Secrets and Such

Carrie and I shared a ride to school this morning. I drove. She is only11 yrs old so it made sense that I would do the driving.

I wasn't able to attend her math class this morning so I headed home.

I've had the strangest day today. On my return trip from school, I noticed a young woman with a small child in tow. The school is located away from town but with subdivisions close by. I found a driveway and turned around, rolled down my window as I pulled along side of  her and asked if she was going to the school. She was and I offered her a ride. This young woman was walking her second grader to school because her car wouldn't start. It was a couple of miles to that school from where I picked her up.  I waited for her as she ran into the school to sign her son in late. She continuously thanked me on the ride back to her house for helping her.  I offered to use my jumper cables to start her car but she declined the offer saying her mother was on her  way to loan her a car.

My good deed done for the day, I got back to my house. The wind was gusting at 30mph and leaves were blown all over the yard, carport and patio. I visited with my neighbor for a short while then returned back to my house to settle in and wait for the storm that was forecast to hit around noon.

Soon the sound of a chainsaw could be heard and it sounded too close not to investigate. Stepping out onto the patio, I could see the branches of a tall bush in the neighboring yard across the fence as it  came sailing earthward. I watched silently as the man raised the pole saw and began sawing off another limb of the tall bush. He noticed me watching and paused to say "hello". We exchanged greetings and I stepped back into the house only to be summoned a little later by the same gentlemen.

He had driven around the block and onto my driveway and was now approaching my house with a hand extended for a handshake. John was his name he said, smiling
to show a crooked row of teeth, beautiful brown eyes, crinkled corners from years of working outdoors. His shirt was a colorful combination of reds and soft greens woven into a plaid design, a pair of loose denim jeans and light brown work boots.
His full time job was working for a well know realty company  rehabbing houses and cleaning up properties for resale. Today he was working side jobs to make extra money.

The tree he was cutting was more then one man could handle and part of it was draped over the fence that portioned off my back yard from the owner of the aforementioned bushes. John wanted to know if he could access my back yard to check on the branches he had been sawing on saying he would return tomorrow with some help.
I followed him into the back yard after unlocking the gate for him. Soon we were back in the driveway in front of the house, chatting about our families, his children and mine.

The economy of this town eventually entered the conversation. This polite man said he was waiting on the new president to improve the work situation in this town that has been grossly impacted by the oil recession. He smiled his wide smile and said Trump was going to change things and make it better.
I gazed in wonder at this kind gentlemen. I tried not to show the bewilderment I felt at his statement. You see, I was having this conversation with a black man who had voted for Trump. This was not a religious zealot, nor was he a racist, a bigot nor a misogamist, Alt-right wingnut. This was a diligent hard working gentle soul and he was a Trump supporter. He voted because he was promised change. It didn't occur to him that Trump's campaign was based on outright lie after lie and that the hate he stirred was filtering down into riots and increasing racial tensions. The racists finally had someone to support their beliefs and out from beneath their rocks, out of the shadows they came, proud and unafraid of any judgements now.
I had to reassess my views on the Trumpets. I realized that the promise of a better future, and of jobs to allow access to those jobs was the only thing this man was hearing from Trump's whole campaign.

He did mention that he liked Hillary but he still voted for Trump.

I've been so ashamed of the USA after this election. As I watch who Trump appoints to his cabinet, my fear for the future increases. I only hope John doesn't suffer from his decision to vote for Trump, because you see, John is a black man and living in the deep south.

I bid John goodbye with a handshake and a promise to let him have access to my back yard tomorrow so he can finish his tree cutting. I'm concerned for this man's future, along with mine and my grandchildren and you and yours.

Peace out. It's been a very eye opening day. I won't be posting this on Facebook. I'll just leave it right here for those to find, either by accident or because they follow this blog.
I'm done.

WOC (Waiting on Carrie)

I peeked in on her. The tall four poster bed encircles the place where she sleeps. I can see dim light filtering in from the mini blinds at the head of the bed. A lump of blankets outline her body. She stirs and turns to her side, her breath soft and shallow. She is deep in sleep and I hesitate to wake her.

Today is the day we do the baking.  We have invited Chloe to come and help with the pecan pies and the bread pudding. Chloe can't get here until after the midday hour so an early morning visit to the public library is on our menu of things to do today.

It's time for me to get on some clothes and wake her up. We have much planned for this day; the day before Thanksgiving, 2016!

November 22, 2016

Was it 1964? Yes, the year I was a freshmen in high school. We were all gathered in the gym in school to watch a circus act. I'm not really sure that is what was going on but I do remember it was my friend's birthday. To this day, I always remember to wish her a "Happy Birthday". She passed away about a month ago but I still noted on Facebook my birthday recognition of her day. This day stuck in my mind, not because of her birth date, but because this was the day when John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas, Texas.

The principal walked into the gym and in a very low voice, delivered the news. I can still remember watching the older kids begin to weep. A very somber group was filing out of the gym and to the buses waiting to take us home. The next days were spent watching the new president get sworn in and the funeral for the one before him.  I remember John John and his salute to his father as the cassion carrying the president went by. Jackie, stoic, stood with one hand in Caroline's and one in John Junior's.
Again another November 22 and the two memories. Cathy's birthday and the anniversary of JFK's assignation. I pause for both memories.

This day we headed for the casino.  While the husband sat at the blackjack tables, I sat at the bar and sipped on a hot chocolate. The poker slot machine is buried into the counter top. Three other people sat at the bar busily sipping their beers while feeding the slot machines with quarters. I am not one to part with my money in the slots. My visit to the casinos are purely to accompany the husband who likes to play "twenty-0ne". I people watch and talk to the bartender who watches the flat screen TV mounted on the wall above the rows of bottles of liquor.
No sound emits from that TV. Close captioned lines of speech march across the bottom of the screen. Usually the TV is set to a sports station. Tonight I wasn't much interested in TV or conversation so I sat with my cell phone and surfed the web.
Two hours passed quickly, which is our usual time spent at this casino. My phone beeped a message alert from the husband.  "Are you hungry?"

The pit boss had compted our meal. We agreed to meet at Locos, the Mexican café in the casino. I wandered over to take my place in the line that was quickly forming. Soon I was seated and munching on chips and salsa while waiting on the husband. I looked around the room at the other patrons. Though the place looked busy, it was a slow night, one of many lately for this casino. The unemployment rate here is the highest in the nation. Layoffs have steadily increased for the past three years. Those that still have a job have taken a huge pay cut; sometimes even 50 percent of their pay has been cleaved.

We wait and we watch for any signs that will signal the oil industry is in a recovery mode. This election, the candidate promised the coal fields will once again become productive and the oil fields will recover from this slump. Politicians and their empty promises! We all know the coal fields are not returning. The environment is in serious need of attention and the pollution caused by coal has caused those fields to be abandoned as a source of energy.

Oil is a flooded market driving the cost of a barrel into the low forties. Supply and demand has set the price of oil so low that producing it here in the USA is at a loss for the major oil companies. Tankers are sitting offshore full of oil waiting to be delivered to refineries.  This slump is much deeper then the one in the late eighties. 

I watch as "For Rent" signs decorate the road ways and the subdivisions. People are trying to rent their homes to avoid foreclosure. Savings have evaporated and people are moving out of town. The husband predicts that in the following school year end, a drastic increase of people leaving will again leave more homes empty.

We wait and we watch and are thankful that we managed to save some money; our house and vehicles are paid in full. The car I just purchased was a low mileage second hand vehicle. I refused to buy a new car. That money can be used to live on for another two years. Caution is my middle name. I've been down this road before. We, the husband and I, have watched the volatility of this industry and know how to play safe.

Happy Birthday Cathy and a sad nod to JFK. You both are missed this day.

Tuesday and Again with The Math

I'm up early and in the kitchen. 0500 hrs. and I'm fixing lunch for Carrie. Shrimp Alfredo, some crackers and some Fruit Loops along with an Apple juice drink is crammed into her small lunch satchel. It will soon be time to collect her and we will share a ride to Ernest Gallet, the elementary school she attends.

Some hours later: I'm sitting in my usual chair at Mrs. Steven's desk. I have my red pen and my pencil and my scratch paper and I'm ready for my math lesson. I'm surrounded by 5th graders, who I fear know much more about this subject then I know.

The lesson begins and again my attention doesn't waiver. I am making a supreme effort to be attentive to this class then I was some 50 yrs. ago when I sat in a  5th grade math class.  Oh, but to only revisit that time and been more concerned with what those educators  were trying to  present to me. I'm embarrassed at my lack of motivation those many years ago.

Devisor, dividend and quotient. That's the language of math and the language we speak in class.  We are learning to divide using two numbers as our devisor. Sound simple? I thought so too. My way of finding the devisor was haphazard and a "guesstimate". I've learned to "round" the devisor and do multiples of the rounded devisor to find the quotient! I'm excited and impressed. My instructor says this is the way she learned to find the quotient. I don't remember how I was taught and evidently if taught this way, I didn't "get it". I can't estimate the age of this math instructor, mainly because I'm just not good at guessing anyone's age. I know she is a grandmother and her daughter looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties AND she taught Teddy (the grandson) years ago when he was in the 5th grade. Teddy is now 23 yrs. old so that should give me some clue as to her age. My main point about wondering about her age is the method used with her by her teachers. Maybe my teachers taught the same way as hers but I just didn't pay attention.

I'm learning math again and possibly for the first time! I'm enjoying myself immensely and who would have thought that I would ever say that about math??

Soon Carrie will be home and it will be time to do math homework. I'm ready. I hope she is.

5th Grade Monday

Monday morning and the new material starts. I'll be in class again this week. I'm taking a math class and it happens to be filled with 5th graders. This is nothing like the math I had in the fifth grade. I don't think we hit this level of math until my senior year of school.

My attention is riveted on the teacher. Mrs. Stephens is a medium height, atheletic looking woman. She wears a pair of jeans, a t shirt and a pair of sneakers. Her thick brown hair is streaked lightly with strands of grey and falls to shoulder length. The hair is of the untamed variety. It's thickness and coarseness causes it to splay out around her head. The hairline is low leaving a small forehead. A pair of  bright floral reading glasses is used to hold her hair off her face. During the lesson she reaches up and pulls those glasses down to the bridge of her nose while her hair becomes unbound from those glasses and springs outward and down to her face. Soon she will move the glasses back to the top of her head creating a "headband" effect for her hair.
She bounds around the room, engaging  her students in the lesson she is delivering. Sometimes she speeds back to the white board on the wall and covers it with numbers. Her lessons move along quickly. She interjects stories and examples that co exist with what she teaches. Sometimes I can keep up with her and sometimes I just figure I'll figure it out when I get home.

Carrie sits a few rows away from me. I check occasionally to see if she is "getting it". Sometimes she gives me a thumbs up and at other times she waves her hand as if to say "somewhat". I know that when we get home we will compare our knowledge and together we will do her homework. She will listen as I go over the lesson of the day; she will do some problems and I will check her work.

I am bound and determined that she will become a good math scholar. It's a lot of work and frustrating at times.
This afternoon she came home and had something to eat and attempted her home work. After a few minutes she was complaining of a headache and being lightheaded so I excused her to her bedroom for a brief nap. I'll wake her in an hour or so and we will finish her homework.

My goal for Carrie is organization. Her skills in that department are lacking. I do notice improvement in the weeks I have been working with her. She now deposits her ID badge into a pocket of her book bag as soon as she gets home. Her clothes are laid out each night; she knows where everything is  which makes it easier to find when she gets to school.

I'll be at the school again tomorrow in the event the teacher has new material to present. A test on Thursday and a quiz on Friday is scheduled. We will be busy this week.
I'm off to do some homework. My own understanding of math is improving. I'm enjoying math albeit my nerves still get 'on edge' when faced with new problems I don't understand.

November and Many New Things

It's the holiday season. Baubles and beads have appeared in the stores and everyone is gearing up to let loose a hail of pierces into those credit cards. It's the season of giving and guilt  followed by the season of regret, anger and amazement at the giving that they will be paying for in the remaining year. I have never played that game. My Christmas list is short and surrounds my immediate family. Years ago I released my siblings from gift giving. Coming from a large family that now lives scattered around the USA, the postage cost more then the gift that was given.

Now for a clinical update on that surgery on the left foot. The repair of the Achilles has been a long slow progress. I do not remember it being like this on the right foot when that Achilles was repaired. Maybe I have selective memory but I do not remember all the swelling; all the pain when walking and then the burning nerve pain. It is now about three months post op and finally the pains have noticeably decreased. There is still an occasional rif of pain, hot and intense but short in duration. In the past week I have been able to walk with it feeling as though a hot nail was imbedded in my foot. The pain in the foot centered around the incision site for the first month or two. Following that decrease in pain, the top part of my foot toward my toes became very painful. The following week the pain had moved to the mid part of my foot and the next week it was centered around my ankle topside of my foot. It's November the 11th and this surgery was performed around August 3rd. It seems as though my life has been disrupted for longer then this 3 month period.

Now on to the Trip. Carrie and I ran away this past weekend. We ran to New Orleans. It was an experience of many for Carrie. She has been to the city a few times before but she was a small child. This trip she was 11 yrs. old and able to note many of the strange things that are always going on in New Orleans.  Our first afternoon was spent parking the car and walking over 5 blocks back to the Butterfly and Insectitorium.. By the time we got back to that event, there was less then 45 minutes to view the exhibit. We decided to try the next day. We were on Canal Street and the trolleys were zipping by. Carrie's first trip on the trolley was about to begin. We found a bench in the center of Canal and waited. Soon a trolley arrived. We bought an all day pass for 6.00 (3.00 per person) and climbed aboard. Carrie wanted to sit on a bench alongside the wall and that's where we sat. She watched as different characters boarded. Many of the riders were people that had worked  in the many restaurants in the Quarters. Dressed in black pants and shirts, a name tag identified their place of employment. Tired from their shift, they sat with head bowed, eyes closed awaiting their stop to embark on their evening at home. Tomorrow they would board the trolley for another day of business.

An elderly man in soiled shirt and pants, face wrinkled and worn,  with lips that covered toothless gums, he held on to a crumpled paper bag. As the trolley moved down the tracks, he stood and walked to the door area. He was not planning on getting off but only to reach into that paper bag and bring out a half eaten hamburger. Eating on the trolley is not allowed. He stood in the stair well out of sight of the trolley conductor and munched on his sandwich.

A young couple sat across from us holding hands. A middle aged couple held a quiet conversation, pointing at various sights along the way.

Carrie watched out the window as we moved down Canal Street. She watched as the elderly man munched his sandwich and as the restaurant workers left the trolley at their stops. She learned she could pull on the cable above our heads that signaled the trolley conductor a wish to stop and alight.

We got off midway and grabbed a spot on another bench to wait for another trolley  heading back down Canal.

We headed back to the car, legs tired from all the walking and looking forward to a comfortable stay in a hotel. No reservations were made in advance so we headed to Metairie to look for a room. The Landmark Hotel provided a room for the night. We sat in the hotel café too tired to venture out and look for a place to eat. A wedding reception was being held in the Mardi Gras room. Couples came in dressed in formal attire, beaded dresses and glittering shoes, the ladies walked by with their gentlemen dressed in tuxedos. Both man and woman wore masks that sported long black feathers and beads; the men without the feathers but masks that were encrusted with colored beads and baubles.

We watched as they paraded into the hotel and past our table. People watching is what New Orleans offers in abundance.

The city and it's climate make a liveable  arrangement for the homeless. As we walked the city the next day, people wrapped up cocoon like in their blankets dotted the city. One young man had a box sitting beside resting place for donations, three books rested at his head, one open to his last reading spot.

A man with a violin stood at one corner playing for pay. Carrie begged a dollar to put in his box. We stood for a few minutes to listen and then moved on.

Walking down Decatur, a wedding party was marching down the street. A band marched and played as the bride high stepped it along with her huge bridal party. Always something to see in New Orleans if you hang around long enough.

Our second day, we went to the Aquarium of the Americas. Eels, alligators and lots and lots of fish, penquins and frogs, sharks in tanks with scuba divers and mermaids made for an interesting afternoon. I had to take a few breaks to sit and rest my legs. I had aching leg muscles for the next three days.

Lunch was at the Riverwalk mall. I let Carrie select the type of food to eat; I chose the location. We sat inside and watched as the cruise ships loaded their passengers. More walking to get back to the car and we had had enough of New Orleans. Another 3 hrs on the road and we were back home in Lafayette. Carrie is very easy to travel with. She just goes with the flow but now she was tired and ready to get to bed. School again tomorrow. We enjoyed out little weekend getaway.

November and Many New Things

It's the holiday season. Baubles and beads have appeared in the stores and everyone is gearing up to let loose a hail of pierces into those credit cards. It's the season of giving and guilt  followed by the season of regret, anger and amazement at the giving that they will be paying for in the remaining year. I have never played that game. My Christmas list is short and surrounds my immediate family. Years ago I released my siblings from gift giving. Coming from a large family that now lives scattered around the USA, the postage cost more then the gift that was given.

Now for a clinical update on that surgery on the left foot. The repair of the Achilles has been a long slow progress. I do not remember it being like this on the right foot when that Achilles was repaired. Maybe I have selective memory but I do not remember all the swelling; all the pain when walking and then the burning nerve pain. It is now about three months post op and finally the pains have noticeably decreased. There is still an occasional rif of pain, hot and intense but short in duration. In the past week I have been able to walk with it feeling as though a hot nail was imbedded in my foot. The pain in the foot centered around the incision site for the first month or two. Following that decrease in pain, the top part of my foot toward my toes became very painful. The following week the pain had moved to the mid part of my foot and the next week it was centered around my ankle topside of my foot. It's November the 11th and this surgery was performed around August 3rd. It seems as though my life has been disrupted for longer then this 3 month period.

Now on to the Trip. Carrie and I ran away this past weekend. We ran to New Orleans. It was an experience of many for Carrie. She has been to the city a few times before but she was a small child. This trip she was 11 yrs. old and able to note many of the strange things that are always going on in New Orleans.  Our first afternoon was spent parking the car and walking over 5 blocks back to the Butterfly and Insectitorium.. By the time we got back to that event, there was less then 45 minutes to view the exhibit. We decided to try the next day. We were on Canal Street and the trolleys were zipping by. Carrie's first trip on the trolley was about to begin. We found a bench in the center of Canal and waited. Soon a trolley arrived. We bought an all day pass for 6.00 (3.00 per person) and climbed aboard. Carrie wanted to sit on a bench alongside the wall and that's where we sat. She watched as different characters boarded. Many of the riders were people that had worked  in the many restaurants in the Quarters. Dressed in black pants and shirts, a name tag identified their place of employment. Tired from their shift, they sat with head bowed, eyes closed awaiting their stop to embark on their evening at home. Tomorrow they would board the trolley for another day of business.

An elderly man in soiled shirt and pants, face wrinkled and worn,  with lips that covered toothless gums, he held on to a crumpled paper bag. As the trolley moved down the tracks, he stood and walked to the door area. He was not planning on getting off but only to reach into that paper bag and bring out a half eaten hamburger. Eating on the trolley is not allowed. He stood in the stair well out of sight of the trolley conductor and munched on his sandwich.

A young couple sat across from us holding hands. A middle aged couple held a quiet conversation, pointing at various sights along the way.

Carrie watched out the window as we moved down Canal Street. She watched as the elderly man munched his sandwich and as the restaurant workers left the trolley at their stops. She learned she could pull on the cable above our heads that signaled the trolley conductor a wish to stop and alight.

We got off midway and grabbed a spot on another bench to wait for another trolley  heading back down Canal.

We headed back to the car, legs tired from all the walking and looking forward to a comfortable stay in a hotel. No reservations were made in advance so we headed to Metairie to look for a room. The Landmark Hotel provided a room for the night. We sat in the hotel café too tired to venture out and look for a place to eat. A wedding reception was being held in the Mardi Gras room. Couples came in dressed in formal attire, beaded dresses and glittering shoes, the ladies walked by with their gentlemen dressed in tuxedos. Both man and woman wore masks that sported long black feathers and beads; the men without the feathers but masks that were encrusted with colored beads and baubles.

We watched as they paraded into the hotel and past our table. People watching is what New Orleans offers in abundance.

The city and it's climate make a liveable  arrangement for the homeless. As we walked the city the next day, people wrapped up cocoon like in their blankets dotted the city. One young man had a box sitting beside resting place for donations, three books rested at his head, one open to his last reading spot.

A man with a violin stood at one corner playing for pay. Carrie begged a dollar to put in his box. We stood for a few minutes to listen and then moved on.

Walking down Decatur, a wedding party was marching down the street. A band marched and played as the bride high stepped it along with her huge bridal party. Always something to see in New Orleans if you hang around long enough.

Our second day, we went to the Aquarium of the Americas. Eels, alligators and lots and lots of fish, penquins and frogs, sharks in tanks with scuba divers and mermaids made for an interesting afternoon. I had to take a few breaks to sit and rest my legs. I had aching leg muscles for the next three days.

Lunch was at the Riverwalk mall. I let Carrie select the type of food to eat; I chose the location. We sat inside and watched as the cruise ships loaded their passengers. More walking to get back to the car and we had had enough of New Orleans. Another 3 hrs on the road and we were back home in Lafayette. Carrie is very easy to travel with. She just goes with the flow but now she was tired and ready to get to bed. School again tomorrow. We enjoyed out little weekend getaway.