"How Dear Muddah, How Dear Fadduh"

Today, I have to sift into my lighten up mode.



It has been a long time since I have committed to taking care of a young child.



I forgot that one has to repeat things more than twice. Re-do things or demonstrate at least three to four times or more. That do on throw clothes on the floor has to be repeated at least a thousand times. Do not jump on the bed has a strange sound to it because it is not heard nor understood by 8 year olds. Young children who are homesick and miss their bed start to look for a substitute nest to sleep in, I would too. There are now four possible places for my young granddaughter to sleep. I would like to say that sleeping with me is not an option because once I woke up with the heel of her little foot in my mouth.



Last night was a brutal night, she started in the sleeping room on the balcony, moved to the sofa in the living room; then, she dragged every blanket and pillow known to man to the chaise in my bedroom; finally, about 1:00 am I convinced her to sleep on the queen size AreoBed in the living room with the light on.



We only slept for a few hours because the alarm goes off at 5:30 am. I am so tried this morning. To top it all off, last night I did not do any of the night things I usually do. As I snoozed from exhaustion like a drunken derelict, I do remember saying to my granddaughter to sleep any where you want. She begged me to fix her lunch for today. I do remember saying, "make your own lunch." I do remember she asked, "Where are the lunch bags?" I answered, "in the pantry." Of course you know the next question, "Where in the pantry?’



"Mema you promised to go for a swim every evening after work." "When are we going?" Mema, "You lied." Through my now drunken like red eyes that much have looked like "cherries swimming in buttermilk." I said, "I tried, but I lied." I was so exhausted I could not even move. I even think I went to sleep with my clothes on. This little person kept asking me questions that I could not honestly answer. I don’t know what she said.



When I relunctantly got up at 5:30 am--still tried to the bone, all I could remember was Allen Sherman’s Camp Letter "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh here I am at Camp Grenada." As it rang through my head, I realized that I have only had this child for two days. I have two more months to go. "How Dear Muddah, How Dear Fadduh am I going to do this?"

AMTRAK & THE GRANNY MULE

This weekend I had the pleasure to serve as the "family’s mule." I was responsible for delivering grandchildren between cities and summer parents. How did I get the position? Well, it seems as though every one works--me too. But, I lost to the toss of a coin, or I conceded to the pleasure. How was I to deliver the two children....by train....AMTRAK. Why? because it is "inexpensive," can you imagine $17.00 per child and $28.00 each way for me. The family won on the cost of the gas to drive from Miami to Lakeland, FL and the time off to transport the children. It would have cost more than $300.00 by SUV, so AMTRAK & Granny won.


On Friday when we left from Hollywood, FL to Lakeland, FL the train was on time, clean, and the staff was exceptionally professional. The young conductor assured every one that he would assign seats, so if any one is in a seat that he needs for a disabled person, for grandparents with children, or for groups with small children, or any one with a special need; he would appreciate it if they would surrender their seat and take another assigned seat without protest. After his announcement, I looked at our tickets to make sure we weren’t sitting in an unassigned seat. I raised my hand to inquire about our seats because he started moving people, and I wanted to be in compliance. I could not find a seat number on the ticket for the life of me. When he finally got to us, he stated that we were fine. I didn’t realize that my grandson, and I were one of the grandparents traveling with a grandchild tags.


On Saturday, when we returned to Hollywood, FL from Lakeland, FL the train was to leave at 12:41 pm, so we were on time because I am a control freak. My son, the chef, left his kitchen to escort his daughter and me to the train station. When we checked in, the station master told us that the train was late. The train was expected at 3 pm. I told my son to leave us that we would wait at the station for the train. Before he left his kitchen, he had put a pork roast in the oven, so he felt he could not wait the entire time with us. He anxiously watched his watch, but I knew he needed to be some where else, so I assured him that we would be fine. The station master said, "I guess you won’t have any thing nice to say about us now, huh?" I told him that all in all every thing was still fine with me.


While we were waiting for the train, we met a nice young man from Perth, Australia. He was so homesick for Perth that I thought he was going to cry. He has been travelling for sometime, and he had run out of money. He can’t find a job in America just to earn enough money to buy food or even needed articles because of his visa. He wants to return home to Perth where every thing is familiar to him. However, he has to make up his mind if the love for the young lady, he is chasing around the world is strong enough for him to tough it out in the USA. We gave him water, sweets, and money to buy dinner since we couldn't invite him home. He got off at a different stop. I just want to say to be nice to the travellers.


The AMTRAK ride to Hollywood, FL was exceptional as well. The staff was very courteous, the train was clean and a cup of coffee costs $1.75, but it depends on the mood of the server. The restrooms got a litte raunchy toward the end of the trip I guess the train ran out of "flush" water.


Thanks to AMTRAK & the Granny Mule all the children are in place, attending camp or school or just plain having fun. I wish every one a great summer.


I just wanted to brag on AMTRAK. The service has improved so much I was thoroughly impressed. Kudos to AMTRAK...


I told them that I would mention them in my AARP journal.

Email from Catalyst News

catalyst52 says:

We are looking for Boomers who are 'retiring' from their corporate jobs but not retiring from life. If you are 'retiring' to enter a volunteer position; Peace Corp; non-profit or other interesting phase of a new life, we want to hear from you. Please note if you are interested/available participating in interview for an upcoming book / radio talk show interview. You can send brief notes about your change to cat20510-news@yahoo.com. All will be acknowledged but not all will be used. Boomers continue to change the world one person, one year at a time. Bravo to Karean and gotta love those Pointer Sisters!


Posted: June 12, 2008 8:39AM EDT

Email to Catalyst News

Dear cat20510-news@yahoo.com,

My name is Karean Williams, I referenced the Pointer sisters' song "I'm So Excited." Recently, I wrote a journal entry on http://www.aarp.org/, and my entry has been on the front page for almost a week, and thus far has received 1800 hits. Needless to say, I am excited that so many people have read my entry. As per you request, I would like to participate in some of the media that you detailed in your comment to my entry. I don't know what aspects of my retirement that would be of interested.

I am just a little older than a Boomer; however, I am a late bloomer, so I started my working experience a little later than most people my age. It seems as though I am one of the first to get advance degrees in my forties because there weren't too many "blue heads" when I was trying to pursue my degrees. Despite that fact, I earned enough money over the ensuing 20 years to develop a retirement income that is better than just poor. I continue to espouse to women and men alike who did not attain a degree in their younger years that an advance education or vocational certification in a field they like really does make a difference in one's life--financially, emotionally, and physically.

I have tried to be an example and mentor to the students who are a little older and seem to be embarrassed to be in classes with younger students; however, many who did not take their schooling serious as youngsters find the classes much more stimulating and interesting. They are usually excited to see how much easier it is to learn and how fast they comprehend the information. Also, I share with them that they came to the class with much more experience, information and knowledge about life than the younger students who are often there because of "you either go to work or go to school, but you can't sit around the house," or they are mandated by a judge--not a happy camper. I would not call them voluntary students.

Back to my retirement, I have been plotting my retirement for about 30 years. I just decided that I need a source of income other than social security to see me through the fall and winter seasons of my life. I have tried many avenues to try to develop a residual source so that the money would always be coming in whether I went out to work or not. It has been an education in itself. Believe me, I have listened to many "hucksters" as they have sold so many ideas, but trying to choose a product or idea that would serve me--and my family--and not the "huckster" and/or "Uncle Sam." I have not won the battle. However, I just keep listening and hoping not to make a wrong decision because I don't have millions to invest only a few hundred.

I no longer have time on my side; therefore, I will have to be a little more cunning with my practices and decisions. I would be able to share some of my experiences and drawbacks because I too am very consciously looking for alternatives to living a good life in retirement.

Thanks for your interest.

Karean Williamshttp://mc589.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=khaiwms@msn.com

Glenn

As you know Glenn has been in a nursing home for quite while. He only receives $35.00 a month from SSI. So, I am sure he has a few needs that need to be taken care of; therefore, every month please send him something $5.00, $10.00, or as much as you can afford.

I will post his address:

Approaching Retirement

I must admit that I am a consummate planner. I have planned and organized every thing my days, my months, my years. Once I learned these tactics as a young military wife and college teacher. For most of my life, I have forged my life around anticipated and unanticipated events... what if’s and when’s. So now as my date of debarkation apporaches I am a little anxious.

I must admit that I have not allowed horror stories to run through my head accompanied with the what if’s. I have relaxed my reading of faraway places to build a new home, or places to move, work, volunteer or baby sit. I have just decided to do absolutely nothing for about three months. Or, let say try. I have already promised friends and family that I would come to visit--until I wore out my welcome be it a day, a couple of weeks, or a month. I would let the wee, small, little voice rule my head and heart for awhile. Now, if I am my typical self, I will go to work, making list and phone calls, and set up dates and times I will be with whom. Stop, Stop. Stop I tell myself. Just allow this to happen too.

My best friend for over twenty five years asked me, "Now, what are you going to do on your first day," I told her I didn’t know I have not thought that far. Would you believe I allowed that to cloud my head for an entire day. Then, I thought I would just relax for the entire morning--in the library--you know the bathroom. Just like a Sunday morning without forethought of an early Monday lecture or meeting or some pressing demand. I would simply cleanse myself of as much "shit" as I can. She replied incredulously, "Don’t you do that every morning." Mind you, my friend, who is 73, has been retired for seven or more years. I told her some times, but I usually have an 8:00am class even though I get up at 5:30am I still have to prepare myself and every thing else for the day and be at the bus stop by 7:00am, it is only a luxury if "rrea" decides to call. She had a good laugh to think every one does not have the same luxury that she has been enjoying for so long.

This is an early Sunday morning, but I have guest, and I know that I will have to do breakfast and entertain some what because they are busy young students with finals to prep for, so I will just have to be quiet for the most part.

Think I will just go for a swim, I need to start to practice my new style of mind set and living.... abate temporary.

The Answer to My Question: When Is It Time to Retire

Once I asked a friend when does one know when it is time to retire. He simply said, "You will know." Over the last few weeks, I have been struggling with the smoke in the air from the wildfires. The haziness in the normally bright clear South Florida sky was playing havoc on my health. Not to mention the firing over nonsense of a long and valued employee, the death of a long and valued employee who was not treated well by the new "sweeps and brooms," one of my dear friends decision to leave before the end of the retirement program, the low morale of many of my colleagues is so infectious. But, more importantly, I had decided that when I had "worn out my welcome" --as my mother would say, when I no longer felt appreciated, when I no longer jumped out the bed to get to work; then, it would be time to retire.

On Tuesday May 27th 2008 the time had arrived, That morning I did not want to jump out of the bed to go to work, but I got up anyways. As I was taking my morning shower, I asked "What am I to do with this heavy heart?" a wee, small, little voice from deep down inside yelled, "QUIT." At first, I was startled by the voice. I looked around to see who was in the bathroom with me because I live aone. I could not believe that the wee, small, little voice would say something so profound as "QUIT," but I felt like a million dollars because of the announcement. I started to sing and my heart felt so light that I thought I would do the Gene Kelly "Singing in the Rain" dance, but my shower isn’t that large, so like the lights in a musical, like the prelude to a song in an operetta I started to breathe; my chest filled up with air as though I had risen from the dead. There was no fear of redemption, no fear of looking for real estate under a bridge, no anxiety of any kind just pure sheer release, joy, and breath.

I called my son to tell him about my decision. He said, "Congratulations!! Mom you finally got there." "Now go do all that "stuff" you want to do and have FUN!" I called my financial advisor, he said, "Good, now you need a date" I said, "Today." He said, "When ever." Then, he told me who to call and what to say. I was really breathing now, and I didn’t even need to take a breathing treatment. What an affirmation that I heard the wee, small, little voice that yelled from so far deep down inside of me. The wee, small, little voice truly knows the essence of my well-being.

I opened my records and there in my planning I had already chosen the date five years ago, August 31, 2008. I was right on time. I made the calls and set up my exit interviews, and now I am waiting to sign the papers. "I AM SO EXCITED" by the Pointer Sisters keeps ringing in my ears.
I can’t begin to tell the world how happy I am. I thought this day would never come. And, to think I made this decision 5 years ago. Like my friend, I am not entirely financially ready, but I want to move on and do some of the things I want to do. We have seen so many of our friends who were not able to enjoy their retirement because of illness or death. I just want a little time to really enjoy my adult children, grandchildren, and my friends. I just want to BREATHE.

"I AM SO EXCITED" the song is going off in my head right now.

Summer Camp

Recently, my memories of Camp Bonsall were jogged, and I just about went crazy. I hated camp; then, I fell in love with camp.

Do you remember the famous camp song "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah, here I am at Camp Granada?" To me, the funniest camp song ever by Allan Sherman.

Well, I could write a book about Camp Bonsall which was located on the Clarion River in Shippenport, PA.

There was a Settlement House in our little village of Woods Run, so we had an opportunity to do some very interesting activities. One of them was sleep away camp. We would go to Camp Bonsall for an entire week. I do remember we had to get the money up because I think one year it was $2.00 per child, and my mother sent three of us. (Mind you, my mother worked as a domestic, so she earned $5.00 a day plus lunch, and bus fare which was 10 cents), so $2.00 per child was a big deal. The family was all a buzz about the money; then, we went. We got new clothes that had to be marked with our names and packed into a duffle bag-- I think a pillow case. We had to wait for the Girls turn because the Boys always went first.

At Camp Bonsall we sang songs for every thing. It was like living in a constant operetta. We sang when we got up in the morning. It usually started with a bugle call of some sort. Then, at breakfast which was served in a huge dining hall with long wooden tables and benches lined up on both sides of the hall--like a prison-- we would eat and sing about every thing. We had to eat by group--I think we were sorted by age. Before breakfast we said the Lord's Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. However, before every meal, we had prayers and a song of thanksgiving. If any one was late for any meal we sang. . .

"You’re always behind just like an old cow's tail, you’re never on time like a ship without a sail. When Gabriel blows his horn on judgement day, you’ll be late; and then, they’ll say you’re always behind... just like an old cow's tail."

Would you believe more than fifty years later and that song still rings through my head. When the grands come to visit, and they're late for a meal; I start to sing my little camp song. Of course, they think I am crazy, but before you know it, they know my little camp song too.

In the mornings, every one had to go to the river for a bath. If you were part of the first group to get into the water, at the end of camp you would get a little fuzzy white polar bear statue. My sisters’ and I are very competitive, so we decided to join the fun. At first, it was too early for me to get up to get a bath in a cold river. I would imagine the fish were feeding, and I didn’t want to be any part of their fodder, and it was too cold. My younger sisters’ continued to cajole me about the early morning bath in the river. So, one day I consented to go to the river with them. Needless to say, the water was murky, dark, and cold. I was encouraged to put my "big toe" in the water, so that I could get a polar bear statue. It seemed imperative that we take home that little white fuzzy bear statue. Every year my mother would line them up on the living room mantel and smile proudly at them. If she only knew, my sisters’ would wink at me and giggle under their breathe.


The truth is that the water in Western Pennsylvania is so cold people, who live in that area, didn’t even use ice boxes--refrigerators-- they used spring houses to keep their food. So can you imagine how cold the water is. Incidentally, we washed with Ivory soap, and Ivory and cold water don’t mix. The soap leaves a whitish film on your skin, and it itches when it dries. Back then, we didn’t use lotion like we do today as though it is food--a necessity.

In the evenings, we would sit around a huge camp fire and sing songs and scare each other near too death. The little kids had to go to bed first; then, we would really let loose of the terror. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to join in the fun. Afterwards, we would walk the dark trail with a lantern back to our cabin which was filled with bunk beds and no windows just open walls and no screens. I don’t remember too many bug objections because I think it was too cold for mosquitoes. But, the flies were as big as a horse I guess that is why they are called "Horse Flies," and they would bite the living mess out of you.

There is one thing that I really remember and that is work. You know we Pennsylvanians have this Benjamin Franklin work ethic bred into us. And so, every morning we had to make and air out our beds, clean the cabins, and clean the soot off the lanterns and fill them with kerosene, and if needed a new wick. The campers in each cabin had to take turns with serving the meals and washing the dishes and putting every thing back in place. We had to prepare the camp for visitors and the fire pit for the evening camp festivities. Each group had to prepare a play or presentation for the last day of camp ceremonies. Also, in groups, we had to keep the trails clean and the stones that lined the trails painted with a lime wash so that no one would get hurt, and we had to keep the out houses -- the one and two holer's-- clean as well. After we finished our chores, we would swim like crazy, go on nature hikes--I knew every plant species in PA, and some would ride horses--not me, and canoe or row the rowboats on the river. So, we worked hard, and we played hard. We had good clean fun, and we loved each other it was a warm experience. Believe me, there was the good, the bad, and the ugly, but all in all it was really good.

When I think back about sleep over camp, the song in my head always starts with "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah, here I am at Camp Granada." We had a great memorable time.