When to let go?

MoM called them her babies. With no children left at home and no students to teach, she turned her nurturing to plants, mostly African violets and jade. Many people have trouble growing these because they overwater, but not MoM. The plants flourished under her growing dementia.

I have taken to adopting orphan plants. I am drawn to those on the $1 shelf, whose blooms have dropped and leaves are no longer hot house perfect.

You never know what you'll get. These two plants are a case in point. Both were struggling in the spring. I thought I'd lose the one on the right. After the leaves were almost dead, I noticed the green sprouts showing. When I returned from our trip this summer, the one on the left was gone. I have continued to water it, hoping that it would recover.

When to let go?

The stone foot bridge

I went hiking at the park today without my iPhone earbuds. I wanted to think about words to go with a picture I had taken earlier. It was a glorious morning. I was deep in thought and missed a fork in the path.

Instead of climbing up to the top of the hill and looking down, I stayed down and ended up going over this stone foot bridge, WPA vintage.

Works Progress Administration (later Works Projects Administration) was part of the New Deal response to the Great Depression unemployment. It created 8 million jobs between 1935 and 1943. Almost every community in the U.S. had a new park, bridge or school. (Thanks Wikipedia!)

It has become almost a scavenger hunt for me to find WPA projects in towns we've been through. You can spot them because they often use local rocks and cement for materials.

As I looked back on this bridge, I wonder about the creative process. Whose idea was it? How did they know it would stand? Who dug and sorted the rocks? Who was the first to walk over it?

How many family members relied on the wages of those working on this bridge?

Did they have any idea that it would be crossed by me 80 years later?

Benefits and gas money

I joked that I would work for benefits and gas money. I have for the last two years.

The academic calendar flips to a new year. I am moving out of the system. Today is my last day of coverage.

I get very nervous when I get letters in the mail that state, "Please read the information contained in this notice very carefully", bracketed by five asterisks.

Rationally, I know that I can easily get covered under my husband's plan. It's in place. We are transitioning on a plan for coverage in retirement. I won't have to worry about medical coverage ever again.

So maybe it isn't the insecurity of coverage that gives me pause.

Cue: Teardrop.
It's that I wasn't of sufficient value to the department, to be paid benefits and gas money.
Internal rage wells.
I'm worth more than that.

Yes, it's going to take many mornings of oatmeal, many miles walking, many rows of knitting to let go of the anger.

Progress?

I went for my son's school supplies, BOGO.
I was able to get some end-of-the-season 75% off garden supplies.
Somehow I was able to sneak out without any Russell Stover popping into my bag.

Last first day.

We all are coping with uncertainty.

All three of us want time to stop. And yet we don't. 

I wish I could sleep like that

My son came downstairs yesterday morning laughing because he couldn't put his cell phone into his sleep pants. The pockets were hanging from his hips like deflated balloons.

It had been a warm night and he had stripped down to sleep. During the night, as it cooled down, he pulled back on his sleep pants, inside out.

He went right back to sleep with no memory of wakening.

Labor Day

Labor Day is celebrated to honor the contributions of workers. In 1965, the state of Michigan enacted legislation that enabled public school employees to organize. I don't have a timeline, but I have memories of MoM supporting the local efforts to unionize and collectively bargain. As a child, I didn't realize what courage it would take for my mother to canvas door-to-door for support of a teachers' strike. She found it and did it.

Wait a minute, let me think. Where is it? Found it.

There it is: a silver platter offering the union's best wishes on her retirement.