Road in Retirement

     We live in a negative world, surrounded by negative talk. I noticed this the other night. A group of our friends came over for a fish fry. We enjoyed the meal and when it was over, we began to dissect what is wrong with the world today. From furries in the schools to the laxness found in the homes today, we covered it.      Normal conversation, right?  I thought so for a  day and a half. And then I had my thinking challenged. Is the negativity readily heard in conversations today the way it's supposed to be? Why do we focus so much on issues that tend to drag us and our thoughts southward?    I came to this realization this morning. I guess I had an "Ah-ha!" moment. Thinking back over the words I had shared with my friends, I saw myself as a Debbie Downer. Every conversation I participated  in, managed to have a negative slant.     I was horrified. Why was I so negative? But then I saw it wasn't just me. The vast majority of people talk downer-talk. If the topic

    This week means the beginning of school for some districts, so education is on my mind. One formative aspect from my days as a student had to do with math, and how it actually helped me to become a better English teacher. Math is not my thing. In high school we were tortured after lunch, going downstairs to a room with no windows and a teacher with  no voice. I missed a whole year of math, trying not to succumb to the heaviness of my eyelids which were being lulled into la-la land by Mr. V's intonation.     In my younger years, I played a lot of games, many of which were math-based. I became good at adding numbers quickly in my head, thanks to games like cribbage. Although math is not my forte, I retain this holdover from my youth. I, basically, have all the math skills I need.     I never understood why harder, more difficult to understand math classes were foisted on me. I haven't used the basic principles of these classes in forever, if ever. Now don't misundersta

      T omorrow school starts. For teachers anyway. Students start back on Wednesday. How do I feel about that? No regrets, for sure. Maybe I'll  miss the classroom, but not so far. When I think about what teachers put up with, being retired isn't a bad thing.     I have heard of and witnessed more teachers leaving the profession than ever before in my nineteen years of teaching in my city. My district hired over 100 new teachers for this school year, a record in my experience. Administrators had to go outside the boundaries of the U.S. to fill vacancies. And they still have openings.  When I see all the negative press teachers are getting, it was a good time to retire.     The most vocal group of detractors are parents. They aren't happy with what we teach or how we teach it. More and more at my school we dreamed up ways to teach basic skills to kids. In the past, parents taught these skills. How to use the library, shop for insurance, and even what to look for in buyi

    It doesn't take a lot to show appreciation. Two words. That's it. But those two words can change lives. The two words aren't "almost there" or "nice try" or atta boy/girl."  They hardly take any time to say, yet they seem to take a huge effort. The two words?  Thank you.      In college a local family took pity on a waif and befriended her. That waif was I. They had me over for plenty of dinners and at the conclusion of the family meal, which was delicious by the way, the patriarch would look at his wife and say, "Pretty good meal, Annie. Keep practicing." Not used to such teasing nuances, this comment initially confused me. I hadn't eaten that well in ages. I was grateful for the invite and the meal. I always expressed my gratitude. It dawned on me one day, that his way of expressing gratitude was teasing her. That was my first encounter with thanking someone without really thanking someone.     Seriously, I see these missing wor

    I must  confess something to my blogdom. I suffer from a disease identified as independent-itis. There is a cure for this malady but often people don't want to pay the price. The cure  is simple, inexpensive, and available to all who seek it. It's simply humbling yourself and admitting you need help. Parkinson's helped cure me of my independent-itis.     Pre-PD I had an awful case of this disease. I was Eileen Zygarlicke, and I could do it on my own, thank you very much. I was raised to be a strong, independent person, and that is who I became. If I had a problem, I would figure it out on my own. I must admit, indepentent-itis served me well. It helped me project exactly the facade I wanted to convey. Often, with this disease, it's not uncommon for the sick to suffer  from other ancillary defects as well. I suffered from intimdati on-itis, causing those I came in contact with to be totally intimidated by me. It took a while for the effects of this illness to pas

    I hate being alone. There was s time in Chris's career when he traveled once a month. Inevitably, some catastrophe would occur that I would be forced to handle. With him gone, I feel incomplete. We don't need to engage in chatter or deep, dark discussions. Just knowing he's close is enough. As I write this, he's in the office working on the message for his niece''s wedding. Next week he will be the officiant at that union, and has been putting his heart  into the message. That's okay with me. As long as he's around some place nearby, I'm fine. Chris completes me.      I only have to deal with his absence occasionally. A friend of mine is having a party to celebrate the return of her husband from over a year long deployment. Sean, my friend's husband, is active duty  National Guard and spent the last fourteen months or so deployed  to our nation's capital. My friend was also a co-worker, so I would see firsthand the sacrifices she made to

      I started fishing a few years ago. Who knew I would like it so much? We go a few times a summer, hiring a guide service  to make things easier. My kind of fishing is with a guide service. The guide baits my hook, nets the fish, takes the fish off the hook, and then cleans and bags the fish. I first hired this guide outfit as a Father's Day gift for my husband and father-in-law years ago. Even though its more difficult for Chris's dad to go with us, we still go out, sometimes with our son, his girlfriend, college friends; you get it, basically anyone who would like to try fishing on a world-class walleye lake.      The guides, especially the one we had most recently, are very attentive to someone with PD. Balance is already an issue for m e, but throw in a rocking boat and things can deteriorate fast. On our most recent trip, I made it onto the dock. and eventually into the boat with help, no problem . After we were all situated, Mark, the guide, set the engines in motion