Road in Retirement

    Disabled. In all my years of life, I never gave much thought to that word. I mean, I knew people who struggled physically but never envisioned it for myself. I saw how people interacted with the disabled, but I had no prescient as to that lifestyle being in my future.     My mind is filled with idea of being disabled because according to Social Security I am officially labeled as disabled. It was with mixed emotions that I received the verdict via a phone notification. The little communication tool brought me a communique that rattled my view of myself. On the one hand, it was good news  that I had been deemed disabled by Social Security. Yet it was bad news I heard that day as well. I had learned early on in this process that sixty-five percent of disability applicants are initially denied. Yet here I was, one of thirty-five percent. Whoopie! Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.      I am thankful having the label and the monetary a...

    Quiet. I heard that word often exclaimed toward me when I was a child. The irony of hearing this word screamed in my direction, always seemed weird to me The old adage "Do as I say, not as I do" certainly rang true to me then. But the silence yearned for back then is a different kind of isolation sought after today.            Today my world revolves around solitude. Only in some ways the quiet around me seems almost forced. And it is kind of. I may be retired, but I'm not saying I longed to be. Had I not had physical challenges, retirement would be as far away from me as a North Dakota horizon. Despite the fact of my forced seclusion, I have to admit this solitary lifestyle is growing on me.     In my former life, I was a doer. If I saw a need, I did. One time a friend and I were in a good PD-class where we were learning about something in which we were interested in learning. She turned to me and expressed her desire...

    I'm sitting by my computer, naggingly annoyed by my "y" key. When it decides to work, I can craft new words like "naggingly" to upset and flummox my readers--all three of them. For the record, I have a degree in English. As I used to tell my students, I paid for the privilege of making up new words. It worked out well for Will Shakespeare ( I'm confident we two wordsmiths would have been great friends and on a first-name basis had we been contemporaries.) And he didn't have a degree in English. Okay, so maybe he introduced over 1700 words (Go ahead, google it. I did.) and countless phrases we still use today into the English language, but he DIDN'T have a PAID-FOR English degree. I'm just saying...(I hope you were duly impressed with my creative prowess in using paid-for as an adjective--if it didn't have the hyphen...).     But I digress. A Lot (still two words, people). The whole digression is because of my use of "naggingly....

    I was in a snarky mood the other day, and I made it known.  No one had said or done anything that precipitated such behavior, but I was grappling with it nonetheless. Later that day, when I had properly come out of my snit, I began to really look at myself, incredulous that I had such a war waging in me.     Then I came upon a poem which described me perfectly.                                      “Two natures beat within my breast                                           The one is foul, the one is blessed                                                The one I love, the one I hate....

    Comfortable. Just like putting on old, worn-in pair of jeans. That's what a good friendship is like. No matter the months or the miles. you pick up your friendship as if you were next door neighbors. This kind of friendship doesn't happen often, but when it does, treasure  it.     Underestimated. That's often what we do to these connections, we underestimate them or undervalue them. Because these people aren't in our purview on a regular basis, maybe we lump them on the wayside and don't give them the value they deserve. So why am I writing about valuing friends? Because I was recently reminded of how blessed I am to have my college roommate in my life. We've been friends since chemistry class sophomore year. I knew of her, and judged her, of not being of my ilk. She was too girly for me. Somehow I found myself in class  with her seated next to me. Later, our teacher had us pair up. All the smart kids made a beeline for the other smart kids, swiftl...

      A former student died the other day. He overdosed. Nothing makes me sadder than hearing negative news like that. My peers would say he got what he deserved. I say no one deserves to be so enslaved to something as harmful as that. I understand he made certain choices, but I don't think it was really him making the choice. It was the thirst for drugs that consumed him much like gambling for others or drinking or any other kind of addiction.  Even like lying or stealing or bullying.     Maybe you don't feel compassion for an addict. I do and I'll tell you why, because there but for the grace of God goes I. I could have so easily gone down that road but thankfully I didn't. I made different choices than my student. But that doesn't make me better than he. I'm grateful for the choices I made. My senior year in high school, my life could've taken that turn. I was one choice away from that path. My last year in high school I moved in a fugue. I was...

    Life is cyclical. Sometimes you're busier than busy and sometimes it feels like you're almost dormant. The last couple of weeks I've lived the former which is why I haven't written for awhile, so forgive the delay and let's get on to today's blog post. Road trips!      Not all road trips are fun.  I've been on many a travels where fun wasn't even part of  the equation. There was the exciting voyage I embarked on as a seventeen-year-old with my mom and grandmother to visit my brother in Florida.   As a senior in high school, I'd rather have gone on my senior trip with my friends. My mom, however, as she was extracting the money from my bank account (money I had earned and saved for said  senior trip), thought her idea of a senior trip ( on a trip with two seniors) sounded much more fun. Maybe that's why I taught Dante's Inferno so much. I lived it on this delightful adventure. Who wouldn't want, as a 17, to give up a trip to New Yor...