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I’ve been moved, again

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Ive been moved
Photo by Abbreviations.com

As the former spouse of an IBM employee for 21 years, my family experienced six corporate moves. The joke among us was that IBM didn’t stand for International Business Machines, but instead it stood for I’ve Been Moved. I recently moved again. This time I chose to move to be closer to my grandchildren, reduce expenses and to leave a toxic neighborhood.

I have three grandbabies, ages almost 9, 7 and 5. They are growing up so fast. Before Covid-19, they were active in soccer, basketball, dance, piano, volleyball, and t-ball. I drove 30 minutes one way to watch them perform for about 45 minutes and loved every minute of it. Now, I’m just five minutes away when sports start again. Being close to family helps me out too if I need help. No need to consider travel time when planning our outings.

By moving from one county to another and buying a smaller home, my property taxes have decreased. Next year, instead of paying $2,422 in Larimer County, I’ll be paying $1,770 in Weld County, saving me $652. However, I believe Weld County is behind in updating property values so taxes will surely rise in the future. In addition, I moved to a property without an Homeowners Association (HOA) so I will save $544 a year in dues. While these amounts are not large, every little bit helps when health care and other expenses keep rising while my salary as a substitute teacher stays the same.

Some of you may remember I lived in an older (age of homes and residents) and a somewhat toxic neighborhood with a self-managed HOA. I referred to it as a Harassing, Overbearing Authority. The neighbors, with a few exceptions, were busy bodies. They made comments either to my face, through email, or by leaving a note on my door about everything. From what plants are you planting to how often do I walk my dog. One woman even asked me how I was able to afford my home on my own. They were always in my business and the HOA, in my opinion, was mismanaged.

This past January I had had enough when HOA dues were raised again to cover management errors. I tolerated this unpleasant situation for over seven years. I even joined the board as president for 2-1/2 years to try to make a difference.

Even though I spent a lot of time and money on my house to make it a home, I put it on the market and moved in September. After living in Loveland, CO for 24 years, I now live in peace and enjoy the community where I worked as a teacher for 14 years.

So yes, I’ve been moved many times but this time I chose to move. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was overwhelming and very stressful at times, probably why most retirees stay in their homes. I am happy and relieved to have left a toxic situation and begin a new chapter with my family nearby.

If you’ve made a similar move recently, please share your experience in the comment section below.

First day of school during a pandemic

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first day of school
My grandsons first day of preschool, Photo by nro

School children around the world have first day of school pictures taken at home by parents who may or may not be sending their children back to school this fall. Some are staying home and attending school remotely while others are attending school in person on an abbreviated schedule as part of a cohort. I began my first day of school during the pandemic last week as a substitute teacher at a charter school.

Many retirees work part time as school crossing guards, bus drivers or substitute teachers. I have worked as a sub since retiring from full time teaching in 2015 to pay my taxes. This past March, we received an email that schools were closing and students would participate in remote learning instead. No notice. We were furloughed. My last day was March 4th. My future assigned jobs were cancelled. I was told I could file for unemployment benefits but chose not to since I was receiving a small pension. Others needed the assistance more than I did. I hoped I could get by if I cut my spending, which I did since everything was closed.

September 8th was my first day returning to work since the pandemic closed schools. I looked forward to the return because I missed being in the classroom with young people and, truth be told, I needed the money. Fear of getting sick didn’t enter my mind. When I taught full time and even when I subbed in the past, my daily routine included cleaning my classroom. Flu and other germs were present then and my health and that of my students was always a concern. This day was no different.

first day of school
Disinfectant table; Photo by slc

So, what is different about working in a school since the pandemic and new CDC guidelines? Greeted by tape on the hallway floors to separate students I also noticed the drinking fountains were taped off so they could not be used. Students could only use the restrooms one at a time during class time. High school students had to wait three minutes for the middle school students to pass through the halls before they left the classroom. Masks were required, of course, but so was the container of disinfectant and wipes outside each classroom. Students took a wipe before entering the classroom to clean their desk top and chair.

Each student was assigned to a Covid group including a virtual group. On my first day, group one included ten students; one student was absent. We also had a “mask free” time where we left the school building and walked around the parking lot while still social distancing. It was kind of like a recess. Back in the classroom, students had to social distance while at their desks.

Other than my glasses fogging up due to wearing glasses with a mask, nothing has really changed about working in a school with one exception. As a substitute I typically walk around the room and observe what students are reading or writing, but on September 8th I sat at the teacher’s desk in order to keep good social distancing.

I survived my first day of school during a pandemic and went back for day two on September 11th. Were you furloughed? Have you returned to work? Please share your story in the comment section below. Stay safe!

Badge of Military Merit

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The Badge of Military Merit is “one of the most recognized and respected medals awarded to members of the U.S. armed forces” according to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. The Purple Heart, as it is also known, is the nation’s oldest military award. It was introduced by General George Washington in 1782.

Badge of Military Merit, Photo by armyhistory.org

When I was out walking my dog Goldi the other day in downtown Loveland, we happened by an older model pickup with a camper attached. In the driver’s seat sat was an older gentleman. He was alone and parked with his window down as if he was waiting for me. As we approached the front of the vehicle I noticed the license plate. It bore the insignia of a veteran awarded a Purple Heart. I just had to stop and say hello and thank this man for his service.

Lawrence is a veteran of the Korean War and the recipient of the Badge of Military Merit, the Purple Heart. His brother was killed in that war along with almost 40,000 other Americans. More than 100,000 were wounded.

Lawrence has lived in Loveland since 1959, the year I was born and just a few years after the Korean War ended.

While I don’t know why Lawrence was sitting in his pickup that day, I believe I was supposed to meet him and thank him for his service. We owe a lot to the men and women who put on a soldier’s uniform and fight for this country. Thank you Lawrence. It was honor meeting you and I hope our paths cross again.

Listening to God and Heidi

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Normally, when I venture 25 miles west to my cabin in the woods I do so with a plan of work in mind. Insulating, watering, cleaning, moving, cutting. But today God had a different plan for me and I actually found myself listening to God and Heidi.

First, I took the wind chimes off the hook from behind my shed door and I hung them on the shepherd’s crook as I always do upon my arrival in the Glen. I read somewhere that they help keep bears away. I like that idea but I also love the delicate sound they make. Next, I went about emptying out my vehicle and staging the tools and water where I would need them.

Listening to God
Reading & Writing in Nature, Photo by slc

Instead of starting in on the work I had planned, I planted the irises I brought from my yard in town. These are very special irises. They are from my garden club friends Betty and Marie. Betty, the rosarian, shared them with Marie and Marie lovingly shared them with me. These beautiful ladies are now in Heaven attending to God’s garden. And now some of their spirit, through their irises, endures at my cabin in Glen Haven.

It rained here last night or early this morning so I don’t have to water plants today. Instead, I sat down at my picnic table to begin a book author Heidi Herman and her publisher sent me to review. The book On With the Butter! Spread More Living onto Everyday Life is small but mighty so far. After just one chapter, I had to write.

A loud call of a crow warns me that my dog little Goldi is chasing a small black squirrel she wanted to meet. A hummingbird wizzes by as the tall pines add background music with the sound of the wind. Yellow wildflowers abound under my feet and around the picnic table where I relax and write.

Time to stop for a minute to pick a few flowers to add a bouquet to my table.

I am so glad I am listening to God, and Heidi, today to stop and enjoy the day at my Memory Lane Mountain Retreat. How about you? Are you listening to God these days?

Surviving the pandemic with patience, prayer and painting

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We’ve all seen the news and posts on Facebook. You know, the grim predictions of hundreds of thousands of deaths, stay at home orders and mask wearing, not to mention the ones that point fingers at our state and national leaders. These newscasts and posts are full of fear, worry and sometimes even hate. How are we to survive this pandemic? I found patience, prayer and painting helped.

I feel I have not really been living life during this pandemic. Having patience is not ordinarily one of my virtues. I’ve just been getting by. We have given up so much. For me, I gave up:

  • Visits with my family and friends and hugs from my grandkids
  • Attending church on Sunday mornings because the churches closed
  • My part time job as a substitute teacher because teachers were working remotely
  • Participating in book club or going out to eat with friends because we were told not to gather
  • Participating in Bible study with friends, again, because the church was closed
  • Shopping at my favorite stores because they too were closed

I felt as though I retired all over again and had to create a new life.

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My first CASA anniversary

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CASA
Front of My CASA T-Shirt, Photo by slc

A year ago May, I was sworn in as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA). In June of 2019, I received my first abuse and neglect case so this is my first CASA anniversary. That case is still active and may be for several more months. This extraordinary experience has given me the first chance to have an impact on the lives of young people, besides my grandchildren, since retiring from full time teaching in 2015.

CASA
Postcard from CASA Case Supervisor

The CASA program has always been on my volunteer work radar. Any news report of abuse and neglect of young people over the years has always shaken me up. One in particular was the case of Douglas and Leah Dyer that occurred in 2013.

Their daughter, 7-years-old and weighing just 37 pounds, couldn’t walk or talk when she was found “living” at home. One headline read, “‘Basically torture‘: Child abuse case causes outrage.” I still drive by that home a couple of times a month and that case still haunts me. That little girl touched my heart and soul. In 2016, a childrenshealthcare.org newsletter reported she was “walking, attending special education classes, and starting to speak in sentences through an electronic communication device.” But “she will require a lifetime of specialized care.” Her parents were found guilty of child abuse and sentenced to 15 years in 2017.

This week while researching the Dyer case, I discovered that the original caseworker in the case was also the original caseworker on my case. She is a dedicated professional who represented these cases with grace and genuine care for the young people affected by the abuse. The staff in the CASA office, which trained me, supports and guides me along the way. They are committed to being a voice for these young people. I have never worked with a more professional and caring group of individuals.

Strolling with a CASA child, Photo by slc

So what do I do as a CASA? The Larimer County brochure says, “We are a voice in court for abused and neglected children and a safe place in the community for conflict-free interactions.” But in reality I play, sing, skip, read books, run, listen, smile a lot, stroll, write reports to caseworkers, attorneys and the judge, talk with foster parents, research, find resources, attend meetings and court, advocate, advocate, and advocate. It takes dedication but I look forward to seeing my CASA kids every week and report how they are progressing. It is very rewarding “work.”

If you want to know how you can become a CASA volunteer, a Friend of CASA, or support CASA monetarily, check out the National CASA website. In Larimer County go to casalarimer.com.

85 days of hope

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On June 4th I had my first video chat with my 86-year-old Mom.  She spoke with me while seated in her Broda chair with the assistant director of nursing by her side holding the video device.  Even though she was tired, we talked for about 30 minutes.  This chat may seem ordinary to you, but to me it was nearly a miracle.  Mom and I had not spoken since March 11th, not for 85 days.  It was 85 days of hope.

hope

As the middle child of seven kids, I was used to fighting to be heard.  This time, I fought long and hard to have this precious 30 minutes with Mom.  I started this fight to talk with my Mom on April 11th when I made three phone calls to speak with her at the nursing home where she resides. Each time I was told she was either sleeping or someone else was using the mobile phone.  I was told to call back later. 

On April 25th I tried calling again.  This time I was told that speaking to residents via the mobile phone was no longer allowed due to the potential spread of the COVID-19 virus within the facility.  The staff member comforted me though with the promise of a video chat that following week.  Patiently, I waited for the call but with each passing day I became more anxious without any word.  Through news reports, I heard there were 15 positive test results among residents and staff and two deaths at Mom’s small long term care facility of only about 34 residents.   I prayed and I had hope I would get to talk with Mom soon.

On May 5th I had a large bouquet of flowers delivered to my Mom for Mother’s Day along with a card.  I wanted Mom to know that I had not forgotten her.  The day after Mother’s Day I emailed the center’s staff asking if they would please send a photo of Mom with the flowers I sent.  I wanted to be sure she received them.  Two days later, I received an email reply saying they needed written permission from Mom’s power of attorney (POA) for me to have a photograph.  I asked if they could get that permission for me since I lived 825 miles away.  She did not respond to my request.  By now, there were 22 residents and staff with positive test results and three deaths at Mom’s facility.  Mom’s tests had come back negative, which was a relief. I kept praying.

On May 15th one of my sisters briefly visited the center and called to have a window visit with Mom.  She was wheeled into position but she seemed upset and she made no eye contact with my sister.  Mom’s appearance was disheveled and she appeared to have lost weight.  Now, I was upset and even more anxious. Now was not the time to lose hope.

That same day, May 15th, I emailed Mom’s POA asking for their written permission to communicate with Mom via video and to have a photo of Mom with her flowers.  I did not receive a reply.

I knew from prior research that Mom and other residents had access and visitation rights through the Nursing Home Reform Act of 1987. She didn’t need a POA’s written permission to speak with her children but no one asked her so the fight began along with more prayers.

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