I might just get you?
Feeling Senior
So I’m going to talk about my work situation and a little thing that keeps gnawing on me just to see if anyone else out there can relate a bit. Excuse me why I lay down on the couch, so it’s easier to open up.
Okay doc…I’ve been working for a hospital as an application developer for twenty years now. I started off building web applications/sites and now work on mobile applications. About 6 years ago, we got acquired by another bigger hospital. It was a great opportunity and I got to learn all new technologies. Shortly after that, I got promoted to Senior Application Developer.
This is the part where it got a bit interesting. In one way I did feel like with all my prior 12 years of development that “Senior” was justified, but the other side of this coin is I was a newbie learning a whole new coding language. Since then we’ve hired new folks who have experience with newer technology and live and breath this stuff. It’s all they want to talk about and at times expect me to know it all. I don’t. I’m 52 and when it’s 4 pm I shut off my laptop and have absolutely no desire to building servers at home or this or that around technology. I’d rather be walking my dogs, hiking, reading, ..or drinking some brews listening to The Who on my porch.
So I’m feeling Senior as in OLD. Like I can’t keep up with these little bots. My manager and team never bring this up and I stil get all my work done on time. It’s just something within me. Like I’m not really qualified any more? So let me sit up and ask this one question.
Has anyone out there ever felt this way? How did you work through it??? While I wait for a response I’ll go flip the album on my stereo.
Maybe I’m senior as in Old School Baby!
Thank YOU
Good Morning from the Couch of Daisy!
You ever have one of those mornings where all just feels good? A warm calmness lightly snuggles up to you and kisses your cheek. This I wish for all of you. I’m very grateful! The connections I feel everyday have opened my heart wider and strengthed my belief we are all Love. You are warriors courageously sharing and connecting one soul at a time!
Thank you,
Dwight
Smith Drive
From birth until the age of 10 I grew up in the country, upstate New York (Massena), on a small road called Smith Drive that was just off the highway. Our house was 1 of 4 that sat between Motel Oral Campground and the Seaway Campground. I have fond memories of this time in my life and thought I’d bore you with them. This is your chance now to click close…. I like to think of it as my own 100 acre woods.
Neighbors
Next door lived an older couple Bernice and Tex. They had a tree swing and I remember swinging and talking Tex’s ear off as he rocked in his chair. Next to them lived Mrs. Gladis who was a widow and car caught on fire one night in her garage. Lastly, the Howard’s lived in the last house and he was a bit grumpy, but he sharpened my skates.
Campgrounds
Living between two campgrounds was just the best as a kid. They had pools and let me swim for free plus they had small stores full of pop and candy and arcades. Each summer I’d meet new kids. It would always start off the same. I’d notice kid arriving and I’d hang near there campsite so they’d notice me. The first day they’d be shy and just be with their family, but the next day they’d be so bored that when I came by they’d ask if I wanted to play. Yep yep…and we were off!
Adventures
We had the old relics of the past to explore. Old pinball machines and soft drink vending machines dumped in the woods at the corner of the campground. We’d pretend they were spaceships that crashed and somewhere in the woods, the aliens were living.
The tunnel under the highway was the big dare. Nobody ever wanted to do it, but if someone dared you…you had to go through it to the other side and back. It was so dark and you could barely see a bit of light from the halfway point where a drainage grate was. Afterwards, we reward are bravery with ice cream.
Glumpity Glump was also a riot to visit. It was a ravine that led to the river and it was lined with clay. We’d spend hours sliding down the banks and throwing clay balls at each other. Ouch! I can remember stepping into my house and my mom yelling, “Dwight David take those clothes off right there!”
The Bridge. Behind our neighborhood was the Grass River with a huge bridge. Underneath were crisscross metal beams for support and we’d often challenge each other on who could go out the farthest before returning. I never made it too far, but it sure got my heart a pumping!
The BIGGEST
The Seaway Campground boasted of its biggest pool in the north country and I can’t count the number of times I almost drowned in the deep end. We had the biggest tree we’d climb and could see for miles. There was also the biggest hill where I bit it many times on my skateboard, and of course, we’d build the biggest jumps so we could crash like our hero Evel Knievel!
People
There was Mr. Shulty who owned the Seaway campground. Once a week he’d let me help him pick up all the trash from the campsites and we’d head out in his old truck to the dump. Now that’s some fun adventure for a 10-year-old going to the dump! When we got back he’d always let me pick something from his store.
Andy the bus driver. Andy was a farmer who drove the school bus for all of my siblings and me. Think of grandfather and that would be a good picture of him. Tough old bastard for sure. Sometimes coming home from school he’d stop at the country store and come out with hot balls or bazooka gum for everyone. There was an old bridge near a turn around spot on our bus route. It was condemned and to get us going he put the front tires just on the edge of it and say I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it(go over it) …then back up and turnaround. I can still hear everyone sighing in relief!
Elton. Elton Robbins came up two summers in a row and we were inseparable. He was from North Carolina and his dad worked on the highways in New York during that time. I can remember every morning jumping out of bed, throwing on some shorts, and running through my backyard down to Elton’s camper where I’d sit on the picnic table impatiently waiting for him to wake up so we could take off on new adventures. I also remember cutting our fingers and becoming blood brothers : )
Home
I’d be gone all day with my friends, but for some strange reason, my folks wanted me home for dinner. It was torture. I could hear the hooligans outside. I’d stuff my mouth as fast as I could, be excused, then run over the side of the house and spit it out and catch up with everyone. At night I’d lay in bed exhausted, sweaty, dirty, and thinking of tomorrow’s adventure.
Are you still reading?
Wow. So there are some ramblings of my youth. I just felt compelled to write it down…just to relive again in my head. Good times. No mental frickness…just true living. Can we ever go back to that “state” of awe in our life? Is that too much to expect? Is the now “the real world, suck it up”??? I want to go back and hang with Mr. Shulty, Andy the bus driver, and Elton and why not throw in Pooh and Peter Pan!
Thanks my friends for reading!
Love,
Dwight
Question from Jerry
Jerry is a friend of mine who recently became a widower at the age of 76 after being married for 53 years. We were chatting away on the phone and he says I’ve got a question for you. It went something like this:
Jerry: What size bed do you have?
Me: Queen
Jerry: Where do you sleep on the bed? Middle or side?
Me: Side
Jerry: How often do you change the sheets?
Me: Every 2 weeks
Jerry: Do you think it would be okay if you slept two weeks one one side of the bed, and then two more weeks on the other side before cleaning the sheets?
Me: I guess I never thought about it. (I’m cracking up and so is he)
Jerry: I was just looking over at the other side of the bed and the whole side hasn’t been touched and everything is in order.
Me: I’d probably knock myself out by running into the wall each night heading to the bathroom if I slept on the other side. (I’m still cracking up..)
Jerry: I’m going to ask a few other single people and see what they think.
Me: Sounds like a plan I’d love to hear what they say. I’ll ask around also.
So my little WordPress tribe what are your thoughts? Isn’t it always interesting how others come up with questions you never even thought about?
*** At the end of the phone call after talking about other things he’s discovered he jokes maybe we should write a book on tips of being single 😊. It is sad, but this was just a keep it light conversation as he works through all this…
My Hero
What if I told you I know a soldier who served their country for 30 years? What if I told you during this period a great war was raging and each year this veteran chose to go one more tour? One more tour. This soldier started fresh full of passion and determination. High ideals with great hope that this world would be a better place by keeping up the fight.
Year after year, day after day, this soldier pioneered on growing tired and weary but never giving up. No awards were given. No ceremonies. No badges. No other had taken this path because it was never recommended. It was a death wish. Five years tops they said and then get out. But oh no…not this soldier!
As the years past, this soldier gave more and more. Sweat, tears, love, money, and their health. Everything they had. Lied to, stolen from, yelled at, misunderstood,… but kept on giving. The body was no longer fit and trim. The mental health was fucked but they kept on giving. Along the way, love was lost and divorce came.
At the end of the war a small dinner was provided with beautiful words said, but this soldiers brother wanted more! The brother wanted the world to acknowledge this great hero!
What if I told you this soldier wasn’t a soldier in the sense of the military, but a soldier of life. A soldier as in a Special Needs(Ed) Teacher For 30 Years! This soldier is my sister Victoria Hyde. As I type, tears of love are flying. I so love my soldier and am so proud of her!
We often don’t see or hear about the everyday heroes in our life. We only see what’s right in front of us, judge, and never know of the journey along the way. The kids she’s helped, the Christmas presents given, supplies boughten, clothes boughten, love given…never to be heard of again. Many of these kids homes are broken…just a mess with very little help in improving. I can pretty much predict the school she taught at will not fill her shoes and for that I am sad. But who else would take on this feat?
If this was a military soldier and they came home, we’d have awards, speeches, standing ovations, and even a parade. We’d see how their service changed them physically and mentally and provide services to help them get better. We’d treat them with love and understand where they are now and how they got there. Articles would be plastered across the media and interviews would be requested. Instead, my hero went off quietly into the sunset to be near her sons. To rest. To regroup. I fear it may be too late.
This is my sister Vicky. I flew out a couple weeks ago to New York to help drive her 26 hours to Colorado. She is my hero and I wanted others to know. Who are the heroes in your life? We need to do a better job acknowledging the unseen heroes and give back to them!
