Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Welcome to Corporate America!

It is a bitter-sweet time. Today is the first day in our new building.

Let me back up a step.

In a previous life(wife)time I drove past a little rock-front building every day on the way to work. And every day I wondered what that little building was going to be. Even after the sign was put up in front of the little building, I still didn't know what the business was! Lo and behold, I became one of their employees in January of 1990. The little building became a bigger building, then a bigger building. The business that a wonderful family built from nothing had become a thriving business that a much larger company coveted to the point that they were happy to pay the almost ridiculous asking price!

I didn't stay in the little (big) building continuously for 20 years. I went on my way and tried other things, only to come back twice and be welcomed back with open arms. I am so grateful to the S family for letting me back in!

I knew this time was coming, and I tried to prepare myself. The younger folks who have only been around for a few months or a few years, and those who didn't even know the S family, cannot possibly understand what I am feeling. Last night when I left the big(little) building for the last time, I actually cried. I didn't sob--it isn't as if I have really lost a friend--but I was nearly overcome by my emotions.

The new building is huge, everything is brand spanking new and it's all just wonderful (except that it is twice as far from my house and there is a really ugly green wall to my right). But it isn't my home.

The only reason I am able to compose this post from work is that the phones are not working correctly and we have no databases at all. What we have are printouts and very limited information at that. But it's better than nothing. They will get the phones working eventually, the computer servers will be transferred and put online again, and all will be right with the world. But it still won't be my home.

Not sure I like corporate America.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


This post is not about my mother, but rather my mother-in-law whom I called "Mom" when I was living in Ohio with her son.

I'm not sure I even have the words to describe her, though some that come to mind are: loving, warm, kind, upstanding, truthful, righteous (but not self-righteous), good . . . truly good. There haven't been many people in my life that could be described with two of those words, much less all of them. And I know I'm leaving out a lot of them, just from lack of vocabulary. She prayed daily and often and had the strongest faith I had ever encountered. I'm still not sure how she could have produced The Man to whom I am still regretfully married, in spite of having been separated for nearly four years. (That's my project for August of this year, at which time I will have--hopefully--settled in from moving yet again!)

Mom died in January of this year from what I believe was a brain aneurysm. At that time I could not afford the price of the gasoline to get me to Ohio for her funeral. Just as well, I suppose, since the self-righteous hypocrite who is her son and my legal husband "ordered" me not to come. He did it out of spite because I had finally convinced him I was NEVER coming back to him, no matter what he did, and he might as well stop asking. Mom would not have been very proud of him for that.

My last conversation with this wonderful woman was concerning The Man, her first-born child, who never showed her one ounce of love or respect that I could see. This conversation took place after the death of his son in November of 2007, a time when I WAS able to afford to drive to Ohio for the funeral. Mom gave a beautiful eulogy for her grandson who had died in a motorcycle accident. I still don't know how she stood in front of all those people and read the most heartfelt and sincere account of her "Brian's Song." She was so composed, so loving and sincere. As she finished, I whispered to The Man to go help his mother off the platform where she had been standing. (Not only could he not think of it himself, being the selfish pig he is, but I actually had to repeat it.) He did help her down and even gave her a hug in front of everyone. And this simple gesture is what our last conversation was about. This small act had given her so much pleasure that it was really sad. She asked me if I knew what she could possibly have done to make The Man dislike her, and I told her truthfully that I did not know. He had indicated to me at some point in the last 15 years that there WAS something, but he never told me what it was.

Mom would have celebrated her 80th birthday today. I have been thinking of her since I woke up.