I hear your words

On Sunday, with only two staff on the second floor, I was feeling a bit of the grump in anticipation of a busy and run raggedy day, when an older woman approached me with the opening line, "I'm not at all computer literate could you help me with genealogy".
It's a loaded question because it can mean a 30 second interaction or an ongoing process that can take months.
I said sure, and subsequently learned that she actually did know what she was doing and just needed a time frame from a database. She then told me that she had started doing research again after thirteen years, because her son, whom had been killed in the line of duty as a police detective, would have wanted her to. She also said that he would have laughed at her trying to figure out the computer stuff and as far as she was concerned failing at every turn.
On the anniversary of his death, which was July 1st, she talked her grandson into going with her to the library and starting up the process again, so that he could share his family history as his dad had.
I am leaving out tons of details here, including her telling me that she had never shared this the way she was and that she didn't understand why it was all coming out today. I assured her that I had a blog and would be happy to exploit this experience, no wait, I let her know that I understood that she felt like she could tell me for whatever reason and that was fine, then, there were tears, and as she was leaving she put her hand on top of mine and told me her name and I gave her mine and she said, that I helped her more than I could ever know.

What you better do

Doing a good turn, to what end? Because it is required of course, to enable us to live with ourselves and basically to get along with others. For me there is never a question, it's just to act and consequences be damned. True that for my husband and sons, I've seen it in action, it's not speculation on my part. They will all jump, in rarely hesitating.
And then I think, is it just nosy or controlling? Always ready, and again watching, and I guess waiting. As I look around work or most places, people are involved in their own stuff, far too deeply to notice the subtleties of general distress or confusion. Then there are those of us who are not, who skim the drama rather than get immersed and seem to often be listening to the stories about how, and what, and all that happened, really just waiting to react.

Pass it by

As I've become a sub machine, I've been spending many a day in the children's' department, where I can stare without being noticed, as much as when I'm working with the adults.
I've always been a watcher, and probably a not very discreet one, especially now that I'm either beyond caring or not as adept at anything.
I've been reminded when I work there, about how we sometimes act our parenting, speak aloud our proclamations about expectations, behavior and actions.
There are plenty of parents or caretakers who come in with children and proceed to ignore them and go on the Internet or talk to each other, so I shouldn't only focus on the one's that I think are annoying as they repeat their child's very retro names endlessly and narrate how and what should be done with the toys or with the other kids. But, they must remind me of myself from back then, which is to really say, that I miss having little kids and, working on my chops.

I just looked around

I've mentioned the Umbrella Man in another post here at ITM, but never has he come so alive as last night at the Heritage Days parade in lovely downtown Olmsted Falls.

We kind of spontaneously decided to go this year, neither of us had been inclined,and as a storm was approaching, we had just resigned ourselves to staying home, but for some reason, all of a sudden, we just kind of got motivated, and jumped in the car.

I had figured as we were late, that we probably missed the marching band in which Jack plays the trumpet. Apparently because of the weather, things had been a little delayed so we were in luck. I found a place to park, grabbed the over sized umbrella and we made our way to the festivities.

Jack was just about to go by, I said to Eamon "Here, hold my umbrella while I take a picture."

As soon as I handed it to him, the world slowed, I saw the light bulb above his head, and I saw that Jack saw what his dad was about to do. it was all almost as cinematic as the real thing. He opened the umbrella, just slightly, then pointed the end towards the marchers and then closed it.

Jack's face, (albeit he was playing the trumpet), was as red as a tomato and he was trying desperately not to laugh.

Later, while we were watching the Conspirator, a text from him read; "There should never have been an open umbrella that day!"

Oh the joy (?) of living with a family that routinely discusses assassinations, 9/11 truth movement and David Lynch.

I can do

I find it worth mentioning that after watching Source Code last night, which left me feeling somewhat disturbed and restless in the night, that I started thinking about the two movies that Duncan Jones has made, Moon and the above mentioned, and how they both portray a man alone either on a planet or in a capsule.
Similar themes by filmmakers are certainly not unusual, but of the instance of your dad writing Space Oddity which is all about a man lost alone in space, and your movies sharing not a similar, but a theme essentially the same, I feel compelled to make note. Yes, I've made it official.
There is a sense of loneliness and alienation that has been maintained through these two generations of artistic output.
I wonder of it's an attempt to feel connected to his father or more of a universal quest regarding what makes us feel lonely or isolated and how that is a challenge to all individuals.
Nevertheless, I felt it worth mentioning.

Sinking to the bottom of my everything

On Friday, an elder version of Snoop Dogg came into the library with two enormous containers full of materials that had been stolen. He told us that a relative had been hiding the items at his apartment and once he realized that they had probably not been checked out, in that 50 items is the limit and there were at least a thousand, he figured it would be best to bring them back.
Of course, this happened a few minutes before the library was to close for the day.
Things got sorted out, authorities were called, forms filled out. We are used to stuff being taken to sell , but having someone hoard materials to this degree is a new one.
There was no rhyme or reason to the stuff that was returned, there was old and new, romance, westerns, and just piles of bad pop music. I can only imagine what it's like to have need of that much stuff to give comfort. Can't I?

Conquering myself until

I've gotten so used to short, or frequently interrupted conversations at work, that now I can't seem to hold one for any length of time without getting squirrely, even when I'm actually talking to someone I know, about a topic of interest.
Recently, I was talking to someone who fits in that in between place; I know him at work, as in he comes in to the library pretty regularly, and we are friendly. We had previously had a conversation about a topic that had re-occurred while I was talking to someone else.
When I saw him yesterday, I began to reiterate the story, which was fine, but then I went on a tangent about adapting to anything pretty quickly, which led to talking about living in Japan and dealing with cultural differences, especially at my job, and that's where, I think at least, I lost him.
I pride myself, (and that in itself is a rare utterance from me,) in being clear, communicating well and being mindful of the context and recipient of whatever I'm running on about. Apparently, that's both somewhat unfounded, and a little vague.

Every remedy for ignorance and sorrow

The perfect storm of shit hit my fan yesterday. It didn't cause a flood of emotion or a torrent of tears, but I did have to leave my house in order not to say anything more to alienate my family or neighbors, who happened over for the first time ever on the day I really needed to be left alone.
It's been building, the frustration with CSU, my job's level of ridiculous, certain adult children not pulling their weight, another litany of inadequacies everyone around me seems to be sporting.
I know it's mostly me and my own disappointment regarding the spectrum that runs from success to basic organizational skills. I am trying to veer away from the regret card and work towards just being here now , and doing my best with that. But why, why do I always have to power through everything? I'm bitter, sad and very angry. That's not all that I am, but for now that's the better part.