Things About My Carol: Part 8: "She Had Always Hoped To Raise Weird Kids"

The things Carol was most looking forward to were growing our own crops, making our own hemp clothing, living in a commune-like environment, becoming uber-fundamentalist, and having kids with such impaired social skills that people would think that we were raising a couple of dullards.

So, we obviously chose to homeschool.

Jessica could do 19th-century primary school work while wearing the prairie dress she had made in seamstress class. Michael could study animal husbandry while taking care of our two pigs, Copernicus and Amelia (he named her after Amelia Earhart with the confident hope that, one day, pigs could fly.)

OK, so nearly none of the above is true. But you wouldn't necessarily know that based on people's assumptions about homeschool families 30 years ago when we embarked on, what would turn out to be, a 9-year odyssey. It was as late as 1992 before homeschooling was even legal in all 50 states. Imagine that. In America. Up until the mid-1800s, most children were taught or tutored at home. We began in 1995... Jessica's 4th grade year and Michael's 1st grade year.

Our migration to homeschooling was almost entirely for pedagogical reasons. Our school system was making a radical curriculum change in the next school year to include, among other changes, a "whole language," top-down method to teach reading (as opposed to the familiar bottom-up, phonics foundation method) with little real assurance that it was a successful method to teach language arts. We felt it was sorta important for our kids to be able to capably read, comprehend, spell, write, etc. and weren't looking to experiment. The more we learned about it, the more we were not interested in this new, "innovative" method focused on immersive, individual discovery, language as a social activity, and diverse literary events that used some of the techniques found in English-as-a-second-language (ESL) and English-as-a-foreign-language (EFL) classrooms. To us, it also smacked of a teaching philosophy that was somewhat ideology driven rather than results driven. At least, that's how we saw it.

The more questions we asked during the multiple town hall curriculum meetings, the more our questions were evaded and the more we were gaslighted and lied to.

By the way, the reading wars persist and whole language has fallen out of favor in many systems while the education experts continue to wrestle with the shameful problem of why so many kids continue to read below grade-level. Terms like "the science of reading," and "three-cueing" (which is now banned by law in as many as 19 states,) and "balanced approach to reading" are tossed around by teachers, university education professors, education standards authors, and curriculum providers. We were in the camp that believed that learning to read does not come naturally, particularly with the English language. Reading requires a structured and protracted process. 

So, the Toomeys decided we needed to make a change. Our options were to move to a different county, private school, or, as we later discovered, homeschool. After much research and consternation (and no small amount of prayer,) we chose to teach our kids ourselves. [Current Georgia Homeschool Requirements]

Carol didn't want to homeschool two kids at the kitchen table though. She wanted a dedicated schoolroom space. As I peered into our backyard at the building formerly known as my workshop, I realized that I had some remodeling work in front of me. Carol said if we were going to do this we needed to do it in a way she thought was both appropriate and in a way in which she could feel confident. (I'm not suggesting kids cannot be taught at the kitchen table but, that wasn't for us.) 

my remodeling supervisors

I gutted our 10' x 20' backyard building and installed new flooring, additional windows, new door, wiring, insulation, sheetrock, trim, paint, and acoustical tile ceiling with recessed lighting. We bought a window air conditioner, heaters, three desks and chairs, corkboards, real slate chalkboard (later covered with white markerboard,) copier, file cabinet, mini-fridge, bookshelves, educational posters and other media, computer, TV monitors/VHS players, headphones, etc., etc., etc.. When it was finished it sorta looked like a mini-version of a real classroom... but a homemade version.

40 days into the 95-96 school year (Michael's 1st grade)

We had chosen and invested (no small inve$tment) in a video-based curriculum that allowed both kids to individually watch and listen to actual classroom instruction following along with their textbooks. We utilized the provided quizzes and tests, teacher keys, and all the collateral material needed for instruction. In our early years, the lessons were on VHS tape but later changed over to DVD (big improvement...higher quality and easier searching.) Both kids had a bible class which sometimes they wanted us all to watch after I got home from work because the classes were excellent and were so well taught. 

You know what they say about '80s and '90's Christian parents... (see video) 

In the earlier years, Carol handled 99% of the instruction but, as Jessica got into more advanced math and science subjects, I stepped in to help as needed. After 7th grade, Michael asked to attend public school as he was not, after 7 years, as enthusiastic about homeschool and also wanted to play team sports. We had told both kids that they had a say in whether we continued homeschooling them. We had a one-year-commitment-at-a-time attitude. Jessica chose to continue all the way through to graduation.

Jessica 9th grade, Michael 6th

In high school, Jessica eventually got to analytic geometry (aka coordinate or Cartesian geometry.) She initially hit a wall as did I because I had never taken analytic geometry. I studied Euclidean plane geometry in 9th grade but this was different... sorta like a combination of algebra and geometry. I contacted a high school math and physics teacher friend (Masters in Mathematics) but he too had no real experience with it. While searching for a tutor, Jessica told me, "I'm going to back up to the beginning of the course and see if I can figure this out" (an advantage of home school.) To her credit, she did, in fact, figure it out as proven by her performance on the subsequent quizzes and tests.

Carol was in her element in that classroom and loved going through elementary school, middle school and high school all over again (maybe more so than her first time through.) Watching your own kids learn academically every day is not something most moms get to do. Carol was determined that we were going to provide our kids with a quality, well-rounded education to include out-of-classroom learning. (We even required them to learn to diagram sentences because, we figured if their parents had to endure it in school, they should too.) They frequented our public libraries and took weekly PE classes that were held at the local Y. Organized sports were through church and the Y, piano lessons for Jessica, and guitar lessons for Michael helped round out their education. Both were active in youth choir at church. Jessica was joint enrolled her senior year taking classes at Augusta University. That said, we knew that what we were doing was considered by some to be weirdly unorthodox. We heard some passive aggressive criticism in the beginning.

checking out new materials at the '99 Curriculum Expo

Homeschool provided significant flexibility for our family. Ten days of educational field trips were necessary each year since our curriculum intentionally included only 170 days of course work. We were also not constrained with taking family vacations when everyone else did. We were in control of our calendar. We could vacation to places like Disney and other major attractions during times when it wasn't super crowded with other school-age kids. Like Jessica's geometry experience, we also had the ability to speed up or slow down the course work as each might need. We could specifically tailor the learning to what was needed. And school lunches were home-cooked.

(One blog is woefully inadequate to even minimally summarize what 9 years of homeschooling was like. But this will have to suffice.)

Regarding the "lack of socialization" that is often a weak criticism of homeschooled kids, anyone that knows Jessica or Michael can likely testify that they did just fine in that regard given all the sports, arts, and church activities in which they were involved along with having so many friends. And most kids' healthy socialization comes from the loving, caring adults around them anyway.

You know what one of the toughest parts of homeschooling was for Carol?

It was the initial breaking of the news to her parents that we were pulling our kids out of public school. We did not know how they would react. You may remember from a previous blog that they were both career school teachers... mostly in public schools.

So, the day we went over to their house in the summer of 1995 to nervously tell them that we were going to go off the traditional rails and teach the kids ourselves, you know what they said?

"Thank God."

That was all Carol needed to hear and she marched on and never  wavered or looked back.

She had work to do... she needed to go produce some weirdos.

Jessica graduated homeschool with honors

P.S.  Jessica was accepted to all 3 colleges to which she applied (Berry College, Mercer University, and Georgia College & State University...the one she ultimately chose)

Michael, who graduated from Westside HS, followed in his sister's footsteps and also attended GCSU, the only school to which he applied.

(Colleges like homeschooled students)

Carol did a great job. No surprise there. (And both our kids are excellent readers... and are refreshingly weird.)

Our sad little school house- 21 years after graduation and 17 years after we moved... in disrepair from neglect and fallen tree damage

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Things About My Carol: Part 7: "She Is A Middle Child"

I think it was in the early 90s when Dr. Kevin Leman did a special event at our church one night to talk about "The Birth Order Book,"  which he authored in 1982. Leman is a Christian psychologist who embraced the idea of birth order having an effect on the personality, character, and development of children. This "birth order theory" originated back in the 1920s when it was proposed by Alfred Adler, an Austrian psychotherapist.

Alfred Adler

It is not suggested that there are genetic or physiological underpinnings to the birth order attributes; it is more driven by the way parents treat and perceive their children based on birth order. In many cases these personality attributes come about based on how the children see themselves in the family dynamic even if their perceptions might not be entirely accurate (after all, they are children.) But, first-born children are often parented differently than "middles," and the youngest (see video below.) Gender can certainly play into this as well... such as, the second child may be the first daughter. It was a fun night because he presented the material with plenty of humor and spouses were poking each other with each new revelation he presented that struck a chord.

Leman suggests that there are some well-defined differences between first-born and middle children (and only-children and youngest children.) He describes first-born kids as: "the guinea pigs of the family. Mom and Dad practiced on them. They're held to a higher standard than the rest of us. They're reliable, conscientious, list-makers. They don't like surprises. They are natural leaders." He goes on to say, "Of the first 23 astronauts to blast off into space, 21 were first-born children. The other two were only-children." Coincidence? I think not. You first-born children reading this are not at all surprised by that statistic.

According to Leman, last-born children are "the babies of the family... they're manipulative, social, outgoing, never met a stranger, good with people- least likely to become an astronaut someday. Also least likely ending up being the President of the United States." (About 52% of US Presidents were/ are "middles.")

Only-children are like first-born kids but on steroids. Take all the attributes of first-born and add "very" in front of it. Leman says, "Only-children are often sensitive and get their feelings easily hurt. They're little adults by age seven."

So, my Carol is a middle child. You may be familiar with a term, "middle child syndrome." It even has a Wikipedia page (then again, what doesn't?) Firstly, no two families are alike. But it can be true that in families of 3 or more children, the experience of first born, last born (the baby) and all the ones bookended by them can be different. First borns are the ones where new parents experience most of the exciting "firsts..." first steps, first toilet training, first talking and walking, first tooth, first lost tooth, first first day of school, first t-ball/ballet/soccer/piano recital (you get it.) By the time middle child/children do their versions of it, it has lost a bit of the luster... and all the while the oldest is still  doing "new firsts" that still get most of the attention. And the last borns (sometimes the "oops" children) are the newest attention grabbing babies of the family (and some can get spoiled.) Middles can get lost in the fray and can feel a bit out of place and overlooked... not so for the oldest or the baby. Most middles seem to handle it well and can thrive despite (or even because of) feeling "unequal." Some can struggle with it though even into adulthood. Parents don't usually mean to treat the birth order differently. But the reality is that they do. 

So, what do we think we know about middle children? 

Here are some of the supposed attributes of a middle child:

• easygoing... they know how to compromise and are good negotiators and mediators
• adaptable and flexible
• can be secretive
• peacemakers- they want everyone to get along. They can serve as the go-between.
• more independent- maybe felt overlooked as children, often leaving home the soonest, self-reliant, may have a hard time asking for help
• competitive- feeling like a #2 sometimes can cause middle kids to be very competitive
• exceptionally strong friendships (sometimes as a fill-in for inattentive family)
• people pleasing tendencies
• loyal- faithful in their relationships which are often long-lasting. Skillful at forging connection
• seek fairness in situations
• tend to not be perfectionists
• hardworking and self-motivated
• successful
• well-adjusted
• resilient- typically can handle tough things that come along

While there are always exceptions when it comes to these types of descriptors, I think these describe Carol pretty closely (she's the middle of three girls.)

(L-R) Carol, Susan, Debbie

In fact, I think that Carol could even be described as a "prototypical middle child." Now, these kinds of attribute or personality comparisons aren't intended to imply that any birth order type is "better than" another. It just acknowledges that there can be observable differences.

I'm reluctant to add many more glowing things to what I've already written about middle children because it feels like it could be a bit self-promoting.

You see, Carol married a middle child... yep, I'm one too. (Btw, middle and middle is believed to be one of the less successful marriage combinations.)

Well, we must have figured out how to make it work.

After all... we're hard-working and resilient.

* Kevin Leman italicized quotes are taken from birthorderguy.com

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Things About My Carol: Part 6: "She's Also Had Cinephilia For Years"

It was mild at the beginning. I learned of it as early as our very first date when I took her to see Rocky III. Over the years, especially after our daughter was born, it got progressively more pronounced.

I remember she had gone to our pediatrician's office for a check up for Jessica. When she came home she told me what the pediatrician had said to her. She was still a bit in shock when she told me. Her revelation started out with a simple question, "do you know what Dr. Allen told me?" I immediately thought she was going to tell me about the results of Jessica's check-up or that something was wrong.... "no, what did he say... what's wrong?" I anxiously asked.

Then she told me. "Dr. David told me that he and Kathy go to two movies on their date nights!"

"Wait, what?" I said. "Yes, he said that they figured it made sense, since they were already paying for a babysitter, that they should make best use of that time... so they go to two movies on the same night!"

"That's crazy!" I said. She agreed but she also said that it makes perfect sense. Both of them love movies and try to maximize the cinema experience when they go out.

Btw, the word cinephilia comes from "cinema" and "philia"- one of the 4 ancient Greek words for love.

I remember the first Friday night (our regular date night) we decided to try it. There were movies that began around 6:45- 7pm and the next showings were usually 9:00pm or just after.

The immediate dilemma was do we go ahead and buy both sets of tickets or do we watch movie #1, leave the theater, buy tickets for movie #2, and re-enter the theater?

We chose poorly. We bought both sets of tickets. Being rookies at this, we discovered that, after watching movie #1, we were too tired to stay and watch movie #2. No refunds allowed. We gave the tickets to another couple.

We quickly learned that, although we were open to seeing two movies, it wasn't always practical. Sometimes there weren't two movies we wanted to see. Sometimes we were satisfied with our cinema experience after one movie or just wanted to do something else after the movie. And then there is that truism, "a mind can only absorb what the butt can endure." That said, I think we ended up going to two movies over 50% of the time when we went to the movies on date nights. (This gives you some idea of the volume of movies that Hollywood was putting out in the 80s and 90s.)

When we told our friends what we were doing you know what the most frequent question was?

"So, after the first movie do you just sneak into the second movie without paying?"

It was then we realized that either we needed to find less sketchy friends...  or maybe our friends thought we were the sketchy ones. Hmmm.

Carol loved going to the movies and just watching movies in general (romcoms are her favorite.) Call her a cinephile, movie junkie, film buff, or whatever. Movie watching has been one of her most favorite forms of entertainment for the 42 years I've known her.

Back in the VHS days we regularly rented videos from all the outlets in Augusta that rented them... grocery stores, Blockbuster, Phar-Mor (remember that discount drug store chain?) Sadly, Phar-Mor turned out to be the sketchy ones. The CEO and CFO were defrauding investors, hiding and falsifying financial information, and both were convicted and sentenced to prison. We also purchased many VHS movies when the pricing became less prohibitive (VHS tapes were expensive in the early days.) After a few years, the higher quality DVD era began. All the VHS tapes we bought eventually were just given away in yard sales. Nobody owned VHS players anymore.

Slowly but surely, Carol began acquiring DVD movies. And I had joined this new upstart named Netflix for movie rentals.

DVD mailers

They allowed you to check out DVD movies and they were delivered to you in the mail. The number of movies you could have checked out at one time was based on the membership level you had joined.

Today, we must have between 500-600 movies on DVD. I actually tried to sell off our entire collection at a yard sale about 7 years ago but, I got no takers even at the very discounted box-load price. The DVD (and Blu-Ray) era was over, I guess.

this ain't even the half of it

When COVID hit, I was thankful that we had all those movies because, you know, not every movie is available on the streaming services. And, for many years after Carol's dementia diagnosis, movie watching was still her favorite thing to do. She'd watch a couple most every day. Sadly, the interest and her ability to remain focused has waned over the last 18 months or so as it has become harder and harder for her to even follow along with the movie's dialog. I'm not sure how much of it she can even understand anymore.

The other day I put in the DVD of "Pride and Prejudice" (the Keira Knightley version) to watch with her. It was always one of her favorite movies since its release 20 years ago but, the longer it played, the more it seemed to just agitate her. So I hit stop and ejected it. I used to earn pretty significant brownie points if together we watched the chemistry unfold between Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. (I never told her that I actually do like that movie.)

The cinephilia was great while it lasted.

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Phar-Mor logo by RilennEdits - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=138121506

Things About My Carol: Part 5: "She Was a Teacher at Heart"

I could be wrong on this. But, my guess is that ever since Carol was a little girl, she had a desire to be a teacher one day. Both of her parents were career teachers. Her older sister had gotten her degree and became a special education teacher. Since I've known her, I could see that she had a true love for teaching. She did attend Augusta College (now Augusta University) after HS graduation but, as you may have read from a prior post (link), she ended up becoming a Master Barber instead of finishing her degree.

About 4-5 years after we joined First Baptist Augusta, Carol began teaching in the children's Sunday School department. A couple years later, I began teaching 7th grade boys' Sunday School, worked with our mid-week high school group's Bible study, and was a counselor for our summer Youth Camp.

After a few years, I (and several others,) began encouraging Carol to consider teaching in the youth area. Our daughter was soon to become a 6th grader, moving from children's SS to youth SS. So, Carol began co-teaching the 7th grade girls' class. I was thrilled when this happened because it allowed us to collaborate on lesson preparation every week and to talk about common issues teaching and mentoring that age group. I became the middle school boys' Bible study teacher at our summer Youth Camp and Carol did the same with the middle school girls.

I was a youth camp counselor for 17 years. There was only one camp in 2000 where I had to bow out with short notice due to a back injury. I had already prepared all the lessons for the MS boys' Bible study so, I asked another counselor to teach those lessons while I stayed home nursing my back pain. I was also supposed to be the counselor staying in the cabin with the 12th grade guys (I had eventually moved up to teaching 12th grade SS.)

After the first day of camp, our minister to students called me to ask if there was any way possible I could come to camp. I thought his request was strange because the guy that was handling my Bible study was fully capable. He said that wasn't the issue. Apparently the "adult" that was staying in the 12th grade boys' cabin was not up to the task and that the boys were "out of control" and disrupting the entire camp. He was hoping I could come and help that situation. (For the record, the guys did redeem themselves.)

Camp Bob Cooper typical cabin

Camp Cooper's blob

So, I packed a bag, popped some extra pain pills, and made the 2.5 hour drive.

The next day, when it was time for Bible study, I decided that, since my friend was handling my Bible study, I would sit in on Carol's. I had actually never heard her teach before. So, I sat in the back and listened as she taught those middle school girls. I'll be honest. I was blown away. I always thought I was a pretty effective teacher. Then I experienced Carol's teaching. For an hour, I listened in awe as she brought the scripture passages to life. I watched while she mesmerized those girls with interesting historical perspectives and then seamlessly pivoted to give them applications for their young lives today... all the while exuding love; moving them from laughter to tears as she shared her personal experiences and her love for Jesus. 

I was dumbfounded. Carol taught like a maestro bringing out the most beautiful notes from the musical score. But this was more than just good teaching, it was something extra special. Something you can't really put your finger on.

I attended all her remaining lessons that week.

Carol and some of "her girls"

Carol genuinely loved those 12-year old girls that came through her Sunday School class over the 12 or so years she taught. And those girls knew it. There must have been over 200 of them. The oldest ones are now almost 40 years old. She remained close to so many of them throughout their teen and college years and beyond. I'm pretty confident those girls have warm memories of Mrs. Toomey.

After we became empty nesters, Carol went to work at Grovetown Middle School in the media center where she was able, once again, to spend time helping middle school students. She had to resign one year shy of retirement due to her dementia related challenges affecting her ability to do her job..

I should also mention that in 1995 we decided to homeschool our kids and Carol taught Jessica from 4th grade through HS graduation and taught Michael from 1st grade through 7th.

That might be a blog for another day.

But boy, could she teach. She became a teacher after all. And a really good one.

P.S. Jessica earned her Early Childhood Education degree and became a teacher.

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Things About My Carol: Part 4: "She Said: Prove It!"

I spent most of my childhood years in New England. Being a military brat, we did move around a lot (11 schools from K-12) including to North and South Carolina... and then back to New Hampshire before ending up in Georgia. New England will always feel a bit like home. Every self-respecting New England kid learns at least 2 things: how to ice skate and how to snow ski. My first time skiing (other than on nearby Barrett's Hill) was in 1968 at the now defunct and abandoned Fitzwilliam Ski Area in Fitzwilliam, NH, about 20 min from where we lived. Massive vertical drop of 240 ft. You nearly had to push with your poles to go downhill. First time down though I crashed through the snow fence at the bottom. According to Newton, a body in motion will remain in motion... if you're not good at stopping.

Tyrolia cable binding

Ski equipment was pretty crude back then. The ski bindings we are familiar with today were not available in the 1960s. I recall the skis had a toe "release" binding that would turn left or right if enough lateral force was applied, releasing your boot (hopefully requiring less force than what would tear up your knee ligaments.) But, for the rear, your boot had a groove in the back of the heel that accommodated a cable that would pull your boot tightly forward when you latched the cable binding at the front. More like an old cross-country configuration than what we use today for downhill skiing. Lots of injuries back then.

Fitzwilliam had only 2 ways to get you up the slope: a rope tow and a poma lift (also known as a button lift.) Each of these "surface lifts" has its challenges. In both cases, you literally have to ski up the mountain while either being pulled by a rope or, if using the poma lift, putting the "button" between your legs and getting yanked up the hill (see video.) For my very first time on the poma lift I tried to sit on it (which you cannot do,) it and I went to the ground, and I landed on and put a huge bend in one of my ski poles (you cannot unbend them.) Fun skiing with 1 pole.

Fast forward to 1982. I start dating Carol. If you have read my previous blogs: "Things about my Carol" (link,) you already know that she was a bit fiesty and that she was also a bit adventurous (she was a certified scuba diver.) Well, she was also a snow skier. She had even skied in Austria before we met! After several weeks of dating, she informed me that she had already booked a trip out west to go skiing and, that I could either go with her (provided I knew how to ski) or I could wave goodbye from the airport because she was not going to cancel her trip just because she had started dating me. No boyfriend was going to cramp her style I guess. I told her I did, in fact, know how to ski since I was a New Hampshire native (but I hadn't skied in over 10 years.)

She said, "OK, prove it."

I said, "prove what?"

She said, "that you actually know how to ski."

I said, "you think I'm making that up just to impress you?"

She said, "well, if you know how to ski then you should have no problem proving it." 

Good grief! Fiesty gal.

So, one Saturday we made a day trip up to Maggie Valley, NC to spend the day skiing at Cataloochee Ski Area. 

Cataloochee trail map

Since I hadn't skied since Nixon was in the White House, I had to borrow ski apparel/ gloves/ goggles from one of Carol's friends. I had no insulated undergarments so, under the ski bibs, I actually wore panty hose with the feet cut off of them (it does keep your legs warm.)

T-bar

@ Cataloochee

Carol had her own skis and boots but I had to rent my gear. Once we were all set to start, we were heading to the lift (it was a T-bar... another surface "pull you up the mountain" type lift)
She stopped and said, "ok, show me what you've got." I said, "you're not going up with me?" She said, "no... I want to wait and see if you can actually get up and back down this bunny slope without falling... I don't want you to embarass me."

By now, relationship red flags were flying all over the place. But, I kinda admired her spunkiness. I felt up to the challenge.

@ Cataloochee

So, the T-bar pulled me up the slope while I prayed, "Lord don't let me get my skis crossed or catch an edge going up this little slope." The good news is that I made it up and proceeded to ski right down without embarassing myself at all. The kid still had it.

She said, "OK, we can ski now." We spent the rest of the day skiing and having a great time.

Oh, by the way, Carol canceled her ski trip to Jackson Hole, WY because she fell in love with this transplanted Yankee. (Also, I couldn't get off work to go nor could I really afford it at that time.)

And she didn't want to go without me. Awwwww.

Over the years we made multiple trips skiing up in West Virginia and out in Colorado. Breckenridge was our favorite.

Prove it she says.

Hold my beer...

first trip to Breckenridge- 1987

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An Ode to Carol on our Anniversary

   

our first "together" home

The years have flown by, so how did we fare? 

forty-two years, and still quite the pair. 

Loving and laughing, and laughing some more, 

with faithful reminders of how much I snore.

Forty-two years, the questions ran deep,

like “what is that smell?” and... “is it your feet?”

We laughed at each other’s most obvious quirks,

but never forgot to cherish the perks.

I promised adventures from here to afar, 

that mostly just meant long rides in the car. 

We knew from the start where this thing was headed,

together for life with nothing regretted.

"I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life
 I've been waiting for a girl like you, a love that will survive

 I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive

 Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life"

1981 Lou Gramm and Mick Jones- Songwriters
1982 Mike Toomey- falling in love with Carol Williams

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How Are You Doing?

More than a pick-up line?

Many years ago, during my life in the corporate world, we had a guy named Joe who worked in our Purchasing Department (that's what it was called way back in the olden days.) I actually went to high school with his son. I can remember passing him in the hallway one day and, as is often the case when you are doing a drive-by greeting, I said, "hey, good morning, how are you doing?" When we ask that question we usually expect a response like, "good, how about you?" It's not meant to be a real interrogatory; it's mostly just a casual salutation. But, on that morning, Joe took it as an actual question. For about 3 or 4 minutes he shared several things that were not going so well in his world at that time. I really had no choice but to stand there in the hallway and hear him out because, after all, I did ask him the question. I was caught off-guard and it was bit awkward. I wasn't expecting him to share with me how he was actually doing. But, the subsequent times I asked Joe that question, I was prepared to listen to this very nice guy, old enough to be my father, who apparently needed someone he knew and trusted to listen. Sometimes it was personal, sometimes it was job related, sometimes it was simply, "good, and you?"

A few years back, I taught a series of Sunday School lessons when I was leading a group of young parents. I called the series "Lies We Hear and Say At Church." The very first lesson topic was how we give the answer, "I'm doing fine" when asked at church (or most anywhere, really) how we are doing.

This should be no shock to anyone: it is sometimes untrue.

But here's the thing. When it is untrue, we often don't really know what to say instead.

Sometimes we fib because we just don't want to burden people with the truth. Sometimes we assume it is being asked more as a greeting than a real inquiry. Sometimes we truly don't know how to describe how we are doing. Sometimes it is just easier to say, "I'm doing OK, I'm hanging in there, I'm great, I can't complain, I'm doing the best I can." We've all said and heard some version of that answer almost every day.

There is another question that can be equally hard to answer... or at least answer honestly.

"How can I help?"

I was reading a blog on this very topic that posed a suggestion, "What if I had a list of responses ready ahead of time so I woudn't stutter and stammer and ultimately let the opportunity go to waste?" She then listed 15 example responses.

I'm not too sure I would be comfortable with having a laundry list at the ready. It would almost be like casually suggesting to someone, "hey we need to get together for lunch soon" and the person says, "that sounds great... how about right now?" Whoa whoa whoa! That was too quick. I wasn't ready for that answer.

There are several things I am not very good at doing. One is navigating the food spread at a reception, banquet, etc. where the food is self-serve with multiple tables, carving stations, etc. I always spend way too much time talking to people and miss out on getting much to eat. The buffet professionals, however, know exactly how to maximize the gastro experience. Some are adept at balancing multiple plates with one hand and loading them to the maximum. Others are the no-plate-needed buffet table grazers that feed for a while at one station and then move on to the next until they have gotten their fill of everything available. I don't think I even ate at our daughter's wedding reception. And I paid for all that food! I'm just no good at it.

The other thing I'm not good at is answering the question in any meaningful way when asked, "how can I (or we) help?" (especially these days) Sometimes people even suggest answers that I usually politely dismiss. Why do I do that?

Maybe I think I should be capable of keeping all the plates in my life spinning without letting any fall. Maybe it is pride. Maybe it is fear. I wish I knew.

"How are you doing?"

"How can I help?"

I need to be more like Joe.

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Things About My Carol: Part 3: "The Barber and the Bald Guy"

Have you ever had difficulty correctly using the terms irony or ironic? Sometimes we describe something as ironic when it should be more accurately described as a coincidence or maybe a paradox. I've been known to get it wrong.

A party band in which I was once a member played at an outdoor family-type event where there were some goats (and a llama) nearby in an encircled fenced area. (I have no real explanation as to why any band was asked to play nor why there were animals present.) They had put several paper signs all around the fence that said "Do Not Feed the Goats" which I only noticed as I watched a goat eat one of the signs. I think that falls under the category of irony. Maybe not.

Did you know that in order to be a barber (among other professions) you must be licensed? In the State of Georgia, you must either graduate from a legit barber school or you must apprentice under the supervision of a Master Barber. If you choose the apprentice route, you're required to complete 3000 hours of apprenticeship. That's the way my wife Carol did it. (Both tracks require passing the state exam to get your license.) She apprenticed under Bill Devore, who was a well-known barber in Augusta, GA. Sadly, he passed several years ago. Under Bill's supervision, Carol completed her required hours of training and passed the exam. 

Yes, my Carol was a Master Barber.

She set up shop in a booth at the Bushwacker Men's Hairstyling, which is now long gone. Carol had a great clientele and a successful business. No surprise.

After my divorce, two of my friends, Skip and Fred, started talking to me independently about a year into my new, unintended bachelorhood about this gal in whom they thought I might be interested. She happened to be both guys' barber (or stylist as it was called back then.) I thought it a bit strange that two non-colluding friends were telling me, more than once, what a good fit Carol and I might be. When I asked Skip, who happened to be married to my ex-wife's sister, why she would be someone I'd be interested in he said, "she'd be perfect for you... you're both short and you both scuba dive." Really? I guess I should go propose right now.

About a year later I did meet Carol and we did start dating and we did, soon thereafter, get married. Skip was apparently correct. But it didn't have anything to do with stature or scuba.

In those days, most guys were wearing their hair a bit longer and styled. A typical haircut first involved getting your hair shampooed, then cut with scissors rather than clippers, then blown dry and styled, and even having a bit of hairspray applied to keep your full hairstyle looking good. I think this relatively new type of men's hair cutting/ styling was called the Sebring method, named after the famous LA hair stylist, Jay Sebring, who was tragically murdered by the Manson family in 1969. Men had longer and bigger hair back in the 70s/ 80s.

Early on in our dating, Carol asked me who did my hair. I told her and she said, "well, don't feel like you have to stop going to Harold... I don't really want to cut your hair." Hmmm. I wasn't expecting the unsolicited rejection. I was actually looking forward to maybe getting free haircuts! After a couple months she told me out of the blue in an annoyed tone, "I don't like the way Harold cuts your hair.... he leaves it too short on the sides." I told her that she should cut it then. So she did. But, as she was blowing it dry I could feel her pulling my hair with the brush as if she was trying to stretch my hair. Finally I asked her what she was doing. She said, "you've got weird hair on the sides... I swear I didn't cut it this short... I think it shrunk!"  I guess Harold wasn't so inept after all. I guess I just had weird hair.

Dec 1982 I think...shortly before marriage

(This was about when "we" decided that I should no longer wear my hair over my ears.)

How good was it though that I married my own personal barber/ hair stylist? Just think of the convenience and all the money I would be saving!

I married a barber and too soon went from weird hair to no hair. The barber and the bald guy.

I think that's irony right there.

From high school bangs to bald went by quickly

Epilogue:

A few months before Jessica was born, Carol retired from barbering. Standing on her feet all day, the other stylists' cigarette smoke (yeah, people smoked everywhere back then,) getting occasional cuts to her fingers, and finding little daggers of snipped hair imbedded in her skin was a toll that she no longer wanted to pay. Plus, she wanted to stay at home with our firstborn. The cries of lament from so many of her customers caught her off-guard. Some begged her to reconsider. A few offered to come to our house for haircuts. Some said they would pay double the normal fee. So many guys loved Carol as their barber. People still comment to me after all these years (39 years ago) how much they loved sitting in Carol's chair. I'm not even sure the main reason was the quality of the haircuts they got. I think they just enjoyed the time they got to spend with her, if only for a half-hour or so.

I get it.

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Things About My Carol: Part 2: "And though she be but little, she is fierce"

Some of you reading this have never actually met my wife, at least not in person. For those that have not, allow me to confidently boast... you have truly missed out.

Rudy and Fortune

In the classic sports movie, "Rudy," the title character has dreamed his whole life of playing football for his beloved Notre Dame. He has, by pure dogged determination, made it onto the practice squad for two years. However, he quits the team prior to the final game practice because he learns that he will not be able to "dress out" for at least one game, as he was promised by his former head coach. Feeling sorry for himself, he seeks a sympathetic ear from the head groundskeeper, Fortune, who had befriended and mentored him. Fortune speaks some reality to the undersized Rudy. He tells him, "...you're five foot nothin', a hundred and nothin'..." and goes on to tell him that he should be thankful to have even gotten on the practice squad, not to mention the quality education he has earned from the elite school.

I've always liked that line... five foot nothin', a hundred and nothin'. Why? Because it literally describes Carol. She tops out at five feet, 1 inch. Her average weight throughout most of the non-pregnant times of our marriage was right at 100. Five foot nothin', a hundred and nothin'.

However...

"And though she be but little, she is fierce!" (Emphasis mine.)

For you non- Shakespeareans, this is a well-known line from the play, "A Midsummer Night's Dream" (Helena is speaking about diminutive Hermia.)

The quote is often used today as a reminder that a person can be strong and brave even if they are small in stature. I have many adjectives that come to my mind when I think of Carol. Strong and brave are certainly on that list. As is fierce.

During the earlier years of our marriage, let's just say that some of my behaviors created disagreements and arguments. Far more times than not, whatever it was that Carol was upset about, her concerns weren't without merit. I, however, would sometimes get defensive and I could usually out-argue her. She would eventually withdraw (both verbally and emotionally.) Even now I regret the way my less mature self handled some of our disagreements. But, when she was determined to make me see that I needed to see her point, she didn't back down. Like I said, she is fierce.

She employed an effective tactic. She would occasionally write me a letter. You can't argue with a letter. There was one, multi-page letter in particular that I have kept to this day. I'm hesitant to disclose it, even 27 years later, because of the nature of it.  When I got home and found this letter on the dresser, I took it outside, sat on the picnic table, and read it. Through tear-filled, convicted eyes I read that I hadn't been spending enough time with our kids, and specifically with our son, then a third-grader. She said that I was allowing my job and my commitments at church to consume too much of my time and attention and that, if I didn't do something about it, I would look back one day and regret the time lost with our young kids. It takes a certain tenacity and ferocity to not give up on saying what needs saying when you know something is important and worth fighting for. That letter was a 2x4 to my forehead. It was also a letter full of love. She knew I needed both.

I saw that strength and courage so many times over the course of the 42 years we have been together. From her daddy's prostate cancer diagnosis two years before I even met her to his subsequent diagnosis over 10 years later when the cancer had metastasized and returned, I saw her strength and courage. I saw the strength as we helped her mama deal with her husband's death and eventually helped her sell her house and move into ours. And I saw that courage and strength when her mother's pancreatic cancer diagnosis came about 4 years later. Carol was determined that we would care for her at home while, at the same time, she continued home schooling our daughter. Carol never complained. She worked to keep our home life as normal as possible while caring for her mama right up until the end.

Carol did a lot of things fiercely. She loved her children... fiercely. She loved their spouses... fiercely. She loved the grandchildren... fiercely.

There was nothing nonchalant about Carol's love. If she loved you, she loved you fiercely.

And she loves her Savior with even greater intensity.

And all through her courageous, never complaining battle with this insidious disease that she fights, she keeps reminding me:

Though she be but little, she is fierce. Little Carol. One tough woman.

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Things About My Carol: Part 1: "She Can Talk Your Ear Off"

I mean this in a very good way

Just today, a Facebook Memory (you know those daily prompts from Facebook about things you posted years ago?) popped up on my feed. It was a video I posted 15 years ago shortly after our daughter's wedding. It's just a short 23 second clip of Jessica, Carol, and bridesmaids in the bridal room. I'm a pretty sentimental slob. Never really was that way until after our daughter was born. After the kids were born I found myself wiping my eyes to Budweiser Clydesdale commercials and sappy movies. I did get teary-eyed when I saw that 15-year old clip this morning though. I'll tell you why in a minute.

When Carol and I started dating back in the 1900s, I was amazed at how much she loved to talk to people. While she was always a bit on the shy side, once she was comfortable with you she would talk... and talk and talk. And she didn't care what your station was in life, she loved to talk to anyone and everyone... the wait staff, the lady that cleaned our hotel room, kitchen staff at church, the janitors at school. In fact, she would go out of her way to have a conversation with folks that in some cases get completely overlooked in our society. I always admired that about her. It's just the way she is wired. We were always the last ones to leave church when we had a nighttime service because of the conversations afterwards (I'll take some responsibility for this one too... I can be a bit chatty.) I could see the janitorial staff waiting in the wings for us to get out so they could finish and go home. I remember one night after leaving a restaurant I discovered that, somewhere along the way, Carol had disappeared. I was getting the kids into the minivan muttering "where is your mother?" Well, I look inside the restaurant and there she is having a full blown conversation with who knows who at one of the tables. It's obviously someone she knows and she is talking away. They can't eat their meal and I can't go home. I almost left her there. I could fill volumes about my Carol. Bottom line? She could talk your ear off.

Primary Progressive Aphasia. PPA. Probably not one of the most well known diseases. More people may be familiar with the singular term aphasia. Aphasia can affect people for several reasons. Sometimes it is a temporary condition and sometimes it is permanent and gets progressively worse. Aphasia is basically a disorder in the brain that impairs a person's ability to communicate. People that have suffered a stroke, brain injury, or have neurogenerative disease can experience aphasia.

Many of you already know this. In 2016, when Carol was first diagnosed we were told she had primary progressive aphasia which is one of the forms/ variants of frontotemporal dementia. I could get deeper into the weeds on it but, you can always Google it yourself if you are curious. More detail doesn't really add to what I wanted to say here.

It started with difficulty word-finding. There would be longer than normal pauses or more ums and ahs than normal when she would speak or answer a question. She couldn't come up with the word. As time went on it became more pronounced. Later it seemed she was having difficulty understanding some things spoken to her. Eventually the words were fewer and farther in between. Most recently, nearly all speaking has essentially ceased.

I remember coming home from work many an evening after Jessica and Michael were born and Carol would meet me at the door and want to tell me all about what had happened that day (she was a stay at home mom and I knew how hard that could be.) She hadn't spoken to another adult all day. I had just spent my entire day talking to employees, bosses, and customers non-stop. I can remember putting my hand up while we would be sitting on the couch and asking her, "please... can you not talk for just a few minutes until I can unwind a bit?" She always took it in the spirit in which I asked it. Sometimes she just spoke more than I could absorb. Later we would talk about our day and all the other things couples talk about.

I say all that to tell you this.

Among so many other things, I miss her voice. And when I unmuted that video this morning I heard the voice I haven't really heard in a year or two. And it reminded me of how much I miss it. And it hit me pretty hard. I'm having a hard time typing right now while she is sitting in the recliner right next to me.

(Be sure to unmute)

Yes, we have boxes of videos somewhere from all the video she took throughout our kids' entire childhoods. And I know we have her talking and laughing in several of them. I have only two voicemails on my phone from 2017 that I had the foresight to not delete. I listen to them occasionally. I will never  delete them.

Oh, how I wish she would talk my ear off again.

I'll share some more things about my Carol in future blogs. Most of what I write is really just for me. You are more than welcome to eavesdrop though. Never stop talking to the people you love.

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Is It Still Christmas If I Don't Decorate?

Carol was always the one that made the house look so nice for Christmas. The only real question was what day on the calendar was it appropriate to start decorating and putting up the Christmas tree. I was always in the camp of waiting at least until after we celebrated Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. But the pull was always strong to decorate earlier as we fell deeper and deeper into the trappings of the advertisers, retailers, and Hallmark, who begin their Yuletide barrage even before Halloween (did I just say that out loud?) Or maybe it is just that Carol loved to get the house all dressed up for Christmas and the earlier the better. I never put up much of a fuss though. No need. I knew who the Christmas boss was.

This will be our 9th Christmas in Dementialand. In the first few years after her diagnosis, Carol was still able to do her thing as far as Christmas decorating goes. One of the many things (and favorite things of mine) she used to do was display, all around the house, the many different nativities we had acquired. We had several. Over the years I tried to find new ones in my/ our travels. We had nativities from Israel, Italy, Brazil, Panama, and Ecuador, among others places. Some were full manger scenes, some were just a piece or three.

                  

As the years went by, the responsibility fell to me to do the Christmas decorating. Trust me, you don't want me doing your Christmas decorating. I have no talent for it. But I've tried, at least, to put up our little pencil tree with a few ornaments and some other sparse decorations here and there.

This year has been different. This year I've done nothing. Our kids and grandkids are coming to spend Christmas with us (this is "our" year for Christmas; last year was our year for Thanksgiving.) Our family won't be here for Christmas day though. They will do Christmas morning at their own homes with their kids. As it should be. Kids and grandkids arrive a day or two after Christmas.

But, Carol doesn't even know it is December, much less soon-to-be-Christmas. So, I have done zero decorating this year. It's not because I'm lazy or depressed or anything. It just seems... unnecessary. I've been focused on other things. Of course, I have presents for all four grandkids and they will tear into them when they all get here. And we will feast on a great meal together Saturday. And we will rejoice!

So, is it still Christmas if I don't decorate? I guess that depends on what the holiday means.

Jesus Christ is still Emmanuel... God with us. And we will still celebrate the gift that God gave all of us over 2,000 years ago. I'm pretty sure that God is more concerned with what is in my heart than what is under (or on) my roof.

Christmas isn't Christmas because of anything I do. Or you do. Christmas is Christmas because of what God has done. Jesus is all the adornment we could ever need.

The answer is yes.

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