Moment of truth: The interview…

And so it began!

The one-story school building had that “summer-cleaned-ready-to-start” look and smell, which I quickly picked up on the moment I scurried inside out of the downpour.

It was nighttime now, and the interior of the place was dark, with the exception of the small office directly ahead of me, and the library a couple of doors down. It wasn’t hard to figure out that this would be where the board meeting would be held, and the sound of voices from there confirmed this for me.

I didn’t have time to stand around and assess the situation, as a short, slightly balding man approached me from the school office. He smiled and introduced himself and said that he was glad I’d made it all the way from “up North.” He told me to make myself comfortable in his office until they were ready for me, and he’d come get me when they were.

Like waiting in a doctor’s office, a million thoughts coursed through my mind as the minutes seemed to plod on like molasses. Finally, the principal came and got me, and we headed the short distance to the library where the superintendent and the entire board of education were seated around a couple of long tables in the center of the room. In front of them was a single chair, no doubt for me to sit in and perform to the best of my ability, if I wanted to secure a teaching position—my first—in their school. And as I managed to put on a “happy” face and look relaxed (I was anything but), I eased myself into the chair and took a couple of deep breaths, all the while noticing that each member seemed to be studying me very closely. A few friendly nods of heads were extended my way, but most were stoic, serious demeanors.

I don’t recall after all these years exactly how long the interview lasted, but it seemed as though it was much longer than it really was. Throughout the whole ordeal, I could hear the rain pounding unmercifully on the roof, which made hearing difficult. When the interview had come to a close, and I was still a functioning human, I had a pretty positive feeling about it all. I seemed to have handled all of their questions–unexpected ones as well as the “usual” type. If nothing else, I had gained a valuable bit of experience in the interviewing process—and with the whole school board, superintendent, and principal, to boot! 

Afterwards, the principal told me that he thought I’d done well and that the board seemed to be impressed. Of course there were other candidates to interview in the days ahead, but I could expect to hear from him—one way or another—by the first of the next week. He wished me luck and reminded me to travel back home safely that night. 

And so, I returned to the car where dad was waiting, and the rain had eased up a bit. I gave a quick rundown of all that had taken place and how I felt about things. I knew I’d spend many miles on the ride ahead, rolling things over in my mind of how I could have done better, and I was awfully glad that my dad was with me on that dark and stormy night.

But now, we needed to get ourselves northbound, as it would be very late when we got home to Western Springs. Without further delay, we pulled out of the school parking lot and turned back to the interstate to head a short distance eastward to Vandalia where we’d connect with another old and famous highway to begin our travel north.

Until next time…

Getting our bearings & finding the school

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mgschools.com

After a more deliberate drive around the small town of Mulberry Grove that didn’t seem to have much life to it, we did come upon the junior/senior high school, a low buff brick building that appeared to be well tended to and very pleasant looking. Just seeing this nice-looking school, I felt so much better and slowly began to look forward to my upcoming interview there in a few hours from now.

Dad and I found our way back out to the main intersection where the small gas station/restaurant was located. We discovered that we could get something to eat here, but since there was still plenty of time to “kill” before I had to be at the school for the board meeting that evening, we decided to see if there was anything outside of Mulberry Grove where we might eat and do a little exploring.

An elderly gent behind the counter of the service station told us we could either go west about five miles to Greenville or back east about the same distance to Vandalia. We decided to see what Greenville had to offer.

As I wrote previously, this was totally foreign territory to me, so it would be good to get a feel for the lay of the land. Greenville, a much larger town than Mulberry Grove, had a college and a lovely town square with various businesses on all sides. We leisurely drove through many residential neighborhoods, always ending up back at the town square.

In a while we came upon a restaurant that specialized in chicken dinners, and we could go inside to relax and eat. We both agreed that it was good to be out of the car for a while. I can still recall the hot chicken dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn and cold iced tea that Dad and I enjoyed on that long-ago afternoon.

The day had certainly been long and tiring, and we both felt rejuvenated after the southern Illinois-style meal. We must have spent well over an hour and a half in the restaurant, eating, chatting, and pondering what might lie ahead that day and night. Dad, in his special way, managed to encourage and calm me in preparation for the upcoming interview. Once again, I realized just how glad I was that he was along with me.

Before we realized it, the sun had given way to heavy and dark clouds that hung low overhead. The typical summer humidity in southern Illinois seemed to intensify. The rain that had been in the area early in the day seemed to be bent on returning. Distant thunder rolled off in the west. Without a doubt, a storm was imminent for that evening.

I had one special task yet to do before heading to the school that evening. I needed to change back into my shirt and tie and sport coat that I’d worn to the morning’s interview in Munster. Thankfully, I’d been able to change out of that outfit at a rest area facility on our way south. We returned to the gas station/restaurant on Mulberry Grove’s outskirts and I used the tiny men’s room there and finagled my way into my “interview outfit” once again. Fortunately, I’d brought my shaving kit along and was able to have a quick shave and also to brush my teeth. 

After changing clothes and freshening up, I was ready to wend my way to the school. Of course, my stomach was turning circles and my nerves were working overtime as I anticipated the various questions that would be thrown my way later. And to add to the mystery of things, the imminent storm had arrived and a steady and unrelenting rain hammered down.

Dad and I sat in the school parking lot for an interminable length of time, relaxing as the rain poured relentlessly. Once again, I hoped that this gloomy monsoon was not a harbinger of things to come, since I would be going inside shortly, and I closed my eyes and thought a million thoughts, waiting for any kind of easement of the storm so I could go inside. Dad would wait for me in the car, and he wished me luck one more time, and I quickly opened the door and made a mad dash through the rain and on into an unfamiliar school!

Iconic roads & parts unknown…

 ( In my previous post, I wrote of my attempts to land my first teaching job. The story continues here.)

My dad, God rest his soul, offered to take a day off from his work and spend the day with me visiting Munster, Indiana, and then down through “parts unknown” to the Mulberry Grove, Illinois, School Board meeting that same night!

And that’s exactly how it went, on what turned out to be a very memorable and important day and night in my life. As for the morning interview at the Munster school, I never heard from them again afterwards—although the experience seemed positive, unlike my first one a few weeks before. I didn’t have time to stew about anything since we had a long trip ahead of us in order to reach the 7:00  p.m. school board meeting that night.

While I’d been with the Munster High School principal, Dad had planned out the route we’d take to get to Mulberry Grove. The closest and most convenient route from where we were at the moment was US Highway 41, at one time the major route between Copper Harbor, Michigan, and Miami, Florida. Of course, it would later be replaced by Interstate slabs, but at the time, Highway 41 would serve us well, getting us to Terre Haute and I-70, where we’d turn west to get to the town of Mulberry Grove way down in Bond County in south central Illinois.

With the Munster interview finished, we set out on the next leg of our “job interview” adventure, southbound on Indianapolis Avenue—U.S. Highway 41—through a drizzly, dreary July morning. Dad drove; I sat back and closed my eyes, pondering what lay ahead miles down the road, hoping that the rain that had set in that morning, as we made our way south, was not a harbinger of things to come.

Down through the rural Hoosier land we travelled. I dozed, off and on, and finally was fully alert and awake by the time we reached Terre Haute a couple of hours later. At this point, we’d leave one of the nation’s old, iconic roads and hop on I-70 and travel west. Being the first time that I’d ever been in this portion of either Indiana or, soon, Illinois, the surroundings took on a rather new and special meaning for me. It was my first introduction into south central Midwest. I had only heard or read about many of the towns and places we came upon.

Before too many more miles clicked off, Dad stopped for gas and a “necessary” visit to the facilities. Afterwards, I took over driving so Dad could nap a bit. If all went as expected, we would be in the Mulberry Grove area by mid-afternoon in plenty of time for that night’s meeting.

Of course, I had no idea that the Interstate on which we were driving was the replacement for another famous highway, U.S. 40—The National Road. As I later learned, the majority of its route through Illinois, follows this road. However, on this day I wasn’t at all concerned about any of that; my focus was on getting to the school board meeting on time that evening. Eventually, I’d appreciate the historic importance of these roads I journeyed on at the moment.

As we neared our destination in early afternoon, the rain had abated, leaving a hot and humid day in its wake. Dad and I were both eager to exit I-70, and the large, green sign couldn’t have appeared ahead at a better time! 

“Mulberry Grove Next Exit”

As I slowed the car to leave I-70, Dad said, “Well, we made it with plenty to spare. I think we need to find somewhere to grab a bite.” Although I was in complete agreement, that was easier said than done, since we had no way of knowing where anything was–or, if there were any restaurants nearby.

On first driving into Mulberry Grove, I read the sign that indicated that the town was comprised of 700 people. As it turned out, there was a gas station/restaurant just outside the town, which seemed to be the center of any activity. We took a quick drive through the town–didn’t take long!–and I had a rather sinking feeling in my stomach. What a difference from the hustle and bustle of the world we’d left up north that morning! Two words came to mind: Tired & Worn.

I now had thoughts of turning the car around and finding the closest road running north and forgetting this whole idea of going through with an interview in an unfamiliar area in front of total strangers. Dad had a feeling that I was thinking this, and he broke the spell and calmed my churning insides: “You’ll feel better after you relax and get something to eat. You’ve come this far, and you’ll do well.”

Although I was inclined to think that Dad was just trying to put me at ease, I agreed to give it a chance and to get myself ready for the upcoming interview that night. Besides, I was hungry, and we needed to find some place that offered a decent meal. And so that was our next objective!

Until next time…

A long-ago teaching job interview “adventure” . . .

I have now been retired from teaching middle school kids reading and English since June of 2007, yet I still can recall—with vivid clarity—the  job interview back in late-summer of 1973 that helped me get the proverbial “foot in the door” and eventually secure a teaching job. It had become rather a hectic and frantic “scramble” that summer to overcome the loss of a position before I even had the position! 

None of this helter-skelter would have been necessary had the job I’d thought was mine had acutally been offered to me. Alas, it wasn’t, and the whole unforeseen experience was a colossal wakeup call, one I very much needed, mind you! How naive I had been to believe that my first teaching position was a foregone conclusion. . . in the bag. . . a sure thing, etc.! I even had delusions of spending most of that post-graduation summer lazing around and taking my sweet time gathering up whatever I would need for my new life in a different town.

Oh, how wrong I was!

When June turned into July, and I still hadn’t heard from the superintendent, who’d previously “unofficially” assured me that I’d have a job in the school system back in my old hometown following my graduation, I began to worry. As much as I hated it, I called and spoke with him directly. After the general run-around, he informed me that the job was no longer vacant and wished me good luck on my future career endeavors. Thus, any thoughts of “lazing around” for the rest of the summer quickly flew the coop!

After a period of disbelief and shock, I came to my senses and knew I had to figure out a way to jump start my situation and get going on a now-crucial job search. During this near-panic-driven stage, I saw an ad in the local paper for a teacher employment agency.

Without hesitating, I contacted the agency and signed up to receive vacancy notices each week, even though I understood that any job I took would require me to pay a fee out of my first contract. At this point, I wasn’t too picky and didn’t rule out any opening that came my way. It was imperative to find something before the new school year was to begin. July didn’t offer me much wiggle room in that regard!

Soon, I began receiving the “vacancy” bulletins, with job listings and contact information. Had we had our computers and iPads and the Internet then, all of this probably would have been solved before it really got going!

Although I was not very familiar with much of Illinois outside of suburban Chicago, I was willing to go just about anywhere if there was job security and a pathway to a worthwhile career in the mix. I think it was kind of the beginning of my interest in setting off to previously unheard of spots. Of course, being twenty-three, I’m sure I didn’t always think things through all the way, but I had to go about things a different way now.

The first opening that looked “possible,” was at a high school in a small town in central Illinois, not far from Champaign. “Might as well get things going,” I told myself. I arranged for an interview with the principal there. I’d like to say that the two-and-a-half hour drive through the cornfields in typical summer heat a few days later, paid substantial dividends.

Quite frankly, it was a complete waste of time from the very beginning. The lethargic principal seemed merely to be going through the motions, not really showing any interest in what I might have to offer as a member of the teaching staff. Disappointed, I went back out into the hot and humid air and headed back northbound, thinking about what my next opportunity would be, or, perhaps, what other field of work I might consider.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. The next job bulletin I received included a couple of potentially rewarding positions, and I quickly contacted the appropriate people at the two schools to arrange interviews.

The first one, in Munster, Indiana, just southeast of Chicago and not a far drive at all from home, would be with a high school principal on a Tuesday morning a week from my phone call.

The second one, in a place named Mulberry Grove, in south central Illinois, would take place the same evening of my Munster interview.

Two interviews in one day. . . Hundreds of miles apart. . . Could it be done, realistically? 

I had no idea, but at this point, I was willing to give it a try. After digging out my Rand-McNally Road Atlas, I figured that it would be about 350 miles between the two places. When I mentioned this situation to my parents, they were glad I was getting some leads for a job, but they thought my plan wasn’t a wise one to attempt alone.

Stay tuned.

Until next time

Discovering a highway & unexpected career direction. . .

I don’t really recall where I first became intrigued with all things “Route 66,” but I’m thinking that it probably came about during the many times I actually drove lots of miles on a great portion of the Illinois segment beginning back in the 70s. Of course, at the time I really didn’t realize the significance of the highway’s history between Chicago and St. Louis.

Upon graduating from Kent State in the summer of 1973, I was ready to head home to the suburbs of Chicago and while away the days until I heard from the superintendent of schools in an Indiana town in which I was certain I’d be teaching in one of the middle schools.

After all, I’d met with him a couple of times, and there had seemed to be a mutually good feeling between the two of us, and, more importantly, that he seemed eager to offer me the position—sooner than later—as soon as I had all of my requirements and a degree all secured. Now, everything had finally come together. It would only be a short time before I received the call with all of the details, the contract would be in the mail for my formal signature, etc., etc. 

I’m still waiting!

The famous line, “The best laid plans of mice and men, oft’ go astray,” was about to be perfectly illustrated as the summer wore on. I didn’t worry too much through the rest of June, but when the 4th of July came and went, I began to have that queasy feeling that things weren’t quite right. What was going on?

Realizing that teaching positions were probably being filled  pretty quickly in preparation for the new school year, I had to step up and find out exactly what was going on. I placed the long distance call from my parents’ home in Illinois to the superintendent back in Indiana.

When I reached him, I didn’t want to sound overly concerned—although I was all of that—so I simply told him that since I hadn’t heard anything pertaining to the teaching position we’d discussed earlier, that I was calling to find out where I stood in being offered the job.

The silence on the other end seemed to extend for a long, long time. In reality, it was only a few seconds before the superintendent replied that the position was being given to another candidate, and I wouldn’t be offered one.

Even though my stomach now had churned itself into a total maelstrom of sickening nausea, I managed to eke out a question as to why I had been passed over, especially since I had been led to believe that I would be getting the job during our previous two, positive meetings.

His answer was something about my student teaching evaluation (another story for another time, by the way!) and that I wasn’t right for the English teacher position after all. He didn’t care to go any further to clarify for me any of this, and when he wished me luck in my future endeavors, I was left confused,  shocked, and worried.

This late in the summer, would I be able to find something, especially since I was pretty much unfamiliar with any of the school systems in the state of Illinois? I only had lived there during summers after we’d moved from out of state after high school graduation. Whatever lay ahead, I knew I best get cracking and begin a search for SOMETHING.

And so that’s kind of where my travels on Illinois’ stretch of Route 66 comes into the picture. I vividly remember that  first time out there, in unfamiliar territory, driving the five-hour trip back from southern Illinois through a steady rain storm with my dad, following a job interview with the principal, superintendent, and the entire Board of Education earlier that evening. 

At the time, I didn’t pay any attention to the road or what it eventually would come to mean to me. I was only focused on landing a job. Would the one I’d interviewed for that night, the one so far from familiar surroundings, be where I’d begin my career?

After what had happened with the Indiana job falling through, I wasn’t willing to speculate one way or another as we clicked off the miles through the rain on Route 66 to get back to Chicagoland.

In the next post, I’ll explain how that distant job interview came about and how things eventually came together and just how The Mother Road would weave itself through it all.

Until next time. . .

Travel and new adventures…

IMG_5608As I’ve mentioned many times, one of the truly enjoyable things in my life is travel. And since I retired in 2007, I have been able to experience many, many miles “out there” on the road!

Of course, a good number of the travel adventures haven’t come about until we gave up our summer cottage rental a few years ago. We always knew that we wouldn’t be able to afford to do both: a summer cottage and the expense of nice trips. So, after several summers spent on Magician Lake in Sister Lakes, Michigan, we opted to give it up beginning in 2017 and take those trips to places we’d longed to see and visit.

And 2017 was certainly a memorable one for our travels. In mid-August, with a group of friends and otherIMG_5251 acquaintances, we embarked on a Holland America cruise to Alaska’s Inside Passage by way of Vancouver. I had been on one other cruise previously, and it couldn’t hold a candle to this cruise in terms of elegance, comfort, and amenities. It certainly whetted my appetite to “go cruising” in the future! There was never a time on the trip that I was bored or disappointed in the itinerary or the cruising life in general. My one regret for the whole trip, though, was my health (heart valve issue and A-fib) which hampered my ability—or desire—to walk and enjoy the ports of call: Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, Glacier Bay, Denali, and Anchorage.

The smoked salmon we had in Ketchikan, the trip to Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau, the train ride through history on the White Pass & Yukon Route out of Skagway and sampling Spruce Tip Ale afterwards, the stark beauty of Glacier Bay are all “moments” forever etched in my bank of memories.

Leaving the ship for the final time in Seward, we made the long bus ride up to Denali National Park where we spent an overnight, leaving little time for any real exploration of the area. The next morning we boarded the IMG_5375McKinley Explorer train, with domed cars for glorious views en route to Anchorage. As luck would have it, it was a crystal clear day, with visibility unimpeded, making Mt. McKinley/Denali as clear and close-up as anyone could have hoped for.

Through all of the miles, the only wildlife we saw other than birds and small game, was a black bear cub scooting back into the forest as we zoomed past. The ubiquitous moose failed to show, leaving me just a bit disappointed.

After spending the night in Anchorage, we had all of the next day free to sight-see and enjoy the beautiful sunshine of an Alaskan summer. The colors were out everywhere the eye could see, provided by flowers larger than we were used to back in the Midwest!

As night approached, and our bus hauled us to the Anchorage Airport, most of us were ready to get back home. Of course, our flight didn’t leave until midnight, so it would be a “red eye” special, of a full airliner, that took us back to O’Hare International.

Weary and travel worn, we made it back safe and sound and recalled all of those terrific moments of our group’s fun days just past.

But that wasn’t the end of that summer’s travel. In September, Carolyn and I would set out on the next adventure—driving Route 66! 

Until next time…

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The highway calls…

One of the things I’m most counting on to “get back to normal” as soon as possible, is the opportunity to get out on the highway and roll onward—whenever and wherever—I please. At this writing, in early January, surrounded by snow-covered lawns and icy sidewalks, I long for the pleasant days ahead that are just perfect for road tripping! Even though I’m still awaiting “official” word regarding the COVID-19 vaccine, and when I can receive it, I’m mentally making plans for dates and destinations once so many restrictions are lifted.

The Mother Road–Route 66…Somewhere in Arizona…2017

If I listen carefully, I can hear Route 66 calling…shouting… out to me—and so many other travelers—that it’s been way too long away! As old friends, the road and I will eventually enjoy a wonderful and rewarding reunion.

No, I won’t be making the entire trip from Chicago to Santa Monica, California, this time. We did that in September of 2017 and still cherish the many memories of the people, places, and character of The Mother Road. Because of time constraints, there was much we missed on that trip, a prime reason for my intention to make the whole drive again—sometime, just not yet.

Living outside of Chicago, the legendary eastern point of the legendary highway, I’m in a perfect location. First, as soon as I’m able, I will drive the whole of Illinois’s portion of 66, ending at the famous old Chain of Rocks Bridge near St. Louis. Because access to the bridge site was closed during our 2017 trip, we weren’t able to get out to it to walk across it, since it has been closed to car and truck traffic for several years. The thought of being able to get back there, when the days are warm and sunny, helps me put up with this cold and snow and ice.

Besides renewed adventures on Route 66, there are other miles to click off, on other roads and highways, such as US-6, the route I enjoy driving from Illinois, through Indiana, ending at my mother’s in Ohio. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been able to make that drive, and much has changed for all of us in that time. I know, the Turnpikes and Interstates are quicker, but they’re nothing more than a necessary evil in my way of thinking! Because of my absence from all of these old, familiar roads, I believe I’ll see and experience the “things” along the way in a whole new perspective! I’m eager—even anxious—to do so!

Until next time…
The winter outside…from our toasty sunroom!

The road ahead in 2021…

Greetings!

As usual, I have been absent from posting here since writing about my impending “graduation” from cardiac rehab on December 14. To be sure, that all happened as scheduled, and I was ready to hit the next Phase. I took advantage of the three sessions offered at the hospital’s Health and Wellness Center for no charge, and liked it so much, I took a membership for the new year. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve enjoyed going there and getting an hour’s worth of cardio workout on various machines as well as strength and balance with weights and bands. As I tell anyone who asks, “It’s all good!” So my recovery is moving along swimmingly.

Like everyone else, I’m glad that 2021 finally arrived. With all of the sad election outcomes and the turmoil in our country over the COVID nonsense, we can only hope that a new year will include new answers to old problems. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll all come out of all of this so that we can get back to some sense of “regular” living. 

I was thinking the other day just how glad I am that one of my true loves is reading, especially since I watch very little of what is on TV. There are certain shows that we both enjoy, but I could certainly live without them, as I have for unusually long time periods because of the delays in production, etc. And what’s truly amazing is just how many books there are, sitting on my shelves that have yet to be read. It’s almost as though when I bought–or was given–a book, and I placed it on a shelf, that I knew I’d eventually get to it. This past, strange year has really offered me many opportunities to finally get into those that were unread. It’s been, as it always has been, my favorite way to pass time. So many people can’t see how I can sit still for such stretches to read as I do. By the same token, I can’t understand how someone could enjoy painting a house, or puttering around under a car. I suppose that’s the spice of life that makes us all unique.

In closing, I am happy to report that just before I sat down to write, the mail truck pulled up, and I quickly scurried out to the box to see what she’d left for us. Besides the standard junk mail and other waste, there was my Winter Edition of The 66 News, the newsletter for members of the Route 66 Association of Illinois. Skimming through it, fired me up to make plans to be able to once again “hit the road,” something that was out of the question this past year. But I am seeing a glimmer of hope for the road ahead—in so many respects—and that can’t be all bad! I hope your new year is off to a good start and stays that way!

Until next time…

Cardio rehab “graduation” has arrived!

As the days of December wend their way toward year’s end—rather quickly, it seems—so, too, are many events in my life reaching some sort of conclusion. For instance, the cardio rehab program which I’ve been active in since mid-September wraps up this coming Monday when I’ll “graduate.” 

Sitting here on this cloudy and soon-to-be rainy Friday afternoon, I find it hard to believe that I’ve made it through these months and have felt so much better—physically and mentally. What has made it so hard to believe is that when I entered the rehab program, following several weeks of recuperation at home, I was in no way in any condition to do much moving about on a treadmill for any period of time. My entire body was way out of sync, having lacked the needed conditioning and care—even long before my surgery in August. I had put on excess weight over the last few years as well as totally ignoring a routine of some sort of exercise on a regular basis. Yes, I always used the convenient excuse that it was my deteriorating aortic heart valve, which was the biggest factor for my lack of energy or interest in doing much of anything.

Ultimately, open-heart surgery and an implanted pacemaker back in August took care of that excuse, and the rehab program at the hospital these weeks and months has changed my outlook on most things. Things seemed to be racing away from me and my life lacking needed direction. Now, after a good forty-minute workout on a recumbent cross trainer and treadmill, I feel as I haven’t felt in such a long, long time! I no longer dread the thought of something so basically simple as walking. 

For the most part, my mind is now free of fears and “what ifs” about my state of health, and I now actually smile more. My wife and others even go so far as to say, “You’re a different person!” My weight is significantly lower than it was prior to this year of aortic stenosis, A-fib, surgery, and an endless cavalcade of appointments and doctor visits. And, of course, not to forget the COVID pandemic that has forced us all into a different way of living with altered outlooks on such a calamity and our seeming need to be extremely cautious about everything amidst lockdowns, quarantines, and closures. Even so–knock on wood!—I have made it through unscathed thus far.

And now I have one more cardiac rehab session facing me. I’ll check in at 9:15 a.m. next Monday, hook up a heart monitor, rest quietly a few minutes, and then have my blood pressure taken. After that, I’ll get started for my twenty minutes on the NuStep recumbent cross training machine, providing me a solid workout for the legs and arms and overall cardio factors. Next, I’ll get on the treadmill (that thing I dreaded at the beginning of all this!) and walk comfortably for another twenty minutes.

When that part is over, I’ll once more sit in my assigned seat and wait to get the “OK” that my heart rate has calmed back down and I’m free to unhook my monitor and leave just as I have all those other times. Of course when this happens on Monday, I know I won’t be returning, and these four nurses and techs who have become my constant encouragers and helpers (friends?) these many weeks, will no longer be a direct part of my healing and well-being three mornings a week. And that makes me rather melancholy. Although I only know them by first name and the upper portion of their faces due to the required masking, I think of them as special people whom I’ll never forget. What I wouldn’t give to see them, however briefly, without a mask for the first time! Perhaps someday when we once again carry on in a normal manner…

We shall see…

Thanksgiving thoughts…

Thanksgiving 2020…

Despite what must be considered a dismal year, I still  have much of which to be thankful: Family and friends, doctors and nurses, a new home and location, food and clothing, and the good fortune to live in the greatest nation in the world!

I know that all of the ills cannot be remedied at once, but I do believe that the road ahead is going to be healthier and we will eventually be able to go about our lives maskless and unafraid! Whenver that may be, I look forward to it joyfully!

Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you may be!