Cordelia's Mom, Still

Guess What, Mr. V: My Readers Disagree With You

Posted on December 12, 2013 by cordeliasmom2012

Anyone who has been following me from the beginning knows the story about that 11^th grade English teacher, Mr. V. If you don’t know it, you can read the story in my About page.

Today’s post is about revenge versus forgiveness.

For many, many years, I totally hated that English teacher. So much, in fact, that on my second guest post on Cordelia’s website, I wanted to add a postscript that said:

“F… you, Mr. V!”

Cordelia rejected that . (I can’t imagine why – but maybe the fact that it was a Christmas post had something to do with it.)

I even had visions of posting Mr. V’s real name and maybe trying to find out where he lives now and posting that! If I discovered he had died in the interim, maybe I could find his tombstone and post a picture with some kind of wicked comment. (Yep, Cordelia’s Mom can be a really nasty person if you cross her.)

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became – I could have had a real writing career were it not for that one teacher’s stupid comment. I wanted to get back at him somehow, and I wanted him to know that I had proved him wrong – I now had READERS who didn’t think my writing was worthless.

So back and forth Cordelia and I went on the draft of that post. She loved the post itself (who wouldn’t?), but the hatred simply didn’t fit in with the style of her blog.

Maybe I should’ve posted it on:

www[dot]IHateMyOldTeacherAndWishHeWereDead[dot]com.

[Note to readers: don’t even try, I made sure it’s not a real site!)

I wracked my poor pitiful brain to come up with something that would express my anger but not offend Cordelia’s readers.

Finally I came up with:

“Rot in Hell, Mr. V — BUT happy holidays to you, too, wherever you may really be!”

That certainly covered it, I thought. But again, surprisingly, Cordelia rejected it.

Well, I really wanted my guest post published because it was a gift to my newly found readers.

What to do?

I sat back and began thinking (it does happen sometimes.)

I thought back over the many, many years since high school and all the ways that I had found to use my writing abilities. Beyond the normal work-related material, I had found an outlet once I had children of my own. After all, who better to write those Santa and Easter Bunny letters than a parent who knows the child best?

“Dear Cordelia: Thank you for your letter. I’ll try my best to bring you the puppy you want, but I will have to check with your parents first to be sure they have the ability to take care of it for you. I have had problems with PETA in the past when I have given a live animal to a child at Christmas time, and then that child’s parents didn’t want it and wouldn’t allow it. I notice there are lots and lots and lots of other nice items on your wish list, and I promise to bring you at least one of those. – Love, Santa.”

(No, Cordelia, you haven’t forgotten that one – I never actually wrote it. But I would have if I had thought of it at the time.)

So, for each Christmas and Easter, each of my children received a very nice, handwritten note from Santa and/or the Easter Bunny. I even used special pens and papers, and disguised my penmanship so they wouldn’t catch on. And when Cordelia grew too old to believe, I got her a set of special pens, and she took over the task for her sisters. Worked out well for all of us.

***

Anyway, back to the issues with my Christmas post.

My rambling thoughts focused back on Mr. V.

Maybe I was able to write such wonderful stuff now BECAUSE I was so angry with him. Maybe the need to prove him wrong had become the very catalyst I needed to put my abilities into the public light.

My thoughts took an alarming turn. Instead of HATRED, I was beginning to feel THANKFUL to that cranky old man. And at some point, I began to feel COMPASSION.

Maybe the reason he had come down so hard on a starry eyed teenager was because he, himself, had failed as a writer. Maybe in his own, misguided way, he was trying to save me the pain of pursuing a dream that might ultimately cause me more misery than happiness.

(Or, maybe he really was just a cranky old fart who enjoyed dashing a child’s dreams. We’ll never really know, will we?)

After several hours of this deep thinking (and several glasses of wine), I made the final edit to my postscript on the Christmas post:

“Oh, and a note to Mr. V: While I would not be unhappy if you got coal in your stocking this year, I do want to wish you a happy holiday. Thanks to Cordelia’s readers [*gasp* MY readers?] I have finally forgiven you.”

***

Sometimes, a parent learns from the child. Cordelia (and her readers) taught me forgiveness.

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As always, I love to hear from my readers. You may either comment on this post, or email me at: cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com

____________________

Images by: andrewbuter, and Aaron Smith/Random Factor, and only_point_five, and Sarah Deer, respectively

Posted in That's Life | Tagged forgiveness, Mr. V, revenge, writing | 2 Comments

Houses And Other Needy Things

Posted on December 5, 2013 by cordeliasmom2012

The toaster oven died this morning.

Now, I realize that is a minor annoyance for most people. After all, if you’re used to having a toasted bagel in the morning, being forced to have a cold bagel instead is not a great way to start off a hectic workday, but it is not a crisis situation.

However, in my case, this is just one more setback in our already unsteady financial situation.

I blame it all on the dog and my mother.

After having to replace our hazardous front porch last year, we were digging out financially and holding our own, when the 12-year-old dog became ill and had to be put down. It took over $1,000 of our minimal savings, by the time we took him to the emergency vet, had x-rays, then ultimately had to have him euthanized and cremated. I don’t regret the cost – we loved that dog, and his ashes are currently residing in a place of honor in our living room.

But then, my elderly mother became seriously ill, necessitating two overnight trips to visit her in the hospital and the nursing home, which were in a town a couple of hundred miles away. I don’t have credit cards, so all expenses for the overnight stays had to be paid in cash. Not a lot of money, and again, I am glad I went, because my mother died while I was with her – and I would have been devastated had I not been able to spend those last few days with her.

The little devil in my brain has been whispering that if my dog and my mother had not died, none of the following would have happened:

The dryer broke and could not be repaired, and the washer began showing signs that it would soon be suffering death throes, so it made sense to replace both of them at the same time – another $850.

Were we done then?

Nope, the microwave died – that was only $60 because we only use a small tabletop model, and Walmart was having a sale that week. And the iron stopped heating – another $30.

Meanwhile, it turned out that my mom did, in fact, have a very small estate, and the executor made a distribution of about $2,000 to each sibling.

OK, so the cost of vet bills, the hotel stays, the washer & dryer, the microwave, and the iron were pretty much covered.

Wouldn’t you think fate would be satisfied?

Nope.

The smaller dog got sick and we had to take her to a doggie specialist 85 miles away – $105 (that vet gave us a break because we had traveled so far to see him).

The filter on the fish tank failed – $40. I suppose I could have let the fish die since they’re only guppies, but heck, they’re still living creatures, right? And I did save them from being “feeder fish” at the pet store. And it’s so cute when every single one of them comes to the top of the tank when they know it’s near feeding time.

The weather got chilly, and the furnace croaked out. We had three different reputable contractors tell us that not only did the furnace need to be replaced, but since the hot water tank was just as old and could leak at any time (thereby flooding the basement and ruining the new furnace and the new washer/dryer), it would be best to replace that, too. In the process of replacing these items, it was discovered that we needed a dedicated electrical line for the hot water tank. And then, it was discovered that the main water shut-off to the house was corroded, about to go, and had to be taken care of immediately.

Total by the time that was all completed? About $4,800.

Done yet? Not on your life.

It rained, and rained, and rained. The ceiling in the master bedroom began to leak.

Granted, when we moved into the house almost 20 years ago, the home inspector told us we had about 5 years left on the roof. So we were 15 years over that estimate.

And the roof had to be done NOW, before winter set in. Every single contractor we called said that because we already had several layers on the roof and there were now holes, the roof could not be repaired – it would have to be a total tear-down and re-roof.

The first estimates came in at between $6,200 and $8,000 (thank God it’s a small house). But we didn’t have $6,200-$8,000. So we shopped around.

We were already into Fall, and here in Buffalo, NY, snow can come really early. I cringed every time it got windy or looked like rain.

Finally, we found a young, recently established roofer who had an A+ rating with the Better Business Bureau. He was able to do the roof for $4,600 and got it all done in ONE DAY by bringing in 10 men to do the work.

I had to borrow $1,200 from a relative to meet the cost of the roof.

OK, so now we’ve GOTTA be done, right?

Nope, my car developed: (1) first, a flat tire, and (2) transmission issues. Thank heavens, the tire could be patched (only $15), and the transmission repairs were covered by the warranty.

So – NOW we’re done?

Nope, the toaster oven died this morning.

***

I’m almost afraid to go home after work today. There are still a few items in my house that haven’t been repaired or replaced in the last few months. I don’t want to jinx myself by telling you what they are.

And Christmas is coming, as is tax season.

And – I still have to pay Cordelia for all her blogging advice. Thank heavens she lets me pay her with food and drink!

***

ADDENDUM: Immediately after scheduling the above for publication (and I mean, within days), I was driving home on a dark, rainy night and ran over something I couldn’t see, shredding another tire. New tire – $170. Please — am I done yet?

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As always, I love to hear from my readers. You may either comment on this post, or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com

______________________

Images by: j valas images, and Alice Chaos, and Mark Purcell, and SalFalko, respectively

Posted in That's Life | Tagged broke, finances, getting by, houses, money, needful things, poorhouse, repairs | 10 Comments

Good Reads for Snowy Days (or Any Day)

Posted on December 2, 2013 by cordeliasmom2012

COMING THIS MONTH

From paycheck to paycheck, to poorhouse – December 5, 2013
Revenge is sweet (or not) – December 12, 2013
Santa through the ages – December 19, 2013
Light bulbs needed – December 26, 2013

It’s hard to believe 2013 is almost over. It’s been an exciting year for me!

I hope you all have enjoyed reading my posts this year as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

***

Cordelia’s Mom reserves the right to modify the above schedule, or to insert additional posts. Be sure to sign up for email notification so you don’t miss any extra posts.

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As always, I love to hear from my readers. Either comment on this post or email me at: cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com

_______________________________

Image by: teefaye

Posted in Previews, That's Life | Tagged preview, schedule | Leave a comment

Changes and Losses

Posted on November 28, 2013 by cordeliasmom2012

We have a new washer & dryer. The old dryer had the lint filter at the bottom behind the door, but the new dryer has the lint filter at the top under the controls. We have had the new dryer for more than a month, and I still find myself, after every single load, reaching into the bottom of the dryer to remove the lint.

My husband, for whatever reason (at 3:00 a.m.), decided to move the refrigerator from one end of the kitchen to the other. It’s a small kitchen so distance is not a problem. However, I used to be able to stand at the stove, simply turn halfway around, and then reach into the fridge. I could continue stirring whatever I was cooking on the stove during the entire process. Now, of course, there’s nothing across from the stove but bare wall, and I’m still always slightly surprised to find that whatever item I need for cooking is not immediately accessible by a simple half-turn.

I take the same route to and from work almost every single day, unless there’s an accident or construction. Sometimes on the way home from work, I plan to stop off at a store for groceries or household supplies. I can’t tell you how often I’ve forgotten to make the turn onto the street where the store is located because I’m so used to going straight like I do every other night.

My three daughters are all grown and living on their own, but whenever I know they have gone out for the evening or traveled out of town, I find myself listening for that emergency phone call. Heaven forbid my mother-in-law or someone has the misfortune to call on those occasions!

Our huge, cuddly black German Shepherd dog died nearly a year ago, and I still expect to find him waiting at the door when I arrive home.

And in a similar vein, every time I have either very exciting or very bad news, I find myself reaching for the phone to tell my mother, who died earlier this year. Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.

***

I’m sure you thought at the beginning that this would be one of those upbeat how-to-kick-the-habit-and-get-on-with-your-life posts. As a matter of fact, I started off with exactly that intention.

But as so often happens, the words I wanted to write became words that wrote themselves.

And I realized how many serious life changes and losses my family and I have experienced over the years, and how hard it has been to adjust to each one.

I used to be one of those just-suck-it-up-and-be-a-man proponents, but now I’m not so sure it’s all that easy. I’m not saying that it’s impossible to adjust to a negative life change, and I’m not saying that a person should wallow in that negativity forever, and I’m not saying that there aren’t people who are simply unwilling or unable to adjust. I’m just saying that now I have a little more patience for people who are going through some form of hardship.

When I was 26 years old, single and childless, I worked at a business where the other employees, both male and female, were all different ages, some older, some younger. I recall a day when an older woman was seen crying in her cubicle, and when asked why she was so upset, she indicated that it was the anniversary of the day her son had been killed in a car accident.

Another employee, who was the same age as me and also single and childless, made the comment:

“Get over it already – it’s been years!”

At that time, I didn’t realize just how cruel that comment was. It was years later, after experiencing losses of my own, that I came to realize that grief has no timeline.

That older woman was an excellent worker who showed up every day, did her job without complaint, and chatted sociably with everyone else in the office. Until that day, I never even knew she had lost a child.

How could anyone NOT think of a lost son on the anniversary of his death? And how could any mother not cry at that moment?

And how can anyone be so cruel as to tell a grieving person to “just get over it already”?

I have lost a number of people who were close to me, and I think of every single one of them on holidays and on their birth dates, if not more often. That doesn’t mean I have stopped my life to grieve 24/7, but certainly I am entitled to pause for a moment in silent memory of those loved ones. And if a tear or two should slide down my cheek during that moment, I think I’m entitled to that, too.

How can I not extend that understanding to others who are grieving?

Perhaps my need to write this today arose because summer has given way to fall, which will soon turn to winter. Perhaps it’s because I’m fast nearing the average life expectancy for women in this country. Or perhaps it’s simply because writing about deceased loved ones makes them feel so much closer.

My dad, my mom, my favorite aunt, my beloved uncle all died before I began this blog. They would all have been so proud of me.