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So being from the South I have always enjoyed the humor of Jeff Foxworthy and Bill Engval. One of the routines that Bill does is about “stupid people” and how they should wear a sign warning the rest of us. You know, the ones who ask “You have a flat tire” when they find you sitting on the side of the road in 90 degree heat. You just want to respond “Uh no, the other three just swole up and I thought I would just sit here and wait for the last one to swell”. Yeah you know people like this… the movers showing up saying “So your moving” and you say “Nope, just pack up all the junk once a week for the fun of it”. Heres your sign!
Well I think I could have used one of those signs the other day. I had been delaying it as long as I could, but it was time, really time, that I got my hair cut. Anyone who knows me well knows how I hate to do this…almost as much as I hate shopping for jeans or a bathing suit…I hate getting my hair cut. My hair has always been thin and invariably the hair stylist (and I use that term loosely) cuts it too short. The finished product leaves me looking like I am ready to audition for Annie (as in Little Orphan, not Woody Allen). Along with the thin hair I have the natural curls – the ones with a complete mind of their own and that you can never do a thing with. I try desperately to prevent the inevitable and take at least 10 minutes to explain to the stylist what exactly needs to be done, and it always ends up the same.
I had a very bad experience at one salon a while back, so I decided to try a different one. I walk in, the receptionist, who has beautiful hair by the way, asks are “Are you here to get a haircut today”. Ok stop, you think you know where I might go with this, but wait…she is not the one at fault, sure I could say something like “No I just love the smell of hot curling irons in the morning”, but this poor girl is not the one in need of the sign. No it is I who should have worn the sign this fateful day.
You see, the next question she asks me is “ Do you want a particular stylist”. Now I am a firm believer in the truth of the phrase “never trust a skinny chef” and along the same line “never trust a stylist with bad hair”. Unfortunately I had a brain lapse and said “No”. So she calls the stylist over and introduces her –this girl, who looks barely out of high school, has hair that is wild standing straight up, and mixed in the Jet black color is Pink, bright Pink! So here I am, knowing that I should stop the nightmare right then and there…buttttttttttt, I did not. I told myself, it will be okay, she is not dyeing my hair, its just a cut, I will take lots of time to be sure she understands…in the meantime my brain is screaming No -No Don’t Go! Heres your sign!
It did not end well. Cost me 30$ and I ended up with pixie bangs. Oh and if the air is on high in car the bangs stick straight up—this has led to more than a few strange looks at the drive thru and gas station. I’ve since learned to look in the mirror before making public contact. I know, I know, it will grow out. And really, it’s my own fault, why would I think someone who can’t manage their own hair could deal with my complicated mess! It should have been a sign—for me—but I woke up with a case of “stupid” that morning I guess.
Later that evening, overhearing the heated conversation I was having with my mirror -fussing and complaining about my hair – my husband came in to see what was the problem. His response, “Oh honey, you’re beautiful”. Well I am sure he would say this to me even if I were bald, but then I have to say he is a pretty smart guy after 15 years of marriage! Honey, you get a different kind of sign!
Well that is the question—are you a doer or an undoer? A few posts back I wrote about being a Helicopter parent. You know, the parent that gets involved when teachers and professors say that they should not. Well there are two sides to everything, and being a parent, I will usually be found on the side of my kid. In saying this, I do understand that kids need to learn to function for themselves and I take every opportunity to teach my kids how to do this. One such lesson happened recently with my daughter at college.
Now, when I was in college, oh so long ago, the student was often treated as the lowest thing on earth. Although I had some excellent professors, I was shown my place very quickly. All it usually took was a visit to the Bursars office or a complication when registering for class. I knew nothing, got nothing and deserved nothing. You could say it left me with a somewhat negative view of those in charge. But, there were a few times when I came across that person that truly wanted to help. That proverbial “ray of sunshine” – the person who could get me where I needed to be by a simple signature or phone call. Someone who actually cares..a doer.
They are rare, but they are out there, these doers, and somehow my faith in humanity is restored when I encounter them. My daughter is new at this and still a bit naïve I think to expect help from a Chairman’s secretary. After all, she just needed a signature to approve the class. Little did she know the web in which she was about to become entangled was woven by “undoers”. She was exasperated to find that such a simple need could become so complicated. Yes darling, these undoers are crafty, they put obstacles where you least expect them.
When she called me, angry and very upset, I was not surprised at her dilemma. We encounter them daily I told her, at the Bank, on the phone, at the Pharmacy, and my most dreaded of “undoers” –those at the DMV. These undoers are a part of every day grown-up life. Fortunately, there are two kinds of people in our world, the undoers and doers. I explained this life lesson to my distraught child over the phone. I told her, you have to find a way around the undoer, you need to find someone or some way to accomplish your goal despite the roadblock that you have encountered. Gee sounds like one of those video games my kids play!
Sure, I could have probably made a few phone calls and fixed the problem. To be totally honest, I really think some re-training on student rapport would be very beneficial for many of these college offices, and I would be happy to explain my thoughts on that subject, but I doubt they would really care. After all, when you get right down to it, it is the students (or their parents) who are essentially paying the paychecks of the professors and staff, and just like that Dangerfield guy, they deserve a little respect. Yes Helicopter Mom could have flew in to “save the day” — but this time, I chose to let my daughter handle the problem, with a little guidance from Mom of course. I am happy to say she dealt with it, the problem was ultimately resolved and she will be able to register for her class—thanks to a very caring professor. My daughter found a doer! Faith in humanity is restored once again!
This morning I got a hard dose of reality…I found out I was not cool! Seems that I have been misleading myself thinking that I was cool, at least in a retro 80s kind of way. But I guess my kid differs in opinion.
Surely you remember what it was like, walking 20 feet in front of or behind your parents at the mall. Your futile attempt to blend in and pretend that you are not with those goofy looking people that are your PARENTS. Trying to shop alone in Pac Sun or Hot Topic while your Mom is checking the sale rack. Desperately trying to ignore the woman proclaiming loudly “ this would look soooooo cute on you”! Did she really say “cute”! Yeah, if you are like me, you remember, but now, sadly, you are on the other side of that…and you are definitely “not cool”.
I just wanted a hug goodbye. My youngest left for a school trip to Boston today. He will be gone 4 days. Four days that I can’t remind him to brush his hair, brush his teeth, pick up his clothes, pull up his jeans,–wear clean undies, look before crossing the road, don’t talk to strangers— you know the drill– the usual things Moms have always told us to do. I just wanted to give some last minute directions, the kid just wanted to escape, preferably without any of his buddies witnessing the scene. Really, I do understand this, my parents were not cool when I was a kid either.
My oldest kid thought it was cool to have Mom around. I went on the field trips, I was there for every game, concert, play, recital—you name it! I cheered loudly and sometimes cried loudly—but most of the time my daughter thought it was cool to have Mom there. Maybe boys are different, I don’t know, but I doubt the realization that I am “no longer cool” will change my behavior much. Although I guess I should have been, I was not prepared to be “uncool” so soon.
No matter how “uncool”, I will still nag my kids to do things they need to do—at least until they are married and someone else can take over the job. I will still cheer them on loudly and yes, I will cry from time to time as I see them grow up and achieve new goals. I will still see them off on trips, all the while praying for their safe return, and dreading the mess that will be their suitcase when they come back. I will still take them shopping since I do experience sudden moments of “coolness” when I open up my wallet to pay for those ridiculously expensive purple shoes. Maybe I will even try to refrain from telling everyone how cute this will look.
Bottom line, I will never stop being a mother and that is “totally cool” with me. I hug my Mom every time I see her – this woman dealt with me and my antics for years, she deserves every medal there is! I will take every hug I can get, it is a cherished perk of motherhood.
Now, just in case your were wondering, the kid did hug me goodbye and then casually sauntered off to meet up with his buddies—and no I did not cry—at least not until I got back to the car—and yes I have been, am, and will be, praying during the entire trip because I know my kid! Oh yeah and one more thing—Go hug your Mother!!
When I told this story to my son, his response was “only you Mom”. I don’t know, maybe he is right, I do tend to get myself into to some odd, sometimes funny predicaments. I assure you this predicament was not funny to me at the time.
Everyone knows how it works, you fill up the gas tank and get a car wash. Use to be a “free” carwash, but I guess that was back in the day so to speak. So I pay for my discounted car wash and proceed to enter my code. Everything is suds and bubbles, just fine, by the way I did take note of the big sign on the exit of the carwash that says “Blow Horn if Door Does Not Open”. I think wow, I feel sorry for the poor schmuck who has that happen!
Well meet the poor schmuck. It happened to me! I was stuck in the car wash. Ok, when you finish laughing, I will finish my story. So the wash cycle was complete and the light to pull forward comes on and you guessed it, the door is not opening. Water is spraying for the final rinse and the dryers are on and I can’t pull forward. In blind faith, I blow the horn. I wait, almost laughing at myself for this happening to me, but there is no response from the gas attendant. I blow the horn again, a little longer this time, thinking they must not hear me. Waiting again. No response. Ok, it has been 5 minutes. I blow the horn even longer and I wait. My best friend calls, we laugh because I am stuck in the car wash, and I tell her I will call her back. I am a bit flustered now, I blow the horn once more–loud and long–no response.
So I am weighing my options. If I get out, I am sure it will be bad. I just know I will initiate a wash cycle and get soaked, and although that could be a funny sight, at this point, I am not laughing. If I get out and try and lift the door I could initiate the drying cycle again, and that could be worse than getting soaked. Beyond that, I am not too keen on leaving my car in there to go for help. What is a girl to do? Well this girl is married and so I called my husband (thank goodness I had my cell phone). When he stopped laughing he searched the computer for the phone number of the gas station. I am sure he got a good laugh, but he was concerned for me and made me promise to call him as soon as I got out of the car wash. So I called the station and the attendant came right away and opened the door. She apologized over and over, by this time it had been 15 minutes I was stuck, and gave me free passes to the car wash for my trouble. Okay, not sure that I will be using those but I could always give them to somone I don’t like (not really).
After the ordeal, I called my hubby to let him know that I was safe and yes, we had a good laugh. I asked him what else could I have done? He suggested that if I had been unable to reach him on the phone that I could have called 911. Yeah, after giving me a lecture on uneccesary emergency calls, I am sure those guys would have had a good laugh as well. Only me…
How many times have I heard this from my Father and my Grandfather? As a child I don’t think I grasped the true meaning — parents come equipped with so many philosophical phrases, what is a kid supposed to do? This one, however, stuck with me and it is something I truly believe. Many people have paid the ultimate price to give us the many freedoms we take for granted. My Grandfather was a true patriot. He loved our country and raised his children to do the same. He was a World War II veteran who fought to keep America free. He had buddies who fought for the same freedom, but did not come back to enjoy it. They paid the ultimate sacrifice. For them, and so many other patriots like them, I am grateful. I treasure my freedom as an American, it came at a very high price.
So on April 15th, I decided to exercise my freedom in a way I have never have done in the past. I participated in a peaceful protest known as a Tea Party! It was pouring down rain, cold, and miserable, but I went anyway. I stood on a small public square with about 70 other people who shared a concern about the future of our America and our precious freedoms. I did not know a single person there, yet there we stood, all Americans, all exercising our freedoms, all concerned about the same thing — the future of our country. There were no ugly shouts from the protesters, and I saw nothing in the way of the disgraceful signs the press chose to publish in the newspapers and on the internet. Instead, there were horns blowing, thumbs up, and lots of support from passersby. Of course,there were a few who added some negativity in response to the protest, and even a rude gesture by one, but all in all, I felt uplifted and positive by the whole experience. Those opposed to my beliefs are simply exercising their freedom as well, although there is a right way and a wrong way to express yourself, as I explained to someone who asked if I returned the gesture.
I stood on the square that day for my Grandfather, he fought in a horrible war, so that i could. I stood there for my parents who taught me right from wrong, integrity, perseverance, and love for God and country. For parents who endured many hardships so that my brother and I could have opportunities they never had–opportunities made possible by freedom. I stood there for my children, to teach them to have courage to stand upon their principles and to defend their future that is being destroyed by greedy politicians. I stood there in pride–because I am an American.
In this morning’s news I find that I am now considered an extremist, a public threat, and possibly on a watchlist of Homeland Security. I have been called an idiot, a right wing nut job…the list goes on. I guess I should be hurt, and maybe I am a little, these ugly terms are being thrown at me by fellow Americans, people who share the same freedoms. I have never been drawn to politics, this is a new experience for me, and I admit it has opened up an ugly side of people that I have never seen before.
For me, it is no longer about Republicans, Democrats, Candidates and Presidents. It is about the three “F”s –Freedom, Family, and Future. That is what I stood up for on April 15th. Those representing us in this whole political process are out of touch. It is time to reaquaint them with reality, restore the faith by rewarding hard work and integrity, remind them what it means to be American, that freedom isn’t free! I stood up for those beliefs and I hope that I made my grandfather, my parents, and my children proud! Proud to be an American! And so what if others called me names, it surely isn’t the first time, and doubtfully will be the last. You know, Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, Samual Adams, they were all called traitors and other derogatory names, so the way I see it, I am in good company.
We the people…or rather me the person, the person who wanted to see the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence before I die, actually had that dream realized this past weekend. History is exciting for me, not so much for my husband and son, who accompanied me on this adventure to our nation’s capitol. I have to say that they were quite supportive to my cause, especially when they realized the line in front of the Archives building was the one we actually had to wait in. I admit it was a bit of an ordeal.
We were actually in the DC area for an Easter service that my daughter was a part of, and the original plan was to tour DC on Saturday with her. Unfortunately she was not feeling well and decided to stay in bed. We, my husband, son, and I, ventured on sadly without her. We opted to take the Metro, which by the way is the only way to travel around DC, saves the trouble of finding and paying for parking, and not having to deal with the dreaded Beltway is always a plus.
Washington was very crowded, lots of families–after all, it was Easter break. The weather was miserable, rainy and chilly. After a bit of walking we found some lunch (I wish we would have kept walking but that is a different post)–and afterwards we decided to head back to the Archives. The rain had finally stopped and the sun started to peak through. As we walked towards the museum it was still a bit chilly and husband put his hands in his jacket pockets. All of a sudden he gets this look (the one that I know is not good) and says “oh my God”. Now I am thinking he has lost his wallet, the metro cards….so I am saying “what … what”. He pulls out a box cutter! Turns out, he had worn the jacket the other day when we went to Lowes to pick up an order and had taken the box cutter to use when tying the items to transport them in the truck. Likely story, can you see him explaining this to the security guards at the federal museum building? So at this point, we decide the best thing to do is just throw it away in the nearest trash can. My husband failed to see the humor when I said, “you know, it does have your fingerprints on it, maybe we should wipe it off first”. I know, I know, I watch too much NCIS and Law and Order. Really, I was just joking.
As we approached the Archives building, the long line came into view and I could hear the collective sigh of my companions. Being the gentlemen that they are, they felt that they could endure the sacrifice and allow me to realize my dream to see the Constitution. Now I admit, I almost chose not to wait myself, but in the end, I am glad we chose to stay. We waited in line over an hour outside the Archives building, and finally we were allowed to enter. Of course you go through security, much like the airport, and for anyone who has traveled with me, they know that I “look” very much like a terrorist. I must, I seem to always set the alarm off, or there is the guard that selects me to have the body scan–I don’t know why, but I don’t complain, these people have a huge responsibility to keep us safe. So you guessed it– the alarm went off–but this time it was not me! It was my son. I wanted to laugh, but thought I better not. I made it through with no problem, no need to tempt fate. They did the full wand on my son and at first could not figure out the problem. The alarm kept going off! Well it turned out to be his belt–you know the metal block kind you would buy at Hot Topic (I am sure it has a name but I am 40 something, how would I know). Talk about wardrobe malfunction! My son was not scared, in fact I think he thought the experience kind of cool. Me, well I am thinking I have passed my luck on to my child. I guess we will see how it goes when we travel to Bermuda this summer. He definitely will not be packing that belt.
So we pass through security and head to the Rotunda, where the Constitution and the Declaration is displayed. Another line. This time we get the warning speech about flash photography, which I understand, and immediately hand the camera to my husband, let’s just say I am well known for my operator errors! The Rotunda is beautiful and almost majestic, befitting the documents held there. The lighting is low, to reduce the deterioration of the documents, and your eyes have to adjust a bit. The murals on the walls are of our Founding Fathers and I thought them to be quite impressive. There are guards positioned on both sides of the cases holding the documents. We went right to the Constitution and waited for our turn to view it up close. We were amazed at how faded it was, but then that is to be expected, it is over 200 years old. It was more faded at the bottom than the top, as was the case for Declaration of Independence. I was excited that I could still see the signature of John Hancock. Funny, I seemed to have been the only one excited by that..oh well. There was a sense of awe in the place. We were not here to simply view pieces of paper, we were here in reverence, to have a glimpse at what our country is all about–lest we forget, as many have. At least that is what I am here.
Because we are the Clark family, and there is always a bit of adventure in our travels, there is a little more to tell. It is very difficult to get pictures of the documents. As I said, the lighting is very low and flash photography is not allowed. My husband was trying to get pictures for me and tried several options on my new camera to get a good shot. It was really not his fault, with the setting configuration he chose the flash option was positioned for off, but the flash went off. Right in front of the Constitution. Things got quite for a second, and the guard said something, we are still debating what he said, but my husband apologized and showed the guard the camera. My husband fixed the setting, no more flashes, and proceeded to take more pictures. No more problems. I felt bad about what happened, but it was unintentional. I also remembered thinking how many people, particularly politicians, malign our treasured Constitution intentionally, it seemed to put our little mishap into perspective.
The remainder of the museum is very interesting, we were able to see some of it, and it is definitely worth a trip back to see the rest. It is wonderful that this exhibit is free to the public, you do not even have to be American. There were people from other countries in line with us. It made me proud, that the interest was there, the respect and reverence was there, so many people of all ages and races, waiting in a long line together on a Saturday afternoon, for a glimpse of how it all started–this dream called America, The United States.
I have a friend who flies helicopters, and I think that is pretty cool, but if you are called a Helicopter Mom or Parent, you are definitely not cool. Well, I am a Helicopter Mom and I am proud of it! What is a Helicopter Mom you ask? Schools or colleges refer to parents they consider “too involved” as a Helicopter Parent. Well, I have always been very involved with both my kids, and although I am not foolish enough to believe that I know everything about my children, my kids know I am there, active where I can be, on the sidelines if they need me. Since there were small, my husband and I have taught our children to try and handle their own problems. They may not be successful, but each attempt gave us the opportunity to teach something new. We would ask the child why they thought their approach did or did not work, what they thought could be done differently, and sometimes we would even introduced the dreaded “when I was a kid” approach. If the problem could not be resolved by the child, then a parent would have to become involved. This has always worked well for us, so you can imagine my shock when I realized I was a Helicopter Parent.
Before I go any further in my tirade, let me state that I have the utmost respect for educators, my major was education in college but I decided to pursue a career in the business world. I expect my children to show respect for their educators and my kids will tell you that they know I am quite serious about my expectations and the consequences for failure to meet them. In my opinion, teaching is one of the most important, least appreciated, certainly undervalued financially, of all the professions known to man. That said, certainly, there are those who should not teach. By far, both of my kids have been blessed with fantastic teachers. Unfortunately, we have encountered one or two teachers in which this was not the case. In situations involving these teachers, my child would attempt to solve a problem with the teacher only to be rebuffed, or the situation ignored. Eventually this would leave my child frustrated and they would either give up, or bring the problem to me. Should my husband and I be made aware of the situation, we would discuss the problem with the child and then together decide the best course of action. The involvement of the child is absolutely necessary, this is ” prime learning time”. How children learn to negotiate with other people in childhood, will certainly relate to their success in adult relationships.
What did I learn? Well each time my child would tell me, “Mom, they do not treat me the same when you are not there”. In the few situations that actually made it that far, I realized that yes, my kid was pretty perceptive, they were being treated differently. What did my child learn? Well, they learned that you still treat others with respect, even though they may not treat you as you desire, you still attempt to solve the problem–although sometimes you have to be creative, and last, everyone usually answers to someone. If you can’t resolve a problem at one level, and it is an important problem, take it up a notch. I have had to contact Principals, Administrators, School Boards and even Superintendents–and I am certainly not bragging, I think it is pitiful that things had to go that far! Point is, if you believe your right, stick to your principles and seek the help of others–don’t just give up and accept things as they are.
If Helicopter Moms are frowned upon during the school age years, well then they certainly are more discouraged in the college years. Unfortunately, they are sometimes even more needed! I am sorry, I am supposed to hand this school my kid and my money( lots of my money) and then walk away?? I don’t think so. My daughter is in college out of state, just far enough for her independence and just close enough that we can be to her in an hour (if I am driving). Living on campus was something we wanted our daughter to experience, a part of becoming an adult, if you will. I admit, the separation process was hard, more so on me than my daughter, but again, a necessary part of the growing-up process. The first time I came across the term, Helicopter Parent, it was in material sent to the parents by the college. I was a little insulted, but my hope was that my daughter would be able to deal with whatever she encountered, and that our involvement, other than that of stroking checks, would be on the sidelines. Bless her heart, she did so well. She tried to handle every situation, most of which were resolved, at least the ones she shared with us. But there were a few– mostly involving dorms, equipment and maintenance– that were quite simply ignored. These people looked on my daughter as a “lowly college kid” and felt she should be happy with whatever she got. She treated them with respect, as she was taught, they treated her with contempt. Who did she think she was expecting to be able to shower, use the bathroom, wash her laundry and get her mail? They had more important things to deal with than the likes of a “mere college student”. My daughter made 3 or 4 attempts over the course of days, even weeks sometimes,only to be ignored. But look…up in the sky…it’s a bird…no a plane…no it’s Helicopter Mom! I made a call, sent a few emails, all respectfully worded of course, and all was cleared up. That was it. Now I ask you, why couldn’t these people have treated my daughter with the same respect that they treated me?
I have come to the conclusion that there are a relative few at these institutions, schools and colleges, that force us to become Helicopter Parents. Now please don’t confuse me with those wacked out parents who expects that their kid must have the lead in the play, the band solo, all A’s, and they do not mind who they step on or insult (including their own child) to achieve said goal. I am adamantly not one of those parents. But I do not apologize for being a Helicopter Mom either. In fact, I come from a long line of them. There were many trips to the school on my behalf as a child, and I am sure I must have embarrassed my parents on more than one occassion, stellar student that I was. I remember my parents telling me that ” a parent is their child’s best advocate”. As a child who cares more for you, wants more for you, gives more for you on this earth, than a parent! So thanks Mom, and Dad, for helping me to become a Helicopter Mom, and by the way — I am proud of it!
One of the first things that I learned to do on the computer was shop. Poor Jason, I am sure he did not plan it that way. I have been shopping and selling on eBay for at least 8 years now and I have found some great deals over the years. The best by far was spending 2 dollars for 4 Lowes coupons. The coupons were 10% off up to $500. Since we are in the process of renovating two bathrooms I thought we might be able to use the coupons. We saved over $500 using the coupons–no doubt the best 2 dollars I have ever spent! Best of all I still have 2 coupons left. Check out eBay listings for Gift Certificates.
Two other online sites worth mentioning–Restaurant.com and Mypoints.com. Restaurant.com is a site where you can buy certificates for restaurants at half off. In fact there is almost always a coupon to be found with a little search effort and you can get a 25$ gift certificate for 5 dollars or even less. There are some stipulations – like you have to spend a certain amount, or use only for dinner–you have to read the fine print. I have used the certificates many times and it is a great way to save or incentive to try a new restaurant. I have even searched the site for certificates to restaurants when traveling as well, you can search all over the US.
Mypoints.com is a site where you register and shop. Anytime you are considering an online purchase, go to Mypoints and search the site to see if the retailer is listed. When you make your purchase through Mypoints you get points. Use your points for gift cards to places like Starbucks, Olive Garden, Walmart and Amazon. I have gotten several gift cards over the last few years — all for spending money I was going to spend anyway.
One more thing worth mentioning about online shopping, never pay full price if you don’t have to–always check for coupons. Sites like flamingoworld.com, retailmenot.com, and couponmountain.com all have coupon codes that offer deals on internet retailers, or just google for a coupon for the site you are shopping at. These sites have saved me money countless times. Happy Shopping and if you have any shopping tips please share!!!
On March 14th, 2008, I lost my very best friend, Jennifer. It was unexpected, she died of a Pulmonary Embolism caused by a clot (DVT). Those of us who knew her were left with a hole in our hearts and our lives that day. It is still hard for me to comprehend at times, even though it has been a year today. I miss her so much – a day does not go by that I do not think about her. This past year, so many times things in life would happen and the first thing I would want to do would be to pick up the phone and call Jenn. Then, of course, I’d realize that was not possible. Somewhere within I feel that Jenn knows these things I long to share with her, she is still with me, in my heart, that’s how it is when you love someone.
I met Jenn when she was a Senior in high school. We worked together in a pharmacy. I was pregnant with my first child and Jennifer was just about to enter college. I remember Jenn being very dedicated and focused on her work, even as a teenager, she had great respect for the responsibility of the welfare of others. This quality would be one she possessed throughout her career. Jenn went on to graduate from MCV and become a Pharmacist.
As time went by we become closer and we would get together on her college breaks and I would sometimes drive up to the “Burg”(the W&M term for Williamsburg), to visit her at college. Back at home, our favorite thing to do was to hang out at some of the restaurants at Waterside, on the Norfolk harbor, or down at the beach at the Duck Inn. She was the one person I could tell anything and she would never judge me. It didn’t matter how stupid the mistake or silly the idea—she would make me feel better about it. Jenn would be openly honest, she did not like to sugar coat things, but she would always convince me that no matter the problem there would be a way to work it out.
Jenn became attached to my daughter and my daughter was enamored with her. Jenn quickly became Aunt Jennifer. Jenn would not stand for the traditional “Miss” we southerners feel compelled to place in front of women’s names, and I refused for my 2 year old to call her by her first name. Aunt Jennifer fit and fit well. Jennifer was family, as I consider many of my friends to be. I have never been one to allow blood relations to dictate how I will feel about someone. I was a single mom raising a precious little girl and Jenn was there to be one of the voices of reason when things would get insane. Those were difficult but happy years and Jenn was there to help me through it.
Jenn introduced me to my husband, Jason, and to pay her back, I made her my Maid of Honor in our wedding. She was there with me at the birth of my son, and was there to say goodbye when I moved to the cold, Yankee badlands of Delaware. I missed her terribly, but we got together every time I went home to Virginia. Not long after the move, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Now anyone who knows my Mom, knows that she is a “tough broad” ( I leave out the old because I don’t want to get popped next time I see my mother). Jenn recognized this right off because she was a “tough broad” herself. It is very hard for me, being so far away from someone I love, especially in their time of need– it makes you feel as though you are helpless. Jenn would reassure me, she would check on Mom and let me know how it was going at the hospital. Being a Pharmacist, she would decipher the medical jargon and let me know reality of the situation. Most of all, she told me over and over, Mom will pull through. My Mom would face more cancer surgeries as the years passed and an open-heart bypass, and unfortunately my Father had a few health issues of his own. Each time, Jenn would be there, reassuring me, she would remind me “you know your parents are tougher than this disease, it’s going to be okay”! And thankfully, she was right.
Looking back now, it amazes me how different we were. Jenn was a career professional and I left the working world to become a stay at home mom. She loved her life as a single woman as I chose that of wife and mother. We never agreed on politics, at all. We would have debates for hours then just end it with “so where are we going to eat”. Those around us were amazed that we could disagree on so much and still remain close. Our characters and opinions were different, yet we complemented each other. Jenn thrived on diversity and was always up for a good challenge. Through our differences we learned to appreciate different perspectives, it strengthened our friendship all the more, and ultimately I believe we learned a little bit about ourselves.
Jenn thought it was so unfair that we could not hang out like we used to, so she declared that we needed girlfriend getaways. We decided to plan “girls only” trips in April and September, to celebrate our birthdays. We traveled to Atlantic City, Ocean City, Rehoboth Beach, Bethany Beach, Cape May, Nags Head, St Augustine, Ft Lauderdale, Miami, Key West, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Charleston, New Orleans, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Lancaster, Richmond, Washington DC, and Alexandria—some places more than once! Our last trip was to be to Bermuda, it was one of her most favorite places, I remember she used to say Bermuda is bermudiful! Sadly, Jenn passed before we were to go. One of the hardest things I ever had to do was call and cancel the trip. I almost broke down when agent asked why we were canceling and if we could reschedule. I am hoping to make it to Bermuda this year as a way of remembering Jenn. She had a great passion for travel and I developed a love for it as well. I plan to continue to post several of our trips in my “Travel” category. When she traveled, Jenn took it all in—the surroundings, the people, the food, everything. She wanted to experience all life had to offer. I am glad she lived life that way. Although her life was cut short, she experienced so many things, I am inspired in her approach to life.
To Jennifer, a friendship was to be treasured. She enjoyed socializing, and was always ready to listen. If you think about it, it is hard to find, someone to listen — I mean really listen. Listen so well, that they can hear things that you say and things that you don’t say. Jenn was this kind of friend. It never mattered what was going on, what time of day or night, what mattered to her was that she could be there for her friend. Happiness or sadness – she wanted to share it with you. Jennifer was truly a devoted friend.
I have so many wonderful memories that I shared with Jennifer. Two of them come to mind right away. One was from summer 2007. We were at Busch Gardens and they had just opened a new roller coaster called the Griffon. Now this roller coaster is no joke, and quite frankly as I have gotten older, I do not ride roller coasters. Jenn on the other hand is something of a roller coaster connoisseur The kids wanted me to ride, my brother, wanted me to ride, but I—the final voice of reason—did not want me to ride. Well, you guessed it — I rode the Griffon! It was awesome, and the amazing thing was Jenn was beside me, my kids, my brother, we were all seated in one row, and they were all cheering me on. It was a fantastic ride— and I am reasonably sure my last roller coaster ride. Like they always have been, Jenn was there, with my kids, my brother, all of them, there to calm my fears and to experience the excitement of the ride of a lifetime. It was definitely something I will never forget.
The last time I was with Jennifer was a Sunday morning. We were sprawled across the bed in her guest room, both still in our jammies, enjoying what Jenn termed as “cave time”. We were reading the paper, sipping our coffee, just enjoying chatting about life in general. I had spent the night at her place, affectionately known as “Hotel Norfolk” by myself, and many of Jenn’s friends. I remember thinking how great it felt, just to relax and enjoy the company of a good friend. Had I known it was my last time to be with her, I would have treasured the time even more.
Jennifer was a treasure, a true friend, one of my best friends. I learned so many things from her, experienced so many things I would have never considered on my own, she opened my mind and had a profound affect on my life. I consider myself truly blessed for having known her.
God Bless you Jennifer, I miss you.
Ever been to a Wegmans? If you have then you probably know how awesome they are. My daughter first told me about Wegmans. She has one down in Maryland near her college. Then I read a magazine article about Wegmans and I was impressed at their employee satisfaction ratings and most of all by the fact that Wegmans was hiring. Lets face it, don’t see alot of businesses doing that lately. So last weekend on the way home from PA, I convinced the hubby to go check it out. The closest one to us is in Downingtown, PA , about an hour away, so this would not be my grocery of choice, but boy would it be if it we lived closer! This place is like a Supercenter on steroids. Okay, maybe steroids is not the best word choice with baseball season about to open ( Go Phillies ), but Wegmans Rocks!! Everything you can imagine–coffee, sub, pizza, and burrito shops — with in-store dining. Three hot food bars (I loved the Asian food bar). Phenomenal fresh fruits and veggies, huge organic section, cheese section, 2 delis…the list goes on. I kept saying ” I want one…I want one” over and over as I pushed the cart through the store trying to take it all in. By far the this was the best grocery store I have ever been too. I would not recommend it for those easily lost or over-stimulated, and I would certainly suggest going on a day other than one when a foot of snow was predicted for that evening (which is what happened to us). Even so, the staff of this Wegmans was impressive, every register was open and I have waited longer in line at Walmart or my local grocery on a normal day. I want a Wegmans!
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