Hello everyone. I am off to North Carolina and the beach today. Before I leave I decided to post a short story I wrote a couple of days ago. It’s a true story based on a lesson my six year old taught me (she’s now 41). I hope you enjoy it. I will post again after I get back from my trip. Blessings to all.
I became a mother at the ripe old age of eighteen. I soon learned I knew nothing about raising a child. Three years later, I decided I needed two children to show off my child rearing abilities. I had a beautiful son and daughter.
My son, Allan, was the best boy. He loved to hunt, fish, and played Evil Kenivel on his bike. The trips to the hospital are another story. This story is about my little princess, Stephanie. She taught me an extremely valuable lesson about bluffing.
For some reason during her first year of school, Stephanie decided to stretch her independence. From a mother’s point of view, a six-year-old, in the first grade needs a great deal of motherly love and guidance.
This beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, little girl was a bit hard-headed. That came from her father’s side of the family, of course. I’d ask her to do something, and she would stand with her hands on her hips and tell me no. She got her tail busted a few times, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. (By the way, you have to remember, back in the 70’s, busting tail wasn’t considered abuse.) I had to think of a creative way to get my daughter to behave. I came up with the perfect idea.
When Stephanie misbehaved, I would explain to her I was sending her to a convent run by Nuns, who would make her behave. We weren’t Catholic, and I’m sure she didn’t have a clue of what a convent was. All she knew I was going to send her away from home and that was all she needed to behave. I had my well-behaved daughter back. That is until October.
One Thursday evening in October, my little angel reverted to an obstinate, hateful, child. She pushed me to my limit. You know they do learn at a remarkably early age what buttons to push to send you near to the breaking point and then back off. With my control being reached, I yelled, “All right, little girl, I have had it with you. Come Monday morning you will be enrolled at the convent.” Of course, I didn’t have any intention of taking her anywhere, much less the fact I wasn’t even sure there was a convent in Oklahoma.
Stephanie believed me, settled down, and began watching TV with her brother. It ended up a real,enjoyable evening, and not even problems going to bed. I patted myself on the back, one more time for controlling my daughter without having to bust her tail.
Friday morning, the kids got up without any problem, had breakfast and headed out the door to school. I headed to work. I was the Director of Nursing at a nursing home. My day was going well, that is until 1:00 PM and I heard an overhead page announcing a phone call for me.
“Hello”, this is Shirley. How can I help you?” I’m thinking it’s a doctor’s office calling with orders. That’s the usual calls I received.
“Shirley, this is Amanda Jenkins, Stephanie’s teacher.”
“Is Stephanie hurt? What’s wrong?” I asked. I felt panic.
“Oh, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to ask you to come by the school and sign Stephanie’s transfer papers.”
“What? She’s not transferring anywhere.” I had forgotten about the night before.
“Stephanie came to me this afternoon and turned her books in. She said you were transferring her from here today, and she would start on Monday at another school.”
My darling called my bluff. I had to explain to the teacher what happened. I didn’t think she was going to stop laughing. I felt like an idiot. I never bluffed my daughter again. She taught me a good lesson about bluffing. Don’t do it unless you’re willing to follow through and accept the consequences. My consequences were, I had to eat crow.
Hello everyone. I hope all are well today. I’m staying close to the airconditioning with this 112 degree heat today. We need rain here in Oklahoma as well as surrounding states. Put your prayer caps on and place it before God. Besides that I have a question concerning your Spam folder. Do you consider everything that goes to spam as bad? When I read some of it, it sounds sincere. I’ve been deleting all of it without responding. Please let me know what you do with your spam.
Since I’m so slow with my next chapter of Sally’s Warning, I am posting a short story called Be Care of What You ask. As I have learned personally, you may not really want it. Enjoy
Be Careful of What You Want
Rebecca Jenkins gets off the bus and begins her block long walk, grumbling with every step.I don’t know why that had to be in the tallest building in Atlanta. I don’t like elevators and I sure don’t like heights. The gynecologist is on the fiftieth floor of the Bank of America (BOA) Building. I don’t know why he didn’t go to the top since it’s only fifty-five floors to start with.
Finally arriving at the BOA building, she goes though one set of six revolving doors. The temperature outside is in the upper nineties, so getting through those rotating doors into the lobby felt like heaven. Her natural curly, chestnut colored, hair is fuzzy because of the high humidity. Looking around the lobby, she spots the bank of elevators. I didn’t know one building could have this many elevators.
She pushes the up button on the elevator and stands back to see which door might open. Five other people are standing, waiting for an elevator. Rebecca always thought herself good at sizing people up. I wish I had more time to talk to these people and find out if my first thoughts of everyone are accurate. Well at least right now, I know there’s a nun in the group. She’s hard to miss in that black habit, Sally thought.
The elevator bell goes off and all six of the people began looking at the arrows at the top of the elevators to determine which one is ground level. The door to the middle elevator on the right side opens and the six walk on with the door closing behind them. Sally stood next to the buttons, so she asks what floor the other want. The Nun and a teenage girl say fifty and a woman holding a white tip cane whispers, “Forty-five, please.” The two men are going to fifty-three and fifty-five.
The elevator begins its climb with a bell sounding at every floor. Sally feels her anxiety building as the elevator climbs. I should be grateful this isn’t one of those glass elevators that go up the outside of the building. I know I couldn’t handle that kind at all. The silence is thick in the elevator. Everyone has their head down, but raises it with each ding of the bell.
The elevator ding sounds at the thirty-eighth floor and continues climbing. The elevator begins to shake and stops. “What happened?” Rebecca asks.
The mousy looking man with the black rimmed glasses begins talking “I can’t believe this shit. Excuse me, Sister. for my language. This isn’t acceptable. Lady, get on the emergency phone and get us some help. I have to pick up my son’s medication at his doctor’s office. They close at 4:30 pm.”
The nun speaks up, “Everyone please try to stay calm. I know we’ll be getting help very soon.”
“Did God tell you that information, Sister?” The teenage girl says in a sarcastic tone.
“Not this time, but he’s never failed me, so I’m not worried.”
Rebecca backs into the right front corner of the elevator. Gosh, I hope this thing hangs tight. At least we have a light. It would be completely terrifying if it were totally dark inside this thing.
The others don’t notice that she’s hung the phone up, except the good looking man that looks so angry. “Hey, what did they say? When will they get us out of here?” The good-looking man asks Rebecca.
“No one answers the phone, sir. I’ll try again in a couple of minutes.”
“Here, let me try”, the mousey man says. He pushs Rebecca aside and picks up the phone. It rang and rang, with no answer on the other end. He slams the receiver back onto the hook. “What a crock of shit this is, first we have a jacked up elevator and now no one will answer the emergency phone.”
“Let’s please stay calm,” the sister says. “Why don’t we talk and tell each other some details about ourselves and time will pass a little faster.” Everyone looks at her as if she no longer has good sense. “I’ll start. My name is Sister Margaret. I am with the Sisters of the Rosary, at Saint Michaels Convent. I have been a nun for almost twenty-six years. I certainly never thought I’d be in an elevator this afternoon with five other people. Okay, young lady, why don’t you take your turn.”
The teenager looks at Sister Margaret, “Okay, Sister, you got it. My name is Angie and I’m fifteen years old. God ain’t done one thing for me, so he’s done nothing but let me down.”
“Oh Angie, you just can’t see what he’s done for you, but I assure you he loves you and is with you every step you take,” Sister Margaret says.
“Is that a fact, Sister? Then I guess he was with me the night those three thugs raped me and left me for dead. In addition, to top that off, now I’m carrying a bastard baby. I’m sure God was right there with me the whole time.”
You can hear everyone suck in their breath when she speaks. Sister Margaret, gets down on the floor next to the young girl and takes hold of her hands. “I’m so sorry, Angie. I don’t know why bad things happen to good people, but they do. I know you’re angry at the world right now, but know I will help you any way I can. What about your parents, how do they feel?”
“That’s another good thing. My parents are dead. I live in the home for Girls on Piedmont. Yep, I can sure see where God is with me every step. Get up, Sister, and don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Sister Margaret continues to hold Angie’s hands. “Remember, I will help you. You don’t have to go through this alone. In fact, the convent has a very nice home for unwed mothers. It is a big improvement over the state run home on Piedmont. Just think about it and let me know when we get off the elevator.”
Letting go of Angie’s hands she stands and then bends over and touches Angie’s hair. As soon as Sister Margaret’s hand strokes her hair, Angie begins to cry. Tears run down her cheeks, falling onto her pink blouse.
Everyone stands quietly for the next five minutes while Angie cries.
“I hope you feel better, dear, now that you’ve cried. It always helps me,” says the woman with the white tipped cane.
“When are they going to fix this elevator? I’ve only got twenty minutes to get to my son’s doctor.” The mousy little man shouts out. Sister Margaret looks at him and asks, “Why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself.”
The mousy little man is shaking, agitated, and seems to have problems standing still. When he first begins to speak, you can hear his voice shaking. “Ah, my name is Arthur, and I work in this building for BOA as an accountant. I’m married with a six year old son who has been diagnosed with ADHD. That’s the reason I’ve got to get to the doctor’s office.”
“Mister, you look like you’re strung out. Are you sure you not taking your son’s drug.” Angie looks him straight in the eyes. “Your eyes are even twitching. Don’t bother lying, because I can recognize the symptoms. A couple of girls at the home are always strung out on something.”
“Shut your mouth you little bitch! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what you think,” Angie says.
“Please tell us more, Arthur,” Sister Margaret says.
“I don’t have anything else to say. I’m going to try this phone again. Maybe they’ll answer this time.” He picked up the phone, but still no answer. He slams the receiver down again, and begins screaming help.
The good-looking man steps over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. Leaning in, he whispers in
Arthur’s ear. Author immediately backs up into the corner and nothing moves except his quivering eyes
The good-looking man steps back. “Since I have everyone’s attention, why don’t I tell you about me? My name is Stephen Taylor, and I’m a Federal Supreme Court Justice taking a few days off to take care of some business. I’m married right now, but won’t be for long. I now have evidence my wife of twenty years is having an affair with my best friend.”
Sister Margaret spoke up. “Mr. Taylor, I’m so sorry for your troubles. I know it has to be hard on you right now, but don’t be too hasty in what you do. Give yourself some time to cool down before you make any decisions. I’ll pray for you and your wife.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sister. I can use all the prayer I can get. I’m afraid my wife has already made my decision for me. She left for Vegas this morning for a quickie divorce and plans to marry Martin as soon as possible.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but you both will still get my prayers.”
The woman with the white-tip cane spoke up. “I guess I can take my turn now. My name is Candy Cross. As you can see, I’m blind and have been since birth. I was very angry about my blindness for a few of my teen years, but I got over that. Actually, I’m doing good. I own my own braille printing business and do very well. I’m not married and I do live on my own not too far from here. I’ve got a good life.”
Everyone speaks their congratulations, except Arthur. He’s still standing in the corner twitching. Then it is Rebecca’s turn.
“Hi, my name is Rebecca and I don’t like tall buildings or elevators, but here I am. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m working on my master’s degree in psychology. My home is in Lubbock, Texas, but I’ve been here for almost five years. I have to tell you that before I got on this elevator, I wished I’d had more time to spend with you, so I could find out about you. It’s my thing to try and figure people out. You surprised me, except for Sister Margaret. I’ve learned a little about each of you and a lot about myself. I don’t read people as well as I thought,and also be careful for what you ask for, because you might get it.”
The elevator lights flicker and they feel the elevator start down the shaft. Everyone cheers and pats each other’s back. They know their rescue is happening.
English: Cong, Co. Mayo: ‘The Quiet Man’ Cottage. This is the actual cottage used in the film, ‘THE QUIET MAN’, starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I am going to start out with the other things in today’s blog. In my last post I wrote about my squatter, ED. I want to give you an update. Ed has finally got the message he doesn’t live here anymore. A friend of his helped move him out and put his stuff in storage. It took a week after that for him to stop coming to the house and just walking in. We finally got the police involved and social services. He told the police how mad he was about us “taking his mailbox down.” I feel so bad for Ed, but there is nothing I can do.
My house is all painted and it looks good. My furniture will be arriving from Texas this next week. I’ll be so glad to have my “things about me, again.” I think that line came from a John Wayne Movie. Do you know which one? I will post it at the end of the blog.
I was reading this morning about how the Catholic Bishops were talking about women and birth control. First of all let me tell you, I am Catholic, not a cradle one, but converted. If I’m asked what religion I am I tell them I am a Pentecostal Catholic. So I do have some different view from the church.
I very much believe in birth-control for women. I do believe the bible is the inspired word of God, but I know it was written by men of the early church, who’s world was nothing like ours. Men ruled at that time and still feel they have to now (In the church). I am not a subservient woman, and I believe I have the same rights as any man. I may not have the same strengths but I do have different ones. I believe that any woman should be able to choose to use birth control.
Oh yes, the answer to the John Wayne question is “The Quiet Man.” When Maureen O’Hara was giving John Wayne a good talking to about her dowry, she told him of having her things about her. Did you guess it right? Until next time stay safe and happy.
This nation was built with the help of immigrants from all over the world. I agree there needs to be some changes in our immigration laws, but I think we should be treating everyone as we would want to be treated. We have big problems in the justice and immigration systems in this country. They will have to answer for what they do, as will each one of us.
I believe that amnesty should be given to all who are in this country now and a way to be found to stop the flow into the country. I know that’s easier said than done. I also believe we should take care of our own but also help others in need.
No matter what political party someone belongs to, tolerance of something different has to become the norm. This country has done a very bad job at tolerance, but it is improving from what it was 40-50 years ago. I am better than my parents and my children are better than I am in accepting differences. My hopes and prayer is that improvement will continue to take place in the future.