I WILL CONTINUE TO WRITE

THIS.

This article I can SO IDENTIFY WITH, posted on a FB Page, is why I will never be silent.

(https://medium.com/@davidvienna/the-teacher-everyone-feared-taught-me-to-fight-back-321d7bb5937e)

People can chastise me. People can scream at me. People can tell me, "YOU do NOT get to talk!". People can avoid me. People can abandon me.

But people cannot silence me.

I.W.I.L.L.C.O.N.T.I.N.U.E.T.O.W.R.I.T.E.

A diary kept me sane in a childhood home that was crazy.

I never "feared a teacher" - I never feared anyone: if anything, people feared me ... and I made sure they were kept on their toes. LOL. I could't afford not to be tough growing up.

High School teachers, Mrs. Borg & Mrs. Irving, both encouraged me to continue with my witty and sarcastic literary assignments - most of my handed in assignments focused on the Vietnam War at the time (my choice of writing, not the teachers'); I Aced the classes. Because they allowed me to be my lovable witty and sarcastic self (and I think they knew my home situation ... small town, and all), their classes were the only classes I actually attended. They knew my writing was keeping me grounded. But, Mrs. Irving KNEW me - she saw into my soul. When I married before my Senior year started, and immediately got pregnant my 'honeymoon week', she told me, "Val, don't drop out of school. I'm starting a Night Course Class in my class twice a week: come! I'm signing you up. Come." I went. When she saw Bob walking me to class, she was glad to see I chose well in love. She and Bob knew each other - small town. I did well in her course, and graduated with a bona fide Graduation Diploma. It was mailed to me; I was heavily pregnant by then and didn't want to chance going into labor crossing the stage to receive it. But, every time I look at that diploma, I think of the teacher that KNEW me, and liked me enough to help me succeed.

Bob & Mrs. Irving grew me up.

A journal kept me focused when I was a young wife and mother.

Blogging helped me share my life for 16 years (grandparenting/parenting, home education, gardening, raising/butchering chickens, several homes renovations, life with a wolf - a real 4-legged wolf, not just my Bob. LOL, road trips, 2nd time around grandparenting) - Blogging helped me hold it together when my world was shaken in 2018, and totally torpedoed in 2019.

I write because life continues to give me assignments I'd rather not have to endure.

I write because it is liberating.

LIVING WITH GHOSTS

This morning I went to my Castle Rock exercise class again; on my way over the cross road from here to there, I came upon a wreck site up Delameter Road – the Castle Rock side of the Mink/Chicken farm. The mink had been gone for a while when Bob and I started dating, but Bob remembered them: so, they hadn’t been replaced by the chickens that long ago, when we were driving this back road in 1974, and Bob was telling me about the mink. I don’t think there are any chickens there anymore, either, because the place looks pretty deserted.

When I made Castle Rock, and turned onto the bridge that takes me into town, I was shouting ‘hallelujah! The bridge still shakes the liver up with it’s wash-board surface, but at least the land-mine-holes have been attended to.

After exercise, I checked the mail on the way home; and touched down briefly before running into our town to pay Xfinity (and had them remove the bill notification from my email account – I don’t need that reminder; I don’t want that popping up), P.U.D. (just because I was downtown and it needed to be paid anyway), and AT&T (and had to deal with half an hour of confusing and infuriating double-talk). It may be a sin to hate, but I really do HATE AT&T. Thank Elohim, forgiveness in unlimited … because when I have to deal with AT&T, I need to ask forgiveness over and over, and over again.

Bills paid, I decided to stop in at Country Village Health Store, and buy some more Oregano Oil – and pick up some Stress Shield vitamins (I hope they work); Country Village is just up the street a pace, and around the corner from AT&T. The Stress-Shield is needed to keep dealing with the continual AT&T double-talk bullshit.

When I arrived at Country Village, it looked like everyone for miles around decided today was the day they needed to pick something up too. 

I snapped up a parking spot as soon as it was vacated – and some crazy bitch old bat (okay, maybe my age – but for sure bat-shit crazy) played the ‘dare-me’ chicken game with her car as I was leaving the parking lot later on. She could have just drove into the spot she wanted … I was leaving and not interested in the spot she had her eye on … but she decided to play games with her car, and her ego-trip mindset, instead: if I moved forward; she aggressively moved forward, and nudged her car at more of an angle to the spot she coveted; if I stopped – she stopped. It was stupid. I had to count to 10: SEVERAL TIMES. When she finally stopped showing her ass, and actually drove into the spot – all I could do was wonder how many joints she had smoked already, and shake my head and think, ‘Yeah: it’s great to live in a stoner state.’

People like her are WHY I DON’T DRIVE IN PORTLAND OR SEATTLE.

At this point, with AT&T’s nonsense still echoing … and the crazy-lady car game – my head was throbbing; and my stomach was growling. It was about 12:30’noon, and I hadn’t eaten anything yet – I left the house early, and I am not a breakfast person; can’t eat anything before noon. Stress-induced acid bubbling on an empty stomach needs quick relief. So, I nipped into the Masthead parking lot: it was reflex. It was the closest restaurant.

For a few minutes I just sat with the engine still running, looking at the building, and debating with myself if I was ready to do this.

The last time I ate at the Masthead was with Bob in either April or May of 2018. There are a lot of memories associated with the restaurant. I sat. I thought, ‘Can I do this?’ There was only one way to find out: I got out of the car.

Cheese Burger with avocado, and Sweet Potato Fries.

I know it sounds silly to people that I have avoided places Bob and I used to hang out frequently together, but all these places knew Bob & I as the ‘bobbsey twins’ – we went e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.t.o.g.e.t.h.e.r. Except for work. These local people knew us. Our whole life together; dating months and married years. To go into these places now, and hear them ask me, “Are you alone”? And look around me to see if Bob will be following … hurts my heart; and I feel strange, saying, “I am.” Then, of course, they ask, “How’s Bob?” And I have to tell them that "he is no longer with me – he’s in Heaven now.”

It’s hard.

It’s hard to get back into the main-stream as a single woman, when for 3/4^th’s of my life I’ve been part of a couple. A well-known couple. I know how to be a couple; I forgot how to be a solitary solo lobo. It will take time to be comfortable in that role.

I did pretty good in there: I didn’t choke on my ‘burger, and I didn’t soak my fries with salty tears.

I am healing – reconciling my past with my present.

Lunch tab paid, and back in the car, I ended up looking directly at Bruno’s Pizza place through the windshield … and averting my eyes, I ended up staring at the car lot across the thoroughfare: a good memory happened there; I was still a bride, and Stacey was about 7 months old – she was bundled up in her stroller against the Christmas chill that year.

Bob & I met Bruno on our 2nd date, in April of 1974. Bob loved pizza. Pizza and hot dogs: he could've lived his whole life on those things! Anyway, we met Bruno when he was drawing draft beers at Pietro's Pizza Place the other side of Longview. We started getting to know each other all the way around, and eventually we became such close friends that as soon as Bruno saw us coming through the Pizza parlor door, he'd have our lagers waiting for us on the counter while we placed our pizza order. Soon we were sharing baby pictures - ours and his. When he left Pietro's to open his own pizza parlor, we naturally followed and ate at his place, 'Bruno's Pizza'. he always had time to sit and jaw with us when we were in town. We watched each other's children growing up, as he baked our pizzas and we ate them.

Bruno is retired now.

And Bob lives beyond the clouds.

Things have changed ...

Ready to leave the downtown triangle, revolving around the Triangle Mall area (Three Rivers Mall now) with its ghost memories from the past, I pushed the ignition button, buckled up, and headed the car for home.

Walking through my own door, I was really ready to kick my shoes off and relax, but there were a few things I had to do first. One, was to put my medicinal herbs and minerals away:

The second thing was to balance the checkbook.

While jotting down the AT&T payment notation, I unfolded the direct-dial number the salesgirl at the downtown Office had given me to call an AT&T rep to have the ipad removed and my account updated. So, I called the number and made my request. I found out that the ipad notebook was paid off the first of February – so I had that cut from my account; I don’t have the ipad anymore. Cutting the ipad caused my ‘new account’ to become ‘newer’ … and that is what caused the last AT&T snafu with ensuing maddening frustrations that lasted 11 fricking months!

I was not happy to be told that dropping the ipad would automatically move me “to a new Plan”. F#%@! And, of course, NO ONE KNOWS the bottom-line billing costs because of “pro-rating issues”. All I wanted was a simple deduction of a ball-park billing figure. What I got was text-book quotes from a college kid in a dorm room somewhere, where a roached joint is no doubt smoldering in a make-do ashtray. She parroted text-book double-talk about a pro-rated billing that takes place from the 24^th of February to the 14^th of March, on top of the new billing rate which is also due on the 14^th of March with accumulated taxes added to all that, NONE which she couldn’t explain IN PLAIN ENGLISH.

She ended her litany with a cherry, “I hope I’ve explained this to you satisfactorily!” I said, “No, actually, you haven’t – but that seems to be standard rhetoric with AT&T." She seemed confused. She said, “What don’t you understand, ma’am? I’ve explained it to you.” I said, “Excuse me, but you sound about 23 – I am 63: I do not understand your textbook spiel: you are dealing in book time – I deal in real time. Nothing you ‘explained’ to me sounds remotely understandable. Instead, it sounds like double-talk bullshit to me … which is what it is. What I ‘understand’ is that once again, AT&T is shafting me and expecting me to ‘understand’ what is not understandable. I hope I didn’t just get screwed over.” I was nice in tone, but I was clearly pissed off. There was a heartbeat of silence. She said, “I can try again …” I said, “It wouldn’t matter. You’d quote the same textbook litany; and I still won’t understand a word of it. Look – thank you for your time. Have a nice remainder of your day.”

So, I am still dealing with ghosts of AT&T screw-ups I am hoping and praying will not be a repeat of the past 11 months, this time around.

I am so tired of being shafted by AT&T.

I feel a headache coming on …

I am definitely going to take a stress shield vitamin tonight when I go to bed – that way the beneficial minerals stay in my body, doing their stuff. Hopefully I’ll wake up tomorrow morning full of sunshine and dancing through the day on twinkletoes ;-)