When they're born, all you want is for them to be healthy and to have ten toes and fingers. As they grow older, you have a few more hopes and dreams. We want our children to succeed where we may have failed, to make great grades, go to college, find a great career, get married, and live happily ever after. I think that is everyone's dream for their children.
Of course, not everyone is destined to go to college and even get married but still I think most parents dream of their children throwing their graduation cap into the air and walking their daughter down the aisle. Parents want their children to fly gloriously from the nest, soar high above the world, and succeed. Although it may be wrong, many parents want to live vicariously through their children, to be young again, to see them take a different path, and to share in their success. Whether wanting to live vicariously or just wanting to see your children do better than prior generations, it pains a parent greatly when things go awry.
When Lauren was just a toddler, we noticed that she blinked her eyes a lot but never really thought there was a problem. Later, in elementary school, she began what we called "huffing." Basically, she would exhale several short quick bursts of air. One of her teachers mentioned it to us thinking that she might have a respiratory issue so, of course, we made an appointment to see her pediatrician. Another doctor later and we had a diagnosis of Tourette Syndrome and her "tic" was explained to us.
It's amazing how you blame yourself and suffer so greatly when your child has a basically incurable condition that could worsen as they age. We tortured ourselves wondering which one of us passed along this condition and how it might effect our perfect little girl's life. After a lot of poring over medical information on the net, I realized that I had tics even more complex than my daughters and that I was probably the one that passed it along. I never realized that my penchant for walking away from a conversation repeating what was just said was a tic. They recommended that we medicate her and so we did for years. She gained a lot of weight and was somewhat lethargic but the symptoms were greatly reduced.
She eventually wanted to quit taking the medicine and, although, we feared that adolescence would accelerate or even cause the development of more complex tics, our fears were unfounded. They never worsened nor abated. Teenage rebellion, criminal male friends, and recreational drugs soon became our main fears. Tourette's paled in comparison.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Losing My Father
My dad was a simple man. He didn't have much of a traditional classroom education. He never graduated from high school but he was wise. Life taught him everything that he needed to know and his studies began early. His own father passed away at the age of 47 making him the head of the family taking care of his mother and his little brother. He married my mom, had a family, and life was a bit of a struggle.
Except for a few years driving a truck, my dad spent his life toiling in the soil of Madison County. Farming was passed down by his father and it was the only life that my dad truly knew. It was an occupation that he loved except during the fourteen hour days of picking cotton each fall when he threatened to take up sweeping floors for a living. He loved farming but he didn't want to pass it on encouraging us to go to college or learn a trade and we did. It took me 21 years but I finished my Bachelors degree a few years ago. It was the first in our family and dad proudly began greeting me as "The Professor" when I came through the door.
My father was a good man but he wasn't Ward Cleaver. He was the strong and silent John Wayne type. He wasn't very good at expressing himself and never spoke much of his own childhood. He was a rather hard man when we were young. The rod certainly wasn't spared at our house but I'm sure that we needed it. He taught us the value of hard work and respect. I think time and three little grand daughters softened his heart. He still wasn't much of a conversationalist about personal matters but he never failed to tell me he loved me anytime that we talked.
I dropped by my parent's house on my way home from work the day before his heart attack last July. I thought dad was just tired at the time. My mom did too and he certainly wasn't going to admit that he didn't feel well. He hardly ever did. I was espousing on my mechanical skills and my new job during our last conversation. He was proud of me and I of him.
I watched dad struggle to support us for years without truly appreciating the sacrifices that he endured to raise me and my siblings. It took many years and raising a daughter of my own to understand my dad's life, to understand the hard work and the sacrifice that he endured to take care of our family. He gave us opportunities in life that he never had. He taught us well and then he set us free to find our way in the world and I'll always love him for it.
Except for a few years driving a truck, my dad spent his life toiling in the soil of Madison County. Farming was passed down by his father and it was the only life that my dad truly knew. It was an occupation that he loved except during the fourteen hour days of picking cotton each fall when he threatened to take up sweeping floors for a living. He loved farming but he didn't want to pass it on encouraging us to go to college or learn a trade and we did. It took me 21 years but I finished my Bachelors degree a few years ago. It was the first in our family and dad proudly began greeting me as "The Professor" when I came through the door.
My father was a good man but he wasn't Ward Cleaver. He was the strong and silent John Wayne type. He wasn't very good at expressing himself and never spoke much of his own childhood. He was a rather hard man when we were young. The rod certainly wasn't spared at our house but I'm sure that we needed it. He taught us the value of hard work and respect. I think time and three little grand daughters softened his heart. He still wasn't much of a conversationalist about personal matters but he never failed to tell me he loved me anytime that we talked.
I dropped by my parent's house on my way home from work the day before his heart attack last July. I thought dad was just tired at the time. My mom did too and he certainly wasn't going to admit that he didn't feel well. He hardly ever did. I was espousing on my mechanical skills and my new job during our last conversation. He was proud of me and I of him.
I watched dad struggle to support us for years without truly appreciating the sacrifices that he endured to raise me and my siblings. It took many years and raising a daughter of my own to understand my dad's life, to understand the hard work and the sacrifice that he endured to take care of our family. He gave us opportunities in life that he never had. He taught us well and then he set us free to find our way in the world and I'll always love him for it.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Lunch at Ryans
My grandfather retired from work years ago but not from going to town, the town in question being Huntsville. For an elderly couple that didn't spend any money, they went shopping a lot, mostly at Big Lots and similar stores and the all mighty Goodwill store where my grandfather satisfies his unique fetish of buying old, mostly useless, consumer grade film cameras. $2 purchases that he justifies by claiming that the batteries themselves cost at least $6 but that story is for another time.
My grandmother suffered from a form of dementia the last few years of her life. I'm not sure that she recognized me nor my mother at all but my grandfather seemed to take it in stride. She had some interesting hallucinations and once had the garbage man call the police but was mostly a very happy confused person. Her condition didn't slow down the trips to town. It may even have inspired more of them as my grandfather tried to keep her mind occupied and perhaps distract himself from the situation.
For years, my grandparents met my uncle at Ryans every Wednesday for lunch. I tried my best to see them any chance I got and lunch at Ryans seemed to be the only time besides holidays. Occasionally, I made it over there to meet them promptly at 11:00 AM, the offical time for lunch in the Kilpatrick family. I heard my grandmother's voice for the last time at Ryans.
She was smiling and happily speaking to everyone around her. I'm sure the regulars there knew of her condition. She was happy to see me and always mentioned how long it had been, sometimes months but often years by her time table. She believed that they traveled between two houses, their little home in Gurley of more than forty years and what we believed was her parent's home which might have seemed normal to others until she wondered aloud how her cats made their way between the houses, concerned about their travels. My uncle told her not to worry. They went cross country and avoided the roads. She laughed and seemed satisfied with that explanation.
My grandfather couldn't wake her from her nap that Friday night. A stroke had robbed her of her voice, and after hanging on for a few weeks, her life. I miss my grandmother. I hurt for my grandfather.
My grandmother suffered from a form of dementia the last few years of her life. I'm not sure that she recognized me nor my mother at all but my grandfather seemed to take it in stride. She had some interesting hallucinations and once had the garbage man call the police but was mostly a very happy confused person. Her condition didn't slow down the trips to town. It may even have inspired more of them as my grandfather tried to keep her mind occupied and perhaps distract himself from the situation.
For years, my grandparents met my uncle at Ryans every Wednesday for lunch. I tried my best to see them any chance I got and lunch at Ryans seemed to be the only time besides holidays. Occasionally, I made it over there to meet them promptly at 11:00 AM, the offical time for lunch in the Kilpatrick family. I heard my grandmother's voice for the last time at Ryans.
She was smiling and happily speaking to everyone around her. I'm sure the regulars there knew of her condition. She was happy to see me and always mentioned how long it had been, sometimes months but often years by her time table. She believed that they traveled between two houses, their little home in Gurley of more than forty years and what we believed was her parent's home which might have seemed normal to others until she wondered aloud how her cats made their way between the houses, concerned about their travels. My uncle told her not to worry. They went cross country and avoided the roads. She laughed and seemed satisfied with that explanation.
My grandfather couldn't wake her from her nap that Friday night. A stroke had robbed her of her voice, and after hanging on for a few weeks, her life. I miss my grandmother. I hurt for my grandfather.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Long Lost Resume Nets Interview?
The wind was gusting at 25+ mph and the rain was coming down sideways when my cellphone rang the other day. It was a Redstone number so I assumed it was job related. It was... just not my job. On the other end was a gentleman wanting to discuss a job opportunity with me. At the moment, I was just trying to stay dry but I told him to email the details and I'll entertain his offer.
The responding email was a little light on details but the job was a dedicated support position on Redstone, similar to my current position, and I should meet them at a nearby coffee shop on my lunch break. Sure, why not? Who knows? Could be a great opportunity. I shot back an email asking how they had received my resume since I hadn't sent out any since November of 2009 when Knology took over the reins at PCL and I didn't remember sending anything to this company at all but received no reply.
Angel's Coffee Shop is your typical coffee shop. It's located on S. Parkway near Martin Rd., only about five minutes from my current office. I arrived about fifteen minutes early and took a seat in the corner where I could observe four men that I suspected of being with the company in question conducting an apparent interview. A few moments later, another man came in, ordered a coffee, and asked if I was Michael Ray. That's an affirmative and our conversation began and he was soon joined by the senior manager at the other table.
The resume that was produced was older than I imagined! After I graduated in December 2008, I sent out a few resumes and I believe I know the path this one followed. My father-in-law worked for a contractor that provided support on the test ranges and I did talk to a contact there but nothing was available in my field. Three years later, I get a call! Wow. Unfortunately, I'm a bit over qualified for the advertised position. My resume was a bit "dumbed down" and they weren't sure that they could authorize a paycheck in my range but they were interested so we're talking. Interesting, huh?
The responding email was a little light on details but the job was a dedicated support position on Redstone, similar to my current position, and I should meet them at a nearby coffee shop on my lunch break. Sure, why not? Who knows? Could be a great opportunity. I shot back an email asking how they had received my resume since I hadn't sent out any since November of 2009 when Knology took over the reins at PCL and I didn't remember sending anything to this company at all but received no reply.
Angel's Coffee Shop is your typical coffee shop. It's located on S. Parkway near Martin Rd., only about five minutes from my current office. I arrived about fifteen minutes early and took a seat in the corner where I could observe four men that I suspected of being with the company in question conducting an apparent interview. A few moments later, another man came in, ordered a coffee, and asked if I was Michael Ray. That's an affirmative and our conversation began and he was soon joined by the senior manager at the other table.
The resume that was produced was older than I imagined! After I graduated in December 2008, I sent out a few resumes and I believe I know the path this one followed. My father-in-law worked for a contractor that provided support on the test ranges and I did talk to a contact there but nothing was available in my field. Three years later, I get a call! Wow. Unfortunately, I'm a bit over qualified for the advertised position. My resume was a bit "dumbed down" and they weren't sure that they could authorize a paycheck in my range but they were interested so we're talking. Interesting, huh?
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