1 February 2010
With all 3 kids now sick, my big planned outing to EDD’s career center was a bust. Yet another long story. J- had stayed the night and offered to take time off of work to watch the kids so I could still get over there. I was nearly out of gas, but with the gift cards Bert C- had given me, I didn’t think that too much trouble. Until of course, I got to the gas station. The first card was declined, it was the same one as last night. I tried the second and its was declined, I went in to the kiosk, the cashier tried it and it was declined again.
I then went to a 7-11, knowing that they seemed more towards gift cards as they sell the things. The same thing occurred. I went back home, thinking I needed to somehow activate them online to get them to work for gas pumps. I tired the lowest card, a 25 dollar one, which at this point had been declined twice. First yesterday at the store, then this morning at the gas station. Once registered, it had a balance of roughly 8 dollars. What the? I looked at the transactions. Although the store terminal had told me it had been declined, the transaction had been authorized leaving a balance of 8 dollars. I moved onto the second card, a $50 balance. After registering, I discovered a balance of 0 dollars. My heart sank. The transactions? The one at te store, and a second at the gas station taking the remainder of the balance. The gas station. It told me it was declined, and I never even put the nozzle into the gas tank. On top of that, the same charge at the grocery store was on 2 different cards.
I felt scammed yet again. Worse, I felt I had just pissed away a good friend’s generosity. And I was still on empty. Of course, there are dispute measure which I have started up, but of course they are required to be snail mailed. Its not the first time. I got an ebay gift card for Christmas, but I can’t use it as it requires a paypal account. I actually have one, but I currently do not have a bank account connected to it. Thus to use the ebay card, I have to have a bank account and paypal. Between the two visa cards and ebay card, I had $100 dollars in theory. I had spent 17 dollars on groceries and the rest was unusable or locked up.
All this before 9 in the morning.
I had one last chance as by this point, I had driven enough that I was worried about running out of gas. A friend had sent me a personal check to cover some postage back in November. I didn’t want to cash it. Luckily, my check-cashing location took pity on me and I had 20 dollars to put in the tank. Luckily a gas station was across the street.
Ive been trying to figure out if Im doing something wrong, if Im missing some key element of understanding life. But it seems as the moment there is some glimmer of hope, I wind up screwed. Ive been screwed by EDD for the last month, screwed by gift cards, dealing with combative neighbors, cats who are intent on eating every scrap of food left out, and screwed by single men who were only looking out for their own selfish needs.
I want to blame someone else. But realistically, I cant. I made a wrong turn somewhere in life and that is my responsibility. By mid-morning I was back home. I’ll get to EDD Wednesday. The kids are bad off enough that I need to anticipate them being sick thru at least tomorrow.
On getting home, I made the call to my uncle to get this job opportunity in progress. Apparently, he has developed some hand-made firefighting apparel that seems to be taking off and he is finding himself a bit overwhelmed by demand. If things look up, I may have to travel up there for a weekend of training, put gear together and I can starting making them at home. But the phone call put me into motion, putting my head down. I dragged my aging laptop out to the dining area at least to be able to be responsive to the kids and not holed up in by bedroom.
J- departed to get at least a half day’s work in, before heading to her second job. Between her working so hard, and my problems with finances, my attitudes have been changing. There is still a husband aspect to me that wants her to get what she wants. Additionally, I’m feeling I have to do what I can for the girls. The thought of getting a deck position somewhere means leaving them with her. I can live with that now it seems. Them being taken care of financially would certainly be worth it all.
I started plodding through craigslist, several document management jobs were new in the past few days. To my surprise, they all involved engineering/architectural firms. To a degree, that’s my forte, but after a year away from the work, I know Im falling behind quickly with developing software and practices. Still, three resumes out.
While waiting for Acrobat to convert my resumes into pdf documents, I finished the resume for the Grays Harbor Historical Seaport, which operates the Lady Washington and Hawaiian Chieftain. I emailed Capt W- on the off-chance he could provide a letter of recommendation. A friend suggested waiting for that then emailing all the app material at one time. I think I will wait a day, if I don’t hear back from him, I’ll go ahead and ship things off.
While reviewing my resume, I glanced at my archaeology background. After nearly a decade, I searched up my old employer Brian F. Smith & Associates. They had available field tech positions available at least on their website. They seem to be servicing Riverside and Orange counties now. As a field tech, I could simply dig levels, CRM work is vastly different from the dental-pick excavation often seen on tv. Realistically, archaeology is a thing of the past, but I could dig a square hole. On the off chance, I emailed a resume, then wondered if having a reference on my resume to the very person I was emailing it to was a kosher thing to do. We will see.
http://www.brianfsmithandassociates.com/index.html
With the Gray’s Harbor app filled out, I set about scanning it so I could email it. WHile the scanner was doing its thing, I opened notepad and started jotting down mental notes of what I had done and needed to do. And I kept writing. With each word, my mental state seemed alleviated and the next thing I knew, the entire frustration of Friday and Saturday had turned into a blog. I posted it.
The mail came. A notice from EDD stated I now had a claim. I decided to give them a day to see if a check will appear. Im sure if it doesn’t and I call them, I’ll get a completely different story on my claim status. By lunch, the gift card/gas debacle, 4 resumes were out, one ready to go, a job contact with my uncle called for a break. I began uploading my photos from Sunday’s work at the MMSD.
All 3 girls seemed to be struggling with 3 different cold, at least sypmtom-wise. Rebecca had had a burning fever during the night, it had since broke, but she was wiped out and wound up sleeping most of the afternoon. Emily, just seemed worn out, a touch warm. Kate had a serious cough and slight fever.
Writing has become therapeutic for me. The pics through the day evolved into my standard blog, “The View from the Deck.” But why do I post the personal stuff? Im not sure. I have been contacted by other folks that it turns out in the same position. Other are sympathetic, others like Bert try and help (I’m still kicking myself over this scenario). Feedback is what I need I think. Looking at the bizarre episodes that seem to be plaguing me in words, publishing it Im hoping that somewhere someone will pick up on something or at least justify that this can happen to one person. Its one thing after another, Im tired of it and oftentimes wonder if Im doing something wrong or just living the life of Job. For that, maybe I need someone else to look at it.
The girls and I actually cruised through the remainder of the day. Rebecca seemed to be be feeling a lot better and Kate seemed to be improving. Emily is tough to decipher sometimes, her autism getting in the way of things. She is also in another period of not sleeping at night which is causing her to be tired during the day. I wonder just how sick she is, or just tired. That doesn’t mean she isn’t lying, just hard to discern. Dinner was simple with all 3 of them sick, I wasn’t planning a big meal. Small and simple, I had a few dollars on me and I bought a box of girl scout cookies from Emily.
Outside of the girls, I had spent the better part of the day at the computer, both writing and job hunting. A few things turned up on monster as well. But, the calendar said February 1st, its time to focus back onto the Euterpe Times and have it completed by the end of the week. My only real source of true income is by way of that little newsletter.
The View From the Deck – January 31st 2010
I couldnt get out of the house quick enough. Still, Rebecca my oldest was quicker. It was apparent that as I packed to head for the museum, she wasn’t feeling very well. Great, first Kate, now Becca. Nevertheless, she was still looking forward to the first day of selling Girl Scout cookies. Her troop was going to kick it off by walking the neighborhood around her troop leader’s house. I kissed her goodbye and headed for the museum.
After a quick splash of gas, I realized that I was pushing the limit on muster time. I went from being early to being late after tending to Rebecca. That’s ok. Normally the kids are asleep or at my mother’s house when I leave for the museum. It was actually nice to be able to say goodbye to someone.
As thought, the fo’c’sle wouldnt be worked on, new lumber to finish things up had not yet arrived nor been prepped. The major push was for HMS Surprise and Californian. Californian had stood down for a two-week period for much needed maintenance. She is by far, the busiest of the MMSD’s square-rigged vessels, so she has a tendency not to receive the maintenance as the others.
HMS Surprise is scheduled for dry-dock in May. Previous experience has taught us the down-rigging required for the sling lift at West Coast Marine Group. That is mainly down-rigging the entire mizzen mast, the topmast being lowered once she gets to the dry-dock. I hopped onto the Surprise work gang, outside of furling and dousing, I had done virtually nothing aloft and I felt it was time to start changing that.
With my personal economic issues, I’ve started looking for work anything and anywhere. A glance at ASTA’s billet bank revealed open positions on Lady Washington, Lynx and HMS Bounty. The pay wouldn’t be great, but it could be a steady paycheck, and vast experience. Pursuing Coast Guard certifications is one of my desired goals, a seasonal position at sea would eat up a big chunk of the USCG’s required 360 days required sea time for AB Seaman. It would mean leaving the kids, but Ive reached a point where a paycheck to provide for them has become as important than my personal, selfish feeling to being with them. A harsh economy demands harsh decisions. And besides, until I actually get the apps in, something could change, and even if offered a position, I could always say no.
Bert C- approached me. On reading one of my other blogs, he had gotten me a few gift credit cards to help me out a bit. Its funny. The museum and the people I have met here, have never failed me although I came say the same for me in the obverse direction. I am not adept at tall ships, no expert of any kind. But I feel most adept as a person when I am here, both in the work at hand and the friends that I have met. So much of me feels that I would have been much more better off had I been born in 1867 rather than 1967.
The job for the day, down-rigging the mizzen mast.
Re-mustering aboard Surprise, we spent about 20 minutes laying out a rough game plan of lowering the yards. Un-shipping the gaff was also a priority but that wand managed by the deck crew. As the topmen assigned to the mizzen t’gallant laid aloft, I realized that the futtock on the mizzen was of a different configuration. The futtock on the main and fore are perpendicular to the mast, composed of 3 stays. I found that laying over the futtock, grasping the center stay, hand-over-hand was my most comfortable route. The futtocks on the Star of India sweep forward, calling for an awkward lean forward as well as back. I’ve discovered a preference of port over starboard, but Im not sure why.
Brainstorming a game plan.
The mizzen futtock consists of only two stays and they are reasonably wide, which means out stretched arms, although granted, its a short futtock. Every futtock is different. On arriving at the futtock I also discovered the first step onto it a biggie. A quick glance over the top, looking for handholds and landmarks, I clumsily made it over, during which my phone began vibrating.
Aloft at last and the world is forgotten.
Bert was just behind me as we met Paul F- on the top. John K- and Art P- were doing the bulk of the work on the t’gallant. One of the bigger issues were the yard lifts, the t’gallant and tops’l lifts I dscovered are made off here on the top. The crowjack lift is made off on deck as any standard line. Yet, the lifts were one of those conceptual things I always had a misunderstanding of from the deck. Aloft I was finally able to differentiate the difference between them and the halyard in a more refined way. The halyards lift the center of the yard, the lifts lay outboard from the mast to the end of the yards supporting and leveling the yard.
The starboard t'gallant (left) and tops'l lifts.
The crowjack lift is belayed on the main deck at the mizzen mast.
For the first while, both Bert and I did not have much to do except taking pictures. It also gave me a chance to look at my phone. It was a text message from my Dad. There’s actually a possibility of work via my uncle of all things. I would learn later that it would not be any grand pay, leather working on firefighter gear at home, but it would be an income and I could work at home while the kids are at school. I’ll know more as the week progresses.
The crew on deck await smartly to recieve the yards.
Eventually, the parrell, footropes, halyard and additional gear was freed from the yard, enabling it to swing free save for the gantline and additional taglines. It was lowered enough that Paul, Bert and I could remove the lifts from the yardarms, lashing them back onto their respective cleat. The yard then proceeded on its way to the deck.
The tops'l parrel.
The tops'l halyard.
During all this, the main and fore tops’ls were feld in order to dry out a bit from the previous week’s rain.
Airing out the main tops'l.
Art and John laid down to the tops’l and began working on that. However, that was close enough that I was able to lay out on the tops’l shroud and get my hands a bit dirty with them. It became another moment where I felt like a bumblisng fool, but in the end, I understood things a lot better. The footropes had to be taken off as they were seized around the mast. Once removed, we ad to secure them back to the yard. That’s where I came in. As John worked on the far side of the mast with the starboard footrope, he asked me to secure the footrope back to the yard. Un-siezed, the footrope had an additional 3 fathoms or so of line, which conceptually, had no clue of the easiest way to secure it. I made a half-assed attempt, but eventually admitted to John that I didn’t know what I was doing. He grabbed the line, coiled it into a handful sized coil, passed it as a couple of half hitched around the yard, gasket coiling the remainder. When done, it made sense. I’ll know better next time.
The t'gallant yard lays to the deck.
I laid back down to the top to ease the lifts, as Paul freed the halyard from the yard. Bert was hauling the other side of the lift, raising the port yardarm up to Art, who removed it. John K- had laid down to the crowjack yard, removing the starboard lift. With that, for the time being, we laid back down to the deck. Laying below the mizzen futtock proved another awkward trial.
On the crowjack, John K- removes the starboard tops'l lift off of the yard.
As we reached the deck, Capt. W- called for topmen to lay aloft and refulr the main and fore tops’ls. We opted for doing them one at a time. Up the main prt shroud, over the futtock, “Stepping onto port!” “Port, aye!”
Starting at the center, the foot is brought up to the yard, then snatches of sail are brought in a folding fashion of sorts. As one gets to the bottom (or in reality, the center) of the sail, a taco-shaped shell has formed, if done correctly, a re-enforced section of canvas called the suncover has formed the shell. The tricky part is now to be dealt with as what boltrope of the foot is passed outboard, while the leech of the sail is brough inboard in a rough zig-zag fold. This folding over is the critical point of just how well a furl will be done. Between the reef point, the weight of the clew and tug of the bowline, folding can become a massive pile of gear in one spot, exhibiting the “dead body” look to a furl. If spread out just enough, a fine bristol furl is fashioned. As things are finished, the sail is rolled up onto the yard. This typically is when Geroge S-’s “pucker factor” kicks in as the sail when pulled up gives the sensation of trying to push you off the backside of the yard. With that, “Stepping off port!” “Port, Aye!”
Tourists begin boarding the America for the daily whale watching tour.
I wound up the first one to the deck, thus proceeded to the fore, accepting the simple fact that I would be first out onto the fore tops’l yard. It dawned on me, this was my first time on the fore. There were subtle differences, but not much until stepping out onto the footrope, which was a lot more loose than the main.
By the time we finished furling the fore tops’l, work had begun on taking the crowjack yard down. Teh crowjack, main anf fore course yards are equipped with yokes. The yokes are secured by a large, single bolt that with the weight of the yard, become immensely difficult to remove. Crew were hauling on the halyard trying to relieve the pressure, but Captain W- eventually called for capstan bars. The minute movements of the capstan finally found the right position to relive the pressure, the bolt freed up rather quickly.
Paul F- begins down-rigging the crowjack.
A few turns on the capstan, the halyard alleviates the pressure on the yoke.
A call to ease the lifts came and I realized that my time aloft, I had made the time to figure out where that line was belayed on deck. I stepped to it rather quickly, and began easing. After being out of place most of the morning on the mizzen top, the furling and now easing the line which I was able to find rather quickly, I found myself settling in to enjoying the work at hand. Then the lift snagged the top and popped right off, a situation that I began concentrating on unnessecarily. I thought it a big deal when actually it was something that could have been dealt with later. I came to that realizationas David C- began yelling at me. The crowjack had arrived on deck and the crew were escorting it forward and needed help. Sometimes I get a case of tunnel vision.
The crew aloft on the top began sending down various elements of the upper rigging. I found myself taking most of them to the fore peak. On descending into it, I was surprised at how cleaned up it looked. For quite some time, it had been a confusing mass of blocks, lines, pins etc.
The fore peak looking more Bristol with each passing day.
It was now lunch, but I wasnt ready to go home. I talked to David C- about helping him replace the starboard ratlines on the fore futtock shrouds aboard Star of India. Another task I’ve been wanted to have some hands-on experience with. So much so, I had looked through several texts to familiarize myself with the process.
With lunch done, I had met up with David who had been “marketing” a safer configuration to climbing harnesses, going from experienced topman to another showing off the details. Even as an inexperienced topmen, I am aware of the deficiencies in my own harness and was impressed with his suggestions. The only issue is affording it when the time comes.
David C- begins assessing the ratlines, Star of India.
Laying aloft, I carried the freshly tarred ratlines lashed to my toolbelt. David would be doing the bulk of the work. On reaching the futtock, David tucked himself on the inside of the futtock while I was noticing the nature of the ratlines. Everything I was accustomed to was a single lashing passing the entire width of the stay, lashed on the outer stay, clove-hitched around the center then lashed to the opposite stay. But the existing ratlines had no such clove hitch, rather heavily lashed on what appeared to be a footing of worming material then heavily tarred. It confused David as well, but he was busy discovering that his measurments were off on the ratlines. In the long run, with some adustments we were short one usable ratline. But there were enough questions generated by both David and myslef, that he chose not to lash them in place.
A worn out ratline.
He brought the ratlines back to the deck. Still tacky from the tar, we found an out of the way place for them to continue drying. David planned and was forming questions to be asked of the appropriate people to rectify the problem. We headed over the Berkeley to clean the tar of our hands. I found that I wasn’t so clean-driven as David, being satisfied with some remaining tar on my hands.
A reference shot of the fore course.
For me I was done, I knew that Rebecca would be finishing up her cookie sale-force march soon and I was sure that J- would appreciate help with the kids through the remainder of the day. She’s working two jobs and Sundays are her only day off at this point.
By the time I got home, back out to get Becca, it was apparent that she was heading down hill. The physical exertion was taking its toll on her cold. Over to the store on the way home, I tried using one of the gift cards given to me by Bert. It was declined, I figured I needed to activate it somehow. The second one worked and we were on out way.
By the time dinner was finishing up, Emily was complaining of not feeling well. Great, Kate, Becca and now Emily. Kate was on the tail end of things but still holding onto a scratchy throat and cough. Beyond that, we simply made it a family night, J- was planning on staying the night as well. All-in-all it became a decent family night that has not existed for a long time.
30 January 2010, head down, getting through
I have been starting to internalize things. J- has been trying to draw me out a bit, but the stress is so great and after 3 years of being on opposing sides on and off, its hard for me to open up to her. At this point, I can’t fault her for anything. In fact, I’m envious of her ability to have 2 jobs.
Friday was yet another downer, no check from unemplyment but another claim form. This is the 3rd in amonth and I still havent gotten a check. I dialed the 800 number, the automateed response was that I still didnt even have a claim on file. A call to the direct line, revealed thet they had sent me a form requesting proof of income for 2009, which more or less means my pay stubs via the museum. I’ve called them 5 times in 2 weeks, and Ive gotten 5 different stories.
By the time I had picked up the kids, I was shutting down from the stress and once again nearly out of gas. Kate was getting sick. I had not been able to print a few job applications for Lynx and Lady Washington as I dont have ink for the stupid printer. But it was Friday and I wasnt going to let the kids go hungry but at this point, I was in no mood for going home. Ive actually been spending so much time at the computer looking for anything online, the home is starting to feel like a prison. I called my folks, asked if we could come down for dinner. It would get them out of the house, fed and I could do some printing. And its been awhile since Ive talked to my mom, especially considering how often I actually see her.
I got the apps printed out, the kids ate. Emily piped up that I was out of gas in which my parents gave me some money to get home and some groceries. Its been years of contual humility, first with help thru the divorce and now a year after losing my job. They gave me a grand last month for rent. Its reached a point where things are adversly affecting them, and my relationship with them.
Staurday saw a brief respite. Sick as she was, Katie is in a play and was off with My- at rehearsals. But it was the day to pick-up GSA cookies for Rebecca. The 3 of us headed over and picked the cookies up. Girl Scout cookies, although we couldn’t officially sell until 9 am Sunday, the excitement brought some relief to the household.
We picked up some groceries, J- came over for the night. SHe would be staying in order for me to get to the museum the next morning.
But the internalizing is a cliched pressure-cooker. That showed itself Saturday night. A friend of the girls, M-, was outside and some weird kid-drama started up. The mother of the kids downstairs, as she often does, enagages the kids at their level. Looking back after collecting all the stories, it appears that M- starting the affair for the most part. At seom point, she threw a bar of soap at one of the boys, they threw it back. Typical kid stuff, parents need to step in and put a stop to it. I was inside dealing with yet another mini-drama in the house as Kate was sick. At some point, the mother encouraged the boys to thow more items at the kids, which included Rebecca. Both M- and Rebecca came upstairs in tears. Right or wrong, once a parent encourages the escalation of violence between children, the rules change. And its not like this was the first time this scenario has played out. The big difference was me. I had it, went downstairs, yelling at her at the top of my lungs. Its been a long time since Ive done that and I may have even over-reacted, just goes to show what the stress is starting to do to me.
Tomorrow. Work was needed on HMS Surprise. We are down-rigging her for dry-dock. Based on even vague chances of signing onto a paying ship I figured it was time to get up into the rigging and actually work, more than just furling. We had run out of lumber for the fo’c’slhead on Star of India so I knew that wouldn’t really be going anywhere. When I was having severe mental issues of laying aloft, David C- made the comment that once you are up there, the awareness of your position causes the world to melt away, there’s just too much at stake if you dont focus on the two hands and work in front of you. I found that my first time over the futtock. Laying aloft is becoming my escape, even though Im no spider-monkey like some of the other topmen. But the minute I leave the deck, the world melts away with all its troubles. Mariners often times left for the sea either because it called to them, or they were running from the landbound world. I know now that feeling.
I found the Gregory Peck version of Moby Dick at hulu.com. With the kids in bed, I plugged the headphones in on the laptop. My mom had given me a bottle of wine, which I opened and spent the last of the night in pursuit of the white whale.
What do you do when you see a whale?
“Sing after her!”
The Clipper Ship Era 1843-1869
The Ariel
Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth
http://files.usgwarchives.net/ma/statewide/ClipperShipEra.txt
to view photos from the book go to
http://www.usgwarchives.net/ma/statewide/ClipperShipEra/index.html
Work, unemployment and children
Monday night, 13 months of being out of work caught up to me. I didn’t have food to feed the kids, although they were able to deal some bread and fruit in the house. I had no money, the car was terribly low on gas. The next morning after dropping Emily off at school, the car ran completely out of gas on the freeway overpass. Rebecca and Kate were still with me.
The only positive was that we were a short walk to the post office. I prayed that the child custody check would be there, it was thankfully. Another short walk to a check cashing location, across the street for a gallon of gas and we were back on our way.
Early on in the dissolution of my marriage, I was furious with my wife (soon-to-be-ex) due to a similar situation. The ability to feed the kids was paramount in my opinion. But this week, there I was. I felt so bad, I actually sat the girls down that night and apologized to them.
I havent received any money from EDD since early December, although 2 claim forms seem to have vanished off of the planet Earth. Subsequent phone calls have only left me in confusion and again, rent is due Monday, Im behind, dreadfully so on all the utilities.
This much reflection has caused me to reconsider what I need to do for the kids. They have to have a roof over their heads, food to eat, clothes to wear. I can’t provide that depending on EDD or the job market to improve locally.
Ive decided that yet another “start over” in life is required, although re-education itslef can be pricey and sacrificial. I started with what I would like to do, the boils down to three items:
1. Work on a tall ship, pursuing Coast Guard credentials, AB Seamen, Mate then Captain.
2. Take an interest in carpentry and enter a cabinet and furniture making program at Palomar College.
These 2 in a perfect world would lead to a career in boat restoration.
3. Continue to work (or wait for work) in the field of reprographics and printing, while improving my AutoCad skills.
The last is something I enjoy as well. But the market has taken such a crush its been unbelieveable.
THe next session, realistically in cabinet making wont start until the fall. The spring session just started and I dont have the funds to turn it around that quickly.
I plod away occasionally at night with AutoCAD. The Euterpe Times is my only source of income and regular work, but even the January issue has been delayed and piggy-backed onto February due to a lack of submissions.
Tallships. Although I am no expert seaman, I started looking and found ships familiar to my mind with openings. Lady Washington, Lynx, Bounty and the Southstreet Museum in New York. At least according to ASTA’a website. I contacted them all, sending resumes but receiving in turn applications to fill out. That’s in progress and should be out by the end of the weekend.
The realization that some sort of new arrangement for the kids is paramount. Jennifer, would have to accept the kids wholesale (although that term applied to kids makes me cringe). I’ve come to realize that I, personally, can live cheaply.
The mental strain of being out of work for so long is beginning to wear me down, so much in fact, Ive begun to neglect email, facebook, even normal social contacts. As a person, I need to work. As a parent, I need to provide, even if I am not there to enjoy its benefits.
In addition to the Museum itself, I have begun to contact restoration, carpentry, etc businesses for intern/apprentice-work. I’m even willing to work pro-bono as long as I can start learning a new skill. A difficulty there is that one starts stepping on that thin line of unions, one Im not familiar with, nor would I want to anyway.
Sending 4 to 5 resumes out daily and not hearing anything back for 13 months beats one into the ground. For now, there is no other choice than to do what I can. The first step, one that can be done immediately is to learn…
Recent pics – HMS Surprise
Aloft on the Main Course (Courtesy of Bert Creighton)
(Courtesy of Bert Creighton)
Joe, can you hurry with the gasket, I'd like to get down. (Courtesy of Bert Creighton)
Um, Joe? (Courtesy of Bert Creighton)
Suffice it to say, I returned to the deck unharmed. (Courtesy of Bert Creighton)
Christmas miracles
There is an odd thing about this Christmas. I’m celebrating my 1st anniversary of being out of work. It’s made for a tough year. But it’s made me realize it that we made it, true, with a lot of help from others and they won’t be forgotten. I’ve reached a point that there are a few that I don’t even know how I can thank other than say, “Thank you.”
Commonly, I take my role as a father a bit overboard and serious. But as life takes shape for my kids, it typically is justified. I am the device that works to enable there ability to grow into adults, continue to believe in Santa, and make it through the day with a smile on their faces.
Christmas has always been a big deal to me as I grew up and got older. There is that last hold on the magic of the season. I believe in Nicholas Claus as I call him. A combination of the historical man, the mythology of children stories and every little nuance in between.
But for the first time, I have seen the miracles encompassed in the season. Small ones, really, but those that are so remindful of every holiday special from Rudolph to the Grinch. But I have not been the recipient of them. Being a man, calling myself a tool is to popular culture a rather derogatory remark. But that’s what I am.
This Friday past was the last day for school. A phone call from Emily’s therapist at Alvin Dunn led to a pleasant surprise. Rady’s Institute was able to come up with some Christmas gifts, simple things, but special nonetheless. I had arranged to come get them just prior to school letting out since I would be picking up Emily anyway.
Emily was due to have a pizza party in class that day, with Jamba Juice available at the end of the day by the cafeteria. I had sent her off with 2 dollars so she could buy one.
Arriving early to pick things up, I got a weird sensation as I passed through the office. The instant though of a Christmas miracle popped into my head. I wasn’t expecting a lot from Rady’s, and that’s not to belittle that contribution. Anything was appreciated, and gratitude couldn’t be described.
As I turned the corner to Emily’s therapist’s office, located right next to Emily’s classroom, I heard Emily. She had begun screaming, “I’ve been robbed!” As she came into view, she was collapsing to the ground in tears.
Emily is autistic. Something as simple as a 2 dollar Jamba Juice may not seem like a big deal, but for her its a bright and shining moment in her day, especially when it officially kicks off her Christmas break.
It turns out that the money I gave her, she had stuck into a mesh side pocket on her back pack. The back packs are hung outside the class room. Obviously, some kid during a recess or what have you, spotted the money and snatched it.
As I reached her, I learned everything rather quickly. That very moment her teacher stepped outside along with a little boy. The boy quickly offered a dollar that he had. But, it was a rare occasion that I had money on myself. I thanked the little boy, and so did Emily, but we gave the dollar back. I handed Emily another dollar and she recovered quickly.
With her back into her class room, I went and picked up the box of gifts. Along with it $45 worth of grocery gift cards, an immense gesture. Within a short time, school was out and Emily was happy as a clam.
Was I a small miracle for my daughter? Something spoke to me as I entered the school grounds. Turning the corner at the very moment when she was in dire need, how did that speak to her? It hasn’t been the only moment where I felt I was used by some “greater force” this past week.
This morning I received a call from the San Diego Regional Center, a mental health agency supporting families with mental disabilities. We had been sponsored with a gift card. I don’t know what it’s for yet, or for how much. But that doesn’t matter, my kids will be better off by the end of the day during an overly tight Christmas season.
At 42, I come to discover that Christmas miracles do happen. They might be small and I may not even be the beneficiary, but they do happen.
