Daddy, Papa, and Leonard

DADDY - He never hesitated to change diapers, give bottles or baths.  He could fix anything  from dolls, games, bikes, even broken hearts.  He taught his daughters how to throw a ball, catch with a mitt, the proper way to hold a bat. He even taught them how to say the word, "Why"!  (Daddy, can I go outside?  "Why?" Daddy, can I have a dollar for lunch? "Why?"  Daddy, the toilet is plugged-up!  "Why?")
He took them on their first motorcycle ride, and taught them how to ride a bicycle and drive a car. He wasn't interested in stopping at the bar after work; he wanted to go home and be with his family.  He always went to Open House at their schools, Parent/Teacher Conferences, plays, concerts, and school functions.  He worried about his girls - when they were ill, when they were sad; when they started driving he paced the floor if they were five minutes past curfew!  After a few times of waiting for Kent bus to arrive (which was ALWAYS late), he decided to start driving Hollie back and forth to Kent on weekends himself.
He helped each girl buy her first car,and gave them their first monthly bill to pay.  He showed them how to put gas in the car, fill the windshield wiper reservoir, check the air in the tires (although I don't think any of his girls  got the hang of that one!).  He said "I told you to watch your speed" when they got their first speeding ticket, and found the best place to hang on to when he was the passenger and they were the driver.
He welcomed each son-in-law into our family warmly, but with firm warning that he would come looking for them if they ever hurt his Jennifer, Hollie, Amy.  He told everyone that his family consists of six "kids" once they were all married.  He knows what sports the guys like, what kind of work they do, the make of their cars.  He is always willing to lend a hand, but tries hard not to impose on their time or space.  He respects their opinions, but is not afraid to give them his.
PAPA -  He still changes diapers, gives bottles and baths, and can fix anything!  His TV remote is highly respected, and his DVR is filled with Toy Story, Wonder Pets, Backyardigans, Tinkerbell, trains, and cars.  His chair and his lap is the best place to watch TV or take a nap. His swing is the best and he comes up with the best "swinging" songs.  He makes "work" fun, can turn tears into laughter, has the best trains.  His garage has riding cars and bubbles, and he now understands that sidewalk chalk is okay to use on the driveway and patio.  He cooks awesome pancakes and scrambled eggs, lets his grandkids stay up past their bedtime, and will not hesitate to take their side against their moms.  He gives hugs and kisses freely, looks for the moon for and with each grandchild, and grandkid-sits more than any grandfather I know.  He proudly tells anyone who will listen that he now has 11 "kids" plus one on the way. 
Sometimes I think back to the day in Bob Evans when Leonard said to me, "I know the girls are grown-up now and don't need me like they used to, but I still want to be here for them."  It was March of 2003, we had just come from the doctors, and although the colonoscopy was still a few weeks down the road, we both kinda knew that the results were not going to be good.
We almost lost our husband and daddy that year to cancer.  I know that God, the doctors, and the many prayers that were said for Leonard during that horrible time played a part in his recovery, but in the end, I believe he beat the disease because he loved his family and still "wanted to be here for them."
Happy Dad's Day Leonard, I love you and am very, very thankful that you are still here for us!

Sophie

I had no idea who she was but every day while I waited in line to pick-up Amy and Hollie from school she would come over to my car and catch me up on PTA and the school gossip.  Finally I asked Mary Ellen who she was, the short woman with the short chestnut hair who talked and talked.  "Oh, you mean Sophie?  Mary Ellen said, laughing.  "She's lives two houses away from me.  Until this year her daughter, Amanda, went to St. Clements. Sophie is a lot of fun!
I got to know Sophie better over the next few months since Amanda and Amy were in the same class, but it wasn't until a warm, May night when I took her home from a PTA function that we became friends.  That night, we sat in my car, in her driveway, and talked for over an hour. We talked about PTA, kids, grandkids (she had one; I didn't), and how our husbands never answered the phone because it was never for them. We decided right then and there that our husbands needed to meet. We exchanged phone numbers, and the rest is history.
Sophie entered my life at a time when I was "out-of-sorts" with my world.  It wasn't the best time in my marriage, and I was struggling with being a working girl after being a stay-at-home mom for many years.  My daughters were growing-up, and after getting married so young, I wasn't sure where I belonged. Sophie became the older sister I never had, and sometimes, the mom, the one who would listen and not judge, but at the same time put me in my place.
Sophie was quite outspoken, and believe me, if she had something to say to you, she said it!  Clearly.  I learned from Sophie to stand-up for myself to the point where sometimes even Sophie would tell me to back down!  When Paul and Leonard got to know each other the four of us would pick Mary Ellen up and go out dancing and drinking on the weekends.  We became PTA's "bad girls," following a country band called The Outriders.  We became the band's most loyal fans (Mary Ellen married one of the band's guitarists, Rodger), and called ourselves "The Hall of Shame Dancers."  We would close the bars then go for breakfast where nine times out of ten I would plop ketchup on my white blouse. Sophie's favorite song was The Dance, by Garth Brooks, and one night, after a few beers, she told me that she wanted The Dance played at her funeral.  I said, "Okay, and do you want buried in your purple cowboy boots?"  "Yep," she answered.  "Okay" I said again, and then we started talking about how we were going to be two old ladies in cowboy hats and boots causing "Trouble" at the nursing home.
 It wasn't all fun and games. There were spousal disagreements (ok, sometime huge arguments), kids to keep in line and take care of, financial woes, and everyday life to deal with. This was the part of of our lives that taught me what a great woman and "great mom" Sophie was, as her daughter wrote on FaceBook yesterday.
Sophie put everyone else first.  She was there for me when Leonard was in the motorcycle accident - pretending to be his sister so she could go into the ER room with me (did I mention Sophie was a nurse before she became a full-time mom?).  She walked in and bent down by Leonard and said, "I am your sister."  Leonard looked at Soph, went to say something, and she said "Shhh!  I am your sister!)  She watched Amy every morning before school, and was the only person Amy would stay with other that my mother.  She kept Amy overnight when I had surgery, and made our wedding cake for our 20th anniversary.  She volunteered at  school and church, helped out her older neighbors, and as far as I know, never missed Mass.
Soph made all the pew bows for Jen and Bill's wedding; she loved to do crafts and make things for friends and family.  Her kids have quilts and crocheted blankets, dream catchers ( I still have mine, and the plate she made for our anniversary).  She made homemade fudge every Christmas.  Her backyard was filled with flowers and toys for the grandkids, and her heart overflowed with kindness for young and old alike.
Soph called me on spring evening.  "I found a lump, but I'm sure it's nothing."  I think my heart stopped at that moment.  "You still need to call the doctor," I told her.  "I did, I'm going tomorrow.  But I'm sure it's nothing."
Nothing turned out to be nine months ( I remember this because after she found out it was cancer she said it would be all be over in nine months, the same amount of time as being pregnant, but without the cute little baby coming at the end) of radiation, surgery and chemo.  At the end of that phone conversation I hung up the phone and cried.  She made me promise to make an appointment for a mammogram, and made me promise to have one every year (And I do).  Soph might have lost her hair through her treatments, but never her spirit and positive outlook.  She still tried to help others even when she was going through the treatments.
Nine months later Sophie was feeling good; the cancer was gone. She and Paul traveled to Disney World with Amanda's cheerleading squad, Amanda graduated, Soph spent time with little Patrick and the other grandkids, and our conversations went back to normal.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, the year 2000.  I had done something to my back and could not get up from the chair.  I called Sophie for "nursing" advice.  "My back hurts too, and my neck is stiff," she told me.
"Gee," I said, "Maybe we should start going dancing again, we had less aches and pains when we were going out all the time!"
I ignored the signs, I didn't even want to think about what it could be.  I knew my aches were nothing, but I had read enough when Sophie was diagnosed with Breast Cancer to know her aches could be something.  It wasn't until Leonard and I stopped over Sophie and Paul's to tell them about our new home in Parma Heights, that it hit.  Sophie's cancer was back, this time, in her bones.  She said, "I'll have the treatments and this time it will be gone for good!"  I prayed Soph was right.
I have many regrets from those last months Sophie was here, but my biggest regret is not going over to see her on Good Friday, 2001.  She called me at work, and I could tell by the way she was talking, things were not good.  Paul got on the phone and I could hear the worry in his voice.  Sophie wanted to talk to me again and said, "You will come over next week, for sure, right?"  I promised I would.  I kept my promise, but Sophie wasn't there.  She made it to spend Easter with her family, but by Monday evening, she was gone.  Amanda called and told me.  I remember hanging up the phone, and, I don't even know how to explain the horrible, heartbroken sounds coming from my throat.  My best friend, my guardian angel was gone.  I cried for me, for Paul, for their kids. I cried more for Sophie than I did for my own mom.
It's been ten years since Sophie's been gone, and I still miss her everyday.  So many times I want to pick up the phone and talk with her; get her advice.  She would be so very proud of all her kids and grandkids.  But even though we cannot see her, she is still here with us, watching over us and cheering us on.
I often think back to those days in Franklin's parking lot, sitting in the car talking though the window to the short woman with the short hair whose name I didn't know.  Thank you God, for sending Sophie over to me!
Love you Soph!

The Job of My Dreams

This past year I've gone on quite a few interviews, a nerve-wracking experience in today's job market for anyone, but especially for those of us on the other side of forty.  For the most part the interviews have gone well, and although I didn't always get the call-back for a second interview, I came through the experiences with a positive attitude and enough praise from the interviewer to move ahead with my job search.  

Until last week.

The job advertisement was for a Marketing Assistant - a "people person" with various office and computer skills.  I have all the qualifications so I applied.  On Thursday I got the call for the interview and spent Thursday night filling out the application and revamping my portfolio.  It was a small (2 person office) business so I choose not to wear a suit but instead wore a nice skirt, top, and dressy sweater.

Maybe it was the sweater.

The outside of the building looked liked it belonged in the slums.  I overlooked that part knowing that ninety percent of small businesses in the Cleveland area have failed in the past 3 years.  The inside did look better and when I opened the door to the office I was interviewing at, I was impressed with the set-up.

Still, something didn't feel right.

Ms. Small Office greeted me first.  She was dressed in jeans so I was glad that I didn't overdress.  Soon Mr. Small Office came in and shook my hand.  Nice guy. Worked his way up from the bottom, kept his business running during the recession.  

Yet, the looks that Ms. and Mr. were throwing my way made me want to say, "Didn't expect someone old and chubby to walk through the door, did you?"

Then Mr. "I am the Leader and Decision Maker" walked in.  For you "youngster" interviewers out there - remember- most of us old folks know instinctively when we are not wanted.  This young man did not hide his surprise when he saw that there was not a pretty young thing waiting to impress him.  In fact, he just starred at me for while after he sat down.  When Mr. Small Office tried to pick up the slack by asking me to tell them about myself, I could see Mr. Decision Maker shaking his head "no."  

That's when the words coming out of my mouth started fighting with the thoughts going through my "old" brain.

Me - "I completed my college degree two years ago when I was laid-off."

Ms. Small Office - "I give you a lot of credit for finishing your degree...while you were laid-off."

"Old" Brain - "You mean you give me a lot of credit for finishing my degree at my age, don't you?"  

Me - "Thank you"

Mr. Decision Maker - "What would your employers say about you?"

Me - "I am punctual, helpful, a team player, meet deadlines, and always do a good job."

"Old" Brain - "I do a good enough job that they can ignore my "Senior" moments."

The interview lasted less than 15 minutes, and that was with phone calls from their kids and a current employer looking for his paycheck.  They had no interest in looking at my portfolio, the portfolio that impressed other interviewers enough to give me that second interview. I walked outside into the sunshine glaring at the dirt-covered windows of the building, got into my car and drove away, laughing, knowing I would not be back.

Now, I do give my interviewers credit - they worked their way up from employees to employers, moved out of their parents attic into their customized 3000 square foot homes, work two days a week and make enough money in one year to support their families for ten years.  They are no different than many people today - make it big, get it all, sit back and relax.  I wouldn't mind having it all either - but not at the expense at making fools out of others.

Mr. Decision Maker; Ms. and Mr. Small Business, Here's a little information I didn't give you in the interview:

I was once that Pretty Young Thing.  I was even told by a co-worker once that the sales guys were glad I was hired because I was "nice to look at."  That was okay, because I knew I was hired by the owner because I had the job skills.  I completed most of my college education while raising three girls, working full-time, and running interference between my parents.  I don't like men who act like I am a second class citizen, and I don't like people who judge me by my age, looks, or weight.  It is not polite to answer the phone while in a business meeting with anyone.  Mr. Decision Maker, you need that self-righteous attitude smacked out of you!  Someday, not too far in the future, you will be looked upon as being "old."  

For this "old" lady who is writing this post, the week didn't end on a bad note.  I met all my deadlines at the office before leaving on Friday, spent Saturday afternoon at JoAnn's choosing fabric for baby gifts, Saturday night having a nice dinner with my man, and to top it off, was hired for my first paying writing assignment.

In the end, I got the job of my dreams after all!