Keeping It Alive...

 Tis the season around here for projects.  As many of you know, about 2 years ago I took to refinishing old dilapidated, destined for the dumpster, pieces of furniture (or anything really) and breathing new life into them. I do this, in an effort to curb my frustration with some of the choices my family members make.  To put it simply, I take to the long-neglected wood the frustration I shouldn't take out on the people I love most.  So far, it's kept everyone alive.

It started with a 1916 steamer chest and has spiraled into many, many other projects.  Around Christmas I treated myself to a Cricut machine and, well, I may have a serious problem controlling my creativity. Anyhoo.... the husband was in our local Savers thrift store a few months back and came across an old military chest for ten, yes, ten dollars.  No brainer, right?

It still had the original tray but was definitely in need of some love. Inside, in black Sharpie marker was the original issue date of 1942, the owner, and that it was later converted to files in the 80's. Knowing that these trunks, unless in pristine condition, hold very little monetary value, I went to work. I utilized my Buy Nothing Face Book group to access ancestry accounts.  We found census records from when he was 9.  His original draft card for WWII.  His obituary.

I reached out to his son, who was living not too far from here to ensure that the trunk was not donated in error before I did anything.  When I got no response, I got to work. I stripped the old painted cardboard off and brought it down to the bare plywood.  It was not easy, let me tell you.  I tried everything from a heat gun with a putty knife, to soaking it in water, to olive oil.  In the end, after inhaling several pounds of what I can only assume is caustic glue residue, 80 grit sandpaper did the trick, and we were down to bare wood.  

I taped all of the plywood off and gave all the metal a clean coat of gunmetal gray spray paint. I attached casters to the bottom. I found some cool fabric at my local store and used Mod Podge to adhere it to the inside.  This ensured that the sharpie marker would remain intact even though it was covered. The bottom was adhered to foam core board so that the bottom would have a bit of a cushion between the caster screws and the lining. I brought the tray back to it's original size, sprayed it navy, and Mod Podged the fabric to the bottom of the tray. I have plans to get together some of the original owners information that I gathered and put it in acrylic resin in the center of the tray. But I haven't gotten there yet. The handles were replaced with leather belt pieces, that I procured for free.

I knew I wanted something super fun for the top so I scoured the internet.  I was thinking old maps, but just couldn't find what I was looking for.  I came across an old sketch of a P51 Mustang bomber plane and just couldn't get past it. For some reason, I just couldn't find anything else that would work and be affordable other than that image.  So I ordered it, for all of $18, and wouldn't you know, it came a month earlier than expected.  I then got to work on hand painting the sides.  Three different shades of gray (one of which happens to be my sunroom walls) and some black buffing oil paint, and the look I wanted was finally achieved.  

The last touch was to use a rustic army font and pay homage to the man that started it all.  His serial number, issue date, and USAF adorn the sides and top.  

Once it was finished, I reached out again on our town FB page in hopes that someone would know his son or grandson.  It was then that I discovered that back then, it was not called the USAF, but the USAAF, as the Air Force didn't exist as it's own entity yet, but simply as the Army Air Force. And, as luck would have it, after 381 likes/loves and nearly a hundred comments, someone reached out to him and he found me via direct message.  

This was, in fact his dad's trunk, and he loved that it had a new life and someone to really love it. His dad was drafted into the US Army Air Force in 1942.  During his time in the service he rose to Staff Sargent and was certified to fly many planes.  Of all of them, the P51 was his favorite "ship" to fly. And suddenly, I knew why I couldn't get past the image, and why the colors matched my house perfectly. 

I joke about how I take on these projects to stay busy enough to keep my family alive. But apparently, there's another force entirely ensuring I'm keeping something much bigger alive. 

And I'm so happy to do it.

Dad Classes....

The older I get the more amazed I am at how smart parents are.  

I have had 2 plastic trash cans stuck together for probably close to 2 years now. We have tried everything short of cutting one in half to get them apart and nothing.  My Dad was over one day and saw me lugging these two stuck barrels around while I was weeding and thought I was crazy. Or stupid. The look was hard to decipher. 

"Just stick the lip of the top one on the tailgate of the truck and hit the rim of the bottom one with a hammer"

You know it took three whacks and the thing came right off.  What the actual heck?

Now, I'm not dumb. And I'm really good at you tubing answers and googling the quick tutorials. But there's just some things you just can't find, or can't put into words, and for those things my parents always seem to know the answer. Always. 

I've done my share of passing along bits of info to the boys, but I wonder how much actually gets through.  They can address and mail a letter, write a check, dial an old school phone, etc. They know the names of tools, wrenches, and can tell you what a Phillips head is. Oldest has googled basic car repairs, changed multiple car batteries, tires, and the like. They have basic (very basic) sewing skills.

However, I was outside the other day talking with the neighbor and I was saying how tired I was because Youngest had ended up with a flat tire at 10pm the night before and rather than calling AAA, since he was local, we went up and helped him change it. He commented that he's 100% positive his kids would never have a clue as to how to do it, let alone who to call other than him. That it was almost embarrassing how little his kids knew now in comparison to what he knew at their age. I mentioned something about Youngest wanting a fire extinguisher for his room because he had a space heater, and my neighbor commented about how he's sure his kids wouldn't even know how to use one. Same for oil changes, changing electric suppliers, billing and banking inquiries, and where the water main shut off is in the house. The list adult stuff is actually endless, how to reset a washing machine, check brakers on the electric panel, hem a pair of pants, or change the furnace filter.

Which got me to thinking.... how are these 20 somethings ever going to gain all of this Dad knowledge that has helped us all survive for generations?

There needs to be a hands on class in High School again.  Maybe a coalition between the Council on Aging and the school that they need to pass prior to graduation. It could be part of their 40 hours of volunteering... spending time with retirees learning the trades and skills they spent a lifetime doing.

With a refresher course for the 20 somethings.

Or even a judgement free how to lifeline that you could call for when you need to remain anonymous because you feel so stupid.

I'd call that just so I could avoid the look on my father's face as he watched my special kind of stupid drag two stuck together trash cans all over the yard.

It's Been A Week...

Him: So you mean to tell me you think this is a good idea?

Me: Nope. But it's an amazing opportunity, and he'll never know if it's for him, unless he does it.

Him: You're not worried?

Me: Um, well yeah... been doing some praying, might even actually go to church...

Him: So, when I was randomly up at 1am I prayed to my mother.  And then while I was in the shower, I'm a bit rusty, but I said some prayers in Portuguese.

Me: Listen, you can't spend twenty years teaching your kids to seize every adventure that comes their way, then condemn them, and worry yourself sick when they do.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up having one kid rolling the dice (and a sizeable chunk of change) that he'll land an environmental engineering co-op in the city this fall, and another floating around in the Atlantic ocean for a week.

Not literally, he was on a boat. I should mention that Youngest isn't a great swimmer, has no idea if he gets sea sick, and doesn't like boats.  But after quitting his job last week, when his friend mentioned they needed a fifth for the boat, he jumped onboard. Literally.

Y: So, I think I found a job.

Me: Awesome.  That's definitely different. Could be a great opportunity.

Y: Yeah, so I'll be home later to pack.

Me: Wait, wha....

Y: It's a four day trip.

Me: What kind of boat is it? Who's the company? Where do you go? Will you have cell service? What do they eat on the boat? Will there be food you can actually eat?

Y: I have no idea.

Me: Okay then, Have a good time.

So, he ended up the bait man on a lobster boat.  Turns out there IS a smell worse than wrestling funk.  Who knew? The trip was actually 6 days, and there wasn't much he could eat, aside from the snacks I haphazardly packed. There was no cell service so he was able to disconnect, which, honestly, he loves. They go about 200 miles off the coast, so the night stars are amazing and there's a certain sense of peace when the work is done. But I think it opened his eyes on a lot of things. Youngest is far from a vegetarian, but the waste was hard for him. He saw way too much death, for little reward, as it's just the very start of season. And of course, the traps catch a lot of live fish, which then get stuffed into bait bags to literally die as something else's meal. Large fish get caught in the lines and die.  The only choice is to cut it free and move on. The shark, nearly as big as the boat, was the hardest for him. Already dead from the lines long before they pulled them, it's still hard to be that close and not feel it.

He got seasick the first night and then was fine.  The disconnection from the outside world and being on night watch every night allowed him time to decompress and think. While he's not planning another trek anytime soon, he's spent more time at home engaging with us than he has in two years. He's also decided that "If I can handle the disgustingness of bait, I can definitely be a plumber."  He's going to start canvasing for an apprenticeship this week. If it actually happens, it would be a HUGE step in a positive direction. We were in the kitchen today and he mentioned he just doesn't want to waste his fun years working full time.  I reminded him that he's 20, and now's the time for him to work full time, so that he can enjoy the time off he has and really fully enjoy his life. 

Me: I've worked full time since I was 17.

Him: You should have been livin' your life Ma....

Me: But then I wouldn't be where I am now, I wouldn't have you.

Him: And you'd probably have been much better off, it would have been so much easier if you didn't have me.

Me: You know, as hard as some things have been, I have never once, ever, not wanted to be your mom. ever.

Him: I really appreciate you Mom.

Me: *momentarily speechless*

And, the Coast Guard didn't find him floating in the water, so we're calling it a win.

Tomorrow, we pack up Oldest to head back to the city for summer semester.  He's put deposits down already to stay through August of 2023 when he graduates, literally banking on landing a completely different co-op in the city. Of course, I'm nervous for him, because if he doesn't, it's a lot of money to pay back for housing that's unnecessary, but as he keeps reminding me, if there was ever a time to do it, it's while he's in school. It will also round him out considerably, having already done co-ops  in structural and land surveying. 

*sigh*

I've raised them to be bold, take chances, and LIVE life. 

I hate it when they throw it back at me.

The Me Too Move-Around...

 When I first started working at the office, I was told by several carriers to never be trained with two carriers in particular. Back then, about half the routes still delivered out of their private cars, so training would put you in the back seat of their car, to see how it was done. I was told that because I was young and newly single, I would be a target for them.  I thought they were kidding.  They were not.  I never did train with either of them. I opted to learn on the fly, spending needless time teaching myself, rather than be put in a situation I couldn't get out of. It was clear that these carriers, career employees, were going nowhere despite their behavior, and I needed the job. 

So, a year later, when I went on one date with a new clerk, and he decided to go through my personal effects once I was out of the office, call me incessantly, and literally followed me around in his car while I was delivering mail, I didn't report it.  What would be the use?  The behavior was tolerated, he knew people higher up in the system, and I needed the job.  

You would think, in an office with a 2:1 women to men ratio, this would not be an issue. But it is.  One of those carriers past away.  The clerk was fired for unrelated issues. The other carrier was fired in 2016, after nearly 35 years of service because he had escalated to harassing his customers, and after several attempts for the office to handle it, finally they got the police involved.  His route was restructured to allow someone else deliver the buildings. He was escorted off the premises by the police. He was still given the option to retire rather than be fired, as he was over 70. He opted to not do any paperwork and ultimately got himself fired.  It took nearly 8 months.

We currently have a clerk who has been with us for 17 years and has had numerous complaints.  One recent one prevents him from working in an adjacent office. In the past you could tell him to stop and he would for a few months, or weeks, and then it would start up again. Annoying, tedious, ridiculous, but this was the tolerant environment the higher ups had created. He makes comments about appearances, everything from you look nice to I'd like to see you naked.  He's had to be blocked by several employees on social media for inappropriate comments. And a number of customers and employees have started going to other offices rather than risk an interaction with him, or have him know their home address. Recently he started in on a new employee, who tried every way short of vocal violence to get him to stop, but instead of backing down he seems to have escalated. Last week it boiled over, I believe the police were involved.

I actually wondered to the Hubs if there was something at home that triggered this.  It seems over the last few months he seems to be worse than before, like he's looking for the fight. It's eerily reminiscent of the carrier who escalated his advancements to the public. Knowing some of his background, I wondered if there might be an issue with medication. I inadvertently found out tonight that that may be the case. Regardless, this has been going on, and is heavily documented for the last 17 years. Which is shocking really, considering how much doesn't get reported.

I was asked to give a statement since I ended up in the middle of it all. I support the girl 100%.  This behavior can't be tolerated.  It never should have been the norm.  But it weighs on me heavy because this is a 25+ year career, he has a family, 2 kids. What do you tell them?  What does he tell his daughter??? Or does he not say anything, because as it has always been tolerated, why would he think he did anything wrong?

Ultimately none of this is any of our decision. Everything gets passed up to the labor board who will decide the next course of action.  And his union will fight it.  If he is allowed to return, then our union will fight it. If they move him along to somewhere else it will just happen again. He's too young to offer early retirement. One option is to send him to the only branch of our office left that no logged complaints. But that would restrict a lot of the current scheduling because of who he can and can't be in the building with (see existing files) and put him in constant contact with customers, often issuing passports, in a small office, having access to ALL their personal information, on a daily basis. It would also leave him more or less completely unsupervised which means chaos could easily ensue, particularly since there is always at least one woman also scheduled there.

Oh, and did I mention that position is a higher paygrade?

*sigh*

Only in the federal government.