Goodbye, Mrs. Young

 

(leftmost image from:  https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-6594737/Colorado-woman-1st-WWII-female-pilots-dies-96.html)

I first met Mrs. Young in 2008 at a women's retreat/workshop, at a remote ranch on the high plains of New Mexico.  Her face was a maze of deep-set wrinkles, her smile lines etched deeply into her skin.  She was towing an oxygen tank; macular degeneration had stolen away much of her vision, leaving her only broad impressions of shape and color.  She didn't let these small things stop her from enjoying life, and she served an important role at the workshop - those who needed a break from the larger group would come to sit in the sunshine with her for a spell.  She had a way of listening that helped you to sort through your dilemmas.

She also had a beef with AT&T - my then-employer.  The company had been sending her incorrect bills for some time, and she was most fed up with them.  When she found out where I worked, she pounced - "Can you get those idiots to set things right?"  (She had a way with words.)  I promised I'd try.

And try I did, over the next five years.  I escalated her cause multiple times, only to be told it couldn't be fixed because of some obscure regulatory issues.  I couldn't fix the larger issue, but I had little trouble getting through to the service center to manually adjust her bill each month.  I got to where I knew many of them, those months it took only a few minutes to get the corrected amount.

The amount was never consistent, so after I had the bill adjusted, I'd call her.  "Hello, Mrs. Young, this is Janice from Kansas City", I'd start each call - if I identified myself any other way, she had no idea who I was.  I'd give her the correct amount, and then we'd talk for fifteen minutes or so, trading news of the books we'd read, the people in our lives.  (She switched from AT&T to her local carrier about the same time I left the company - the new people never got her bill right either, she once told me with some relish...)

As I got to know her, my admiration grew.  She was one of the first women pilots in this country, one of the WASPS from WWII.  She raised five children on her own after her husband died, in a time when single mothers, even widows, were viewed with some suspicion.  She had little patience for bureaucracy or fools, and didn't hesitate to call a spade a spade.

I visited her several time over the years - we'd spend a few hours catching up over lunch.  Once, about five years ago, I picked her up at her place, and she started directing me to the restaurant.  About halfway there, I turned to her and said, "Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to be taking directions from a blind woman?"  She howled with laughter.

I haven't been able to call her for the last few years; her hearing degenerated to the point where phone calls were just frustrating, so I switched to writing her letters instead.  Every once in a while, she'd call me to give me an update on her life - I had no problems hearing her, and she was unable to write letters.  it worked.

Dang, I will miss her.  She was one of my heroes.  She was a living example of how to not let the little things get you down - if I can learn to do it half as well as she did, I will have done well.

I hope she is able to breathe deeply, to run, to see once again the faces of those she loves.  I hope she is flying free in one of her beloved airplanes.  I hope she can peer over the side of the plane, laughing, to see us waving her onward into the sun.

Fly free, Mrs. Young. Be well...

Electricity Appreciation Week

"

You don't know what you got 'til it's gone"...

The snowfall was beautiful - the kind of snow we rarely get in Kansas City.  It landed softly, quietly, covering the ground and coating every branch of every tree and bush, turning the entire city into a sepia-toned photograph.

As it was coming down, I was two hours west, in Fort Riley, helping my nephew pack up to get ready for his deployment later this week.  I didn't think much of it when I got the notification on my phone that the power had dropped; it's not unusual to lose power when it snows.

But afternoon wore into evening, and I never got notice the power was back on. I arrived home to a dark street; trees all over the area had given way under the weight of the snow on their branches, and had taken out a vast swath of the power lines in the city.  Still, I was optimistic as I went to bed under an extra layer of blankets.  The crews would be working non-stop to get us back online; surely, in the morning, I'd be back in business.

Morning came, and as I was out shoveling the drive, the lights came on across the street and down the block, but my section of houses remained dark.  Ooohhh.  This did not bode well.  As the afternoon wore on, I went out for a walk, determined to enjoy the beauty and quiet of the day anyways.  I ran into one of the neighbors down the street, who told me the reason we didn't have power - a branch had fallen on the lines, and the fire department had to come out to douse the sparking transformer as it blew.

Dark came early.  I made me some chicken soup on my gas cooktop, lit candles and started cyber-stalking the KCP&L outage site.  There were still some 6000 outages; over 50K customers out - I figured, since there were still only about 30 of us without power, we'd be down until they checked off enough people on the list to get to the last 2000 or so outages.

Sure enough, Monday morning came, and the house inched colder; the inside temp down around 50.  (Truth be told, I was impressed it was still that warm - outside temps had been hovering around 30 since the lines went down.)  It didn't take long for boredom to kick in.  Worse, I realized I had no way to make coffee!  I don't keep many ground beans on hand, and I'd run out Sunday morning.  Now, I was in crisis mode.

Across the street I went, to some neighbors who are friends with a friend of mine - that makes us practically buds, right???  They were kind enough to answer the door, and were happy to supply my morning dose of caffeine.  As we were talking, I worked up the nerve to ask them if I could camp in their dining room for the day - I figured I could both keep an eye out for the power trucks and work from there.  They were kind enough to say yes, and so I was warm and comfy, and able to get some work done.

About mid-afternoon, the power company was down to 4000 outages, and I saw one of their trucks come down the street.  It was just a pickup truck, not one of their big ones capable of replacing blown transformers, but two guys got out and walked up the driveways where the blown transformers were!  I thought about running out and pinning them down until they gave me an estimated repair date, but restrained myself.  Mostly because they wouldn't know, and they'd just lie to me to make me go away.  (That's what I'd have done in their boots.)  Away they went, and I finished up my workday.

By this time many of my friends had their power restored, so I started calling around a bit.  I figured I'd proved I was tough by spending two nights in the cold dark house; I didn't need the extra credit points for the third.  I was able to snag a bed with a friend who lives just a couple of blocks away; most grateful, since the temp inside my place had fallen to 48 degrees.

I brought leftover soup with me, and we enjoyed dinner together in her lighted and warm kitchen.  As I went to bed, they still had about 3000 outages, down to 21,000 people without power.  Surely, I thought as I dropped off to sleep, surely, they'd have mine back on sometime the next day.

The power company beat my estimate.  They had us back up and running at 6AM Tuesday morning!  (My guesstimate had been close - the outage count was around 2500...)  Whoo hoo!!!

After enjoying some coffee, I bid my friend goodbye with a grateful heart, and went home to see what there was to see.  I called my boss, got permission to work from home one more day.  I figured I could reset clocks and timers, etc., etc., and maybe even get my laundry done while I worked.

Alas, it was not to be.  The power had come back on, but my internet was still out.  ** sigh **   Off to the office I went, to work from there.  (I waited to leave until the house had come up to temp, and the furnace had cycled a time or two.  Better safe than sorry...)

When I got home that evening, I thoroughly enjoyed the moment when I turned the thermostat up a few degrees, and the furnace promptly kicked on.  I pressed the light switch, and the entire room was flooded in warm, incandescent light.

Warmth.  Light.
A working working refrigerator, washer and dryer.
I am usually thoroughly spoiled, taking their presence for granted.
Not so this past week; I have been aware of the gift it is to have reliable power at my beck and call.
I am blessed.

Postscript:  As I was writing this last night, the power went out again.  Only this time, it was 9 degrees outside with a 15-20MPH north wind.  I was not nearly so philosophical this time.  I downright pouted as I gave up on the evening, got every blanket in the house piled on to my bed, climbed under the covers still fully dressed, and resumed cyber-stalking the outage site.  I did NOT want to be cold again; I'd had my fill of it last week.

Fortunately for my equilibrium, the power was only out for 50 minutes this time.

As the furnace kicked in, I sent grateful thoughts to the crews who had ventured out into the cold to save my plants and plumbing from almost certain doom. I shed a few layers, and climbed back into bed, newly aware (not that I thought I needed the reminder so soon) of the fragility of life.

Breathe

Beauty Is

After the intensity of the last few months, I was more than ready for a week off, and last week, I got it. It was the first full week I've had off since starting with Jack Cooper eighteen months ago, and having Kate and Lexi here for most of it was a welcome change from routine.

I got to enjoy their company and the comfort of my own bed, all in the same week. Life is good.

I slept in almost every day. I remade my acquaintance with Lexi - she's growing so fast. The two of them helped me to clean out my closet. (I can never seem to get that done on my own - I want to hang on to my favorites long after time has passed for them to be retired.)

We enjoyed a Christmas celebration with my favorite ex-brother-in-law and his family. I hosted a gathering of people who love Kate here at my house the following night. After the two of them left to go back to California (their flight left at god-thirty on Friday morning), I spent the better part of the day putting together a jigsaw puzzle.

For me to put together a puzzle requires a stretch of uncommitted time. Once I dump the puzzle on the table, nothing short of my eyes refusing to focus on the pieces gets me to stop until the picture is complete. (Even then, it's off to bed only to resume as soon as is practical in the morning.) It's a great way for me to rest my mind. I listen to music, and my thoughts wander here and there, not lighting much of anyplace because most of my focus is on the colors and shapes before me. I'm not sure - do other people use puzzles for meditation? - perhaps I'll start a trend! Or not.

Once the puzzle was complete, I managed to catch up on some household chores. I went for a couple of walks around the park; the weather was unseasonably beautiful.

I knew I'd been carrying a lot of stress around with me since coming back from Libby's in Minnesota at the first of November, but typically for me, didn't realize quite how tightly I was knotted up until I took a few days to breathe. Life goes on, with or without my consent.

While my break was too short (no, I've never had a period of time off I thought was long enough, thank you for asking), I'm grateful for the time I had.

Taking time to stop, breathe and relax is important.
Just ask me.