Yankee in a Red State

The ramblings of an expatriate New Yorker in the South ~ formerly known as The Kudzu Kronikles ~

Midsummer Lullabye

What is there to talk about?  Hmmm, let's see ...

Life has calmed considerably.  I have been working a lot, but now I'm down to working 3 days at home because the price of gasoline went over the $4 mark.  I think at its height I was paying $4.27/gal and now it seems to have relaxed back to $3.65 which is where it was when I first moved back to NY.  So yes, they foxed us again during the summer travel season when most Americans hit the road to the theme park or campground du jour.  Our Big Trip this summer was a day trip to the southern Catskills (somewhere near Cobleskill) and a reunion with old friends from the Grateful Dead chatroom, of which I have been a member since 1996.  It was a really nice trip, and I must say that the entire Cherry Valley stretch of Route 20 is gorgeous and needs to be revisited in the fall when the leaves have changed.

That may not be far off in the distance.  The leaves are beginning to turn in Bristol due to the cool nights and last night I could detect a whiff of wood smoke from someone's fireplace on the thin breeze that wafted through my window as I was falling asleep.

But back to the price of gasoline.  It's an election year, folks, and the pols are promising to do something about the soaring price of fuel but you can bet they will not follow through.  I don't care if it's coming from the new agent of change or that wrinkly old white haired dude, they will not have ONE IOTA of impact on the price of fuel because the government, other than providing bloated tax breaks to the already mega-rich oil companies, will sit on their hands and do nothing.  The price of crude oil is stimulated by supply and demand and politicians are impotent in the face of OPEC - an example of which can be seen when Dubya Bush went, hat in hand, to the OPEC ministers and begged and was subsequently rebuffed.  I'm surprised they didn't laugh him right out of the room.

So with that, fellow Americans, you can bet that once the election is over, gas prices will probably skyrocket again (either because the rich white guy won or did not win) and we will be forced to eat lobster instead of turkey this Thanksgiving because the price of turkey is up (they have to be fed with corn which also skyrocketed due to speculation over the Magic of Ethanol).  Lobster just need to be hauled in, while a turkey's carbon footprint is the size of Bigfoot's.

Now it is true that the pilgrims' first Thanksgiving probably included lobster on the menu and this does not bother me because I am about as tired of eating fowl as I can possibly be and I haven't been able to afford a decent lobster dinner in years.  Pass the drawn butter please, and give me a bib.

posted by: willothwisp at 16:28 | link | comments |
gas , turkeys, lobsters

Dumb Luck

Angst and gnashing of teeth be gone.  I was just lucky enough to land myself a second job during this time of record unemployment.  Frank, however, has not been so lucky.  54 year old men are not high on anyone's list of potential employees and he's taking it badly.  I made the mistake of showing him my first paycheck from my contracting job last night and he curled into a fetal position and wallowed in self pity -- a wallow from which he has yet to emerge because as of this morning things do not look any brighter. I have to wear sackcloth and ashes now in order to be fittingly commiserate and I have to reserve my self-congratulations for forums such as this.
At any rate, I interviewed (finally) for a teaching position at the local community college.  This was the job that I did not get as of May but they have decided to take me on as an adjunct until the search opens up again in August for a permanent, full-time English instructor.  My meeting with the head of the English Department (which is actually the Dept. of Humanities, an umbrella under which college English shelters itself) went amazingly well.  He is a high-energy guy with not a little bit of Attention Deficit Disorder.  He kept looking at his watch while we were chatting and while this would have set me on edge with anyone else, it actually let me relax because I knew he wasn't paying enough attention to see the cracks in my facade which are a composite of "fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope" (apologies to Monty Python).  OK, fear is one of my weaknesses.  Social anxiety is another but I think that falls under the category of fear.
What ensued, therefore, was a quick chat.  "What do you want to teach?"  I gave him my wish list:  Honors English, Lit., Creative Writing, Composition I and II, in that order.  "OK, are there any days you CAN'T teach?"  he says as he shuffles through my dossier (he laughed when I called it that, with perfect French pronunciation which was a good thing because I was being silly).  I tell him about my fat contracting job with Johnson&Johnson and how they will allow me to teach if it doesn't take tooooo much time out of the office and so we opt for a Tuesday-Thursday schedule.  I take it this means I have the job.  He laughs and puts my dossier down after glancing at my proposed course modules, resume, list of subjects studied, teaching evaluations, etc, and says "you're the real deal, you came highly recommended" (this from my former teacher there) here's how we structure our courses,"  which he then proceeded to describe.  Handing me the syllabi for Freshman English and English II (Intro to Lit).   The students have to write a minimum of 3,000 words per semester.  This is what the college wants ... blah blah blah ... yes, I know that colleges have a responsibility to turn out competent graduates ... then he said the magic words: "Teach it the way you want.  Lit breaks down to literature, drama, poetry.  Teach it in any order using any author.  Use film, use recordings, use PowerPoint because students relate to it.  Don't worry about technology.  They have to write x number of papers, one should be based on research, but don't push research. Gotta love a community college where two thirds of the students have no plan to go beyond the Associate's degree.
He extended his hand and said "welcome aboard," then he gave me a packet of official stuff to fill out and return (the job application to start with - ha!).
OK, maybe not dumb luck here.  I did work very hard and I suffered greatly along with my other poor abused adjunct colleagues (yes, you).  I had no idea that outside of a Research I university there was the Emerald City of cake teaching jobs.  Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

posted by: willothwisp at 13:47 | link | comments |
teaching, literature, the academe

Check This Out:

Some bon mots (insert sarcasm here) from my politics chat room:

POLINC:
Libs have no idea why theyre so ga-ga about the dude....Except thats hes black"

Dwightvol
Many white Liberals are assuaging their guilt over things like slavery by voting for Obama.... hoping he will say ''I forgive you for being born white in America.''

Doda
I saw a show last night that told how Obama got to be the nominee and it was designed by young whites....the guy who helped start Facebook designed Obama's web site and the donations from it put him over the top

POLINC
Obama was born a Muslim. His father was Muslim.

KASLIN
Wrong, Obama's Father was a muslim, as was his stepfather

Afterburner
Dwightvol: how often would you want to put the pork to Hillary?


Doda
Afterburner: Only if you are a jerk off

[ quoted: Afterburner - Doda: asking how often someone porks someone else is no measure of maturity, it was a good question ]

-----------------------------

And this was a span of only about 20 minutes.  Either I have to find a different place to debate politics or many conservatives are really this stupid.

This is the face of the American voter, folks.  If that doesn't scare you I don't know what does.  They get their information from Fox News and Rush Limbaugh and their opinions are formed by Anne Coulter and Chris Matthews and Reverend Jeremiah Wright.

I don't even bother interjecting, although at one point I did post "do you knuckleheads actually THINK before you type or is this some kind of Tourette's syndrome?"

It can get pretty ugly in there.

Personal attacks are not uncommon.  I would like to be reassured that none of these chat denizens acts this way in real life and that the Computer Screen of Anonymity gives them the cojones to be this open with their wacky beliefs but I'm really afraid that one of these days when I feel I am free to give an opinion in mixed company one of them will pop up and call me a fat ugly old hag (that's usually the best they can come up with) to my face just because I supported Hillary for the nomination.

Speaking of which, I think Hillary is brilliant.  Congrats to Obama for running a tight race.  Either way, I will cast my vote with the Democrats come November (although I have abdicated my Dem party membership and signed on with the Independents).

Now, back to chat.

posted by: willothwisp at 12:42 | link | comments (3) |

Beating the pavement.

So, here's how our little slice of America goes at the moment. A snapshot, if you will, of an average American family trying to get by. Keep in mind that the price of gasoline is up to $3.97 a gallon in some places (cheapest gas is $3.87).

Both Frank and I get up early. He usually beats me to the computer. We feverishly check emails for notifications from CareerBuilder. I wait, and have my coffee and start to craft some beaded earrings to sell at the local markets because they're quick, I have the materials (generously donated by my friend) and I can sell them for egg money. It's odd that the term "egg money" comes into play here because that's the depression-era generation's term, not mine. I'm from the generation that was supposed to benefit from all the postwar prosperity we kept getting promised in film strips while sitting in a darkened classroom somewhere in the 1960s.

Once Frank is done at the computer I check my CareerBuilder and Monster.com accounts. We both apply for everything we feel we are qualified or skilled at and we wait.

I make the mistake of watching the news. The news is not good. Unemployment is up. My ancestors wail from their graves, reminding me how they survived the lean years. I'm glad I listened to their stories when they were alive. I'm glad I paid attention to my great-grandfather when he showed me how to grow things and how to milk a cow. It might come to that.

I'm frightened and fairly sick with worry because we're in our 50s and beginning to feel like no one values us as employees. We begin to learn that perhaps we are experienced in the wrong areas for this global economy. I begin to second-guess every decision I have made in my life.

Friends assure me that this is tough for everyone and I remind myself that things would not have been much better had we stayed in Florida. But I am still fraught with fairly self-reducing if not destructive thoughts about how we may be living IN boxes soon instead of out of them.

On the more cheerful side, I have started a book for people who suffer from depression. Let's call it "darkly hilarious" because we depressed folk need as much humor as possible to stave off the dark days. This is oddly juxtaposed with my obsessive worry, of course, but it's my safety net.

I did consider not writing this post but if a blog is not for venting sometimes, then what is it for? Yes, yes, I know: I have seen the openings for professional bloggers. I have yet to be able to separate professional from personal. My profession and my personal life are fairly intertwined and while I can separate the two, I think this blog would be incredibly dry if I didn't stop for a moment to voice fears that perhaps all of us are having and that saves me from total despair: I am not alone.

(Reposted from per aspera ad astra.)

posted by: willothwisp at 20:36 | link | comments (1) |

Redirect Redux

It might help if I posted the correct link to the new blog:

per aspera ad astra

posted by: willothwisp at 22:51 | link | comments (1) |

Redirect

Although I am still very much a Yankee, I am no longer living in the reddest of red states.  You may find me, if you are so inclined, at  per aspera ad astra

posted by: willothwisp at 16:57 | link | comments (1) |
moving

The flurry of packing has commenced.  I have hired movers, answered phone calls, faxed things, endured inspections and surveys, been sorely disappointed with a repair job for which I paid $450, and now my life goes back into the boxes.

I used to move on the average of once every 2.5 years.  My big toe would start to itch and I would be in a new apartment or house quick as a wink.  When my son was born, I had been in the first house I ever owned approximately 4 years.  I was hoping to set a record and so we stayed on in that 1889 canal-town house for another two years.  I would still be there if fate had not intervened as it has a habit of doing. I spent 2 years in Canandaigua, right downwind of the Canandaigua Wine Company  (mmm the smell of rotting, fermentation) then I spent the next 2.5 years hopping from place to place, ever further away from home, until I found myself alone, with my five year old son and a crazy ex husband, on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere.  I proved to myself I could rough it and then I moved back closer to Rochester, first south, then just a skosh north of the 5&20,  That was before Florida.  We sort of know the rest of the story, grad school, met and married husband, boychild grew up to be a man, master's degree, yadda yadda yadda.

Each time I moved I would dread the part that goes like this:  I take everything with which I am familiar and put it into boxes.  I become unsettled with the stirring of pockets of dead energy, cobwebs and dust flying; the purge before the final push to get it all into the truck.  Once I am on my way, with the highway rolling beneath me, I start to feel better and I know I will, but this time I have to live out of a suitcase for a month and in the company of my in-laws who are graciously allowing us to stay with them until the semester is finished and I can make the graceful exeunt.

I keep remembering to breathe, to not freak out too much, to try to keep things calm and have compassion for my family members whose lives are also in upheaval.

 

posted by: willothwisp at 01:51 | link | comments (2) |
family and friends, new york state, ramblings and rants, canandaigua, 5 & 20, middle of nowhere

Closing

We sold our house today.

Then we found out that Hotzstuff's father's health is fading fast.

We knew this was coming.

I could make forced observations about cycles of life and death, decay and renewal, but the last time I lost a father in law to death I had a newborn son.  My own father died about six years later.

We close at the end of March.  Until then we wait for life to close for Mister Jim.

*Addendum:  James Mather passed away quietly, in his sleep, on Tuesday, March 7, 2008 at the Palms of Pasadena hospice.  He is survived by many who love him and who wish to express their deepest gratitude for his many years of dedication to their upbringing and general well-being.

posted by: willothwisp at 23:35 | link | comments |
family and friends

Check This Out

 I always check the gigs for writers because in my heart of hearts that's what I truly want to do (and teach of course - a nice balance of the two would be cool).  This is the first ad I come across, listed under the heading of "Rochester Marketing Person."

Reply to: Date: 2008-02-29, 5:09PM EST First off, I want to give you a link. The common theme amongst all my new accociates is the success stories is the fact that none of them have ever experienced anything like this before and that goes for me to. The small time is over for me as it is for you as well. Move over to my website now and give it a look email me now.

At first I am appalled.  OK, I can figure it out within a reasonable explanation, I think, but the essence of my angst is those folks who either can not or will not communicate effectively.  

After rereading, however, I like the optimism of "the small time is over for me as it is for you"

They need me to write for them so they might pay me large dollars to explain things real good in Americanese.

May we all enjoy great big times.

posted by: willothwisp at 18:31 | link | comments (1) |

Relative Calm

OK I got all that off my chest.  I have awakened to a new day, no stress so far, soft breeze blowing in through the open sliding doors and the sweet smell of moist earth and rain-washed (yet still pollen-filled) air. 

These are the types of things I will miss about Florida, along with waking up on a January day to 70 degree weather and the vast expanses of Gulf and Bay waters that are readily accessible.  It's not enough of a tradeoff though, for my feeble attempts at staving off the certain economic disaster that we are facing if we remain here.

I am perhaps more angry about the economy than anything and it is not fair to take that out on little old Florida but the economic woes of the nation are affecting me here and now.  I listen to folks in other parts of the country who are experiencing the same thing.  If I wanted to dig further, I guess I am angry because of the frustration with a state government that spends money like a drunken sailor and has no way of recouping operating funds other than on the backs of its citizens.  As a teacher, I feel helpless.  I am not valued, not paid enough to care, frustrated that I have adopted that attitude and beating myself up for staying here longer than I should have.  As Hotzstuff says, "you can't go back and change the past," so it is useless to berate myself.

I am also going to miss BBQ, some really fine restaurants, and relatively inexpensive shrimp.  And grouper, which I will have to trade for haddock which isn't a bad tradeoff at all.  And Cuban sandwiches. I will also miss banana pudding, macaroni and cheese as a normal side dish, red velvet cake, fried chicken and mashed taters.  Yeah, ok, I know I can cook all these things up north but I am declaring war on food that makes me look like someone stuck an air hose up my butt and inflated me.  I will leave the 100 pounds I gained in FL somewhere in the hiking hills of New York.

Most of all, I will miss my three female friends and my sister in law, who is mad because I'm leaving her here but not mad enough to move with us.  Born in Thailand, she prefers the warm weather and I do not blame her.  Some bodies are acclimated more to the tropics.  Personally, I look forward to not sweating between my front door and the car.  I will think of her fondly whenever I prepare Thai food which she taught me how to cook.

Airplanes fly both ways.  I may become a snowbird yet.  I wouldn't mind visiting during spring breaks and if I am ever allowed to retire, I can see myself joining the throngs of "Q-tip Heads" that make their yearly migration to Florida.  I have made good friends here, I have family ties (Warrior Stepson will probably make his home here when he returns from Iraq) and would probably make a better visitor than resident.  Who knows?  One thing I have learned is to never write the future because nature has a way of changing things once I think I have a permanent plan.  Good thing I can roll with changes.

posted by: willothwisp at 14:43 | link | comments |

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