Saturday, February 27, 2010
Stuff, stories, and memories
The theme of my life right now is cleaning out stuff as we are preparing to take the longest way possible to Kansas. I first noticed this theme when I was slowly going through my desk while getting ready to retire. I was passing important working-stuff along to co-workers, taking other important non-working-stuff home, and throwing other junkie-stuff out (why had I saved that stuff, anyway?). I also had a lot of pictures and toys around my desk that had been in my space for many years, and were, in a sense, old frinds of mine.
At the same time, I was approached to give a little ice-breaker speech about myself, and I realized that the stuff on my desk could help me tell my story. Well, the ice-breaker speech went pretty well, so I think I will take the same approach in the blog as I clean out the stuff that has accumulated over the past few decades. You can learn a lot about someone from their stuff and the stories that are attached.
I had a picture of my mom pinned to the wall of my cubicle. It was taken when she was about 17 or 18 years old. She was really beautiful. Our relationship when I was a teenager was pretty typical. I didn’t think she knew anything, and she didn’t think I knew anything, and we pretty much disagreed about almost every topic. However, as we all know, moms are really pretty smart. When I think about what some of the best guidance or advice I ever got from my mom, one of the many things that sticks out in my mind was when I was in the eighth grade and she made me take typing in school. I had already filled out the forms to take homemaking. "No," she said, "take typing. When you can type, you can always get a job. Then, you won’t be trapped in a situation only because you can’t take care of yourself."
So I took typing.
Our family moved around a lot when I was little, and I believe that’s why I have the wonder lust now. However, by the time I was in high school, we had pretty much settled down to where we live now, and adventure was everywhere except where I was. So, as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Navy, and saw a small bit of the world. I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan for a few years. It’s really hot and humid there. Really hot and humid. I worked outside as an electrician for fighter jets. It sounds really fun and exciting, right? No. It was really hot. Really, really hot. And humid. And, being a fair-haired girl, I was pretty sunburned all the time. So, one day, I just happened to mention that I knew how to type. Most of the fellows, probably all of the fellows at that time long ago, did not know how to type. So, I was miraculously whisked inside (into the air conditioning) to keep track of all things that needed to be typed.
Thanks, mom.
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Yes'm. I sold my trombone, which had seen me through band from 6-9th grades in August before taking typing in the 10th grade. I always figured that knowing how to TYPE (touch type accurately) would stand me in good stead in the REAL WORLD (read as outside of school) better than knowing how to play the trombone some measurable bit better.
ReplyDeleteSure enough, while waiting at the Subic Bay (Phillippines) Naval Base for my ship to arrive back from Viet Nam in 1965, I shot my hand up in the air as fast as I could when that important question ("Anybody know how to type?") was asked. Then, voila! I was working in the chaplain's office in air conditioned comfort, typing things that needed to be typed, while my cohorts were slaving away in the VERY hot tropical sun, hauling 100-pound bags of stores for incoming ships. Except for the 3-pound mosquitoes who could drill right through the sheets we didn't need except to try to keep them away, that assignment was a plum for me.
Wow you look so much like your mother! My parents made me take typing in 7th grade and ever since then I have been an excellent typer and probably did get a lot of jobs because of it.. great advice!
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