True Tales of a Talker #6: The Birthday Girl

 

When people ask me what my favorite holiday is I always answer the same: my birthday. Mine is October 6^th and I love celebrating it! I guess for one day a year it makes me feel special. In my family it marks the beginning of Christmas. Yes, the holiday is still over two months away from that date but I am the only one in my family with a birthday after July if you don’t count my dad’s which is in August. I get to signal the start of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the decorating it brings.

On this particular day, I was calling Medicare for information on how to fix an MSP claim. That’s when another insurance is primary over Medicare. Things have to be just right in order for it to pay.

Gina, the representative, was very nice. It sounded like she was having a good day already. And, being me, I wanted to find out why.

I asked her flat out “Just what has you in such a great mood today?”

She answered back “It’s my birthday!”

I immediately sang the ‘Happy Birthday’ song to her. I refrained from the “Are you 1? Are you 2?” and so on.

She let out a little squeal and thanked me. I could tell she wasn't working from home as so many employees are doing at call centers during the pandemic. She was using her inside voice.

I inquired as to how she was going to celebrate. She was eager to say she celebrates for an entire week. Last week her family took her out for dinner. Another day, her husband spent the entire day with her going to their favorite places. A few nights before the kids had made her favorite for the family dinner. Just last night she went out for drinks with her coworkers.

I was amazed. "You've had quite the week! What do you plan on tonight?"

She took a deep breath and let it out. "To tell you the truth, I hope we just stay home. It's been a wonderful week but I'm kind of tired. A night in with my family relaxing would be the best thing right now."

Totally get you, girl.

She went on to help me with my claim and when we were finished I, again, wished her a very happy birthday.

I have worked on my birthday before. In fact, I remember a long time ago on my 20th birthday I was working at Ames Department Store and, much like I do now, if work needed me I never said no. Well, I can't say NEVER because I am getting better at saying no for the sake of my family and my own sanity. Back then, though, I didn't miss an opportunity to work because we had no money when my first husband and I got married. Minimum wage in 1995 was $4.25 an hour. We needed to make every penny we could.

On my birthday that year, I remember my manager, Mr. Scott Finnemore, calling me and asking me to work. I knew we had a band practice that night (or so I thought). We needed the money more than I needed to practice. I said yes and I told my husband at the time that I was going in. The person covering the front desk called out sick and they had no one.

While I jumped in the shower to get ready, my husband quietly called my workplace and explained the situation. When I came out of the bathroom I got another phone call saying they didn't need me and that the other person was coming in anyway. I thought nothing of it. I asked if they were sure because I would cover for anyone. I didn't mind. He laughed and said "Enjoy your night off." 

We went to a band member's house and it looked like no one was home. We walked into the house and the lights came on. It was a surprise party! I literally had no idea. My husband said "I had to call Ames and tell them you couldn't work tonight. We all had this planned for you." 

The next day when I walked in Mr. Finnemore wished me a belated happy birthday. I thanked him and asked how he knew. He told me that my husband had called in a panic last night and explained everything. "That's why I called you back and said we were covered." He then said "Sharon, what would ever make you think to work on your birthday?" 

I told him what my father always told me.

When you work hard and give 150% every day you WILL be rewarded. Your boss will recognize this and see the dedication you have to your work. Never slack off. You'll be better off for it.

He just looked at me, nodded and said "Okay...but next year you are not working your birthday."

I have used my father's advice every day of my life. It HAS paid off. I think every supervisor I have ever had has realized the good work ethic my parents installed in me from a young age. From working 4 jobs at once to put my first husband through nursing school to still working 4 jobs...somethings never change. Granted 3 of the jobs I have now are per diem: the radio station Cruisin' Country 93.5, the tv station WABI-TV and my band, Sharon Hood & Dixon Road. I have the best full time job in the entire world here at Maine Veterans' Homes. 

And I now take my birthdays off.

 

 

True Tales of a Talker #5: The Connecticut Fisherman

 

Maine in summer is my favorite time of year. I love the amount of daylight, the rain and the hot, sunny days spent outside. 

Chad and I love to fish! At the beginning of this year he taught me how. It is something he has done since he was child and now he has passed it along to me. And as far as I know I'm not half bad.

We fish in a few different spots. We have gone to Lovejoy Pond in Albion, Douglas Pond in Pittsfield and frequent the Sebasticook River.

That's where we met him.

We were on our way back to the boat launch near the bridge off Peltoma Avenue when Chad had almost hooked a big bass. Our luck had not been very good that morning. Neither of us had caught anything in about 4 hours of fishing. When the bass had unexpectedly come off the hook, a frustrated Chad shouted a very colorful word. VERY colorful. So loud and so colorful it made me cringe. He was extremely mad. He then looked over to his left and said to me sheepishly "Great. And there was someone here to hear that." I looked to my left and saw him.

The Connecticut Fisherman.

He was an older gentleman in a blue single person kayak decked out with rod holder and a few other thingamabobs that Chad had probably seen in an ad from Karl's Bait and Tackle. He was a bit portly and having the life jacket around his neck made him look more so. A hat protected his head from the sun beating down on it and sunglasses protected his eyes from the reflection of it on the water. 

The thing I noticed was his smile. He was probably thinking he had been in Chad's situation a time or two before. 

As we traveled past him I waved my arm to say hi because I can't resist greeting another person. He said hello and asked how the fishing was. I answered that it wasn't so good. I had a few bass hooked but nothing I could pull into the boat and my husband's day was even worse than mine if that was possible. He said:

"That's the fun of it, isn't it? At least you're outside enjoying this beautiful day!"

How right he was. 

After two straight weeks of temperatures in the upper eighties and terrible hair-wrecking humidity (am I right, girls?), it WAS a beautiful day! It had started out overcast with nine mile an hour winds. After three hours the clouds had disappeared to leave us with sun and warmth...and no humidity. It truly had turned into a beautiful day.

When I heard his voice I knew the accent. It was definitely southern.

How could he be a Connecticut Fisherman with a southern accent?

That's where the talking comes in.

I told him "With that accent you can't be from Maine."

He laughed. He said he was from Connecticut. I told him I was too! When he asked what part I told him Milford. He said he knew where that was and asked if I had ever heard of Wauregan. I had but I couldn't tell where it was. Wauregan was close to the border of Rhode Island. He mentioned Bridgeport where my mom is from and Hartford. I told him I had relatives in those areas. The Fisherman had moved to Wauregan in 1966 from South Carolina. Wait. What?

"You have lived there for that long and still haven't lost your southern accent?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's something I've always had and will never lose. Have a great day and I hope you catch something!" He tipped his boonie hat and paddled away. I would bet my Gary Carter baseball card collection that if he hadn't had sunglasses on, we would have seen him wink at us.

Not more than five minutes later, Chad hooked a pickerel. It wasn't the bass he had wanted but it was something! When we fish we always go out hoping to catch "The Big Bass'. Instead, that day we learned a big lesson from a southern Yankee: 

There is always something to be thankful for each and every day.

True Tales of a Talker #4: The Flat Tire Edition

 

There is a story with every person on the planet. Each one is completely different than the last. Think about it. Just as no two fingerprints or snowflakes are the same, there are no two people that are the same.  There may be identical twins or triples but no two human beings in this world are exactly the same. 

And each life is amazing.

You can learn so much from just a few minutes of conversation with a complete stranger. That's what I did on a hot summer day in August 2020.

I was headed to pick up my son from paintball at my friend Julie's house when I saw my turn coming up. As I got closer I saw an old woman parked at a stop sign with a red car directly behind her. There was no one behind me so as I slowed to take the turn I asked if she needed help. She said she had a flat tire. I told her to move her car into the parking lot and I would help. When she had successfully moved her car into the dirt lot the red car moved up and sped away.

I pulled in and could see the passenger side rear tire was flat. She got out of the car and met me at her trunk. She said she had a spare and we unloaded all her packages to get to it. She didn't have a jack or wrench. Her son had taken them out a week ago because while using her car he too had a flat tire. I told her I would get mine. It wouldn't take long to change it out. 

I introduced myself and she told me her name was Maryann. She had been traveling from her apartment in Levant to medical appointments in Augusta. That's a seventy mile trip and takes over an hour. Something was telling me she wouldn't be making those appointments on a donut. It was already four o'clock.

I got her spare tire out and went to my car to get my things. I had never seen my spare tire, tire iron or jack because, truth be told, I hadn't thought to ever look. I had never needed them before.

I put down a blue sweatshirt to protect my knees from the gravel and got my first real glimpse at the tire. Not only was it completely flat, it also had no tread and was bulging out in one spot. It was no wonder it had gone flat. I went about jacking the car. I located the frame and lifted it up. I put my tire iron to the first lug nut and found it was too big. 

What was I going to do?

I told her I would call my friend Julie who lived about 10 houses down and ask her to bring hers over to see if it would fit. She said she would bring them down right away.

All this time people were driving past and looking at us. They would drive past the road or even turn up the side road and rubberneck to see what was happening. You could clearly see the spare tire, the jacked up car and the tools from every angle. 

Yet no one else stopped.

Until I flagged down a sheriff.

Somerset County Deputy Sheriff Stephen Arminger pulled in and asked if he could help. I explained the situation and he went immediately to the problem and took a look. He got the tire iron out of his vehicle and tried it.

Still too big.

He said he lived just up the road.  He would drive there and bring his back. His iron had 4 sizes. One HAD to fit.

While he was gone, I talked to Maryann. What else was there to do?

Maryann was one of seven children. She was the fourth in line. First came triples, then her and then three brothers. I told her I came from a large family too. There were nine in mine. She said it was just her and her youngest brother left. She was seventy-two and helped take care of a ninety-two year old man who lived alone. 

Maryann had four children: two daughters and two sons. She lived with one daughter because she had medical problems and her daughter helped to take care of her.  Her other daughter lives in Kansas City, Missouri and works for an eye doctor.  One of her sons moved in with them after the COVID-19 virus hit. He was just accepted into college. She said he had just turned twenty-five and told her it was time to to do "big boy things".

I asked her if I could call anyone for her and she said no. If she could just get back home, she would be okay.

Julie arrived with her tire iron and it was too big as well. Deputy Arminger came back and, sure enough, brought his four-sided iron. It turned out he and Julie knew each other.  While we were trying to figure out what to do, a Pittsfield police cruiser had turned in to see what was going on. 

Officer Jeff Vanadestine offered his assistance as well. He saw Deputy Arminger in his attempt to loosen the lug nuts but to no avail. The wrench didn't fit some and the ones it did fit were on too tight.They put their heads together and decided to call a friend of theirs that lived on the outskirts of Palmyra. It would take him about fifteen minutes to arrive. He owned a towing business.

Julie had to head home to a house of boys who were playing paintball while being supervised by her husband, Brett. She said she would drop off Anderson to me since I wasn't far away. The officers stayed and struck up a conversation with Maryann. I stayed too. My jack was still under her car but I really just wanted to keep her company. We had already been there an hour. What was a few more minutes?

So I talked. 

More.

I told her the story of when I was eight months pregnant in 2006 with my only son, Anderson. I was driving from Oakland to Waterville when I discovered I had a flat tire myself. I pulled over and thought "Well, time to get dirty." I put my hazards on and started getting the spare tire and equipment out of my trunk. 

What I didn't notice was that where I pulled over was directly across from KMD Driving School. Owner Mike Perkins was in a car with one of his students and saw what was happening. As I remember from him telling me a few years back he told the student to pull in behind me. The student asked why and he told him "You're getting your first real lesson on how to change a tire." The young mas said "Why?" Mike looked at the young man and asked him "You'd seriously leave a pregnant woman to change a tire on the side of a busy road by herself? Remember this, son, whatever you put into this world is what you're going to get out of it." 

Back to 2020 and Mike Perkins is now a 2nd term State Representative.

I called my son's scout leaders to tell them we would be a little late for our meeting and what was happening. They said it was fine and that they'd see us when we got there. Julie stopped and dropped off Anderson and I told him what was happening. I also introduced him to Maryann. About fifteen minutes later the tow truck arrived and the man from All Time Towing and Recovery immediately put a jack under the car. I removed mine and packed up my car. I gave Maryann a huge hug and she said thank you. She asked what I owed her. I told her I didn't do anything. All I wanted was for her to get home safely. 

I am a lover of country music and one of the songs that sticks out to me is a song by one of my favorite writers, David Lee Murphy. Sure you may know 'Dust on the Bottle' but my absolute favorite song by him is 'The Road You Leave Behind' . It never made it to #1 on the charts but it became #1 in many listeners hearts including mine. The lyrics tell the story of a young David traveling in the backseat of his dad's car when his father stops to change a family's tire in the rain. When David asks why he did it the chorus rings out:

"The road your leave behind you

Is another road you're gonna have to come back down.

It's just the way this big old world turns 'round.

You'll find somehow somewhere someplace sometime

You gotta go back down the road you leave behind."

I remember them stopping. I remember them helping. I remember not taking anything and not asking for it either.

I also know after talking to Mike many years later that the young man never forgot the lesson. I hope Anderson remembers on this day I stopped to try and help and the wonderful officers and business owner who helped as well.

It's a lesson well worth remembering.

True Tales of a Talker #3: The Windy Edition

I was born to talk. Not just talk but sing. Not just sing but singly loudly. And often. So when I’m all alone at work in the morning I take advantage of the empty building and belt it out.

Each morning at 4 am, I wake up, brush my teeth, get dressed and head to the central office of Maine Veterans’ Homes. I’m usually there by quarter to 5. I clock in, take my temperature (it’s required due to the COVID-19), write it down then head to my desk to work. The lights turn on automatically with every step I take. I feel like I am walking onto a stage.

And what a stage it is. A few thousand square feet on hallway, offices and cubicles.

I sit down at my desk and turn on my heater because it is always cold. I use the heater all year long. I keep sweaters, blankets and such nearby. I try to always wear long sleeve shirts, too. During the summer I can usually get by with just the heater blowing.

I plug in my phone, my iPod and my headphones to charge. I log into my computer and get ready to start the day. My days always begin with a song.

While things are booting up I log into my Pandora or Accuradio account and put on music to break the silence. I have always worked better with music. I even studied in school better with it on. The only thing I can’t do with music is fall asleep to it. I wind up singing along whether it’s in my head or out loud. The out loud can make for a very irritable hubby. Silence it is.

There are so many styles of music to choose from. I usually start with the oldies. 50s and 60s are so much fun. I have to travel back and forth to the printer multiple times for the first couple of hours so dancing my way from chair to the printer and back again makes me a much happier employee.

I must admit my dance moves aren’t the most recent but anything that can get you moving and your blood pumping is a great way to start the day. There is definitely time to kill when reports are running  so Motown is my jam. With the downward snapping of the fingers combined with front stepping action and some head bobbing I could have been a Pip or a Coaster or a Top. I put on quite the show.

A show for myself.

Before the pandemic hit, my coworkers would see me from time to time pony from place to place. My earbuds make it possible to take the music with me wherever I go. Jitterbugging down the hallway is always fun. If I meet up with a fellow employee on the way it never stops me from dancing. I am pretty comfortable with myself to keep on keepin’ on.

Music on a phone call really helps put the person on the other end of the line at ease. I remember calling an insurance to discuss a claim and the representative’s name was Wendy. I also have a sister named Wendy. Growing up we were very close (we still are) and with being born in the 70s the song ‘Windy' by The Association was synonymous with her name. If it came on the radio we would sing it at the top of our lungs and Wendy enjoyed it.

This particular Wendy on the other end of the line had a very monotone voice. No inflection nor excitement was heard on my receiver. It sounded like a person who really didn’t want to be working that day. I couldn’t let her day be that sad. Granted, I didn’t know what was happening in her life to make her sound that way but what I COULD do was possibly take away some of the boredom or dissatisfaction of having to talk to me. I had to try, right?

I started out with my usual chipper voice and asked how she was. She said in her flat tone that she was “fine”. I’m a woman and I know that when a woman says she’s “fine” she isn’t.

I decided to pounce on the opportunity of trying my best to make her day. I asked her while she was looking up the information “Wendy, has anyone ever sang a song to you?”

“No, ma’am.” She replied dryly.

I told her “I hope you don’t mind but I can’t resist. I have a sister named Wendy and each time my family heard a certain song we sang it to her.”

She laughed. The laugh that sounded like she didn’t know what she was in for. And she didn’t, I’ll give her that. “Okaaaaay….” It sounded like she thought I was a little crazy. Aren’t we all?

So I started singing “Who’s walking down the streets of the city smiling at everybody she sees? Who’s reaching out to capture a moment? Everyone knows it’s (and I changed the lyric) WENDY!”

There was quiet on the other end of the line.

Finally, there was a burst of laughter!

“Oh my God!” she laughed. “No one has ever done that before!” And she kept on laughing.

I told her ”Wendy, thank you for letting me do that. I miss my sister very much. She lives far away from home and we don’t get to talk often enough. It made my day I could do that!”

She responded “Well, it made my day that you did it.”

After that, the tone of her voice changed, the claim was sent back for reprocessing and it paid a few weeks later. When I got the payment in the mail, I remembered our phone call. With my headphones on I googled the song. I pressed play and the bass guitar started to play. Sitting at my desk I did my best air guitar impression and jammed out. My supervisor walked by at that moment, shook her head and smiled and proceeded to the copier.

Just another normal day at work for this talker.