Honor Thy Father

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you SWEAR you could reach out and touch everything about it? Then you wake up the next day with a song that plays over and over again in your head?

That was me last night and, boy, was it a doozy. It involved baseball, Sidney Poitier and Heaven.

And it was wonderful.

To explain it, I would have to tell you more about my dad.

America’s Favorite Pastime - Baseball

My dad loved baseball. He played it growing up. He used to go to the ballfield with his friends or just play stickball in the street. And, from what he told me, he was pretty good at it. My dad took my brother to the original Shea Stadium in New York for a Mets game (something I am still envious of). He used to love the California Angels because Gene Autry, his favorite singing cowboy, was an owner. And, of course, living in Maine, he was a Red Sox fan. You would find my mom and dad glued to the tv when they played. They also watched the Little League World Series every year.

Sidney Poitier

Growing up, Saturday and Sunday afternoons were filled with my parents watching old movies. One of their favorites starred Sidney Poitier. ‘Lilies of the Field’ won him an Oscar for his portrayal of a handyman whose car breaks down at a small church somewhere in a western desert of the United States. The sisters who run the church hire him as a handyman and have him build a chapel: A chapel they had been praying for and he was the answer to their prayers…in more ways than one.

While giving them an English lesson (the sisters spoke broken English as they had been sent from Germany, Austria and Hungary), they sing a call and response hymn “Amen”. I used to sing that song around the house not knowing that, at that time, my parents gave me my first lesson in the Gospel.

The only thing I knew about God and Jesus was that Jesus was God’s son. The birth of Jesus with Mary and Joseph always came up around Christmastime. My parents had a small crèche they would set up. When we would watch ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ Linus would recite Luke 2: 8-14 from the Bible. It always made me cry yet I didn’t understand why. I never asked and no one ever told me.

Just a few short years before my dad’s passing, I asked him questions about his childhood. He told me how they went to church every Sunday, he sang in the choir and how the choirmaster took him under his wing and taught him to sing. He would then bring my dad around to area businesses and he would make a little money singing songs. The money helped his family. I had found a picture of his choirmaster and when I showed it to him, he couldn’t stop talking. So many memories flooded back to him. I wish I could have wrote them all down. I can only scribble so fast. But the time spent with him telling them was the best part.

Heaven

Although he never preached to us or spoke much about it, the Gospel was a part of his life. My parents had a huge gold-framed picture of Jesus on the wall and a statue of Mother Mary in the yard for their garden. One of the last things he said to me before he passed was “God bless that boy.”  He was referring to a photograph I showed him of my son, Anderson, wearing the tie he had specially made for him for Christmas and dad side by side in matching photos. Even though he could barely see at the end, he saw that picture when he held it up close and he teared up at the sight of it. In a shaky voice on shaky legs he said “God bless that boy.” That is something I’ll never forget.  And I am blessed to have that memory.

People, recently, have asked me personally “Why does God let things happen?” One person was referring to the murders of innocent people going on right now in Israel with their war. Another, why God would take their loved one from them and leave them so alone? Another, why would He let them die from Cancer?

I personally, believe that God doesn’t take people from us. He doesn’t strike people down with sickness. He doesn’t take their life. He is a loving and nurturing God. We were sent here to find our way back to Him. Terrible things happen in life. Heartbreaking, horrible and horrendous things. Some cannot be explained why. When a person dies, I truly believe Jesus and our Heaven Father are there to receive them. My nephew was gone from this Earth too soon but I know Heavenly Father was there to receive him when he arrived in Heaven. He also received my father with open arms. We are left here on Earth to deal with the aftermath. There is no time limit on grieving. Everyone grieves in their own way. While it may not look like I’m grieving, I am. The difference is I know they are together again and watching over us. They are happy. They are healthy. And they are perfect.

So with all this information you may wonder what “The Dream” was all about.

The Dream

It was so vivid. And it all makes so much sense when I think about.

I was walking up the steps through Fenway Park, something I have done many times, to seats along the 3^rd baseline. I could hear music coming from the tunnel. As I came closer the music got louder. When I finally reached the entrance the loudspeakers were blasting “Amen” from the movie. As I stepped closer to the front row I could see players in glowing white uniforms playing ball in the outfield. I watched and saw them throwing baseballs back and forth. One player broke from the team and trotted over to where I was standing. As he came closer it was hard to focus on him because he was so bright. He stopped just a few feet from me and after a few seconds I was able to see him clearly.

It was my dad.

Young, healthy, handsome. Just the way I thought he would be in Heaven.

In the ‘Field of Dreams’ movie, Kevin Costner said Heaven was Iowa. I think it’s Boston, now.

He was wearing a white Boston Red Sox hat but on his uniform above his left breast was a California Angels logo embroidered all in white.  He was tossing the ball in his glove over and over. I asked him “Dad, what’s going on?”

And he got this huge smile on his face. He turned and pointed his glove to the big screen. I looked up at it and there I was. I laughed and waved (Because who doesn’t do that when they see themselves on the big screen?) and said “Okay. What is happening?”

He gestured to me to look again and I did. The screen changed from my face to the words “Thank You” with God and Jesus on each side each giving me a thumbs up. The music got louder and he started to sing along with the song. He started backing away singing all the while and eventually turned and went back to his team.

I woke up to ‘Amen” in my head and it was so loud I googled the video of it and smiled. What a powerful and happy song that it.

What does it all mean?

After pondering all the things it COULD mean, all I can think of is this: I was honoring him. Not only him but my Heavenly Father as well. He was thanking me for believing in our Heavenly Father and his only begotten son, Jesus Christ. He was thanking for helping instill this knowledge in my son. He was thanking me for understanding why he is in Heaven. He was thanking me for not blaming him. He was thanking me for sharing the love my heavenly brother and father have for me.

There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my dad or get on my knees and pray for guidance and comfort in my life. A day I don’t ask my Heavenly Father to open the eyes of the ones that can’t see or refuse to see His love that is right there in front of them. A day I don’t thank Him for the wonderful life I have. It is because of His belief in me and my belief in Him that I can do the things I do, have the things I have, dream the dreams I dream. (Kind of like 1 Corinthians 13:7)

And that dream was the most precious one I could ever have.

 

Set The Hook

                   

Anyone who thinks fishing is easy has never fished with my husband, Chad.

When I grew up my dad took weekend trips to Florida to fish with friends and bring home coolers full of fish for my mother to clean and cook for a fish fry. Chad grew up fishing with his father. He told me stories of turning off a farmer's fence so they could cut across the field to get to the "good" fishing spot. Don't worry, they always turned it back on. His father used to say "I'll pay one of you boys $10 to pee on it." Neither Chad nor his brother, Nate, ever took the chance.

Fishing was all around me in pop culture. I watched Laura Ingalls with a pole and sourdough balls for bait on 'Little House on the Prairie'. My sisters told me how they were too scared to swim at the Milford, Connecticut beach for months because the fake blood used to film the bite scenes in 'Jaws' washed up on the shores when they filmed it in New York. And who could forget Norman and Ethel from 'On Golden Pond'?

Fishing was something I had always wanted to do but never had the opportunity to try.

I didn't pick up a fishing pole until I was around 20. My first catch was a three inch sunfish that I caught up in weeds. I couldn't even reel it in. I may have fished three times since then.

About three years ago, Chad said he wanted to find a canoe and start fishing again. We found one on Facebook Marketplace and we made plans for the weekend to go to Sibley Pond in Canaan. That morning, with no knowledge of how to fish, I wound up catching four bass. I thought to myself "This is so easy. You cast a line, reel it in and, lots of times, there will be a fish on the other end."

Little did I know how wrong that was.

That fall, I would find Chad in the living room watching YouTube channels of people fishing, giving tips and reeling in large bass. There were videos with reviews on poles, lures, worms and frogs. I admit it. I laughed. What can you REALLY learn from people who don't even live near you giving you tips on fishing with products that are probably too expensive to buy?

But over the winter...learn he did.

The next year we upgraded from a canoe to a Sundolphin boat. Ok, it's really a plastic dinghy that we found, again, on Marketplace. It's only eight feet long. There's not a lot of room but it does the trick. We have the system down on where the tackle box goes, the oar, life jackets and his four poles and my two. Chad added a trolling motor, some batteries and an anchor….we are able to fish all day. And everyday, Chad would reel in fish after fish while I would catch just a few.

I was getting better though. He showed me how to hold a bass when I caught one so I wouldn't hurt it. He showed me how to take the hook out (you have to push down with a jerk and it comes out) without using a pair of pliers. He showed me how to tie a hook on a line with a uni knot (you have to spit on it because if you tie it dry it will break). He showed me how to Texas rig my worms and crawfish.

He was showing me so many things that it was hard to remember them all. 

1. Spinner baits can navigate through most anything without getting hung up. 

2. Frogs are top water and you have to jerk them along to make them look like they're hopping. 

3. Crank baits have clear plastic lips on the front of the lure that make them sink. You can't use these in areas with vegetation. 

4. A lipless crank bait has two sets of treble hooks that can seriously injure you. Don't use these in vegetation either. 

5. A weedless jig, his least favorite lure, can be used just about anywhere. 

Those are just some of the things I do remember. It's the ones I forget about in the heat of the moment that frustrate me the most. For example:

1. When you catch your lure on a lily pad you have to push down on it to set it free. I, on the other hand, keep reeling and pulling which only makes it worse.

2. When you have a bass that catches you in the weeds, don't keep pulling because it will just break the line. You not only lose your lure...but you lose the lunker.

3. Wear polarized sunglasses. I always forget to grab them. By the time I remember, we are half way across the pond.

4. Look behind you before you cast. The other person's pole, line or the actual person could be there. If Chad had a nickle for every time I have almost hooked him, he could have bought a brand new bass boat…three times over.

And the biggest thing I forget:

He's been fishing for 40 years. I've been fishing for just under three. 

This year I decided to keep a rolling total of the number of bass we have both caught. A little competition makes things exciting. The tally at the present time is Chad 99, me 50.

That's right. He has (almost) twice the amount of bass as I do.

And it's frustrating!!!

Take today for instance. We headed out early and I was the first one with my line in the water. I had one on and totally didn't set the hook. What happens when you don't set the hook?

You lose your fish.

Approximately one minute after my screw up, Chad lands the first bass of the day. What runs through my mind? The same thing he tells me EVERY time we fish:

"Feel the tug. Let 'em take it. Set the hook."

He tells me this EVERY time. Not to belittle me but to remind me. Again.

After I lose my first fish, I take a deep breath and think od that for the rest of the day.

We came into a batch of lily pads and he put on a frog from a new package that came into the mail the day before. He casted and there was a huge fish that came out of the water right next to his lure. He reeled his line back in quickly and said "Watch this!" 

Sure enough he casted in the same spot. His arms were extended as he slowly reeled and he hesitated for a second. We could see the wake behind the frog. "Here she is!" And he yanked his line. That fish was hooked and he reeled her into the boat. 3.5 pounds of pre-spawn bass was scooped up by me in the net. 

And he did it over and over again.

It was like watching a how-to video in "reel" like. 

After seeing his success, I tried to emulate everything he did. 

And couldn't.

I wasn't frustrated…I was down right mad.

What was he doing that I wasn't? We had the same equipment, the same lure, the same spots. I couldn't understand.

I couldn't set the hook.

I'll admit it. I pouted.

A lot.

I caught a final one by trolling back to the truck. That doesn't count. In fact, our totals from today didn't make it on the board. He had probably 25-30 fish.

I had 4.

I was so upset with myself for catching only four fish in four hours.

Fishing takes knowledge. Fishing take finesse. Fishing takes patience. 

Fishing is hard.

I know I post pictures on Facebook and Instagram of the fish we catch. It IS fun (when you're landing them). What you DON'T see is the hard work that is put into catching them. 

• I have a new respect for fishing men and women. It's not just rippin' lips. Like any profession, it takes time, equipment, knowledge, practice and skill to become, not just good, but great. When someone with as much fishing knowledge as Chad has says something to you, you need to listen. They're not saying it to be a know-it-all. They do it to help you become a better fisher. So, we watch the YouTube videos together, pick up better equipment and try and get out in the dinghy more often. 

"Feel the tug. Let 'em take it. Set the hook."

Remember that.

Tight lines everyone. 

True Tales of a Talker #8: The Repeat Offender

Sometimes it’s fate. Sometimes it’s pure luck. But for whatever reason I get to speak to a certain representative at an insurance company that sure is a pleasure to talk to.

I started working at Maine Veterans’ Homes in January of 2015. I got off to a slow start; even thought I wanted to quit after the first three days until my husband told me to suck it up. No, really, he did. I came home crying thinking I couldn’t do this job and he asked me “Do you like what you do?” I told him yes. He said “Then don’t cry about it. Ask for help. Figure it out.” So, I pulled up my big girl undies and went to work with a new attitude the next day and have never looked back.

Over the first few months I got the hang of it and, you can ask my supervisor, I started cleaning up accounts like wildfire! I was doing my job and enjoying myself. I was calling insurance companies, demanding my claims process and the payments were coming in. I was even cleaning up the accounts of our other homes besides the one I was assigned to. The part of the job that took the most work and most of my time was Mainecare. There were plenty of accounts that had balances because of not having cost of care letters in the system. I would have to lug these giant binders out of a cupboard and go through them one by one to find them. If we didn’t have the correct ones, I would call or email the DHHS workers and ask for them. The claims that needed to be reprocessed or the questions I had on them would have to be called on.

That’s when I met HER.

When Theetra answers a call, she is happy and always willing to help. The first few phone calls I made to Mainecare she would answer. She was always so helpful and she knew who to ask or was able to decipher what either we or the system was doing wrong.  As we worked on the claims together we got to know each other too. In fact, I would go home from work and my stepdaughter, Jayden, would ask “Did you talk to Theetra today?” And I would say yes. When I told Theetra this it really made her day. Even now, she asks about Jayden and I ask about her daughter, Ella. Having little girls in our lives in another thing we get to share.

With the communication system they now have at Mainecare, they are able to see which workers are online and email them directly to find a quick answer. Often times if she can’t find the problem her coworker Bruce can. (I call him Mr. Bruce. He just sounds like a Mr. Bruce.) She gets the answer right away and I fix the claims and get them paid.

At the end of every phone call she expresses that it was wonderful to talk to me and I tell her the same. When you have a rapport with a person it shows and things get done.

So now, when I call Mainecare, and I hear the standard greeting ‘This is Theetra. How may I help you?” I respond “THEETRA!!!” And she says “Sharon! I was HOPING it was you! How are you, girl?”

And the call begins.

True Tales of a Talker #7: The Car Payment Collector

I never did have much luck with cars.

My husband and I leased a vehicle knowing I would most likely be over the mileage by the time the lease was up. We were going to buy it outright so I tried not to go very far over the limit. Unfortunately, family life had its way for helping me rack up the miles. We didn't want to but sometimes it would be me making the trips back and forth to Auburn more than once a week. Those miles can really add up quickly but there was no other choice at the time. It was such a great vehicle and I enjoyed driving it. I was hoping to have it for a long time.

Until the engine blew up over just over 2,000 past the warranty and two days shy of the lease being up.

Fast forward through the arguing with the dealership, finding proof of the engine known for being faulty, negotiating with the dealership and then calling the head office of the maker of the vehicle and I was fortunate to be put in a used vehicle that I had to buy outright with the $7,000 for the new engine of my old car factored in. 

In other words, I got screwed.

While paying for the "new" used car, I got a phone call six months later on a Thursday asking me for the money to pay for the overage of miles. I had forgotten that was even a thing. Since it went back to the dealership (and they auctioned it off for the bargain price of $4,000), it was completely out of my mind. You can imagine the shock of thinking there is another bill to pay on my already stretched income. They wanted $18,000!

At four o'clock in the afternoon the repayment center shuffled me around from representative to representative until a woman came on the line by the name of Audrey M. She listened to my story, the sniffling and the down right ugly crying. Do you know what the first thing she said to me was?

"Miss Sharon, I am going to make something happen for you."

And I believed her.

After forty-five minutes of sitting in my car talking to her and relaying the story of what had happened with the vehicle and the true situation of our finances, we connected with her supervisor, Carol. 

Little did I know how incredible that "something" would be. 

Miss Audrey had me retell the story to Carol. Then they said they were going to place me on hold. After being on hold for another twenty minutes (but being updated every five minutes that they were still working on things), Miss Audrey came back on the line. She said in a hushed voice "Now, I know I shouldn't tell you this, Miss Sharon, but your story touched me. I know what it's like to be in tough situations but I can tell you have an honest heart. I can tell you're not one of those people who would lie into getting a better deal. I can feel that from you. So I talked with Carol. Carol's last day at her position before taking the next step in the company is tomorrow. I asked her to do the impossible for you. And she did."

What did she do?

I was informed that she would cut the bill by eighty-five percent IF I could pay twenty payments of a negotiated amount of just over one hundred dollars a month.

That was it? 

What about the rest of it?

The rest would be forgiven. 

While still on the phone, Miss Audrey sent me the paperwork to sign. I signed it and sent it back by email right away. She then sent it to Carol who signed off on it as well. They sent me a copy.

Carol then came back on the line with us and said "This was my final act as supervisor. I think I made the good choice by making this deal. Everyone needs a break sometimes and, after talking with you, I can tell this was the right thing to do." She wished us well and hung up.

It was like a miracle!

Every month for the next twenty months I called Miss Audrey directly. She gave me her extension and I made the monthly payment with her. With each phone call, she would ask how my family was, how my band was doing and if my work was going well. In the thousands of phone call she received each month, she never forgot me.

And I'll never forget her.

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.  

True Tales of a Talker #2: The NY Edition

Another day at work and another tale to tell.

When you deal with insurance companies you are eventually going to get some characters. This phone call did not disappoint. This customer service representative even had ties to Maine.

From my cubicle at Maine Veterans' Homes, I called United Healthcare for help with a stubborn claim. You can call them stubborn when it takes multiple phone calls and over a year to have the insurance company FINALLY see where they’ve gone wrong and pay a claim according to the guidelines associated with it. Stubborn little things. I hate it when they hang around for longer than they’re supposed to...like black fly season.

As the call connected, I would have bet my last dollar I heard a New York accent on the other end saying “Thank you for cawling You-neyed-ed Healthcare. This is” for this instance we’ll call her ‘Rhonda’ “Rhonda. How are you doin’ today?” That last part sounded like a legit imitation of Joey Tribiani on F*R*I*E*N*D*S.

I answered “Absolutely fabulous, Rhonda! How about you?”

“Oh, well, that is fabulous to hear! I’m doin’ alright! How may I help you?”

I poured out my claim troubles to ‘Rhonda’ and she was ready to help. While giving her all the information she would ever need and then some, she went to work researching the phone calls I had previously made and dug into the claim like the Golden Girls digging into their nightly cheesecake.

While she was scanning her system for information, I asked her if she was working from home. She revealed that she had been working from home since March and was glad she was. Living near Tampa, she felt safer working from home. With Florida being one of the hotspots of the COVID-19 pandemic, she hadn’t been to the gym or the beach since the lockdowns had started. She was really sad about it because in the beginning of the year (my guess it was probably due to a New Year’s resolution) she wanted to get healthy so she started going to the gym 4 to 5 times a week. In the 3 months prior to the pandemic, she had lost 40 pounds and was so proud. Now, she was home with her teenage son and her cats and searching for a treadmill to get back on track of her fitness regimen.

She also missed going to the beach and I told her I used to live in Saint Petersburg for three years. I could hear her typing away as she said she didn’t understand why everyone thinks Clearwater Beach is better than Saint Pete Beach. I totally agreed with her. I used visit John’s Pass and visit the Red Skelton store (which no longer exists).  

The one thing I regretted not seeing in Florida when I lived there was a rocket launch. I asked her if she watched the NASA Atlas V launch with the Perseverance Rover aboard this morning. She said with living a few hours away and starting work as early as she does she was unable to. I told her I had signed up my son and myself on the names to go to Mars and we were on that ship! She asked me if I had seen and I said yes. She then assumed I lived in Florida. I said “No, ma’am, I live in Maine.”

That’s when the joy in her voice became full blown.

‘Rhonda’ jumped at the chance to say she loved Maine. She grew up in Brooklyn (I KNEW IT!) and used to summer in Maine with her family. Coming from the city to driving to rural Maine where her cousins lived in trailers with acres of land with trees and streams was a complete shock to her. Hearing her say that it was so QUIET in Maine made me think how lucky we are we have this kind of peace. She could see the stars and while she was here it was her only time seeing fireflies. She looked forward to visiting every summer. Autumn was quite another trip for her. Her family would head north for the fall foliage and she remembered visiting the pumpkin patches and drinking apple cider. It was her favorite time of year. If you have ever heard of the Fresh Air Fund, the exuberance for Maine in her voice must be how those children feel when they travel here to get away from inner city life for just a few weeks. A few hours north and a completely different world. One that ‘Rhonda’ looks back on with fondness.

As we concluded our phone call with the claim being sent back to be reprocessed with all the information I had given her she gave me my reference number. Then the words I love to hear came through my headset:

“Thank you for cawling You-neyed-ed Healthcare. It was a pleasure tawking with you, Sharon. I hope you stay safe and have a blessed day.”

You too, Rhonda. You too.

A Boy and His Books

When the pandemic started and the kids were kept home from school the remote learning started. I had bought all these wonderful workbooks to keep my son's brain stimulated but not overly. He thought it was great that "summer vacation" started early but was sad that he wouldn't see his teachers or his friends until the next school year (hopefully). He would miss his eighth grade graduation and the finals of the state portion of the National Geography BEE of which he was so proud to be a part of. I believe he had a good chance at placing. He loves geography.

The biggest thing I was worried about was his love of reading. I was afraid that he would lose it with not being assigned a book to read and do a project on. Mr. Morin's class was always fun for him and the projects he assigned were sometimes family oriented where we could all participate. We once went around our town of Pittsfield, Maine to shoot a small film. He edited it and it came out hilarious!

His assignments included the writing of stories. He was given a topic and then had to write a story around it. In most of them he included the character of Garfield the cat. He and his uncle Ray would watch the cartoon together a lot. So much so that Ray calls him 'Garfield' just for fun. The stories were cute and really made him stretch his imagination. Being descriptive when writing was difficult for him but it had come a long way since the beginning of the year.

So what could I do? I remembered that he still had a Kindle that my friend Lynne had given him a few years ago. On it were downloaded books of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Dog Man and Geronimo Stilton. I thought it was time for him to upgrade his reading level. I went online and found numerous blogs and articles on the books kids should read, specifically boys. They ranged from the classics to newer Newbery Award winners. I had heard of a few on the lists but many I had to do a little research on. I decided to make a compilation of the lists and then add in some of my favorites. When presented with it, Anderson said it was a good one. I took that as high praise from a kid that was going to have to read all summer. We went through it together.

He was able to show me which ones he had already read in school. Six was a good start! I told him we still had the copy of "The Indian in the Cupboard" by Lynne Reid Banks that used to be his Uncle Nate's. He said if Uncle Nate had read it then it had to be good. If that was his philosophy he was going to be pretty happy when he found out which book his stepdad, Chad, had read. I didn't know until I made the list and showed it to Chad that he had read the three books in The Black Stallion series as a kid.

So the reading began. After "The Indian in the Cupboard" came 'The Call of the Wild' by Jack London. We watched the new movie with Harrison Ford after. When it was over he said it was kind of like the book but it was missing "a whole bunch of stuff". Overall he liked it. He looked at the list and saw another Jack London book: 'White Fang'. He asked if it had a dog in it and I told him yes. Off to the Kindle we went and downloaded it right away.

For the weeks we didn't have enough to buy a book on the Kindle, Anderson would ride his bike to the Pittsfield Public Library to check out the book he wanted. He would take his phone with him in case there were any problems. There never were but he took it just in case. My thought is he wanted to catch a few Pokémon along the way. That was fine with me.

He was on a schedule. His bedtime is ten o'clock so at nine at night I would tell him to get his book and he could stay up and read until ten.  He does this every night. Not only is it good for him but reading just before bed makes you sleepy. He gets a great night's sleep every night. Sometimes he reads a chapter, sometimes two. I ask him every morning what went on in the book last night and he tells me. I always ask "Are you enjoying this book?" Sometimes it's a yes...sometimes it's an "It's okay". But not once has he ever said no. By the third or fourth chapter it's always a yes.

If there is a movie made about the book he has read then we watch it directly after. He has come to realize that you can't put an entire book into a two hour movie. But they did succeed in one.

'Old Yeller' by Fred Gipson has, so far, been just like the book. Disney did a great job with it including using dialog word for word in some spots. Both he and Chad had never seen the movie. I had watched it numerous times as child. I thought my crying at the pivotal scene would be nonexistent. Nope. This woman was a blubbering mess much to the delight of Anderson and Chad.

With four months of reading gone by and Anderson only being with me every other week he has completed fourteen books. Not every book on our list is serious in nature. Some are outright fun to read. He is currently on "Where the Red Fern Grows" by Wilson Rawls. Another movie this mom may need tissues for. And that's okay. The more books he reads, the more movies we'll watch together and the more things we have to talk about and discover.

Here is our list of books that you can use to start your child's reading list if you wish.

TITLE	AUTHOR
A Long Way from Chicago	Richard Peck
A Separate Peace	John Knowles
A Wrinkle in Time	Madeleine L’Engle
Artemis Fowl	Eoin Colfer
Blue Skin of the Sea	Graham Salisbury
Bridge to Terabithia	Katherine Paterson
Calvin and Hobbes	Bill Watterson
Canoeing with the Cree	Arnold Sevareid
Captains Courageous	Rudyard Kipling
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory	Roald Dahl
David Copperfield	Charles Dickens
Diary of a Wimpy Kid	Jeff Kinney
Ender’s Game	Orson Scott Card
Geronimo Stilton	Elisabetta Dami
Goosebumps	R.L. Stine
Harris and Me	Gary Paulsen
Harry Potter	JK Rowling
Hatchet	Gary Paulsen
Heart of a Champion	Carl Deuker
Heat	Mike Lupica
Holes	Louis Sachar
I Survived	Lauren Tarshis
James and the Giant Peach	Roald Dahl
Lord of the Rings Trilogy	J. R. R. Tolkien
Maniac Magee	Jerry Spinelli
My Side of the Mountain	Jean Craighead George
Old Yeller	Fred Gipson
Red Badge of Courage	Stephen Crane
Rocket Boys	Homer Hickham, JR
Shiloh	Phyllis Reynold Naylor
That Was Then, This is Now	S.E. Hinton
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn	Mark Twain
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer	Mark Twain
The American Boy’s Handy Book	Daniel Beard
The Art of Manliness	Brett and Kate McKay
The Black Stallion	Walter Farley
The Blue Star	Tony Earley
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas	John Boyne
The Boy Scouts Handbook
The Call of the Wild	Jack London
The Cay	Theodore Taylor
The Chocolate War	Robert Cormier
The Chronicles of Narnia	C.S. Lewis
The Complete Maus	Art Spiegelman
The Dangerous Book for Boys	Conn and Hal Iggulden
The Giver	Lois Lowry
The Graveyard Book	Neil Gaiman
The Hardy Boys Series (1-5)	Franklin Dixon
The Indian in the Cupboard	Lynne Reid Banks
The Invention of Hugo Cabret	Brian Selznik
The Johnny Dixon Series	John Bellairs
The Last Mission	Harry Mazer
The Little Britches Series	Ralph Moody
The Lord of the Flies	William Golding
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane	Kate DiCamillo
The Neverending Story	Ralph Manhein
The Outsiders	S.E. Hinton
The Phantom Tollbooth	Norton Juster
The Story of King Arthur and His Knights	Howard Pyle
The Thief of Always	Clive Barker
The Trumpet of the Swan	E.B. White
To Build A Fire	Jack London
To Kill A Mockingbird	Harper Lee
Treasure Island	Robert Louis Stevenson
Watership Down	Richard Adams
Where the Red Fern Grows	Wilson Rawls
White Fang	Jack London
Wonder	R.J. Palacio
Wonderstruck	Brian Selznik