The end of an era

For over a year, I my car has been burning oil.  At first I was putting two bottles of oil in every two weeks. Since the school year started, I have been putting oil in it every three days or so.  I could tell by just listening to it when it was bone-dry.  I felt special.

I felt a real connection to that car.  We've been through a lot together since spring 2000.

Friday morning I was on the way to work and when I got the stop light about 200m from the school building, the light turned red.  My car started to shake like my dad's old diesel Benz.  It was still pitch black as it was about 6:45 in the morning, but I assumed that the cars around me must have thought I was bumping to some really good music.

I carefully drove the car the rest of the way to the lot.

After school, the car started shaking as soon as I turned the ignition.

I turned it off and called the boyfriend to see what he thought of it.  Of course, his reaction was that my car had been broke for a long time.

It has never been like this, though.

I drove to the local 7-11.  When I got there, I checked the oil level, poured some more oil in and started it back up.  Now, the gas pedal had no effect on the car's movement.

Somehow, I got the car to move to the Midas that has become my go to place - about 15 minutes away on the roads (no way I was going to get on the highway).  The guys there know me by name and car.  They don't even charge me for some services since I have been there so much.  At one point there was something wrong with the car that they couldn't figure out.  They sent me to the dealer, but they had no idea.  Mike and Jamie (Midas guys) told me to tell them what the dealers discovered with their higher-tech tools.  But they continued to research and figured out what even Toyota's tools couldn't discover.

When I got to Midas, Mike looked at the car.  Called me in to the garage about 15 minutes after he started and gave me the news.

There were two options... either a new engine (could run 2500-4500 USD) or a new car.

So, it is official.

The Rolly-san is dead.

I have to find a new (or new for me) car.

Used sanitary napkins - come on!

I have seen some pretty disgusting acts people do.  I am a teacher and work around young people.

I guess, though, that I have been ignorant of the fact that there are so many nasty adults in the world.

That is why I am so intrigued by the shows Hoarders and Buried Alive.  It is really something to think that people can keep so much stuff and that some of them can live in such filth.

I thought I had really seen it all when I saw a lady on one of the shows that had animal feces all over the house and a white toilet that was almost as black as my ebony hair.

That was...

until...

I read this:

Do you often encounter the far extreme of hoarding, like where people actually keep everything?

Yes, we do. In fact, in one of the first groups we ran there was a woman who saved used sanitary napkins and her argument was that she was going to dry them out and use them again. We also had another person who saved everything - parts of her body, everything that came into her house. She had used band aids stuck on the bathroom wall. The first time I was there she worked on at least trying to take them off the bathroom wall and it was just excruciating for her. She was crying and just in horrible pain pulling these band aids off the wall and putting them into a box. The hair that was collected in the bathtub was equally difficult for her to get rid of.

(Emphasis mine)

From an article on titled "Hoarding: How Collecting Stuff Can Destroy Your Life".

I know some people are not overly clean.  But, I thought grown-folks were at least half-way decent.

I understand that there is some sort of disfunction going on in these peoples' minds, but this is ridiculous - and just plain disgusting.

Yesterday after reading this, I cleaned the bathroom, washed the dishes, emptied the refrigerator, shredded some papers, and gathered together at least 8 items of clothing and 3 accessories that I have not used in the past few months to give away today.

Help me understand the logic

This is what I'm working with:

• A teacher told students to double space their paper. One student turned in a paper that was single-spaced, but typed with a word, then two spaces, then a word, then two spaces.  I teach high school.  Really makes me wonder who the kid was.  Is it a student who has never done an assignment before?  Was the kid sitting as s/he typed just pissed off at the teacher thinking of how stupid and pointless it was to have to focus on hitting the space bar twice between each word?
• One of my athletes had to miss the last weekend track meet because her sister was coming in town.  The school is in St. Louis County.  Her sister goes to Webster University - also in StL.  She said her sister doesn't live at home and it was going to be a big deal for her when she came over.  I'm sure she spent every minute that she would have been competing catching up with her sister that clearly does not want to keep in contact if it is that big a deal for her to come home from within a 20-mile radius from her parents' home.
• I saw an old, really good friend at a recent track meet in Festus, MO.  As we stood catching up, an athlete came and proceeded to tell me that as he was running his race, he felt his lower leg break in half.  This while he is just finished jogging up the hill to me and is standing on both of his legs with no looks of intense pain, and no bone marrow dripping from where his leg snapped in half.
• One of the students in my school got picked to be Made by MTV.  Pretty cool, especially since she is an excellent student.  When the MTV lady came by today to do some interviews with students, of course the most annoying person in my classes was there and he wanted to pretend he is her boyfriend.  Because, I'm sure, with all the taping the show will do of her before May, they will not get actual footage of her talking with her real boyfriend.  Is it horrible of me to hope that the footage of him gets cut from the show?  (If her episode makes the cut)
• A guy who stays on the same street as me has been parked on one side of the street for a long time.  One of those really big older American cars with custom paint and some expensive rims.  No door handle on the outside -- that would mess up the smooth exterior look.  He moved the car to the other side of the street.  I guess he was keeping it on the one side of the street so that everyone wouldn't see that he had rims only on one side of the car.  The other side just had regular hub caps.  Hopefully he will save up some money and get the other pair of rims.

There is so much more, but thinking about it all at one time makes my head hurt and makes me want to scream or something.  Perhaps another day I will share more of my youngsters' antics

Guns, hold-ups, and family

I love my family.  I know I don't tell them that enough, and I sometimes don't talk with them extensively for long periods of time, but I truly love each person in my family -- immediate, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, in-laws, all of them.

I know I sometimes try to play hard, not be emotional, but I am actually quite sensitive to what happens to them.

I have wanted to write about this event since it first happened, but emotions got the best (or worst) of me.  I didn't know how to word it all, still don't really.  I have gone from shock, to anger, to sorrow, to wishing I could be there to hug them all, to anger, to disappointment that these things happen, to sorrow, to anger, and now finally a semblance of semi-peace.

All I know is that I am happy that it turned out ok.

I will let Kid Sis #2 share what happened with her in her own words:

As many of you know, I spent the last week of March in Nigeria. The trip went well, with the exception of one 2-hour period. Prior to our trip, so many of our friends and family expressed concern about the risks of kidnapping, as kidnapping has become the M.O. of too many Nigerians lately. I flippantly dismissed those concerns; I’ve been going to Nigeria all my life, and have never felt unsafe. On Palm Sunday, I was in my aunt’s home in Port Harcourt with my mother in law and my son. My husband had just left to go to Lagos. We had just finished breakfast, when two men cam into the dining area with our very frightened looking cook. One had a long knife, and the other held a small gun. The men asked me where my husband was, and who else was in the house. They then shuttled us into a bedroom, and proceeded to tear up wrappers and bedsheets to use to tie my Mumsie’s and the cook’s hands, feet, and mouths. Chinedu and I were not tied up. Next were the gateman and his two friends; they were brought into the room, pushed and kicked to the ground and tied up.

As Chinedu and I were not tied up, my fear was that they were planning on taking him or both us of away, to be held for ransom. As I mentioned earlier, kidnapping has become too popular in Nigeria, and the American firstborn son would likely be capable of providing a large ransom. While the others were in the bedroom on the floor, the men took me to my own bedroom, and began ransacking our bags, looking for money, jewelry, and any other thing of value. One of the men fondled me, and told me that when he was finished with me, my husband would be too ashamed to ever touch me again. I am usually pretty even keeled, but have never been so frightened in my life. My body was literally shaking. Chinedu, who I held the whole time, was also frightened. He held onto me tight for the entire period, not moving, and did not say a single word or cry. Any one who knows my son knows that this is not his usual state. 

While they were removing our valuables from the room, a car came up to the gate. My heart sank, as I knew it was my uncle, with his wife and three children, who had come to take me to church. They were brought into the house, and tied up as well after the armed robbers took their phones, money, and gold jewelry. As they restarted the search for valuables in the house, another visitor, a small boy, came. He was soon followed by his mother and sister. At this point, the robbers were obviously flustered. They did not see my husband or the owner of the house (both were out of town), yet visitors were steadily coming. At this time there were 15 of us being held hostage. They kept asking why visitors were coming, and how many more we were expecting. A third man was outside of the house, and with each new arrival would call anxiously, wanting to know what to do. They were also frustrated by the locked master bedroom door, which they were unable to break open. As the hostages began to desperately beg for the ties to be loosened, the men yelled threats; namely that they would beat them and take Chinedu away and leave him on the side of the street in Aba if they were not quiet. With the threat to Chinedu’s life, every time a hostage made a sound, my heart ached at the possibility that they would harm him.

During the ordeal, I kept repeating one of the memory verses from my Wednesday night bible study: “Cast all your anxieties on Him, because he cares for you.” (1Peter 5:7). Praying this verse helped me stay calm. My mother in law was also continually praying. At one point, the ties on her hands became so tight that she could not stand the pain. After praying, she felt a peace, the ties on her hands loosened, as well as the tie around her mouth. My uncle had told the robbers at one point that he was suffocating, and needed the tie around his mouth loosened. They did not loosen his ties, but he also said that after he prayed, he felt a peace come over him. The tie around his mouth and nose came down so he could breathe better.

One of the robbers was playing the “nice guy” to the other’s “bad guy.” He did not tie up my sick cousin despite the older man’s orders, and he claims that he told the older man (who had touched me) not to rape me. He also said that I was left untied so that I could untie the others when they left. Despite these overtures, this was still an individual who was kicking women and children, and brandishing a knife. Finally, the men left with two bags of our belongings. Initially we were not sure they were gone, and were afraid to start untying in case they returned. After the house was silent for some time, I started untying the group. And while I finally broke down in tears at the stress of the ordeal after everyone was untied, I was struck by the immediate response of the others: praising God. My aunt even took the cloth that had been used to tie as a testimony to give to others, and has been showing them to people wherever she goes.

As I wiped my tears away, I began to grasp God’s mercy. We could have been kidnapped, raped, and the men could have made good on their threats to shoot us. My husband could have been present, and injured or killed if the men were not satisfied with the money he showed them. My uncle, the owner of the home could have been in the house. The men had mentioned him by name, and admitted that they would have seriously dealt with him if he had been there. And my greatest fear of all, that they would harm my son, was not fulfilled.

Since this happened, we have had such an outpouring of love and prayers from family and friends. Everyone is apologetic that we had to have the experience. While it was obviously unpleasant and traumatic, every single time I reflect on what happened, I am overcome by gratefulness that no one was seriously harmed. We have some bruises and emotional scars among us, but none of the other physical threats were carried out. And while initially was upset that my cousins had come to the house and experienced this episode, most have said it was a good thing that they were there, as the steady stream of visitors made the men leave as quickly as possible. Every time I am sad about the loss of material things (cash, digital camera, portable DVD player, my two absolute favorite pairs of shoes, my engagement ring, beautiful jewelry my mother in law gave me, my favorite wrapper, all of the phones of those present, all of the gold jewelry from the women . . . ), I simply look at my son. My beautiful son, whom they did not lay a single finger on. Whom they could have kidnapped, but did not touch; they were not even close enough to him to see that he was wearing a gold chain that his grandmother had just given him.

God is real. And he was watching over us that day. Many of my friends do not believe in God, and do not like public proclamations of His glory. But I am compelled to tell this story not so people feel sorry for us, but to praise His name. Thank you to all of you who have been praying both before and after the robbery. We appreciate your love and support. The remainder of the trip went amazingly well, and yes, I will go back to Nigeria in the future.

My uncle for a time could not breath as he was laying on the ground.  He already has some breathing problems, and laying on his stomach gagged was not helping.  But he is ok.  My uncle who lives in the house is ok.  I has other living places in some other cities and I hope that he will be all right where ever he is.

Thinking of, and visualizing it all still brings up emotions that are really jolting.

Three -- an old school poem

An old poem I wrote freshman year in college.  I was cleaning out some old stuff and ran across some old 3 1/2" disks.  Unfortunately I erased some of the ones that may have had more poems on them before really looking at what their contents were -- including a poem I won money for senior year in high school.

I'm not sure what I was writing about, but it is still a decent poem.

Three 

In that place i could see

seven stars in the sky

    i had designed

    my own prison

    then something happened

         the walls disolved

         and the sky collapsed

I’ve never known anything so great

as that feeling

            the kind so bad

            you wouldn’t wish

            your worst enemy

    once you feel it      though

       it’s different

            you wish it to anyone

            anyone -- your worst enemy

            even your best friend

    and you mean it

    crazy thing is

            you always knew this

                    you meant it

The walls are gone now

and taking another look up

i realize that really

         one’s a satallite

         two are planes

         and another a paint splash

                on the window

                from when i redecorated

In this place

             i    can    see

I will be a rock star parent

Despite some occasional fears about my ability to be a good parent, as each day passes and I see/read what other people do with their children, I realize that I will be a rock-star parent when given the chance.

A US soldier is charged with assault after waterboarding his child.  For not reciting the ABCs.

Waterboarding.  A four-year old.

For not saying her letters.

A teacher today told me that she heard of a parent who took her young children to a self-service car wash and sprayed the kids with the water for a punishment. As though she is a cop from the 1950s and 1960s.

What?!

I will be grand at parenting.

I understand that kids can be frustrating at times.  I have seen them in public, I have baby sat them, I teach over 100 of them each semester every school year.

I know I will be at better than these and other people.  Including the pastor who pulled a gun on his kid due to the kids lack of attendance at church.  Or the parent who executed his naked son over an argument.