One More Day

Such a beautiful day today! Clear skies, gentle breeze. I have one more day on my current work schedule (3 to 11 PM tonight) before I have two days off. I enjoyed working the last four days. It has been awhile since I worked five consecutive days. I was unsure of how it would affect me but, apparently, I am managing. I'm even enjoying it! Working days is quite different than working evenings. Both are interesting but different. Prior to taking semi retirement a few years ago, I worked full time for approximately 43 years. My first job was running errands for my relatives in the apartment building I lived in on Washington Avenue, in Downingtown, Pennsylvania. I was only four years old at that time. Later, during school, I worked as a paper boy, office cleaner and weekends at Marty Brill's Meat Counter at the Downingtown Farmer's Market. I also worked as a dishwasher, gardener (read that as "weed puller") and orchard picker. Then it was three years service int he U. S. Army as a communications intercept specialist. After my Army service, I had a short time job as a hotel night auditor at the Pittsburgh Hilton Hotel in Pittsburgh, PA. Leaving Pittsburgh, I returned to Downingtown and got a job as a accounts payable clerk at Lipsett Steel Products in Coatesville, PA. After about three years I got my "dream job" in a major city bank - Girard Bank, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. For 37 years I worked at five different banks before returning to the hospitality industry. In 2001 I began working as a night auditor at the Hampton Inn in Exton, Pennsylvania. Eventually I worked my way "up" to front desk clerk and sales associate. I now work at a boutique hotel in Lewes, Delaware. Up until last week I only worked two nights a week and filled in where necessary due to absences and schedule changes. Recently I was asked if I could fill in for the front desk clerk who was about to go on pregnancy leave. I agreed and here I am, back to working full time at 66 years old. Perhaps the main difference this time is I love where I work, who I work with, and the kind of work I do (I love meeting people and providing service for them.) And, this is very important, the commute is excellent! Now I have to get ready for work.

Working Full Time

Hey folks! I'm working full time at the Inn for the next six weeks. I'm filling in for the regular day front desk person who had her baby last night. Thus I continue my work pattern of over 50 years. In 1965, my first job at Girard Bank in Philadelphia, I fill in for the pregnant remittance clerk. She never came back after her baby was born (and I never met her either) and thus, my banking career began. It ended a few years back at another bank, with a whimper. I won't be working at this job for the next fifty years. However, I will be taking some absences from my daily blog postings. Hang in there if you're a regular reader. I'll be back when I can.

Sasha Goes Home

Remember Sasha? She is the young Russian woman who is part of the summertime work force from eastern European countries that descends upon the Rehoboth Beach, DE/Ocean City, MD resorts to supplement the workforce. These young men and women from such countries as Russia, Bulgaria, Romania, and Belarus work as waiters and waitress, bussers, hotel room attendants, and store clerks. Many of them hold two jobs. When I first posted a blog about Sasha, she was shy, inexperienced and tentative. She had just begun her job at the boutique hotel in Lewes, DE where I work as a front desk clerk. She joined an already entrenched workforce mostly made of local Nanticoke Indians. From my viewpoint it didn't seem like an immediate "fit." In addition to working in a foreign country and learning the English language, she now had the challenge of working with an ethnic group of which she probably knew nothing about. However, she quickly adapted and soon was working harmoniously along Dee, Tasha, Amber, Crystal and Dawn with a smile on her pink cheeked face. Sasha soon developed a reputation for dependability and productiveness. It was with pleasure those days when I worked and Sasha would sweep by the front desk with her two-toned pink backpack to clock in. After clocking in she would go into the ladies' room and change into her working cloths. Then the kitchen door would bust open with Sasha pushing her blue canvas laundry cart. With a list of rooms to clean firmly grasped in her left hand, and with both hands on her cart, she goes to elevator. A bit later, the elevator doors open and Sasha emerges with her laundry cart full of dirty sheets and towels. Sasha repeats this routine until all the dirty laundry is now in washing machines. Several hours later, Sasha folds the dried sheets and towels. Now she is ready for her second job at a local gift shop. This girl has energy! Well, last night was her last day of work. She stopped by the front desk and said goodbye to me in her slightly accented English (she speaks very good English - I wonder how well I could speak Russian is the situation was reversed?) I could tell that she was glad to be going home. I asked if I could take a picture of her. She agreed. That picture is in this blog. She then asked to take my picture. I was flattered. I don't get a whole lot of requests these days to have my picture taken. I asked for her e-mail address so I could send her a copy. I have so much respect for these foreign students who go to such great lengths to come to this country to work and do such a wonderful job. They are just another reason why I am glad I retired to Delaware.

106,000 Miles

Today, as I was driving back from a friend's house in Rehoboth Beach, my odometer turned over 106,000 miles. A few minutes before my friend pointed out that I dripped oil on his brand new white cement driveway. I told him "No way!" and to prove it, I got in my car and moved it from where I was parked in front of his house to show him that I wasn't dripping oil. Oops! There, on the asphalt roadway were three telltale signs of oil. Egad. I backed up my car and there again, was another drop of oil. Okay. So I was in denial. A few weeks ago I took my car into a local garage to have them check out the oil leak. It wasn't leaking a lot but it does leak a few drops every day. The mechanic checked it out and told me (I'm terrible at this kind of thing) something about the drive train and fan or something like that. He gave me an estimate of $1,450 for them to "attempt" to fix it (no guarantee). He did mention that I had over 105,000 miles on my 1998 Subaru Forester. Hmmmmm. Is he saying my car is old (like me)? I decided not to get anything done at that time. I would live with the occasional oil leak. However, when my friend pointed out to me today the steady leak, I'm thinking maybe I better consider getting a new set of wheels to take me into the sunset years of my amazing life. My previous car was a Honda Civic. I had that car for 14 years and 56,000 miles. I keep cars a long time. I'm very fond my my red Subaru Forester. It was love at first sight when I first saw it. We've been through a lot together, me and my red Subaru Forester. I love this car but I've been thinking about getting a new car anyway before things start to go wrong like dominoes with this car. I've been thinking about a Toyota Prius from the time a friend offered me a ride in his last winter. Besides the great gas mileage, the interior of the car is roomy and comfortable. Due to my height and long legs (longer than Michael Phelps), leg room is a serious consideration for me. Also, I would like to have a GPS navigation system. A co-worker of mine also was starting to have problems with her car last week. She got it fixed when her engine light came on. Shortly thereafter something else went wrong with her car. She decided she needed dependability more than she needed to avoid putting out bucks for a new car. She took the plunge and bought a new car and is now very happy. I'm 66 years old. I figure this new car will last me at least another 10 years. That should take me well into my sunset. At least I want to do it in style. Now if I can just get it in fire engine red.

Ron's Gardens Summer 2008

Is My Sun Setting?

January 3, 2008 I entered the Beebe Medical Center with an unbearable pain in my right side. Later it was discovered I was passing a kidney stone. Believe me, if you haven't passed a kidney stone, this is something you don't want to do. If our official government torturers knew how to replicate this pain, there would be no need for waterboarding suspected terrorists. During that emergency stay, I had an MRI scan performed on my body. It wasn't until a few nights ago that I read the full report. What I read confirmed what I suspected for a long time, I'm getting old! I am literally starting to fall apart. My 1998 Subaru Forester has over 105,000 miles on it, I expect it to start falling apart. In that case I can get a new car. Not so with my body. This is my one and only body. I think I've taken pretty good care of it in my lifetime but I am 66 years old. I'm afraid the wear and tear of the past 66 years is beginning to show. The MRA report says "there are multiple calculi in both kidneys." That means I still have kidney stones. Oh God! Not again. This is a result of my lifelong habit of not drinking enough water. I've tried to drink more water since I found this out but I fear I'm still not drinking enough. Even so, that won't help clear up the "calculi" that is now in both kidneys. My doctor tells me they will pass one way or another. Either in small granules or, heaven forbid, kidney stones. The report also says "there are calcifications in the liver and spleen suggesting granulomata". I don't know exactly what that means but it doesn't sound good. The next item is the kicker. It says "there is atherosclerosis of the aorta." That's hardening of the arteries! Proof positive that I'm an Old Dude. There are other notifications that don't make me feel good, the main one being that I have a slight case of emphysema. This from my years of smoking cigarettes. I stopped smoking my one pack a day of Marlboros on July 27, 1967. I had smoked for approximately 6 years. Apparently the damage was done. Several years ago I had a chest X-ray. My doctor at that time asked if I smoked cigarettes. I told her "Yes, but I stopped years ago." She told me that the chest X-ray indicated that I had scar tissue on my lungs which indicated that I had smoked cigarettes. One of the reasons I stopped smoking was that I got out of breath climbing the two flights of stairs to the floor where I worked at a bank in center city Philadelphia. I figured that if I was out of breath in my 20's, what would I be like if I continued to smoke. Probably dead by now. Last week I had the results semi-annual blood test at the VA outpatient clinic in Georgetown. It indicated that I was doing well in all areas, especially my cholesterol count. The doctor indicated that was as much due to my genetic heritage as to my diet. Thank goodness for that. Blood pressure was also fine. However, I did indicate to him that I probably needed another eye exam because I'm having trouble focusing on distant objects. He examined my eyes and told me I had some large "floaters." I asked him what was that. He said "all a part of aging." Uh uh. Another reminder that I'm getting old and beginning to fall apart. I look in the mirror every morning when I shave. I don't have a choice. I have to look or take the chance of cutting my throat. Who I see in the mirror isn't the same person I picture in my mind. I think to myself "Who is that old geezer looking at me in the mirror? Did I sleep with HIM last night?" Oh well, the MRI report also said "there are serpiginous vascular structures int he abdomen suggesting varices." I'm not even going to look that one up. I figure I have enough on my plate now. One thing is painfully obvious, a Michael Phelps I am not.

Michael Phelps

Now let us address the phenomenon of Michael Phelps. First let me make it quite clear that I am not criticizing this young man or his considerable accomplishments during the Olympics. Our country is proud to have such a hard working, determined young man represent our country in the Olympics. He seems like a fine young man. My problem is with the over the top coverage of him my our news media. I confess that I stopped watching TV coverage of the Olympics years ago when I realized that the US media basically only covered U S athletes. I also had a major problem with all the commercials. I used to love watching the Olympics, especially the live coverage. However, the constant chants of "USA! USA!" and the lack of coverage of the athletes of other countries caused me to lose interest. Another problem I have with the U S news media coverage is their habit of picking one of two U S athletes and build them up as the Second Coming. One hears the words "bravery, courage and hero" tossed around with so much abandon that those words have long ceased to lose their meaning in the context of Olympic coverage. Yesterday I read coverage about the aforementioned Mr. Phelps and how "brave" and "courageous" he was in obtaining gold medals for the U S. Give me a break. There is nothing brave or courageous at all about Phelps accomplishments. He worked very hard (five hours a day swimming) to gain his gold medals. Also, it helps that he has the body of a duck. Look at the cartoon I took out of the Washington Post yesterday. This cartoon drawing of Michael Phelps isn't too much of an exaggeration either. Phelps has a very long torso. He is 6'3" tall. I am also 6'3" tall. Phelps weighs 165 pounds. I weigh 159 pounds. Phelps inseam (leg length) is 30". Mine is 36"! The boy has short leg! His foot size is 14. Mine (and I thought I had big feet) is 12. The boy has flippers. His wing span is 6'7". I don't know what mine is but it isn't that wide. His hands hang 3 inches below his knees. My hands fall 3 inches short of my knees. Thus, Mr. Phelps was born with a built in physical advantage. Not to mention that his family circumstances afforded him the opportunity to spend most of his life in a pool swimming. I never entered a pool until I was 21 years old and in the Army. The first time I saw the ocean was when I was 22 years old. Am I jealous? Am I envious? You're damn right! I am riven with jealousy. I take nothing away from Michael Phelps. I wish him a long and happy life. But please, PLEASE, let us hear no more about how "courageous" and "brave" he is. There are many brave and courageous people in the world. Michael Phelps is no more or nor less than any of them. I fault our jingoistic new media. They would rather cover the fluff known as the Olympics rather than real issues in this world that involve brave and courageous people. And yes, I'm still jealous. Have you seen his hairline? I used to have one like that.