ME VS THE UNIVERSE

To expatriate was my plan! For years now, I’ve felt nudges, even pushes from the universe shoving me in that direction. Even my tea leaves told me to go!

This has NOT been a good year for me since returning from Thailand last January! I experienced a health scare that was serious enough to force me into altering my lifestyle. And I was hit with large unexpected expenses, not including major repairs to my home with which I’ve yet to deal. Plus there have been fractures in friendships, one ending completely!

Even a psychic who gave me a free reading over the Internet told me to leave as well! -- But I suspect he read my blog to glean info. And now he’s trying to make up my mind for me! Well I’m the decider here, Mister!!! And your sales hook is the same rusty one I’ve been hearing & rejecting from so-called clairvoyants for the last 40 years! That “brief” window of opportunity only YOU can guide me thru has been around for that long! So SCRAM!!!

Whatever I decide, it must be MY decision alone, even if it means going against the universe!

 

On paper, expatriating seemed the best move for me. Perhaps there is no right or wrong choice, here. Whatever I choose may come back to bite me eventually! Or perhaps the universe has my back no matter what I do. Time will tell.

Thailand is out for a long list of reasons. This is why exploratory trips are necessary!

Before my visit, Ecuador sounded like the perfect country to retire. My first thought upon checking in was, “Yikes, they sure over-sold this place!” Still, I told myself it might grow on me.

I would have affordable healthcare, there. I’ll never have that here no matter who is elected. There is too much greed and corruption involved in our current system and too many people in power who want to keep it this way. If I am ever hospitalized, it would ruin me financially! If I can foresee a serious health issue, I can fly to another country for treatment. If not, well….

From a financial standpoint, expatriating seems the wisest move. Sure, it would save me money. However my quality of life would be far less, along with lots more stress & bother. I don’t care to stand in long, crowded lines every month to pay my bills. Or wait 2 weeks or more for a (non-English speaking) repairman should my refrigerator break or my cable is down, or my landline go out every time it rains.

Expats have told me, “It’s a developing country and you just have to go with the flow.” -- Well I’m not a go-with-the-flow personality type!

And speaking of flow, I don’t care to live in any country where you can’t flush toilet paper! (There’s a closed metal basket beside each commode.) I was calling it Ickuador!!! (I still do) And I don’t understand this. Way back in the 1970’s I toured Mexico & Guatemala with my dad & future step-mom. We ventured deep into these countries; everywhere we could flush toilet paper! Otherwise, my father would have had us on the next plane back to the states! He would have been as grossed out as I was!

I’ve considered Mexico, which I loved, but it’s a far more violent place now than it was back in the 1970’s.

As for Ecuador, I’ve decided I don’t want to move anyplace that needs to grow on me, especially at my age. I don’t know how much time I have left on this planet.

The Third World was just TOO Third World for me. I don’t see myself adjusting.

Geez, all I really want is to be retired and enjoy a quiet life. Why is THAT so terrible? (rhetorical question) Isn’t being happy everyone’s true goal! And I’m happy right here!

My days feel sublime. They pass at warp speed despite all my attempts to slow and savor them. My nights of falling asleep in my recliner in front of the TV feel like heaven to me. I’d rather do this than anything else.

However, paradise doesn’t come cheap these days and neither does healthcare! And both are getting more expensive all the time. That’s the fly in the honey!

I’ve decided to remain here in Vero Beach. And I’m doing everything in my power to preserve my health!  But if the worse ever happens and I feel a heart attack or stroke coming on, I’m NOT calling 911! I want to die here where I’m happy, in the house I love.

PARADISE & THE TWO-ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE

During the latter half of the 1950’s my family moved from our small Florida town to an even smaller one just down the coast. This was Hobe Sound which my grandfather called a hamlet.

I fell in love with this place immediately! To reach our new house we drove under a canopy of towering Banyan trees and then turned right onto a secluded floral lane. Our new home (a rental) was located on several acres and overlooked the Intracoastal Waterway.

A history of flooding must have been the case, because the house was built high. You had to walk up a staircase to reach the front door, which was situated on the side showcasing our view of the Intracoastal. In the evenings, I’d sometimes sit on the front steps. Here, I watched as many fireflies as stars in the night sky and the moon appeared especially pretty over the water.

Out back, long steps led down into a courtyard with a low wall as not to obstruct the view. There, we entertained guests.

A small dock rested on our beach and kitty-corner from it was a mangrove island. In low tide, my grandfather & I waded out with a hammer & chisel along with a bucket. We went oystering! It was the first time I’d eaten an oyster and we ate them raw! I love them that way to this day!

Plus the ocean and public beach was in walking distance of our house! This place was perfect.

The expansive lot next door was overgrown and wild. The remnants of a partially built house stood largely concealed by climbing vines and weeds. It reminded me of an ancient ruin. A tragic story was behind it. A newlywed couple was in the process of building while the husband was away fighting in the Korean War. He was killed and construction ceased.

This was my 1^st year of school and I was a transfer student. This being a small community, the schoolhouse consisted of two rooms across the hall from each other.

The FIRST thru THIRD Grade students were in one large room and the FOURTH thru SIXTH were across the hall in the other, with one teacher for each. There was no cafeteria, everyone brought their lunch, but milk for 5 cents was purchased from a cooler at school. We ate our lunch outside on wooden tables in the back of the playground. When it rained, we ate at our individual desks.

My 1^st day was filled with anxiety. When I entered, I was as nervous as if I had a gun trained on me! Everyone stared as if I was naked with 3 navels, goiters growing from my armpits and foot-long hair sprouting from my loins. Apparently they didn’t see a lot of strangers here!!!

The teacher was a young attractive woman. She spoke TO me, rather than down AT me like my previous one. After the lunch bell rang, the class rushed out into the playground. All the kids from First Grade and even a few from Second and Third came over and introduced themselves. This small school was a welcoming one, plus I was a curiosity. Suddenly, I had plenty of instant friends! This was something new and unfamiliar to me!

To my delight, several of these kids lived close enough that we could walk or bike to each other’s homes. Again, this place was perfect. I never wanted to leave!!! But my time here was all too brief.

Right after the school year ended, my mother & I took a plane to visit relatives up in Detroit. (This was years before it became Murder Capitol of the Country!) After we returned, Dad announced that he had landed a fabulous job back in the town we had left. Sadly, we would be moving back.

I’d be returning to that school just up the coast, the one I hated and never wanted to see again!

But, as fate would have it, I did see many of THESE kids, again! Later, at Junior High level they were bused north to school in my municipality since we were in the same county.

However my Seventh Grade year was spent in West Palm Beach at the “special” school. When I returned for Eighth Grade, I was ecstatic to see them there! Several, I approached with a big, “Hey, do you remember me from First Grade?”

Unfortunately, this time I was up against teenage attitude and cliques which were prevalent at this school. They were polite, but at the same time distant and dismissive. It was clear we weren’t going to be picking up where we left off in Grade One.

When I was in High School, my brother wed the cousin of my First Grade teacher. This marriage did not last and is mostly forgotten by us both. Its notable how someone can be alive and dead to you at the same time, also how content you are to keep it that way. Yet, other more distant memories remain alive and vivid.

The old two-room schoolhouse of which I have such fond memories eventually became an abandoned and neglected building as well as another victim of our sleazed-down society. A murder was committed there which was drug related.

This tiny piece of paradise is now lost to the past, but it makes the memory more precious and one I cherish.

BAD COMBOS & WORSE COUPLINGS

Remember when the tabloids were combining the names of celebrity couples? I sure hope that silly trend is over! Who can forget BENNIFER! It sounded like a species of extinct prehistoric plant. First, it was Ben Affleck & Jenifer Lopez, then Ben & Jennifer Garner. Ben must really love that moniker!

Just as goofy is BRANGELINA, the name given to Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie. That one always sounded like a breakfast cereal to me. I envision a commercial with an apron clad mother saying to her son, “Tommy, I know you love Rice Krispies, but Grandpa is having trouble pooping and is cranky. So I bought this box of Brangelina today.”… Next scene, Grandpa  & Tommy are seated together with Mommy standing over them, everyone is smiling. “Brangelina is our new favorite cereal!” Mom announces with pride! Gramps & Tommy raise their spoons high in the air before digging in.

Occasionally, I still hear Brad & Angie referred to as that. I think they are married, now. (Maybe even divorced!) Anyway, this couple has always the Pitts as far as I was concerned.

Sometimes, but rarely, these combos actually work! For example, there’s my friend Rose and husband Brian. I call them BROSE, which sounds rather cool, I think. But then, they’re a cool couple to start!

This got me to thinking about some of the guys I’ve dated in the past. A few aren’t worth remembering or mentioning. Still, I arrived at only goofy sounding combos with Dianne.  See below:

Frank:  DIANK -  sounds like someone gagging into a sink!

Bob:  DIOB -  an acronym for Dangerous Idiots Overseeing Biotechnology

Stan:  STAINNE -  a seedy town on the Danube where unknown artists of questionable talent loiter

Jay:  JADIA-  a menacing Hindu deity with long claws, fangs, & facial hair

Charles:  CHARDI-  a small Third World nation where roasted beetles & fried maggots are considered a delicacy

David:  DAVDI - an exotic dancer from Chardi

Remember I’m asexual and haven’t dated a whole lot!  And boyfriends are over-rated!

Now suspend belief and imagine 25 year old me in my time machine. Picture that steely look of determination on my face as I’m traveling thru time and space. I am stepping back into the mid-1940’s into the Golden Age of Hollywood. And I am dating the stars!!!

Errol Flynn & I are DIARROL! Ewwww, that sounds like an antibiotic for a nasty communicable disease!

But then there’s Clark Gable! Together we are DIARK! Geez, this one sounds like a Slavic person with a speech impediment trying to enunciate the word dark.  Example: “Don’t go ut in diark, vumpares vill  gut you!”

And let’s not forget Alan Ladd, We’re DIALAN! --  What? Isn’t that a drug store product for acid reflux?

Ok, let’s travel a wee bit further back!

Teddy Roosevelt, I’ve always found interesting! And we are TEDIANNE! This one sounds like the name of a snooty Bolshoi ballerina with high pinched cheekbones! I picture her spitting at the audience as she twirls.

Now I’m going far back into the Middle Ages. Here, I am being courted by Henry VIII. – And get this! We would be DIARY! Hey, I used to write in one of those as a teenager! As usual, I depart with my head and everything else intact.

Wow, I’m moving up in the world the farther back I go!!! (Remember, I’m an enchantress with a time machine.) King Arthur and I have a serious flirtation erupting. And Guinevere may not become the Queen after all. Feathers are ruffled and Camelot is aflutter because of the shenanigans between DIATHUR! Yikes, that sounds like a villain in an ancient Greek tragedy. However I won’t be the villain here, I’m moving on.

Now I’m zooming way, way back in history to ancient Rome. Oh, this toga feels sooo comfortable! And my slaves from Britannia are hand-feeding me figs & grapes. Julius Ceasar & I have found one another. Together, we are JULIANNE.  Folks, I think we have a winner!!!

FOOTNOTE:   Cleopatra is dead. I slit her throat last week!

FIRST GRADE TIRADE

Labor Day is here and tomorrow the tykes & teens all over the country should back in class and my mailbox safe until the weekend.

Vividly, I recall my 1st day of school as if it was just last week. Believe it or not, I was actually looking forward! Heck, school sounded exciting! My older friend Sharla often regaled me with her experiences. I felt like I was missing out! I couldn’t wait!

However once I attended, all of that changed drastically. Now I wanted OUT fast!!! It was nothing like what I expected. I hated being awakened from a deep sleep 5 days a week, I missed my morning TV shows (VCRS & DVRS were in the realm of science fiction then), plus it was torture being confined to a seat for long hours, everything that came out of the teacher’s mouth was boring, and the kids were unfriendly. It felt like a prison sentence!

But the 1^st day was filled with excitement!!! Unlike the other kids who were accompanied by their mommies, I was with my dad. I’ve always been a Daddy’s Girl.

The teacher was a frail-looking elderly woman not much taller than us tykes. My father joked that if she ever tried to shake me, just stand rigid and she’d be shaking herself. We chuckled among ourselves.

By far the most defiant kid in class, the one with the worst attitude, who gave the teacher the most problems, was the Sheriff’s son! He sat in the back of the room, alone.

We had double-desks back then and the majority of us had a seatmate. I spotted a girl named Susan whom I knew and seated myself next to her. Six weeks into the school year, Susan along with her family moved to another state.

Instead of leaving my seat vacant as I would have preferred, the teacher relocated a girl named Mary-Lou from across the room. She was another boney blond just like me.

Within minutes, Mary-Lou accused me of filching her pencil! I showed her mine and asked why I would take hers? Well it was missing, so I must have taken it and she was going to tell the teacher! I peered behind her chair. A pencil rested against the outer back leg. I pointed down at it!

I waited for an apology, none was forthcoming. I figured she was just deeply embarrassed. I certainly would have been!

I didn’t attempt any conversation with her after that. Occasionally, she spoke to me, but always negatively. Statements such as, “Aren’t you finished with your assignment, yet? You must really be dumb!” I tried to consider the caliber of person beside me and ignore her.

Only about two weeks passed and her eraser went missing! (We all had giant erasers back then.)I couldn’t believe it; AGAIN she accused me of stealing!!! -- Didn’t she remember what happened with the pencil??? She should have felt like a fool! Mary-Lou was careless with her things, yet her knee-jerk reaction was to blame the nearest person.

She kept raising her voice threatening to tell the teacher. I looked behind our chairs hoping to see it and quiet her down. Unfortunately, it wasn’t there. By this time, she had the attention of the teacher along with the rest of the class.

“Dianne stole my eraser!” she exclaimed, as the teacher walked over. All eyes were on me! I felt myself redden as I declared my innocence.

My desk and lunchbox were searched. I was forced to empty my pockets. And NO eraser was uncovered. -- Mary-Lou probably left it at home!

“Dianne does NOT have your eraser!” the teacher told her.

But Mary-Lou still insisted I did! I must! Because it was missing! -- I’m surprised she didn’t insist on a strip-search as well as a vaginal & anal probe! But I felt as if all of those things had already been done to me!

I was angry the teacher didn’t force her to apologize for falsely accusing me.

I came home crying! I’d been publicly humiliated. Plus my reputation and character had been sullied and I’d done nothing wrong!

My parents were outraged. They knew they weren’t raising a criminal and this reflected on them. That evening, my mother phoned the teacher at home and demanded Mary-Lou be moved. At least this time, they had my back and I was grateful!

As Mary-Lou gathered up her things she gave me a sour stare. A girl named Jessica was imported from across the room.

Jessica had eyes with high arched brows. A long full ponytail with cinnamon-colored curls cascaded down her back. Jessica was so comely and perfect looking; she could have had her own TV show! I felt as if I’d won a trophy having her as my seatmate.

For some reason, she refused to talk to me! Jessica would converse with the kids around us, but every time I tried to say anything, she would shush me. – And class wasn’t even in session! I felt hurt and insulted. But then I remembered my previous seatmate, I needed to count myself fortunate.

Shortly before Christmas, my parents announced that right after New Year’s we’d be moving just a short ways down the coast to Hobe Sound. But it meant that I would be attending a different school.

There was no “Good bye” between Jessica and me. I hope she and Mary-Lou ended up as seatmates!!!

Down in Hobe Sound, I found myself in a two-room schoolhouse. Here, I didn’t mind going to class as much. This school didn’t suck! Best of all we had solitary desks! My time there was a cherished memory and a story for another blog!