THE DAY THE TEACHERS WENT MISSING

 

The year was 1968 and I was a junior in high school. My home room teacher was there, however when the bell rang and I went to my first class, the instructor’s desk was empty. No teacher showed up! Along with the rest of my class, we waited, still no teacher. Between 10 and 15 minutes later the principal arrived. We were ordered to report to study hall with no explanation.

Half the teachers didn’t show. Again, classes were directed to study hall. Soon we learned the teachers were on strike for an increased salary and budget. Despite this, the schools remained open.

Our new Governor, Claude Kirk Jr. was the first Republican elected to that office since Reconstruction. His personal and management style was combative and flamboyant. After taking office, he took a trip to South America. There, he met and soon married a beautiful German actress named Erika Mattfeld.

On a jaunt to Palm Beach one day, my father stopped at a drug store. At the counter, the woman before him was our new first lady of the state. Dad chuckled that the clerk was fawning all over her. I asked my father if he personally spoke to her. Dad replied that the clerk was doing enough gushing for the both of them, and he had nothing to add.

School was interesting to say the least during this period. We had a series of substitutes, some real weirdos! One in history class told us that a significant part of our grade would be determined as to how well groomed we were. – Not our knowledge of the subject! The next day a different sub was there and never saw him again!

Some classes such as that one, we had a different sub every day. Another, we watched a revolving circle of them. Only one class did we have one who remained throughout the strike. The following year, she was a permanent teacher there.

On TV I watched as our governor stood to address the striking teachers. With a swagger and an upward wave of his hands, he declared “Ok now, let’s hear one big BOO for the Governor!” My mother said he appeared tipsy.

The strike lasted two & a half weeks in our school, longer in others. Finally, an agreement was reached with 10.2 million for educational spending.

Gov. Claude Kirk Jr. was not re-elected.

BOUNDARIES

 

We all have them or should. Some people take them too far, others not far enough. Those of us who’ve been alone a long time seem to have the most rigid ones. I’ll admit I’m one of these.

My stepmother had been alone for almost 30 years before taking up with Dad. She was stone set in her ways with everyone but him. She was his mistress for 18 years.  And if you knew my mother, you’d understand how she was able to finagle her way into our lives!

After my mother’s death, Dad was free to wed her. Before the marriage, she treated my father like royalty. Afterward she alone, ruled the roost. We couldn’t make a move in our own home without first consulting her. My father always made excuses for her, even later when she was displaying clear signs of Alzheimer’s.

But fortunately, and thanks to me, and the high price I paid, he couldn’t pretend forever.

Fast forward to the year 2000. My father was paralyzed on his left side from a stroke and was in a rehabilitation hospital for an entire summer. Every day I visited and wheeled him to all his physical therapy classes.

One morning about 10 minutes before the start of his first class, my father pointed to the therapy room across from him. It led thru into his first session in the adjoining room. He instructed me to take this as a short cut, rather than wheel him all the way around.

Inside, everyone was setting things up. The physical therapist was a muscular man around age 30. He said nothing but made it clear with his chilling stare and body language that I was unwelcome there! His stare reminded me of a snake ready to strike.

The following day, I told my father never again, were we entering that room! We’d continue to take the long way around. I didn’t like the threatening look that man gave me. My father said he noticed and understood.

I have plenty of my own boundaries. Unlike my mother, I don’t give escorted tours of my home. A practice I’ve always found unnecessary and questionable. All but a few rooms of mine are off limits to visitors. Any place they can’t see, they have no business going.

My mother used to say that she loved showing off our home because others were curious. Well, my home is not a tourist attraction, it’s my private space! When I was younger, there were people who probably wondered what I looked like naked. That didn’t mean I was going to put myself on display. I’d rather they remain curious.

And when someone disrespects me, they are expelled from my life fast!

A FRIGHTENING DAY & AN UNNERVING ONE

 

Driving in rain or rush hour traffic is something I try to avoid at all costs. I’ve had to overcome anxiety attacks just to get behind the wheel. And now I have posterior vitreous detachment in both eyes. This happened shortly after cataract surgery in 2017.

What this means is that I see light flashes as well as 3 different kinds of eye floaters: big black ones, little brown ones, & gelatinous of various sizes that are the worst. Yes, there is a surgery to correct this, but I neither have insurance nor the money to pay for it. So, I must live with it and adjust.

Not long ago, it was necessary to meet with my CPA. After I left, it was only sprinkling outside, but soon it began storming. My windshield wipers were going great guns, but all I could see was gray along with the headlights of oncoming cars. And too many cars in front of me had no lights on at all! Mine were not enough, I needed this to see the road ahead of me.

The heavy downfall was blinding. I couldn’t even see a place to turn in and pull over. Rounding a corner I hit a curb and felt one side of my car go up. I thought my car was going to flip over, but it didn’t. I honestly thought I’d never make it home alive, but I did.

My last eye exam felt like something out of the Twilight Zone. It happened at a time I hated to be out, late in the afternoon. This meant I would be driving home in rush hour traffic.

The waiting room was crowded, except for the very back. Along one wall was a lengthy desk filled with busy workers.

I went to the check-in and was given papers to fill out. I walked to the far back where it was empty, I sat with my back toward the crowd.

Almost immediately, a strange woman who looked around 60 came and sat directly across from me. Every time I looked up, I found her staring fixedly upon me with her body leaning forward as if studying me. This creeped me out!

After filing out the paperwork, I moved to a crowded section leaving no room for her to follow.

Wait times are always lengthy in these places, but this one took it to a whole new level; even after a nurse seated me in a room. A tedious wait ensued. Normally this was my nap time and I was missing it. However, since I was reclining, I let myself fall asleep in the exam chair.

When I awoke, I had no idea of time. I wasn’t wearing a watch, nor do I own a cellphone. I got up and walked outside. The waiting room was now empty, as was the long desk. Apparently, the employees had all gone home.

I started to panic! Was I alone in there, and locked in?

Fortunately, I spotted a doctor and flagged him down. “Have you forgotten me?” I exclaimed. “Have you any idea how long I’ve been here?”

He apologized and led me back to the room for an examination. My vision, the posterior vitreous detachment had not changed since the previous visit.

Being summer, it was still light outside. And thankfully rush hour traffic was over. Most people were now at home, or else engaged in happy hour somewhere. I felt relieved! To me, happy hour is home at my kitchen table where I was soon to be. The end of a long, strange afternoon.

SINGERS & A MEMORY

 

I’ll venture a guess that most of the younger generation have never heard of Connie Francis, although she was quite a popular singer, actress and celebrity when I was a child. I enjoyed her as an actress, along with her movies. She was a petite woman with a powerful voice. And she possessed a vibrant personality that exuded genuine warmth. But when it came to singers, I was more of a Leslie Gore fan.

Back then, it seemed every time I turned on the radio Leslie was belting out: “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!” I loved bopping around to that song and Leslie sang it with gusto. I often joined in with my shrill off-key voice.

Leslie’s songs were geared to young teens & pre-teens like me. Connie’s were for an older, more sophisticated crowd.

By the mid 1960’s both singers’ popularity was on the wane. The public’s taste had changed, and they were being replaced by rock groups. However, Connie & Leslie still had their fans.

Fast forward to the 1974, I was shocked and saddened to learn that Connie Francis was raped at knife point in a hotel room after being awakened from sleep. She sued the hotel chain, stating faulty locks. She won! But the large amount was not enough in my opinion. No woman should have to endure that!

Her attacker was never caught.

But I dispute the faulty lock, based on a personal incident.

During my elementary school years, Miami was almost my home away from home. My parents loved the shopping & nightlife there. So, we spent at least one weekend a month there.

I was too young for the nightlife, and I found the shopping tedious, so I spent much of the time cooped up in a motel room. At night, my parents didn’t usually return until long after midnight.

One evening, they were exhausted and decided to stay in. We went to bed around 11:00 PM. About twenty minutes later while still awake, I heard a key turning in the lock. Suddenly light from outside came streaming in. A heavy-set man in a suit entered.

My father hollered out, “You’re in the wrong room!”

The man mumbled an apology and hastily departed.

What unnerved me most was the stranger’s key fit our lock, making it easy for him to enter. I began to wonder if all motel/hotel locks & keys were secretly interchangeable. I doubt Connie Francis lock was faulty, any more than ours!

And I was fortunate that my parents decided to stay-in that night.

THESE SCAMS NEED A HAM

 

And then there’s Spam, but I’ve already done plenty of blogging about that. This is something different, but equally despicable!

Being an independent author, I don’t have a publisher behind me to promote my work. But my phone rings constantly from scammers ready to pick up this slack. Every time I release a new book I’ve been told it’s so special or outstanding that it will be featured prominently at a book festival in some exotic part of the world. – Yeah sure!

One scammer offered to turn a novel of mine into a movie, -- but I was expected to pay for it! I told them they had me confused with the new billion-dollar lottery winner and hung up!

And then there was the scammer who pretended to be from Paramount Pictures who informed me that this same novel was set to become a movie and they wanted to buy all rights. A red flag shot up when he kept referring to me as Deanna. My name is Dianne.

Also, on my Facebook author page I’ve received messages from so-called other authors who claimed to love a novel of mine so much they want to help me promote it. “Oh my publicist is wonderful and she has helped me tremendously,” they say.

I tell them I’ve hired publicists in the past who made big promises, but all they did was take my money. I wasn’t interested! They insist theirs are different. And no matter how hard I try, they refuse to change the subject. I end up blocking them! – I strongly suspect they ARE the publicist trying to drum up work.

Recently, I discovered a call on my answering machine from a podcaster who wanted to promote my latest novel: A Balmy Winter on Topaz Waters. The call stank of phish, so I deleted it.

Next day, I received an email from this same podcaster praising my novel in gushing terms along with a fluffy romantic synopsis.

I emailed back inquiring if they’d actually read my novel. Despite the sound of the title, it wasn’t a dreamy romance any more than The Silence of the Lambs was about a shepherd who sang lullabies to his flock!

So, I was expected to promote it as something it isn’t. – Not happening!

This is the reason I rarely answer my phone anymore.

APPLE PIE ON THE 4TH OF JULY

 

When it comes to movies I’ve never cared much for superhero silliness. However, on this holiday I need noise to blend in with the booms & blasts outside to make it less distracting. And some years it’s difficult to find a war movie I haven’t already seen.

It’s become even worse since our trump-turd governor DeSantis has made holiday fireworks in private (unprofessional) hands legal.

If anyone wants fireworks, there are plenty of places they can watch them for free!!! The 4^th is no longer a holiday to which I look forward. However, I’m determined to make the best of it with tasty victuals.

As to pastry, I’m a cake person. But last Thanksgiving I bought a read-to-bake, Marie Calendar Dutch Apple Pie on sale & it was so delicious I vowed to enjoy another on the 4^th. That aroma of baking is so intoxicating it has me dancing around my kitchen.

And what is more American than apple pie! Apple pie on my table and fascism in the White House! The latter has me crashing to a thud. How could such a thing happen in this country? How was someone as despicable and corrupt as trump even allowed to run for office again! This would-be dictator tried to overthrow our government? And worse, how could someone of such low caliber ever be elected?

But then, I recall a statement from Nobel Prize winning author Sinclair Lewis, “When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross.” This is exactly what has happened!

And Sinclair Lewis earned his Nobel Prize! No one gifted it to him!

How can anyone be so dim as not to see we have a con artist & convicted rapist for president! His major skill is lying. And at his side is the first whore, -- No, the other one, J.D. Vance! – Remember when he called trump America’s Hitler? Actually, trump is more like Caligula!

Strangely, here in Florida, trump and his lackeys are popular. And Florida supporters are pictured as rednecks, swamp dwellers, and religious cuckoos. I’ll admit plenty fall into this category! However, the trumpers I know are all educated transplants from the Eastern Seaboard. Of two most fanatical, one couple is from Connecticut and the other New York with their accent & attitude intact. Trump can do no wrong in their eyes.

I guess they must enjoy paying higher prices for everything while turning a blind eye to all the rampant grift in Washington along with a deaf ear to the multitude of lies.

Never did I imagine such a thing as this would ever occur during my lifetime, or that I would be ashamed to be a citizen of the United States.

And to all those trump turds telling me to leave and not let the door hit me on the way out; hear me loud and clear, I’m NOT going anyplace! Trump is the one who must go and soon!!!

GRRR, WHAT'S THIS NOW

 

I’ll admit I’ve become too attached to Facebook. However, living on a fixed income, it’s now too expensive to go anywhere or do anything. Facebook was one of the few pleasures left to me. It’s the place I went to chill and sometimes vent.

Yes, there are those who try to turn it into something else! I’ve had to deal with some seriously ugly trolls & downright disrespectful people! Fortunately, I can block and delete them, and I gladly exercise this power.

I only wish this existed in other areas of my life. In a previous home, I had neighbors I came to hate so much, I could have dynamited their house with them inside it!

Facebook became a recreational activity. All the good stuff is there and I loved sharing it!

Suddenly, I discovered I could no longer share/post anything from Facebook to Facebook. I could only do this from other places such as my ATT Homepage, email, blog, Arcamax comics, etc., but not Facebook! I can wish friends a Happy Birthday and comment on some posts, but I can’t share them.

When I attempted posting an article to a friend’s Timeline, I was informed that I was restricted from doing this until Aug. 18! – And this is June!!!

So, I paid $150 per hour to bring a tech guy over to figure out why. He filed an appeal, plus a complaint. But I was told not to expect miracles since we were probably dealing with a robot.

I see that other Facebook friends (but not all) are having this problem as well.

This happened right around the time Mark Suckerberg fired all those people. He’s in the Trump camp and sucks up to him, I wondered if I was being punished for all my anti-Trump posts.

My tech guy told me he’s heard this complaint from both sides of the political spectrum.

I am still allowed to post my blog containing a number of anti-Trump sentiments, including the last one where I called Trump a lying sack of pig excrement.

I Googled to see if I could gain insight into why this is happening. There is only thing (I could see) that might be causing the problem. Apparently, Meta doesn’t like anyone sharing from a wide variety of places on Facebook, they prefer users stick to posts with friends & family along with their activities. – The exact opposite of what I enjoy!

At my age, most of my family, relatives & friends are dead! My only close family member is my 86-year-old brother. And he lives in a nursing home in another state. He doesn’t care spit for computers and won’t even learn to email despite the staff offering to teach him.

Other Facebook friends who share this problem were told they were making Facebook less safe by sharing from too many sources. Well, I’m still blocking romantic scammers, they’re the ones making it unsafe! Why isn’t Facebook going after them instead!

Recently, something else came to light that might explain this. Awhile back, so long ago I’d forgotten, I joined a class action suit against Facebook for violating my privacy. – Perhaps Meta is punishing me for this.

Anyway, they lost and now must pay me! I am eagerly awaiting my check for 25 cents. Or maybe they’ll surprise me and it will be a whopping 2 dollars.

Posting varied pictures of beautiful & interesting artwork, amazing nature scenes, landscapes, & architecture was a major de-stressor and I miss it! Limitations are now forced upon me and I resent it! Now, I have little incentive to be on Facebook at all.