FIRST CLASS FLYS, ECONOMY CLASS DIES

Unfortunately, you cannot zap out commercials watching On Demand TV shows. So I was tempted to throw a rock at my screen when I saw the commercial with Jennifer Anniston stepping out of a shower in a spacious airline bathroom. She was promoting Emirates Airlines detailing all the luxurious experiences awaiting you including interesting places to explore as you stroll onboard. – Sure, as long as you belong to the 1 per cent! Lovely Jennifer didn’t want her cushy flight to end.

Last January I flew Emirates to Thailand and back in Economy Class and the experience was overwhelmingly miserable. Cramped, exhausted, and in pain; I was counting every millisecond waiting for the wretched flights to end.

The bathrooms in Economy Class are so tiny you can barely turn around; about the width of an upright coffin. And usually there were long lines!

The passenger seats were so narrow, I felt squeezed and I’m a slim woman. Everyone behind me on all 4 Emirates flights complained when I tried to recline; and they didn’t recline far to start.

I was ordered by the Board of Health to get up and walk around to prevent deep vein thrombosis. As a senior, I’m at greater risk. However the passengers in Economy Class were discouraged from doing this! The narrow aisles had constant traffic; crew was always going back & forth and people were heading for restrooms. Passengers were instructed NOT to get up and room around!

Blood clots from deep vein thrombosis are a serious issue, a potentially life-threatening condition!

Below is an airline joke that’s right on the mark:

An Emirates Boeing 777-200LR was flying thru stormy skies amidst booming thunder and bolts of lightning. Suddenly a harried stewardess appeared at the forefront. “Don’t panic!’ she hollers, “A bomb has been discovered in the baggage compartment. Please stay calm! Everything is under control! Parachutes are now being distributed in First & Business Class! To everyone in Economy Class, Thank you for flying Emirates!”

I’ve read about people returning from lengthy flights with blood clots in both legs. What I can’t understand is why they don’t SUE THE AIRLINE it’s clearly their fault!!!

If someone can afford the luxury of First Class, I don’t begrudge them that. UNLESS they’re taking away from others to have it! Airplanes are enormous, yet only so big. To have all of that strolling space, large bathrooms, bars, & seats that recline like beds; they must cut space elsewhere!

Why isn’t there a separate airliner for the obscenely wealthy????  A big and special one! Then the rest of us might at least have BASIC COMFORT again!!! Economy Class has become the 21^st Century equivalent of traveling steerage.

Ugh and ick! Nowadays people in Economy Class dress way down and look like bums. Perhaps I should have titled this post: FIRST CLASS FLYS, ECONOMY CLASS FLIES! -- For crying out loud, you don’t need a lot of money to look sharp! I remember when Economy Class passengers were dressed to the nines!

On the other hand, there’s no incentive to dress up when you know you’re going to be uncomfortable right from the get-go!

At the end of the commercial, you see Jennifer sitting happily in a lower tier with children while their mother luxuriates in a plush First Class seat that encloses for privacy. Yeah right! If I’m ever on the same airplane as Jennifer Anniston, I doubt she would give up her First Class accommodations to me or anyone else for even 5 milliseconds!

MATTHEW I SAW YOU COMING

But I hoped to be wrong. I am hardly psychic. But I am a tasseologist, I read tea leaves for fun. Good thing, because my accuracy rate is way down there, about 20%. However, it may just be coincidence, but sometimes my predictions are right on target.

One morning weeks ago while the tropics were peaceful, I saw in my cup the image a major hurricane headed toward us!  It was so clearly defined, it left me shaken.

Later in the AM, my financial advisor Bob phoned and I told him what I had seen. (He is my witness!) Bob poo-pooed the notion. I agreed that I was probably just being silly. The Atlantic was so calm it seemed as if no more hurricanes would be on the horizon this season.

Shortly after, Matthew formed in the Atlantic and soon became a grievous category 4. Before long, it wrecked havoc and death in Haiti. But the charts showed it far to the west of Florida. However, in the days to come it began moving further to the east. Now it was predicted to move up the Florida coast. One model showed a direct hit here in Vero Beach as a Cat 4!

Suddenly I was in panic mode!

Four years ago, I asked my yard man if he would board me up in the event of a hurricane. “No problem,” he said, “I live close-by.” Hopefully, he hadn’t developed amnesia as a previous yard guy did. When I phoned him, I was told, “Sorry, I’m behind and I’m just too busy.” I inquired if he knew anyone else I could hire. He thought for a minute, and then replied, “They’re all busy, too.”

So now I would be facing a Cat 4 monster alone and unprepared!!!

The following day I had an appointment scheduled with my Tech man, Jake. Naturally I called to cancel. I inquired if he knew of anyone for the job. 

Jake asked about my neighbors.  NONE have offered in any previous hurricane! (I endured Wilma unboarded and watched a tree snap in half outside my window!) All of my neighbors are aware that I am a senior citizen who is physically incapable of this task!

And I posted on Facebook that I was desperate to hire someone! Despite 2 friends sharing my post no one responded. Then I read posts from other single women gushing exuberantly about how their wonderful neighbors were stepping up to help in their time of need. – Well my neighbors SUCK and ROT!

Jake phoned back. He and his pastor were coming to my rescue! The following AM they drove up in a church van from Port St. Lucie. Golden kudos to both and poison ivy, hornets, and curses to my neighbors!

Time was growing short; I dusted off my 2 battery-operated lanterns & radio from 10 years ago. My batteries were all from that period as well and no longer worked. I made an emergency round to all the stores. No D batteries were left and that’s exactly what I needed!

My friend Rose, brought me D batteries, plus a better radio & an extra flashlight. Unfortunately, my old lanterns no longer worked. But I got thru Hurricane Frances and the aftermath with just candles and a flashlight.

Rose wanted me to spend the hurricane in her extra bedroom. She has a generator, which I do not. However even in the worst of times, I’m more comfortable in my own home. Plus I can do damage control here. Rose took most of my frozen food to keep until after the storm. I was prepared to spend a week without electricity.

Stores ran out of bottled water, fast. Not a problem for me. Oh good grief! I just fill-up bottles of tap water ahead of time as well as my bath & laundry tubs. Buying water from a store just seems crazy to me! I think some people must have too much money.

I was so stressed over the hurricane; finally I took one of the doctor recommended GABA (natural tranquilizer) pills. All it did was sap my energy and make me tired. And there was much left to do!

I gathered up all my important papers and made sure they were water-proof. I packed clothes in plastic bags and brought them downstairs along with many other items.

My safe room with no windows and walls on 3 sides is my downstairs bathroom. I spent the night on the floor as in previous hurricanes.

The GABA had worn off and I would NOT be taking another! Should the worst occur, I wanted to be alert and able to react fast! -- I can’t fathom these people who get drunk during a hurricane. That’s the LAST thing they should be doing!

The electricity went out at 10:30 PM. Ferocious winds wailed and lashed my house along with deafening bangs. It sounded as if refrigerators were being forcefully thrown against my home as well as direct hits from cannon balls! It was a miserable, uncomfortable, horrible night.

Boarded-up without electricity, my house is spooky inside and the 30 ft cathedral ceiling adds an extra element of eeriness. Usually, I stay put on the bathroom floor. However after going thru so many hurricanes alone, I’ve gotten braver. This time I was constantly up, walking around and up & down the stairs with a flashlight checking for damage.

Also I was constantly glancing at my watch. All hell was supposed to break loose at 4:00 AM!!! At that very hour, I awoke. Strangely, everything seemed calmer. Perhaps it was the proverbial calm that arrives before a disaster. As I waited, I felt myself drift back to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, it was lighter and quiet. At that second, I heard the electricity come back on. This all seemed too good to be true and surreal. It felt like a miracle! I was actually able to prepare a cooked breakfast and my usual pot of tea. And I didn’t lose one screen on my long back porch! During the previous hurricanes all were shredded.

Upon reaching the Treasure Coast, Matthew lost strength, but still was a serious Cat 3! Fortunately it veered east sparing us the worst. When I see news reels of the destruction and flooding further north, I’m reminded that it could have been catastrophic, here. This time, we escaped by a hairsbreadth!

My house will remain boarded until November when hurricane season is officially over. In the meantime, it feels as if I’m living inside a mountain cavern. It’s dark and gloomy in here. But I’m taking no chances.

Outside, I’m in the process of having major repairs to my home unrelated to Matthew. The hurricane messed-up the scheduling. Right now life is crazy-busy here!!!

FIRST SONGS & YEOWL ALONGS

Recently, I was reading in our local newspaper a statement by E Street Band bassist Gary Tallent. To paraphrase him, our favorite music is usually the type we were first introduced to as a child.

Hmmn, I thought back to the earliest songs I could remember. The ones I heard while sitting in my highchair or banging my plastic cup against the bars of my playpen. One immediately sprang to mind! The song is Blues in the Night; it’s from a 1940’s movie with the same title. Well it sure was having a resurgence in the early 1950’s! Every popular chanteuse of the period and small time vocalist seemed to be singing it on TV. I’ve often wondered if it was this song that turned me asexual.  Lyrics from the song are:

 

“My momma done told me when I was in pigtails, hon

A man is a two-face

He'll sweet talk you and give ya the big eye

But when the sweet talk is done

A man is a two-face

A worrisome thing that will leave you to sing

The blues in the night”

 

This is a cool song, but I never hear it sung anymore!

Another popular one of the period was Sixteen Tons, sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford. This was more of a radio song, also a scary one that gave me chills. Particularly the part where Ernie in his deep, bass-baritone voice sings:

“St. Peter don’t you call me cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the company store.” followed by the creepy, doo doo DOO doo DOO doo doo DOOOO music!

To my ears, I thought he sang,  “I owe my soul to the company STOVE!”  I envisioned his soul screaming in flames every time they opened the door to cook!

Misunderstanding the words of songs is common. Who can forget the Christmas song about the ancient troll who tied up Carol or The Dawning of the Age of Asparagus in the 1970’s. Funny, the latter one pretty much describes my life these days.

A popular 70’s song was Love Me like a Rock, sung by Paul Simon. This is not about romance, but the love between a mother & son. I used to call it the constipated man song and I’ll bet lots of others did, too.  Because of the line:    “I’m a consummated man!”

Then I would sing chorus:   “Oh he was a maaan! A constipated man!”

Another question that now springs to mind is exactly how do you love a rock??? But then, I remembered that Pet Rocks were a popular fad back then. -- No, I never owned one! However I do have a rock of which I am rather fond. I brought it back from the shores of Lake Linnhe in Scotland back in 1980. I use it as a paper weight; but its also been in the upstairs toilet tank to hold down the flap to prevent leaking. And if anyone breaks in & tries to rob or murder me, I’ll bash their skull in with it, after I blind them with hornet spray. You see it’s a multi-purpose rock! But hey, I’m getting off track here.

Speaking of tracks, in my 20’s I owned a cherished collection of 8 track tapes. These were the big thing back then!

As for vinyl records, I received my first set at age 4 as well as a set of books. Both were from the Disney Company. Walt Disney loomed large in my life! These days I enjoy hearing Colors of the Wind on the radio. But the lyrics:  “You think you own whatever land you land on.”  Sound clunky to me!

I feel the song would be more powerful if it was sung: “You think you own whatever SOIL you land on.”  Anyway, that’s just my opinion!!!

Another song I enjoy that bugs me is The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down! It’s the lyrics:  “All the bells were ringing and the people were singing they went La La Lah, La La Laaah!” --- Well, where did they go??? Was this a marching chorus??? It should be they SANG not WENT!!!  Better yet, leave “they went/sang” off altogether. It’s superfluous!

Yes, yes, yes! It’s easier to spot the flaws of others quicker than your own. I do not dismiss the talent of any of these artists. Perfection is unnecessary. I still remember these songs and they give me joy! That’s really what it’s all about.

 

FOOTNOTE:   I’ve only written one song in my entire life! It’s a punk rock number titled, Dead Mommies in Hell. Maybe I’ll share it on Mother’s Day – unless you bribe me not to!

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!