livin’ is easy and the taxes are high - Moon, Pennsylvania

 Here in Moon, Pennsylvania, where the livin’ is easy and the taxes are
high, Chez Lounge is jumpin’ and the
bullets fly, I’ve managed to settle into my new life as a transplanted
Floridian.  Well, actually, I confess I was born in
Ashtabula, Ohio.  But 36 years in Florida would seem to cancel out the
Northerner in me.
 And yet, I feel like I’ve come home.
 The grass here smells like it did in my Grandma Van Slyke’s backyard
when I visited as a child.  Mom would
send me out back to play so she and Grandma could talk in peace.  The
tiny backyard, visible from the window in the
breakfast nook with the ledge filled with sunflower seeds for the
redbirds, was a short walk from the side door up the
shared driveway.  I’d step over the curved wire edging onto the footpath
and feel like I was in a special, private place.
 At the center was a birdbath made of mortar and small, rounded river
stones.  Grandma kept it filled with
water for the birds to bathe in.  I liked to splash my hands in it,
flicking water out at my little brother on those
occasions when he’d follow me there.  But mostly, I was alone.
 Surrounding the small, grassy area with the birdbath were the most
wonderful plants!   Nothing like we had
in Florida.  There was lily of the valley, which was also Grandma’s
favorite scent.  Sometimes she’d let me have a dab
of her perfume to put behind my ears.  Back then I didn’t mind smelling
like my grandma.
 There were the currant bushes, planted up against the sides of the
garages that formed the side boundaries of
the yard.  It was so exciting to see the bright berries that I knew
Grandma would turn into small, clear jars of
beautiful red jelly.  I would eat buttered toast with her jelly for
breakfast every morning.  Then she always presented
me with my very own jar to take home at the end of our visit.  It made
me feel special.
 Stalks of rhubarb grew up against the house.  Grandma prized them for
her pie baking, but I was not a fan.
Give me apple or cherry pie, please, and hold the weird stuff.  Pie
should be made from fruit off a tree.  Or, at the
very least, pudding!
 And there at the back of the yard was the pear tree.  At bedtime my
mother used to tell me stories about
when she was a little girl.  My favorite was the one about the time she
was stuck in the tree and couldn’t get down.
I’d giggled when she confessed she’d wet her pants.  It made her seem so
HUMAN.  I made her repeat that story
over and over.  “Tell me about that time in the pear tree,” I’d beg.
 Grown now and returned to the North,  I go to the farmers’ markets and
buy homemade jellies and fresh
vegetables that remind me of what I’ve missed over the past 30-odd
years.  I buy fruit pies at Fratangelo’s and
Soergel’s that remind me of Grandma’s.  And when I smell the fresh-cut
grass after mowing I am comforted at being
here.
 Life is so full of twists and turns.  It never is what we expect.
Given a choice, my husband and I both agreed
we never would have come here on our own.  What?  Leave the sun and warm
winter weather.  We thought we were
happy there.  But you go where the job takes you, and here we are.  In a
place with gorgeous hills, changing seasons,
warm people, and a sense of the familiar.
 Life is good!

Working for Child’s Tuition

As if it wasn’t hard enough to find a job after my children left home and my resume was filled with large, unimpressive gaps because I opted to follow the path of a homemaker, I hit the market when unemployment was at an all-time high and pay was low due to the glut. It’s humiliating to be intelligent, competent, responsible...and begging for minimum-wage work. Which I couldn’t even get because...somehow...I was over-qualified. Could it be the sign hung around my neck, “Working for Child’s Tuition,” that discouraged any offers? Did they think I meant $50 thousand a year? Let’s see: I can plan, implement, supervise, and make good decisions. Which is why I THINK I passed the intelligence test given by one of the places to which I applied. Question Number One: During arguments have you ever hit someone (A)once; (B)2-3 times; (C)into oblivion; or (D)never? And the intelligent...I mean CORRECT answer would be....well, gee. That’s a tough one. If I answer “D,” will they think I’m lying? Number Two: Someone leaves ten crates in your area stacked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A little old lady is rumbling down the aisle, her cart aiming at the bottom crate. Do you: (A)call the rest of your department to get over there QUICK to watch what happens; (B)grab the old lady, being careful to protect your head as she beats you with her handbag, and call somebody to restack the crates; (C)assume that whoever stacked the crates knew what they were doing and ignore it; or (D)clock out for your break? What kind of workplace am I getting into? Number Three: When stealing from former employers, have you (A)taken anything worth more than $10; (B)taken less than $10 worth of pencils; (C)been able to establish a large trust fund for your children; or (D)never been caught? Yikes! What kind of colleagues am I going to have here? And are the ankle bracelets part of the uniform? Number Four: If a customer is being rude to you, do you (A)ignore it and keep working; (B)stick your tongue out at them and say, “Sticks and stones...” followed by “nonny nonny boo boo;” (C)call your supervisor and say loudly, “There’s an old fart over here who’s making me crazy;” or (D)pull the flask out of your pocket and take a drink? Do I have the job yet? PLEASE pick me! I KNOW I can live up to your standards and be a real asset to your workplace. I even have MY OWN flask already! But, wait a minute! What if the computer was timing me on how long it took to answer each question? What does it mean if I took too long? What if I didn’t give it enough thought? I wonder if I can take it again? What if they don’t call me? I’ve got it! If they don’t call me in 60 days, I get to start over. Next time I’ll CHRISTMAS-TREE my answers!!! But what if they’re Jewish? I don’t want to offend anyone. If I don’t get the job, it just wasn’t meant to be. That’s it. There’s something else out there that I’m supposed to do. Or was I supposed to do THIS job but I just messed up the test? Is it MY fault? Is it FATE? The angst is killing me... I don’t think I can work now. I need to rest. How much money do we really need? My daughter can get a loan...and is an education really so important? Look at ME. I have a degree. A degree and NO JOB. There are lots of us out here...do I really want her to go through this? Whew! That was close... What if they’d actually hired me?