Pills & Pachukos
My daughter Athena had not posted a journal entry in quite some time so I was delighted to find her recent post. It seems my blog about 10 little known facts about me prompted her to begin a list of "unknown" facts about herself. In her preamble she said my childhood "fascinated" her. That pleases me... and prompts me to take yet another trip back in time, but first a note on today.
I worked in my herb garden and discovered the mint has been secretly sending out "stolens," underground extensions with roots sprouting at intervals. Hiding just below the surface these reproductive efforts are invading the space of the rosemary and thyme, not to mention the fennel. The mint plant looks small and innocent and wins my heart with its lovely greens and aromatic offerings, but I believe I'll need to segregate it because it's not sharing as it should.
Richard and I played dominos on Pogo for a time, did our Bible study lesson (2 days worth because we were a day behind) and enjoyed just being together. We talked about going to Cyprus Gardens to see Loretta Lynn but decided we would never get close enough to really enjoy the concert. They began taking reservations last December, but we were unaware. I was happy to stay home with my man. I'm so thankful for this sweet, gentle man with whom to share my love, my life, my tears and my joy.
I went to Wal-Mart with my latest six months worth of refill prescriptions from my very vocal and hyper neurologist. I see him twice a year for updates on these meds. The pharmacy was busy as expected for a Saturday afternoon so I had to wait a time... an hour. I sat on the metal bench below the pharmacy window and watched people, prayed for them and read my latest book. I was content and the book was a good focal point, as were my prayers for the people I saw, so I wasn't overwhelmed with the busy environment. "Concentrate on others rather than me," I reminded myself several times.
When I went to pick up the pills, the sales associate quoted a price near $170! I reminded her it was workmen's comp, the same meds I've picked up there since last July, but the register wouldn't let her back out of the transaction. After almost 30 minutes of discussion with other workers, she was finally able to void everything but then I had to deal with another lady to make the billing change. Both of the pharmacy workers were rude and quite cross with me at the onset, and after being there a total of about 90 minutes I was at the outer limits of my tolerance and close to flooding or making snide remarks or both.
The error was theirs, but thanks be to God for prompting me in that "still, small voice," I simply smiled and told them I was sorry to have caused so much trouble. Those of you who know me well realize that is not my natural response to this sort of thing and can appreciate God's hand in the exchange. Both ladies warmed up quickly and even though I could not pick up one medication because it requires a special approval (every month) and the workmens comp office was closed by that time, they rang up the other pills and promised special care to fill the "on hold" one first thing Monday. They both became quite conciliatory after my kind words. It's wonderful how God saves me from myself, isn't it?
Now, back to childhood memories. Our family would now be labeled dysfunctional but I would not trade my parents and childhood for anything. My mother was what people called "high strung," which I never quite understood the meaning of. She had horrifically high blood pressure and the associated kidney and other physical ramifications of that, so she was mostly ill my whole growing up life. She was also agoraphobic and feared leaving the protection of her home. My father was "larger than life." He was everybody's friend, the life of the party. He wad what Mama called a wanderlust. We moved OFTEN and Mama dubbed these travels as "wild goose chases." Can you imagine a pair like that? She was uprooted over 70 times during their marriage yet never complained!
Daddy didn't drink... at all! But he loved the camaraderie of the bars and he usually took me with him. That's where I learned to play poker. The men even seemed to relish my wins, and we usually left well ahead of the game. I loved the attention and the adventure of it all and was dismayed when he abruptly stopped taking me to bars or on his other jaunts. They (my folks) said it was because I was becoming a young lady and it wasn't proper for me to hang out with Daddy and his cronies.
Hurt and angry, I felt rejected and hated my femininity. I wanted to be male and daydreamed I was a raven haired boy who could write music surpassing that of Mozart (my hero) and lived an adventurous life of derring-do. I had always enjoyed hanging around the boys with their more active games and I made a concerted effort to outdo all of them. I'd show my parents I could hold up to any boy! I even joined a gang for a short time - the Pachukos (not sure of spelling) in SanFrancisco's Mission District. Fortunately I found Christ a few months later and He changed my life as well as my attitude about who and what I was.
I worked in my herb garden and discovered the mint has been secretly sending out "stolens," underground extensions with roots sprouting at intervals. Hiding just below the surface these reproductive efforts are invading the space of the rosemary and thyme, not to mention the fennel. The mint plant looks small and innocent and wins my heart with its lovely greens and aromatic offerings, but I believe I'll need to segregate it because it's not sharing as it should.
Richard and I played dominos on Pogo for a time, did our Bible study lesson (2 days worth because we were a day behind) and enjoyed just being together. We talked about going to Cyprus Gardens to see Loretta Lynn but decided we would never get close enough to really enjoy the concert. They began taking reservations last December, but we were unaware. I was happy to stay home with my man. I'm so thankful for this sweet, gentle man with whom to share my love, my life, my tears and my joy.
I went to Wal-Mart with my latest six months worth of refill prescriptions from my very vocal and hyper neurologist. I see him twice a year for updates on these meds. The pharmacy was busy as expected for a Saturday afternoon so I had to wait a time... an hour. I sat on the metal bench below the pharmacy window and watched people, prayed for them and read my latest book. I was content and the book was a good focal point, as were my prayers for the people I saw, so I wasn't overwhelmed with the busy environment. "Concentrate on others rather than me," I reminded myself several times.
When I went to pick up the pills, the sales associate quoted a price near $170! I reminded her it was workmen's comp, the same meds I've picked up there since last July, but the register wouldn't let her back out of the transaction. After almost 30 minutes of discussion with other workers, she was finally able to void everything but then I had to deal with another lady to make the billing change. Both of the pharmacy workers were rude and quite cross with me at the onset, and after being there a total of about 90 minutes I was at the outer limits of my tolerance and close to flooding or making snide remarks or both.
The error was theirs, but thanks be to God for prompting me in that "still, small voice," I simply smiled and told them I was sorry to have caused so much trouble. Those of you who know me well realize that is not my natural response to this sort of thing and can appreciate God's hand in the exchange. Both ladies warmed up quickly and even though I could not pick up one medication because it requires a special approval (every month) and the workmens comp office was closed by that time, they rang up the other pills and promised special care to fill the "on hold" one first thing Monday. They both became quite conciliatory after my kind words. It's wonderful how God saves me from myself, isn't it?
Now, back to childhood memories. Our family would now be labeled dysfunctional but I would not trade my parents and childhood for anything. My mother was what people called "high strung," which I never quite understood the meaning of. She had horrifically high blood pressure and the associated kidney and other physical ramifications of that, so she was mostly ill my whole growing up life. She was also agoraphobic and feared leaving the protection of her home. My father was "larger than life." He was everybody's friend, the life of the party. He wad what Mama called a wanderlust. We moved OFTEN and Mama dubbed these travels as "wild goose chases." Can you imagine a pair like that? She was uprooted over 70 times during their marriage yet never complained!
Daddy didn't drink... at all! But he loved the camaraderie of the bars and he usually took me with him. That's where I learned to play poker. The men even seemed to relish my wins, and we usually left well ahead of the game. I loved the attention and the adventure of it all and was dismayed when he abruptly stopped taking me to bars or on his other jaunts. They (my folks) said it was because I was becoming a young lady and it wasn't proper for me to hang out with Daddy and his cronies.
Hurt and angry, I felt rejected and hated my femininity. I wanted to be male and daydreamed I was a raven haired boy who could write music surpassing that of Mozart (my hero) and lived an adventurous life of derring-do. I had always enjoyed hanging around the boys with their more active games and I made a concerted effort to outdo all of them. I'd show my parents I could hold up to any boy! I even joined a gang for a short time - the Pachukos (not sure of spelling) in SanFrancisco's Mission District. Fortunately I found Christ a few months later and He changed my life as well as my attitude about who and what I was.
© 2006 by Iona Hoeppner
| 8:30 PM
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