Tag: transportation

Gus Deployment Part Two

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

Before soaring on United Airlines one day in August, two TSA people panicked when I placed a pet carrier on the security conveyor belt.

I said to their reaching hands, “It’s empty. Don’t worry.”

Whew! Their blue shirts relaxed a bit.

“I am heading to get my son’s cat,” I said to more people than probably wanted to know that day.

My mission: Get the cat. Keep my emotions in check. Spend as little money as possible. Stretch granola in backpack.

One thing I’ve learned about being a military mom is that tears are the enemy to be embraced. I can be happy for our son = tears. I can be proud = tears. Saying hello = tears. Saying goodbye = tears.

Fight them and the tears are worse. I attempt to embrace and let them pass. If you’re a military parent, you know this roller coaster.

Son-1 and I strive for what we call “the good good-bye”. He tries to laugh when my face swells. There is something about military life that makes the words “gut wrenching” meaningful as an experience rather than a phrase.

Once in New Mexico, I see in our son right away that he is feeling about his cat a little like what I feel when he and I separate for months at a time. He hugs Gus, plays with Gus, and takes long looks at Gus. I imagine he is burning the memory of Gus into his soul with enough love to last for many months until they reunite.

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Meanwhile on minimal sleep for a 24 hour trip, my mind focuses on how to get a cat across the country without losing him.

“Ok, Mom. You guys have to go now,” Son-1 said about 40 minutes before I planned to leave that morning. He did not want to cry. I understood.

We place a “calming collar” on Gus and put him in the pet carrier.

“Here. I got you these,” Son-1 hands me breakfast. It was thoughtful of him to stop at a gas station for Pepsi and Swedish Fish with me in mind.

I stress-nosh on the red fish when Gus begins to wail in the car. Have I mentioned that Gus and I had to drive 90 miles to the airport?

Son-1 and GF warned me that Gus does not like car rides, but I know his wail is more than a dislike of the car. Gus knew I was taking him from his people.

Gus cried.

I cried.

Hubby called once while I was stopped in the desert by a police blockade. Missiles were being tested nearby. Stopping only made Gus cry louder.

“It will be ok, Gus.” I turn him so he can see me through his net. That didn’t help. I wonder if his claws will rip the carrier netting. Then I remember that I packed a small roll of duct tape. Hopefully I will not need to figure out how to repair or get him back in the carrier if he escapes.

I hyperventilate on the phone to Hubby, “Don’t. Tell Son-1. That. Gus. Is.” Inhale, “Crying.”

“Honey, catch your own breath. It will be ok.”

Sure it will. I am in new territory: alone with a cat, saying good-bye to our son for his first deployment overseas, and driving toward El Paso, Texas which dripped with sadness in the air from recent events.

There are security options with a pet in an airport. I could take the cat out of the carrier and walk through the screening device. No way. Or I could request the private room to take the cat out of the container. Sigh.

In the private room, the TSA agents share horror stories, “One time a cat died right here at this check point.”

What?!

“Yep, the owner overmedicated the cat.”

I feel so glad we did not medicate Gus. I zip him back inside with our new bonding and determination. We can do this, Gussie-boy. G-ma will protect you.

At our layover, I bravely allow Gus to walk around an indoor pet spot.

I pose him for a picture near the airport’s USO. “We are on task, buddy.”

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He and I people watch at airport gates.

Inside the carrier is one of Son-1’s worn t-shirts. I explain to the cat that the shirt is for comfort.

“Don’t worry, Gus, your owners will be back for you.”

The t-shirt also connects the dots of smells for the pets waiting at home. Once back in Greater Cincinnati, there was minimal quarantine time and/or hissing by our welcome wagon pets. They recognized Son-1’s scent. They gave us looks like, “WTH? Meow. Ok, fine.”

Gus settled in with cat toys, scratch pads, and favorite play-sleep spots. He marvels at the new sights through our window: chipmunks, leaves, grass, snow flurries. It’s different here.

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And sometimes Gus hangs out near the door patiently waiting for Son-1 and GF to return.

Job 12:7 But ask the animals, and they will teach you…

Posts about Gus are dedicated to his cat parents who are currently deployed separately in the military. Please pray for the men and women who endure loneliness in the name of freedom during this holiday season.

Let there be peace on earth.

GF, Son-1, Gus, & their promise rings.

GF, Son-1, Gus, & their promise rings.

Gus the Deployed Cat

Published on by Glenna S. EdwardsLeave a comment

Our oldest son, let’s call him Son-1, has been in the military 3 years.

After moving out of an Air Force base dormitory and into an apartment in New Mexico, he began considering pet ownership.

He talked the idea over with us and his girlfriend (GF) for several months. Son-1 and GF landed on a cat being the best option for them. “But,” he asked me. “If I have to deploy, Mom, would you come get the cat?”

Would I come get the cat?! The words stuck with me for a while. I convinced myself that Oh, it will be a while before that could happen. And Oh, maybe if he deploys, then the timing will work out that his girlfriend or someone else can care for the animal. I won’t really be needed.

We are the type of family that stick with a pet for life. Ultimately I am glad Son-1 got that memo. Pet care is a serious commitment. He’s turning out to be a responsible guy. I think surely my son won’t need me in this way, but if he does, I said, “Yes. I’ll be there.”

I pause here to mention that when our first pet, an insane nearly untrainable and somewhat aggressive 10 lb. dog passed away, then it was a full 9 years before we were willing to have a pet again.

And–once upon a time, I was not a cat person at all. I harbored years of judgement against cats. What I saw and smelled at various homes growing up was not something I wanted in my life. But then one day in 2010 I fell for the tiniest little kitten in Jackson County. I remember our young boys whispered to Hubby, “Mom. Picked. Up. A. Cat.” And Hubby whispered, “Yeah, something’s going down here. She never does that.”

We brought that sweet baby home.

I bought good cat litter. We established twice per day scoop policies. The next year we gave her a friend. Two cats. Clearly I lost my mind.

Fast forward back to last year, Son-1 and GF chose a cat named Gus from a shelter. He had been left behind by other people once or twice. Gus would be left behind no more.

“He is cross-eyed, Mom,” Son-1 said over the phone. “The vet doesn’t think he’ll do well if he is out in the wild.” So Indoor Gus began a sweet life with his new mom and dad.

And Hubby and I felt somewhat like distant cat grandparents.

The first time I met Gus I observed that because of his eye situation he tilts his head back to see when you walk into a room. It looks like he says, “Whaz up?” every time.

Gus out of NM Window

For several months we enjoyed pics and texts about their life with Gus. They were a happy little pet inclusive family.

Then GF received notice of deployment. She had several months to prepare. The couple thought they’d cuddle with their cat until she left. Then we were all surprised when Son-1 received notice that he also would deploy but with only 3 weeks notice. Eek! Gus moved up on the extended family priority list. I had made the promise, so you know what happened next.

We rapidly picked the 24 hours that I would fly alone 3200 miles round trip on a tight budget to get Gus. Hubby and I couldn’t help but feel like I was going to get our grandchild-cat.

G-ma is coming!

[End of part one. Stay tuned for part two.]

Job 12:7 But ask the animals, and they will teach you…

Gus downward pose
*The story of Gus is posted with permission of his 21 year old active duty military parents.

A Little Hungry

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

If I could assign “required reading” for adults on the planet, then I would put on the list Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, And A Mother’s Will To Survive by Stephanie Land. Buy it, read it, “get” it.

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Stephanie writes about the days when she had a small child, no other reliable adult support, lived in a mold ridden apartment that made them sick, and worked as a maid. For me, as a woman who struggles a bit now and as a daughter of a mom who cleaned houses for 20 plus years on top of her day job, this book echoed through my whole being.

People need to know what it is like to be in Stephanie’s shoes. The juggle is intense. What might seem like the most common things become road blocks. For example, recently a woman asked me if she could use my computer to fill out and print a Section 8 form. When I said of course, her relief was visible. Her forehead, shoulders, and arms relaxed; measurable only in millimeters on the exhale, right in front of me.

If we really want to help people in poverty, then we need to help with things like printing and transportation. And we need to nix the judgemental and marketing manipulative attitudes.

Some people give others the stink-eye because someone who may appear to be poor has what looks like a smartphone. But let me tell you that phone likely does not do everything your phone does. That person may only pay for a certain number of minutes at a time. What may be your daily lifeline is a tool that comes and goes for them. Imagine how quickly you might run out of minutes with no money to get more. Over the summer, a woman called me to help her track the bus route progress. She had a phone but no internet. She was waiting at a bus stop and trying to get to the hospital to see her child. She talked me through how to use my phone to look up the live bus line.

And how about the environmental marketing that impacts people in poverty? If you go into Kroger in a fancy neighborhood, the alcohol may be in a separate side store or tucked in a pergola looking back section of the store. If you go into a Kroger in an area with higher poverty, then the alcohol is in front and often near the checkout like candy for the young and old to see all year long. Cigarettes and E-cigs? Where do you think the most vape shops are and the most colorful nicotine addictive luring posters?

If we really cared, mental health and self care learning options would be accessible at the unemployment office and government offices that give assistance. We could teach better options. We could make healthy resources easier to connect with. We could.

The prolonged brain strain begins to physically hurt. I know first hand the constant pressure of trying to pay bills with no way to save toward the inevitable broken appliance, car repair, etc. I must write down every little to-do item or I will forget. I think of this time in our lives as either go-to-work or shelter-in-place and allow time to pass until the next paycheck.

When Hubby needed help today he said, “No because it’s not fair to you.” I replied, “Thanks for the acknowledgement. And this is not fair to either one of us. We’re in this [ALS-21] together.”

People say you either get better or get bitter. I think that is true, but my brain hurting likely will not go away until we sell the house and start over. I cast vision daily in my mind of what it will look like when we are no longer slave to a mortgage after losing his income, and when we are in a more accessible location so I can stop worrying about how Hubby will make it up or down stairs.

My “getting better” is in the appreciation of many small things. I notice beauty around me. Every time there is hot water I am thankful. When I open the fridge door to cold food, I am delighted. Groceries are golden. When a friend bought me two tacos, I felt joy to ditch tuna and peanut butter on a long pre-paycheck week. I have hugged the washer and dryer in appreciation for their endurance. I marveled at this sunset Saturday night:

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If you struggle, you are not alone. Stephanie Land reminds us of that.

What would you place on the required adult reading list?

Love,

Glenna

3 Ways to Increase Summer Reading

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

Once upon a time I remember glorious pre-teen summers days filled with plenty of time to read books.  I either read for hours while sitting in a bean bag chair or received permission to hang out with my BFF at the community pool.  At the pool with matted wet hair we played the UNO card game or read our latest library books side by side.  I savored the smell of book pages mixed with the scent of sunscreen and damp towels.

Then along came “adulting”.  Time to read felt scarce as responsibilities expanded.  Half read books piled up in my house through the years.  Then, thanks to a dear friend’s suggestions, I found new favorite ways to increase my reading time:

1.  Log in to your local library online.  Download the app they suggest so you can check out books via your smartphone.  For example, my app is Hoopla.  Connect your library card to the app and wah lah!  My library allows 12 book downloads per month.  I listen to books during my daily commute.  In the last 2 years I’ve easily completed 3-4 books per month.  I look forward to drive time.  I enjoy the time to learn or adventure through new stories.  Some books aren’t recorded but can still be downloaded for electronic page turn reading.

2.  When I want to specifically support an author or can’t find a book through the library, I turn to Audible.  Audible charges a monthly fee which translates to credits when you want to buy a book.  Audible remembers what you’ve bought and keeps an online library ready for you.  I find that credits build up faster than I expect and I always have enough when it’s time to buy a book.

3.  Yes, I still do like the feel of a physical book in my hands.  When I keep a reading light and current books on my night stand, I am more likely to read before going to sleep.  I feel cozy and relaxed with a comforter and a book.

Bonus:  4.  My BFF from the pool long ago has a double win reading strategy.  She helps the environment by riding the bus to work.  Also, bus rides are reading time for her!  She plows through books.  I admire her reading dedication.

I am much happier now that continuous learning and personal growth through reading books is a steady part of my life.

How do you make time for reading?  I’d love to hear about your ideas.

Glenna

P.S. Photo was taken downtown Cleveland, Ohio 07/07/18.

P.P.S. One of my favorite blogs is called Make America Read Again.  It’s worth checking out for more great info about reading and book reviews.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DON’T DRAG THE ORANGE CONES

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards2 Comments

I cried out wimpered to God on my drive to one of our workshop schools. I longed to read God’s Word, but I had not made the time yet that day. My drive time prayer went something like:

Dear God,
I praise you. You have the answers and you know I am struggling. I’m fighting feelings of being left out or not being picked. Why did they choose someone else over me? Why do I care? And why am I wasting the mind space to think about this? I know if I had read your Word today that peace would fill me and keep me moving forward. I don’t want to battle negativity. I don’t want to hurt like this. Show me what I need to know in order to let this minor pain go. Amen

Then I thought about the kind cards and words I received the previous week from people offering sweet birthday wishes. I thought about how people seem to think I’m a positive person and usually smiling. Yeah, well I’m still plagued with being human. We all have areas to overcome. I don’t want to be phony. The best compliment is when I hear someone say “you’re authentic”. And let me tell you, I can be authentically a mess as well as someone who has it together. Continuous improvement and staying upbeat are goals of mine, but this day I felt kinda low.

Then God provided an illustration.

What is that horrible noise? I thought my tire may have gone flat. I slowed down and stopped. Getting out of the van I saw part of the problem. I had run over orange cones in the school parking lot. Now my van was dragging them. I pulled out a couple cones and returned them to their proper spot. Lord, did anyone see me?

Embarrassed and back in the van, I continued to drive. Then the noise came back. What?! I stopped again. And again. Another cone was wedged under the van and was not coming out unless I crawled underneath on the wet, dirty pavement. My work day was not done so I didn’t want to get dirty.

I drove some more. I considered driving over bumps and dips in the road to encourage the cone to come out.

I felt like God was saying: See. Carrying around hurt and pain is like dragging orange cones. They cause you to have to stop and start a lot.

Then the cone fell out. My time wasted dragging orange cones was over. I raised an eyebrow toward heaven and considered how that experience was a perfect illustration of how we drag negativity around with us.

God will take care of the orange cones. I don’t need to drag those painful feelings with me. Negativity will only slow me down.

Today I will read God’s word earlier in the day and dwell on verses that fill me with comfort and joy.

If you are carrying around orange cones, here are a couple helpful verses. God bless you. May you be encouraged.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:8-9

When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul. Psalm 94:19

Glenna