It was around the fall of 1995 when Brian purchased an Eddie Bauer, 2 door, Ford Bronco II, navy blue with cream trim. It even had a sunroof with it. He bought it after his older pick-up truck, that we called Big Blue, went out. He had to take a loan out for it and he was nervous on doing so because he never had a loan from a bank before. He looked at the sales man who wanted to offer us a 2 year loan contract and Brian said, "Two years? I don't know if I can make a commitment that long!" He said that meaning more of where the economy might be in two years and where he would be financially.
I looked at him wide-eyed, "You CAN'T make a two year commitment yet you want me to marry you? At least I am finding this out now!" We all laughed.
He eventually made the purchase and he was enslaved for a little over $220 a month for the next few years. While he was out trucking over the road he let me use it at college as long as I would pick him up when he returned back home. My mom's husband's family was having a get together at Michigan's Adventure in Muskegon. Brian said I could use the Bronco to drive there. While leaving the park I noticed the beige tire cover on the back was missing. I felt horrible. When I told Brian about it he laughed and said we could get another one and that it was no big deal, We never did replace it. Even now as we see a Bronco similar to what ours was we check to see if the tire cover is on theirs.
I remember my sister and I would go shopping and we would try to fit her daughter's infant car seat in the back. She had to hold her daughter while I had to twist the car seat around at different angles and upside down and wiggle its way to the back seat. After I got it in the backseat I had to climb in the back myself to buckle it in. My sister would pass her daughter over to me and I would place her in the infant car seat and buckle her in. It really took some talent and time get the infant car seat all set up properly.
Fast forward several months to late summer in 1996. I was 19 and finished off my first year at Grand Valley State University and I moved in with Brian. We lived on the boarder line of Gobles and Allegan in Michigan. We just found out we were expecting our first little baby in April the following year. He was busy trucking for TML out of Grand Rapids and I worked for Family Dollar in Allegan. Things were going good for us.
It was a Sunday when the unthinkable happened. I had my friend Rhonda over and we were watching Scott (Brian's brother's son) who was around 11 or 12 at the time. Brian called from a payphone to tell me that he was on his way to Grand Rapids and to come and pick him up from the TML terminal. I was so excited. It was a week since I had seen him last. We all piled into the Bronco and made our way north to Grand Rapids.
We were having a good ol' time of singing to the radio songs and driving north on U.S. 131 coming near the Cutlerville area when the Bronco started to shake real bad and make loud noises. I reached over and shut off the radio so I can hear the sounds better. The steering wheel wobbled heavily in my hand. Something was seriously wrong. A rest area was just coming up on our right (the rest area has now been torn down for the construction of M-6). I managed to work the wheel to pull into there and find a parking spot.
We all get out and I lift the hood and look into the engine. I had no idea what I was looking at. The parts I was looking at were dark and dirty looking. I didn't know what to do. Rhonda and Scott were just clueless at what was going on. I knew something wasn't right and that I shouldn't be driving it. Even if I could drive it the Bronco was nearly impossible to control. I was so close to Grand Rapids yet too far to tempt to drive it or to walk. We were stuck there at the rest area.
I go over to the pay phones and called my sister. I was running low on coins so I had to be specific and brief in what I said. I told her the Bronco broke down and that she needed to have her husband Doug drive out to where Brian worked, pick him up and tell him we are broke down. The downside was that they didn't know exactly where Brian's terminal was and I didn't know the street names to tell her. I just remembered the route by going with Brian several times before. The task couldn't be done.
We went back to the Bronco and stared at the engine as if by magic it would fix itself and remove us from this horrible situation. A middle aged man nearby was going through the garbage bins looking for soda bottles. He noticed our drama and started to make his way towards us. He said he knew a little bit about cars and asked if he could help. I figured it couldn't hurt any if he looked at it. I motioned for him to take a glance. He started to twist off caps and pull some sort of measuring sticks out of the engine.
I just wanted to take this moment to explain my background knowledge of cars. The only thing I knew about cars was put the key in the ignition, how to put in gas, mover the shifter bar to drive and reverse, how to break, how to press on the gas pedal, how to use my blinker, how to turn on the lights, how to use my wipers and how to turn on the radio. Outside of my little circle of knowledge about cars I knew nothing. I was completely ignorant. I didn't care to learn about it. I just want a car to go from point A to point B. I had no interest in the mechanics of how it worked.
The man looks up with a grim look on his face. "Your dipstick is dry."
I look at him blankly, "and that means....."
He shot me a glace to see if I seriously didn't know or if I was being sarcastic. "You are without oil. Do you have any on you?"
I still didn't know what to think. I told him I didn't have any on me. I couldn't even tell anyone where to pick any up at. He said he would see if he had any in his car. I walked over with him and he had a son about 8 or 9 years old in the old rundown car. I felt bad for him and his misfortune but ironically he was the one who seemed to feel bad for me and expressed concern. He fumbled through his trunk and pulled out a few black bottles. He tried to add it to the Bronco. He asked for me to start it up and it sounded loud and shook violently. He immediately told me to shut it off.
"I think you have blown a rod." Again I give him a blank look as I have no clue to what he is talking about, "Do you have far to go?"
"I am on my way to pick up my boyfriend. He's a truck driver." I reply back.
"How about if I give you all a ride to him?" he asks.
I look over at Rhonda and Scott. I didn't know what to do. I know we are not supposed to take rides from strangers. His car looked like it was ready to fall apart as it is and we just seen him go through the garbage. Do we dare go with him? I know if bad things happen Rhonda and I are old enough to take care of ourselves but I had my nephew to think about. It wasn't just my life I was putting at risk if I took the offer for a ride, it was another person's life. On the other hand I couldn't just stay there with everyone either. I said a little prayer of protection from God. "Alright." I said.
Before we left I called my sister one last time to let her know I was getting a ride to Brian's work. She thought I was crazy for getting a ride but I felt as if I didn't have a choice.
We proceeded our way north down the highway. Rhonda and Scott sat in the back along with his son. I felt secure keeping my hand on the door's handle. I found myself concentrating to keep breathing. I was so scared. I kept looking back at Scott and Rhonda making sure they were okay. The man obeyed every direction I gave him. I started to feel relieved that he was truly going to take us to Brian's work and not kidnap us. I was very thankful when he turned into the trucking terminal and Brian was there waiting for us.
He talked with the man about the condition of the Bronco. It all seemed like doctor's jargon - a language only they can understand. All of it seemed so foreign to me. Shortly, the man and his son left. Brian told us that TML granted us permission to take the semi home and we should hop in. Rhonda and Scott were excited about getting into the semi truck. I had already been in a semi before and I do enjoy the rides. But I knew Brian was upset and I wasn't going to enjoy this ride home.
He asked me why I didn't check the oil. I told him I never knew I had to check the oil. I also told him I never knew how or where to check the oil. He grew up working around cars and trucks so for him it was all second nature. He didn't understand how I didn't know. He explained to me that oil is like the car's blood and without it a car cannot run. I still didn't understand the depths of it all. I kept thinking just add more oil and it will be okay. But Brian further explained that by not having oil in the Bronco it kills the engine and the whole engine would need to be replaced which is very expensive. We still owed on the Bronco and we couldn't even use it. Now I was starting to see how major of a deal this whole thing was. I felt beyond horrible.
He made his way around Grand Rapids so we could head back to the rest stop. He looks the Bronco over and declares that the engine is blown. He wasn't happy to say the least and I don't blame him for being mad. It was silent for a moment as we made our way back home. Rhonda, sitting on the bed in the bunk, broke the silence to ask Brian a bunch of questions about the trucking industry. It sort of calmed him down talking about it.
We did make it back home and eventually purchased another vehicle from the side of the road and that is a whole other blog in itself. The Bronco wouldn't of made a good use for a family vehicle anyway but I would of rather tried selling it rather than having the motor blow out on it. Now I am a little wiser in checking the oil and learning where to take the car for oil changes. It was an expensive lessoned learned.
Showing posts with label 1995. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1995. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Sundae Disaster
It was the summer of 1995. I just finished off my senior year at Grandville High School and I was getting ready to attend Grand Valley State University in the fall. I ended up getting a new job as a waitress at a popular chain restaurant in western Michigan. I am not going to reveal the name of this restaurant as they are still in business and well respected in the area. I still enjoy their great food and delicious pies, especially my personal favorite, rhubarb pie.
It started out as a great place to work. The servers had a set schedule to work during the week. It made it easy for those who were moonlighting other jobs. Breakfast and dinner staff never intertwined. If a server worked Friday then they would have Saturday off and next weekend the server would work Saturday and have Friday off. The restaurant was closed Sundays. The schedule was fair to all. On occurances if someone needed their time off they would post a note on a bulletin board in the break room. Servers wanting more hours can look at the board and pick up other server's hours. It worked out quiet nice.
Upon my hiring I told my manager that on Thursday nights that he had me scheduled I would have to change it because I was already scheduled to have an evening class Thursday nights. He was wonderful about it and said when the time got closer that we would be able to switch it around. I was thrilled working there with a set schedule and a great staff. I waitressed at a previous restaurant, Apple Blossom Family Restaurant, and I really enjoyed it.
During my break, one day, I was in the mood for a bowl of cheesy broccoli soup. I went to another waitress to ring up my order.
"You don't want a bowl." she replies back to me.
I give her a strange look, "Yes, I do." I say politely yet firmly back.
"Trust me, " she says, "Let me ring you up a cup of soup then I will show you why."
She leads me over to where the soups are kept. Several keg style containers held a variety of soups. The waitress dips the ladel in the cheesy broccoli soup and pours it into my cup. It filled the cup.
"Now watch this." she says. She dips the same ladel into the soup and pours it into the bowl. It fills up that as well. "The presentation of it plays with your mind. The cup is smaller but taller than the bowl whereas the bowl is wider giving the impression of having more."
I was shocked by the revelation. How sneaky! I wondered how many other restaurants do that same trick. From then on in my life when I order soup I order the cup, never a bowl.
Things were going smoothly for a few more weeks until one weekend night. It must of been a hot evening because the customers who were coming in were wanting sundae's. Part of our job as a waitress was to make the sundae's. I have never been good at scooping ice cream. It's cold and hard and if you don't watch your grip your scoop can go flying across the room. Somehow as I scoop, the back of my hand would touch the sides of the container getting the back of my hands all full of ice cream. I just didn't like the added mess. But scooping was part of the job so I didn't mind it too much having to scoop now and then.
I had two masterpiece large hot fudge sundae's on a tray that I was about to take out. The 3 scoops of ice cream was layered with hot fudge, topped with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry placed perfectly on top. It was so beautifully made that it should of been a picture. I pick up the tray and begin to take it out. The manager comes around the corner and stops me looking concerned.
"Did you measure those sundae's?" he asks.
"Measure? I didn't know we had to weigh them." I replied back.
He lead me back over to the dessert station and in the back corner he pulls out a small scale. He places one of the sundae's on the scale. It was way over the recommended weight for the sundae's. He told me to give these sundae's to the dishwashers to eat and he would show me how to make a sundae within the recommended weight. He drops two small scoops of ice cream into the tall dessert glass. He drizzles a scoopful of the hot fudge over the top and lightly adding the whipped cream, nuts and cherry. He places the sundae back on the scale. It was the recommended weight. It was sad looking. All the sundae pieces were within the sides of the glass. It was nothing like picture perfect. I would be disappointed if I was served this. But he made me serve it anyway. With a sad heart I delivered my pitaful sundae's.
Shortly later another table orders sundae's, both large and small. I was annoyed how the small and the large sundae held the same amount of scoops yet I had to make it look like the large had more. Sure enough as I was about to serve them the manager comes around the corner and wanted to see the weight on my sundae's. It was still over the recommended weight. This time he wanted me to give them to the cooks and do it again. I was getting very frustrated over this. I did like he said but I guess my scoops held more than his did.
More and more tables were ordering sundae's. It seemed like a cruel joke. I just couldn't get them right. The manager was getting more and more upset with me. When a customered ordered them I would wait to make them until I knew the manager was either in the back room harrassing someone else or on the floor checking up on other tables. I was about it tears. At one point I had to grab another waitress to make them for me because I didn't want to get yelled at again. She left them on the counter for me. I grabbed my tray and the sundae nazi of a manager came around the corner. He looked at my sundae's. I looked back at him with a confident smile since I knew they had to of been right since the other waitress made them for me. He picked one up and placed it on the scale. It was over by a few ounces. He told me to make them again. Seriously? A few ounces over! I was ready to toss the sundae at him. At one point I was so nervous making the sundae's that as I was delivering them to an elderly couple the tall glass tipped over and accendently dropped one in the lap of the elderly gentleman. I was so shocked. I never dropped anything before and of course it had to be on this day with the hot fudge sundae. I offered to pay for their desserts and I went back to make another one for him. I wanted to crawl into a hold after that moment.
After when customers were through eating I would stop asking them for dessert. I purposely was rude to customers and not go back to check on them because I didn't want them to order sundae's. I would walk by acting like I was extremely busy and place their check's down on the table. I just wanted my hellish night of sundae making to be over with. Some customers just came in for dessert and I would cringe when they would order the sundae's. I wanted to tell them that the sundae's were not impressive, that they were lacking in every which way but I couldn't. I wanted to let them know that they would be disappointed in my sundae's as the manager made me make them look pitiful and not delicious looking like the picture in the menu. Then I would turn and enter the kitchen of doom to prepare their lousy dessert.
The night finally ended and I was more than glad to go home. I don't think that manager ever bothered me about the desserts ever again. I don't know if he was having a bad day and taking it out on me or what his deal was that night. I just let it go and put that bad day behind me.
College was starting up soon and I talked with him about changing my schedule around like he promised when I first signed up to work at the restaurant. He changed his story around and said it was my responsibility to find someone to work my shift. I was upset by that. I asked around but servers either needed that day at home or they worked another job and couldn't do it. That Thursday afternoon, when I knew my manager would be there, I called in and said I wouldn't be coming anymore. He asked me why. I told him my class was more important and I couldn't find anyone to switch a day with him. He was upset with me. I reminded him what he said when he first hired me and he tried to apologize but it was too late. It was time for me to move on and start another chapter in my life.
It started out as a great place to work. The servers had a set schedule to work during the week. It made it easy for those who were moonlighting other jobs. Breakfast and dinner staff never intertwined. If a server worked Friday then they would have Saturday off and next weekend the server would work Saturday and have Friday off. The restaurant was closed Sundays. The schedule was fair to all. On occurances if someone needed their time off they would post a note on a bulletin board in the break room. Servers wanting more hours can look at the board and pick up other server's hours. It worked out quiet nice.
Upon my hiring I told my manager that on Thursday nights that he had me scheduled I would have to change it because I was already scheduled to have an evening class Thursday nights. He was wonderful about it and said when the time got closer that we would be able to switch it around. I was thrilled working there with a set schedule and a great staff. I waitressed at a previous restaurant, Apple Blossom Family Restaurant, and I really enjoyed it.
During my break, one day, I was in the mood for a bowl of cheesy broccoli soup. I went to another waitress to ring up my order.
"You don't want a bowl." she replies back to me.
I give her a strange look, "Yes, I do." I say politely yet firmly back.
"Trust me, " she says, "Let me ring you up a cup of soup then I will show you why."
She leads me over to where the soups are kept. Several keg style containers held a variety of soups. The waitress dips the ladel in the cheesy broccoli soup and pours it into my cup. It filled the cup.
"Now watch this." she says. She dips the same ladel into the soup and pours it into the bowl. It fills up that as well. "The presentation of it plays with your mind. The cup is smaller but taller than the bowl whereas the bowl is wider giving the impression of having more."
I was shocked by the revelation. How sneaky! I wondered how many other restaurants do that same trick. From then on in my life when I order soup I order the cup, never a bowl.
Things were going smoothly for a few more weeks until one weekend night. It must of been a hot evening because the customers who were coming in were wanting sundae's. Part of our job as a waitress was to make the sundae's. I have never been good at scooping ice cream. It's cold and hard and if you don't watch your grip your scoop can go flying across the room. Somehow as I scoop, the back of my hand would touch the sides of the container getting the back of my hands all full of ice cream. I just didn't like the added mess. But scooping was part of the job so I didn't mind it too much having to scoop now and then.
I had two masterpiece large hot fudge sundae's on a tray that I was about to take out. The 3 scoops of ice cream was layered with hot fudge, topped with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry placed perfectly on top. It was so beautifully made that it should of been a picture. I pick up the tray and begin to take it out. The manager comes around the corner and stops me looking concerned.
"Did you measure those sundae's?" he asks.
"Measure? I didn't know we had to weigh them." I replied back.
He lead me back over to the dessert station and in the back corner he pulls out a small scale. He places one of the sundae's on the scale. It was way over the recommended weight for the sundae's. He told me to give these sundae's to the dishwashers to eat and he would show me how to make a sundae within the recommended weight. He drops two small scoops of ice cream into the tall dessert glass. He drizzles a scoopful of the hot fudge over the top and lightly adding the whipped cream, nuts and cherry. He places the sundae back on the scale. It was the recommended weight. It was sad looking. All the sundae pieces were within the sides of the glass. It was nothing like picture perfect. I would be disappointed if I was served this. But he made me serve it anyway. With a sad heart I delivered my pitaful sundae's.
Shortly later another table orders sundae's, both large and small. I was annoyed how the small and the large sundae held the same amount of scoops yet I had to make it look like the large had more. Sure enough as I was about to serve them the manager comes around the corner and wanted to see the weight on my sundae's. It was still over the recommended weight. This time he wanted me to give them to the cooks and do it again. I was getting very frustrated over this. I did like he said but I guess my scoops held more than his did.
More and more tables were ordering sundae's. It seemed like a cruel joke. I just couldn't get them right. The manager was getting more and more upset with me. When a customered ordered them I would wait to make them until I knew the manager was either in the back room harrassing someone else or on the floor checking up on other tables. I was about it tears. At one point I had to grab another waitress to make them for me because I didn't want to get yelled at again. She left them on the counter for me. I grabbed my tray and the sundae nazi of a manager came around the corner. He looked at my sundae's. I looked back at him with a confident smile since I knew they had to of been right since the other waitress made them for me. He picked one up and placed it on the scale. It was over by a few ounces. He told me to make them again. Seriously? A few ounces over! I was ready to toss the sundae at him. At one point I was so nervous making the sundae's that as I was delivering them to an elderly couple the tall glass tipped over and accendently dropped one in the lap of the elderly gentleman. I was so shocked. I never dropped anything before and of course it had to be on this day with the hot fudge sundae. I offered to pay for their desserts and I went back to make another one for him. I wanted to crawl into a hold after that moment.
After when customers were through eating I would stop asking them for dessert. I purposely was rude to customers and not go back to check on them because I didn't want them to order sundae's. I would walk by acting like I was extremely busy and place their check's down on the table. I just wanted my hellish night of sundae making to be over with. Some customers just came in for dessert and I would cringe when they would order the sundae's. I wanted to tell them that the sundae's were not impressive, that they were lacking in every which way but I couldn't. I wanted to let them know that they would be disappointed in my sundae's as the manager made me make them look pitiful and not delicious looking like the picture in the menu. Then I would turn and enter the kitchen of doom to prepare their lousy dessert.
The night finally ended and I was more than glad to go home. I don't think that manager ever bothered me about the desserts ever again. I don't know if he was having a bad day and taking it out on me or what his deal was that night. I just let it go and put that bad day behind me.
College was starting up soon and I talked with him about changing my schedule around like he promised when I first signed up to work at the restaurant. He changed his story around and said it was my responsibility to find someone to work my shift. I was upset by that. I asked around but servers either needed that day at home or they worked another job and couldn't do it. That Thursday afternoon, when I knew my manager would be there, I called in and said I wouldn't be coming anymore. He asked me why. I told him my class was more important and I couldn't find anyone to switch a day with him. He was upset with me. I reminded him what he said when he first hired me and he tried to apologize but it was too late. It was time for me to move on and start another chapter in my life.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Camera Operator for "Ask The Pastor" on the Christian Station WTLJ
Yesterday I had the honor of watching and being an extra to a short film (Chrysalis The Film) come to life in Reed City, Michigan. It was fascinating to watch the people beind the scenes making sure the lighting was perfect and the camera's had the right angle. Soon my thoughts were taken adrift back to 1995 where I was a cameraman for the Christian television station WTLJ out of Allendale, Michigan.
It was an Autumn day in 1995. I was in my first year of college at Grand Valley State University. The Renaissance Festival had finished up (September 18 blog: My Performance in the GVSU Renaissance Festival) and I was looking for something else to occupy my time, preferably a job. I would go to the counseling center and look at the job postings. Then one ad caught my eye. It was a volunteer position to be a cameraman for WTLJ which was right around the corner from the GVSU campus. That sounds interesting, I thought. True, it didn't pay anything but I was certainly curious. So I called on it and an interview was set up in a couple of days.
The interview wasn't much of an interview. It was more of "how to" as they told me I was going to film the live tv show "Ask the Pastor". I was in shock. Live? What if I mess up? I never did this type of thing before. I was a projectionist at my Catholic Church growing up but that wasn't nothing compare to this. My thoughts were in panic mode but I didn't let it show on the outside. I smiled and nodded and kept myself reserved.
"Ask the Pastor" was a live show set up kinda a like a game show. There was the host and there was a panel of 4 pastors from different churches in the west Michigan area. They had, which I would say, regulars and every now and there would be a different pastor that would show up. I remember Pastor Trimm. He was a large man with dark hair and fastly growing speckles of gray throughout his hair and beard. He was also loud, abrupt and animated with his actions when he answered questions and fun to watch. In almost every episode he would end up holding his Bible high up in the air shouting in a deep voice, "This is the truth; The whole truth; And nothing but the truth, And in God's Almighty name let us say Amen!" You couldn't help but say Amen after that even if I could only whisper it.
Live calls would come in from people in the area and every now and then a letter would be read by the host. The phone lines were constantly busy by people wanting to know more insight on God's word and how to interpret it. I never heard of the show previously. I never heard of the station before. I knew who God was but I was still at an infant stage with my Christianity. I am still working on my Christianity but I have come a long away. Anyway, the host would make sure the pastor's stayed on track and everyone had a chance to speak in a timely manner. Sometimes debates would break out between pastors on the interpretation of scripture and after a few moments the host would try to settle the manner and move on to the next caller.
The producer showed me how to use the huge cameras. She shows me how to pan left, pan right, zoom in and zoom out. She said that was all I needed to know and it was really quite simple. I was introduced to a late-middle aged lady who was the main camera operator and to another volunteer camera operator who was an elderly man. Then she handed me a headset (earphones with a microphone) to put on and went into another room so we can do a trial run before the show.
The camera's were huge. I had to step up on a circular platform that was connected to the camera. Huge handles stuck out from the side and the ends rotated to zoom in and zoom out. I tilted it up so it would be level to the panel where the pastors sit and remember feeling the heavy weight of the camera. If I let go the camera could slowly point downwards so I had to make sure I had a good grip on it. Even panning left and right you could still feel the weight of it. There was two viewing areas. One was what the camera was viewing and the other is what was being seen on TV. Looking at that one you can adjust the headspace and make sure they are centered correctly if need be.
Over my ear piece a sound broke the silence, "Okay Jill. Can you hear me?" I replied yes back into the microphone attachment, "I want you to focus on the sign "Ask the Pastor" and zoom in closely and slowly on the P." I would start to zoom in and direction would be given if I was going to fast or if I was going to slow. After a few attempts I figured out the speed and pressure of zooming. "Now I want you to zoom in to have just the sign showing then slowly pan down and zoom out to the panel of pastors." I did just that. All was going good.
The panel of pastors soon arrived and we were ready for the live show. A stampede of wilderbeasts were running around my stomach, I was so nervous. I had to be quiet as a mouse and listen to the prompts that they gave to me. When I seen a red light inside my camera I was told that my camera was on and I had to be careful about moving my camera then. She would have me focus on one pastor, switch to another camrea, then have me focus on another pastor and she would switch back to my camera. I realized that the producer was a chatter box when the show was going on, even making funny jokes every now and then. At times, we cameramen, looked at each other with huge smiles on our faces trying not to laugh or make any sounds. I really enjoyed working behind the scenes. When we were done with the show the producer would say through our headsets, "That's a rap!" and we would take off our headsets, place them neatly on top of the machines and shut them down. On a monitor off to the side we can see that a commercial was already started on the station. Overall, it really wasn't too difficult.
Soon they would have me come in and do specials and help film the Christmas "Thank You" commercials set to music. This one time I had a really bad cough due to a cold I had. I was dropping Hals Cough Drops in me like it was candy so I wouldn't cough while on the air. They asked if I could stay after and film a special guest speaker they where interviewing for a different taped show. I had no problem with it. After "Ask the Pastor" I go the green room and drank a large glass of water and had a small coughing fit since I was suppressing it so much. I was trying to get my coughs out of my system before the next filming. I make my way back into the studio to help set up for the special. There was a group of people off to the side talking and they called me over. The producers introduced me to the guest speaker, we shook hands and we exchanged small talk. Then I went back over to my camera to get it ready for the special.
There was a new host and the guest speaker sat next to him both sitting comfortable chairs with a small table between them with glasses of water. The host started to do his opening monologue introducing his guest. "....my guest here today is going to tell us what it is like living in todays society with AIDS..." My brain froze! AIDS! I studied AIDS in school and I wasn't afraid of him and I knew I wasn't going to get AIDS by him being in the room. But I had a flashback. I am full of germs! I have a cold! I shook his hand! My sick germs are on him. I think I just killed him! and other thoughts like this pounded my head as filmed the interview. I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about HIM. Afterwards I approached him and told him I didn't know he had AIDS but that I was fighting a cold and I was concerned. He smiled and thanked me for telling him but he said he knew when he came in and seen me in the green room coughing and drinking water. He assured me that he currently has his AIDS under control not to worry. Not to worry is easier said then done I suppose.
I worked at WTLJ for a few months a couple days a week. The new semester was just beginning and I had class time during the production of "Ask the Pastor" and I couldn't film it anymore. I did a few more extra's during that last semester of my freshman year at GVSU when I could. After that year I moved down to Allegan, Michigan and it was too far for a drive to keep it up. I was so disappointed that I had to quit. I really enjoyed the people there and working behind the scenes.
Seeing the film crew working during the film The Chrysalis recalled all those wonderful memories of WTLJ. For a brief moment I could still see myself driving down the stations long dirt drive and parking in the back, walking into the station doors with the sound box to my left and station room to my right, hearing their voices, feeling the rubber grips on the camera to move it about and remembering some of shows and scenes that I helped out on. I look back on it with fond memories.
It was an Autumn day in 1995. I was in my first year of college at Grand Valley State University. The Renaissance Festival had finished up (September 18 blog: My Performance in the GVSU Renaissance Festival) and I was looking for something else to occupy my time, preferably a job. I would go to the counseling center and look at the job postings. Then one ad caught my eye. It was a volunteer position to be a cameraman for WTLJ which was right around the corner from the GVSU campus. That sounds interesting, I thought. True, it didn't pay anything but I was certainly curious. So I called on it and an interview was set up in a couple of days.
The interview wasn't much of an interview. It was more of "how to" as they told me I was going to film the live tv show "Ask the Pastor". I was in shock. Live? What if I mess up? I never did this type of thing before. I was a projectionist at my Catholic Church growing up but that wasn't nothing compare to this. My thoughts were in panic mode but I didn't let it show on the outside. I smiled and nodded and kept myself reserved.
"Ask the Pastor" was a live show set up kinda a like a game show. There was the host and there was a panel of 4 pastors from different churches in the west Michigan area. They had, which I would say, regulars and every now and there would be a different pastor that would show up. I remember Pastor Trimm. He was a large man with dark hair and fastly growing speckles of gray throughout his hair and beard. He was also loud, abrupt and animated with his actions when he answered questions and fun to watch. In almost every episode he would end up holding his Bible high up in the air shouting in a deep voice, "This is the truth; The whole truth; And nothing but the truth, And in God's Almighty name let us say Amen!" You couldn't help but say Amen after that even if I could only whisper it.
Live calls would come in from people in the area and every now and then a letter would be read by the host. The phone lines were constantly busy by people wanting to know more insight on God's word and how to interpret it. I never heard of the show previously. I never heard of the station before. I knew who God was but I was still at an infant stage with my Christianity. I am still working on my Christianity but I have come a long away. Anyway, the host would make sure the pastor's stayed on track and everyone had a chance to speak in a timely manner. Sometimes debates would break out between pastors on the interpretation of scripture and after a few moments the host would try to settle the manner and move on to the next caller.
The producer showed me how to use the huge cameras. She shows me how to pan left, pan right, zoom in and zoom out. She said that was all I needed to know and it was really quite simple. I was introduced to a late-middle aged lady who was the main camera operator and to another volunteer camera operator who was an elderly man. Then she handed me a headset (earphones with a microphone) to put on and went into another room so we can do a trial run before the show.
The camera's were huge. I had to step up on a circular platform that was connected to the camera. Huge handles stuck out from the side and the ends rotated to zoom in and zoom out. I tilted it up so it would be level to the panel where the pastors sit and remember feeling the heavy weight of the camera. If I let go the camera could slowly point downwards so I had to make sure I had a good grip on it. Even panning left and right you could still feel the weight of it. There was two viewing areas. One was what the camera was viewing and the other is what was being seen on TV. Looking at that one you can adjust the headspace and make sure they are centered correctly if need be. Over my ear piece a sound broke the silence, "Okay Jill. Can you hear me?" I replied yes back into the microphone attachment, "I want you to focus on the sign "Ask the Pastor" and zoom in closely and slowly on the P." I would start to zoom in and direction would be given if I was going to fast or if I was going to slow. After a few attempts I figured out the speed and pressure of zooming. "Now I want you to zoom in to have just the sign showing then slowly pan down and zoom out to the panel of pastors." I did just that. All was going good.
The panel of pastors soon arrived and we were ready for the live show. A stampede of wilderbeasts were running around my stomach, I was so nervous. I had to be quiet as a mouse and listen to the prompts that they gave to me. When I seen a red light inside my camera I was told that my camera was on and I had to be careful about moving my camera then. She would have me focus on one pastor, switch to another camrea, then have me focus on another pastor and she would switch back to my camera. I realized that the producer was a chatter box when the show was going on, even making funny jokes every now and then. At times, we cameramen, looked at each other with huge smiles on our faces trying not to laugh or make any sounds. I really enjoyed working behind the scenes. When we were done with the show the producer would say through our headsets, "That's a rap!" and we would take off our headsets, place them neatly on top of the machines and shut them down. On a monitor off to the side we can see that a commercial was already started on the station. Overall, it really wasn't too difficult.
Soon they would have me come in and do specials and help film the Christmas "Thank You" commercials set to music. This one time I had a really bad cough due to a cold I had. I was dropping Hals Cough Drops in me like it was candy so I wouldn't cough while on the air. They asked if I could stay after and film a special guest speaker they where interviewing for a different taped show. I had no problem with it. After "Ask the Pastor" I go the green room and drank a large glass of water and had a small coughing fit since I was suppressing it so much. I was trying to get my coughs out of my system before the next filming. I make my way back into the studio to help set up for the special. There was a group of people off to the side talking and they called me over. The producers introduced me to the guest speaker, we shook hands and we exchanged small talk. Then I went back over to my camera to get it ready for the special.
There was a new host and the guest speaker sat next to him both sitting comfortable chairs with a small table between them with glasses of water. The host started to do his opening monologue introducing his guest. "....my guest here today is going to tell us what it is like living in todays society with AIDS..." My brain froze! AIDS! I studied AIDS in school and I wasn't afraid of him and I knew I wasn't going to get AIDS by him being in the room. But I had a flashback. I am full of germs! I have a cold! I shook his hand! My sick germs are on him. I think I just killed him! and other thoughts like this pounded my head as filmed the interview. I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about HIM. Afterwards I approached him and told him I didn't know he had AIDS but that I was fighting a cold and I was concerned. He smiled and thanked me for telling him but he said he knew when he came in and seen me in the green room coughing and drinking water. He assured me that he currently has his AIDS under control not to worry. Not to worry is easier said then done I suppose.
I worked at WTLJ for a few months a couple days a week. The new semester was just beginning and I had class time during the production of "Ask the Pastor" and I couldn't film it anymore. I did a few more extra's during that last semester of my freshman year at GVSU when I could. After that year I moved down to Allegan, Michigan and it was too far for a drive to keep it up. I was so disappointed that I had to quit. I really enjoyed the people there and working behind the scenes.
Seeing the film crew working during the film The Chrysalis recalled all those wonderful memories of WTLJ. For a brief moment I could still see myself driving down the stations long dirt drive and parking in the back, walking into the station doors with the sound box to my left and station room to my right, hearing their voices, feeling the rubber grips on the camera to move it about and remembering some of shows and scenes that I helped out on. I look back on it with fond memories.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Fudge, Fun and Nuptials
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| Our bikes up at Mackinac Island. |
It was several years since I had been to Mackinac Island. Motor cars are not allowed on the island that is just under 4 square miles and it gives the appeal of stepping back in time to an era of long ago. We decided to cross the Mackinac Bridge to take the ferry from St. Ignace in the UP over to the island. I never realized how big the bridge looked before. The closer we got the more my heart started
pounding and the harder it was to breathe. Soon were driving up the 5 mile long bridge. I couldn't move. I could barely talk. I sat there staring at the floor of the Bronco refusing to look out. In the meantime, Brian was jabbering away about the view and ships he sees off in the distance. It made me uneasy. I begged for him to stop talking. I needed absolute quiet. An odd vibration rumbled across the Bronco. I could tell we were on the grated part of the bridge near the middle, which is also the highest part. I took a long deep breath. I gripped the door handle very tightly. I was singing songs in my head trying hard not to think about being 199 feet above Lake Huron and Lake Michigan. Deep in the back parts of my brain the story of how a car was blown over the edge of the Mackinac Bridge and the person died played over and over. My mental singing couldn't keep the thought of that away. Brian was realizing that this wasn't just a small fear but more of a terror I have. A few times he would tease me telling me we were off the bridge only to open my eyes and look up and see a huge pillar passing by me. My heart beats faster and I pray hard for those miles to pass by quickly. Finally we reach the upper peninsula and I was able to breath again and my heart returned to its normal beat. I never had a fear come upon me like that before while crossing the bridge and I didn't like the feeling. I knew I would have to cross it again but I didn't want to think about that so soon.
We had a great time on the island. We biked around it stopping at various sights like The Grand Hotel, Arch Rock, battlefield sites from the war of 1812 and a tree from a scene from the movie Somewhere in Time startting Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymore. We sat upon some rocks on the southwest side of the island near the water's edge and enjoyed the Michigan landscape across the waters. Brian is fiddling around with my camera but I didn't think too much about it. He holds it up and says, "Hey Jill," I look at him, "Will you marry me?" click goes the sound of the camera.
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| My reaction the moment Brian asked me to be his wife. |
I was shocked. I was not expecting that very important, life changing question at all. We never even hinted around to it. We have only been dating probably 2 months at best. I wanted to say yes but I didn't want to seem too eager. I wanted to see how long he would go before he would beg for an answer. I looked at him, smiled, and replied, "I will have to think about it and get back to you with an answer."
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| This was taken after I told Brian I would think about his marriage proposal. |
He tried to persuade me to answer but I was firm in having him wait. Brian finally realized that he wasn't going to get an answer right away like he hoped and we changed subjects. Deep inside my heart was fluttering and I was screaming with delight, YES! YES! YES! but I was 18, an adult, and had to hold my composure. Then I began to plot on how long I would make him wait and in what special way would I let Brian know that my answer would be yes. There was some strange sinful pleasure in my knowledge of the answer to the marriage proposal and him not knowing yet. It was like I was in control and he was at my mercy.
It was getting late and we started to make our way towards home. We had to cross over the Mackinac Bridge again. I couldn't do it. My heart was leaping out of my chest. I kept telling myself that I had to cross it. I live in the lower peninsula and can't stay up there. I can do this. I can do this, I would tell myself over and over. We paid our toll and started making our way south over the bridge. I looked over at the suspension wires and I fell apart inside. Staring at the floor boards were not enough. I couldn't feel safe. If being blown over the bridge is there a safe spot to be in a vehicle? I wondered. I unbuckled and curled myself up in a little ball at the bottom of the Bronco. Brian kept trying to tell me what a beautiful view I was missing and to give it a chance. I started crying and begging for him to stop talking. I just wanted silence so I can concentrate on calming myself down.
I can feel the Bronco start to slow down. Why is he slowing down? Is there an accident? Are we about to go over the edge? Did part of the bridge collaspe? With my eyes still closed and me still curled up on the floor of the Bronco I heard Brian's voice, "Tell me you will marry me?"
"WHAT! GET ME OFF THIS BRIDGE NOW!" I pleaded!
"Nope. Not until you say that you will be my wife." He said calmly.
"I AM NOT GIVING YOU AN ANSWER! HURRY UP AND DRIVE FASTER!" I begged.
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| Between the two pillars of the Mackinaw Bridge Brian slowed down and demanded an answer to his marriage proposal. |
He slows his driving to a slow crawl and taunts me with being up near the top. "You can see everything from up here. Look, there is a freighter off in the distance. I am not going to move until you say yes." Brian says proudly knowing he has the best of me at this moment.
I knew I was defeated. With not being of sound mind I shouted, "YES! FINE! I WILL MARRY YOU! JUST GET ME OFF THIS BRIDGE NOW!!!!
"What was that you said? I want to make sure I heard you correctly." he teased back.
"YES! NOW GET ME OFF OF THE BRIDGE!" I hollared back from the floor of the Bronco.
I felt the Bronco speed up. My heart is thumping wildly but I couldn't tell if it was fear from the bridge or agreeing to the marriage proposal. Maybe it was a little of both. Looking back now it is still hard to tell which got my heart thumping more. I plugged my ears and kept my eyes tightly shut so I can fully concentrate on not being on the bridge. After a while I felt Brian pull the Bronco over to the side. He gently pats my back to tells me to step outside. I slowly slide my body up into my seat to see if we were off the bridge. We were. We were safely on the side of the highway on the lower peninsular side. Brian already rushed around to my side of the Bronco and already had the door open. I fall out like a wet noodle so exhausted from horror of crossing over the bridge. "Did you really mean it when you said yes?" Brian asked.
"Yes, I did. I will marry you." I replied back. It wasn't the way I imagined that I would say yes to his proposal but I was off the bridge.
Brian pulled me close to him and gave me a huge romantic kiss and a great big hug right on the side of the highway. Cars were zooming past watching us embrace but we didn't care. At that moment we made the decision to spend the rest of our lives together.
17 years has passed by and I don't regret the answer I had given in haste. We have gone across the bridge a few times since then and I try to open my eyes to take a look if even only for a second. One of my greatest fears (bridges) also gives me one of my greatest memories to cherish and that is to become a wife to the man I love.
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| Brian and I standing in front of the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island the day he proposed to me. |
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Amityville Slaughter House
I do not know why men think women are dainty creatures that needs protecting. Perhaps some women do faint at the sight of blood or scream at the sight of a snake crawling across the floor but not me. I was raised with the enjoyment of blood, guts, and gore. While some girls I knew found gratification of looking at clothes and jewerly, I was finding pleasure in horror movies and getting down and dirty. As a child my sister and I would watch the movie series Friday the 13th and our VCR had a slow motion button to it. There was a scene where a cop ran through the woods trying to chase Jason Voorheis. The cop came to a small run-down cabin. He is looking through some things when Jason comes up behind him and slams the hammer claw into the back of the cops head. My sister and I would click the slow motion button and watch how the cops eyes would look as if are popping out of his face once the hammer was entering the back of his head. Morbid, I know, but my sister and I were laughing too hard to care. My family is twisted.
I was only dating Brian a few weeks when he asked if I wanted to join him in the semi-truck to make a pick up in Chicago. It sounded exciting and it was. Sitting up high in the semi-truck you can see everything. You felt powerful and tall. In Chicago traffic you can look down into people's cars and see what they are doing or little children will look up and beg for the air horn to be blown. Sometimes Brian would blow it and the kids in the car would hoot with delight.
He was scheduled to pick up meat from a slaughterhouse in Chicago. It was called the Amityville Slaughter House and it lived up to its name. He told me to wait in the cab as he went inside to deal with the paperwork. I looked around through the cab's windows and there wasn't much to look at. Older looking cars were in the parking lot, weeds vined up the broken down fence that surrounded the building, and the building looked old. I even watched a pig being escorted in the air by a Bobcat 4-wheeler across the parking lot. Little did this pig know but its final ride would lead him become bacon and ham. Did my mouth just water, I thought.
After a while an uncomforting feeling came across me. I needed a bathroom. Oh how I envied men who can just stand hidden in a corner to use it or relieve themselves in a bottle or jug. God just did not make women that way. I looked at the mulitple doors to the building. I didn't know which door to go into. I looked around for another business, perhaps a gas station would be nearby. There was nothing but old, run-downed, two story homes. Please God, let Brian come out soon! I anguished. After what seemed like forever Brian came back to the truck to check on me. The shippers were still messing with the paperwork. I told him I needed to use the bathroom. He asked if I could hold it. I have him a look of urgency. He begged me to hold it because this wasn't a nice place to use the bathroom. "I don't care," I pleaded, "I am about to squat in front of this truck if I don't get to a bathroom now!"
He comes around the truck and opens the door for me. "I don't want you looking around. Keep your eyes on the floor. There is disgusting things in here." he says tenderly as we approach a set of doors.
Disgusting things? Did that ever get my curiousity going! We entered the first set of doors and a lady sat behind a window with papers shuffled across her desk. Brian asked where the bathroom was for me. The lady gave him instruction through the factory maze. We entered another set of doors. It was loud and smelled nasty. As we rounded a corner the floor turned red. It's wasn't paint either. But I was mindful and still kept my eyes on the ground, mostly because I didn't want to step on the chunks that was litered on the ground. We entered another area and he told me that when he says "GO!" we have to move quickly forward. I couldn't look down any longer. The urge to look up was too great. I told Brian I can handle this. I looked up and gasped out loud. Brian was so concerned and disappointed that the image I seen was terrifing to me. On the contrary that was a gasp of excitment.
This is a part of our food chain that most people don't get to see and here I was observing it. Up above were skinless headless pigs hanging on hooks through its feet cascading around on a system that looked like a cruel roller coaster ride. It went from an upper level and down across the room we were in and into a lower level room for more processing. As we passed through the room, we had to dodge between the hanging pig corpses. It was thrilling. A smile even emerged from my face which confused Brian.
We went down a flight of grated stairs. I placed my hands on the railing. It was sticky and gooie feeling. I knew it was because of pig blood. I quickly let go of the railing. Just because I found this experience interesting I didn't want to feel it. We finally found the bathroom. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. It looked as bad as it did the slaughter house. I didn't care. I had to use it. A toilet was a toilet and I was thankful.
We made our way back up the sticky stairs, dodged the hanging carcas of pork, and back around to the lady at the window. Brian walked me back to the truck apologizing for the sights that I seen and that a lady shouldn't of seen something to that degree. I told him I found it rather interested and I liked it but he didn't understand how someone could like something so grusome. I climbed back into the truck and Brian went back inside to finish up on the paperwork. I sat there wishing how I could see the rest of the factory and how a pig goes from being carried on bobcat to becoming bacon on our breakfast plates.
After some time Brian comes running to the truck. "We have to go now!" he says urgently, "The inspectors are closing the factory down! They just finished loading our truck and we have to leave before they lock up the gates." He gets the truck moving fast and starts shifting gears. A few other trucks were in line of leaving the premises quickly.
We get back on the road and Brian says, "I bet after that you won't want to eat meat anymore."
I looked at him, smiled, and replied, "Actually a grilled ham and cheese sandwich does sound good." Then we rode off on the highway. I think Brian then realized that I was different than the other girls he knew.
I was only dating Brian a few weeks when he asked if I wanted to join him in the semi-truck to make a pick up in Chicago. It sounded exciting and it was. Sitting up high in the semi-truck you can see everything. You felt powerful and tall. In Chicago traffic you can look down into people's cars and see what they are doing or little children will look up and beg for the air horn to be blown. Sometimes Brian would blow it and the kids in the car would hoot with delight.
He was scheduled to pick up meat from a slaughterhouse in Chicago. It was called the Amityville Slaughter House and it lived up to its name. He told me to wait in the cab as he went inside to deal with the paperwork. I looked around through the cab's windows and there wasn't much to look at. Older looking cars were in the parking lot, weeds vined up the broken down fence that surrounded the building, and the building looked old. I even watched a pig being escorted in the air by a Bobcat 4-wheeler across the parking lot. Little did this pig know but its final ride would lead him become bacon and ham. Did my mouth just water, I thought.
After a while an uncomforting feeling came across me. I needed a bathroom. Oh how I envied men who can just stand hidden in a corner to use it or relieve themselves in a bottle or jug. God just did not make women that way. I looked at the mulitple doors to the building. I didn't know which door to go into. I looked around for another business, perhaps a gas station would be nearby. There was nothing but old, run-downed, two story homes. Please God, let Brian come out soon! I anguished. After what seemed like forever Brian came back to the truck to check on me. The shippers were still messing with the paperwork. I told him I needed to use the bathroom. He asked if I could hold it. I have him a look of urgency. He begged me to hold it because this wasn't a nice place to use the bathroom. "I don't care," I pleaded, "I am about to squat in front of this truck if I don't get to a bathroom now!"
He comes around the truck and opens the door for me. "I don't want you looking around. Keep your eyes on the floor. There is disgusting things in here." he says tenderly as we approach a set of doors.
Disgusting things? Did that ever get my curiousity going! We entered the first set of doors and a lady sat behind a window with papers shuffled across her desk. Brian asked where the bathroom was for me. The lady gave him instruction through the factory maze. We entered another set of doors. It was loud and smelled nasty. As we rounded a corner the floor turned red. It's wasn't paint either. But I was mindful and still kept my eyes on the ground, mostly because I didn't want to step on the chunks that was litered on the ground. We entered another area and he told me that when he says "GO!" we have to move quickly forward. I couldn't look down any longer. The urge to look up was too great. I told Brian I can handle this. I looked up and gasped out loud. Brian was so concerned and disappointed that the image I seen was terrifing to me. On the contrary that was a gasp of excitment.
This is a part of our food chain that most people don't get to see and here I was observing it. Up above were skinless headless pigs hanging on hooks through its feet cascading around on a system that looked like a cruel roller coaster ride. It went from an upper level and down across the room we were in and into a lower level room for more processing. As we passed through the room, we had to dodge between the hanging pig corpses. It was thrilling. A smile even emerged from my face which confused Brian.
We went down a flight of grated stairs. I placed my hands on the railing. It was sticky and gooie feeling. I knew it was because of pig blood. I quickly let go of the railing. Just because I found this experience interesting I didn't want to feel it. We finally found the bathroom. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. It looked as bad as it did the slaughter house. I didn't care. I had to use it. A toilet was a toilet and I was thankful.
We made our way back up the sticky stairs, dodged the hanging carcas of pork, and back around to the lady at the window. Brian walked me back to the truck apologizing for the sights that I seen and that a lady shouldn't of seen something to that degree. I told him I found it rather interested and I liked it but he didn't understand how someone could like something so grusome. I climbed back into the truck and Brian went back inside to finish up on the paperwork. I sat there wishing how I could see the rest of the factory and how a pig goes from being carried on bobcat to becoming bacon on our breakfast plates.
After some time Brian comes running to the truck. "We have to go now!" he says urgently, "The inspectors are closing the factory down! They just finished loading our truck and we have to leave before they lock up the gates." He gets the truck moving fast and starts shifting gears. A few other trucks were in line of leaving the premises quickly.
We get back on the road and Brian says, "I bet after that you won't want to eat meat anymore."
I looked at him, smiled, and replied, "Actually a grilled ham and cheese sandwich does sound good." Then we rode off on the highway. I think Brian then realized that I was different than the other girls he knew.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
When Thoughts of Being Murdered Turns Into Being Married.
It was May 28, 1995. I was just a few days shy of graduating from Grandville High School. I was already done with classes but I still had the ceremony to go through. A relationship of two years ended a month prior and I was about to begin a whole new chapter in my life of adulthood.
My dear friend Cyndi was trying to set me up with an old classmate of hers. Cyndi and I were waitressed together at Apple Blossom Restaurant. She quit just a few weeks before. I was a little nervous but okay with it. She called and said after talking with him that he wasn't interested because of our age difference. He was 23 and I was 18. Okay, I thought, I can understand that. I haven't met him and I wasn't going to get upset about it.
A few days later she comes running through the doors at Apple Blossom and pulls me aside. "He changed his mind! He is over at my house right now. Can you come over after work?" she says excitedly.
"Yea, sure." I reply back, "I have to close up so I won't be out of here until 9:30 pm if that still works?"
It worked. I called my mom to let her know that Cyndi was setting me up on a blind date and I will be home to change and head off to her place. The rest of the evening I was thinking about the meet-up. I decided not to try to make a big deal and just be who I am. Plain and regular. I am who I am and if likes me then yea and if not no big deal.
Murphy's law played right into my hands. For the most part at work the last half hour no one usually came in. That night about ten to nine at night two couples come in for coffee and dessert. We were so ready to lock up at 9pm. The back kitchen was cleaned up, the floors were vacuumed and food was prepped for the morning shift. This didn't seem fair. I still had to be polite and serve them. At 9 O'clock I went and locked up the doors and turned off the outdoor sign. The couples didn't want to leave. I know they were enjoying each others company but I had plans. I think Joe, the cook, thought it was funny as I was pacing back and forth in the waitress area in hopes of these people to leave. Finally, about 10pm they decide to call it a night and left. I felt defeated. I didn't have time to run home and change. I called my mom back up and let her know I was getting out of work late and I was going straight to Cyndi's. Here I was about to meet a potential suitor smelling of grease, wearing a dark green waitressing uniform and these ugly brown, thick soled waitressing shoes. As far as first impressions go this wasn't going to be a great one.
As soon as I get there Cyndi rushes out the door and says we have to go get the pizza. He was there and hands me over some money. On the way to get the pizza Cyndi was asking me my thoughts on him. I told her I only glanced at him for a few seconds in the dark. I can't give a good answer yet of what I thought of him.
We get back to her place and as the door opened he was sitting there with a smile on his face. He had beautiful blue eyes. He seemed a bit on the thin side but when he stood up he was certainly tall. It was a nice evening with small chit chat. I found out he was a country boy while I was a city girl. He grew up on farms and horses and I grew up on city sidewalks and shopping malls. We did bicker some on the stereotypes of gender and we each are defending our own sex. "Girls are only after what is in men's jeans" he would say. I responded, "Men just want a quick night of fun and dash out the door." He was defending all of the men in the world and I was defending all the women.
On the way down we talked about our future. He said he wanted six children and I wanted six children. I remember thinking to myself, This is the man I am going to marry!
We get back to the car and head back to Cyndi's place. They were calling it a night and going off to bed. Brian asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat. It was close to 4 in the morning. My mom is going to kill me! At least if she is going to kill me I won't have an empty stomach. "Sure" I say and we head off to Casey's Restaurant for a bite to eat. Afterwards we stroll through the parking lot. "Stay and watch the sunrise with me." he pleads.
"I can't. I have to be getting back home." I said. I really wanted to stay but I had to work that morning at 7am and I needed to refresh myself. I also had to go home because I knew my mom was beyond livid that I was gone all night. Brian pulls me up close and gives me a kiss. YES!
I quietly open the door and my mother storms around the corner flying towards me angry as can be. She did have full right to be upset. I didn't want to add fuel to her fire by telling her we were crusing around Michigan so explained that we watched a movie and fell asleep. Cydni didn't have a phone at her place and I couldn't call. She was still upset but understood. I know I lied but I was okay and why fret over the past that can't be changed anyway. I was grounded.
I headed to work with no sleep. I was still floating on cloud 9 so lack of sleep wasn't bothering me. Early that afternoon Brian comes into the restaurant. He wanted to see me again after work. I told him I wasn't too sure about it. I felt silly telling a 23 adult male that I was grounded. I let him know to call me around 3ish when I was home. He finished his meal, left me a $2 tip and went on his way. TWO DOLLARS! I was expecting a bit more as a way of being extra nice to me. Talking to him later on in our relationship about it he said he knew I had to claim my tips on my taxes and he didn't want me to pay too much for it. Logical but not romantic.
I get home and realize no one was there. A note was left saying they went to Holland to visit family. A smile crosses my face. I know I was grounded but in haste and early morning hours I was hoping they forgot about it. Brian calls and wants to take me for a drive. I told him sure and gave him directions. I left a note back to my mom telling her of my plans.
He picked me up in his pick-up and we drove off. Lack of sleep was getting the better of me. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I placed my head in Brian's lap and fell asleep. Nudge. Nudge. Nudge. I felt Brian's hands on my sholders trying to wake me up. I sit up and look around. We were in a partially wooded area on a dirt road. I have never been on a dirt road before. To me dirt roads was where murder's happen. I didn't know where I was at or even how to begin to get home. "Come look at this huge tree trunk with me." Brian says.
I looked at him puzzled. A tree trunk? Who looks at tree trunks?! I have seen enough horror shows in my lifetime to know this would not be a good turn out. In horror movies there is usually a wooded scene where the killer goes after its victim. The victim falls, screaming out in terror but there is no one around to hear then SLASH! The victim becomes worm meal. I deserve this. I was stupid enough to go off with someone who I don't even know their last name. I have lived a good life. I thought as I was getting ready to make peace with my maker. At least it is a beautiful day to die. I looked around at the trees overhead. I took some deep breaths inhaling what would be my last taste of the air.
"Here it is." Brian beams. "Look how big around this trunk is!"
I look over at him. He is gauking at the size of this trunk. I walk over to him. He takes my hand. This is it. Here comes the kiss of death! He walks me around the tree to see if we both can place our arms around the tree trunk. We couldn't. I must say the tree was impressive. It is not something you would expect from someone on a date. The thought process of my brain must of stopped from total fear exhaustion. I don't remember where we went next or how I got home or if my mom was there before I was.
Sometime later I realize we were only a mile from where he grew up in Martin. At that time I had no idea Martin let alone Allegan County even existed. Seventeen years and six children later, we are still going strong and I now prefer dirt roads to drive on. The tree is still standing.
My dear friend Cyndi was trying to set me up with an old classmate of hers. Cyndi and I were waitressed together at Apple Blossom Restaurant. She quit just a few weeks before. I was a little nervous but okay with it. She called and said after talking with him that he wasn't interested because of our age difference. He was 23 and I was 18. Okay, I thought, I can understand that. I haven't met him and I wasn't going to get upset about it.
A few days later she comes running through the doors at Apple Blossom and pulls me aside. "He changed his mind! He is over at my house right now. Can you come over after work?" she says excitedly.
"Yea, sure." I reply back, "I have to close up so I won't be out of here until 9:30 pm if that still works?"
It worked. I called my mom to let her know that Cyndi was setting me up on a blind date and I will be home to change and head off to her place. The rest of the evening I was thinking about the meet-up. I decided not to try to make a big deal and just be who I am. Plain and regular. I am who I am and if likes me then yea and if not no big deal.
Murphy's law played right into my hands. For the most part at work the last half hour no one usually came in. That night about ten to nine at night two couples come in for coffee and dessert. We were so ready to lock up at 9pm. The back kitchen was cleaned up, the floors were vacuumed and food was prepped for the morning shift. This didn't seem fair. I still had to be polite and serve them. At 9 O'clock I went and locked up the doors and turned off the outdoor sign. The couples didn't want to leave. I know they were enjoying each others company but I had plans. I think Joe, the cook, thought it was funny as I was pacing back and forth in the waitress area in hopes of these people to leave. Finally, about 10pm they decide to call it a night and left. I felt defeated. I didn't have time to run home and change. I called my mom back up and let her know I was getting out of work late and I was going straight to Cyndi's. Here I was about to meet a potential suitor smelling of grease, wearing a dark green waitressing uniform and these ugly brown, thick soled waitressing shoes. As far as first impressions go this wasn't going to be a great one.
As soon as I get there Cyndi rushes out the door and says we have to go get the pizza. He was there and hands me over some money. On the way to get the pizza Cyndi was asking me my thoughts on him. I told her I only glanced at him for a few seconds in the dark. I can't give a good answer yet of what I thought of him.
We get back to her place and as the door opened he was sitting there with a smile on his face. He had beautiful blue eyes. He seemed a bit on the thin side but when he stood up he was certainly tall. It was a nice evening with small chit chat. I found out he was a country boy while I was a city girl. He grew up on farms and horses and I grew up on city sidewalks and shopping malls. We did bicker some on the stereotypes of gender and we each are defending our own sex. "Girls are only after what is in men's jeans" he would say. I responded, "Men just want a quick night of fun and dash out the door." He was defending all of the men in the world and I was defending all the women.
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| 282 steps at Mt. Baldhead, Saugatuck, Mi. |
It started getting late. Brian suggested we all take a drive to Saugatuck and climb Mt. Baldhead. I remember long ago going there with my mom and her boyfriend and I loved it. I couldn't resist. Around midnight Cyndi, her fiance Michael, Brian and I made our way out to hike up Mt. Baldhead. Mt. Baldhead has 282 steps built on a sand dune. From the top you can see the town of Saugatuck and on the other side is Lake Michigan. It was a perfect warm night. Half way up we decided 4 smokers making this climb wasn't the best thing to accomplish. Michael went back to the car. Cyndi, Brian and I continued our trek up the dune.
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| view from the top of Mt. Baldhead overlooking Saugatuck |
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| view looking down to Lake Michigan. |
On the way down we talked about our future. He said he wanted six children and I wanted six children. I remember thinking to myself, This is the man I am going to marry!
We get back to the car and head back to Cyndi's place. They were calling it a night and going off to bed. Brian asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat. It was close to 4 in the morning. My mom is going to kill me! At least if she is going to kill me I won't have an empty stomach. "Sure" I say and we head off to Casey's Restaurant for a bite to eat. Afterwards we stroll through the parking lot. "Stay and watch the sunrise with me." he pleads.
"I can't. I have to be getting back home." I said. I really wanted to stay but I had to work that morning at 7am and I needed to refresh myself. I also had to go home because I knew my mom was beyond livid that I was gone all night. Brian pulls me up close and gives me a kiss. YES!
I quietly open the door and my mother storms around the corner flying towards me angry as can be. She did have full right to be upset. I didn't want to add fuel to her fire by telling her we were crusing around Michigan so explained that we watched a movie and fell asleep. Cydni didn't have a phone at her place and I couldn't call. She was still upset but understood. I know I lied but I was okay and why fret over the past that can't be changed anyway. I was grounded.
I headed to work with no sleep. I was still floating on cloud 9 so lack of sleep wasn't bothering me. Early that afternoon Brian comes into the restaurant. He wanted to see me again after work. I told him I wasn't too sure about it. I felt silly telling a 23 adult male that I was grounded. I let him know to call me around 3ish when I was home. He finished his meal, left me a $2 tip and went on his way. TWO DOLLARS! I was expecting a bit more as a way of being extra nice to me. Talking to him later on in our relationship about it he said he knew I had to claim my tips on my taxes and he didn't want me to pay too much for it. Logical but not romantic.
I get home and realize no one was there. A note was left saying they went to Holland to visit family. A smile crosses my face. I know I was grounded but in haste and early morning hours I was hoping they forgot about it. Brian calls and wants to take me for a drive. I told him sure and gave him directions. I left a note back to my mom telling her of my plans.
He picked me up in his pick-up and we drove off. Lack of sleep was getting the better of me. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I placed my head in Brian's lap and fell asleep. Nudge. Nudge. Nudge. I felt Brian's hands on my sholders trying to wake me up. I sit up and look around. We were in a partially wooded area on a dirt road. I have never been on a dirt road before. To me dirt roads was where murder's happen. I didn't know where I was at or even how to begin to get home. "Come look at this huge tree trunk with me." Brian says.
I looked at him puzzled. A tree trunk? Who looks at tree trunks?! I have seen enough horror shows in my lifetime to know this would not be a good turn out. In horror movies there is usually a wooded scene where the killer goes after its victim. The victim falls, screaming out in terror but there is no one around to hear then SLASH! The victim becomes worm meal. I deserve this. I was stupid enough to go off with someone who I don't even know their last name. I have lived a good life. I thought as I was getting ready to make peace with my maker. At least it is a beautiful day to die. I looked around at the trees overhead. I took some deep breaths inhaling what would be my last taste of the air.
"Here it is." Brian beams. "Look how big around this trunk is!"
I look over at him. He is gauking at the size of this trunk. I walk over to him. He takes my hand. This is it. Here comes the kiss of death! He walks me around the tree to see if we both can place our arms around the tree trunk. We couldn't. I must say the tree was impressive. It is not something you would expect from someone on a date. The thought process of my brain must of stopped from total fear exhaustion. I don't remember where we went next or how I got home or if my mom was there before I was.
Sometime later I realize we were only a mile from where he grew up in Martin. At that time I had no idea Martin let alone Allegan County even existed. Seventeen years and six children later, we are still going strong and I now prefer dirt roads to drive on. The tree is still standing.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Oh My Goodness!!! I Said What To Whom???
With Super Tuesday Primary Elections going on today I couldn't help but reminisce about my first political interaction. No, it isn't a proud moment in my past but rather of some embarrassment as I look back on the moment. Only certain things happening in the world caught my attention: Berlin Wall coming down, perhaps some natural disasters of earthquakes or tornado's but never politics. When I was a child I remember Oliver North being on every channel during the summer talking about selling something to the Contra's over some hostages. All I knew was that he was interrupting my summertime cartoons. This was the down side of not having cable.
Zoom ahead to the year 1995. I was 18 and a senior in high school. We just moved across state from Saginaw to Grandville. At school I was in a program called "Close-Up" which centered around seeing how the government worked and we got to go to Washington D.C. For me it was a trip to D.C. - a town rich full of history and I wasn't a bit interested in the politics of it. I was barely pulling a C- in Government class as it was and I had to pass that to get my high school degree.
Before I continue with the dialog I want to flash back a few weeks prior. In Government class we had a test over who was who in our government. Who was our Governor, Lt. Governor, Sec. of State, our district senator and representative and all the way down to other local Grandville officials. Since I was new to Grandville and at the time I really didn't care at all for politics so to put it bluntly I failed that test. Back to the conversation...
I straightened myself up in the chair and my face just beamed with excitment. Before I could think and with my finger pointing right at him I opened my big mouth and proudly stated, "I JUST FLUNKED YOUR NAME ON MY GOVERNMENT TEST!!!"
After I said that I realized that wasn't the best way to make a first impression. He laughed, shook my hand and said he hoped that after this meeting I will pass his name next time. I soon realized what a scene that must of been with Mr. Sikkema talking with my mom and here I was snoozing away across the office chair behind her. It has been 17 years and I still haven't forgot who he was.
Zoom ahead to the year 1995. I was 18 and a senior in high school. We just moved across state from Saginaw to Grandville. At school I was in a program called "Close-Up" which centered around seeing how the government worked and we got to go to Washington D.C. For me it was a trip to D.C. - a town rich full of history and I wasn't a bit interested in the politics of it. I was barely pulling a C- in Government class as it was and I had to pass that to get my high school degree.
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| I was the 3rd one from the left. |
We were on our way back from a week in Washington D.C. when our plane encountered some bad weather. It was delayed for several hours. We were supposed to return around 9pm but we actually didn't arrive at the high school until 2am. The teachers made it clear that since they had to be in the classroom in a few hours that they expected all of us to be in the classrooms as well. I did what any entitled high schooler would do. I begged my mom to call in for me so I could sleep in. She said I was 18 and I could call in for myself and that she wasn't going to. I didn't call in nor did my mom so the school considered that I skipped. For my punishment I got one hour of out of school suspension (OSS) for each hour I skipped. Basically the school rewarded me with an extra day off. Cool. I could use an extra day off. No problem!
My mom didn't see the humor in it. She dragged me to her office in the state building the next morning to help out with case files and other office work. This was torture. Put me back in school! Wasn't there child labor laws to protect me from this torment?! The day was long and boring. I was dozing off fast.
I had myself drapped across the office chair, head tilted back and possible drool dripping off my cheek. I heard my mother talking and laughing with someone. Then I heard these words, "You better be nice to me because you are coming up for re-election."
I sat up and looked over at him rudely interrupting, "WHO ARE YOU?"
The mystery man responded proudly, "I am Ken Sikkema, Michigan State House of Representatives for the Grandville 74 District."
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| Ken Sikkema Majority Floor Leader, Michigan State House of Representatives 1995-1996 Representative, Michigan State House of Representatives, District 74, 1986-1998 |
I straightened myself up in the chair and my face just beamed with excitment. Before I could think and with my finger pointing right at him I opened my big mouth and proudly stated, "I JUST FLUNKED YOUR NAME ON MY GOVERNMENT TEST!!!"
After I said that I realized that wasn't the best way to make a first impression. He laughed, shook my hand and said he hoped that after this meeting I will pass his name next time. I soon realized what a scene that must of been with Mr. Sikkema talking with my mom and here I was snoozing away across the office chair behind her. It has been 17 years and I still haven't forgot who he was.
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