15 Year Anniversary of the Grand Rapids Mega Storm

     It was around 3am on a Sunday morning when our alarm went off signaling for my husband to get ready for work.  He was a company driver working for B&B Trucking based out of Kalamazoo.  The semi he was using was parked near the Grand Rapids Airport.  The company was contracted to haul the mail from one bulk mailing center to another one.  I had preplanned on visiting with my mother that day.  I told her I would be there very early and I would try to be quiet as I entered her home.  Slowly we drug ourselves out of bed.  I woke up our 3 week old daughter, Elizabeth, and sleepily I fed her before we left for the hour drive from Gobles to Grand Rapids.  Before we left Brian picked up our one year old son, Christian, and carried his sleeping body to his car seat in the Chevy Astro van.  Brian slipped behind the driver's seat and I slid into the passenger seat feeling like a walking zombie.  Early mornings were not my speciality. 

     On the way up Brian nudged me awake, "Look at that!"  he said pointing to the northwest.

     I strained to open my eyes.  They just didn't want to open.  Somehow my eyelids pryed itself open and before my eyes was a series of lightning strikes.  From the glow of the lightning you can see the massive cloud.  That caught my attention and woke me up.  I love thunderstorms and this one seemed like it was raining lightning. 

     "We better hurry so we can meet up with my truck and I can do my pretrip before that storm hits."  he drives a little faster going north on 131. 

     At that time in the morning on May 31, 1998 it seemed as if no one was around.  The streets were eerie silent.  We would get into a few batches of rain and then it would stop.  We could hear the rolling sounds of thunder angerily snapping at our heals.  We made it to the 44th street exit and it was a straight shot to the airport.  Most of the lights were still blinking yellow.  Some we did get stopped at by a red light only to see the storm heading for us in the rearview mirrors like it was angry at us for trying to outrun it. 

     At last we make it to the parking lot next to the airport terminal.  The cloud let out its rain like a bucket was dumping over the edge of it.  Instead of getting out of the car to run around to the driver's seat I just slid myself across looking at the heavy rainfall through the windshield.  Poor Brian was out in the rain looking over his truck to make sure everything was good to go for his daily trip.  Then I started to hear a thunk, thunk, thunking noise on the roof of the van.  I looked around to see what it was.  It was raining so hard I couldn't see out the windshield.  Brian quickly hops in the van dripping wet.  "It's hailing!  I am going to wait in here until it lets up a bit" 

     We sat in the van for a moment listening to the tinking sounds on our van.  I looked behind to check on our children.  They were both fast asleep unaware of what was going on in the world around them.  After a few moments the hail slowly started to let up.  Brian kissed me goodby and told me to be very careful as I drove to my mom's house.  I insured him I would.  He got out of the van and made a dash for his truck.  His headlights flashed on and off at me.  That was his way of saying he was good to go and I could leave.  I turned the van around and headed towards 28th street.

     I could feel the wind pushing against the van like it was trying to stop me.  I was determinded enough to continue.  I was amazed at all the lightning that lit up the pre-morning sky.  I was so engrossed with the lightning that I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me.  I suddenly realized that I haven't seen any street lights.  As I was crossing over Breton I looked up and in the flash of the lightning I seen the yellow light signal swinging madly over me.  I looked back in my side rearview mirrors.  No lights! I thought to myself.  Power must be out.  I need to slow down, pay attention and stop at the intersections.  Having worked as a waitress on 28th street on that side of town 4 years prior helped me navigate my way west on 28th street.  I remembered where the major interestions were and knew when to stop.  I was thankful that traffic was sparce that morning and no one came from the other side streets and ran through like I did and hit me.  I couldn't get over at how hard the wind was blowing.  The trees I could make out wanted to topple over in the wind.  Light poles in parking lots swayed violently.  To me, this was exciting. 

     I finally made it to my mom's driveway.  The rain had let up a bit but it was still raining.  I turned around in my seat to cover Elizabeth's car seat with a blanket to protect her from the weather.  I looked over at Christian.  He was still sleeping.  I got out of the car and popped Elizabeth's car seat out from its base just enough so I can grab it with one hand.  I lifted Christian out of his carseat and put him over my sholder.  The rain on his face woke him up a little bit.  I grabed Elizabeth's car seat with my other arm and dashed quickly to my mom's garage.  I set Elizabeth's car seat down so I can work the door to enter my mom's house.  As soon as I did that the door started to open.  My mom was on the other side relieved that I made it there okay.  We all enter and made our way to a screened in porch.  There, looking at me from the other side of the glass, was my older sister with her daughter. 

     "What are you doing here?"  I inquired with a smile.  She lived about a mile from our mom's house.

     "It felt like our apartment was about to fall over.  I wasn't sure if there was going to be a tornado"  she said.  She doesn't like storms a whole lot. 

     My mom's power was out also.  I told them that most of 28th street is without power.  We sat and rocked the children watching the storm work its way to the east.  The sun was trying to work its way through the clouds to bring on the day and to illuminate the destruction that was left behind.  In my mom's yard a few small trees fell over and Brian came a few days later and helped remove them. 

     Several hours later we were all starting to get hungry.  We couldn't cook anything because the power was still out in our location.  We decided to drive around and see what was opened.  Denny's over by 131 and 44th street was open.  The parking lot was packed.  Chris, my mom's husband, went in and set our reservation.  It was over an hour wait.  We sat in the car and waiting for a while before we made our move inside.  Elizabeth woke up and wanted to be nursed.  I looked around at the busy resturant.  Being a private person that I am I just couldn't nurse at that moment.  I did, however, carry around the premade 2 ounce bottles of formula that the hospitals give out after you have a baby.  I opened up the bottle and that was her first time taking a bottle.  She was done nursing after that day.

Area affected by the May 30-31, 1998 derecho event (outlined in blue). Curved purple lines represent the approximate locations of the "gust front" at three hourly intervals. "+" symbols indicate the locations of wind damage or wind gusts above severe limits (measured or estimated at 58 mph or greater). Red dots and paths indicate tornado events.  http://www.spc.noaa.gov/misc/AbtDerechos/casepages/may30-311998page.htm

     Looking back and gathering information about this storm Wikipedia says, "860,000 people lost power in Michigan. This derecho (wide spread windstorm associated with severe thunderstorms) would go on to break the record for biggest power outage ever in the state of Michigan (but later surpassed by the 2003 North America blackout)."   This storm spread from Montana to the Atlantic Ocean.  It went through Michigan in 2 hours.  Wiki also said that Grandville had extensive damage which led to the city being closed off and no one could leave.  I didn't find that to be entirely true since we were able to head out to Denny's and I was able to pick my husband up later on that evening with no problems.  But there was damage all over Michigan and smaller tornado's did pop up sporadically.  Trees did topple over and roofs were blown off of homes and buildings.  In fact, over 12,000 homes were damaged and 34 homes were completely destroyed.  Over 800 businesses were damaged and 34 businesses were destroyed.  This storm was so bad that 5 of Consumer's Energy 345 kilovolt transmission towers were blown down between Ludington and Grand Rapids.  They were designed to stand up to gusts of 110 miles per hour.  "Overall, the derecho traveled 975 miles from southern Minnesota to New York in 15 hours at an average speed of 65 mph. It became one of the most damaging derecho events in North America's history, causing $300 million in damage."http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Late-May_1998_tornado_outbreak_and_derecho) 

Red numbers are maximum measured wind gusts in mph. Orange numbers are estimated maximum gusts in mph, based on a damage survey by Grand Rapids NWS Forecast Office meteorologists. Thirteen Michigan counties (noted in black lettering and within light blue border) together were declared a Federal Disaster Area by the Federal Emergency Managers Association. The purple "S" represents where a "seiche" took place on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan.
http://www.spc.noaa.gov/misc/AbtDerechos/casepages/may30-311998page.htm



And there I was driving straight into the monstrous storm totally unaware of its magnitude. 

Remembering The Pussy Willows

    



     One of the early signs of spring that I enjoyed watching come into bloom is the pussy willows.  As a young child I remember a huge pussy willow bush on the left side of the enterance of my grandparent's (that would be my mother's parents) apartment.  I would get excited walking up the long sidewalk to the main door and looking over and seeing the pussy willows start to bud.  Soon, I knew the fuzzy plant would emerge out into the sun.  On another visit I would run over and take a look and see the blooming buds showing off their fuzziness.  When we were done visiting it seemed to take forever for my mother and Nonnie (that is what we called our grandmother) to say goodbye.  I would stand there outside picking off the buds just to feel the soft velvety texture between my fingers.  Sometimes I would take my fingernail and pry apart the bud to see what was inside of it.  We never had a plant like that anywhere around our home and it was so unique.  At times Nonnie would see me pulling off the pussy willow's soft bulb ends and quickly tell me to quit it.  She didn't want me pulling off all the ends.  The bush was huge and I couldn't possibly see how I could pull them all off but I tried to obey her.  But it was hard to resist. 

     My grandparents died in the late 1980's.  We didn't have a reason to come to the apartment complex anymore and we stopped seeing the pussy willows.  I didn't think much about it at the time.  I was growing up and getting older.  New things preoccupied my thoughts and time.  It wasn't until a few years ago that at a local store they were selling clippings of pussy willow's.  I had to have them.  Cheerful memories flooded back into my mind as I held this twigs showing the pussy willow parts.  I slowly twisted one of the fuzzy bulbs off with with fingers and rolled it back and forth reliving a part of my childhood in my thoughts.  Unfortunally, God did not grace me with a green thumb and the plants died. 

     In a way I am glad they didn't survive.  I don't want to get used to them around the house where I don't think much of them.  Now when I do see them it is so rare that I have to stop and look at it.  I don't pass by it like how we pass by McDonald's because we see it everywhere.  I am able to take a moment and thank God for the wonderful creations He has given to us to enjoy the different seasons He created for us. 

Michigan's Part In The Capture Of The Confederate President

     The year was 1865.  General Lee surrendered to General Grant on April 9 at the Appomattox Court House in Virginia.  President Abraham Lincoln died from a gunshot wound to the head on April 15 in Washington D.C..  America, as a whole, was trying to lick her wounds from one of the most deadliest battles we ever fought, The American Civil War. 

     Those who played important roles in the southern government had to answer to the federal government for treason.  Some successfully escaped to other countries to avoid jail and hardships.  One very important person tried to make it to Florida to escape on ship to another country.  That man was the confederate's only president, Jefferson Davis. 

Jefferson Davis
President of the
Confederate States of America.

Jefferson Davis was elected as the Confederate States of America's president in 1861.  On May 5, 1865, the southern government officially dissolved after a cabinet meeting in Georgia.  There was talk about regrouping another army and to retake the south again in the near future.  He had to go into hiding first and make his way further south knowing that the Union army was in search of him.  May 7th he reunited with his second and much younger wife, Varina accompanied with their 4 children:  Margaret (approx. 10), Jefferson jr. (approx. 8), William (approx. 4), and Varina Anne (approx. 1).  Sadly they had 2 children that died.  A son died before the war between the states started and another son died a year before the war ended.  They fled to the back roads trying to dodge the Union Army.  There was a reward for $100,000 for the capture of Jefferson Davis.  It was assumed, at the time,  that he also played a part in the death of Lincoln as well.  Near a creek in Irwin County, on the eve of May 9th, the Davis family decided to set up camp for the night.  

     Around 3:30am on May 10th there was a commotion outside the tents along with a few gun shots.  Jefferson thought it was the confederate people trying to rob them of some of their possessions they had with them.  Jefferson opened the tent flaps and seen Union blue coats walking about.  He knew he had to try to make a break for it.  His wife, Varnia, had him put on her waterproof raincoat to help protect him from the cold as he tried to escape.  She also tosses her shaw over his head as well to keep him warm.  Corp. George Munger, a soldier from the Michigan's 4th Calvary, seen 2 people in the dark making their way from the camp.  He rode over to them.  He noticed the women's attire but one of them wearing men's boots.  He asked them to remove their shaws so the soldier can see their faces.  There standing before the soldier was none other than Jefferson Davis and his wife.  Jefferson Davis was promptly arrested and spent 2 years in Federal Prison.  He wasn't tried for treason but was released on $100,000 bond that was paid for by southern supports.  

     Jokes went around about finding "Davis in drag."  Newspapers poked fun about how Jefferson Davis was found by putting up cartoons of Davis in a hoop skirt.  Most believe he dressed in his wife's attire to escape as a woman.  Other articles defend his honor by saying it was cold that night and his wife insisted he stayed warm by wearing her clothes which were readily available.  That is one part of American history where the reader has to decided for themselves on exactly why Jefferson Davis was wearing the woman's overcoat and shaw.

Gen. Pritchard

     Michigan's 4th Cavalry Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin D. Pritchard from Allegan, Michigan headed up that charge to find Jefferson Davis.  Pritchard was in Abbeyville, Ga. at the time when word got around on Jefferson Davis whereabouts.  Davis was only 30 miles south of where the Michigan's 4th Cavalry was at.  On their way south local people would help point them to the right direction which lead them to Davis' camp.  Pritchard transported Davis to Fort Monroe, Va. where Davis served his prison term.  After the capture Pritchard was promoted to Brigadier General.

The location of Allegan, Allegan County, Mi.

     Before the war Pritchard came to Allegan in 1856 where he studied law and was a teacher at the Allegan Public Schools.  He ended up having a law office and became an important man in the community.  In 1862 he felt a calling to serve his country by enlisting in the Union Army.  He came back a hero in Michigan.   He served as the director of the Allegan School Board and helped establish three new schools and organized the first high school.  In 1870, Pritchard organized the National Bank of Allegan and served as its president until 1905.  In 1864, while on a short leave from service, he met a lady from Ohio, Mary Bently Kent, and quickly married her.  He bought her a house in Allegan and it still stands to this day.  It is rumored that desendants of Pritchard still own the house.  Benjamin D. Pritchard passed away November 26, 1907 at the age of 72.  People wanted him to run for governor for Michigan in 1884 but he turned it down.  However, Pritchard did accept an elected position of  State Treasurer Of Michigan 1880 to 1884. 

Home of Benjamin Pritchard in Allegan, Mi.
330 Davis st.
Photo By:  Liza Jennings

Benjamin Pritchard final resting place at Oakwood Cemetery
in Allegan, Mi.
Photo by: Liza Jennings



Impulsive Actions Leads To Self Discipline

     I was in my Junior year of at Heritage High School in Saginaw.  I was starting to turn my rebellious ways around and I was finally making honor roll at school.  Most of the classes came easy for me except one, geometery.  I never could understand the point of knowing how to prove theories and studing theorems.  I daydreamed of taking those shapes and figures and using them to create a device specifically to torture the greek mathematician Euclid, the father of geometery.  

     It did make it easy that my old science teacher from Nouvel Catholic Central transferred over to the public school to teach and he was now our geometery teacher.  I remember before school started I looked at my schedule and seen Talbot as to who teaching the course and thought to myself, This can't be the SAME teacher I had before.  Sure enough on the first day there was Mr. Talbot up at the chalkboard in a shirt and tie.  He looked refreshed to see a familar face as well.  He used his knowledge of me to help pass out papers or to run errands.  Unfortunally, he would also call on me often for answers to geometery problems.  Overall, I think I got a C+ that year in his class which I was happy with.  He wasn't a boring teacher.  He did try to make his class fun as much as he could. 

     As you walked in the door the chalkboard was straight to the front.  To the right were 3 rows of tables and to the left were also 3 rows of tables.  Four student's would sit to a table.  Mr. Talbot's desk sat in front in the middle of the walkway to the chalkboard.  I don't know if it was the layout of the classroom or the students in it but it was a very comfortable class to be in.  For the most part we all got along with each other. 

     I sat in the front row on the right hand side when you walked into the room.  To my right sat a guy I was dating at the time and to my left sat a freshman boy named Mason.  Mason was such a smart, sweet kid who wouldn't harm a fly.  He was short and kind of on the chunky side.  He was the type of person that everyone considered as a brother.  There would be times we would be bored and doodle on each other's papers or try to stomp on each other's foot to see who would make a noise and get into trouble.  He was fun to goof off with.  However, if I did need something to be explained in my homework he was always willing to help.  He was very kind in that way. 

     One day Mr. Talbot was trying to teach us something difficult.  I must of been tired that day because I wasn't in the joking around mood.  Mason would try to poke me with his pencil and laugh.  Looking back I know he was trying to make me smile but I wasn't in the mood at the time.  I asked him to stop.  He did stop for a little while then I would feel a poke in my side from his pencil eraser.  Then another poke.  I firmly told him he needed to stop and that I was trying to pay attention.  A few moment's later - poke, poke, poke.  The eraser jabbed at my side again with Mason giggling thinking he was getting away with something.  Without even thinking the back of my hand reached around and I backhanded him across his face.  The sound of my hand smacking across his face echoed across the room.  It was followed by a few gasps from students who witnessed the event.  Mr. Talbot turned around to see what happened.  Mason quickly got up and ran out of the room.  For a second I was numb.  It seemed surreal that I did such a cruel and hurtful thing. 

     "I can't believe you just did that!" came from Jason, the guy I was dating.  He, then, got up and dashed out the door to find Mason.  I sat there for a moment, eyes closed with my head down.  Remorse sat in.  I had never struck anyone like that in my life before.  Mr. Talbot was still speechless.  He was probably trying to make sense out of what happened as his back was turned when I backhanded Mason.  It seemed like a minute had passed when I knew what I needed to do.  I had to find Mason and apologize to him.  I looked up at Mr. Talbot with a look that told him that I needed to remedy the situtation.  Leaving my books on the table I got up and left the room in search of Mason. 

     I rounded the halls in the circular building and found Mason sitting on the floor leaning up against the brickwall, his head buried into his knees that were pulled up to his chest.  Jason was already there consoling him.  Jason took notice that I was there and gave me a disgusted look.  The look he gave me was granted.  I deserved it.  He tried to shoo me away but I couldn't leave.  I needed to make my peace with Mason. 

     I sat down next to Mason and put my hand on his shoulder.  I never felt so horrible.  I was ashamed of my thoughtless actions.  All three of us sat out in the hallway talking and working things out.  The bell to signal the changing of classes rang.  We got up and gave each other a hug.  All was well between us.  We entered back into the classroom and Mr. Talbot looked at us wondering what happened.  I apologized to Mr. Talbot for disrupting the class and for striking out at Mason.  I think Mr. Talbot knew that doing such a thing was out of character for me and he knew we handled it.  By all rights I should of received a detention for striking another student and I would of accepted it but I never got one.  I believe Mr. Talbot seen our maturity in how we handled the situtation and  he knew I was very remorseful for my actions. 

      Mason and I both agreed that we both were wrong that day.  He said he should of stopped bothering me when I asked him to but that still was  not an excuse for my actions.   I never lashed out at anyone like that again.  I am not proud of my actions that day in class but I have learned from them.   I learned to check my actions and not be spontaneous with my emotions.  I learned to own up to what I had done and to know to seek and apology without someone guiding me to do so.  I did a lot of growing up that day. 

     I ended up moving across the state at the end of that year.  I will never know what ever happened to Mason or if he even remembers this situtation.  But I still remember and I still regret my careless actions. 

Hidden Among The Toys

     It was shortly after the 2000 year.  I was visiting with my sister being very much pregnant with my third child while our little children played together.  Her oldest daughter is 18 months older than my oldest son, who was 3 and a half at the time and who is a year older than my daughter.  Having them all close in age made it fun for visiting and watching the children play and interact with one another.  My sister also had twin boys around 6 or 7 months old at the time.  Although the children loved looking and holding the babies they weren't quite mobile enough to keep the older children's attention much of the time.  The older children were much happier playing with the toys in the bedroom.

     At the time my sister lived in a small apartment getting ready to buy a house.   We were in the kitchen starting to get a late lunch ready.  We decided to feed the twins first then the older children since they were happily playing in the bedroom.  My sister and I talked and laughed as she fed one twin and I fed the other jarred baby food mixed in with a little baby cereal.  Moments passed when her daughter entered the kitchen area looking around. 

     "Where's Bam-Bam?"  she asked.  Bam-Bam was the nickname we had given to my oldest son, Christian.  He had beautiful white hair and was a solid little guy like the cartoon character from the Flintstones. 

     Lisa and I looked at each other bewildered.  "What do you mean 'Where's Bam-Bam'"?  I asked her.

     "Oh, he's just gone."  she says in a matter-of-factly childish voice.  She turns around and prances off, her blonde pigtails bouncing off her sholders.

     "GONE?"  my sister and I shout out.

     We both stand up from the table and dash into the bedroom.  My daughter Beth and Abbie resumed playing with Barbie dolls on the floor.  Other than that the room was quiet.  My sister opens her bedroom door and looks around.  No little boy to be found.  I look into the bathroom which is directly next to my nieces bedroom and across from my sister's bedroom.  Even though he wasn't fully potty trained yet I was hoping to see him on the toilet.  Nothing.  I met up with my sister in the livingroom.  From there we can see every room in the apartment.  We stood there in awe looking around trying to make sense out of the whole situtation.  From the kitchen table we can see the only door in the apartment and we didn't see it open.  Besides, it was locked with a sliding chain lock. 

     "Do you think he could of tried to open the door and was able to squeeze through the opening?"  my sister asked me as we both stared at the door. 

     My brain went numb.  He never tried to leave the house before.  But there is always a first time.  I shrugged my sholders and shook my head, "I don't know.  I am not sure." 

     "I am going outside to look.  Stay here with the kids."  she directed to me. 

     I go back into the kitchen.  Could he have climbed into the cupboards and we didn't notice?  I thought.  The twins were happily slapping their hands into their plates of mushy goo and sucking on their fingers.  I bend over and open up all the cupboards.  Nothing.  My chair was up against a sliding glass door which let to a small porch.  I know he wasn't out there.  I could hear my sister calling Christian's name from outside.  The windows are open?  Could he have pushed on a screen and fall out?  My sister's apartment was 2 stories up.  I run into my sister's bedroom.  The screen was intact.  I jolt into my niece's room.  The screen was intact there too.  Where could he have gone?!  It seemed as if time was standing still.  Seconds were dragging on, so it seemed.  I looked at my niece's bed and quickly bent down to look under it.  Nothing.  I look around her room.  In her closet was her toy box with chalkboard sliding doors.  The doors were closed.  I had to look.  I slide one door open and there was my son!  He was fast asleep in the toy box.

     I went over to the window and called out to my sister to let her know I found him.   She runs upstairs and flys into the apartment.  "Where is he?"  she calls out relieved but wanting visual confirmation. 

    I smile and point her over to the toy box.  She looks in and sees him sleeping.  My daughter and niece laugh at the site of Christian in there.  "There's Bam-Bam!"  my niece calls out.





Christian asleep in my niece's toy box.



His feet on the other side of the toy box.

     

 

    

I slide him carefully out of the toy box and lay him down on the couch.  He never once opened his eyes as I transferred him to a more comfortable, and noticable, location.  I don't know what made him think to fall asleep in the toy box and not in another area more comfortable like the bed or the couch.  I know I will never know.  I don't think I took my eyes off of him for the rest of the day. 

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.   

Memory Of A Song

     Have you ever heard a song and flashed back to a memory from when you were young?  I believe certain songs, when heard at the right moment, helps create a special memory that is forever stored in a file located way back in the corner of our brains.  I have several songs that when I hear them I am catapulted back in time to relive the moment in my thoughts. 



     It was the summer of 1992.  I finished up my freshman year of high school at Nouvel Catholic Central in Saginaw.  Unfortunally, I enjoyed many other things rather than school and my grades suffered because of that.  Since my grades were well below "f"antastic I had to take a few classes of summer school at Arthur Hill High School. 

     It wasn't so bad taking summer classes.  Some of my friends that aided in my dimishing grades were the same ones in my classes at "The Hill".  Personally, I think we all corrupted each other and we enjoyed it.   Before school and out on breaks we would gather in packs out in the parking lot to see who has cigarettes and some would be passed around.  Sometimes the security guard would even walk over and smoke with us.  He would never give out one of his cigarettes but he would offer his zippo for anyone who needed it. 

     One beautiful warm summer day we were tired of sitting in the classroom.  We passed notes with each other daring to just get up and walk out.  Finally, my friend Shannon and I decided to go for it.  Right in the middle of class we packed up our stuff and just blatantly walked out of class.  We went out to the parking lot for a cigarette and to decided what to do next.  Soon another friend, Erin, joined in with another girl from class.  FREEDOM!  We decided to call a friend of ours ,Scott who just graduated from another school, to come and pick us up.   We walk back to the school parking lot to wait. 

     Scott pulls into the parking lot in his pick-up.  He brought along his friend Joe.  Shannon shouts out, "SHOT-GUN!" and squeezes her way between them in the front.  Erin, the other girl, and myself climb up and over into the bed of the truck and make ourselves comfortable in the corners of the truck resting our arms on the side.  We took off.  The music was loud and we were young and carefree. 

     Scott turns down the radio and hollar's out that he has a new song for us to listen to.  He opens up the cassette case and pops a cassette into the player in the dash.  We start to hear the lyrics:

Blame it all on my roots

I showed up in boots

And ruined your black tie affair...

We all started to groan and scream, "NOOOO!  IT'S COUNTRY!  WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO COUNTRY?!"  But Scott was persistent that we listened to it.   

     The song grew on us.  It wasn't long after that we were wanting to listen to Garth Brook's "Friends In Low Places" song.  By the time school dances came around we all had the song memorized and we would sing along, badly, with the lyrics. 

     This was my first exposure (besides Kenny Rodgers but everyone loves his classic songs) to country music.  His album "No Fences" was enjoyable.  To my suprise the album came out 2 years prior.  I still prefer other methods of music genre over country music but I can tolerate some country songs.