Courage

 

You will not go through this alone.

When the winds blow hard,

And the waves crash down,

Know that your hand is in mine.

My heart is carefully wrapped around yours.

You will not fail. You will not fall.

And if you stumble,

My arms will catch you.

My strength will hold you up until

You have recovered your own.

If the roads seem impassible,

And the rains blind your way,

Turn and look into my eyes.

You will find unfathomable love,

Joyous faith, immovable confidence,

All for you. You may take them as your own.

There will be trying times where you may want to quite.

They will come...they will pass.

Remember, you will not be conquered by this.

The shadows shall have no victory.

You are strong. You are beautiful. You are brave.

And you are not alone.

I cannot fight this battle for you.

But I can fight it with you.

We are in this together, you and I.

You are a warrior.

You are a conqueror.

Courage.

(Author Unknown)

What Kind of Closet is That?

 

If asked what my dream house would look like, one of the very basic requirements would be a huge walk-in closet. I love to organize, and I like every piece of clothing, purses, scarves and shoes to have their very own cubbies.

My last house in Virginia had such a closet. It had space for hanging clothes, shelves, a storage area, and next to that more space for hanging clothes. It was in that area that I turned into a small private office. That was some closet! I loved hanging out there. What privacy and solitude I experienced.

Up to that point in my life, I thought of closets as places to store things in and not a place to come out of. But come out I did, because at age 49, I realized I was gay and had been my entire life. It was a real shock to me since I had been dating since I was 19. Plus, I had two ex-husbands and was married at the time to future ex-husband number three.

Let me tell you, coming out in Northern Virginia was quite an experience. I had people tell me it was a phase that I would soon tire of and that I was acting out to get attention. And the way they described my coming out was, “Sharon? She changed horses in mid-stream.” or “Sharon’s going through a mid-life crisis, probably due to menopause.” Oh please! 

 The reason I came out was because I finally met a person who treated me as the wonderful, loving, funny, attractive, creative creature that I was. She didn’t try to mold me into someone I wasn’t, and she understood what made me tick. 

The men in my life were always demanding me to be someone I wasn’t. To them I wasn’t thin enough, attractive enough, well-educated enough and so forth. Also, I did not have breasts to their liking. All I ever wanted from a man was to be appreciated for who I was, and not for what they wanted me to be.

During my years married, I read a lot of romantic novels to keep me content and in my place. The plot line was always the same - the heroine would find a man who immensely annoyed her, but due to a maze of inspired-by-evil events, he rescues her. At the end of the story, he becomes her prince charming, and they live happily ever after. 

Unfortunately, in real life, as we all know, it isn’t that simple. The problem was I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t and never could be. Once I had that epiphany, my life changed for the better.

Being a Lesbian at any age isn’t easy nor is it without its trauma-filled moments. Try getting a divorce from a white male, and a Republican to boot in a Southern State. A big oops! One finds out very quickly who really are the open-minded liberals and the ones who pretend to be….and never were.

 Another one of life’s lessons learned: you fill up your closet with lots of stuff so one can hide from the world about who you really are. It gets so crowded in there that you need to come out, just to be able to breathe and be your true self.

Note: I came out in 2003 and in 2004 married my person. This December it will be 19 years!

 

Me & the Horizontal Slide

 

In July of 2021, I was in Albany, New York looking for a house to buy. My real estate agent knew I was not familiar with the area. She said “New York drivers (NYDs) are very aggressive. And the only way not to be involved in a car accident is to be aggressive back.”

What did I get myself into? I found out that NYDs have an intense desire to drive recklessly. They are insane. It’s like they are all driving without having their first cup of coffee causing them to be very angry and taking it out on out-of-state drivers. Which would be me.

My car had an New Hampshire license plate, because that is where I lived at the time, that said, “Live Free or Die.” Well, NYDs took those words very seriously and were ruthless with me.

"Threading the needle" is when a driver weaves in and around cars. Well, NYDs do that daily. Did I mention NYDs are crazy?

Well, I found another evasive form of driving that seems to be popular with NYDs. I decided to call it the “Horizontal Slide.” This is the act of changing lanes by just sliding over. It’s amazing to witness it. Unfortunately, not a fun experience if you are in the way of a slider. Which I was.

I was driving on I-787 when my agent gasped loudly. I saw a car sliding over to our lane (toward the passenger side of the car).

As I am doing some serious defensive moves to try not to get us killed, I’m thinking, “Wow! This is going to really hurt a lot.” Not a single image of my life passed before my eyes, which really says a lot about my life.

Thankfully, the car to my immediate left backed off so that I could move into its lane and not slide directly into it. I lived, only to experience crazier NYDs later that day.

As Taylor Swift would say, “Welcome to New York.” Yup!!!

Me & Saving the Day

Since I’ve moved to Albany in October, I have noticed that the people have been wonderful, helpful and kind to me. Of course, they would be – if you saw a woman standing in the street waving you down (happened in  “Me & Getting Lost - Chapter 1”).

The other thing I’ve noticed is there have been four car accidents on our little block of ten houses since October. Our young neighbors, who have lived here for two years, don’t understand why all of a sudden there are multiple accidents. Well…things seem to happen when we are around. Think of us as a potential sitcom called the “Black Cloud.” It always seems to be hanging around us.

So last Saturday, I was out in the front yard, doing some gardening and had just stepped into the house when I heard that familiar sound of two cars slamming into one another. I turned around saw one car touching a tree on our grassy boulevard. I couldn’t see the other at that point.

I dialed “911” on our landline (yes, I’m one of those people). I explained there had been a car accident and gave the street location. I was asked questions that I couldn’t answer. How many cars, how many people involved and were any of them hurt? I explained about the sound one hears when two cars slam into one another. The 911 operator thanked me for calling and that help was on the way.

I walked over to the other side of our boulevard to let people know that 911 had been called. I saw two people dressed like they were going to an event. They were. They were headed to the nearby Temple to attend a bar mitzvah. Their car was totaled and as you might expect, the airbags had deployed.

There were a number of people at the site, and I thought some of them were involved in the accident. No, they were neighbors like me, coming to help. One brought water and folding chairs for the people in the accident to sit on.

Come to find out, the two people in the car that was resting on the tree, were still in the car. I never saw them in all the excitement. At one point, I did see a stretcher near the passenger side.

One of the neighbors whom I recently met (Sarah), was standing with the couple and was very upset. I found out she had been stopped at the stop sign when Sam and Martha’s car was hit. Their car swung around and missed Sarah’s car by mere inches.

Sam & Martha had driven up from Long Island to attend the bar mitzvah. They now had no car and were stranded. I volunteered to take them to the Temple, but the service was almost over. They now needed a car to get to their hotel and then head back to Long Island the next day.

Sam was talking to the insurance company’s customer service rep about getting a rental car from Enterprise (the insurance company had a contract with). In the meantime, one of my neighbors was moving their belongings into my car. We found that the Enterprise located downtown was going to close at noon, it was now 11:40. Off we go.

Martha had Waze and was guiding me downtown. I was following her instructions and we were doing great until I missed the street we were supposed to turn on. I turned around in someone’s driveway.

Things got crazy. I ended up by my nemesis “The Egg” and I knew I was truly lost (see previous posting “Me & Getting Lost”). I made another turn, and the road was blocked off by the police for some type of an event, I made another turn and ended up crossing the Hudson River to Rensselaer. Don’t ask.

Sam called Enterprise to let them know we were on our way but had ended up on the wrong side of the river. At this point, the Enterprise Customer Rep checked and said he didn’t have a car registered in Sam’s name. The only other option was to go to the Albany Airport where another Enterprise was located.

Okay folks, here’s where it got really dicey. I knew how to get to the Albany Airport from my house. I have PTSD from my various failed trips into the City of Albany. So off we go, passing the intersection where the accident occurred and where my house was.

We made it to the Airport. Only to find that Enterprise doesn’t handle insurance-related rental cars and even if they did, all their cars were rented out for the next three days. Yikes.

Sam went off to talk to Budget Rental. They too don’t deal with the insurance-related rentals. At this point, it didn’t matter, they needed a car to get back home to Long Island.

One thing Martha kept saying was how kind I was to help them out. Why wouldn’t I? I would like to think if I were in a situation like theirs, someone would do the same to help me.

I’m grateful that I live in the neighborhood that I do. A number of people came to their aid which is the way it should be. People helping one another, being kind to each other. In today’s world we need so much more of that kindness.

Me & the Creepy Crawlers

 

OMG! I’m from Nebraska so that translates to “Oh My Gosh.” We have centipedes in our house! We’ve killed four in the past two weeks. They are approximately 3 inches in length, by my estimation. I haven’t had the opportunity to measure them, and I don’t plan to.

I know absolutely nothing about centipedes. I went out to the Internet. The information I found there was just frightening.

They can range from under 1 inch to 7 inches long. What the hell?!?! They prefer dark, damp places and wet climates. We have a damp, wet basement which is one of their favorite hide outs. I’m doomed!!! I’m moving to the North Pole.

They have the ability to bite! They will bite if picked up – that’s not going to happen in my household. EVER! Also, if you step on one, they will bite. I’m going to start wearing my Wellies in the house. And, if you make them angry, they will run straight at you. What?!?!?

I checked with my neighbors. Wet basements are a fact of life in this area and obviously so are centipedes. One neighbor said, “Very common, welcome to the neighborhood. No!!!

One neighbor doesn’t have centipedes; she has silverfish instead. I looked them up on the Internet. Very prehistoric looking. I hope they aren’t living in our basement as well. Because if they are, I’m moving.

Here’s the kicker. The female centipede can lay between 35 to 100 eggs at a time. And a common house centipede can have a life expectancy of up to 5 years. OMG, what universe am I living in?

My suggestion to the City of Albany is to change their logo to make Albany the “Centipede Capital of New York State.” That would definitely bring in more tourists!

Me & Water

So…water has followed me everywhere I’ve lived, beginning when I was four years old. At the time, we lived at the Kadena Air Force Base in Okinawa, Japan. Point of interest: the island of Okinawa can get hit with seven or eight typhoons a year, while the mainland may only get hit by two or three.

I spent a portion of my childhood standing on our couch with water lapping at my toes due to typhoons. Where we lived on the Base, the drainage system, designed for large amounts of storm water to flow through, would get clogged. My father would have to wade out and dislodge whatever was blocking the system. The water moved at such a force that we didn’t know we had a clog until the living room filled up with water.

Many years later, I lived in Washington, D.C., in an “English Basement” whatever that means. In reality, it was a basement with tiny windows and an even tinier living space. The owner had recently had some work done on the back stairway. The construction company had moved a pipe which unfortunately allowed muddy water to drain through the pipe to our below grade entrance. Well…it clogged up and I came home to a very wet “English Basement.”

Years later, a house we owned in New England, had water issues as well. Getting the drift of this story line now?

When we were doing our home inspection here in Albany, there was a tiny amount of water in the basement. When asked, the owner said that water appeared now and then over the five years she had lived there, but it was not a big deal. It went away with the use of a dehumidifier.

Two weeks after moving into our house it rained and there wasn’t a lot of water, but I wouldn’t describe it as “a tiny amount of water” either. I had to move our unpacked moving boxes away from the water, which was disconcerting.

I had hired a handyman to do some work around our house. He told me he had experience in masonry work, so I had him patch the area where the water was coming in. All he did was make matters worse, and with the next big rain, the wet area increased in size. The end result of his attempting to fix our “wet basement” is that I had to hire someone with real masonry experience to correct the situation. Oh, the price of home ownership.

Side Bar: Recently, a house near us had a serious basement issue. The entire rear wall collapsed in the middle of the night. The house had to be demolished later that day with all the owner’s belongings (furniture, appliances, etc.) because the foundation was dangerously unsafe. What I’m having to pay for fixing our basement isn’t a big deal after all. Especially if it means we won’t be awakened in the night with the rear wall of our basement gone.

Oh, by the way, does Albany ever get typhons?

Me & Albany, NY

Every time I’ve mentioned that we’ve moved from New Hampshire (previously we had lived in Massachusetts), folks here in Albany, ask why? They are confused, because there are many New Yorkers that want to, or are moving, out of the state due to high property and state taxes. By the way, New Hampshire doesn’t have state taxes, but the property taxes are higher than in many parts of New York State.

I explain that we found an affordable house in the City of Albany. Where in today’s world of the Pandemic and bidding wars, it was such a gift to find a house that was worth the asking price without gouging one’s pocketbook.

There are so many stores and opportunities to visit other small towns and businesses around Albany, like Amsterdam, NY. In one direction on the train, you can get to New York City, and the other direction, one can head toward Montreal. How cool is that?

We are situated between two hospitals. A nearby airport services many hubs on the East Coast. We are near two major malls. One has a Macy’s and a Christmas Tree Shop. What more could one want?

Where we were living in western New Hampshire, we had access to a Kohl’s and a Walmart. While living there I had to shop online to buy clothes and other items. I like shopping in person even if it's just checking out items that are pretty to look at.

By the way, I’m now officially a New Yorker, and that is a long way from when I was a Cornhusker from Nebraska.