Different Viewpoints

I have come to the conclusion that I view the world different from the experts. Whether looking at food, movies, or music, I tend to have a much different way of judging than the experts who are known as critics. When I hear something touted as critically acclaimed, this translates to me that I am probably not going to like it nearly as much. Maybe the reason is that I experience life in a much different way than the critics experience it in their specialty area. Why is that?

One of the significant differences between these experts and myself is education. My college major was social science, the study of history, politics, economics, sociology and psychology. When I graduated with my bachelors of arts degree, I was qualified to teach any of these subjects at the secondary education level. The experts either have degrees in their specialty area and/or experience. So when they encounter whatever they are reviewing, they encounter it from an academic and/or experience viewpoint. When I encounter those same areas, I have the vantage point of an average person with much less background.

Another difference between them and myself is that when they eat a meal, watch a movie, or listen to some music, they are being paid to do so by someone. They take their knowledge and dissect whatever they are reviewing. A critic will take each part and rate those parts individually then give an overall view based on their experience with the parts. When I approach the same item, I come to view it on one basic question: Does it bring me pleasure?

This leads me to explain what creates pleasure for me in these three categories. When speaking of food, I want the taste to be enjoyable; the texture to be right; and the ability of the food to satisfy my hunger and/or craving. With regard to movies, I seek entertainment. Does the movie keep me engaged? Does it create some sort of emotion(s) within me? Will I walk out of the theater wondering how the time passed so quickly or did I feel like it went on forever? Music is a lot like the other two items. I want music to be understandable to me. Can I make sense of the lyrics or melody? Do I feel some emotion when I hear the song? Is a memory or image created in my mind by what I hear?

I think the different approaches which I take to these aspects of life from what a critic might is why I come to a much different conclusion. My approach centers on aesthetics and emotions while a critic looks at the mechanics and details. I want the food, movie, or music to enhance my life in some way. A critic wants these to meet technical criteria. Different viewpoints which lead to different conclusions.

What is your criteria for judging if something is excellent, good, or bad?

Who Am I

Defining one’s self can be an interesting prospect. Quite a few individuals define themselves based on their occupation or career. When someone first meets another person, often the first question which is asked is what the other person does for a living. I think this is why most people begin their definition of self with in light of their job or career. The problem with this starting point for a definition is that if the person retires or becomes unemployed for some reason, their definition of self crumbles a bit.

Another key component of defining who we are is found in relationships. A person may continue his/her definition by stating they are a father, a mother, a sister, a brother, the son, or the daughter of, a wife or a husband. Again, a problem presents itself here if the significant relationship ends due to death or divorce. This does not mean that the role has definitely disappeared but it has at minimum lessened.

For those who do not rely on their employment or familial relationships to be key components of their self defining, a person may choose to use their hometown or where they are now living as a definer. Like the other two components, the issue is that locations in a person’s life change. While not as dramatic as the other two instances, it still can cause a ripple in the definition of self.

There are a great variety other aspects of life which may be used in the definition of self:

  • Sexuality
  • Religious beliefs
  • Political affiliations
  • Ethnicity
  • Favorite teams
  • Hobbies

The list can continue indefinitely. Take a moment to look at some social media profiles and you will be amazed at the different components which are found in the profile descriptions people use. I do not want to state that any of these are trivial. Some would even argue that by combining all these varied components that we are able to create a self-definition.

I contend that such an approach is lacking. I understand why that seems to be the default approach of most people. This requires far less effort and time than the approach which I will advocate in a bit. Generally, it also seems to be the safest approach. True, unless some dramatic life event alters these components and the person is left realizing they cannot actually define who they are anymore.

For me, the defining of who I am requires me to take time to do some introspection. I need to look at what are the core elements of my life and my spirit. This causes me to examine what is important to me and why. I have to spend some time determining what I believe to be true and upon what I base those beliefs. I am forced to see how I have been influenced by other people, my context, and my experiences; both the good and the challenging. My dreams, my hopes, and my aspirations must be taken into account.

I would state that this is not a one-time for all time activity. Our definition of self changes over time. I view this as a good reality since it provides an opportunity to redefine ourselves. This requires us to do some self-examination and evaluation at different points in our lives. I think it also takes some pressures off of us since we know that who we define ourselves as today is not permanent. This opens the door to learning, growing and changing which is the definition of life.

I challenge you to take some time to create your self-definition. Creating this definition will require more than an hour or two. You will need to answer some questions which you may never have asked yourself. You may need to struggle with some aspects that you have ignored or have not had an awareness. Although, if you truly put in the effort, I am confident that the reward will be lasting and significant.

A Tribute to Betty Lou

It was my second year of volunteering for the Blue Ribbon Foundation at the Iowa State Fair. For one of my shifts, I was assigned to work in the merchandise trailer located on Grand Avenue. I was nervous but excited at the same time. After I checked in with the volunteer coordinator, I went inside the trailer and met two women who I would be working with for the next four hours. They seemed to know each other and I definitely felt like a newcomer. One of these ladies would become one of my closest friends at the fair, Betty Lou.

Betty Lou had volunteered at the fair with the Blue Ribbon Foundation since the Foundation came into existence. She was raised on a farm in south central Iowa and had been a regular attendee of the fair for most of her life. The Foundation came into existence in 1993 to help raise funds for improvements to the physical structures of the fairgrounds. The state legislature and income from the yearly event were not able to give enough funding for much-needed repairs and upgrades. Because of Betty Lou’s love of the Iowa State Fair, she wanted to help improve it and makeit one of the nation’s greatest state fairs. So she volunteered every day of the state fair and the fair merchandise trailer had become one of her main areas of work. She also would do a few shifts at one of the water booths.

I soon came to realize that Betty Lou was the person who I would need to learn from if I was going to be a successful volunteer. She knew all about the items which we were selling from t-shirts to prints to toy John Deere tractors. She was informed about the various ways that people could leave legacies at the fair and provide financial support through bricks, lamp posts, memberships, and benches. Betty Lou could give directions to fair goers about the booth which had the newest fair food or where to find the infamous Butter Cow. She could tell them the history of the checkers tournament or the sheep barn. If you needed to know something about the Iowa State Fair, Betty Lou was the person to go to and many would send fair goers to her directly. So I spent the next few years learning from this extremely knowledgeable lady.

In just a few short years, I was mimicking my new friend and volunteering every night at the fair. This meant that I was limited in my shifts with Betty Lou but I stopped in to see her every day we were not working together. We even started coordinating together which volunteer shirt we were wearing for the day. Soon she would shift from doing only daytime shifts to working nights with me. When we were not busy, we would spend the time-sharing about our lives, our families, what we had seen that day at the fair, and the amazing characters who we encountered. Before long, we were also volunteering together for other Blue Ribbon Foundation fundraisers such as the annual Iowa Cattle Show and the Corndog Kickoff.

Between the fair and other volunteer events, we would call each other occasionally. Then Betty Lou upgraded her cell phone (she had a flip phone for years) and before long she was texting me. We spent many hours laughing and sharing stories together. Christmas cards and birthday cards became a regular thing between us. She would hassle me if I was not able to volunteer with her.

Then about two weeks ago, I received a text from a mutual friend. She asked me to call her when I had the opportunity. Something inside me knew this was not a phone call which I was going to like. Within an hour, I called her, and she gave me the news that Betty Lou had been found laying on the floor of her home unresponsive. Her sister had stopped by the house because she had not heard from her in a few days and Betty Lou lived alone. Later we would find out from the medical staff that her blood sugar had bottomed out which caused her to lose consciousness. The problem was that she probably had laid on the floor for a couple of days. She was taken to the hospital and placed on life support. Through our friend and Betty Lou’s sister, I was receiving updates on Betty Lou’s condition. Last Thursday, her sister made the difficult decision of removing life support. Since Betty Lou was always a bit of a fighter, she actually continued to breath on her own and seemed to be stabilizing but there was no sign of regaining consciousness. On Friday, they made the decision to move Betty Lou from the hospital to a hospice center in her town. The move went well and the medical staff indicated that she was stable so recommended her sister go home. Within a short amount of time, the call came that Betty Lou had died.

I knew the call would be coming, but I was not eager. When her sister called to tell me the news the next day, I saw Betty Lou’s cell phone number come up on my phone and was certain the purpose of the call. Her sister used Betty Lou’s phone because it had all of her contacts in it already. They were trying to decide what to do for a service and while she had indicated that she wanted me to be a part of that service, her sister knew that weather and distance was not going to make that very possible.

All that took place three days ago. Each day since then I have had times when I think about Betty Lou. She was a lady who gave of herself more than most people would ever know. She cared deeply about people but would seldom let them be aware. She loved Iowa, her hometown, and the Iowa State Fair. She was always a farm girl even though she would eventually work at one of the hospitals in Des Moines. She was someone who I had grown to admire, respect, and love. I will always think of her, especially when I see one of my Iowa State Fair t-shirts or hear anything about the fair.

Thank you, Betty Lou from all who get to enjoy the Iowa State Fair which you worked so hard to improve. Thank you, Betty Lou for all who benefited from your kindness and generosity. Thank you, Betty Lou from an Iowa boy who learned so much from you and will always love you. You will never be forgotten!

A Summer Day for a Small Town Boy

I shared a little about growing up in a small Iowa town last week in my post, “Small Town Life.” At the end of that post, I indicated that I would be sharing more around that theme in the future. Today, I decided that my post would give you a glimpse into an average summer day in my childhood.

Not every day was the same but each of them carried some typical elements. Each of them was filled with a lot of time outside, exploration, and adventure. My mother would encourage me to go outside. I always thought it was because she wanted me to explore and enjoy the world around me but as I have grown a bit older, I think often she wanted me out of her hair. Either way, I was more than happy to oblige her.

After I had awakened and dressed, I headed outside for a day of adventure. One of the nice aspects of living in a small town is that you never seemed to worry about where you were headed or who you would meet. There were certain signals which told you that you needed to check in at home but other than that you were able to explore the  whole time. Only your age and energy put boundaries on the exploration.

After departing from the house, time consisted of checking out the yard. Maybe a little time on the swing which hung from the branch of the tall pine tree in our front yard. Then out to the back corner where the weeping willow tree could become a hideaway as the long branches concealed a small boy when he got close to the trunk. There was always some type of insect to discover on the ground and you could spend a large amount of time sitting in the shade of that tree without anyone being able to easily find you. Of course the yard exploration could not be complete without inspecting the apple tree which actually was in the yard of the next door neighbors but right along your yard. Then head over to other side of the yard where the small abandoned shed with the discarded appliances was located. During the right time of the summer, you could pick mulberries from the volunteer tree on the side of the shed. Then create a whole story line of adventure in the shed playing with the unwanted stove.

Soon the fire whistle in town would sound. This sound at this time of the day meant it was noon. When this whistle blew, I knew it was time for me to stop my adventures from the morning and head into the house. It would not be long before I would hear the engine of my dad’s work van. He was a self-employed electrician but knew that mother always expected him to arrive at noon for lunch. I would go inside, wash my hands, and as soon as dad was in the house and settled in at the kitchen table, mom would set out whatever she had planned for that day. Lunch was always a lighter meal and sometimes consisted of left-overs. After eating lunch, dad would go lay down for his midday nap which lasted from the point he was finished eating until 1:00 pm. Mom would clean up from lunch and I would head outside to begin my adventures for the afternoon unless I was planning on going to the town’s swimming pool.

If I did not head to the swimming pool, I might get on my bike and go visit a friend whose dad was the Lutheran pastor. We spent hours riding our bikes on the sidewalks of the church and the block surrounding it while we played cops and robbers. Or the afternoon might consist of joining my friend who lived behind me as we headed across the large outfield of the school’s ball diamond to a clump of trees and overgrown plants. In the center of this area we had built a fort which included space for us to sit on pieces of wood and dream up adventures. After sitting there a while, we might climb up on to the railroad tracks that ran alongside the area. We would walk down the tracks to the train trestle bridge. If I was feeling brave, I would walk from railroad tie to railroad tie of the bridge to get to the other side. Always looking down through the space between the ties and shaking a little because of how high we were above the creek. Once on the other side we might decide to crawl down the hillside on the side opposite of the junk yard where a big and ferocious dog who no one had ever seen but had heard lived. This would take us to the small creek where we would spend time exploring, digging for crawfish and enjoying the cold water.

The afternoon adventures would continue until once again the town’s fire whistle would blow to indicate it was now 6:00 pm. The whistle had the same effect that the noon whistle did for every kid in the town. Now was the time to go home because supper (I did not call the evening meal dinner until I went to college) was on the table. There was a little grace period from when the whistle sounded until you were expected to be coming through the front door of the house. If you went too long, then you probably were confined to the house the rest of the evening. If you made it inside by the reasonable amount of time after the whistle then you could return to the outside until the appointed time.

Evening adventures depended a little upon what part of the summer we were in and when the sun went down. These adventures might include time on the swing in the front yard again and seeing how high I could get the swing. It also could mean heading to school to play with others on the playground equipment. As we came closer to fall, it usually always included time spent in one of the makeshift football fields we created either in the back part of the ball diamond’s outfield or the open lots that were near the school building. My responsibility was to be the referee of such intense scrimmages. When the sun went down, it was expected that I head home. If it was an extremely warm night, I may be allowed to run across the street to the ball diamond and see how many fireflies I could catch in the mayonnaise jar which Mom had put holes in the lid of with a nail. If not, then often I was off to the bathroom to take a bath and get cleaned up for bed.

Every day was a little different and had a variety of combinations of activities and adventures. Although the consistent aspect of a day in the life of this small town boy was activity and adventure outside. By the end of the summer, I would be bronze from time spent in the sun. Staying inside was not a choice. Besides, it was hotter inside since we did not have any form of air conditioning in the house until I was in junior high school and then only a window air conditioner in the living room.

I would not have traded this type of life for the world. My memories bring a smile to my face.

I shared a little about growing up in a small Iowa town last week in my post, “Small Town Life.”  At the end of that post, I indicated that I would be sharing more around that theme in the future.  So today, I decided that my post would give you a glimpse into an average summer day in my childhood.

Not every day was exactly the same but each of them carried some typical elements.  Each of them was filled with a lot of time outside, exploration, and adventure. My mother would encourage me to go outside.  I always thought it was because she wanted me to explore and enjoy the world around me but as I have grown a bit older, I think it was often because she wanted me out of her hair.  Either way, I was more than happy to oblige her.

So after I had awakened and dressed, I headed outside for a day of adventure.  One of the nice aspects of living in a small town is that you never seemed to worry about where you were headed or who you would encounter. There were certain signals which told you that you needed to check in at home but other than that you were given the whole town to explore. Only your age and energy put boundaries on the exploration.

After departing from the house, time was usually spent checking out the yard.  Maybe a little time on the swing which hung from the branch of the tall pine tree in our front yard.  Then out to the back corner where the weeping willow tree could become a hideaway as the long branches concealed a small boy when he got close to the trunk.  There was always some type of insect to discover on the ground and you could spend a large amount of time sitting in the shade of that tree without anyone being able to easily find you.  Of course the yard exploration could not be complete without inspecting the apple tree which actually was in the yard of the next door neighbors but right along your yard. Then head over to other side of the yard where the small abandoned shed with the discarded appliances was found.  During the right time of the summer, you could pick mulberries from the volunteer tree on the side of the shed. Then create a whole storyline of adventure in the shed playing with the unwanted stove.

Soon the fire whistle in town would sound.  This sound at this time of the day meant it was noon.  When this whistle blew, I knew it was time for me to stop my adventures from the morning and head into the house.  It would not be long before I would hear the engine of my dad’s work van. He was a self-employed electrician but knew that mother always expected him to arrive at noon for lunch.  I would go inside, wash my hands, and as soon as dad was in the house and settled in the kitchen table, mom would set out whatever she had planned for that day. Lunch was always a lighter meal and sometimes consisted of left-overs.  After eating lunch, dad would go lay down for his midday nap which lasted from the point he was done eating until 1:00 pm. Mom would clean up from lunch and I would head outside to begin my adventures for the afternoon unless I was planning on going to the town’s swimming pool.

If I did not head to the swimming pool, I might get on my bike and go visit a friend whose dad was the Lutheran pastor.  We spent many hours riding our bikes on the sidewalks of the church and the block surrounding it while we played cops and robbers.  Or the afternoon might consist of joining my friend who lived behind me as we headed across the large outfield of the school’s ball diamond to a clump of trees and overgrown plants.  In the center of this area we had built a fort which included space for us to sit on pieces of wood and dream up adventures. After sitting there a while, we might climb up on to the railroad tracks that ran alongside the area.  We would walk down the tracks to the train trestle bridge. If I was feeling extremely brave, I would walk from railroad tie to railroad tie of the bridge to get to the other side. Always looking down through the space between the ties and shaking a little because of how high we were above the creek.  Once on the other side we might decide to crawl down the hillside on the side opposite of the junk yard where a big and ferocious dog who no one had ever seen but had heard lived. This would take us to the small creek where we would spend time exploring, digging for craw fish and enjoying the cold water.

The afternoon adventures would continue until once again the town’s fire whistle would blow to indicate it was no 6:00 pm. The whistle had the same effect that the noon whistle did for every kid in the town.  It was time to go home because supper (I did not call the evening meal dinner until I went to college) was on the table. You were given a little grace period from when the whistle sounded until you were expected to be coming through the front door of the house.  If you went too long, then you probably were confined to the house the rest of the evening. If you made it inside by the reasonable amount of time after the whistle then you could return to the outside until the appointed time.

Evening adventures depended a little upon what portion of the summer we were in and when the sun went down.  These adventures might include time on the swing in the front yard again and seeing how high I could get the swing.  It also could mean heading to school to play with others on the playground equipment. As we came closer to fall, it usually always included time spent in one of the makeshift football fields we created either in the back part of the ball diamond’s outfield or the open lots that were near the school building.  My responsibility was usually to be the referee of such intense scrimmages. When the sun went down, it was expected that I headed home. If it was an extremely warm night, I may be given some time to run across the street to the ball diamond and see how many fireflies I could catch in the mayonnaise jar which Mom had put holes in the lid of with a nail.  If not, then often I was sent to the bathroom to take a bath and get cleaned up for bed.

Every day was a little different and had a variety of combinations of activities and adventures.  Although the consistent aspect of a day in the life of this small town boy was activity and adventure outside.  By the end of the summer, I would be bronze from time spent in the sun. Staying inside was not really an option.  Besides, it was hotter inside since we did not have any form of air conditioning until I was in junior high school and then it was just a window air conditioner in the living room.

I would not have traded this type of life for the world.  My memories bring a smile to my face.

Relationships Needed

In my last post, I wrote about realizing what matters in life. I have decided to expand on that theme in today’s post. If you remember, I pointed out that what matters are the lives which intersect with our own. Each of these intersections have a different level of depth to them. Some are more superficial and may become solely acquaintances or one-time encounters. Others become actual relationships.

As I consider the assorted places I have lived, the jobs which I have had, and organizations I have joined, I can name at least one relationship from each of these which I still maintain today. In each of these different groups, I actually have more than one continuing relationship. Relationships have always been important to me. I need to be connected to others and I spend a lot of time developing a variety of relationships. Each relationship carries with it memories, lessons, and lasting impacts.

Three basic factors for developing and maintaining a relationship exist. The first and probably most important, is communication. A person needs to be in regular communication with another if they are going to create and grow a relationship. When communication ends, then the relationship will be weakened and sooner or later will end as well. This communication needs to be more than superficial after the first weeks of the relationship. Going deeper in the communication highlights the second factor.

The second basic factor of a healthy relationship is being vulnerable. How vulnerable depends on the nature of the relationship and the length of time. Trust must be established for a vulnerability to exist. This trust builds over time but also builds when a person shares something meaningful and experiences a positive reaction by the other individual. As trust increases and the openness of sharing increases then the relationship will be stronger.

The third basic factor is making an effort. The first two components are connected to this third. Relationships do not magically happen. They require taking the time and work to establish and maintain them. I view relationships as being alive. As a plant or animal requires effort to grow and maintain, a relationship requires the same. If a plant or animal is neglected, it will die. The same is true with a relationship.

Having relationships can be exceedingly rewarding in a person’s life. We were created with the innate desire to be in relationship. I encourage all of you to develop and maintain healthy relationships in your lives so that you can be healthy and complete.

What Matters

In the recent weeks, I have had some close friends who have had major health issues. One friend had a stroke and is slowly recovering after weeks of therapy. Another one of my friends was found laying on the floor of her home and will probably not survive the week. I have also noticed the deaths of celebrities whom I grew up watching on television and in the movies. Today would have been when we celebrated my father’s birthday, but he died four years ago. All this has caused me to pause and consider what truly matters in life.

As I have paused to ponder this, I am acutely aware of something which my parents would often say and tried hard to show is not material aspects of life, nor the recognition which one might receive, that truly matters. What matters are the lives that intersect with your own which gives meaning and purpose to your life. While this is not something often communicated in media or through other voices, I think that is the only truth which stands the test of time.

All of us know that our possessions exist for a temporary time in our world. Some of them will outlast us but most of them will be long forgotten after a couple of years. My observation is that the one aspect of life that never fades and impacts generations after us is the way that we are changed by the lives of those we meet.

I am sure that most of you can come up with a list of individuals who were a part of the lives of your parents and led them to raise you in a certain way. Each of us could create another list of lives who have intersected with our own and influenced our thoughts, our attitudes, and the way we live. These individuals and their influence upon us and those who we raise and guide are what truly matter.

Small Town Life

All the formative years of life which I can remember were lived in a rural town in Iowa. My parents had returned to their hometown when I was barely over a year old. This would be my home until I graduated from high school. As much as I craved to leave this small town, I now realize how much of a benefit I received growing up there. The list of benefits is so long that I have decided to share over a period of posts what life was like growing up in a small town.

The first benefit which has become clear to me is the people who were in my life. You may have heard it said that when you are raised in a small town you have more parents than the adults who live in the same house as you. I can say that was true for me. Not one place in the town existed where some adult was unaware of what you were doing. The challenge of this reality is that the adults talked to one another. This meant that often my mother would know what I had been up to before I even made it back home. While this can be frustrating at times, it was a great joy when you needed help.

I recall a time when I was twelve years and was grateful that an adult was there to help me out. It happened to be the 25th wedding anniversary of my parents. I had accidentally left my camera at our lunch location and so rode my bicycle back to the place to retrieve my camera. Our house was located along the same street where the K-12 school building stood. The street was a wide street which was good since there often was one of the school buses parked along the street in front of the school. This was the case on this particular weekend. As I was riding my bicycle back home, I had my head down because I was thinking about the responsibilities which my sisters had given to me during the open house that afternoon. Generally, this would not be a problem since I knew the street so well and knew that drivers in my town would always drive around me if they happened to cross my path. After having thought through my responsibilities, I raised my head to realize that I was feet from the back end of a school bus. I could not stop in time and I hit the bus. The front tire of my 10-speed bicycle wedged between the bottom part of the school bus bumper and the street. Getting over the initial shock, I figured I would free my bicycle and complete my journey back home. I did not realize that when I hit the bus, my head must have hit the back door of the bus and I had two deep cuts on the top of my head. My body reacted to this trauma so that after freeing my bicycle from the bus bumper, I tipped over and could not move; I was in shock. Thinking that I was now paralyzed, I started screaming for help. A woman who lived across the street from the school heard my pleas for help and came running over. Since everyone knew each other in my small town, she knew who I was and how to contact my family. She helped me on to my feet and I then saw the pool of blood which had flowed from the two cuts. Slowly she walked me to her house and called my parents. Family members came down and at once took me to the hospital where I received many stitches before returning home and making a very brief stop at the open house to assure my mother that I was alright. The help of an adult to a child in need in our small town was greatly appreciated.

I could tell story after story about how people provided all forms of aid for me physically throughout my growing years. I could even tell stories about times when I wish people were not so willing to help my parents watch over me. But I want to share instead how living in this town with the others shaped who I am today. I am convinced that the people who surrounded me influenced some fundamental aspects of my personality. These aspects are both positive and negative. I learned how to watch out for other people. As I shared above, people were always willing to provide assistance to anyone who was in need. When a major fire harmed the downtown area of my town, including a business owned by my aunt, people came to help in any way they could; from the volunteer firefighters from our town and three other towns, to the people who came to help clean soot and ash from the items in the business.

I am a person who gets involved in my community and organizations in which I am a member. I believe that I learned this in our small town. Whether an event at the school or a special celebration for the town, volunteers were in plenty. It truly took everyone’s involvement to make something happen. The people whom I lived with showed me the importance of commitments, doing your part, and having pride in your efforts.

The people of my hometown showed me what it means to be connected. Today I always look for the ways in which I can, and am, connected with others. We all shared so much of our lives with one another that our commonalities were clear. Yes there were differences but these were a lot fewer than our similarities. When a person realizes this truth, then instead of having division you can celebrate the uniqueness of every person while at the same time celebrate what it means to be connected.

I am sure as I continue to share posts about growing up in my small town, you will see even more ways in which the people of my hometown shaped me. I want to thank those people who were a part of molding me into the person who I am today.

Keep watching for future posts about growing up in a small Iowa town and feel free to share your experiences.

On the Hunt

If you have been following my blog to this point, you know that a two months ago my husband and I relocated. The reason for our relocation was that my husband had accepted a new position at a different institution. (If you have not already read about that move, I encourage you to do so by reading the posts from last week.) Since I was not the one with the new job, this meant that I would be on the job hunt. A task which I dreaded more than the actual move. Anyone who has been in search for a job after reaching the age of 45 may relate to some of what I am going to share in this post.

When we were in conversation with individuals from my husband’s new place of employment, they indicated to me that the job market in this area was prime for employment seekers. Each one of them assured us that I would have no problems finding a job and I would probably even get to hand-pick the job. I was not as optimistic because I had been on the job hunt three years before and I knew what a difficult time I had during that search. Here are the main obstacles which I encountered:

  • My age – I am past the age of 50 and even though it is illegal to discriminate based on age, I am confident in stating that if an employer has to choose between a 25-year old and a 50-year old, the 25-year old has an advantage.
  • My employment background – I have had a variety of jobs since I graduated from college. I was in retail management for a national retailer. I worked for a national nonprofit organization as a division manager. I was a residence hall coordinator at a private liberal arts college. I am an ordained pastor. For the last 22 years, I have served in a ministry role. The last fact creates a limited scope of matches for most employers. My last position also included being communications coordinator but for a limited amount of time. As you can see, I have a wide range of experience and varied aspects of experience which is not immediately noticeable on a resume.

My husband and I agreed that I needed to find a position. My husband’s level of income would make it possible to meet all our financial obligations, but had plans for my income. We wanted to build up the amount of money which we would have available for the down payment on our new house. We also wanted to have some extra money to enjoy travel, cultural events and other experiences.

Before we made our move, I began searching for possible job openings. In this day of living in a digital world, almost all job searches begin online. You even apply online. The days of searching through newspapers and sending cover letters and resumes on fancy paper in the mail are gone. Employers use a variety of websites and most of them do a digital “weeding out” of individuals who do not fit certain criteria established by the employer.

I started applying before the move and then after the first week of settling into our new home, I increased my search. To date, I believe I am on five different job sites. I receive ten to twelve possible job emails a day per website, most of which are not even a close match to my skills. Like many aspects of the digital age, so much information is being sent my way that sorting through it all is overwhelming. In another post I will share my thoughts about how these sites work and frustrations which can go with them.

This brings us to where I am today.

The Trip

The morning after the movers left was planned to be the loading of our two cars. My husband is much better at packing vehicles than I am, so I delegated that responsibility to him. Besides all the items which the movers could not take and the items we needed until they arrived, there had to be room in the cars for a driver and one of our dogs. You can imagine what a challenge this was for my husband. We do not have small cars, we have four-door sedans, but there still was a lot to fit in each of them.

Our plan had been to begin our journey by 8:00 am or 9:00 am at the latest. Yet, it became clear that even though we had awakened early, our time frame was not going to be met. The packing of the cars was a challenge which required some unpacking and repacking. This all was taking place in rain and light snow which added to the challenge. There also was clear evidence that we had more left in the house than we were going to be able to fit in the vehicles.

One of our family members and our neighbor came to help us out again. They began going through the cleaning supplies and food we had planned on taking with us. Some of it was thrown in the garbage, some was to be taken home with our neighbor, and some would go home with my husband’s brother. We would have to replace what we needed once we got to our new home. While my husband packed the cars and the other two sorted through items we could not take, I began cleaning what we had to leave until the last minute.

Around 11:00 am, we were ready to pull out on our journey to our new home. We said our final good-byes and loaded the dogs into the cars. Each dog would get one foot well in the back seat of the car. We had put their beds in each car respectfully but our largest dog, a black Labrador mix, had no room if the bed was in there, so we moved that one to the trunk of the car. We would be on the road for close to twelve hours.

As we started our trip, the snow had started coming down. For the next four hours it would snow off and on as we made our way. We made it out of Iowa and had entered Missouri when we decided to make our first stop. This stop was mainly to let the dogs get out for a stretch, but we also used it as an opportunity for a restroom break and to get something to drink. The snow had stopped but a cold wind from the north made standing outside with the dogs unpleasant. After taking care of the needs of all four of us, we were back on the road.

Our trip consisted of driving on interstate almost the whole distance. We made stops for the dogs, to get gas and/or to grab some food. We made it through Kansas City without much hassle. Our journey down Kansas’ tollway was uneventful. There was just one time we had an issue convincing our oldest dog to get back into the vehicle. He seemed done with traveling and having bad back hips did not want to climb back in the car. Eleven hours later, we were coming into the metroplex which would be our new home.

After traveling almost 900 miles and going through five states, we arrived safely but weary at our new home. We pulled the cars into the garage, only to realize it was a tight fit. We let the dogs out and into the house so they could explore a little. Next the dogs went outside into the fenced-in back yard to take care of needs and get the layout of their new yard. While they were outside, we started to unpack the necessary items from the cars.

Once the dogs and the needed items were in the house, we put air in the mattress, added the bedding and laid down for our first night of sleep in our new sparsely furnished home.

Moving Day

The day was Thursday, December 27 which meant that moving day had arrived. That phrase carries with it both joy and fear. The joy comes from the reality that we were embarking upon a new adventure. We would have a new home, in a new city, and new opportunities. The fear results from the realization that we were clearly not ready for the movers to arrive. There were rooms which still had a lot of unpacked items. Some drawers and cupboards had been overlooked. How would we ever manage to make this happen?

Much to our great fortune, some of our family came over to help us. They had been there the day before and helped with a lot of the items. Now they returned and made some of those decisions about what to keep and what to get rid of that neither of us wanted to make. The movers arrived and were even a bit early. The house became busy with activity while we tried to corral our two dogs in one room and out of the way of the movers. Everyone continued packing as furniture, boxes, and totes were being labeled and taken out to the truck. On top of this, it had decided to rain a little.

The next seven hours were filled with activity. Every time we thought we were making head way, one of the movers would come and ask us what to do about something they had found. Numerous trips to get more boxes, take some unneeded boxes back, and pick up more packing tape also filled our time. Getting out of the house to run an errand was actually a blessing. There were times that I ended up questioning if I wanted to return to the house or not.

Now, the movers had the truck loaded. My husband spent fifteen minutes signing the paperwork indicating what all had been loaded in the truck. There is something strange about realizing that all your worldly possessions are in the hands of a man and a truck. You will not see them again until whenever the truck arrives in your new location. A little fear enters your mind about if the man and the truck will actually arrive or not.

Even though the movers had left, we were far from being finished for the day. There was still more than enough to finish packing. Certain items a moving company cannot take in the truck. Included among those items are houseplants, alcohol, chemicals, valuables, and perishables. We also knew that it would be at least three days before the truck would arrive and a new crew would unload us. This meant that we had to take enough clothing, bedding, and other necessities for us to live in an empty house until the truck arrived. We also had to begin the cleaning process. For the next five hours, we packed and cleaned.

Around 11:00 pm, we decided that we had to get some sleep. My husband filled the air mattress with air, and we put the sheets we had held out on the mattress. We finally laid down, sore and tired since we only had four hours of sleep the previous night. This would be our final night in this house.