My World With Words

When I was a freshman in high school, my English teacher, Mr. Meredith, asked us how many planned to go to college. I raised my hand. There was no doubt I was going to attend–and graduate from–an institution of higher learning. What I didn’t realize was what a challenge this would be. Not academically, but logistically.

I struggled with knowing what I wanted to do with my life. As a senior in high school, I was told by a guidance counselor to pursue a career in teaching. Since the thought of controlling a classroom of 30 kids or more terrified me, I discounted his suggestion. I did, however, take a good hard look at the college he recommended. It had a journalism program specializing in magazine writing. That sounded fantastic.

My parents agreed it looked like a good choice, and we visited the campus. I fell in love with it. I applied, was accepted, and plans were made for me to go. What I didn’t count on was my parent’s divorce. By the time it came to graduate high school, they told me their finances were tied up in the divorce proceedings and they couldn’t afford the college of my choice. Get a job, they said, and attend community college.

So I did just that. I excelled in the local community college, and was fortunate that a few of my friends from high school also attended there. But after a year, my parents told me they could afford to send me to college, as long as my choice of school was less expensive than the one I had originally wanted to go to.

I found a school that met that requirement, but what I didn’t realize was it wasn’t accredited. It also was a very religious school, and while my beliefs coincided with much of what they were teaching, I had my differences. However, the structure of a strict school was what I needed after a very hang-loose approach to parenting by my mom and dad, and I stayed for three years.

Eventually, however, that school and the beliefs I was expected to abide by became oppressive. I left a semester before I graduated, fully intending to return to college when I was able to find the right school.

Three years later, I found it. I discovered that since my second college hadn’t been accredited, I’d have to take many courses over again. Some requirements were waived, but I still had to make up the credits.

But it turned out this was the right college, rather, university. They changed from being a college to an university sometime in my senior year. While some students bemoaned the change, I welcomed it. An accredited university suited me just fine.

Plus, they had an outstanding school of journalism, with lots of opportunities for internships. I took full advantage of that feature, with no less than five internships by the time I graduated. I should mention here that it was funds from my stepdad’s death that allowed me to attend school full-time, and it took me a long time to pay back my mom. A very long time. But at least it wasn’t student loans.

I graduated mid-year, and there was a blizzard the day of my graduation. Yet somehow family and friends made it out there to see me get my diploma, I was almost 31, and to this day, it marks one of the happiest days of my life.

It took me nearly thirteen years to graduate from college, but I don’t regret it one bit. I ended up with a good education, and that’s opened up worlds for me.

Image Credits: Internship © gustavofrazao–stock-adobe.com; Worlds © Photo and Art Panda–stock.adobe.com; Dollar Sign © berkut_34–stock.adobe.com

(Note: I’m doing the Bloganuary challenge–today’s prompt relates to “playtime.)

In my 20s and 30s singles bars were very popular. Maybe they still are in places, although my young friends say, well, not really. I dreaded going when my friends insisted that’s how we spend our Saturday night. Sports bars I could handle. The pressure was off–it was more like a dining experience with friends then an opportunity to meet someone of the opposite sex.

Parties? I could handle parties when they were small and I knew at least some of the guests. But I’ve never been the extroverted type who could go and meet a ton of new people at a party. Yes, I could talk to strangers, but I couldn’t get comfortable if all the partygoers were foreign to me.

So playtime for me has always been quieter pursuits. Today (among other things), it’s my writing, which is mostly solitary (I do belong to a writer’s group, and that’s social as well as practical). I play Scrabble with some friends a couple of times a month. As for movies–I don’t really enjoy theaters anymore, but I love it when friends invite me over to watch something we’ve all wanted to see.

Today I was reminded of an old friend who is a fierce Michigan football fan. We used to go to a local sports bar when we both lived in Nashville to watch their games. I’d love to watch the championship game with her next week, but she lives hundreds of miles from me. Now that would be playtime.

Image Credits: Header © Joshua Resnick–stock.adobe.com; Football © Sergey Nivens–stock.adobe.com

I try to keep my apartment tidy, but there’s always at least one room that’s a mess. That’s mostly due to a lack of space, or too much stuff, however you want to look at it. I’ve written about my efforts to clear out the clutter before. It’s a challenge.

I’m not sure where this propensity to have gathered a lot of stuff came from. My mom and dad kept things to a bare minimum, perhaps because we moved so often and they didn’t want to pay to move stuff they didn’t need. Our house was always neat (well, except for us kids’ rooms). No need to be embarrassed to have company over.

Not that I have a lot of opportunity for company. My social life is somewhat stagnant. I have my friends, some of whom I play Scrabble with a couple of times a month, some in my writer’s group, and some at church, but I don’t get out a lot. It’s hard when you’re single to get motivated to go to the latest museum exhibit–alone. Or any number of other things.

So I’m becoming one of those old ladies who spends a lot of time with her cats. I fear for the day when I can’t afford to have pets or don’t have a car to take them to the vet. Life without them would seem pretty empty.

But maybe that won’t happen. Who knows? I’ll be honest, I enjoy the solitary times. Well, with my cats.

I can only live for today. Plan for the future, yes, but with the understanding that man plans, God laughs (I don’t really believe God laughs, but it’s a good saying). And today I’m going to clear out one box of clutter.

Image Credits: Lady and Cat © IQ-Photography–stock.adobe.com; Header © Vladimir Polikarpov–stock.adobe.com

Wishing you and yours a safe New Year’s Eve and a peaceful, productive 2024!

Image credit: © pvl0707–stock.adobe.com

Harvey was one cat who lived out his nine lives. Today I read on Facebook that it’s time to say good-bye.

In the immediate aftermath of the 2011 Joplin tornado, which killed 158 people, the vet at my local cat clinic drove the one hour north to the disaster site to care for wounded animals. What she saw shocked her. Although I never heard her describe it, I could only imagine, especially when I was told most of those she rescued would be unidentifiable to their owners. She brought back as many as she could for adoption, and Harvey was one of those.

Harvey had multiple injuries and it was a long road to recovery. While a good home was available to him, ultimately the vet decided it was best to keep him as one of the clinic cats. There this sweet boy led a happy and loved life.

This is the same vet who’s cared for all my cats, from Paco and Montero to Walter and Mimi, and shown sympathy and compassion to both cats and cat parents. She is a remarkable woman.

I know many of you have pets whom you entrust to your vets on a regular basis, and you value that relationship. I’ve heard a couple of stories in the past week of holiday mishaps–or perhaps mishaps that culminated in a visit on the holiday–and I’ve decided to declare January “Love Your Vet” month, at least in my household. I could find World Veterinary Day (April 27, 2024), but no month of love.

If you have cats, dogs, rabbits, or other pets, big or small, I hope you have a vet you love. Your pets thank both of you.

Image Credits: Header (kitten and pup) © Jixster–stock.adobe.com Cartoon cats © Nidhi–stock.adobe.com