I'm going to be a grant writer!

What's up, my friends? Happy October 2021. This is when time speeds up, it gets dark way too early, and we go from Halloween to Thanksgiving to Christmas in the blink of an eye.

What's on your agenda for this final quarter of 2021? It was crazy last year and just a little less crazy this year. 

I'm taking my own advice that I share with my Melders group on Facebook and embarking on a new project. Grantwriting! It only makes sense. My degree is in Arts Administration. I took two years of grant-writing and fundraising classes. I didn't even consider it as a career. However, as the world turns, and many businesses are going online or virtual, it seems to me that this career is right up my alley. 

It can be a lucrative freelance gig. I have worked in a variety of non-profit organizations at every level. I've worked for small nonprofits, like Women of Diversity, or big nonprofits, like the Utah Shakespeare Festival. I've done everything from volunteer to Executive Assistant. And there's more to it than just writing and winning grants. I believe that whatever I do will ultimately have a meaningful impact somewhere! So here I go. 

Please feel free to follow my adventures here as I discover what it's all about (Alfie... age-related reference). And I'll try to post a little more often. 

Next up, Halloween!!

Babe and Frank's

Across the street from my elementary school sat Babe and Frank’s. The Soda Shoppe was typical for the time. Glass front. Green screen door. The screen is pushed in from years of slamming and banging wear and tear. The oak door is swung back against the wall and out of sight not to be closed until the end of the day. A ratty runner that might once have also been green is in a narrow strip down the center of the aisle. A glass case, on the right, framed in steel on top of which sits the cash register is just inside the door. On the left, a jukebox and three or four booths along the wall. At the back, in the center, the runner ends just this side of a dark corridor that probably leads to storage and the back door. Opposite the booths were two or three pinball machines and the rest of that side was all counter seating. There was a space between the end of the counter and the glass case to pass through.

The year was 1966. I was in the sixth grade.

The usual was a cheeseburger and fries, and a Strawberry Ice Cream Soda with Butter Pecan Ice Cream. Fritos to take home, unless it was the beginning of the school year. Because school started in late Fall, we’d often stop at the Fruit and Vegetable shop in the middle of the next block to reach into a freezing cold barrel of brine for a dill pickle or pick a giant pomegranate from the stack to eat as we walked home.

Frank has fried a mound of steak ‘Philly’ style. Deftly chopped with two spatulas, and oil shot out of clear mustard squeeze bottle made for squirting condiments on food. Steam rises from the grill. Babe is wiping tears from her eyes as she chops the last of the white onions to be grilled right next to the steak for a tasty addition.

Babe, in her starch white waitress’s uniform with dyed jet-black hair on her head, in a slightly whipped sprayed stiff up-do that in the heat of the restaurant would never last in any other particularly formal hairstyle. She is short, slim, and at least 40 years old – in my eyes.

Wearing lots of makeup, but, thankfully, no blue eyeshadow. Her eyelids darkened on the top and the bottom with black eyeliner and fake eyelashes set perfectly upon each eyelid. Her eyebrows were drawn perfectly where they should be as she tweezed them all but close to the center which she used as a reference point.

She wore too red lipstick that she refreshed whenever she got a moment between taking orders and running the cash register. Her pancake base makeup was just a smidgen too dark so where it ended under her chin was a faint line before her neck began. She wore simple gold earrings like brass buttons in her ears. Her mezuzah, a subtle symbol of Judaism that she wore on a thin, gold chain around her neck, was her only other adornment. The mezuzah was real gold. You could tell. She wore support hose and black flats.

She would call out hot food orders to Frank from the register, and then she would make the hoagies. She would chop onions, shred lettuce, chop tomatoes and refill the pickles. There’s nothing like an authentic Philadelphia Hoagie. It’s not just the lunchmeat and the variety of condiments including oil and vinegar and Italian seasoning on the top. It’s also the BREAD.

Rosie was the other waitress at Babes and Franks. She wore a little waitress cap and her hair was always in a neatly coifed flip. Her cap sat in the center at the back of her head pinned carefully so as not to move. It looked more like a nurse’s cap but I think they might have ALL been nurse’s caps at the time. Rosie was, as they called it then, stacked. Dramatic breasts and hips and a small waist. She was easily 5’9” tall. Her uniform fit her like a glove, just tight enough to compliment her shape, but without fear of a rip or a split. And just sexy enough to make the teenage boys hormones rage.

In contrast to Babe, her makeup was perfectly appointed. Not too much eye makeup. No tell-tale line between where her foundation ended and her neck began. Only a hit of blush and fresh bronze lips. She wore no jewelry, smacked gum like a teenager, wisecracked with the boys and was incredibly sympathetic to the girls. After all, everybody had hormones!

So Babe worked the counter and the register and made cold food. Rosie waited tables, and Frank grilled. On any given day, at about 12:15, there were easily 50 people in a space meant to hold 25, 30 (if we sat on laps.) We all got served, we all got to eat, and rarely was anyone late from lunch to return to school across the street.

 

Let Me Live

 Not my normal. I had to say something. Enough is Enough.

We. Are. Tired.

How come the Police only ‘accidentally’ shoot Black people? How come they don’t ‘accidentally’ shoot White people? Or any of the other Ethnics in this country? How come only Black people are met with ‘deadly force’? How come they only pull guns out on Black people? Why is everything a gun except a gun?

And they don’t even RECOGNIZE a gun when they SEE one or DON’T see one?

This is madness. Did we learn nothing in lockdown? White men are out again killing crowds of people and they are rarely met with deadly force? What’s up with THAT?

What about Colorado?

What about Georgia?

What about Florida?

These guys are still ALIVE.

I can’t…

I need to run some errands this morning. To ensure I arrive alive, I won't take public transit (Oscar Grant). I removed all air fresheners from the vehicle and double-checked my registration status (Daunte Wright), and ensured my license plates were visible (Lt. Caron Nazario). I will be careful to follow all traffic rules (Philando Castille), signal every turn (Sandra Bland), keep the radio volume low (Jordan Davis), and won't stop at a fast food chain for a meal (Rayshard Brooks). I'm too afraid to pray (Rev. Clementa C. Pickney) so I just hope the car won't break down (Corey Jones).

When you run errands today, be sure not to dance (Elijah McClain), stop to play in a park (Tamir Rice), patronize the local convenience store for snacks (Trayvon Martin), or walk around the neighborhood (Mike Brown). Once home, don’t stand in your backyard (Stephon Clark), eat ice cream on the couch (Botham Jean), or play any video games (Atatiana Jefferson).

I guess I’ll watch a movie around 7:30pm, I won’t leave the house to go to Walmart (John Crawford) or to the gym (Tshyrand Oates) or on a jog (Ahmaud Arbery). I won't even walk to see the birds (Christian Cooper). I’ll just sit and remember what a blessing it is to breathe (George Floyd) and I definitely won’t go to sleep (Breonna Taylor).

 Let. Me. Live.

 

What have we done that makes us your one and only target?

East Bay, Take 2

Well, the summer flew by and my feet sort of reached a plateau and stayed there. In October, we went to Washington State to visit Kenneth's friends Scott and Stacey Burrell. Scott is a carpenter. They bought a house on 5 acres of land. They lived in a mobile home on the property while Scott revamped the house and Stacey worked at the local hospital. They moved into the house and rented the trailer. Stacey's parents came to stay with them on the property, and Scott is building them a house as well! He's good.

We went almost to the northernmost tip of the United States to Ruby Beach. It was beautiful. I was happy and in my element. I don't think I could live there (no Black people) but I could certainly visit more often!

Stacey recommended that I try a drug called 'Lyrica' for my feet. Many of her patients got relief from it, she said. I said I would check it out.

Came home and asked my internist. She said to try it. She wrote me a script for 30 tablets. I read about it online. It said it was possibly 'addictive.' I didn't think I wanted to have anything to do with an 'addictive' drug, but decided that if my feet were having an 'impossible' day, I would check it out. Well, that day came. I popped one of the pills and MIRACULOUSLY my feet felt PERFECT. I mean, there was no pain, no stinging, NOTHING. I was amazed. However, it lasted less than an hour. My feet started to sting, slowly at first, but truly, it was within an hour. I got why it's addictive. To have my feet feel absolutely normal again? I'd take this drug day and night...so I threw them away.

Sad, but true. A little while later, I was introduced to a cream. Real-Time Pain Relief Cream. I thought it was another snake oil sale, until I got the samples! Love this stuff. It doesn't make the sensation go away completely, but it tones it down enough for me to walk 5-10K steps a day! And I do!

Relief is on the way, I decided. It's been over a year. February has come and almost gone...I was in the hospital then! Happy that my body is functioning at close to 100%, that is, everything is working now!

My friend Bev Saunders gave me a call. She is selling stuff again. Thought I'd be interested. It's MLM and everyone knows MLM is a scam...LOL! She sent me to watch a video about these DNA drops. I was mildly interested and she offered to send me samples. Never one to turn down anything free, I said 'Sure.' And I'm glad I did. This product, the one called 'SLD' is anti-inflammatory. What a difference. I only took it for 3 days and my feet felt so different - like they were coming back to life! I immediately signed up (I don't have to sell, just buy) and ordered a bunch for myself. Then I sent the video to my Vitamin K (I'll tell you about him another time) and he wants to try them. I just randomly asked my friend who called me from the DMV (Delaware-Maryland-Virginia) area if she'd like to watch the video and try them. She, too, said yes. Uh-oh. This MLM thing is getting serious...LOL!

Which brings me to why I am writing this blog this day, because I have more proof that the Universe works and that's what this blog is about. Don't take my word for it, read on.

Earlier last week I was thinking about getting some lighter compression socks - I have 20-30mmHg (it's a blood pressure measurement) and I was wanting some 15-20mmHg. I decided I would check them out when I got home because I was just gearing up to go to California.

Originally, I would have gone to California in January, my usual jaunt for MLK weekend, but my cousin said not to come if I was going to fly in an airplane, I could visit if I drove. Well, I didn't plan to drive so I cancelled. No cousins, no Jacque, no Denise. Nobody. Nothing. 

February came along and I was just feeling out of sorts. Couldn't put my finger on it. Realized I was missing my trip to Northern Cal. Another good friend of mine posted that her patio was ready for company and I posted 'Don't tempt me' as a reply. Then she said that she had a room...and the next thing I sent her was my itinerary.

So this wasn't my ordinary trip, but I was still going to the East Bay, I would still visit Northern Cal. I would still see the water and ride the BART train - SOLD!

I was also thinking that if we did it like last time, I would take the BART train from the airport, she would pick me up in El Cerrito and we could do a 'drive-by' of my cousins house, with them waving from their picture window. Before I had a chance to suggest this, however, she said that I could just take the AMTRAK train from the airport that stopped 10 minutes from her house. Sigh. Oh well, I thought, I still get to see her, her new house, her family, her new friend. It was still going to be worth the trip!

She texts me the night before to tell me that she has an appointment at 1PM, and my plane was due to arrive at 10:30AM. What time was my train arriving at the station? I explained to her that the trains don't run very often and the closest timed one arrived at 2:20PM. She said that was OUTRAGEOUS and for me to just take the BART train to El Cerrito and she would pick me up.

I asked her if she would be willing to drive by my cousin’s house and she said 'Sure!' Wow, that turned out better than I imagined. When we drove by, my cousin came down the steps, masked and said that she was getting her second Covid shot on Saturday and if I had some time, could I come back and visit? I told her I'd let her know.

Turns out, my friend had a job interview on line on Monday and if we found a train, I could ride the AMTRAK to Richmond, where my cousin could pick me up, and I could visit with her and take the train from there to the airport! PERFECT.

It gets better...I call my friend in Oakland and ask her if she's available for lunch on Monday, Yes, she says. We'll meet at BART in Oakland! So I go to my cousins, hang out for a couple hours, just as we were leaving for the BART train, she says, 'Oh, I have these compression socks that I bought that he's not going to wear - I'm sure they'll fit you...' She runs upstairs, brings them back, they are all black, 6 pairs, and they are 15-20mmHg! None of which would have happened if she hadn't had her second shot, I hadn't had the opportunity to visit, and I got to hug and kiss my cousin in the flesh!

Finally, I get to Oakland, we go to lunch in Jack London Square. After a while my friend says that it's probably time for me to be getting to the airport, I thought she was taking me to BART - she brought me to the door of Southwest Airlines!

THAT is just another example, of the many documented here, of how the Universe works.

Thanks for reading to the end.