"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

“I am the same age as you are.  Are you ready to go into a senior citizen home?  You have a trust fund Cecilia. Are you telling me that you will not help me financially to save the house?  The house is all I got.  What part of I have no education and bad credit are you not hearing?  Where am I going to live?  I have to save the house just to survive in the coming years.”

I can hear the hysteria in my voice, as I spread my hands and arms away from my body, with furrow brow. I might add.  Cecilia didn’t react.  Silence betwen us. My face is hot and my ears are pounding as my blood pressure rises.

With a deep breath. Gently I say, “You know I will pay you back after the house sells.”

“It is causing you so much stress Jillie just dump it and move on with your life.” She said boorishly.

I raise my head in disbelief. ”Cecilia is this your way of saying your not going to help me?”  Great.  Just great. Talking to her was like spitting in the ocean.  My words meant nothing to her, as I guess our friendship, didn’t either. I know if it was reversed I would help my friend in need and talk not just brush me off.

“It is what it is.” She said looking down at her tea and dunking and redunking her tea bag over and over until I stopped her.  I leaned back in my sit and shook my head.  “So, now I understand when I told you Nick had left. And I don’t even know, if you know that you smiled, when I said the attorney is leaving.  Who smiles at someone’s pain?

“I never realized before Cecilia how jealous you were of me?  But I do now.  I also know that you are a Fairweather friend.”

She refused to look at me.

My anger was spreading like cheat grass.

Cecilia was cheapter than table salt.

I forced myself to calm down.  I will put my latest worries, the latest fires, the latest threats, and scares into my Worrry Box.

The first thought that came into my head after I hung up with the Attorney was my long time friend Cecilia.  I texted her and asked if she would  meet me for coffee.

I had not seen Cecilia since that fateful day where I threw up our lunch in the car.  It took me months to call her and even then,  I couldn’t stop crying.  Cecilia is a Trust Fund Baby.  Surely, she would have some dollars to spare to help and old friend, right?  I mean we have been buddies since Junior High School.  I just need enough money to keep my attorney  and get their deed of trust off the house.

Cecilia sat at a small round table with two chairs when I approached her, she shouted. “Hey look who’s back!” Her tone and smile gave me a small eagerness that all would be right.  It’s ok hun” she said  as she patted my hand.  You do look like hell though.” Cecilia was in her Zumba class outfit green nd yellow dye-tied looking tights and a zipped black jacket.  Her bright red hair tied up in a topknot.

“I hope I didn’t take you from class.”  “Oh, no I have to leave soon though.”  “I see you got tea aready I’ll get something in a minute.” I said. ‘I’m so embarrassed but I need to talk to you.  The Attorney has put a lein on the property and is leaving me for lack of payment.”

A smile formed on Cecilia lips.  I almost thing she didn’t even realize it.  I kept talking and ignore it. “The attorney is leaving me for lack of payment.  I feel defeated, alone, and scared out of my wits.  And to top it off I can’t stop crying I’m beginning to feel lost.  Lost and that I will lose everything including my home, money and my dignity.  Trial is only 4 months away.  I’m broke.  I can’t get another attorney and if i go to trial…

Cecilia interrupted.  “Just get rid of the house.”  “You mean foreclosure”. I said. “Yes. Everybody is doing it , so what.”  I leaned in close.  ”So what? You do recall that I have no education and now I also have very bad credit. Where am I going to go live. I hastened to say.

‘Oh, please there are plenty of senior citzen homes. She cackled, too heartily.

In November, I was awarded by the Court my House.

The first thing the Attorney said was, ”Why do you want it?”

I told her because it is two acres of land and the recession will be over one of these days.

“Well, you realize you have sole responsibility for the Mortgage, Taxes, Utilities, etc.  so in lieu of you getting the house you will receive no Alimony.”

And then she left another bombshell in December.

“Because you are behind in paying your Attorney fees, we are going to bring an end to your case.  We are also putting a Deed of Trust on your property.”

“What?”  I said on the phone to her.  “And in case you don’t know what that is, we basically own your house until you pay us.”

“Now?”  Are you leaving me this month?

“Yes, we are pulling out this month.”

“But….but you can’t.  I have no one to defend me if we end up in Trial this coming March.”

“Not our problem.  We will send you a formal letter of withdrawal.” She hung up.

I had already realized in these last nine months that Court is a he-says, she- says, and no one is going to win.

Judges and Police don’t know you from Adam.

 

Mrs. Mortimer then told us our first assignment.  “Teach the class something you know.  The students (your peers) will individually Grade your overall achievement.”

The only thing I could think of was making carrot juice with my Juicer.  I dragged my Juicer to school. It was heavy and awkard. And the acoustics engineered for high quality made it a nitemare. And since we were in a huge auditorium with rows of seating I knew immeadiatly I brought a wrong thing to bring to school.

It was so LOUD in the auditorium .  No one could hear me.  The screaming juicer  got every one laughing.

Once the Juicer of carrot juice was full a student voluntered to help me pass the juice around to my classmates.  The reviews: Where half the class laughing.  Another half passing around the juice.  And others were saying the juice was good.  But everyone agreed it was too LOUD to hear you.  Others said it was a “Good Presentation.”

However, there were two student presentation’s that I will never forget.

One was an Old Hippie.  She brought down the screen on the stage.  She told us that she was a Ghost Hunter.  Her slides were dark and scary.  Her audio of her encounters with Ghosts made us all feel “Someone is walking over my grave”

The other was a quiet woman probably in her 40’s who came up onto the stage with nothing.

She was the last speaker of the day.  She started to talk about Parrots.

Suddenly she stops talking and starts to open her closed jacket.  And inside on her shoulder was her Parrot!!  It had sat on her shoulder inside her jacket during all the presentations.

She said the Parrot was ill.  She had been pulling out it’s feathers.  She explained why and the Parrot never spoke and did not leave her shoulder.  She got massive applause from all the other students!!   I was enjoying school and reqretted so much that I had never attended before.

When I was young and lived with my parents my mother used to tell me I was just a renter.  My father used to tell me women just get married so why waste and education on a housewife.

Was that their thinking or societies in the 1960’s.

INTRO TO PUBLIC SPEAKING-COLLEGE STRATEGIES-ELEMENT OF ARITHMETIC

The Art of Public Speaking

The Speech class held in a large theatre stadium with a full-size stage at the front.  I entered to see sitting students spread out among the comfortable theater chairs.  Barely looking over the top of the microphone on stage our teacher introduced herself as Mrs. Mortimore.  She read from the Curriculum (with an actress’ voice) that was handed to us as we entered the room.

When asked a question she would put her palms together with fingers of both hands spread and fingertips touching,  stare at you with purse lips untill finally she would answer.

In Speech there were so many students that Mrs. Mortimor divided us up into groups.  Our first day we formed a circle on stage as we all held hands—one by one introducing ourselves with just our first name that we were to shout out!  Then back to are seats to hear her lecture.

“Trust is established through congruence-that perfect alignment between what is being said and the body language that accompanies it.  If a speaker’s gestures are not in full agreement with the spoken words, the audience consciously or subconsciously perceives duplicity, uncertainty, or (at the very least) internal conflict.”

Later we sat back in our circle on the stage.  We were to tell a small story about ourselves.  I told the story of my crazy dog – a Jack Russel Terrier who loved to run.  We called him Biscuit who liked to trek through our field.  One day the Dog Catcher showed up.  We were outside the house and watched as the Dog Catcher  chased and yelled and ole Biscuit started barking and running faster.

Finally, the out of breath dog catcher hollered up to us at the house.  ”Do you own this dog?”  We said, “No.”  Everyone laughed and it felt good.  The last thing I wanted to talk about was the fact my life was falling apart.”

Mrs. Mortimor then told us our first assignment.   Teach the class something you know.

 

INTRO TO PUBLIC SPEAKING-COLLEGE STRATEGIES-ELEMENTS OF ARITHMETIC

My first day of Math class I arrived to see all the students lined up against the wall.   “What’s happening?” I asked a student.   She looked like she still belonged in Junior High in her pink shorts, pink tank top and pink flip flops.  Except that both her ear lobes stretched and adorned with silver tunnels that let me see right through her ear.

“The door to the classroom is locked.”  She said and popped her gum.  I nodded. Thanks, and just tried to glance away from her ears.

Being a Community college, everyone was different ages.  That was comforting I guess, except for the fact I hated being so close to 60 and feeling like I had lost my grip on my life.  I waited for the teacher, with everyone else leaning against the wall.

When she approached, I thought she was just another pretty student.  She looked like a ballet dancer walking towards us with such light quick steps.  Her dark hair and smooth complexion, beauty and brains I thought. Later she told the class she was from India.

The room had round tables with 4 chairs. Everyone just found a seat an sat down. The teacher told us to introduce ourselves to each other and to call her Ms. Helena. It wasn’t long before my favorite co-student at the table was Marcus, he was funny and as bad at Math as me.

Our Teacher Ms. Helena was delightful.  All enthusiasm about Math.  As school progressed it was apparent to the teacher that I needed the bare basic:

Multiplication and Fractions.

 

Oh gawd, this was going to be Hell.  School and I have never had a good history.  But me and math had even a worst relationship.  It’s funny because as an adult I escaped anything that had to do with math.  I don’t know how many people, knew how frozen  I would become trying to figure out math.

One slight problem I could not start cooking in the kitchen until  I passed Math! and Speech by the end of the quarter.  Great.  More pressure.  That is all I needed.

Except for one thing the Financial aid money that will let me survive the rest of this year.

Oh boy.  When I was 16 in 1969 my mother had made all my clothes –typical of the day.  I wanted her to stop and she said if I wanted store bought clothes then get a job.  So, I did at K-mart.

I worked inside a long circular enclosed area that held fancy candy.  I was a chocoholic, so i did find a few that were running loose and I had to knock them over and eat them.  I had only been there three months and was called into the upstairs office.

They told me.  I was Fired.  Why?  I kinda knew it had to be few fancy chocolates missing.  But NO, that wasn’t it at all.  They said I had been stealing money.

Of course I had not stolen any money, but what I didn’t tell them was that I did not know how to count change!

Huge embarrassment at 16.

The beginning in my life full of embarrassment.

 

“Brian, it is . . .hard for me to talk to a total stranger like you, about me.  I have always been a private person. I already have been so exposed with NO privacy to Attorneys and a Judge and even Police.

“I assisted my husband by calling on the phone to solicit for new business.”  He was self-employed.

Brian sat still for a minute and then he leaned forward and started to rattle off a bunch of Classes.  I stopped him at Culinary, which would earn me an AA degree.  School at age 57?  Me an AA degree?  Wow. That would actually be awesome.  Giving Brian a nod.

Brian’s eyebrows formed a V and then his big smile raised them up.  ”I can see it now.  (Gesturing with his palms up) You are a Chef and working maybe in beautiful hotels or working on a Cruise Ship.  Or better yet a cooking show?

His comment energized me more than anything else had in months!

“Well, school will give you a new life.  It also will provide you computer skills and develop resume writing, interviewing, and job search skills.  I promise Jillie you will become self-sufficient.  However you will have to work at it just like everything else in life.  But first you have some prerequisite.  Will have to take a test to see what level your skills are at.”

‘Test’s,” I said grimacing.

Later that week I found out the results of my test!  I had three classes: Student strategy, Speech and the worst one. . .MATH.  Math?  I still had to count on all my fingers and toes. Oh no.  Oh no.

I also did not have multiplication memorized as well and to tell you the truth.

I never learned how to count change.

 

You have dreams of cooking, but there is no one to cook for.  You have dreams of entertaining and buying those new sets of dishes, but there is no one to eat off them.  My old world (5 months ago) was made up of high-energy, high-maintenance fun given to others.  Going through a divorce has crippled and paralyzed me so deep and for so long.

The fears come.  The fears of not being hired, not fitting in, walking the streets with all my belongings inside a shopping cart…not being alive enough because you have been dead for so long.

“I’m a mess Brian, right now.” I sucked in air and let it out again slowly.  “I guess the term Displaced Homemaker fits me.  I hate the word displaced.  I don’t know how, when suddenly I came face to face with my entire life gone.

I am 57 years old and my husband had three degrees and three designations.  The only reason I am here is because the Judge told me too.  Because I only have a high school education.  The Judge also said that you could help me financially.”

“Yes. Yes.” Brian said, he had listened to me in silence.  “We can get some grants and financial aid. “Did you read the summer schedule that starts in August? “To be honest Brian I couldn’t think straight enough or keep the tears out of my eyes long enough to read the summer schedule.”

Brian thinks for a minute and then says, “Let’s look at this as just one day at a time.  You only have tomorrow to face.  Jillie think of coming to us is like a “Fill-in-the-blank Dream” you can pick anything that is on our class schedule.

I laughed.  I like Brian.

I realize you have been a housewife, but did you do any work outside of the house?”

 

On the Judge’s order I had been waiting in the office of the local technical  college school counselor, Brian Thomas, for about 15 minutes.  Enough time to read his degrees on the wall.

The door has opened and Thomas headed straight for his desk.  He had a water bottle in one hand and paper in the other and shut the door with his foot.  Smiling with bushy eyebrows that raised up and lowered with his smile.  He at once apologized for being late.  “Jillie is it?”

“Yes.”  “Well, that is unusual.” He gave me a hmmm-what-do-we-have here head tilt.  “Well, actually it is Jill but it is a nickname cause I could’nt say it when I was little.  “Oh, so you have a lot of family here,” said Brian.

I always hate this question.  It is uncomfortable for everyone when I say, No.

“Actually, I have no close family left just my adult Daughter.”  ‘Oh, Geeze I’m sorry.” Brian’s head went down and he shuffled through some paper on his desk. “Let me look at your application here.”

“Oh, well I see that you should start in the … he squinted his eyes at the paper…Displaced Homemaker Program.”

“What?”  I questioned.  He continued. “Yes, the Displaced Homemaker Program.  It is for a displaced homemaker.  Someone who, after serving as an unpaid Homemaker for many years is forced to join the paid workforce due to a Separation, Divorce, Disability or Death of a Spouse or Significant other.

I hung my head, as a tear rolled down my face.  “Gawd, I’m sorry Jillie, “he muttered.

It was the best of times and the worst of times, but it was the only time I knew….being  homemaker.  Now the title feels like a cold dark lake.  I do not what to plunge in there–you have no idea what kind of bacteria is lurking around.

Displaced, is  a gawd awful word.  Roof tiles are displaced when dislodged from a Tornado!

And that is exactly how I felt when my daughter had the nerve to grow up and leave.  Suddenly, I had the urge to jump out of my chair run to the Grocery store and buy a Family Pack just for ole time’s sake.

How to you just turned it off?  I do not get it.  Being a homemaker was all I know.

There is symbolism here with being  a DISPLACED HOMEMAKER.