Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Zeppelin and my uncle

The other night I was scrolling through Netflix looking for something to watch, when a documentary called "It Might Get Loud" caught my eye.  When I read the description, I knew I had to watch it.  It featured Jack White (White Stripes; Raconteurs), The Edge (U2), and Jimmy Page (Yardbirds, Led Zeppelin).  Jimmy Page has always been a favorite of mine so I settled in, cranked up the volume on the tv, and spent a very enjoyable couple of hours listening to these three guitarists talk about what inspired them, how they put their own spin on the instrument, and doing a few riffs alone & together.  While watching/listening to Jimmy, I started thinking about my favorite band, Led Zeppelin, and how I came to love their music. 

 It was 1969; I was an 8 year old kid living with my parents, who were in their late 20s. My mom and dad were into Country music; they didn't like "the rock and roll" except for Elvis....him, they could listen to endlessly.  At the tender age of eight, I already knew I hated country music, hated Elvis, and couldn't understand how my parents couldn't like rock and roll music. I had a little transistor radio that I listened to in my bedroom; I was in heaven listening to The Beatles, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, and The Who.  I lost count of how many times either my mom or dad would bang on my door and yell at me to "turn that noise DOWN!"  Me being me, well let's just say I was a rebellious little kid, so I'd just turn it up a little louder. 

I longed for a record player and a few records, and asked my mom if I could get one for my birthday, she said I was too young for that yet; maybe next year.  Since I still believed in Santa, I decided I'd wait and ask him for it for Christmas.  I knew if anybody would get it for me, he would; so I wrote it down and left the paper on my dresser, telling myself I'd show it to him when I went to see him in a few weeks. (This was a few weeks before Thanksgiving; I knew I didn't have long to wait until Santa came to town.)

My birthday falls a few days before Thanksgiving, and I was turning 9 that year.  As usual, I got a couple of new Barbie dolls and some clothes for them along with a brand new pair of ice skates; the skates were a surprise because I didn't ask for them but secretly wanted a new pair.  After the cake and ice cream were gone, my uncle (who was 18 at the time) said "I almost forgot; I have a couple of gifts for you."  He went out to his car and brought in a rather big box, a smaller box, and a rather odd looking flat package.  He gave me the smaller box first; it contained headphones....he said "Now they won't be yelling at you to turn your music down."  I laughed and remember saying, "Yeah, I can't wait to try these out!"  Then he gave me the big box; it was kind of heavy and I had to set it on the floor to open.  When I ripped off the paper, I screamed and jumped around.  He got me a stereo record player!!  I couldn't believe it!!  Then he gave me the flat package, and inside was a record called Led Zeppelin. He knew I had never heard of them and he got this smile on his face and said, "They're this new band from England; let's go hook up the stereo and see what it sounds like."  So we took it all into my room and after he got the stereo connected he said "You might want to close your door while we listen to this".  He put the record on the turntable and cranked up the volume.  My little nine year old years were instantly blown away by this throbbing guitar playing a few chords and then the drums coming in!!  Then this voice filled the room and he said "Listen to that!  What a voice!", and he turned it up just a little louder.  We spent the next hour listening to the album, and when it was done playing, we listened to it again.  This album was a sound I'd never heard before, but instantly loved!  My uncle knew he had just given me the best gift I could ever have been given.  It was the beginning of my love affair with Led Zeppelin's music and he had just given me the means to listen to it as much as I wanted. 

My uncle supplied me with every one of Zeppelin's albums as they were released; and each time a new one came out we'd listen to it together.  We shared our love of their music and talked all the time about going to see them.  Since he was nine years older than me, he was going to concerts; something I hadn't done yet and wouldn't be allowed to do to until I was 14.  When he was in his 20s, he went to California for a few years, and while he was there, he saw a Zeppelin concert.  He sent me a t-shirt, wrote me a letter about the concert and how great it was to see them live, and told me someday he'd take me with him to see one of their concerts.

As life has a strange way of laying waste to the best of plans, I never did get to see a Zeppelin concert.  John Bonham died in 1980; I was 19 years old and heard it on the radio on my way to work that morning.  People talk of John Lennon's death as the day the music died, but for me, that fateful day in September was the day music died.  I knew it was the end of the greatest rock n roll band in the world, and it saddened me that I had never got to see them in concert. 

I still have all of their albums on vinyl, with copies on CD.  Their music will live on for years to come in my house.  And whenever my uncle stops over, we haul out the albums, discuss them, talk about our favorite songs, look at the artwork and linear notes, choose an album to listen to, then crank up the volume and sit there grinning at each other, remembering my ninth birthday in 1969; the year he introduced me to their music. 

Thursday, December 16, 2010

When is a headache not just a headache?

Last night I had a bit of a scare.  I was watching tv, lounging on the sofa, when all of a sudden I felt the most excruciating pain in my head!  It hit with such force that it completely incapacitated me.  I immediately felt very nauseous, and thought I was going to become quite ill.  Because the pain in my head was so severe, I also immediately thought I was having a stroke.  I called out to my husband several times before he heard me, but once he did, he must have thought the same thing because he asked if I wanted to go to the emergency room.  I told him to give me a few minutes, see if it subsides first.  Stupid, I know, because if it was a stroke every minute counts, but I hate hospitals and usually do everything I can to avoid them.  I also noticed my two girls standing there, looking very scared and upset, so naturally I didn't want to scare them even more by telling my husband to call 911.  Instead I asked him to bring me 4 extra strength Tylenol, a glass of water, and the trash can in case I started vomiting.  After downing the Tylenol I also asked for an ice pack for my head.  That cold felt so blessedly good on my pounding head!

Thirty minutes later I asked for 3 more Tylenol and more water.  A few minutes after taking those I told my family I was very tired and just wanted to go to sleep.  They of course wouldn't let me; they kept talking to me, asking questions, making me answer them.  Finally, an hour later, the intense pain was gone though I still felt a bit nauseous.  I told them I felt much better, and kept to myself that I still had a bit of a headache; it wasn't nearly as bad but it was still there.

Finally I fell asleep, not giving it another thought.  When I woke up this morning the headache was gone, but the nausea remains.  Aside from this I feel fine.  I have no idea what caused this; I only know that the pain in my head came on very suddenly and was the most excruciating pain I've ever felt.  As I'm writing this, I'm waiting for my doctor's office to open.  I'm going to call for an appointment and have myself checked out.  I don't know what happened last night but I sure don't want a repeat!  This episode scared me more than I was willing to admit last night.  I need to find out what's going on, and if this headache was not just a headache.    

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Thursday, December 9, 2010

The Transition Center

Last night was open house at the Transition Center my youngest daughter attends.  For those of you that don't know what a Transition Center is it's a vocational/occupational training school for kids that have some type of disability.  The disability could be physical or mental, a learning disability or an emotional disability.  Besides offering vocational/occupational training, they also help the students transition from high school way of life into becoming a productive, valued, job-trained member of the community, and they give them the tools they will need to become a happy, successful, independent young adult. 

My daughter has a learning disability due to complications at birth.  She is a Senior in high school this year and will be graduating in June.  Her resource teacher at the high school suggested she attend the Transition Center for half a day this year along with spending half a day at her high school.  At the Transition Center she is learning skills she will need and use in her everyday life.  They are currently working on filling out job applications, mock interviews, writing resumes and cover letters, along with practicing basic math skills and handling money.  They also have her in what they call a Work Based Learning program.  In this program, they take her to different retail businesses in our area and she performs job duties such as stocking shelves, arranging clothing on display racks, and pricing items.  Right now this is unpaid work experience, but it is teaching her job skills and giving her a general idea of what it's like to have a job.

Last night her teachers told me that they have chosen her, along with 5 other students, to join their Job Club over the summer.  Job Club will provide her with a paid job, 20 hours per week, during the summer months.  She will be working in food service at one of our local hospitals.  They chose her because of her leadership qualities, her willingness to try new things without complaint, and her ability to follow directions with minimal supervision.  I must say this was the first time I saw my daughter actually proud of something she has accomplished on her own. 

Ever since Kindergarten my daughter has struggled in school every day.   Each year brought new challenges, new struggles.  In elementary school, reading, writing, and spelling were very difficult for her to master; but after lots of practice and with help from a Resource teacher she did it.  In high school, Algebra I, Algebra II, Biology, and Physics caused her nothing but frustration.  Writing college level essays and papers were extremely hard for her.  She has been picked on and ridiculed by her peers because she gets Resource help through the Special Ed. department.  Certain teachers have made her feel like she's a failure and have caused her great anxiety by telling her she will never pass their class.  Some haven't wanted to adhere to her IEP (Individualized Education Program) and have become kind of hostile when they are forced to do so.  She has only had a few friendships during her school years because when kids find out she receives Special Ed. help they ostracize her and/or make fun of her. But through all of this, day after day and year after year, my daughter has always tried to do the best she can do, no matter how hard the material was for her. Yet she never had a single teacher recognize her efforts.

All of this changed this year when she started attending the Transition Center.  She finally has recognition from her teachers; they tell her what a great job she's doing and how proud they are of her when she succeeds. She is finally attending a school where she isn't made to feel that she's different, and she isn't getting picked on or ridiculed by other kids. She finally has friends at school that like her and treat her the way all kids want to be treated....as an equal.  But more importantly, she finally has confidence in herself and her abilities; something she's never had since she began school.   She's only been attending the center since September, but already I can see a huge change in her....a change in the way she feels about herself and a knowing within herself that she is accepted and liked by others.

Last night the teachers at the Transition Center told us that after she graduates from high school in June she can continue attending the transition center for as long as she wants until she reaches the age of 26.  It will remain free of charge for her and she will be allowed to work on any skills she feels she needs more time to learn.  They will continue to give her job training, will continue to provide transportation to and from the job sites, they will pick her up at home in the mornings and drop her off at home every day, and they will set up job shadows for her in whatever field she's interested in. They will offer her life skills such as learning how to cook, learning about loans and credit cards, how to manage a checking account, how to use public transportation, where to go for resources if she needs them; anything that she would like help with while learning how to do for herself.. Basically they will continue to offer as much support, help, and resources as they can until she feels she's ready to go out on her own.

I am so thankful for the Transition Center and all of the help, support, and work they do for their students.   This has been a godsend for my daughter.  She is finally happy to attend school.  She finally has something to look forward to.  She finally feels successful. And she finally knows that she fits in with the rest of society.  Thank you Transition Center!  I don't know what we would do without you!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Winter has arrived in Michigan.  I despise winter.  I hate the cold, the snow, and the ice.  There are no thrills in putting on layers upon layers of clothes just to go to the grocery store.  It is not exciting to break a trail through a foot of snow from my back door to my car.  I lose all sense of dignity when I find myself waddling like a penguin in an effort to remain upright on icy surfaces.   By mid-January I have grown weary of exploring the white lumps in the driveway when trying to locate my car, only to discover that once again the lump I thought was my car was just another snowdrift.

Some people call Michigan a "winter wonderland."  I'm guilty of this as well, but it doesn't have the same meaning to me as it does to them. When they say it, they're thinking of all the things there are to do in MI during the winter; things like sledding, snowmobiling, ice fishing, skiing, snowshoeing, etc.  To me, winter wonderland means "I wonder how many more months until winter is over and I can actually see the land again?"  

No, I do not like winter.  I feel that if I were meant to enjoy winter, I would have been born a polar bear.  I'm more like a black bear.  They hibernate; they go into a warm, dark place as soon as the cold and snow comes and they don't venture out again until Spring has arrived.  I think they have the right idea.