Sunday, April 30, 2006

THE SELFISH GIANT

It is hard to believe that I have let a week go by since posting anything here, but the last posting date says it all, so a week it is.

 

A busy week flew by – also one with Brian at home.  Each year I do something with him every day that is special, leading up to his actual birthday.  It makes a whirlwind week to say the least.  His birthday party isn’t until next Saturday.  It is at his Dad’s – I’ll show up and be Disneyland mom.

 

How funny it is that we spend our young years wishing to hurry and grow older and our older years wishing we are younger.  Brian is thrilled to be growing older.  I wish I could slow it down.  On Friday at school Brian proceeded to get into a fight.  The other kid got detention, because luckily for Brian the Principal knows him through his teachers, the specialists and all the meetings.  The one thing that has been a constant is that Brian is a nice boy.  The Principal punished the other kid.  But of course, in Brian style, he was over the top upset when i picked him up from school.  I then had to tell him, that as a boy, that would not be his last fight.  I then went on to tell him my favorite "berry pie fight" story about my brother when he was in eigth grade.  It's a funny story and it made Brian laugh.  I think he thought I was going to be mad.  I am not about to get upset over playground boundaries.

 

Last week I was to interview (2nd level) for a well paying trainer position.  I was up for the cause until I got an email from their HR Recruiter.  Three disclosures came to me titled the following:

 

  1.  DISCLOSURE AND AUTHORIZATION 

DISCLOSURE:  A consumer report may be procured for employment purposes on the behalf of HF.  A consumer report or investigative consumer report include…

 

   2.  NOTICE TO California APPLICANTS AND EMPLOYEES REGARDING  CONSUMER REPORTS AND INVESTIGATIVE CONSUMER REPORTS.  A consumer report or an investigative consumer report that may include information concerning your credit worthiness, credit standing, credit capacity, character general reputation, personal characteristics or mode of living may be contained in connection with your application and/or continued employment with the company…

 

  3.  HF BACKGROUND INVESTIGATION CONSENT

I hereby authorize HF and or any of its affiliated entitles and or any of their employees, contractor or agents collectively to make an independent investigation of my background…

 

They go on and on … I am tempted to scan and post what they look like, because when I got them I got so redheaded pissed off that I wanted to fly and meet the President and tell him what I thought of their “up front” disclosures.  And, that for this, the job does not even pay close to what I am worth.

 

I have worked for the Royal Bank of Canada, NAMC, FCMC, Great Western Bank, Exchange Bank, LBS, Continental Savings and ATG and NEVER have I EVER been given this kind of up front in-your-face -“do-you-fit-in-white-America’-bullshit-we’ll inspect-you- and-you-had-better-like-it paperwork in my life!

 

I called and cancelled the second interview, then sent and email to the recruiter.

 

After September 11th, I lost my tech job as telecom took a nose dive and got on airplanes to commute all over the US for work.  I traveled on business flights when there were only three other people and the flight crew.  Every time the plane took off, I prayed we would be safe; every time we landed I thanked God for a safe flight. 

 

I have been padded down more than most inmates and had my belongings searched in the name of national security so that all of us might be safer in the skies.  I was glad to put up with the heightened security, as I explained to my son repeatedly why I had to leave him and that I would be coming home.  In the wake of United Flight 93, many can understand what business travelers think about when we fly.  We never forgot for once, and we traveled to keep business going and support our families.

 

And you want to inspect me to see if I ‘measure up”?  I don’t think so.  I say you can take this job and go to hell.  I will clean bathrooms first.

Add in this week some guy locally from the Internet who has been pressuring me to meet him.  I was not sure I really liked him and something about his manner in instant messages put me off.  I am so busy with Brian – we know I live to support his life – which men have to be a certain fatherly type to possibly ‘fit in’.  I am just not a girl to date, just to date.

 

I like to date people I could be a friend with, who understand my life.  If we do not get past being friends, then we have both gained a friend, and if we do, our relationship is based on a solid friendship.  A win- win.

 

But this guy always blamed other people for everything.  He was innocent in his last break up … innocent in this …innocent in that … a victim.  I do not trust victimization stances – especially from a man.  Men will say “I never saw the break up coming” then you talk with the woman and she gives a laundry list of the things that were wrong that she tried to fix for years where he ignored the problem.  She gets fed up, and leaves. 

 

I am honest when guys ask me straightforward questions and I told him my reasons for not really wanting to even start a friendship.  I mean, I hardly have time for my current best friends that I adore, and add in new friend Mc Yummy (who I want to get to know) and my life is pretty full.  So, he had better be low maintenance.  This guy was high maintenance online.  It was like he couldn't understand I have this crazy busy life and somehow my not having time for him had something ulterior to it.  good god - get over yourself!  He was a pain in the ass online and I was sooooooo grateful this week when he finally got mad at me and gave up.  TA DA.  Problem solved.  Of course, in his fashion – it is my entire fault.  Ok, I bite … it is my entire fault.

 

There…better?

 

Uh, FYI:  ..."Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter..."... 

 

Now I have to turn my attention back to what job I want to do next.  I have some other feelers out there … just keep me in your prayers.  But now that the sun is shining business is picking up.  Life as a single mom…oiy.

 

Hopefully this will be a calmer week …

 

Until next time-

 

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Thursday, April 27, 2006

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http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

BRIAN'S BIRTHDAY WEEK

Brian turns 11 tomorrow.  WOW.  Where do the years go?  I think ... for every year our children get older, we should grow younger.  It could be some natural law of Parental Physics.

God, the teenage years are coming ... the teenage years are coming ... the teenage years are coming...

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Monday, April 24, 2006

GUILTY PLEASURES

For seven years I did not have cable television.  My x husband is a TV junkie, so when he moved out, I gleefully had cable turned off.  Brian and I watched rented movies, and, for the most part listened to nothing but music.  I was shocked at how little I missed TV, and how easy it is to live without.  Music in a home adds beauty, warmth and laughter.

Last year, Brian asked for cable TV for his birthday.  Since he is such a great kid and works so hard at school, I relented and gave into his wish.

Now I am forced to admit ...

I LOVE MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE.

Brian and I sit and watch the antics of this dysfunctional family and bathe in the hilarious reality of the show.  The mother needs to be a redhead...  

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com


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Saturday, April 22, 2006

A THOUSAND TEARS

It has been said that we must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee.

Mr. McNeany was a man, who believed in making the small difference, thus his funeral was a tribute attended my several thousand.  We all remember his little acts of kindness as we sit shoulder to shoulder within a packed standing room only cathedral.  How did he have time for all of us, his businesses, his wife and eight children and many grandchildren?

There is a Hebrew saying from the Talmud. It says, "Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire."  He saved many with his kind deeds ...

It was a tribute befitting a fine man.  I wonder what we all will do now.  There are few business leaders like Mr. McNeany.  If your husband died, he gave you a job.  Hungry, he'd send groceries.  Need a referral for a job?  He'd write you a glowing report.  He wrote one for every job I ever got.

In recent years at the cemetery, he would see me near my father's grave.  "How are you sunshine?"  he would yell.  "Fine sir"  I'd reply.  As he moved closer he would ask "IS single motherhood treating you ok?  Do you need anything?"  "I am ok" I would always answer, even when I wasn't.  It mattered that he be proud of me ... and think I could handle my life.

As I sat in the pew of the cathedral and listened to the readings and stories about Mr. McNeany's life, I pondered how different the business leaders are today.  It is all about greed, profits and a golden parachute.  So very different from this man we pay honor to on this Wednesday afternoon.  A service that lasts two hours and spills out of the cathedral onto the street.

All the men dressed in their finest business suits, the women in dark dresses.  They say Californians are too casual and disrespect with their dress at important events, but Mr. McNeany's funeral would prove this completely incorrect.  All the men gave up seats for the women, so when the service began, one could cast their eyes around the standing-room-only crowd and find only men in suits standing proudly.  It was Santa Rosa old school ... the "Coca Chanel" crowd ... dignified and lasting.

I remember the college parties at the McNeany home when Mr. McNeany would be in New York for the fall buying trip.  A group of about 50 of us would converge on the McNeany compound, dressed to the nines, because in our college days we loved to dress up at night.  We'd play pool, cards, drink and laugh and try to avoid being tossed in the glimmering swimming pool.  All the girls wanted John ... I wanted Allen ... I was always different.

Sometimes we would go out dancing, other times make food in the kitchen.  We were a group of people that liked and admired each other.  I can say that I never heard one derogatory remark about anyone.  In fact, a group of the guys tried like hell to make sure I wouldn't date Bob W. the x basketball star a few years older.  They found him arrogant, bitter and bad news.  Did I listen?  Not at first - hey he was 6'7"  - the first time I could wear five inch pumps and still reach up to kiss him.  I felt small ... it was fun.

Until he opened his mouth.  It didn't last long.  I couldn't take the pressure from the group pointing out all his faults, which were hard to ignore.  My brother handled it by bringing Rich around, who I found fascinatingly handsome.  Ultimately, it would be Rich ... for almost 7 years.

As I sat staring towards the alter of the church these many memories flood my mind and I wonder where the years have gone.  Denise sits next to me, leaning in, telling me who she sees.  We all look so much older... where in the hell did all the grey hair come from?  Denise is eyeing the men to see if there were any I could catch on their next go around ... what a nut.

The Wake after was held at the Polo clubhouse at Oakmont in the Valley of the Moon.  Just like the parties at the McNeany's, there was plenty of food, drinks and laughter.  Long lost friends hugged and reunited.  Mr. McNeany would have loved it.  It was good to see his children laughing and enjoying the tribute to their father.

It seems like yesterday when I too, walked that long church isle behind my father's coffin, and Laura stepped out from her family, took my hand and walked out with me.  She is now married to Joe.  It is funny the twists and turns our lives take.  To this day I am still moved by Laura's friendship during my father's death and the weeks following.  I could not have asked for a better friend.  It is impressive because she was 18 at the time, and no one instructed her what to do, she just went with her feelings ... and probably saved me.

I hope all of us who loved Mr. McNeany helped the family as much as Laura did for me 28 years ago during a beautiful August when my father left this world.

All in all this was an emotional week.  I was exhausted by the end, but made it through without wilting into bed.  The meds seem to be working ... maybe it is the new luck of the Irish...

Until next time-

C  

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

THE MEDIUM OF EXPERIENCES PAST

Memories have a way of coming up in our present life experience and knocking us to the floor when we least expect it.

I went to the Rosary for Mr. McNeany.  It was a beautiful sunny evening, so perfect for a man who created so much sun in the lives of those he touched.  Joe, one of his youngest sons (who looks just like his dad) was at the door to the Chapel greeting everyone and thanking us for coming.  It was just like something his father would do.

Upon seeing Joe in his suit and shaking everyone's hands my heart fills with sadness like slow molasses over a heavy pancake.  Unexpectedly, I want someone to hold my hand and tell me everything is going to be fine ... I was about to relive my own father's death ... twenty eight years later.  I am ill prepared for where my emotions are about to take me. Suddenly I feel very alone, just like I did at my own father's Rosary.  I don't know why I didn't ask someone to come with me.

Why do I have to pretend to be so strong?

When I am not.

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

SPRING FEVER

Lunch was fun.  It's finally sunny in our little part of California.  It was the perfect way to celebrate this lovely warm day.

Mr. McNeany's Rosary is tonight.  Joe (x Rosenburg's hottie) is meeting me there.  Reunion time with tears.

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Monday, April 17, 2006

SUDDENLY SPRING

The next thing I know...

I have a lunch date with Mc Yummy.

Now THAT'S some change.

It's perfect, for whenever I hear this song I think of him:

"Unwritten"

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh how I  would so love to write THIS story, but he has access to this blog and  it is difficult playing cool when someone has access to your brain.

Suddenly it is Spring.

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Saturday, April 15, 2006

GIRL'S NIGHT

I haven't done a "Girl's Night" in ages and Friday night a collection of friends and business women had a "Girl's Night".  It was to be at one woman's house and a collection of a women friend's jewelry, pj and another's purse line were show cased.  It is women in support of women.

I almost didn't go, as it was an exhausting week.  But Stephanie TRICKED me, and I ended up driving into the McDonald Historic district to a wonderful home I have been to for many a May birthday party for Michael, a local broker.  Except, Michael moved last year, so I was surprised when I noticed the address was Michael's old place.  I love this little two bedroom bungalow.

Every year Michael hosts what is considered to be one of the best parties in Sonoma County.  The streets are blocked, live music, a cigar bar, an Oyster bar, a martini bar, a red carpet, and all the wine and champagne you can imagine make this the party of the year.  It is great fun.  He moved last year and the party was last minute.  I didn't go, so I had no idea that our host had purchased his old place.

Her 'Girl's Night', with Janice's help was every bit the party in the grand style of this home.  Champagne, wine, margarita's and a food spread that could have hosted a small private wedding covered the kitchen area.  Add in 50+ of the most wonderful business women and it was a recipe for laughter and a lot of business talk.

It was great seeing everyone and I had to hear all kinds of crap about where in the hell I have been keeping myself and was I sick of my x husband yet.  These women never think my situation is strange, as Michael used to date the host of the party and her new boyfriend and Michael stopped by for a glass of wine together.  It's this town.

Janice has a new hottie boyfriend and looks tremendously happy.  It is wonderful when your friends are in the "happy zone". I met a woman who wants to get involved with non-profits for children, which is right up the ally of my book and what I am trying to do for kids with learning disabilities.  We exchanged cards and she wants to team up with me.  Nothing like possibly creating my next career on accident.  But this is what this group of successful women is all about.

I find it humorous that men fantasize about a bunch of women, but when they walk into a house to face us, they end up looking like stalked prey.  Several of the women's boyfriends and husbands came to pick their women up.  Upon walking in the door, they smile, then look for the best place to hide - which was the courtyard in back.  I slightly envy these women as they are so proud of the men they are with ... happy to take off with their guys.  I almost forget what that feels like.

When the party began to wind down a group was going out dancing.  I wanted my bed.  They tried to talk me into it, but since I am having Easter dinner (thanks to my mom) I had a home to prepare.

My x is stressing with his life which means he takes it out on Brian.  I knew I needed to rise early to get my little man and bring him home.  As expected, they were not speaking when I got to my x's place.  When Brian got into my truck he would not say goodbye to his dad.  His Dad lost his temper and went for Brian in the truck.  There I was for the first time in five years, stepping into my x's face when he is nuts.

What a lovely Easter moment.

I told him to calm down, stop, it was Easter and he was behaving like a child and pissing me off.  He stepped back, I shut Brian's door and locked it and drove Brian away from his dad.  Brain is now in tears.  I haven't had to be in his Dad's face in a long time - some things given enough time just don't change.  Not that I really expect that it will.  I just know I have to figure my career thing out (now that I am feeling better) and re-distance myself again.

My x boss is the head of the business, and my x husband works for him.  I have prepared this x boss that I can't do this business with my x for very long and I am looking to move on.  My x boss understands ... I think he's rather my x husband left, but that is not about to happen.

Since by force it's my year to host Easter, my family must think I am doing better to make me play hostess.  If you really want a clean home, throw a party, then it forces you to clear out the dust bunnies.  It is soooooooooo much work though.  I like it when I can just show up at my mother's house with a bottle of wine.

I am looking forward to next week - Easter week and spring break for Brian.   I am going to make Brian take all the Easter candy to his dad's house.  That is the best revenge I can think of...

Happy Easter-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Thursday, April 13, 2006

DEATH BECOMES US

Rosenburg's continued...

Mr. McNeany became like a second father to me.  He always called me "Sunshine", something he still would call me every time he would run into me these years.  "There's my sunshine" he would say.  John, one of his sons and another close college friend, always says "He just adores you".  Yeah well, I look just like his other redheaded daughters and I am sure my stunts were legendary.  Burning that neck tie was not my last disaster while working for Bill McNeany.

Mr. McNeany had rules for all of us that worked in his store, rules that serve me well to this day.  I think I could write a book about life and call it "Mr McNeany's rules." 

Some of them were:

1.  No chewing gum in front of a customer - EVER.

2.  Never take a phone call over the customer in front of you.  The customer in front of you IS YOUR CUSTOMER.

3.  Know your customer's name.

4.  Never talk personal business in front of a customer.

5.  Always suggest more.

6.  Never leave your customers helpless in a dressing room.

7.  ALWAYS do what you tell your customer you are going to do, and then do one thing more that you didn't tell them you would do.

8.  While in the store, your customer islike family and our guest.  Treat them as such.

9.  White shoes should be saved for brides.

10.  Always be kind, then respectful.

11.  Never point.  Escort your customer to where they need to go.

12.  The customer is always right. 

13.  Dress respectfully, and if you don't I will send you home to change and dock your pay.  Look in the mirror before you leave your home and think, "Would my grandmother like me in this... at her wedding?"...

14.  Be on time.

15.  Listen to your customer.

16.  Look busy.

17.  Wear a good bra (compliments of those alterations ladies).

18.  Make sure your customer has fun.

19.  If your customer can't come to you, then go to them.

20.  ALWAYS say, "Thank you." .. and mean it.

On Tuesday April 11th in the year of our lord 2006, Mr. William McNeany Senior, former owner of Rosenburgs died of cancer.

{SORRY - THE LINK KEEPS EXPIRING< SO HERE IS THE PD ARTICLE:

BILL MCNEANY 1926-2006 - ROSENBERG'S OWNER LED WITH CHARM, GRACE

Published on April 12, 2006 © 2006- The Press Democrat

BYLINE:    TIM TESCONI

THE PRESS DEMOCRAT

PAGE: B1

Like the long-gone Rosenberg's Department Store that he owned, Santa Rosa's Bill McNeany epitomized grace, style and old-fashioned courtesy until the end.

McNeany, patriarch, businessman, community leader and pillar of the Catholic Church, died Tuesday at his Santa Rosa home following a 10-year battle against cancer. He was 79.

A businessman with the heart of a Sunday school teacher, McNeany's generosity and compassion were as legendary as the old department store he presided over for more than 30 years. He had an instinctive decency that came through in everything he did, whether running the store, raising his eight children or quietly performing his many acts of private charity.

Friends said McNeany represented the Christian faith at its finest and the Catholic heritage at its best.

``Bill's urge to help others, coupled with his incredible energy, made him a figure in a lot of lives during his many years in Santa Rosa,'' said Justice Joseph Rattigan, a friend for more than 50 years. ``His most singular characteristic was that he genuinely loved everybody. He had good things to say about everyone -- even some bad people.''

For most of his adult life, McNeany and his family were associated with Rosenberg's, the grand dame of downtown Santa Rosa for 93 years. Rosenberg's closed in 1988 as patronage waned, fading amid the competition of trendy boutiques and the major chain stores like Macy's that anchored shopping malls. Barnes & Noble Bookstore now inhabits the classic building at Fourth and D streets that was once Rosenberg's, the name still a pleasant memory for many Santa Rosans of a certain age.

``Rosenberg's was best at Christmas. Bill in his impeccably tailored suit, gliding about the see-and-be-seen first floor, carrying your packages to the gift wrap, laughing and hugging everyone,'' Patti Konicek Dietzen said Tuesday.

``At Christmas, you didn't go to Rosenberg's just to see Santa, you went to see Bill McNeany,'' she said.

Dietzen said McNeany often was at the door to greet customers, knowing the neck size of a judge's favorite Arrow shirt or directing schoolgirls to the autumn collection of angora sweaters and matching knee socks.

``No matter what door you entered, you were greeted by name by Bill,'' said Dietzen. ``He seemed to be on both floors and the mezzanine all at the same time.''

When Rosenberg's closed for good in 1988, McNeany rolled up his sleeves and got a job. He was associated with American Home Shield for several years.

For the past 12 years, McNeany served as the associate director of the department of cemeteries for the Santa Rosa Diocese, working under Father Gerald Fahey, the former pastor at St. Eugene Cathedral. Fahey said he met McNeany when he was named pastor at St. Eugene in 1970, cherishing McNeany's spirit of friendship.

``I have had ample opportunity to get to know Bill as one of the finest, kindest and generous human beings it has been my privilege to be associated with in 55 years of public life,'' Fahey said Tuesday.

Stories of McNeany's generosity abound. At Christmas he donated dozens of Rosenberg's most expensive sweaters to troubled girls locked in juvenile hall. When a longtime Rosenberg's employee died, he assisted in raising her daughter. He counseled employees on marital troubles and held the hand of an employee dying of a brain tumor.

``The employees at Rosenberg's were like his second family. He loved all of them and he loved the retail business. It was really hard for Bill when Rosenberg's closed,'' said Mary McNeany, his wife of 54 years.

McNeany was born Aug. 22, 1926, in Fond du Lac, Wis., the son of a merchant. He got his start as a clothing salesman in Milwaukee. He came to Santa Rosa in 1951when his father, Joseph McNeany, bought Rosenberg's from members of the Rosenberg family.

Bill McNeany immediately became involved in the church and community while running the store and raising his large family. He served on the board of directors of Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital, Hanna Boys Center, Cardinal Newman High School, Junior Achievement and Boy Scouts. He was a member of many clubs and received awards for his leadership and philanthropy.

In addition to his wife, Mary, McNeany is survived by his sons, Bill, John, Joseph and Patrick McNeany, all of Santa Rosa; his daughters, Therese McNeany-Peifer and Mary Ellen Struck, both of Sturgeon Bay, Wis., Kathleen Veon of Sacramento, and Elizabeth Dericco of Healdsburg; his sister, Marion Tidmarsh of Rancho Bernardo; his brother-in-law, Monsignor John Donovan of Milwaukee; and 12 grandchilden.

A Funeral Mass will be celebrated at 1:30 p.m. April 19 at St. Eugene Cathedral. Entombment is at Calvary Catholic Cemetery.

A Vigil Rite service will take place at 7 p.m. Tuesday at Lafferty & Smith Colonial Chapel.

The family suggests memorial contributions to Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital Foundation, Memorial Hospice, Catholic Charities or Cardinal Newman High School Foundation.}

I cried.

In the mid- 1980's when Macy's came to Santa Rosa and the era of earthquake proofing the buildings that survived numerous earthquakes came to fruition.  It was to cost 10 million dollars to retrofit the building that housed Rosenburg's.  With that news, Rosenburgs closed in 1988.

Mary and I transferred the Bridal department out of Rosenburg's to Brides Etcetera in 1983, so I was not there to witness the end.

Mr. McNeany went on to manage Calvary cemetery for the Catholic church.

This is how my life goes ... because I live just below that same cemetery ... where my own father is buried ... and my younger sister ...my Irish Grandma ... and grandpa .. and someday ... me own Ma.

These past years he has been the caretaker of the place where those once alive and dear to me lay rest.  Often, I walk down the street, up the hill and across Bennett Valley road, to hike up to the top where my father lay rest.  The view from his grave overlooks the Santa Rosa Valley.  The bell tower rings every hour on the hour and I can hear it within my home.  Every time the bells sound I think it is Mr. McNeany reminding me to say hello to my family on the other side.  "Stop what you are doing Catherine, spit out your gum, and say a respectful hello to your family"...

Next Tuesday evening is the Rosary for Mr. McNeany and Wednesday is his funeral.  I will press my finest blacks, shine my best black shoes, pull my hair back in a tight twist and gather my rosary beads and go pay respect to a man whoforever changed my life.  He taught me the rules of life after my father no longer could, rules I still use to this day.

I will print this story and give it to John to read to his seven other brothers and sisters when they gather together to discuss their dad... and they will know that after all these years..he was loved by many.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

A LITTLE SONOMA COUNTY HISTORY

When I was just a little girl my mother and I would travel from Rohnert Park to Santa Rosa for a very special shopping trip.  This usually happened on a Saturday once a month.  My older brother and my father would be working on the yard, as my mother packs me into the car and waves goodbye to my dad.  It was girl's shopping day.

 

We travel up 101, take the downtown Santa Rosa exit and drive up Third Street towards a local icon.  We pull into a large parking lot where a “greeter” directs us to the first available parking space.

 

We have just arrived at Rosenburg’s Department Store.

 

Like a mammoth monument to the sky, the Rosenburg store stretches upwards so high that it seems to touch the clouds.  Crystal clean glass doors open to invite us into the hidden treasures of this famous department store.  It was like entering another world.  Wide waxed tile floors guide our path like the yellow brick road to Oz. Ladies carrying orange boxes with handles and the name Rosenburg's printed on the side smile as we pass them.  They have "the box", those famous perfect clothing boxes where Rosenburg's placed your purchases.

 

We stop at the elevator, where a white gloved elevator operator greets us and opens the cage to the elevator.  It was a manual elevator, where the operator controls the elevator, taking customers to the mezzanine and second floor.  It was my favorite object in the whole store ... well ... next to the famous jeans wall with wooden ladders.

 

Back in the far corner of the second floor is the Brownie and Girls Scout section.  To me, it seemed like they had everything a young girl could ever want.  I remember my excitement when my mother hands me the large orange Brownie book and told me to carry it to the register.

 

She then went on to buy my Brownie uniform, orange tie, orange and brown socks, gloves, and matching hat.  It was official:  I am going to be a Brownie.  Now what kid would not like to be named after a thick piece of chocolate?

 

The McNeany's own the store, and most importantly Mr. Bill McNeany, who always walked the store, dressed in a suit, checking on all the departments making sure every customer was getting the attention they deserved.  At Rosenburg's they call you by your name.

 

My first jeans (Levi's of course) came from Rosenburgs.  To this day it was the largest selection of folded jeans I have ever seen in one location.  They were stacked from the floor to the tall ceilings covering a massive back wall.  Tall wooden ladders on rollers slid along wooden bars taking the salesperson from one end of the jeans stacks to the other.  They would yell and throw them down to each other - it was like watching a stage show. Rosenburg's guaranteed they would always have your size, and they always did.

 

Mr. McNeany hired the very young and the very gorgeous to work in the jeans department.  When I was a young girl I failed to appreciate this aspect, but as I grew into a teenager I couldn't wait to go check out the "Rosenburg guys" in the jeans department.  They were hot!!  The "Rosenburg guys" loved to guess your exact jeans size and were usually dead-on every time.

 

After my father's death, I went on to the local Junior College and worked at a local Bank in the computer center.  I hated it.  Lost, depressed and hating my major I switched to the more creative, artistic classes.  A woman who employed me several times for modeling work, called to inform me that Rosenburg's was hiring for Christmas, and I was just the type of girl they liked to have in their store. She had arranged a meeting with the HR manager for me. 

 

I think I ran to the interview.

 

I landed the job and felt like I was just admitted to this elite club of cute sales people in this up-scale store.  I was placed in the accessory department, right next to the silk scarfs.  This was perfect for me, because with all my girls scout knot training and my creative side, I can tie anything and make it a work of art.  I sold more scarfs that Christmas than they had in three years.  They wanted me as a permanent employee - I was officially in!

 

Of course no one told me that I had to be a stock girl before I could be a salesperson, and I was placed on the second floor in fine women's fashions.  It was located just off the Wedding department.  The next youngest salesperson on this floor was 38 - I was 19.  The other salespeople and managers were 40-100 (and I am not kidding).  I was the only "young person" on the whole second floor.

 

Just beyond the massive cash resister station was the alteration department.  Hidden behind this large swinging bar type door was a world and culture beyond anything I had experienced in my young life.  Eight seamstresses lined one long wall of sewing machines.  They were from Russia, Poland, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Germany and America.

 

Now, if you knew me growing up, ironing was not my thing.  My mother did my ironing and when she made me iron I complained and bitched so much that she stopped asking me.  In Rosenburg's it was the stock person's job to press every garment that was to be placed on the floor.  It was also our responsibility to remove all the manufacturer's tags and hang the price tag together with these tags on the lower right side - away from where they would interfere in trying on the garment.  What a concept, huh?

 

It was my job to make sure everything in the fine women's department looked like the show rooms of Paris and my boss rode my ass to insure her department was the best.  Little did she know she had hired the world's worst iron girl in the West.  On my first day I was sent to the alterations room to steam iron a pile of evening gowns made of fabrics I had never seen.  I placed the first exquisite gown on the pulley and grabbed the steam iron like a pro and proceeded to steam burn the silk tie at the neck, taking it from a long 8 inch tie to a tiny burnt knot ball.  I screamed.  All the alterations ladies stopped their work and rushed to me.

 

I was sure I was about to be fired, and little did I know that this stunt would endear me to all the ladies in the alterations department for life.  Vera, the one from Russia began talking in a language I did not understand and Rose runs over to a large box of scrap fabrics.  After digging through the box for what seemed like a lifetime, (while the other ladies console me and Vera has managed to pull the neck apart to the gown and removed the burnt fabric ball) Rose comes up with a piece of fabric that looks remarkably like the gown.

 

The next thing I know, like something from a magic show, they are cutting, matching and sewing, while Vera instructs and points.  Meanwhile, one of the other seamstresses is teaching me the 'proper' way to steam a fine garment. (GOOD LUCK).  Before I can say "Whodoneit"  Vera has sewn on a complete new tie.  It was perfect, except it was about four inches shorter than the original.  "Just stick it on the floor, she won't notice"  Vera tells me speaking of my boss.  "It's ugly anyways and will probably end up on the sale rack, your disaster makes it look better"  she continues and pushes me out the door to place the gown out on the showroom floor.  As the door swings shut I hear them all bust out laughing.  From this day on they all treat me like their daughter.

 

My boss never noticed, but that damn gown never did sell and stayed in the store for what seemed like three years.  It eventually was donated to Good Will.  After nine months of living with a steamer, I asked to join the Bridal Department and become a Wedding Consultant.  Mr. McNeany gave his nod and my new career was born.

 

I met Joe on my first day on the job at Rosenburgs.  He was one of those hot Rosenburg's guys and we became instant friends.  He asked me out for ice cream and I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  Donna from fine jewelry came along and the three of us were to become like the three musketeers - never apart for the next three years.  Joe was from this large Italian family (all boys) and eventually all the brothers, Joe, Donna and I would spend our weekends together.  I think we danced at every nightclub from Ukiah to Napa to San Francisco.

 

It was the perfect college life.

To be continued...

 

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Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Collide

"...Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find, you and I collide

I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know you're always on my mind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find. you and I collide..."

 

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/


Monday, April 10, 2006

WHERE'S MY GLASS SLIPPER?

Brian returns home this afternoon after his week with his dad.  Similar to a "wedge tornado” he has the capacity to create quite the wide path of damage when he roars through each room on his way back to his domain (his bedroom). 

Wait!  I had a clean home here just a minute ago.

One shoe is by the door, another in the middle of the living room, his backpack on the table, lunch pail hung on a doorknob, dirty sock here, and a baseball cap there.  Invasion of the clean home snatchers has begun.

I do miss him though.  The place is too quiet when he is not here.  When he goes to his Dad’s it is nice the first two nights, but then it becomes this long waiting game for the shoes on the floor, the wet towels in my bathroom, the constant, “Mom, mom, mom, mom” … his return.

It was an eventful weekend.  I feel good and have gone running all but one evening.  The Doctor likes what he is seeing.  Shall we throw the party now?

Last year, John suggested there was possibly a story here in this blog.  The beginning, middle and the end of my Hashimoto’s problem along with the stories of life as a single (crazy) redheaded mom.  BE afraid.  Be very afraid.

We could call it “How I Did Everything Wrong and MY Life Turned Out Right Anyway.”

It could work if I have the guts to tell all the stories.  I have kept many of them hidden, as to put my WHOLE life out here online for the world to see, seems more invasive than the same words pressed within the crisp, white pages of a book.  However, Cinderella has to have a happy ending here before it would make a great story anyway, and that part is still a work in progress.

It could become a friggin saga.  :-)

Side bar: I saw Mr. McYummy too … he is … well, yummy.

Did I say yummy?

Yeah, yummy.

Today I talked with the President of another start up telecom  – should I run now?  Oddly enough, his name is Brian and was leaving for Japan He wanted to have a chat before he left for the airport.  Do I have the energy to work a start up again?  Scott, the President of the wireless company I spoke about last year (and one of my last bosses) is still waiting for the next round of funding, so he is down to one salesperson.  Start-ups ... oiy.  I would be working with all men again.

And the rain, continues to fall.

Until nest time-

C

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Sunday, April 9, 2006

CAN'T SLEEP...

I think the new meds are working as I can't sleep tonight.  I went for a jog earlier this evening and I think for the first time in my life, exercise might be giving me energy.

Middle of the night TV is interesting, as I get to finally see something about my neighbor (and Brian's idol) Rob, and Arena football.  It plays up against hair straightening imfomertials, make money with no money down and Tony Robbins.  Thank God for late night Arena football re-runs...

http://www.arenafootball.com/ViewArticle.dbml?SPSID=19847&SPID=1554&DB_OEM_ID=3500&ATCLID=96374&Q_SEASON=2006

Every time I look at Rob as he walks to his door, I gaze at his massive football size and think, "Oh dear lord there goes the size of man Brian is going to be ... how in the hell am I going to feed Brian?"  Lot's of potatoes...?...

Brian starts baseball camp next week.  I imagine the Irish side of my family twisting in their graves with glee.  "God bless the baseball player" is an intricate part of my family's Irish prayers.  All hail the bat, glove and the pitchers mound.  My ancestors would rise up from the grave to kiss me if Brian gets into boxing as well.  Last week, Brian watched Cinderella Man with me and we both yelled at the TV, as if it was happening live in our living room. He then asked me hundreds of questions on boxing.  His dad is an x boxer (oh no) ... what happened to my Scientist boy? 

I should note that when he was at his Dad's this week he called to remind me Nova was discussing sun particles and wanted to know if I had it on TV too.  He went on to tell me all about the universe (which he is obsessed).  I grinned, as I thought, "Good, my geek boy is still in there somewhere." 

Although,if he does grow up to be like our neighbor and marry a woman as nice (and as together) as his wife, then my world will be complete.

Just please St. Jude ... no Rugby ...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

 

Thursday, April 6, 2006

IS THIS MY SIGN...

You know... that last little 'yawn' post caught me a whole lot of hell from you all.  Kinda like parents when you claim you are bored for the 500th time and you receive a shot to the head with a shoe, or chores of the worst kind.

But hey - if you read this blog for any length of time you know I am in this dull, bored-oh-whoa-is-me place.  This big ole Catherine pity party train is racing down the track "Whoa is me - whoa is me - chu chu...whoa is me- whoa is me chu chu...chuga chuga chuga chuga..." and it's one hell of a ride thank you very much.  I mean, come on. as a Type A personality - if you are going to do something DO IT RIGHT.

My particular pity train resembles the Glacier Express. The Glacier Express is advertised as the slowest express train in the world, requiring more than 7 1/2 hours to pass through southeastern Switzerland.  My train, in human form is going on, what..?...not 7 1/2 months!  God shoot me if it is - or is this how long I have been working around my x-husband?  But it is a slow winding pity train as I take in the sights and try and figure where I finally get off and walk into a new life.

Therein lies the rub.  Working with my x husband is not my 'next life'.

THAT'S THE PROBLEM.

Its time to move on.  However, this is not quite as simple as it appears.

Whenever I feel lost I pray to St. Jude.  It is a very Catholic thing, and why I love to keep his liking posted on this site.  (Don't worry I haven't become my mother with the Pope, JFK and my dad all hung on a wall).  St Jude is the "Chicken Soup for The Soul" Catholic Saint, and the Patron Saint of lost causes. The St. Jude Novena is dedicated to spreading the message that by praying a novena to St. Jude, you can experience a powerful fellowship of comfort, support and peace in your life. 

(I also talk to St Anthony when I loose things, and since I am forever loosing my keys and Anthony seems to find them, this is a tradition I don't mess with either.  We can discuss my neurosis on a later blog post).

So back to my dear friend St. Jude.  Here I am praying and praying to him (it's like a meditation) "Saint Jude, please help me with..." and "Please show me a sign."  I can't seem to do the traditional Catholic prayer of:

 "St. Jude, glorious apostle, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the person (who betrayed our Lord) has caused you to be forgotten by many, but the true Church invokes you universally as the Patron of things despaired of. Pray for me, who is so miserable; pray for me, that I may finally receive the consolations and the succour of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings, particularly (ADD YOUR PERSONAL REQUEST HERE), and that I may bless God with the Elect Throughout Eternity."  BREATHE NOW. 

This longer prayer invokes thoughts of women with doilies on their heads, dark whiskers growing from their chins, one complete eyebrow across their foreheads, beating their chests vision in a floral dress and comfortable shoes while looking up at the sky.

Uh no.  I need the jeans and leather jacket pray while in the bathroom version.

My girlfriend KB will always tell you that when I ask "For a sign" (quit rolling your eyes KB) some pretty odd 'signs' show up to say the least.  I can't ever figure out which one is the sign, so I end up always asking "Is THIS my sign?  Cause if it is, I am not getting it."  Usually this brings fits of laughter from KB, because my Saints seem to have a warped sense of fun.

So tonight, while still waiting for my sign (yes it's sad being raised Catholic) there is a knock upon my front door.  I open it, expecting one of Brian's friends.  But no, before me stand two men in suits looking a bit like Fuller Brush salesmen.  The littleman in the front with glasses resembles Marvin the Martian and is holding a bible.  (Jeesh I haven't sinned THAT much).

Yes friends, the Jehovah Witnesses are a standin on my front door...with bibles...looking like Marvin The Martian.

IS THIS MY SIGN?

Luckily for me I am bar-b-quing in the back so I tell them I can't talk ...my dinner will burn.  Now I am ALWAYS nice to these people, because even though they believe in one God and we Catholics believe in the Trinity - they are carrying bibles.  We Catholics like all the extra help we can get.  All the wine drinking tends to lead us astray.  I have a Celtic cross over my front door...maybe they thought I was a witch.

But I am thinking, 'St Jude if this is my sign...then I'm not getting it ...'

Later, I am sitting on the couch (after going running thank you very much), and my rear gate is open.  It is dark and I notice a shadow creeping up to my door.  I start to sit up as I can tell this is not a cat, dog or human...  Suddenly two VERY LARGE raccoons look in my window.  They are staring me down...my heart begins to race. 

Now those of you that have known me a while remember when a raccoon broke into my kitchen at the old house and I fought him with a baseball bat in my new matching Victoria Secrets red bra and underwear.  (Mark was going to be coming for a date that weekend and I had just purchased these new red pieces that were as uncomfortable as hell, but looked delicious, So NO MEN I am not always running around in red bra and underwear). The raccoon in my old kitchen was big, mean and came after me.  I was screaming my head off, banging around my Credco Louisville Slugger bat and no neighbors heard me.  We fought for almost an hour until I chased him out the pet door he had broken through.  He was aggressive and I ended up nailing the pet door shut.  He kept trying to come at me while I was nailing away.  I'd have to stop, pick up my bat, scream like Mel Gibson in Braveheart and race out my back door at him to run him off.  In the end, I flipped him off from my window.  Ever since then I am happy to admit that I am not a fan of raccoons.

And here I am tonight facing two raccoons from hell...I STILL HAVE THAT BAT. 

Is this my sign?  Cause if raccoons are it...then I am not getting it.

My mom calls at this moment and the sound of my ringing phone scare off the raccoons.  (They should run from me - I am nuts). She felt the need to call and check on me.  Catholic mothers have such a weird 6th sense, or if you are interdenominational you could say it is because she is a Gemini.  It was nice to hear from her, I think she loves me best when I am a mess.  She's a nurse, so it becomes her goal to make me well.  Although, as a parent I know she just wants to see me blissfully happy.  Isn't this what we all dream of for our children? 

I did take some steps toward change today.  Also, my new friend Randy told me something I found absolutely hilarious.  He said, "Did you know the Real Estate Application asks "Have you ever been convicted of a misdemeanor or a felony in the past number of years, except for a DUI"  I guess they figure we all drink and drive or are all drunks.  I had to laugh. 

Tonight on PBS evening news there was a story about Principal Ricky Reed in Bay St Louis Mississippi trying to hold together a school 7 months after the hurricane.  The whole town looks destroyed.  He spoke of children living in cars, tents and the like. I cried.  We tend to think our lives are bad until we are allowed a glimpse into someone else's.  The thought of children living in a car next to their destroyed home is devastating.  To hear this man speak, and his devotion to the children move me. 

The story: http://www.pbs.org/merrow/upcoming/

Photos: http://risingfromruin.msnbc.com/2005/10/it_took_hurrica.html

He is pretty damn sexy for a Principal too.  What do they feed Principals in the South??  He is yummy.  Too bad I can't find a photo with his chest and butt... I know I know...it is a sad story, but he is single ...and very sexy.

Was this my sign??

I am having dinner with Denise tomorrow night.  I call her 'the woman that knows everyone' and she is a redhead.  Should make for an interesting story...

I need my bed.  Thank you all for your kind ims, your emails and the like -smacking me upside the head.  I HEAR YOU.  I love how my world looks through your eyes.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/