Wax On. Wax Off.

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The new book wall with sofa’s and chairs and….

Yesterday and Today Himself: He was able to drive all over the county, get his work done, and arrange for Myrtle the Toyota to get a new axle while we are gone. Herself at Day Tripper and Herself Quilting: Brought the suitcases out when I got home. Sandwiches for dinner. Simple. 15 minutes to eat and no desert. It worked. Rewrote the first and last paragraphs of the "Thingplatz" piece so it has a thesis statement. Makes a little more sense now. Progress.

I believe in giving back.

I’m not one of the most functional of people with my learning disabilities, but I more than make up with it through enthusiasm. I believe anyone can give back.

I shoveled mud, I filed folders, and for years I worked on the loading dock at Father Joe’s Homeless shelter. I took donations in, stocked shelves, and pulled stuff off the shelves for lunch. It didn’t take brains. My wrists wore out, darn it. In the beginning, I was a little frightened walking from the trolley station through the homeless alcoholics and drug addicts. But who was I to say anything. I’d been a homeless, drunk addict myself.

After my hip let me retire, I tried several organizations on to see what fit. The library wasn’t a good fit for me, but the Cancer Society thrift store was just the right size. No one would want me on the cash register up front, but I could work happily in the back room. Norma taught me to sort the things that were donated. We are upscale, the boss told me. I learned let my passion go for the exquisite chipped items, and donate them on to Father Joe’s organization. I learned I had things that could be donated.

No stains. I could do this. No dirty collars. Check the pockets….ewwww. Check the crotch….double ewwwww. No chips, cracks, or singles glasses. My first year, I priced Christmas all year long.



Books had to be sorted too. There I found a home. Achooooo. No mold, no dust, no foxing allowed. Unless the book is old and worth lots of money. But then, in all honesty, it won’t sell until it is marked down.

My parents sat in their chairs at night sipping on their martinis. Where I got the notion to give back, I can only guess. My friends at college the first time around perhaps. Maybe it was those Kennedy years that inspired me. Now I give just a few hours a week. I donate. I can do this. Balance. Yin and Yang. Wax on and Wax off.