A Lazy Person You Shouldn't Be

My mother has a really hard time just sitting still, watching tv or resting without moving her body.  She feels she has to always be doing something and she raised us that way as well.  When we were kids, we were seldom allowed to watch Saturday morning cartoons - chores had to be done first.  And even after chores, we could only watch one or two cartoons and then we had to go outside and play.  We were never allowed to just sit around watching cartoons all day.  Even when it was nasty outside, we had to do something else besides watch the "box," like color or play games.  When we became older and just wanted to sleep in, she would make a sufficient amount of noise, like banging into our bedroom doors when she was vacuuming, to be sure and wake us up.  I was reminded of this today when she came in my room, without knocking, to come and get Kita while we were taking a nap.  She kept calling for Kita until I finally told her that she would not leave the room without me.  When I told her later that I didn't want to be awoken unless she was in need of something, she said "she saw my toes moving and thought I was up."  Funny - my toes move even in my sleep, a sure, telltale sign that my mother raised me to be doing something even when I am sleeping. 

And because I was raised to not be lazy and to be a productive human being, I've had many jobs in my lifetime, starting with babysitting in my teens.  I was a waitress when I turned 15 at The Red Balloon, somewhere outside of Chicago.  It was hard for me to remember what everyone ordered and because of that, I didn't make a very good waitress.  There were several times I only got a penny for a tip, but there was one time I got a joint wrapped up in a napkin, which I thought was pretty cool.  One of the first full time jobs I had was at the AAA office in Evanston, Illinois.  From there, I went to a car rental company outside of O’Hare Airport.  My job was to shuttle people going to and from the airport in a large van. The airport was much smaller back then - today it looks like a city, it's so huge.  I will always remember a salesman from a tuna fish company hitting on me each time he went to the airport.  He was a gross, older man with fat lips and pockets all over his face – and probably married.  I thought he was disgusting and I basically ignored him.  One time, on one of the trips coming out of the airport, I smashed into a small Toyota truck that was sitting in the road and didn’t have his brake lights on.  It was obviously my fault, but I argued with the police that he was just sitting there, in the middle of the road.  Another time, I had a van full of businessmen coming back to the car lot, and as I drove under a bridge, at that exact moment, a huge sheet of ice came crashing down through the windshield.  We all freaked out and I slammed on the brakes but no one was hurt.  Soon after that incident, I was fired.  My boss simply gave me a notice and told me to pack up my stuff – that was my last day.

From there, I went to work for my dad for a very short time, doing odds and ends clerical work.  There was a man who worked there that was giving puppies away and that’s where I got Louie.  He was also a racist and when he found out my boyfriend was black, he called me a “nigger lover” right in the office in front of everybody.  Of course, being the way I was, I had several nasty retorts for him as well and for obvious reasons, I didn’t last very long there.  My dad was really angry that he called me that, but he couldn't fire the guy as he was partners with 2 other people who had hired him.

I've had so many different kinds of jobs.  I've been a waitress twice, driver for the rent a car place, day care provider, claims processor and clerical worker on a construction site, for several different private companies and for government.  I never really wanted to be an administrative support person - I just never went to college to get a better job and that's what paid the bills.  What I really wanted to do was to be an art teacher, but that never panned out because I didn't go to secondary school, except for one semester of junior college.  I barely got through high school - I took my entire junior year in the hospital and I didn’t want to leave when they finally discharged me, but they realized my stay there was too long and I had no choice. I refused to go back to Niles West High School for my senior year, so my parents enrolled me in The Day School, in Chicago - a school for “kids with emotional problems.” It was located on Buena Avenue in an old, beautiful mansion that was used as a school. I had a lot of fun there, as it was very liberal and I only took classes I enjoyed, like art and writing. My writing teacher, Mr. Deutsch and I became good friends.  He was a very caring, loving man and it took me awhile, but I grew to trust him in the end.  I kept in contact with him for a long time after I graduated. The principal was like an old hippie. He and his wife, who was my art teacher, ran the school. I loved art class, but wasn’t crazy about my teacher, who I thought was eccentric and arrogant, although she taught me a lot of different skills. I received my high school diploma from this school, which at the time, could have cared less about.

I met different kids at the Day School, who all became my friends, as it was a small school with only about 30-40 kids. David, who had long, blonde hair and was very strange, had a crush on me and used to hound me all the time, which drove me crazy. I never liked him that way, but I never was good at confrontation like that because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Another boy, Mark, who also liked me, had a very violent temper and was always beating up on David for hounding me. Vickie, a tall, black girl with a bad attitude became my friend also. She was “going” with Kenny Johnson, who also attended the school, and who would eventually introduce me to Jasper, his half-brother. Kenny once said that I was the only white person he ever met that he liked. I guess I took that as a compliment.

I have a few photos of this time period and when I look at them, I am amazed at how I looked.  You would never have recognized me from those photos.  I think about what the other folks would look like today and none of us would probably recognize each other.  Time is harsh on our looks - for most people, that is.  Thank God that is not the quality of a person.  Looks are not the sum of what a person is.  Character and honor and truth is what makes up a person.  What lies deep within the heart of a person is what the person truly is, and this becomes revealed through the person's character, whether good or bad. 

So how does this have anything to do with my mom waking me from a nap this afternoon?  Absolutely nothing.  Except that while some people change from day to day or from year to year, my mom hasn't changed a bit during my entire lifetime.  She still has clothes from the 1960's.  And thankfully, she doesn't do the vacuuming any longer...