Middle-Aged Women Don't Bounce: The Rest of the Story

 So, now we've come to the end of this tale and it took me so long, it's also almost the end of the year.  This green as the corn farm girl finally figured out how to survive in the working world and did a lot of growing up. 

My wonderful dog, Sparky (yes, he's a lot bigger than Teddy and Pudding!) and me.  August 1977

During our first year, Sharon and I had a good time at the insurance company, well, at least when Martha wasn't looking.  When we were hired, All Casualty Mutual was in the process of building a brand-new home office out in the country, ironically, very near my Aunt Dorothy's farm, on several hundred acres.  They were going to be moving their entire office out to the new location around the spring or early summer of 1977. This was great news, after the move I would not have to drive downtown to go to work anymore and I wouldn't have to walk down those smelly city streets.  My commute time was cut down another fifteen minutes and best of all, the entire trip was now going to be on rural roads.

Yes, I know, are my glasses big enough?  There I am, 18 and a Working Girl

We were all given new identification cards to swipe before we entered the building and I, for one, was thrilled with the new location.  Not everyone was, though.  Many of the employees missed the close proximity of the stores and restaurants at the old office building downtown.   That was when another major change was made, the company gave everyone the option of cutting their lunch break from fifty minutes to thirty, and in some cases, twenty.  Many people went for it, me included, since it meant we would get out of work earlier.   

Shortly after we moved out to the new building, the company had an open house for employees and their families.  My folks and Carl got to come along and get a tour of the place.  It was really something, all white with windows floor to ceiling and skylights with flower beds running the length of the building on the inside.  The beds had Peace Lilies planted in them and some sort of tropical trees.  The new building was only two stories, but it was a sprawling place with curved staircases between floors.  It was an architectural marvel for the time.

These files were just part of my responsibility...there were a LOT more files not pictured, more than you can imagine.  And that would be a non-Martha-approved stance for working. 

There were big developments in my private life, too.  Carl and I became engaged on Valentine's Day, 1977.

Sharon was way ahead of me on that front; she was married in May of that year.  Carl and I went to Sharon and Duke's wedding and had a great time.

Apparently, I had a really good time at the wedding, judging by the way I look in this picture above. Isn't Sharon a beautiful bride? 

Work went on rather well after the insurance firm moved out to the country.  I continued to live at home and worked in the barn, milking cows nights and weekends and doing field work.

Here I'm chopping cornstalks back on the field after Dad had gone through with the cornpicker.  Chopping them down with the greenchopper made it much easier to plow in the fall.  I wish we still had that chopper, but the 574 is still with us.

Carl snuck up on me one day while I was putting bedding down in the stalls and took this picture.  I loved this work.

Carl and I had some free time, too.  He was enrolled in technical school by then and had a year of learning ahead of him.  We did find time to run around and have some fun, though.  Carl had an older car, a 1967 Buick LeSabre that rode like a boat.  Parked next to my Nova, it looked like a yacht.

Carl's ride in 1977, a 1967 Buick Le Sabre  

I could never get him to pose by his car, though he would pose by mine as long as I agreed to also.

Kids!  We were just 18 year old KIDS!  Where did the time go?

No, I did not run over the poor dog, Sparky simply passed out laughing from my silly pose in this picture.

Carl graduated from technical school and found work as metal fabricator in late 1977, and he's been there ever since, thirty-four years.

Carl, 19 years old, visiting at my folk's house after work.  He was over every morning before we went to our respective jobs for breakfast, too.  I've been feeding this character for a very long time.

When I wasn't working on the farm, we would spend our free time on Sunday afternoons wandering the back roads and the woods.  We haven't changed much.  This is still our favorite thing to do.

Me, in some woods somewhere, 18 years old.

Another favorite thing was riding dirt bikes, too.  Here I'm trying out Carl's cousin's bike at Carl's folk's house.

In the fall of 1977, some sad news came my way.  Sharon was expecting her first child and had decided to leave the insurance company.  The news hit me hard.  Yes, I had made other friends, too, and things were going ok, but I was going to miss Sharon so much.  We had fun at work and now it was going to come to an end.  I was in the midst of planning my wedding and asked Sharon to be a bridesmaid.  She agreed.

  In October, we celebrated Sharon's last day with a little luncheon and as was traditional, a gift from the department.  That was a hard day for me.  People came and went a lot in our department, though; it was not unusual.  Judith had long since left for another position in the company.  I didn't miss her.

Finally, September 1978 rolled around and Carl and I got married.  We had so little money, since we were now 20 years old and in the process of building our house, so we hired a friend of Carl's to take our wedding photos using Carl's camera.  We had to cut corners wherever we could.  I bought the second wedding dress I tried on, one that was a 'demo' dress at the bridal shop and the store dry-cleaned for me.  It was pretty enough, and the price was right, $150.

I hadn't seen Sharon since she'd quit the year before until it was time to buy the attendant's dresses.  I had no sisters, so my best friend from childhood, Valerie, was my maid of honor and Sharon and another friend from work, Denise, were my bridesmaids.  We went to the same bridal shop and I picked out pale pink dresses for the girls even though the saleslady had a canary about pink not being the right color for a fall wedding.  I didn't care.  They were on sale and my bridesmaids didn't revolt, so after a half hour shopping session, we were done.  We all made it to the church on time, too.

There's Sharon, on her way down the aisle.  In the balcony above, is my dear, late friend, Connie, who sang at my wedding and my old chorus teacher, Mrs. P, who played the organ.

There's my dad and I, making our way down the aisle, too.  This is the only picture I have of my father and I together on my wedding day.  He had hired a neighbor to milk the cows for him that night and though the man was completely trustworthy, Dad left right after the I do's.  He had to get back home to his cows.  I wish he'd stuck around for just ONE picture afterward, but oh, well.  That's farm life for you.  I understood.

Here's another rare photo: the man on the left is my late brother, Bob, talking to my mother-in-law.  I have so few pictures of him.  With her back to us is my sister-in-law, Mary.  And would you believe one of the few photos I have on my wedding day of my dear mother, the Infamous Elusive Lucille, is the lady in the middle by my brother, looking very tense.  I WISH I had a picture of Mom that showed how beautiful she looked that day, it was the only time she ever wore a formal gown.  The age of digital photography has made taking endless photos an easy thing, but in the days of film and developing costs, pictures were kept to a minimum.  If I could only go back, I know what photos I would take now..........

 1964, my brother Bob, 19, my dad, 51, me, 6 and my mom, 44 in our living room.   This is the only family photo of us all together.  (The spring horse was my birthday present.)

Anyway, back to my wedding and the story at hand...

The new Mrs. and those impossible plaid seats in my Nova.

 We made it out of church and over to a park for photos before driving to the hall for our dance.  Most couples head for a bar to tip a few, but Carl and I were and are hopelessly square.

This is our only 'sort of good' wedding photo of the two of us.  Too bad we didn't pick up the empties from somebody's party the night before.   While we were posing for this shot, the wedding party was milling around.

L-R: Valerie, Duke, Denise, Dan and Sharon

 We were on time for the supper, too, which is always a good thing.

L-R: The pastor and his wife, my dad and mom, Sharon and cousin Dave

After our wedding and a short honeymoon to the most romantic of all honeymoon destinations, fabulous South Dakota and Mount Rushmore, Carl and I both went back to work.

My job with the insurance company went on for just a little over ten years.  Our goal was to get us out of debt and then start a family and be a stay-at-home mom.  Luckily, this was one of the few plans that actually worked out well.  June 1986 rolled around and I found myself very pregnant.  I told my boss I probably wouldn't be coming back.   

How's this for irony?  I was sent down to employment  for an 'exit interview' about a week before I was due to deliver.  When a person left the insurance company's employ, they had a few questions to ask about your work experience.  I waddled down to employment that day with some bittersweet thoughts running through my head.  No, it wasn't the same building I'd had my horrible first day in a decade earlier, and the person I was to be interviewed by wasn't Alice, either, but there was one thing that was the same.

Who do you think gave me my exit interview?

Judith.

I couldn't believe it.  After all these years, I didn't think that would ever happen in a month of Sundays.  I hadn't even realized Judith had ended up working in Employment.  Surprisingly, it was an ok experience, she was bit more friendly this time.  Seems I wasn't the only one who had done some growing up. 

Joel was born the next morning, at 7:13 AM.  The same way I started work almost the day after graduating high school, I started my career in motherhood the day after work.  I was 28 years old.

Joel, 1986.  He's the one in the middle, holding the micrometer.  He did grow up to be a machinist!

Joel and me, Christmas, 1986.  He's six months old here and I'm still 28. 

After I quit working, life was really different.  I didn't know much about raising babies, and poor little Joel would be an experimental test baby for this new experience.  My childhood had been filled with tractors and cows, not babies and diapers (I'd never babysat or changed a diaper until I had Joel) and I had a lot of learning to do.  Thank goodness my mom was able to help me through the worst of the first few days and ever-patient Carl, was a huge help, too. 

In four years' time, David made his appearance and our little family was complete.

David, six months old, 1990

 As anyone who has had children knows, their growing up years simply fly by.  I was so lucky to be able to stay at home and enjoy those years, it's something I've never regretted.  Sure, we had little money after going down to one paycheck for any luxuries, but what a small price to pay for time so precious.  Time like this I'd never get back.  You can't put a price on it.

When our kids were growing up, Sharon and I got together only a few times.  She and Duke only live about thirty miles away, but for some reason or another, we didn't visit back and forth much, except to surprise her on her 50th birthday party a few years back.  We always wrote to each other at Christmas, though.  How I treasured each and every letter from her.

So, fast forward to a night this past October 2011.  Carl and I were out on a ride in the Clintonville area, doing some geocaching with Joel.  One of the roads we crossed looked so familiar and I said to Carl, "Isn't that where Sharon and Duke live?"

Joel drove down their dead end road and turned in the driveway.  I had second thoughts after we drove in, we hadn't called ahead and I didn't know if they'd mind us barging in.   There was Duke, sitting on a bench by his back door in the dark.  He didn't seem surprised in the least to see who it was come to bother them on a Sunday night. Sharon came out of the house and we hugged. We had such an enjoyable night talking and vowed we'd not let so much time elapse before getting together again.

I forgot to mention something else here:  Sharon is my most devoted blog reader bar none.  She doesn't comment because she's got computer issues, but she apparently reads EVERY word I write, dear woman that she is.  I can't tell you what that means to me, either, because I'm frankly amazed anyone is reading my extended ruminations at the keyboard.

So, now FINALLY I am going to get to the Middle-aged women don't bounce thing and what happened to my poor, sad tailbone:  Sharon invited us over to play cards on December 11th.  Joel was able to come along too, because his girlfriend was working and Ann was also able to attend.  We were having a great time playing cards until I decided I needed to use the restroom.  Since there were so many of us, we had to pull the table out from the wall a little which made it difficult to get around unless someone stood up.  I waited until Sharon was up tending to something before I used the facilities.

On my way back to my seat at the table, I remembered she'd said a person could go around through another door to get back to the kitchen, so not wanting to inconvenience anyone, I thought I'd do just that.  Unfortunately, it was a bit dark in the hallway I was in and I thought the door in front of me was the right way to go.  It wasn't.  I took a step forward and the next thing I knew I was going down the basement steps on my behinder.  (Yes, it's ample, but not ample enough, apparently.)  Oh, that hurt.   I had surgery on my backside years and years ago, and the area is always tender, so this was definitely not on my list of Fun Things To Do.

Thumpity, thump, thump, thumpity, thump, thump, look at Karen go!  Thumpity, thump, thump, thumpity, thump, thump all the way down the stairs she goes!  (Just thought I'd throw in a Christmas tune.)

Poor Sharon was horrified and ended up giving me all sorts of things to help her defrost from her freezer.  (The frozen coconut was very good, by the way, very flexible.)  I know she feels terrible about this, and so do I.  We were having so much fun until I decided to try sledding down her basement stairs sans a sled.  The bruises are now starting to fade a little, but I had some very impressive ones.  Carl said he was glad I didn't go into the doctor, because I looked pretty gruesome.  He didn't want to appear on America's Most Wanted.  I did call the clinic though, and their advice was pretty straightforward, regardless if it was broken or not, there's not much they can do about it.  Time heals all.  Even middle-aged women's derrieres.  It will be quite some time before I can plop down in a chair and not look like I'm checking for a hidden porcupine first, but it's much better than it was.  I'm a tough old gal.

Some great things have come out of this though, I've talked to Sharon more in the last few weeks than I have in years.  It's just like the old days again.  And in her Christmas card that arrived today, she said we're definitely going to have a rematch at Sheepshead, too.  (I bet they will  put up a barricade and flashing lights to deter me from the stairs.)

So, what have I learned? 

Me, 1959.  Just over a year old on (gasp) a staircase. 

 Middle-aged women don't bounce very well........... 

but there is no such thing as too many friends, old and new, near and far.

I am blessed.

Thank you all for your friendship, it means so much!

And may you all have a Very Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year!

Karen