Bits and Pieces

The week held many blessings. Monday, I finally got through to the Health Department to make an appointment for the H1N1 shot. The stress surrounding this whole thing is frustrating. I’ve really tried to understand all the missteps and confusion, but mostly I feel just frustration and shame.

(bits and pieces)

Shame because I, like so many others, thought our government was better prepared for something like this. Shame, (and guilt) because of the difficulty getting the shot for so many. It took me with my husband’s help three Mondays working two phones for the hour window to make an appointment for the vaccine.

The first two Mondays, there wasn’t even the chance to get past the busy signal. This Monday, in some ways, it was even worse. We got through right away to the message: “You have reached the Health Department. All the operators are busy helping other callers and we will take your call as soon as possible.” I heard a busy signal, then a dead line. Did I hang up or hang on? Well, twice I hung up. Then I got the same message without the busy signal, but the blank line. I hung on while my husband used his cell phone to keep calling. After forty-five minutes, my son called, saying he’d gotten through and that after the message, he got music, not dead line.

So, my husband continued dialing until he finally got the music, then he held on. Finally, I was able to make my appointment. A blessing.

(bits and pieces)

My sister had the same problem and never got through. Clearly, the phone lines are faulty, or overwhelmed.

When I went to the appointment, I was the only adult getting the shot. There were elderly with health issues and desperate for the shot who didn’t qualify. I felt so ashamed and yet, grateful.

And guilty for feeling so.
(bits and pieces)

I hope we learn from this and never have to have these kinds of choices when it comes to something like this. It shamed me, angered me and I can’t stop thinking about it. My own ninety-two year old mother doesn’t qualify either. I’m lucky; she hasn’t any serious underlying health issues. If she did, I would be beside myself. As it is, I’m anxious.

The health care issue seems to boil down to just that. A priority list of who gets what they need and who doesn’t. That’s just not acceptable. And worse, is this a glimpse of the future?

(bits and pieces)

Onto the reason for the title of this blog— it may mean something a little extra to readers from my generation. I hope it takes the flower power generation back. (the title is from a Dave Clark Five song) And that’s where I’ve been for the last day. Back to the 60’s. A trip, thanks to my middle son with a birthday card as the ticket. From the VW Beetle on the front to the inside verse with 60’s slang. And then, the best part, a CD in the inside pocket with songs from that era. What a wonderful gift.

My children may laugh, imagining their old mom driving around in her robin egg blue Beetle with the pink polka-dots, the love beads, the bell-bottoms, but I remember with a smile. I was so certain of who I was back then. Funny, how as the years go by, I become less sure. Sad, how as you delve elbow deep into diapers, taxi service and bedtime stories, you lose a part of yourself. Thank heaven, you gain something, too.

And, though no one tells you, you’re not lost. Beneath the layers that cover who you were, you are still there. Sometimes, it’s your son, a card and a music tract helps you see you again.

And music is the quickest way to travel back, isn’t it? Music carries you back to the teen years, your children’s little benchmarks, your gains and losses, your successes and failures.

The curious thing: I’ve been working on several poems that I needed to tap my memory of those times. Details are so important. The just-right detail can make the difference between good and great. Those bits and pieces that rise to the top can be teased out by a good song memory.

The things you need for your current work always seem to come. Usually from the last place you expect.

So, crank up the music. Travel back to your past, no matter where it is. Write down your memories. It will make you smile. It will lift you. It will get your fingers moving over the keyboard. And maybe, you’ll even begin a best work.

(I’m in pieces, bits and pieces)