Writing the truth about my friends is starting to be harder then I’ve expected.Especially when it comes to Jola, who was so full of silliness that I really cannot distinguish between the stuff that we made up as little children vs. what really has happened...

She has been such an influence in my life, and we have shared so many adventures, that as I have been working on this story I have come to the realization that only a trilogy: one for Przemek, one for Jola and the last one for Artur can really barely scratch the surface of our history.

When it came time to write about Przemek the decision was quick and to the point. He was going to return in all the blogs from this point forward, since we have been friends since we where five, Jola came into our lives as soon as we started school and we were like the 3 Musketeers (we even dressed like them on special occasions), but how can one describe the last 27 years of their life in a short "internet based" story?

Wait! I have a Great Idea!!!

Except that, when she came to America for the very first time, at the age of 19 and James and I pick her up , it was more like the ending scene from Grease. The struts on his small Ford had the scars to prove it.

It’s amazing that we did not get pulled over by cops.

A pure miracle is that we did not cause a major crash, as his compact Ford escort sped on the highway bouncing from top to bottom and from side to side, while very excited Polish girls were jumping up and down in it screaming out of the windows:

"We’ll always be together…"

Right before Jola came I spent the time to record this song over and over on both sides of a 60 minute tape.

We both thought that it was well worth it. James suspension that he had to get replaced shortly afterwards did not agree with our opinion.

Opps, but now I am getting well ahead of myself… That time when she came to The States and the both of us decided to try out to be homeless for 2 days, just so we can then later write about it, well, this was 12 years already to our friendship.

Yes, we did live at the Union Station for two days. This experience really did not enlighten us, as we thought it would. We did not want to beg for change, not to take anything away from the real homeless. The real homeless folks did not really take us in as one of them, because both of us had very strong accents, and they just did not believe that two young Polish chicks could be homeless…

"Foreign people are very smart…" one dude told us. "They always come to this country and make the best of it…"

Come to think of it, it is true, and I do not think it was so bright of two girls from a strange country to live on a train station by themselves. If Arthur, or Przemek was with us it might have been little safer. But the both of us survived the homlessness and the car ride.

The beginning looked more like The Muppet Show.

Yep, the 3 of us loved the "Muppet show", and Pigs in the Space was always the highlight of it.

Latter on we would build our own rocket ship, and fly it in our back yard yelling; yes, you’ve guessed it:

"Pigs in the Space!"

At that time we’d yell it in very broken English, with a very distinctive broken accent.

Come to think of it this was the only English that we knew at the time, but we did it anyways.

Not sure why, but till about the age 13, we always thought that there was some secret meaning in that silly phrase, that each great adventure, long after we grew out of the phase of building Rocket Ships, and pretending to be part of the Muppet crew, had to begin by us yelling these silly words.

We did it before each major test, it drove the teachers crazy.

We did it when the train pulled us towards camp somewhere in the mountains.

We ended our graduation ceremony in the same fashion… and when Jola called me from the hospital to tell me about the birth of little Adam… Yep! Those were the first would that came out of my mouth.

Other then that I was really speechless.

My Jola, at 20… became a MOTHER.

Shortly afterwards she moved back to Poland. And I have no idea how to find her, just the father of Adam, her son.

Artur has really spent the last month looking for her and Piotr Debicki, but so far nothing has happened, except for the fact that I do have a copy of a picture of her and I sitting in one desk, just so that the memory of this could comfort me.

Picture that he has guarded for me for over 20 years.

This might sound really boring for some, but if you ever find a friend that is willing to fill his space with your personal belongings just in case he ever found the planet on which you might now live, and if he found that your laughter has changed into tears, he was going to wipe them off the cheeks for you, well he is no longer The Little Prince.

And although he still has the original copy of this magic book, that I have left with him so that he can learn all about grown ups in it, but instead he has memorized it for me, just in case I have forgotten how to be childlike, and has been reminding me many wonderful truths about life from it.

And not just from it, but also from his heart and wisdom.

You see, 17 years ago, when we parted our ways in Krakow; he was still The Little Prince who decided to take off with some wild birds.

Each night, I would look into the skies and think about him as the star that he has given me for my 15^th Birthday, has never left my site.

Then 9 years after we have last seen each other, on my 27^th Birthday (I have last seen him on my 18^th B-Day) I got a small tribal tattoo on my right arm.

It is a tribal band not made with flames and dragons of some sort. It is tribal bad made of Forget-Me-Knots.

(He got his on his left arm, 12 years ago ... No flowers though I hope, but with him one never knows ;-) )

I did this because each night when I thought how he would smile thinking about some time when I have dragged him to a nursing home so that he could play the piano for some lonely people, or the time when I was in Med School and we broke into a morgue because I really had know what the dead people looked like when I was to become a real health care professional, well all of the stars where laughing with me thinking about those days.

When I would be cold and lonely, and think that these memories where meaningless to him… well these memories would turn into tears.

Artur grew up, as most of you expected. He is a grown up now, that still tells me the story, of one beautiful morning when I was 8 years old, he got called into a dentist’s office because I was getting my tooth pulled out. (For the first time in my life)

-Where you holding my hand? - I ask him as I remember it vaguely.

-No Anitka, - he say’s chuckling – Jola was there already holding your hand.   

The School Dentist came and got me in the middle of math, so that I could help hold your head down for her...-

-Did I look scared? - I ask as I don’t like to think that I could ever be a coward.          

And Artur laughs some more, and starts telling me, how brave I looked and how cooperative I was with blood and saliva running down my chin… and then he tells me that I did so well, and he was glad that he was there for me.

And so was Jola, but in reality we just don’t know where she’s at.                      

We dream however of getting her back!

 

Because of all of this, during this worst time ever in my life, I am still looking at my star that is really called Arcturus.

For me ALL of the stars will laugh forever and ever.                                   

And it’s not just because the Sheep did not consume the pretty little Rose. They will laugh because there is such thing as an unconditional, blind and child like LOVE.

I am planning on adding another book to my collection. I will set it on my shelf right next to The Little Prince and A Prayer for Owen Meany. It’s going to be book from which I will hopefully learn more about men.

A book called "King Arthur" !

"A dream is the only real reality in life because it belongs to you. An imagination develops both the aspects of the dream and also gives you the motivation to make your dreams a reality, and the purpose of it is to share that reality with others.

Remember to always give more than you take in life, and never stop dreaming."- Another life lesson from the grown-up who reminds me of how wonderful I was when I was a child.

Od samego rana zalatwialam wazne sprawy z Jamesem. Wozil mnie po claym miescie i pomagal mi uwolnic sie. Czulam sie troszeczke jak niewolnik, ktoremu po pierwsze przyjacie pomaga uciec od swoich wlascicieli, ale z drugiej strony walczy o wolnosc tych ktorzy pozostali na plantacji...

To znaczy moje dzieci.

Nie sa na plantacji, bo stan je ma pod opieka, i zobaczyc je moge dopiero w poniedzialek, chyba ze przypadkowo zobacze je w kosciele, bo wzieli je do siebie do domu moi znajomi... ALE aby nie plakac z tego powodu to bez przery wymyslamy sobie rozne dowcipy.

Na przyklad Dzajmes nie moze sie doczekac kiedy zobaczy zdjecie Artura. On sam ma aspiracje na fotografa, i bardzo lubi ogladac zdjecia... i nie moze zrozumiec ze ja nie umieram z ciekawosci.

A ja mu na to:

1. Po pierwsze ja ZNAM Artura i to mi wystarczy.

2. Po drugie, jak James sam ze zdjec pamieta to Artur zawsze byl malym chlopcem i pomimo tego ze mi powiedzial ze wyglada na 50 lat i ogolil sobie glowe to wcale nie znaczy ze sie zmienil.

3. Po trzecie, ja ze swoja fryzura tak sie zmieilam ze jak ide kupowac fajki to mnie legitymuja... i nie dam zadnych nowych swoich zdjec na ta ani inna strone jusz nigdy, chyba ze w koncu zobacze jakies zdjecia... Ha ha ha!!!

4. Ostatnie co mu tlumacze to to co mowil lis z Malego Ksiecia: dobrze widzi sie tylko sercem.

Ale James jest bardzo ciekawy i bes przerwy zgaduje jak Artur wyglada biorac pod uwage jak wygladali jego rodzice 17 lat temu. Na poczcie, gdy zmienialismu moj adress, bo oficjalnie zamieszkalam u niego zobaczylismu znaczek ze zdjeciem Jody z Gwiezdnych Wojen.

"O zobacz... to pewnie Artur!" madry... dostojny... niski i lysy

"Tylko ze Joda nie gral na trabie!" I dalej jedziemy w kraine doroslych.

James sie mna bardzo opiekuje. Pilnuje mnie abym brala lekarstwa, pilnuje abym jadla i pila soki. (Jak przywiezli mnie do szpitala to mialam bardzo malo potassu we krwi...)

Podczas drugiego snaidania porownywalam swoj wdziek i kobiecosc, do wdzieku i kobiecosci Kramera z Jerry Sinfeld Show. Taki warjat z potargana czupryna, ktory zawsze cos glupiego palnie w nieodpowiednim momecie.

James jest Georgem... Po piciu chyba galonu wody mineralnej, bo James mnie leczy woda mineralna, bardzo czesto musze biegac do lazienki... W WC tesz myslalam sobie o tym jakim jestem komicznym charakterkiem. Gdy wstalam z porcelanowego tronu, i mylam rece przy zlewie to uslyszalam glos kobiety w drugiej ubikacji, ktora byla czyms bardzo wstrzasnieta:

"Przepraszam bardzo..." Wolala mnie o pomoc. "Czy mogla by sie pani podzielic ze mna papierem toaletowym?"

Pomoglam jej, i aby nie bylo jej przykro to nawet sie nie smialam, ale przypomnialy mi sie wtedy stare, wspaniale czasy jak w Polsce stalo sie w kolejkach, bardzo dlugich zreszta aby muc kupic ten niezbedna do zycia papier...

Bede jusz konczyc, bo jestem w bibliotece i tak naprawde to przyszlam tu po ksiazki...

Anita 

Dla: Artura, Moniki, Rebeki i Jamesa (i Joli jesli sie uda...)

Od: Anity

 

Czasami wydaje mi sie ze jestem dzieckiem cyrku.

Urodzic sie musialam podczas wystepow.

Bylam jednym z aktow przedstawienia, czyli jak czlowiek armata wyskoczylam z lona swojej matki jak z armaty.

Gdy tylko armate opuscilam to unioslam sie ku sofitu namiotu cyrkowego , a wszyscy lekarze i pielegniarki bili mi brawo. Widowisko bylo to o niesamowitym napieciu, z olbrzymia orkiestra, trabami i blaskiem kolorowych swiatl.

W swoim locie podnioslam rece ku niebiosom, setki metrow ponad glowami widowcow. Zapach prazonej kukurydzy i potu slonow dotarl do moich nozdrzeli.

Wetedy to wlasnie zauwazylam ze bardzo powaznie przygladaly mi sie wszystkie klalny cyrkowe.

Kalpaly mi bardzo glosno przy tym wszystkim, jakby zaskoczone moim wdzienkiem i figura.

-Anita! Anita!- wszyscy krzycza dopingujac mi mojej cztuczce akrobackiej.

Trzymaja sie mocno w swoich krzeselkach, oczy wszyscy wybaluszaja.

Potem jest jakis chalas i zgrzytanie zebow.

(Chwileczke panie i panowie, czy jestesmu w cyrku czy na boisku? Mecz pilki noznej? "Arka Gdynia vs. Stany Zjednoczone"?)

Gdy moje palce jusz prawie dotknely szczytu, robie w powietrzu fikolka i mam zamiar zakonczyc lot.

Dopiero w tym momecie czuje niesamowita grawitacje jaka ma w sobie planeta na ktorej mieszkamy.

Planeta ZIEMIA.

Otwieram wlasnie swoje oczy i widze ze KTOS ukradl cyrkowa trampoline.

A ZIEMIA coraz bliska.

Wiec, bedac czlowiekiem rozsadnym zadaje sobie nastepujace pytania:

-Po jaka cholere jast nam cyrk?-

-Dlaczego kobieta powinna wyskakiwac z armaty?-

-Dlaczego oklaski widowni powoli ucichaja?-

I:

-Z calego towazystwa tylko ja jestem paramedykiem wiec... Kto mnie uratuje?-

 

Whenever I heat this song on the radio, she is the first person that comes to my mind...

 

 

She is the first baby that I have a conscious memory of discovering, the one that took my place of being the "youngest in the family" spot for 7 years, and the one that also has saved my life when she was only 3.

No wonder that she's an awesome medical doctor now, who practices medicine in Chicago.

So if you ever happen to find yourself in a crowded emergency room in one of the Chicago suburbia's, and you hear a loud voice paging for assistance over the hospitals' paging system:

"Doctor Boska to the emergency room STAT!"

Sit still and do NOT give into the urge of running away and screaming for help.

It is not I that will come in and 'SAVE YOU'.

They are calling for my "sister –from – uncle" aka "cousin " Malgosia.

Unlike myself, not only that she graduated from the Polish Medical School, but she also went through the pain of getting her medical license recognized here in America.

So, with the exception of being forced to work about 80 hr. a week (I only do it on very special occasions), she's all good. Not only good, but really awesome.

After all she IS Boska.

So our story begun on one sunny day, when my Grandma Lala took me to see her. She was small, kind of red and cried a little. I must admit: I was not happy about the arrival, because, as I've mentioned earlier: until her, I was the baby in the family.

We all lived together in a beautiful, old house that was located in a middle of a huge garden with a real orchard.  For a while there were no other houses near our to really speak of. This is why I precisely remember one summer day, when the fields behind our back yard started getting leveled with some scary looking agricultural equipment. And then the masons showed up to put up some new construction. My companions and I where very upset about this very upsetting situation.

My companions mainly consisted of my older sister Agnes, and Bartek... of course.

To make even matters worst, Malgosia started walking on her own at that time, and my well meaning grandparents expected us to play with her.

In relatively short period of time, from the large mounds of construction materials a house was erected. As soon as it appeared in our horizon, a young family moved in. This family had the guts to bring their kids! (Two younglings, about our age). These kids had the guts to ask us everyday if they could play with us in OUR orchard or if they could perhaps play in the shell of our trusty Citroen (You just have to read the blog: Turkey called Fillip).

Ok, I am sure that your face now is beet red, and you really feel the fury that we where filled with, so I have to caution you right about now. It gets better! I mean worst... But please, do not get so upset that you'll get on Travelocity, and on a whim purchase a ticket to Poland, just so you can go and beat the living… out of my grandmothers neighbors.                            

And James, my grandma really wants to meet you, but please, no more blood shed in her back yard… Just forget this story as soon as you are done reading it… Promise me?

So get this:

Growing up we all knew that before the wars our family was royal. Really? Really. The commies stripped everyone of their titles when they took over the country, but if it was not for the reds I could be a duchess of some sort… we had the family history books and all.

Also, as most royals go, our family's last name had a meaning.

BOSKA means divine in Polish.

Our new neighbors had a meaningful last name as well.                              

 

Theirs was SEREK.

"What does SEREK mean?" you're probably asking by now.

Serek is a type of cheese.

Not the nice and HARD type like Gouda, or Cheddar, Mozzarella or even semi hard like Munster. IF it was a decent, quality kind of cheese, it would be of course called SER. (Polish 101, your very welcome…)

SEREK is, my dear faithful friends, merely a stinking Framers Cheese!

Yes, thank you for your deep sympathy… and I know that you see the dilemma very clearly now.

We, the little Divine kids, just could not bring ourselves down to such mortal level, and play with the kids called "Farmers Cheese".

Therefore we had to establish some solid rules, policies, write many manifestos, and after lengthy meetings and paw wows in one of the many attics of grandmother's house, we have decided that the kids in the back yard were our arch enemies.

This was a great back yard war.

As in any wars, one needs spies.

Malgosia was very little. She could easily fit in the smallest of cracks in our fence, and therefore was elected as our spy. There was only one little problem:

She could not talk very well.                                                                                                         

So no matter what she came back with to report to us, we always got very angry, and ran around in a fury.

Then we gathered small rotten apples, small rocks and hardened lumps of mud, and we bombed the neighbors house on regular basis.

The war with the Farmers Cheese family went on for years!

We were hoping that eventually they would get tired of our aggression and persistence, move out, so that a family with good last name could move into our neighborhood, however, as soft as their last name was, their spirits must be lot harder.

Malgosia went to visit Grandma with her kiddies last summer, and she, the faithful spy, came back with decipherable information this time:

"Serki still live in the back of Grandmothers house…"

You have no idea how badly I wanted to jump on the next plane to Poland and just… but I could not. Job, finances, school, the girls and the threat of being locked up in a mental hospital (again), suppressed my fury.

In between the war time, we played from sunrise to sunset. Malgosia always getting in the middle of things, tattle telling on us, as soon as she learned how to speak.

The spy thing must have really gone to her head by then, because I could not bring into a house a frog, not wash my hands before dinner, not flush the toilet, with out my grandma knowing exactly what kind of mischief I was getting myself into.

I have blamed many spankings, and many cartoon less nights on just based on the fact that she existed.

Until one faithful day, when she, at the age of 3, thanks to her constant ratting gift:

Saved my Life.

When I was growing up I wanted to be a pilot. Not just a pilot. I wanted to fly. The smallest thought of being up in the clouds, chasing birds or chainsaws… looking at God's wonderful earth fascinated me. At the age of 5 I was convinced, that if I just tried hard enough, and believed in myself with all of my heart… I could fly with out the assistance of any mechanical devices.

So after taking few lessons from Agnes, who was 7 at the time, both of us climbed on top of my grandmother's roof.

There, after flopping my hands really fast, and giving myself enough distance for a good take- off, I got ready to be airborne.

My grandmother was baking. Her big farmhouse style table was facing the kitchen window. There was a wonderful breeze in the air (after all I was no dummy and was going to take advantage of the summertime breeze), and she just poked her head out of the window to take it all in. This is when she heard Malgosia crying.

"Why are you crying sweetheart?" she asked, as she always was moved by our tears.

"Anitka is going to fly away from the roof, and she does not want to take me with!!!" Malgosia started wailing really hard.

My Grandmother is 95 years old now. This was 30 years ago, so she was 65 then.

I have no idea how did she ever manage to show up on that roof within split seconds!

I do remember however, the spankings that came shortly after.

I was never allowed to climb 2^nd story roofs as long as my grandmother lived. And she still does, so please don't tell her if you see me at work on top of one of them. OK?

I was 13 years old when my parents divorced. This meant not only an end to my wonderful times in at my Grandparents.

I completely lost contact with Malgosia until I was 28.

What's really interesting is that upon our reunion I found very interesting things:

Same spiritual gifts, same passions, same educational background.

It gets even better.

We read the same books, love the same songs, rock climb, and love to travel, love the same movies…

Life and carrier sucks the same amount of energy from us, and we both want to be really good mothers, but our carriers really mark our existence here on earth.

Going to her house for dinner, I find myself eating from the same plates that I have in my house, yet it's not like we compared notes or anything… I sit at a table identical to mine, and stare at the same pictures that I have hung up on my walls… We even inherited the same furniture from our in-laws and our kid's bedrooms have identical furniture.

I always believed in stories about identical twins being separated at birth, growing up the same way thousands of miles between them… But cousins? Dean, you know the both of us… What do you think?

One thing is for certain, one thing that I cannot take for granted.

That 2 story fall, would have been the end of me.

With out Malgosia, there would be no blogs, no friends, no crazy adventures… The story of my life would have ended that summer day.

With out Malgosia, there would be no ME.

And that is one of the reasons why I love you Malgosia… Thank you for everything!!!

PS

He younger sister and my brother Peter were born on the same day. Both of them simultaneously took over the spot of being the youngest in the family… And that was very important, as it dictated the place where you sat during dinner. So Piotrek and Ewa sat right next to each other… Oh, how I miss those dinners…

 

 

The North Pole, or so called The Arctic is a vast, ice-covered ocean.                          

It is surrounded by tree-less, frozen ground, that teems with life, including organisms living in the ice, fish and marine mammals, birds, land animals and human societies.                                                                                                           

My favorite of the last one being Mrs. and Mr. Clause and their lively, little army of Elves that work for free in his toyshop. It is not slavery of any sort in my opinion. The Elves really enjoy their work, they get to express themselves creatively, and they live in wonderful harmony with nature and it’s cold, snowy wonders such as the Sasquatch Snowman. No one is holding them against their will, and they have a lifetime supplies of mints and chocolates.

This region of the planet, north of the Arctic Circle, includes the Arctic Ocean, Greenland, Baffin Island, other smaller northern islands, and the far northern parts of Europe, Russia (Siberia), Alaska and Canada.

In the mid winter months, the sun never rises and temperatures can easily reach lows of - 50º F in the higher latitudes. This lasts for more then 4 months at a time. In the summer months (further south), 24 hours of sunlight a day melts the seas and topsoil, and is the main cause of icebergs breaking off from the frozen north and floating south, causing havoc in the shipping lanes of the north Atlantic.

The primary residents of the Arctic include the Eskimos, Saami and Russians, with an overall population (of all peoples) exceeding 2 million. The indigenous Eskimos have lived in the area for over 9,000 years.

The first explorers of the Arctic were Vikings. Norwegians visited the northern regions in the 9th century, and Erik the Red (Icelander) established a settlement in Greenland in 982. In 1909, after numerous attempts by regional explorers, Robert E. Peary reached the North Pole.

 

Now, how lucky for my little girls, that region is inhabited by my big brother Bartek.

 

I know how confusing this may get for some, but back home we use to live in tight night communities. Bartek is not a child of any one of my parents, but a child of my father’s brother. Even though in the US he would be referred to as a first cousin, in my family, his official title is “The Brother from an Uncle” or Brat Stryjeczny.

Oh, how many looks and laughs do I get when I attempt to decipher the relationships between people?

“Well, it’s because you did not grow up in this country is the final answer that is usually offered, but sometime I think that it’s just a simple cop-out.

Let’s face it people! Blood relations are worthless if there are no bonds created between people, and one can be a brother only in something. Where there is no tie that binds men, men are not united but merely lined up.

 

Bartek is my brother, not because we share genetics. He is my big brother, because we grew up under one roof, and shared our childhood adventures.

When both of our fathers were out to the sea, we studied geography, science and astronomy together.

And together we always played…

Bartek is mentioned in my “Turkey called Fillip” story, and he is the one that always encouraged me to draw and write.

Yes, when the grownups would often question my fascination of drawing pictures of snakes, and boxes… He’d ask me to show him my newest piece of art.

 

He was bigger, so none of my painting have ever terrified him, but he would always have a head full of childish pranks.

I remember once, when I got a pretty little purse for Christmas, the next morning he filled it to the brim with nasty fish guts! I was never able to use that gift again… And perhaps this is why I never carry a purse??? Who knows…

 

Every night, there’s a riot at my house right after dinner. The girls and I sit down in front of the computer, and log onto the internet… We wait there for uncle Bartek to start his night watch, and log himself onto the internet. Ach… What a marvel. I know that this will make me sound like such a dork, but I really believe that the instant transport of the e- mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures-in this century as in others our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together.

And how wonderfully it brings us together:

 

Imagine this.

My 3 little girls are sitting in front of the computer, looking at the images from The North Pole, and their uncle’s face. He tells them of the wonders that he has seen near Santa’s Village, and the reindeer training for their Night Flight.

“If you don’t help you’re Mommy,” he tells them “I am going to have to have a talk with the old man…”

 

I have not seen Bartek since my 18^th B-day, but over this service that we are currently using, not only that we get to hear him crystal clear, but he get to see his bright face smiling as well… Sometimes he takes his web cam around the ship, and shows the girls the ins and outs of his hard work in the rough environment… And there we are separated by a whole different world, we spend time together, and laugh together continuously.

Sometimes folks will give me feedback that I do not take anything seriously…

I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously, in fact. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave - and nothing but laughter to console them with. Times spent chatting with Bartek, are times spent making great pans for the future. Out of the whole world, he is the only other person that loves my brother as much as I do, and respects my Father as much as I do. He is helping me bring everyone together. We are both counting days to our happy reunion.

 

We also bring back tons of different memories. It’s funny how from perspective of time, we tend to see things worlds apart. I sometimes think it’s simply because memory is a monster; you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you! Good thing I have Bartek.

There are 3 profound things I have learned from my big brother:

1.    Hang on tight when your sledding through wilderness. Don’t let go of the rope, no matter how cold your fingers are

2.    No matter how right you might think you are, and how important is your cause… Never cast the first stone. But once you get hit, don’t be afraid to fight back, and Never be afraid to call out for help

3.    Brotherhood will stay alive, despite of any distance, time and years passed by. Brotherhood is the truest form of love that we can share and this true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow.

 

Merry Christmas Bartek! I love you!!!

Okay… I'll admit it. I've got an artsy streak. Beneath the exterior of this big chested blond, mini-van drivin', dog-lovin', broken-down old corporate tree hugger lays the heart of an artist.

Not that I actually have many artistic capabilities, but art moves me.

Paintings. Dance. Drama. Poetry. Architecture.

Something deep inside of me responds to that kind of creativity.

Of all the art forms, music and movies touch me the most.

I find myself awestruck by haunting melodies, creative chord structures, and tight harmonies.

And I love songs that tell the kind of stories that stir your heart- the ones you just want to sing over and over again. Maybe that's why I'm an industrial music fan. (I know, I know- just when I was doing my best to make you think that I was really artsy!)

I am really a sucker for a well crafted line and compelling dialogue. In fact I do not so much WATCH a good move, as I LIVE IT.

To say that I tend to get emotionally involved isn't the half of it.

When a movie combines great writing with great photography, great acting, great directing, great soundtracks, and great story lines- well it can literally make me cry.

A Beautiful Mind just wrecked me. I've watched it shortly after coming home from the hospital, after I got very ill.

Big Fish had me sobbing for many weeks. My father is a brilliant traveler, who always had fantastic stories to tell me when I was growing up and who was missing for 10 years at the time when I watched that film. I had no idea if he was still alive, so as the credits rolled at the end, I sat paralyzed in my seat, sobbing like a kid really missing her dad. (And I still do.)

I cried at City of Angels, when Meg could not save her patients life. I lost it through out the entire What Dreams May Come, as I think it was the best ever told story about true love. The Second Hand Lions, and The Sand Lot have me balling each time that I watch it with my little girls, and just last Friday I had hard time leaving the theater after drowning myself in Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. Both Schindler's List, (in which my sailing buddy, great childhood friend Bartek (Lech) Niebielski has a major role) and Hotel Rwanda moved my God-instilled sense of justice and made me sit and think for a very long time as I wiped the tears from my face.

Believe it or not, I even cried during Dumb and Dumber. Cried during Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Cried during The Magicians and Morons from Outer Space. Tears just ran down my face because I could not stop laughing at how incredibly stupid and funny those films where.

So what about you? What are your all-time favorite movies? And if you had to pick just one what would it be?

Hard, isn't it?

My heart races from Braveheart (I am ready to paint my face blue, put on a kilt, and fight for Scotland), and I get equally excited over Speed. (I cannot even remember how many times I have drooled over it with Monica at the dollar movie theater… Ah, Keanu Reeves...)

But IF I had to name my all-time favorite, I am real clear what it would be.

I have both read and watch the whole thing over and over, and each time walked away from it thinking:

"I believe that this might be the most creative, well put together, clever, thought provoking, emotionally heart- tugging, best-acted move I've have ever seen in my life."

And I didn't just admire the artistry or enjoyed the entertainment.

I have learned from it some very profound things.

Four things to be exact:

"Life is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're gonna get"

Not all moments in life are crème-filled, are they?

"Stupid is as stupid does." And that stupid has nothing to do with your IQ, but everything that has to do with your character, honesty, your decision making abilities, and your propensity for promise keeping.

The third thing I learned is especially freeing for me, as a big part of my carrier is public speaking and teaching.

I learned that I did not have to work so hard anymore on the conclusion of my lectures- from that point forward, I could just finish up with:

"That's all I have to say about that."

Forrest Gump is one of those movies that gripped my heart and made me think a lot about life.

Do I keep my word no matter what?

Do I love  the people in my life in an unconditional way?

Do I show respect for everyone, no matter their color, race, rank, intelligence or ignorance?

Would I be candid enough to say,

"I might not be a smart woman, but I know what love is…" ?

There is a riveting scene at the end of the movie. Forest's wife  Jenny, who made a lot of unwise choices in her life, dies at the age of 35.

Forrest is standing at her grave and says to her, "You died on a Saturday morning, and I had you placed here under our tree." He talks about what's going on in his life, how their little son is doing and how much he misses her. Then he begins to reflect on life and considers a question that really marked me.

He wonders if his momma, or Lieutenant Dan had it right:

"Do we have a destiny, or are we all just floating around kinda accidental like, as a feather on a breeze?"

When I heard him say that, I have realized that this is a question that everyone who ever walks this planet has to come to grips with.

And then another question is born, out of the conclusion to the first one:

"How big of a role, the people we where blessed with in our journey, have played in us finding ourselves from our childhood to where we are at?"

True Friends, no matter how lost during our earthly journey, for ever live in our hearts, shape our souls and live their destinies parallel to ours. It's true! I have been finding it our through the modern marvel of our society.

The Internet:

At the end of 1997 I have had an Organizational Wizard (Cheep attempt of a REAL PDA). In it I have kept all of the contact information for my beloved chums, as I have figured it was lot better then an old-fashoned  phone book.

I have moved a LOT during that time. Frequently changed not only the towns where I have lived, but also phone numbers, jobs and reference lists.

One morning, when opening my techno- gizmo, to call my buddy Darek, I have gotten a warning that my battery was about to die. One warning… that was all…

The next time when I pressed the "ON" button, everything was gone.

I have moved to Rockford, and lost hope of ever running into thouse, that have helped to shape who I am.

That was 10 years ago. Today, with the help of the internet, I have been able to get in touch with most of the people that I have missed so much. Last week, I was blessed to hear the 'bell ringing ' laughter of Monika. It was as if thousands of bell where ringing, and then, late at night, thousands of stars where laughing… Just knowing that my wonderful friend is back in my life!

And then I got inspired. I decided to write my own screen play. One from real life, with the people who have impacted me as the main characters… each one of them in their own blog. In order for anyone not to feel excluded, I will write the blogs in order that they first appeared in my life, as all of them are tremendously important.

So there will be blogs about:

Bartek, Malgosia, Przemek, Jola, Artur (already typed up, but will make some changes to it…), Lech, Wojtek and Viciu, Luiza, Becky, Butch, James, Monika, Darek 1, Darek 2, Sandy, Aubrey, Louie… Even Charlie will get his own blog.

Man, that's a LOT of stories to type… but at the end I think it will be well worth it.

It's a gift, and a monument to those that have helped me not to become too accidental like.

Love you all! - Anita

 

Go figure!

My days at the potato chip factory are all accounted for, and as I’m desperately trying to finish up some last minute projects… well they where not last minute until I found out that I am going to be leaving… My life just had to turned into chaos and disorder.

It all started last Tuesday with my brother leaving rehab w/o completing the program.

He lasted an astounding two weeks. Because he’s violating his probation for doing so, he is facing a pretty hefty jail sentence.

On Wednesday one of my workers was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer… He has an 18 month old child… his wife lost her first husband to leukemia, and during the consult with the specialist they where told to get his life in order because just like in the first case he was too going to pass on.

After both of them left my office I was cursing so loud that my boss came running:

“What happened Anita?”

“Can you believe the doctor? He told them that he was going to die!”

“Was he to lie to them or something…” my boss is a great friend of mine. Perhaps this is why he lets me curse like a sailor.

“No… He did not HAVE TO lie, but he should have focused on the positives.”

“Such as…”

“I am not sure… yet…”

“When you come up with an answer, would you please let me know, because I for one would like to how to focus on the positives in this particular situation.”

So I though of the positives up until Thursday night:

Two weeks ago my water heater blew up. I was waiting for this tragedy sine I’ve bought this house 5 years ago, but the timing of it’s death could have not been worst…

I replaced it with a new, environmentally friendly, energy efficient, tree hugger approved, capable of heating water for the entire Rockford, brand spanking new… TANKLESS WATER-WONDER.

There was one thing though in this earth-friendly decision that I did not considered.

Finding a plumber that knows how to retrofit my marvel into the 100 year old house that I live in. Even willing to knock down a wall or two in my basement, I still cannot find any one that knows HOW TO install a tank-less water heater.

So for the last two weeks I have been doing what I have learned in the old country: Boiling water in large quantities to take a bath.

It was about 9pm last Thursday.

I just got done pouring 20 gallons of melting lava into my tub, when Charlize (the baby of the bunch) decided to get out of bed to brush her teeth…

Ann Marie then followed her to show me her first pimple.

“Stay away from the bath tub…” I firmly announced to the both of them, and while examining the zit on my little princess’s face in the slow motion this is what I saw with the corner of my eye:

Char gets close to the sink.

Char get’s her toothbrush.

Char digs for her favorite toothpaste of the month.

Char starts running the (cold) water to rinse her mouth.

Char climbs onto the edge of the bathtub so that she can see herself in the mirror…

Annie screams…

Char get’s startled, and falls backwards into a 100 degree Celsius tub!!

This is when my medic instinct just naturally kicks in.

“Annie go get the first aid kit! Maya run for clean sheets!”

Within seconds I have Char’s pajamas ripped off of her, and I am just dousing her with 1% lidocane. I had my own home health thing going for few years, so I have these things still on hand.

Lidocane works marvels in such situations.

Now only that it completely kills all the pain that my little lamb is experiencing, but it also vasoconstricts all of the capillary circulation of the skin, thus prevents it from swelling and blistering…

Then the burn spray goes on.

I asses the burn, and I freak out. Her entire torso is beet red, and she’s shivering.

For a child her size it’s a burn over 50% of her body, therefore she’s critical, so I wrap her in the sheets, and transport her to the hospital.

I did not take her to the closest emergency room. I took her to a local Level One Trauma center. To be honest, I did not do it just because of the quality care… I did it because I use to work there.

It is so much easier to explained to friends, that know you, and love you no matter what, as for the gruesome, and someone moronic circumstances, of a Nationally Registered Medic near drowning her child in a scorching bathtub…

We did not spend a very long time in the emergency room. My colleagues took a good look at her, and said:

“You’ve done pretty much all there could have been done…”

They gave her a cool sticker, and sent us home.

A cool $600 sticker, but the important part is that she’s back to being herself.

Since then we’ve been showering in my health club…

So on Friday I was back to mediating on “The Positive”.

I think I was about to have a revelation on my way to work, when I heard a loud explosion out the window.

My car started swerving all over the road, and by the time I was able to gain control over it my front tire was completely shot…

I was late for work, and late for few meetings.

Friday is also the day when the BIG LETTER came.

My official offer and list of the necessary documents that I need to start my new position.

In that letter I found a gentle reminder that I need to get my immigration stuff in order, as my job will require for me to travel abroad.

(This means mainly a passport and my green card)

So I’m panic struck again…

Few years ago, after watching Mel Gibson’s “Signs”, my little angels where scared of the aliens. They where so scared of them that they all parked themselves in my bed for the night, they wore funny foil hats on their heads, and listened carefully to their baby monitors. When Snow (my Siberian husky) dug a new hole for himself in my backyard, they’d run home screaming that we had a crop circle outside of our house…

So one memorable time, during a family dinner conversation, I decided to ease their fear, and help them out.

I took out my wallet, and a document that was in it, and said:

“You girls do not have to be scared of aliens at all…”

Oh, the look on Annie’s face when she read in big bold letters:

“Resident Alien” and my picture right next to it.

The initial reaction led to many jokes later on… This is after few months in family counseling… And every time a friend would show up at our house, my girls would prove to them that their mom is an alien… This is how my Green Card was lost.

I’ve attempted to get it a while ago.

I kept on getting notices on my fingerprints expiring.

And after writing long letters to their acting chief, demanding explanation of how one’s fingerprints expire… I sort of gotten blacklisted… I think.

This is when I thought of myself as a spiritual writer, a sort of evangelical Depak Chopra crosses with Tom Clancy, or that guy who wrote Jonathan Livingston Seagull, or Ansel Adams, or whoever. Just somebody famous!

The attempt of replacing my Alien card gave me truly great inspirations. I wrote a story of a girl whose father, a psychology professor at a prestigious university, raised her in a maze. She would get rewarded when she crawled dark hallways and disciplined when she crawled the lit ones, thus she learned to do everything in life conterintuitively. In the story, the girl grows up to be a kid of genius with an enormous following; people hanging on her every word. This book was going to be called “Maze Girl: How One Woman Brought Down The United States Immigration and Naturalization Services!”

Therefore I have not followed up on the whereabouts of my Green Card.

I decided on Friday to take a weekend away from chaos. I felt my brain coming to a meltdown… So the entire Saturday and Sunday I’ve played with my girls… We even made it to the circus. We really love the circus. It’s magic, romantic, and therapeutic.

Our favorite always are the elephants!

While in circus I got a dreaded phone call from work. We had two very, very serious industrial incidents. One person is still in a hospital… So away from the magic tricks and rope walkers… back to earth…

Today I finally had a chance to call the INS. I received instructions how to set up an appointment via the internet, and within days I would be able to see my Immigration Officer, at the office that I was assigned to.

I was very grateful, and jumped right on it… To my absolute amazement though I have quickly learned that after typing in the zip code for Rockford, I was transferred to an office in LA California.

Wait a minute!

There are two offices in my state… One Downtown, one in Naperville… This has to be a mistake…

So I call Nebraska again, to kindly let them know that there’s an error in their database…

After being transferred around, like 80 million times I finally got a hold of the chief in charge of out Immigrants. He informed me at once, that even though I am 80 miles away from the Sears Tower, living in Rockford assigned me to LA…

This is when I’ve asked:

“Sir… This is totally unjust for that state! Don’t you think that California has enough immigration problems, with out sending them additional Polacks that happen to live in Rockford?”

“It is what it is… “He told me and before he hung up he reminded me: “You have an appointment scheduled at 11 am this Friday. In California.”

I though I was hallucinating. I asked my co-workers to pinch me, and then I changed my tactic… As I do not see myself jumping an airplane with the kiddies… just to show up at some stupid office… I’ve changed my address back to my Grandmothers, that still lives in Chicago… And I have an appointment to be Downtown this Friday… Crazy! I told the girls that we are going on a filed trip to see the King of the Aliens. I think we might take the train… They will love it.  Afterwards we will hit the lake, or few museums… We will make an adventure out of it, but taking a vacation day, while finishing up my current job was definitely not something I have planned.

I am still working on the thesis on bio-fuels, and GMO’s… It’s taking me much longer then expected. I might have to finish it at the end of the moths. Sorry Russ… I know how much you are looking forward to it.

For now I will just hold on to the wonderful memories of the circus.

Sometimes I feel as though I was born in a circus, come out of my mother’s womb like a human from a cannon, pitched toward the ceiling of the tent, all doctors and nurses clapping from the grandstands, the band going great guns in trombones and drums. The Great Ringmaster announces to the audience;

“Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls of all ages… Here she comes, Anita The Great, future Environmental Health and Safety Guru!!!”

I unfold and find flight hundreds of feet above the center ring, the smell of popcorn and elephant manure in the air, the clowns gather below, amazed at my grace, and all people chanting my name as my arms come out like wings and I move swan-like toward the apex, where I draw my arms in, collapse my torso to my legs, roll over in perfection, then slowly give in to gravity.

My body falls back toward earth, the ground coming quick, the center ring growing enormous beneath my falling weight.

And this is precisely when it occurs to me that someone has forgotten to install the safety net.

And I wonder:

“What is the use of a circus?” and

“Why should a woman my age bother to be shot out of a cannon?” and

“Why is the crowds’ applause so fleeting?” Aubrey, my dear long lost friend is not longer a medic…

“Who is going to rescue me?”

When I was a provisional paramedic, serving the community in Berwyn IL, I felt as if the world belonged to me.

I had my dream job, granted no compensation, but there where many great benefits to it.

I was saving peoples lives!

I was making a difference between their life and death.

It made me feel important needed, but most of all… I felt like God had a great purpose for my existence.

The fire house had two paramedic units. Each unit had a provisional medic on it.

I was on the ambulance A, with John and Shakes in charge of it.

On the ambulance B was my classmate Andy.

Andy and I had two things in common:

We where both born on the same day… and he had a twin sister named Ann Marie.

My oldest daughters name is also Ann Marie.

In my mind, at that time… and sometimes still to this day…. That obviously meant SOMETHING. (I believe in providential relationships)

I like astrology, and I get a tickle out of the fact, that sometimes we find friends that have close birthdays to ours as well.

Sound’s crazy? Of course… But how can one explain the fact that my brother shares a birthday with his Idol Curt Cobain? And then he is struggling similar problems?

Ok… Back to the story:

It was extremely ironic that each time when team A would get a call for a cardiac arrest… we would get there on time and within split seconds where able to bring someone from the dead back to life.

On the other hand… when team B would get the same call to emergency people would die, and be brought to the hospital labeled as DOA. (Dead on arrival)

There is a tradition in the emergency field… Once you got know for something that you do… good or bad… you get a nick name.

My nick name was Angel of Life… because I always got the good calls.

Andy’s nickname was Angel of Death.

Andy was really an awesome person. He always noticed my struggles trying to ‘fit in’.

I was in a fire house surrounded by men only… there wasn’t even a bathroom designated for girls…

I had no place to take care of my ‘businesses. He would always ask me if I had to pee… Because the rule of the fire house was, that If I had to pee I had to ask one of the men to make sure that no one would come in (No doors on the stalls… it was a man’s bathroom).

At that time I was nursing my little daughter… I would bring my breast pump with me to work… When he would notice that my boobs where leaking…He would ask me if I wanted him to guard the bathroom door…

He was a very nice person. As a matter of fact I loved him. Not as a man that I was going to marry, but as one of those people that you remember for the rest of your life.

One night… 3 days before princess Diana died in the car accident… while walking out to James’s car (he came to pick me up, and he had my Ann Marie with him) Andy followed me.

He liked Ann Marie, and he wanted to tickle her toes.

We where laughing and giggling, but as we departed I had a strange feeling that I sometimes get. (Upset stomach… guts feeling)

So I’ve asked James to turn around… I made an excuse that I have forgotten something… I walked into the fire house, and saw Andy sitting on a chair paling his bass fishing game.

“Andy, “I asked trying to ‘look normal’ “did you by any chance forget to tell me something…”

He smiled back at me, and handed me his game…

“As a matter of fact I do. Take this game and practice it at home. Keep it as a matter of fact.”

I declined politely, and still with a bad feeling yelled out to Andy:

“See you in 3 days!”

So… The rest is history:

Andy called in on our shift.

We laughed at him how he must have been very upset about the Death of Princess Diana.

Some of the fireman even said that he should be happy that he was not there because he could not save her anyway…

We where all laughing.

We where all laughing until the moment when 911 dispatch called for explosion in his residence. (He lived in Berwyn).

When he was in his house, alone in his basement… he put dynamite in his mouth… and killed himself.

There was no way to ‘save him’.

The guilt that I went through was really heartbreaking. And this is something that I need to learn about… This is why I wrote the story titled “Turkey called Fillip” I made sure to include my Berwyn experience…

“Live and let live with as much dignity as possible”.

So I cannot wait to get to heaven, to ask Andy about what I should have done better…

But I cannot blame God for not sending me a ‘clear message’, and cannot blame myself for not being good enough.

On the order hand someone might say, that Andy unfortunately committed mortal sin, (By killing himself).

As a matter of fact the church that he attended refused to burry him just because of that.

So… Is Andy in heaven or is Andy in hell?

Andy was good… that is the fact.

Why then did God did not make me do something more about it?

The honest answer is … I can’t figure it out.

 

Charlie had a friend; her name was Dawn… well for sure I know that her nickname was Munch. She was really good, and an awesome person… And one day a punk killed her ‘just for fun’.

Why didn’t God DO something about that?

I do not know…

What I do know is that it was NOT God that killed Munch. We live in a world that is full of imperfections.

And I do know that He can take the worst thing that has happened to us… (Based on the bible AND previous experience) Our mortal sins… and devils work, and turn it into something very beautiful, and help us not only heal, but heal others too.

(I think that God too like’s killing ‘one bird with one stone).

The question is… What if Dawn and Andy where both not “saved”, and went to hell…

The God that I know of is full of grace and mercy, and I cannot see him saying:

“Sorry guys … This is not the right place for you…”

What I like to think of is one day when I die; I will find them both in a coffee shop in haven.

I will introduce myself to her, and give her a hug.

Then we will all laugh about how hard I have tried to make sure that my Charlie did meet the required quota … in order for a good person to get into heaven.

That is really the only thing I know for sure.

 

Case closed.

 

PS

I will not have coffee with them. I will have a cup of green tea. Yeah… The slushy kind! That’s me.

 

 

Today is my big day, and as I am getting myself ready to head off to my first day of work, I decided to drop few lines.

It’s not like I have a LONG time to travel anymoreJ.

I am bit nervous, but also excited.

I am looking forward to being on a team that constantly gets challenged, yet through their good sense of humor manages to get through.

I am looking forward to expanding my wellness program, and reducing time lost due to disability…

I am looking forward to developing programs that empower employees to develop their own dimensions of wellness, follow all safety procedures, and protect the environment for the well being of all…

Most of all I am looking forward to staying healthy… for my self… my family … my company!

Gotto go!

My start date has been moved by one week.

The holiday weekend, and delay in the final paperwork gave me an opportunity to get an extra week off.

Considering that it’s the last week of school, and the girls and I are going camping tomorrow… I could not have asked for anything more!

I still cannot believe that I am getting this job, so honestly, when my new boss called I worried that he had second thoughts… But that’s just something that I have left from all the worries in December… I am still amazed on how we managed to survive.

For three months, through Christmas and all, we were living with out any income!

Many people helped us… we got an energy grant as assistance… and even though I could not sleep because of all my worry… we made it through.

I think it made us stronger, wiser and faithful.

We still have the house, the cars, bills are paid for… We just had learn to become shroud.

And to be honest, when the unemployment started rolling in… we had more money in the bank then before when I worked.

It’s God’s math really, because logic cannot explain it:

Put less into the income bucket, and have more out of it at the end of the month…

Sure, I’d make pancakes for dinner… the girls really love them… turkey tacos every Tuesday… but really nothing lacked.

We became happier people with out the good income, and even though I worried about ‘my next carrier move’ it was nice to know, that I was not going back to Chicago.

(OK …OK… once I did ask Charlie if I should call up my boss and ask for my job back… He laughed).

Now with the new position and the opportunities that it presents it’s really a long wish finally coming true.

You see… I have not been working close to home since Maya has been born, and she will be going to kindergarden after summer break…

5 long years of constant commute.

Leaving my house before dawn, coming home just to go to sleep. It was not a true family life… not much life to speak of… That is why my mind and body had that meltdown… That’s why in November I ended up in the hospital…

That was 6 long months ago.

Just last week I went for my 6 month checkup.

My doc was upset that I am seeing a naturopath, and taking nutritional supplements.

He still thinks that lives problems can be solved by FDA approved jagged pills, and that I am putting myself in some sort of danger.

I did ask him if there is a guarantee that if I have stayed on the meds, my symptoms would never comeback…

He told me, that even with the pills I can still get ill… then they would give me some new pills to get me back on track.

I have been med free for the last two months. My med induced anxiety (one of its common side effects), and facial twitch are gone… I have not had any manic thoughts or ‘adventures’… So what is the difference if I take the stuff or not?

I feel so much better with out it.

He did scare me though. I thought that he would be happy about how well I am doing.

Instead he told me that there is no cure for ‘bipolar disorder’, and that there is no scientific proof that my new treatment will work…

It’s working just fine!

So then I asked him for the scientific proof, of the diagnosis that he has labeled me as having… Are there any tests… any cat scans… MRI’s?

Or is he basing it on the fact that once upon a time… I could not handle my lifestyle… Had enough caffeine to through an elephant off balance… could not sleep for few days… and started loosing my touch with reality… Actually… Because I remember the whole thing like it was yesterday… I felt completely intoxicated…

“Well…” he says. “One manic episode is enough to qualify someone as bipolar…”

In other words… one does NOT need any science to prove an illness that resembles hundreds of others out there…

My blood sugar for example, and my electrolytes when I was admitted, where completely out of balance…

But did they start an IV… gave my some glucose and ringers?

See if my babbling about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory would go away on its own?

Nope… the FDA approved some wonderful power drugs… They gave me a shot, and I slept for 3 days… Literally!

When I woke up I felt like a zombie… Not only did my symptoms disappeared, but so did my personality.

I was so frightened… I am still scared… I don’t ever want to feel like I felt back then.

But for whatever reason, after talking to that shrink, I have been worried about getting sick again.

For two months I have been feeling great! I have been feeling better them in the last few years of my life… And then after the six month checkup… What was supposed to be my Healing Story, I sort of feel like he hit me below the belt.

He took himself off my case, but asked for me to stop by in few months… he wants to see, how long I can last…

I will go back and see him… But never as a patient… I don’t believe in doctors that take away patients hope!

I sure pray and want to believe that I do not have to go through anything like this again…

Hate to sort of end on a negative rant… But I have been watching my bed time, and it’s time for me to go to bed.

Tomorrow, we are off to the lake!

Anita

 

 

I think that it’s pretty amazing how time can fly… and drag out all at the same time.

When I look at the calendar I cannot believe that May is coming to an end.

When I recall though, the agonizing job search that I had to endure, it feels like I was jobless for ever.

WAS is the key word in my sentence.

Today I accepted an offer!

I am starting on the 29^th! Thank you God!!

I did not feel like writing while I was on my search for a new carrier.

I was much crushed when I did not get the job in the home for the high risk kids. Even though my therapist recommended that I decline it if an offer from them was to come… (many of the kids had severe mental problems, and while mental illness is NOT contagious, after my breakdown last November, he thought it was way too early to throw myself into that kind of an environment) when the phone rang and they told me that they have chosen someone else for the position, I was very sad.

Every morning after that I sat by the computer reading all of the adds that where posted for the day. I filled out many applications, and heard back from very few places.

I was really starting to get very nervous and anxious.I was not sure of the next thing that I was going to do.

I wanted to stay away from manufacturing industry. I blamed the environment for a big chunk of my health problems. And after my dreams of making a huge difference in peoples lives through wellness and safety programs (my passion and area of expertise), I was stuck in a dead end job that took me 2.5to 3 hours to get to… And that’s IF I did not have to make an appearance in court just to waist my time in an attempt to fight some of the fraudulent worker’s compensation cases…

I was going to have no more of that!

My search mainly focused on jobs providing social services for the community.

I wanted to have more ‘ministry oriented’ carrier. But unfortunately most of the jobs either paid very little… or they wanted candidates with social service education and experience...

Three weeks ago, starting to get pretty desperate, I decided to change my tune, and while pretending that I was focusing on health and nutrition, I headed up to a place that sells very expensive, diet frozen meals.

The idea of working on commission scared me, but my unemployment was getting ready to expire. Also I am an optimist, so I figured that I would be able to make decent money… Still I was horrified.

The day that my job offer was about to be presented to me, as I anxiously waited for it to come sitting by my phone, when it rang, on the caller ID instead of seeing the local diet place… I saw the name of America’s favorite snack company.

I was stunned. Why are they calling?

While enjoying the conversation with the big boss in the plant, and talking to him was really a pleasure, I kept on reminding myself of all the stress and frustrations… and how I lost hope in finding a place that truly cares about their workforce, and their workforce caring about the future of the company…

Because I really enjoyed talking to the man, and was very curious to see the insides of a potato chip plant I did agree to meet with him for an interview.

It was so close to home, so clean and organized, that I thought it made for a very nice adventure…

And then I set down with him… and we talked for ever… Then we scheduled another interview with couple more folks…

I fell in love with the fact that they WANT TO focus on wellness. The position offered dealt with non-work related disability and FMLA… when I asked them about the worker compensation part of it I was told that they have a third party involved in that area of the plant.

No workers comp? I could not believe myself. I thought that I was dreaming, and about to wake up… But when I came home and did a little research, I found all sorts of wonderful things about the place… I was stunned.

I really wanted to go to work for them and I’ve decided to try again to prove to the world that wellness at work makes perfect sense.

So they called me today with the job offer. I am taking somewhat of a pay cut from what I made in Chicago… but now I am close to home, I have a chance to follow my dreams, and still have time to be a mom, when I come home from work.

Wow… it’s really late for me.

More updates coming up in the next few days.

Till then,

Anita

Spring is officially here.

Two flowers have bloomed in my garden. The girls are happily playing outside. Big wind is blowing in spring thunderstorms, and I feel healthy and back to my old self again.

I am officially off the meds, and working diligently with my friend naturopath to get my body’s chemistry back to normal.

Again, I have talked to my dad, and we are making plans on how to help my brother Peter.

The great news is that he is going to have a place to go to after he gets out of prison.

My dad is going to take him in, back to Poland, and Peter is going to have an opportunity to work at a hotel that my cousin is opening.

My dad wants Peter to study while he’s incarcerated, and improve himself while he’s cut off away from the society, but no matter what my dad is not going to give up on his son.

What amazes me the most is the love that my dad has for not only us, his children and grandchildren, but for my mother as well.

He told me today hw much he loves her, not for the person that she is, but for the fact that she gave him two beautiful children to love, and cherish, and for that he said he never wants me to rag ob her at all. LOL.

I still wish, after all these years since my parents went their separate ways that my family would have stayed together.

My father is a wonderful man, and he would have given his life for his family if he had to.

What is wonderful to me personally is that I see Charlie being transformed to that kind of a man.

Next week is going to be a big week for me.

On Tuesday I have an interview for a dream job of mine.

It’s here in town.

It pays well.

And it would allow me to use all of my spiritual gifts since it is a job in social service.

No more workers compensation claims.

This time I would be working directly in real ministry, helping out troubled, high risk teens.

I am very excited about this opportunity, and I pray to god every day that I might me granted this opportunity.

Your prayers are appreciated as well.