A Turn In The Road

“What’s wrong?”  Paul had been asleep until I woke him up. When he saw my hand he wanted to know what happened. Still in shock I wanted to know what the yellow stuff coming out of my hand was.  “Well Come on then. I hope this does not take all night. I have to go to work later”.    Several hours had passed by the time I was led into one of the rooms.  After my hand had been stitched up and instructions and pain medicine was prescribed I called the bank to explain why I would not be there. I rested while keeping my hand elevated.                             The next morning when I arrived back to work my hand was bandaged and sore. I explained that I had to keep my hand elevated as often as possible. I still had to get voided checks ready to be checked and any changes noted before the mail was picked up.  One of the manager’s  walked over to my desk to give me some more work that needed to be finished. It was in an area that I was not involved with. ” You will need to make some of Lins’ calls. There are so many she cannot do them all herself.”  I did not mind helping out a coworker. I did however explain that taking notes on the call would be difficult. My injured hand was the same one I used to write with. “Well do the best you can. We need to be able to read it.”  After I made the calls and filled in the paperwork I was ready to start back on the check orders that had been dropped off at the banks front desk. Just as I was getting ready to sort everything out I was interupped by  the manager.    “What is this?  I can’t read anything on these papers                          “I’m sorry. I did try. I am not right handed.”  It was obviously not what she wanted to hear. I had to make the same calls to the same people. It was a bit humiliating.   They were not sympathetic to my endeavor.     I was not fitting in to their cliques and I was not happy.                                       

 

 

 

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Update

   Since I posted my last story

I was contacted by a publisher.  Great news, right?  That is what I thought.  Just as I was about to sign a deal it dawned on me they were asking for money before my manuscript was finished.   I am still writing and doing the research needed to write.  It may take awhile.  When it comes to publisbing?  I will have to do a lot more research on publishing companies.  I won’t be spamed.

 

 

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Hiatus

  • Dear friends and fellow bloggers.  You probably have not seen any posts from me in awhile.   It is for a good reason.  After speaking with the same publishing agent  for another time I have decided to break from blogging and  “hunker” down on writing my book.  Although some of my blogs could be in my story I felt it needed to be one or the other.  I can promise this.  As developments occur I will put tbem on my blog.  Don’t forget about me.  Keep checking in and send me an email if you’d like to. 

                                         Your blogging buddy, 

                                                          Teresa

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    My Book

    I spoke with the same book publisher as before.  He was impressed at how much I have accomplisbed in tbe last few weeks.  It’s now becoming very real. 

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    Things To Come (and then there was high school)

        We tried to avoid the inevitable from happening.  Realizing that we had no choice we stayed where we were.  “Go on home she told me.  I’ll take it for the both  of us.”   That was just the kind of friend she was.   As I walked home I kept thinking I hoped she was alright.  It wasn’t until years later when she told me how upset her mom was when she saw her daughters’ good clothes ruined.                                                                                                     Later that summer when the school year approaching again Sue told me that we would not be going to the same high school.   I was horrified.  I began feeling as if I was saying good-bye to another friend.  We had played together, laughed and cried together for twelve years.  She reassured me by telling me Decatur was not far.  She was right yet it didn’t make me feel any better.    Randy would be there to support me during my first year of high school.   It gave me some comfort,but,it still would have been nice to have a close friend going through the same thing near by.  I did have friends that I had made in junior high, but, I could not help feeling a little abandoned.  For the next four years she went in one direction while I went  in another.   Figuring out where my locker and classrooms was probably the worse.  With only five minutes to spare between classrooms was a challenge at first. Working my locker 1915121_1101714347431_4827154_n                                                                     Teresa Standing Outside Home Before Eighth Grade Graduation                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    combination was another matter.   At times it was just better to carry all if not most of my books home.  If you look closely at the picture you will see Northwest high school behind my house.             In some of my earlier posts you have most likely noticed me tell the story of my other high school experiences.  Those will go here, and so the story continues……..

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    Dear Readers and Fellow Bloggers…

       I appreciate all of the likes that I have gotten on my story blog.  By now you have probably figured out what my blog is about.  The likes are wonderful.  They encourage me to keep writing.  My new motto now is never give up on your dreams.  It would really help me to keep on track and staying focused on my autobiography if you could leave a comment after reading one of my stories.  Good or bad does not matter to me,because,in the end it will help.  Thanks again for your following and support and keep on reading!

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    My Christmas’ Growing Up

         wp-1486321802999.jpg                                                              Front row l-r  Dutchess(dog) Jan Lisa Karen                 Back row l-r  Jeff and Randy                                                                                                                                                                              Christmas has always been my most favorite time of the year, but, not more so than when I was growing up.  I enjoyed the excitement in the air while shopping downtown.   I could just stand in front of a stores display window and gaze at the animation of the holiday figurines dancing around, or a train going through tunnels in another displayed window.  There was never any rushing about while trying to get shopping done. People were actually merry and you would often hear a merry Christmas or a Christmas carol being sung by carolers.    On Christmas Eve mom would be in the kitchen baking cookies for Santa and preparing a special entree’ to take to Grandma and Grandpas for the pre-holiday meal.  Everyone would be dressed up in their best holiday attire.

    Dadwithladiterclandec1973

    A Lasiter Christmas

                                                                                                                       After dinner was over and dishes washed and put away everyone would gather around to open a few presents followed by a few Christmas carols.  Grandma who had taught herself to play the organ would take her seat and begin to play.  When she did not know how to begin the first few notes of a particular carol she would ask one of us to sing a few notes.  Before long she was playing the music while listening to the rest of us sing beautifully off key.  It as a time to laugh more.   My youngest brother was always pretty good at being silly while showing off for his many cousins.                                                                                      Christmas morning was always very memorable.  Hurrying out of our beds we would find our designated spots.  We were always very pleased that Santa Claus took enough time to put our names where we could see them.  He made it a lot easier to find what he had left us.  I can recall so many things that he brought me over the years.  Chatty Cathy.  She was beautiful. I was thrilled that he remembered.  I must have pulled the string on her back a hundred or more times to hear her talk.  There was also the Christmas when I sat on Santas’ lap telling him about the Easy Bake Oven.   Imagine my disappointment  when I did not get the oven.  Mom explained to me that I was to little to operate such an extravagant gift.  “Look!”  Showing me the mixes and small baking dishes he brought me I still had a hard time accepting that he must have forgotten.  “You can  bake them in my big oven” she explained.  The older I became I learned to ask for surprises.   These surprises were just as wonderful as those gifts that I wanted.

    Teresa's Brother and Sisters Christmas Eve 1976

      Teresa’s Brother with his sisters and cousins on Christmas Eve 1976

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    The rest of that summer was spent talking about the new school year. We hoped that we would be in the same classroom when we started the fifth grade. Like all the other first days of school all of us who lived on the cul-de- sac would always meet on my parents front lawn. Walking together we talked excitedly about our first day. Who would be our teacher? Would we have the same classmates as the year before? Thinking about that I couldn’t wait to get to my room and my desk. I was there early. The room was empty. Finding a place near the door I sat and waited while watching the front door. Classmates began flowing into the room. Each time someone else walked in I began to get discouraged. Then I saw him. He saw me too. It was not Leslie that would be in my class. Instead it was her brother Donny. We tolerated one another. It seemed he did not want to be there either and made a brief comment of the fact. He must have had other hopes as well. Then as quickly as he was there he was soon gone. The family was moving. I was heartbroken. Another friendship was ending. Later I would ask another friend where Leslie had moved. All I got was that she was living near the Dairy Queen on the east side. “That could be anywhere!” I said. Eventually she was out of sight and all that was left was the memories. I still had my very best friend. Sue and I had known each other since we were three. We spent a lot of our times together outside in the shade talking and making each other laugh. Some of my most memorable moments were riding our bikes around the neighborhood or hiding from the world in her German Shepards’ dog house. It may not have been large enough for us to stand up inside,but,it was enough room for us. I can only imagine what the dog must have been thinking when he could not come inside to lay down to get out of the heat. No one could hardly imagine what that poor dog must have felt when he was kept out of his own house. Why would he even want to go in there. It was just as sweltering inside the wooden interior as it was outside! is A picture of a dog during the “dog days” of summer Sue and I never shared any classes together. She was always in one classroom while I was in another. We still had time to catch up during lunch. That is until the seventh grade. Lunch time had always been a time when friends could talk and share their day. Seventh grade was different. The students could not talk to one another. Teachers kept a close watch to make sure that the rule was obeyed. We were not talking the afternoon that it happened. She was on one side of the table. I was on the other. We could not talk, so, maybe we could write notes back and forth instead. Then before we knew what had happened one of the eighth grade teachers had us leave the cafeteria for talking! I tried to explain. He would not listen. “We weren’t, really!” Still he walked us out into the hall. There wasn’t much lunch left to be eaten. I was hungry and upset, and, I felt horrible. Thankfully the school year was almost over. Unbeknownst to me I would have the very same teacher during the eighth grade. Not once. Not twice. I would have this teacher for homeroom, English and Reading! When I walked through the door on that first day I did not know if he remembered me. Not too surprisingly he did and he reminded me of the time I was caught for “talking” during lunch. I didn’t know if that was a bad thing or a good thing. It turned out to be the latter. H e was a kind man, compassionate and surprisingly funny. I almost regretted it when eighth grade was over. Unlike the kids today who go to their last day of school in shorts and tee shirts we dressed up for the occasion. I wore a pink dress that day. With long sheer sleeves and tied in the back I felt pretty. There was a quick graduation ceremony for the entire eighth grade class. Afterward we were ready to walk home excited about the summer. My friend and I had only walked a few feet when we were stopped by a couple of high school freshmen. They wanted to know if we were eighth graders. Learning that we were they explained about the initiation into the ninth grade. We were about to be smeared!

      The rest of that summer was spent talking about the new school year.  We hoped that  we would be in the same classroom when we started the fifth grade.  Like all the other first days of  school  all of us who lived on the cul-de- sac  would always meet on my parents front lawn.  Walking together we talked excitedly about our first day. Who would be our teacher?  Would we have the same classmates as the year before?  Thinking about that I couldn’t wait to get to my room and my desk.  I was there early.  The room was empty.  Finding a place near the door I sat and waited while watching the front door. Classmates began flowing into the room.  Each time someone else walked in  I began to get discouraged.  Then I saw him.  He saw me too.  It was not Leslie that would be in my class.  Instead it was her brother Donny.  We tolerated one another.  It seemed he did not want to be there either and made a brief comment of the fact.  He must have had other hopes as well.  Then as quickly as he was there he was soon gone.  The family was moving.  I was heartbroken.  Another friendship was ending.  Later I would ask another friend where Leslie had moved.  All I got was that she was living near the Dairy Queen on the east side.  “That could be anywhere!” I said.  Eventually she was out of sight and all that was left was the memories.       I still had my very best friend.  Sue and I had known each other since we were three.  We spent a lot of our times together  outside in the shade talking and making each other laugh.  Some of my most memorable moments were riding our bikes around the neighborhood or hiding from the world in her German Shepards’  dog house.  It may not have been large enough for us to stand up inside,but,it was enough room for us.  I can only imagine what the dog must have been thinking when he could not come inside to lay down to get out of the heat.  No one could hardly imagine what that poor dog must have felt when he was kept out of his own house.  Why would he even want to go in there.   It was just as sweltering inside the wooden interior as it was outside!

    is                                                               A picture of a dog during the “dog days” of summer

     

         Sue and I never shared any classes together.  She was always in one classroom while I was in another.   We still had time to catch up during lunch.  That is until the seventh grade.                    Lunch time had always been  a time when friends could talk and share their day.  Seventh grade was different.   The students  could not talk to one another.  Teachers kept a close watch to make sure that the rule was obeyed.  We were not talking the afternoon that it happened.  She was on one side of the table.  I was on the other. We could not talk, so, maybe we could write notes back and forth instead.  Then before we knew what had happened one of the eighth grade teachers had us leave the cafeteria for talking!  I tried to explain.  He would not listen.  “We weren’t, really!” Still he walked us out into the hall.  There wasn’t much lunch left to be eaten.  I was hungry and upset, and, I felt horrible.  Thankfully the school year was almost over.   Unbeknownst to me I would have the very same teacher during the eighth grade.   Not once.  Not twice.  I would have this teacher for homeroom, English and Reading!    When I walked through the door on that first day I did not know if he remembered me.   Not  too surprisingly he did and he reminded me of the time I was caught for “talking” during lunch.     I didn’t know if that was a bad thing or a good thing.  It turned out to be the latter.  H e was a kind man, compassionate and surprisingly funny.   I almost regretted it when eighth grade was over.                                                                                                               Unlike the kids today who go to their last day of school in shorts and tee shirts we dressed up for the occasion.  I wore a pink dress that day.  With long sheer sleeves and tied in the back I felt pretty.  There was a quick graduation ceremony for the entire eighth grade class.  Afterward we were ready to walk home excited about the summer.   My friend and I had only walked a few feet when we were stopped by a couple of high school freshmen.  They wanted to know if we were eighth graders.  Learning that we were they explained about the initiation into the ninth grade.  We were about to be smeared!

     

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