I was there..

You crashed your car... I was there. You took your first breath... I was there. You took your life...I was there. You fell off a ladder and landed on your head...I was there. Your house caught fire in the middle of the night...I was there. You were anxious and just needed someone to understand and talk you through it..I was there. You were choking...I was there. You were having a heart attack...I was there. You took your last breath... I was there. Many times over many years...you didn't know who I was...but I was there.

I saw my first dead person when I was 11 or 12. I was at Hampton Beach with a friend and her family and I watched as people pulled a lifeless man out of the ocean and began to perform CPR. I don't know if the guy survived, but at the time I saw him..he was dead. This isn't one of those inspirational moments when I knew fate was leading me down a life path. I just remember standing there, watching as people tried to bring this guy back to life.

For almost 14 years I answered the call to try to make the worst day in a stranger's life a little bit better in whatever way I could...whether it be physically or emotionally or a little bit of both. Day or night it didn't matter, when that pager went off, I went out the door even if I wasn't on call that day. Missed meals, dealing with death on holidays, sudden changes in plans, more time spent with my EMS partner than my husband some days. I can understand why some marriages just don't make it.

There are awards on the wall by my front door I received over my years: Firefighter of the year, Chief's Choice, Directors choice award and 3 EMT of the year awards. This only highlights my persistence and reliability to assist on calls. I would by no means call myself a master of my profession. Many days I think I was more lucky than good. My peers seemed to enjoy having me as a partner and I worked hard to have a good working relationship and friendship with those who chose to spend their 12 hour shifts with me as there were many options to choose from.

I couldn't explain to my Chief and the EMS director why I was suddenly done with being a Paramedic Firefighter but I knew it was time to walk away. The joy from the job was gone, I felt alone, even though I had everyone else's back, I really didn't feel I could trust anyone to have mine or be there for me. Thankfully there was a blog post my best friend found which helped put some of th thoughts into the words I was unable to find.

https://dimcmath.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/unless-youve-been-there-you-wouldnt-understand-a-paramedics-farewell-to-the-job/

There are definitely moments I will never be able to forget no matter how hard I try. I drive by houses and the memories come flooding back, good and bad. I suppose it comes with the territory.

I think it's almost worse being a has-been than a wanna-be. A wanna-be may still have some potential of gonna-be. I know it's mostly in my head, but I have felt like I was "weak" and "inferior" for not being able to stick it out. I see my old partners out and about at the grocery store with their new partners who don't know me from Adam and when I introduce myself and say I used to be a paramedic & firefighter, the look I feel I get is "oh... but you're aren't one now.. guess you couldn't hack it then huh?!?"  I want to grab them by the collar and smack the look off their face. "You'll always be one of us" isn't quite the feeling I get when these encounters occur. Again, I know it's not them... it's me.

I was stupid to think I would walk out the fire station door on that last day and not have crap to work through. Even now almost 2 years later, I still have a few things of baggage I am sorting through. Walls of defenses that were put up for protection have taken a long time to tear through. I still have anger issues, triggers, anxiety and probably a touch of PTSD. I will never be the person I was before joining the fire department, my best hope is I can learn to understand the revised version of me and continue to seek comfort and happiness in the world around me.

A friend with PTSD told me one of the ways he works through stuff is to write about it. I told him I would probably never be that brave to expose the inner workings of my brain but after a year and a half, I think I have finally gotten brave enough to put some of it into words...so here it is.

Ain't nothin but a cellarhole

Here I stood on a hill in the woods in an area once known as Rocky Nook, a few miles outside of Plymouth Massachusetts. There was a small pull-off beside the road and a large historical marker in the middle of a grassy hill placed between 2 giant trees, age unknown, but easily a few hundred years old. Over on the right hand side of this hill are old foundation stones and this cellar hole. There are many broken pieces of brick laying around the site and probably many hidden treasures from the past buried under the layers of soil.

This is hallowed ground for me as John Howland my 9th Great Grandfather, purchased this land on Feb 2 1638/9 for his homestead. He was a pilgrim on the Mayflower, a servant to John Carver, hired on to assist with the move of the congregation from Leiden to Plymouth. He is known for falling overboard during a storm during the crossing of the Mayflower and being pulled back aboard with a boat hook. Rumors of drunkenness as a cause of him falling overboard do exist. John Carver died in April of 1621 and with no relative to inherit the Carver's goods. John inherited all of the goods and bought his freedom from being a servant. He also took in everyone left in John Carver's household, servants and an 14 year old orphan Elizabeth Tilley. He was the 13th signer of the Mayflower Compact.

His marriage to Elizabeth Tilley was one of the first in the Plymouth Colony. Elizabeth's parents and Aunt & Uncle died during the first winter of 1620-1621. Elizabeth was 16 years old at the time of marriage. They had 10 children together.

John Howland was one of the 10 men chosen to explore the new land upon landing on the Cape. He also accompanied Edward Winslow to explore the Kennebec River in what is now Maine. In 1634 he was put in charge of a trading post built where present Augusta Maine is located. Howland Maine is named for him.

His son Jabez owned a house on 33 Water Street in Plymouth, this house is still standing and gives tours. This is the only house still remaining where Pilgrims have lived. John and Elizabeth wintered with their son each winter from 1670 until John's death in 1672 and Elizabeth continued to live there from 1675 to 1680. John died in this house in February and is buried with a marked grave high up on a hill in the cemetery in Plymouth. We toured the Jabez Howland house and paid our respects at his gravesite, a few days prior to walking on the Rocky Nook property and the tour guides were also descendants of John Howland and the whole visit truly felt like a homecoming.

John knew one of my other 9th Great Grandfathers, John Alden, as he was another Pilgrim aboard the Mayflower as they were sent out on exploration missions together both on the Cape and up the Kennebec. John Alden was a Cooper aboard the Mayflower, he was not part of the Separatist Church like the other passengers from Leiden. He was a hired hand who decided to stay on with the Colony and eventually converted to the Separatist Church. John Alden's bible is in a case in the Pilgrim Hall museum in Plymouth. I also had the pleasure of visiting his homestead and grave in Duxbury MA. I will post about that another day.

This is much more than just a cellarhole. It is where one branch of my family tree's roots were planted as my 8th great grandfather was born on this property. It is a place one of the leaders of the Plymouth Colony called home and raised his family. The stories the soil could tell if it could talk.

Monkees Memories Part III

In a Mexican accent "Knock knock" "Who's there?" "Green" "Green who?" "Green, Green pick up the phone."

There I was, in a bar in Chicago after a teen idols concert, drinking a pint of Guinness which Micky Dolenz had bought me. Now he was telling me knock knock jokes featuring the Taco Bell Chihuahua.

I had gone to the concert with my friends from Minnesota and they had connections that told us where we could find Micky, his sister Coco and Peter Noone after the concert. Peter didn't stay long, but I at least got up the nerve to say hello. We all sat and talked with Coco for a bit while Micky was talking to others in the bar. I waited for an opportunity to thank him for the Guinness and we struck up a conversation, which is rare for me when I meet people more famous than I because I have the knack of suddenly forgetting all the words of the English language.

I still have the pint glass from that night so I can drink from it and remember what fun it was.

Just before we moved to Utah, we caught one last monkees concert at the house of blues. We got there nice and early so we'd be guaranteed front row standing room only. The concert was fantastic, but it made me a little sad thinking this was probably the last time I would see them perform. When they shook hands after the show I got my hand grabbed by all of them as they went off stage. Peter grabbed both my hands at once and took a while to let go. I think it was only coincidence, doubtful he remembered our conversation a couple months prior at Shank hall, but who knows.

2013: front row at monkees concert in Henderson NV. This time the line up was Micky, Peter and Mike. Thrilled to finally see Mike perform live and he did not disappoint. I was happy to hear so many songs that I have never heard in concert before because he sang lead on them. If it's the last Monkees concert I get to go to, I will be content. Anything after these Monkees experiences will be a bonus.

Monkees Memories Part II

I would have the opportunity to see the Monkees in concert in 1989 at Club Casino in Hampton Beach, NH. Meatloaf opened for the Monkees and my best friend Jenny tagged along to keep me company. I remember walking by the buses, giggling like a little girl...at least until I passed by the front of Davy's bus. Across the top of the front of the bus was a marquee where the bus leaser could write a message for all to see it said... "Show us your t$ts." Shocked and stunned, I did not do what the marquee suggested and I moved along quickening my steps.

Buying a tshirt was a must and I chose the I slept with a monkee nightshirt. It is still in my closet all these years later. The concert was fantastic and we had a blast.

Fast forward to we 1997: I got a postcard in the mail from Beachwood Recordings after having purchased Peter Tork's CD Stranger things have happened. It said that Peter Tork would be playing 3 nights in a row at various venues within driving distance of our Des Plaines IL home. He was touring with some guy named James Lee Stanley. We were able to get tickets to 2 of the 3 venues, Fitzgerald's in Berwyn IL and Shank Hall in Milwaukee, WI. I was excited to get the chance to see Peter play in an small club and maybe meet him.

The night before we were to see Peter and James, they performed on Nashville Now. I discovered this James Lee Stanley guy was pretty darn good and the harmonies the two sang together were amazing and that we would be in for a couple of entertaining nights.

We arrived at Fitzgerald's and grabbed a spot in the front off to the right side of the stage, James came on first and from the first chord of Daughter Divine I was hooked. He played a lot of songs from his latest CD Domino Harvest and then Peter took the stage to play songs from his Stranger things have happened CD. It was dreamlike, I had to pinch myself to make sure I really was sitting about 10 feet away from The Peter Tork.

During the intermission I had my first "Thrill of a lifetime, meet the artist" experience with James. I remember a wonderful hug, he signed a couple of CDs that we had bought which became the first of many "Can you sign this Connie and Paul" moments. After chatting with James a bit, I moved over to meet Peter, I shyly said hi and asked him to sign my CD and then ran away like a scared rabbit. Peter was nice, but my anxiety got the better of me and I chose to retreat back to my chair.

Peter and James ended the evening by playing a set of songs together which was absolutely amazing. We went home happy and totally entertained and looking forward to the night after next when we would go to the show at Shank Hall.

Shank Hall was equally as spectacular as Fitzgerald's, I bought another CD from James and then got the courage up to talk to Peter. He greeted me with one of the most amazing hugs I have ever gotten from a human being in my life. It is definitely in my top 5. Maybe sometime I will post a blog about the 5 best hugs I have ever gotten.

Over the years we lived in Chicago area I had the opportunity to see James many times and he introduced me to 2 wonderful singers, Michael Smith and Tom Dundee and that I am grateful for.

Another night I am grateful for was in February of 2001 back at Shank Hall. It was a snowy night and I had driven up alone to see James and Peter play another show. At some point during the show I realized it might be a long time before I would see either of them play a show because in 6 months I was pretty sure I was moving to Utah. I didn't want to leave my life in the burbs of Chicago, but at the same time, I knew we needed to move somewhere more affordable so we could eventually buy a house. After the show I was talking to James as he was packing up his gear and feeling really stressed and sad about life. I kiddingly made the comment that some days I felt the need to find the nearest bridge to test gravity instead of thinking about the move to Utah. Peter must have been listening in as he packed his gear and he made some comment about when we get mad at other people we really are mad at ourselves.  When that didn't get a grin or a chuckle out of me, he stopped what he was doing, came over to where I was standing,  put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his. "You're not really looking for a bridge to jump off of are you?" "No Peter, I am just freaking out at the thought of such major change." "It will be good, whatever happens..Don't worry. Promise me you won't go looking for a bridge." He wouldn't let go of my chin or let me look away until I promised. I would try to tell this story to him years later, but there were to many people around him and I was embarrassed so I thanked him for it, but lied and said I didn't remember exactly what he said because I didn't want to tell the story in front of strangers.

Monkee Memories Part 1

Sometime in the early 80's one of the TV stations out of Boston would air reruns of The Monkees in the afternoons just after I got home from school.  I remember many times being over at my best friend Kara's grandmother's house, laying on the floor watching the ending credits for "Banana Splits" (La la la, la la la la, la la la, la la la la.-try to get that out of your head now), anticipating 30 minutes of music and humor.  Never in my 11-12 year old mind did I ever picture I would get the opportunity to see them perform, let alone meet them one day.

Davy was the first Monkee I ever met.  He had written an autobiography and was doing a book signing in Boston.  I asked my parents if we could go and they drove the distance so I could seek out my first Monkee.  I remember the line was long and my parents went off to do their own thing for a good chunk of the afternoon, occasionally checking in on our progress around the levels of Fanuel Hall.  Finally the much anticipated moment arrived, I remember small talk, (very little as I never seem to have a lot to say when I meet famous people..as I would rather feel stupid for not saying much then look stupid for saying something stupid.)  He signed my book, took a picture with me and then gave my brother Dale who had accompanied me on this adventure a thumbs up before meeting the next person.  My mind raced and my heart was all a-flutter trying to ingrain that moment of time forever in my memory banks.

MTV got a hold of the Monkees in 1986, I watched re-runs upon re-runs as they ran their marathons.  Then a 20th anniversary tour was announced with a show in Portland Maine.  Once again, my parents being the cool parents that they were, upon asking the small request of tickets and a drive to and from Portland..my brother Dale and I found ourselves sitting in seats about halfway up on the left hand side of the stage.  Sitting through Gary Puckett, Herman's Hermits and The Grass Roots was ok, but I was really only there for 1 thing... The Monkees.  When they came onto the stage (minus Mike) it was more than I could have imagined.  The night flew by as we sang along with every song and laughed at their onstage antics.  My parents went to dinner and wandered around town for most of the time we were in the concert, but during the last couple of songs managed to sneak in to see part of the show.  They said security was more concerned about the teenagers and 20 somethings so they slipped right into the venue without even a second look. The Monkees were playing the next night in Bangor so my cousins Dana and Matt would soon get to experience their own Monkees memory.

Yes, when the 4 of us got together we would lip-sync to the monkees and put on an occasional show.  Once I remember, we lip-sync'd to she hangs out, but we put balloon boobs on my cousin dana to completely change the meaning of the song.  It was at least funny to our juvenile minds.  At the end of the song 2 of us took a pin to a balloon and popped it so dana would "hang out" no more.

Great Big Sea n Me

I was at Milwaukee Irish Fest in 1999 (or 2000) when I stumbled across Great Big Sea playing on a stage.  They immediately grabbed my attention and I was blown away by their music.  They played 3 times that weekend and by the time the festival was over I was hooked.  Their mix of pop, rock and traditional is well done and like a fine wine or cheese after 20 years in existence they still kick a$$ live and in person.  The joy of living in Chicagoland was that I would have the opportunity to watch them perform many times before we moved in 2001. 

They made my 30th birthday extremely special.  They played a small club somewhere around Wrigley Field on my birthday and after a fantastic show we were hanging out in the bar and Alan heard it was my birthday. Even though he didn't know me, he rushed over to where I was standing, gave me a big hug and a kiss and wished me a happy happy happy birthday.  Darrell also came over and wished me a happy birthday as well.  I remember he and I talked hockey for a bit before he disappeared from the bar.  Bob and Sean were no where to be found, but I would later learn that was the norm for them.  We hung out at the bar with a small group of people, maybe 4-5 others and Alan.  Alan told me about his grandfather and what a character he was.  They sing a song called Lukey's Boat and now whenever I hear it I can hear Alan imitating his Grandfather the day he asked Alan if his girlfriend at the time was "good for planching"  which he explained was significant from when the old wooden boats would be repaired (planched) with wooden pegs, new boards and cracks filled with putty.  To planch takes on a whole new meaning when you're talking to an Old Salt, if you get my drift.  We said our goodbyes at some point later in the evening and said we'd see him the next night in Milwaukee.

The next night we traveled north to another small bar and did it all again. We hung out some more, but didn't stay nearly as long since we had further to travel back home that night.  We did see their van and trailer parked at the hotel they were staying at so I left them a note on the windshield thanking them for a fantastic weekend.

Every few years I go on the road to catch some shows since the closest they have played was once in las vegas many, many years ago.  I hit 3 nights in a row in California: SLO, Santa Barbara and LA, followed by a show in Salt Lake City a week later. Russell Crowe joined them on stage for the encore in Los Angeles..which was quite amazing.

I hit a dry spell seeing them live for a few years until almost a month ago when we flew to Boulder CO for 2 nights of GBS bliss.  Despite blizzard conditions at time, it was the most perfect weekend.  We got into town a couple hours before the show began so after checking into the hotel we foraged for some food before going to the venue.  Our seats were in the back of the theater, but that didn't stop us from having a great time.  It was like no time had passed and they did 2 full sets of music with a intermission in between.  Prior to the concert they had asked for pictures of people who would be attending the show to show in a slideshow during the song "Good People". I emailed the one of paul and I sitting by the "danger landmine" sign in Israel.  It was awesome to see us pop up on the jumbotron behind the band. 

The next night was even better than the first night.  We had backstage passes to meet the boys and at 7:30 Andy their tour manager met us by the sound booth and brought us back.  I had purposed picked a hockey jersey to wear that night because I knew that would at least help with conversation if I got tongue-tied. I met Bob first and he shook my hand and said hi, we talked about the hockey jersey and then Sean introduced himself to me and then finally Alan.  I really wanted to babble on about the last time I met him and lukey's boat but I shoved it all back and talked about the jersey.  They signed some stuff for us and Alan again commented to paul what an "awesome jersey" I was wearing. He asked if we were from Alaska (I was wearing an Alaska Aces jersey) and I said no, we were "Utards" from the desert of Utah and I got another chuckle out of Alan.  I asked Sean if he had gone adventuring that day (the day before he told a story about climbing the flat iron trail only to find a beware of mountain lions sign at the top....which of course would have been a lot more informative at the bottom of the trail.) He shook his head back and forth and said no no no no no... I learned my lesson yesterday and stayed at the hotel all day today...we got pictures taken and then headed back to our seats in the front row up against the stage where I was close enough to count Alan's nose hairs all evening long.  It was one of the best nights ever.

I love Great Big Sea's music.  It fits all moods and I can never stay cranky for long after I put on of their CDs on..It's great traveling music, great housecleaning music, great background music and great everything music. 

Memories and Christmas Traditions.

     Tis the season of memories, with Christmas less than 20 days away.  I don't remember any "Ralphie" Christmases where I just had to have a particular gift or I would just die.  But I do remember the Christmas I asked for and got a doll you could make up water bottles for and she would really "drink" the bottle and promptly wet her diaper. The year after I remember asking for her baby sister and adding her to the family on Christmas morning.  I remember the coolness of getting a lite brite from Santa as well as the Christmas there was a banjo under the tree (actually it was hidden under the table). I could always count on a whitman's sampler of 4 chocolates in my stockling as well as a stuffed animal under the tree.
     The elves always left us one present on Christmas Eve to start the festivities.  They always knew when we were headed out to look at Christmas lights because when we got home our one present was waiting for us.  One present was saved for after dinner as well, as we got older that usually became a gag-type gift with some sarcasm from the givers to the givee. 
     It didn't matter how early we woke up on Christmas morning.  The rule was you stayed in your room or a sibling's room and went through the goodies in your stocking until the parental unit awoke and granted passage to the livingroom.  I don't know if this was an actual rule or if we just didn't dare go wake up the parental unit to start the Christmas festivities. When my dad would have to work on Christmas, we'd be up extremely early so he could open presents and see us open presents before he went to work.
     I remember once sitting on Santa's lap at a department store.  I told him what I wanted and then he handed me a broken candy cane.  I was disappointed with the broken candy cane until he told me it was a special candy cane because Rudolph stepped on it.  Oh the naivity of a child..I was ok with the fact that a dirty reindeer hoof had stepped on my candy cane and crushed it to oblivion.
     Most years we headed back to Maine sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas to visit the family. There was always a pinata to break, some holiday games to play, great food to eat and tons of time spent with the cousins playing in the woods, hiking down to the beaver pond, playing football or hiking up to the big rock in the middle of the blueberry field to play or to sled back down towards the house if there was snow..  So many memories of being out at the rock, when all the cousins were together for Grampie's funeral we as adults trudged up the hill to sit on the rock and remember times past.
     Tradition of Christmas dinner became deep dish pizza.  A tradition followed even now, even though some of the recipes have changed.
     I remember 2 ways we counted down to Christmas, one was an advent calender.  Each day one of us would get to open one of the doors.  Some years it had chocolates, but my favorite calender was a scratch and sniff one.  I have always loved scented things and so the scratch and sniff of Christmas was no exception.  The other way was putting cottonballs in santa's beard.  Mom would draw a santa's face and 24 spots for his beard and by Christmas the man in red would have a full beard.
     Many happy memories come with this time of year and these are some of them.