~ This is why I do it ~

Delta Reservations, 1965

by Tina~in_ut

For the most part, the calls I get at work are boring. They are the same thing day in and day out: stupid questions. My main job is customer service, but those challenging calls are few and far between now, for various reasons. I'm also newly trained for CRO (Complaint Resolution Officer) calls, but haven't had many of those yet, thank God. A CRO takes calls from disabled passengers who were treated poorly. We take these calls very seriously and to me, these are the scariest calls ever. We get everything from assigning blocked seats because the passenger has an emotional support animal or fused leg, to complaints because an ordered wheelchair was not supplied, to oxygen requests, or because we lost a passengers wooden leg! (that's another story!)

Today a lady called me and the first thing out of her mouth was that she had a lot of stupid questions. I thought, "You and every other person I talked to today!" ..... but I just laughed. Then she said I was going to think she was an idiot. That got me laughing. I told her that I had just hung up with the idiot! Then she told me the reason for her call. Her husband is on oxygen and needed to fly from Atlanta to Phoenix, but she was concerned because he needs it constantly and she found out that he could not use his own onboard. She couldn't figure out how he was going to get from the car to the plane and then off the plane to the house without us supplying the oxygen. You see, this man cannot even walk from his bed to the living room without it and she was sure he couldn't take his through security.

When we get a call having to do with any kind of disability, we are not allowed to answer any question off the top of our head. We have to look up the answer every time, even if we know it. If the FAA audits us and we answer without pausing to look up the information, we get fined A LOT of money. I don't seem to have a problem pausing! In fact, this woman was on hold for a long time. I looked up all the information we had on oxygen and was asking my boss about the situation. I even googled to find out where this woman could get oxygen for her husband.

When I went back to her, before I could even tell her what I found out, she told me her "story." Her husband was dying. He didn't have long to live. When he was told of this, his wife immediately set out to find the daughter he hadn't seen in many years. The man's ex-wife had kidnapped the girl when she was young and told her that her father didn't want to have anything to do with her. The girl was even told her father's name was something other than what it was. The lady found her on MySpace. She's 23 years old and has a daughter of her own now. The lady's greatest wish was to reunite her husband with his daughter. They have talked on the phone, but haven't seen each other.

When I told the woman that her husband could bring his oxygen as far as the jetway, that we'd store it for him during the flight while he used the oxygen we would supply, and then his would be returned once the flight landed, the relief, pure joy, and excitement in her voice made me cry. I've had nasty passengers make me cry before, but I've never had a nice one cause tears. She was so happy. In her eyes, I was responsible for reuniting her family, although we all know that's not true. I don't even know this woman's name, but the 20 minutes I spent with her on the phone will not be forgotten soon. Calls like hers are the reason I do the job I do~

The Scars of Life

by Just_Lin

Living a life is messy business and no one gets out unmarked. Our scars tell a story. They are like little vignettes of our lives. The other day my eyes settled on a slightly curved scar that I have over the joint where my right thumb connects to my hand. It's not a very noticeable scar but what's unusual about it is that it is really a double scar, one placed precisely over the other and caused by duplicate incidents that happened several years apart. In both cases, I was washing a glass and as I pushed a sponge down into the glass, swirling in a clockwise motion, the glass broke, slicing my thumb open. Did you know that when you part the skin over your thumb it looks just like chicken bones in there?

Another scar on my right hand is equally subtle. It is about 1 1/2 inches long and is the result of a cat scratch. When I make a fist and make the skin taut across the top of my hand, I can run my other hand over the scar and it feels just like a thin string is sitting right under my skin. Considering the dozens of feral kittens I caught and domesticated over the years, it's surprising that I don't have more "cat" scars.

The oldest scar I have I can't see anymore because my thighs are no longer exposed to the sun (or the public) and I can only see it when I am tan. It is located on my right thigh and is a human bite mark. It happened when I was a young girl and a neighbor girl, only 3 or 4 at the time, bit me, for unknown reasons. I will never forget Cindy Lesh, the little twit.

Two of my scars were caused by surgeries. I had emergency surgery in '96 for a perforated ulcer and peritonitis (major infection in the abdominal cavity). I have never been in so much pain in my life and the situation was life threatening. As a result of that surgery, I have a scar that begins on my chest right at the bottom edge of my bra and runs through my belly button and about three inches farther down. It's about one inch wide and definitely indicates that something formidable happened there. Eight months later I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and they slit my throat, literally, and removed my thyroid gland. It was really unsatisfactory when I woke up in the middle of the surgery and began pushing everyone's hands away because they were making my neck hurt like a mofo. Boy, was I pissed, too!

It's not noticeable, except to me, but everyday when I put on my makeup, I come to an area in my left eyebrow where the hair doesn't grow right. That's because there is a small scar there where my first husband hit me in the face with a baby bottle. I was holding the baby at the time. That's only a little, insignificant scar. It's the invisible scars he left that are the worst.

Beach Boys!

Chosen by Iteach

My father always wanted to be one of the Beach Boys. It didn't quite happen, but he still loves their music. When I was a little girl he would play their 8-track in the car all the time. I can remember falling asleep in the car to him singing 409. Then as a teenager he would play them in the garage and I could hear his music from my lawn chair. I was a sun worshipper back then and I would once again fall asleep in the sun to the Beach Boys. When my dad hit 50 and after a few beers he decided to make his life dream come true. Him and his buddies dyed their hair blond, so that they could be beach boys. That lasted for a whole year and boy did he look goofy. I think back to it now and just smile. So today's blog is in honor of my dad.

Smile :O)

Many years ago as a teen, music was my world. I adored my teen music, and each group that surfaced, was just another one to adore. The Jackson Five was of course one of them. Michael Jackson in particular had my attention. His voice, his songs, his moves, I was in awe. He was part of my growing up, and each new song, with each new year was my favorite. I danced to all his songs, and new the words to most of them. When music videos started to surface, his are what I loved the most. As time went on and music changed, it seemed so did Michael Jackson. I lost touch with this odd fellow, he started to do things I quite did not understand, so I pulled away, as I did, I felt that many people from my generation were doing the same and thinking the same word "weird".

As I saw him age and change many of his facial features, including his color, I was disgusted at what he become. The allegations of his child abuse, just proved to me that he was a man with many mental issues. I could not look at him anymore, or even listen to his songs without pure disgust.

When I heard of his passing, I felt bad, but yet could not understand my feelings because of what I once felt. I was so upset that the country had gone crazy with his passing as it seemed life stopped all around us, and it was all about Michael passing. What upset me the most was his passing is probably due to overdosing on drugs which to me is so unnecessary. Why should we honor a man such as this?

On Tuesday I needed to see for myself this memorial that I was sure was going to be a spectacular circus romp. When I saw his casket carried in by his brothers, something hit me like a ton of bricks. He was human, he was a father, a brother, a son. As people started to eulogized him, I was drawn in, and my heart began to cry. I had never thought of him as a human these past several years, he had turned into a Ogre for me. Yet, I never ever thought of him always being surrounded by paparazzi and spectator's when perhaps he just went to a store. He was never able to be "normal" his life was so far from what we know, that the sympathy in me grew for him. And I started to understand.

His memorial was a sweet surprise, done so well, so tasteful (except for Al Sharpton, who I can't stand, so I hit mute). What the memorial did for me was humanized him, something I had so forgotten. His children are beautiful and very real, no masks, no running, just there real and true, he was their Daddy, good, bad or indifferent, a father to them, it is what they knew, he was who they loved.

What stands out the most is of course Paris's farewell to her father, however, for me its when Jermaine sang Michael's favorite song (which I had no idea it was his favorite) "Smile" I could not help but think. "Smiles they are my favorite as well". Whenever I write a letter or comment, I always end with "Smiles" it has become my trademark. Smiles are so important, as you can see in the words.

Smile tho' your heart is aching,
Smile even tho' it's breaking,
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by,

If you smile
thro' your fear and sorrow,
Smile and maybe tomorrow,
You'll see the sun come shin-ing thro' for you

Light up your face with gladness,
Hide ev-'ry trace of sadness,
Al -'tho a tear may be ever so near,

That's the time,
You must keep on trying,
Smile, what's the use of crying,
You'll find that life is still worth-while,

If you just smile

:O)

It sounds very simple, a smile. But you have to wonder, when one such as he is so trapped in a world unknown to us, how simple could it have really been.

"AIRLINE SAFETY T & A"

by DeeDee

Air New Zealand has hit on a novel way to make sure even the most jaded flyers keep their eyes glued on its flight safety briefing. Did you watch it? What they have come up with is pure genius! Because nobody ever really watches those things or pays attention….perhaps because we are so sure that nothing will go wrong with our flight.

Well if you didn’t watch the safety video you may want to when I tell you the Air New Zealand crew is nude……they are wearing body paint to look like their usual uniforms……

Although the chance of your ever needing this information is extremely unlikely….this makes it fun to watch…..in the behind the scenes video check out the bums on the two flight deck officers as they pass through the airport…..woof!!

And that muscle bound ramp worker in the yellow shirt!!?? He can work my ramp any day!!

State Quarters

by EBJ

One day, back in 1998, I was in Walgreens Drug Store. Something caught my eye on one of the shelves, a large, flat box that said "State Quarter Collection".

I picked up a box and was surprised to read that each year from 1999 to 2008, the U.S. Mint would release quarters by state. They would release 5 quarters per year, in the order they were admitted to the union.

The quarters would be specially designed and have a special meaning for that particular state. When the California quarter was being designed, they had a web site that you could go to and vote on designs that had been submitted. I think Arnold had the final say, however.

Well, I picked up several boxes and bought them, thinking they would make great Christmas gifts.

When 1999 arrived, I started looking for the very first quarter, Delaware. It took forever to get one. The quarters were released about every 10 weeks or so, and I would always be on the lookout.

So today, the map is still not complete! My most recent find was a couple weeks ago, I got a Wyoming, from 2007.

These days, thanx to the debit card, neither me nor MR. EBJ pay with cash too often, so we don't get a lot of change or quarters.

When I do get quarters, I always look! I have asked cashiers if I can check their quarters or traded people if they have one I need.

I still need:

2006 North Dakota

2007 Montana, Washington, Idaho, Utah

2008 Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona

I gave MR. EBJ a quarter map shortly after we started dating, and he is missing:

2007 Montana, Wyoming

2008 Hawaii, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona

Click Here for the web site where you can see each quarter in detail.

Does anyone else in the nest collect the state quarters? If you do, have you gotten all of them?

"Bernie"

by Mary/MI

I met Bernie when I was in grade school. He always had a crush on me, but to me he was just like a Brother. I will always remember his sweet smile. I often wonder how our lives would have been, had we ever connected. Here is the story of Bernie's last day on earth.

Bernie(baby face) Began his tour of duty May 23,1968. At the age of 20 yrs. Corp. Rosales was killed in action in the Province of Long An South Vietnam, while checking on a fallen Comrade. Before 25hrs passed, Bernie's body had been airlifted and repatriated to his family in Ithaca MI. Joe Rambo was there to see, feel, and cry for Bernie. Yes Bernie always had a smile on his face.

How Bernie died:

We were at close quarters around a "hooch". Charlie Co. was coming in on the other side. There was a VC/NVA, in a bunker we didn't see, and he shot & killed this guy from Charlie Co. After the VC was eliminated, Bernie walked up and leaned his rifle against the "hooch" & bent over to see if the guy was dead. There were two VC in the "spider hole", which was impossible to see. One of them shot Bernie....there were tears shed. We then eliminated those two VC . Later we captured 2 more.We had to stay the night in a defensive position until the next day. Bernie's body was airlifted that night along with 2 prisoners.The Co. Commander told the Battalion Commander if he didn't come to get the prisoners,they may not live through the night. I think he was probably right.We were not in the best of moods.....

Written by Joe RamboECHO,2ND BN 39th Infantry 9th Division US Army

Bernie was remembered with much love by his friends and family and classmates at Ithaca High Class of 1966. He is remembered with great pride and honor by his Comrades of Echo Co. 1st Recondos Bernie's name is etched in marble of the wall Panel 44w,line019.

PS
When anyone was KIA, the Co. Commander wrote a letter to the parents or wife. I remember Bernie's Mother wrote back and sent us all a box of cookies, goodies etc. From my recollection the letter was in Spanish. Unfortunately for us, none of us could read it.