Vienna, Departure Day Friday, 10/07/2016

 On Friday, the day for us to leave on our trip, both of us had to go to work and it SO difficult.  We were so excited to get started on this new adventure.  We have enjoyed other trips together and each one is a treasured memory in our minds.  We forgo expensive toys, jewelry and expensive items in order to enjoy our love for travel which is something we both share.

I had lunch with Nikki, Matt and the boys, which made the day pass much better and then left work early for home so I could handle any last minute details and packing.  Our friend Cheryl will be house sitting and taking care of Oliver and Livy.   That is really the only thing we will miss for the next week, our little dogs, but they will be in good hands with Cheryl and her three dogs. 

We finally were ready to go and left for the Airport.  I felt the same excitement and exhilaration whenever we set off on a road trip or adventure.  We will be making memories that last our lifetime.  Pictures in our heads and hearts, that never go away.

A word about Turkish Airlines, they are the BEST.  Checkin was quick and easy, they served great food, the flight attnedants are not surly or sulky, they seem to really like their jobs.  There were two full meals served on the plane and these small delicious cheese sandwiches and little cakes available anytime you wanted one. We lucked out because we were able to change to an empty row and have an empty seat between us.  For a 11 hour flight, this is a must.  From now on, I'll book the window seat and aisle seat in hopes that no one will want the middle seat.  If they do take it, they will look for another seat once on board.  We will fly Turkish Airlines from now on if at all possible.

We checked in, checked the bags, slung our travel backpacks over our shoulders and grinned at each other like a couple of kids about to eat cake……

Last minute excursion to the city... The best kind!

In 2012...This morning we woke up knowing it was going to be a STEllAR day and decided to jump on the train and head into the city. The plan was to go to Central Park and then to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see two exhibits. One is the works of Augustus Saint-Gaudens and the other was titled The Art of the Samurai.

We got to Penn Station and hopped on the A train.

Preparing for Vienna 2016

In two weeks we leave for Vienna! We will be flying from George Bush International to Istanbul Turkey, have a three-hour layover there and then fly on to Vienna. Anticipation of the trip is really fun but we are ready to get going.

We will arrive there late Saturday night and hopefully get straight to bed in order to make the jetlag a little less painful. The next day we will see some of Vienna in the morning and then take the train to Budapest, Hungary. We are set to spend one night in Budapest returning to Vienna the next evening. On Tuesday morning we plan to pick up a rental car and leave on a short road trip that will take us to Salzburg,  part of Italy and back to Vienna through the Italian and Austrian Alps.

We will return to Vienna late Wednesday and plan to take a catamaran to Bratislava on Thursday returning to Vienna that evening. https://www.visitbratislava.com/your-trip/stay-in-the-city/1-day-stay/.

We will be all day in Vienna on Friday and then leave very early on Saturday to return home....  So hard to wait ... Charles' count down clock says, 11 days, 9 hours and 34 min to departure....

Oliver

I miss my Lady... Could it only be a WEEK?

Today, I miss Lady.  Well, I miss Lady every day but this morning I went to the closet to pull out a scarf because it’s cold out and after I put it on, I immediately noticed it had Lady’s hair on it.  It hit me like a train, she wasn’t here anymore, pretty soon I will stop seeing her hair everywhere and I was immediately sorry for all the times I cursed my luck at getting a dog that shed so much.   Tears ran down my face as I swore to myself, “if I could just have her back, I wouldn’t care if she shed pounds of hair every day.”  I see something of her every time I round the corner in my house, in the car, at the park, driving down my street, sitting in the back yard, watching TV on my bed.  She is in all these places because that is what we did together…. Everything.  My interaction with Lady was more than any of my friends and family including Charles.Our little conversations and interactions both physical and emotional went on everyday for 17 years.  I read a really good article by Joe Yonan at The Washington Post, https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/the-death-of-pet-can-hurt-as-much-as-the-loss-of-a-relative/2012/02/21/gIQALXTXcS_story.html

Here is an excerpt from the article that stuck with me, 

“Over the course of 13 years, for instance, the same thing would happen with Gromit every morning. I would sit on my bed to put on my shoes, and he would drape himself across my lap. I would scratch his butt and he would reward me with a big sloppy kiss. Recently, I did the math: Accounting for the times I was traveling without him, this interaction happened more than 4,000 times.”

I really identified with this thought.  Lady and I had so many such rituals.  After she was older, she had a bed in the living room and beside my bed.  She would sleep in the living room and when I was ready to go to bed, I’d let her out and brush my teeth while I waited for her.  When she came in, she knew it was time for her to go to her “real” bed, the one beside mine.  She never liked sleeping with me.  She would often start the night off there but would invariably get up in the middle of the night and move to her bed.  This got harder for her after she couldn’t see at night very well and would worry about jumping off the bed.  We did this every night.  Even when we traveled, we took her with us and she still had this nighttime ritual. 

Nights are very hard.  Coming home and not seeing her little face in the window or waiting for me at the door, dancing around and running for the back door to go out as soon as she got the “nice to see you “ pats.  Charles will be out of town for two days next week and I’m dreading it with a passion.  I might go stay with my daughter just to avoid it.  I hate it when Charles has to stay away from home but the one thing that made it better was that I could spend unlimited silly time with Lady.  We would take our dinner to bed and she would lay with me all night.  When he was gone, she would usually stay on the bed all night.  Did she know I needed her?

When Harley died, it was really really hard but I had Lady to help me get by…. We grieved for our friend together.  With Lady now there is deadly quiet everywhere I go.

I really recommend anyone going through this to read the article by Joe Yonan.. it was a big help to me.

It's Morning and I'm not Headed to Work!

It's 7:00 am and I'm still sitting here drinking coffee and watching the news.  I like Charlie Rose but it's not natural.  I just saw a picture of the light grey sky of NYC in the morning.  I could almost smell the coffee from the carts and taste the donuts that I bought with guilt on my walk into work.  Moments on the train, running down a list of what to do first when I get to work are just a memory now.

I want to be at work.  I can't find a job.  But here is the thing, I'm embarrassed about it.  WHY am I embarrassed about it?  Since I started looking for a new job which, was actually when I was still in New York in August of 2014, I have kept a very detailed spreadsheet of who I applied to, the date and the outcome of that application.  The tally is now at 240 applications that include small companies, headhunters, non profits and large corporations.  There are several corporations that I have applied to many times.  I do not apply to jobs that I don't qualify for although lately, out of desperation, I've been trying to stretch my limits and apply for job types that I have never thought of before.  That doesn't seem to be working for me either.  I have tried everything.  I network but that hasn't helped and even when someone does try to help me, it has not ended in my getting a job.  I have adjusted my almost six figure salary in New York to half of that here in Texas and in desperation, even to the low 30's (who can live on that?).  I read articles about others my age looking for work and hear the advise from AARP that I have to adjust my expectations, both in the positions I can expect to be considered for and the salary I can demand for that role. 

I think the fact that I must give up performing in a job that I am better prepared for than many of the other candidates, is really sad.  I'm at the top of my game.  My skills are the best they have ever been,  Experience that I have honed over the last 15 years, learning the ups and downs of supporting busy executives and running an office goes untapped.  I love my work.  I'm a career office manager and executive assistant and I love the day to day tasks and problems, dealing with vendors and clients and helping staff with their needs.  I miss it more than I could have ever dreamed I would.  So why don't they want to hire me?

 I sit here in this house feeling so wasted.  I look at the hundreds of jobs out there on the job boards and I get excited. I drive down the highway looking at the multitude of office buildings and think, surely someone in there needs a really great office manager.  I look at the small industrial parks wistfully, thinking that they must need someone to keep the business going while they try to make a go of it.  I apply for every job with a new excitement.  And when each one sends a rejection or even worse, just ignores me, I fall deeper into depression about it.  It's a little like gambling, I always think the next one will be it.  I see a job description and think, "that is me, I can really make a difference there", but again, nothing.  I get little to none in the way of feedback.  Actually, the only feed back I got was, "She's a talker."  I hear that and decided to tone down my eagerness but to be honest that won't help.  Do you know why?

I'm 60 years old.  Those of you who know me will think, that age isn't a factor with me because I'm engaged and tech savy.  But let me assure you, it's true. I am so surprised at the lack of knowledge or even belief that companies wont hire you if you are 60, no matter how good you are at your job. I don't even get the chance to prove that I'm up to date with technology and an energetic worker. 

Several times, I've gotten through the interview process only to lose the job when I fill out the background check information and they figure out that I'm 60.  All of a sudden the enthusiastic HR manager or VP goes quiet.  Radio Silence and then that hated email arrives,  "We have decided to move forward with other candidates."

 I feel like I have some ideas that would make a difference.  I wonder if I can wake up others who might be in a position to make changes.  But, to do that, I would have to come out of the closet and admit to everyone that I have failed, that I am unemployed, that no one wants me as their co-worker.  I am ashamed of that and I'm not sure why.  It's not like I haven't given this job search my best efforts.  I can't just retire and just try to exist on the unrealistic social security payments I'll ge because I'm not OLD ENOUGH.  Yet, I can't work to the suggested 70 years old because no one will hire me or pay me what I'm worth.  It's a terrible situation of being between a rock and a hard place.

I'm not sure what my next steps will be but it's not in me to give up.  When I'm finally able to look at it with a less emotional perspective maybe I will write that op ed and maybe someone will publish it and maybe, just maybe workplaces will begin to change their prejudice against older workers.

9/11 My story

Today, I found a blog post that I just didn’t really have the strength to post when it was written.  It was just too raw…. Too personal…. I needed time.  But now I think it’s appropriate to make sure it’s on my blog post list and that I share the story not only for any friends or family that might see it, but mostly for me.

I had never been to NYC when I moved there.  I lived in a small town close to Houston in Texas when I moved to NYC.  I was in awe and in love with this giant behemoth of a city.  I had just been through a change in my life, making a new page and taking a very scary step forward.

I was working in midtown Manhattan and Charles had driven us into the city that day.  At the time, you could take your car on the Staten Island Ferry so that is how we entered lower Manhattan that day. I didn’t realize it then, but it would be the last time anyone was allowed to use the ferry to get a car across to the city and my own personal strength would be tested.  We were running late and if Charles took me all the way to midtown Manhattan, he would be very late for his job in the West Village. He asked  if I thought I could get the rest of the way to work by myself by taking a nearby subway. 

I must confess at this point that when it came to public transportation, I was a neophyte.  I had never even been on a train, bus or cab much less a subway.  Charles had to teach me how to use it and I was still in the baby steps level.  He pointed to a building, telling me to take the #4 train,  the light changed, people started honking so I assured him I would be fine and hurriedly got out of the car. 

The minute the door slammed I realized that I had no idea where I was, no idea where any subway was or how to find one.  At the time, I was working for a friend of a friend and she couldn’t stand me.  I really needed to keep that job and being late would be one more thing she could hold against me.  All the stress of the move, the strangers and unfamiliar surrounding just crashed in on me and I began to cry.  Out of nowhere, a man came up from behind me, touched my elbow gently and said, “You look upset, can I help?” 

With with teary eyes and in the middle of a total melt down, I sobbed to this perfect stranger, “I’m so lost, I’m supposed to get a subway but I don’t know which one or even where a subway IS.  My boss hates me and she will fire me if I’m late and I really need my job.” 

Then I looked at him, horrified to realize I was sobbing out my life to a perfect stranger and a New Yorker at that.  Weren’t they known to be rude and impatient?  I finally remembered my manners, so grateful that this wonderful man had offered to come to my rescue. I sniffled out my name, saying that I was so happy to meet him and thanked him for his offer to help.  He just smiled and said, “Come on, well get you there in plenty of time.”   Once he knew where I was going, he figured out the subway I needed and took me to the subway station.

The subway station was actually INSIDE the building that Charles had pointed out.  I had never seen a subway stop inside a building before so no wonder I couldn’t find it.  We raced for the doors that miraculously led to what I would never have guessed to be a subway entrance.  I had literally been standing right beside it for the last ten minutes as I cried. To make matters worse, in my disheveled  and embarrassed state, I couldn’t find my subway pass, so he pulled his out and swiped as he gave a little push through the turnstile.  Once on the other side, I turned to say thank you and he was gone.  Just gone.  Where was he?  I needed to thank him!  So, to the guy that took the time to calm a strange crying woman and help her get where she was going…. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I guess you are probably figuring out by now that the building I was standing by was The World Trade Center and the subway that I entered was crushed soon after I left it as the tower came down.  The saving grace for me at first, was that I had no idea that I had been at the site of the attack.  As I said earlier, I am impaired in this way, thank goodness for GPS technology.  Charles did know where he left me though and he was worried sick.  It was a week or so before he realized that I didn’t know I’d been there only minutes before the first plane hit and told me.

Once at work, Charles called to tell me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  We all thought it was an idiot that had caused a terrible disaster. But then the second plane hit and all hell broke loose.  Everyone was afraid and I was too.  I usually would go to Grand Central Station to get to downtown Manhattan and then take the ferry back to Staten Island.  My boss said I should leave so I could take the subway but I had just watched the towers fall and crush everything under them and all of New York was afraid that more attacks were coming.  No way was I going to the next most famous place in New York known to be a hub for thousands of people so I flatly refused her suggestion.

She finally sighed and said, “I guess I have to take you with me or Debbie will never forgive me.”  I remembered thinking, “Gee thanks!”

She was going to New Jersey, so we started making our way to the river to cross over.  Everyone was trying to get out and we were trying to get on a bus too.  I inadvertently let a few people in front of us.  She grabbed me by my shoulders and said, “This is no time to be a god-damned Southern bell.  Stop letting people in front of you!”  She might have been mean, but she got us on that bus and ahead of hundreds of people waiting on the river to take a boat across so I guess I have her to thank for that.

It irritated her that I went back to thank the boat captain and his crew but I knew they were staying on the job when they probably had family and friends they wanted to see to.  I wanted them to know that I realized their service and caring

It was 3:00 am in the next morning before Charles was able to figure out a way to get across to New Jersey to get me and find a way home.  Manhattan shut down all bridges onto the island but Charles found a way.  The next week that we spent hunkered down in our little basement apartment was unforgettable in so many ways.  The saddest one being, that Staten Island was home to a great majority of the firemen and policemen that lost their lives that day. Their funerals were ongoing and heartbreaking.  To this day, bagpipes still bring on such a feeling of despair as I remember the grieving families.

So today, if someone mentions to me the coldness of New Yorkers, I have speak up for them and say it isn’t true… a New Yorker probably saved my life.