The doctor walked briskly into the examination room and directly to where the patient lay in obvious pain. "So what seems to be the problem?", he asked.
The patient, rather than describing his injury, which is what the doctor expected, launched into to an exceptionally convoluted accounting of the incident that apparently led to his eventual arrival at the ER.
"OK. So it's really kind of silly, but it's not really my fault. The owner of the gym even admitted that the stupid thing was too close to the wall. But they bought all of this new stuff and had to really crowd everything in there and they just put it too close to the wall. *Deep breath* Anyway, I was getting up to speed gradually--just passing 4 and a half miles an hour--when I first noticed that there were mirrors on 3 sides of me and I could see myself in all 3 at the same time. Although the third one I could only see as a reflection in the other 2. Then there was the reflection of my reflection in the one in front of me and I could see the reflection of that reflection in the one behind me as a reflection in the one in front of me. And it seemed to go on endlessly, just one reflection of another one of another one. So I wanted to see if I could actually see all the way to the end of them to the very last one. You know, what it would be like--my back or my front at the very end. I guess it was about the time I was getting up to full speed--maybe 6 and a half miles an hour--that I sort of lost focus on what I was doing because of the mirrors and I fell. Then, of course, the belt kept on going and swept me off the back of the thing and then because the wall was too close, like I said before, I was pinned between the belt and the wall lying on my back against the belt and it just kept turning. I know I probably should have used the emergency stop cord, but nobody uses them. Heck, most of them are tied around the bars out of the way. And I couldn't get up because I was more or less trapped there until a couple of the other people came and grabbed me and pulled me off of the thing. Then the ambulance came and they...."
Finally the doctor interrupted and asked, "Where are you hurt?" And the patient rolled to one side so the doc could see his back and there was a symmetrical hollow all the way across his it just below the shoulder blades that was nothing but raw meat and blood. "You're telling me you did this by falling off of a treadmill?!!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah", the patient said. "That's what that whole story was about. I should get a hell of a settlement out of it," he smiled.
The doctor said, very calmly, "Close your eyes for me"; which the patient did. The doctor planted his foot firmly against the wall of the examination room, for leverage, and punched the guy dead in the face. "Idiot", he mumbled as he walked out.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
RUSH LIMBAUGH IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!!!!!
Ok. That's it. Nothing else. Just needed to get that out of my system. Carry on now.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Patchwork
It has been noted that from great heights--from a plane, for example--the earth looks like a patchwork. Different sections of land joining together at odd angles. Shades of greens and browns butting together and overlapping. Blues and blacks intermingled.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Music
I wonder what it is about the music of our youth (and I'm speaking mostly to those of us who are old enough to look back at least somewhat wistfully) that transports us. Not all of the music from that time does it, but there are songs or artists or albums (that's what CD's used to be called before there were CD's, kids) that create strong emotional responses within us. They take us back in time and can make us feel like we did then. Especially if there is a particular event in our lives that we associate with a song or a group.
And I also wonder what it is about personalities that makes some of us eagerly seek these little side trips of life and some of us dread them. I had many awkward times as a teenager; many uncomfortable moments, times when I did or said something that I regretted or that was stupid and made me look foolish. There was pain and sadness like all people have in there lives. But that's not where I go when I go back. There's a fullness to the memories I have; a sense of longing for that time; a sense that it was good. I remember laughter that was easy and sincere, a sense of invulnerability and great good fortune, a belief that I could make the world better in some way. And there's a tonic in those memories that helps me to believe many of those things are still possible. Even without a teenager's idealism, vigor and ligaments, I can laugh with my friends and know that the life I have is filled with goodness and believe that there are things I can do every day to make the world a better place--for me and for others. I can look at the scars I've acquired--on my body and on my heart--and still know that God has a plan; that, in spite of the pain and carnage we've come to take for granted, human beings are capable of the most profound acts of kindness and love and courage. I can feel gratitude and freedom. I can feel the late spring sun shining on my face and revel in life itself--the sheer joy of being alive and in the universe.
I no longer believe that I am invulnerable to the ravages of time in this world, but I am invulnerable nonetheless. I am more comfortable with my own human-ness. I accept that I am not without faults. I turn my face to the sun each day with hope in spite of them; hope for my future, for the future of my family--my children. I refuse to wring my hands in frustration over the failures of the past or in desperation about the supposed inadequacies of the generation to which we will give way. I have seen them do great things even in the midst of facing greater challenges than we ever imagined. I see them care about things deeply. I see them seek God in spite of our poor example.
I have not accomplished all that I hoped to, but I have accomplished things I did not expect to--and I yet live. There is still time to do more.
My life is not as I imagined it would be all those years ago when I spent time imagining such things. But it is as God knew it would be, and I'm still here. There is some affirmation in that.
We complain so much--about politics, religion, our health, our neighbors, our kids, our spouses, the economy. Stop bitching. Stop it. Please. Stop complaining and act. Act out of love and respect for other people. Act out of a sense of our own fallibility, knowing that we will make mistakes because that's what humans do. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we don't.
Forgive. Love. Temper anger with understanding; regret with faith; failure with fortitude. See the beauty in this world; see it even when it seems to be hidden by tragedy. In fact, don't just see it, but seek it out. Hunt for it as if your life depends on it.
Jesus said, "I have come so that you might have life and have it in a way that is fuller than anything you can ever imagine or understand." Live. Live fully. And listen to the songs of your heart with expectancy.
And I also wonder what it is about personalities that makes some of us eagerly seek these little side trips of life and some of us dread them. I had many awkward times as a teenager; many uncomfortable moments, times when I did or said something that I regretted or that was stupid and made me look foolish. There was pain and sadness like all people have in there lives. But that's not where I go when I go back. There's a fullness to the memories I have; a sense of longing for that time; a sense that it was good. I remember laughter that was easy and sincere, a sense of invulnerability and great good fortune, a belief that I could make the world better in some way. And there's a tonic in those memories that helps me to believe many of those things are still possible. Even without a teenager's idealism, vigor and ligaments, I can laugh with my friends and know that the life I have is filled with goodness and believe that there are things I can do every day to make the world a better place--for me and for others. I can look at the scars I've acquired--on my body and on my heart--and still know that God has a plan; that, in spite of the pain and carnage we've come to take for granted, human beings are capable of the most profound acts of kindness and love and courage. I can feel gratitude and freedom. I can feel the late spring sun shining on my face and revel in life itself--the sheer joy of being alive and in the universe.
I no longer believe that I am invulnerable to the ravages of time in this world, but I am invulnerable nonetheless. I am more comfortable with my own human-ness. I accept that I am not without faults. I turn my face to the sun each day with hope in spite of them; hope for my future, for the future of my family--my children. I refuse to wring my hands in frustration over the failures of the past or in desperation about the supposed inadequacies of the generation to which we will give way. I have seen them do great things even in the midst of facing greater challenges than we ever imagined. I see them care about things deeply. I see them seek God in spite of our poor example.
I have not accomplished all that I hoped to, but I have accomplished things I did not expect to--and I yet live. There is still time to do more.
My life is not as I imagined it would be all those years ago when I spent time imagining such things. But it is as God knew it would be, and I'm still here. There is some affirmation in that.
We complain so much--about politics, religion, our health, our neighbors, our kids, our spouses, the economy. Stop bitching. Stop it. Please. Stop complaining and act. Act out of love and respect for other people. Act out of a sense of our own fallibility, knowing that we will make mistakes because that's what humans do. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we don't.
Forgive. Love. Temper anger with understanding; regret with faith; failure with fortitude. See the beauty in this world; see it even when it seems to be hidden by tragedy. In fact, don't just see it, but seek it out. Hunt for it as if your life depends on it.
Jesus said, "I have come so that you might have life and have it in a way that is fuller than anything you can ever imagine or understand." Live. Live fully. And listen to the songs of your heart with expectancy.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
An Oversight
In the previous post I said there were 4 who fit the description of true, lifetime friend for me, but there is a fifth who is likely the most steadfast of all. She and I have been through much together and have managed to stay in touch with some frequency through all these years. Perhaps that is why I forgot to include her. We did not just reconnect, we have stayed connected. She was the first friend I made at college and possibly the best. She has never judged me, in spite all of the times she probably should have. And I can only think of a very few times that she was ever really angry with me; again, in spite of all of the times when she probably should have been. A patient listener and an honest advisor, she is dear to me.
More evidence that we can so quickly overlook those who are nearest to us.
More evidence that we can so quickly overlook those who are nearest to us.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Old Friends
I have met and known a lot of people in my lifetime--a LOT of people. More than the average person I'm almost certain. In fact, I saw a statistic a few years ago that said the average American will have the opportunity to influence 10,000 people during their lifetime. I'm guessing I've already hit that mark.
But the interesting thing about that number, which seems outrageous on the surface, is that out of that number I can probably narrow down the list of good friends that I have had--and I mean the kind of friends that are lifetime members of the club; where neither distance nor time nor circumstances nor any of the other myriad incumberences of life--(which means I still have them) to a number that fits on my fingers without having to use any of them twice. And I don't know if that is a sad thing, a common thing, a remarkable thing.........It can make me melancholy if I'm not careful; and I'm not one given to melancholy thoughts.
My suspicion is that it is typical; that most of us go through life making friends who are really acquaintances when it comes right down to it. They are people we know; that we like to hang out with. They're fun and funny, but they are not the missing piece to the puzzle we are trying to find.They are not bad people, usually just the opposite. They are likeable and dependable. We can count on them in a pinch and we'll miss them when they're gone, but they will eventually go--never to reappear.
But that handful--that favored few who stick to our lives no matter what; those are the ones I've been thinking about lately. And most of the ones who are that for me were made while I was in college the first time, right out of high school. And it is Facebook, of all things, that has me in this odd sort of humor.
You see, about 2 or 3 months ago a reasonably large number of people form that time in my life started to show up on FB. Or, actually, we began to find out that we were all on there; most of us having been on there for a while. And the most important out of that handful I've been talking about are present. Some of whom I have not spoken with for 25 years until just recently. And it was as if we had only been apart for a few days. There was no discomfort; no uncomfortable silences or feeling out. We fit. Seamlessly. Effortlessly.
I wonder, how many people go through life without ever experiencing that. How many people live all their years isolated from the realization that those relationships must be guarded as stingily as their last breath. I wonder how many times I sat uneasily, aimlessly casting about in my own mind for an explanation for my restlessness--not realizing that it all pointed to the missing pieces that are those friends. The real friends I have made. The people whose influence has always been present in my life regardless of the miles or the years. The longing was real but the answer was given to me 25 years ago.
For me, there are 4 people who fit: one from my service days (which followed immediately after my college days, coincidentally); and 3 from college. I have had a chance to sit with 2 of them face-to-face since November and have chatted, messaged and spoken on the phone with the other 2. And in each circumstance there has been no need to try and reassociate or reconnect. The trust and comfort with each other was immediate. It is, perhaps, one of the most encouraging experiences of my life. It gives me a sense that life does not necessarily pass us by, oblivious to our needs or desires. My faith and my family sustain me, but these friends are vital to me both emotionally and spiritually. And I feel immensely blessed and fortunate to have found that out in the middle of my life. I fear that so many either never realize it, or find it out far too late.
Twenty-five years of life have made us different people to be certain, but our bond, which is a bond of love, has kept us the same. I believe melancholy is fed by yearning, and cured by recognizing our blessedness through our friends--the real ones; that diminutive number of people we need and love regardless.
But the interesting thing about that number, which seems outrageous on the surface, is that out of that number I can probably narrow down the list of good friends that I have had--and I mean the kind of friends that are lifetime members of the club; where neither distance nor time nor circumstances nor any of the other myriad incumberences of life--(which means I still have them) to a number that fits on my fingers without having to use any of them twice. And I don't know if that is a sad thing, a common thing, a remarkable thing.........It can make me melancholy if I'm not careful; and I'm not one given to melancholy thoughts.
My suspicion is that it is typical; that most of us go through life making friends who are really acquaintances when it comes right down to it. They are people we know; that we like to hang out with. They're fun and funny, but they are not the missing piece to the puzzle we are trying to find.They are not bad people, usually just the opposite. They are likeable and dependable. We can count on them in a pinch and we'll miss them when they're gone, but they will eventually go--never to reappear.
But that handful--that favored few who stick to our lives no matter what; those are the ones I've been thinking about lately. And most of the ones who are that for me were made while I was in college the first time, right out of high school. And it is Facebook, of all things, that has me in this odd sort of humor.
You see, about 2 or 3 months ago a reasonably large number of people form that time in my life started to show up on FB. Or, actually, we began to find out that we were all on there; most of us having been on there for a while. And the most important out of that handful I've been talking about are present. Some of whom I have not spoken with for 25 years until just recently. And it was as if we had only been apart for a few days. There was no discomfort; no uncomfortable silences or feeling out. We fit. Seamlessly. Effortlessly.
I wonder, how many people go through life without ever experiencing that. How many people live all their years isolated from the realization that those relationships must be guarded as stingily as their last breath. I wonder how many times I sat uneasily, aimlessly casting about in my own mind for an explanation for my restlessness--not realizing that it all pointed to the missing pieces that are those friends. The real friends I have made. The people whose influence has always been present in my life regardless of the miles or the years. The longing was real but the answer was given to me 25 years ago.
For me, there are 4 people who fit: one from my service days (which followed immediately after my college days, coincidentally); and 3 from college. I have had a chance to sit with 2 of them face-to-face since November and have chatted, messaged and spoken on the phone with the other 2. And in each circumstance there has been no need to try and reassociate or reconnect. The trust and comfort with each other was immediate. It is, perhaps, one of the most encouraging experiences of my life. It gives me a sense that life does not necessarily pass us by, oblivious to our needs or desires. My faith and my family sustain me, but these friends are vital to me both emotionally and spiritually. And I feel immensely blessed and fortunate to have found that out in the middle of my life. I fear that so many either never realize it, or find it out far too late.
Twenty-five years of life have made us different people to be certain, but our bond, which is a bond of love, has kept us the same. I believe melancholy is fed by yearning, and cured by recognizing our blessedness through our friends--the real ones; that diminutive number of people we need and love regardless.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A Little Catching Up--Part II
Other than the incident with our so-called friend, we have had a pretty good couple of months since the last posts. Pastor Vasile and his son, Daniel, (they are from the church where we went on our mission trip this past summer) came to America in November and were in St. Louis for a little over a week during the Thanksgiving holidays. We hosted them and a number of our friends for dinner on the holiday. We had the gathering at our church youth building so there would be more room and less mess at our house. The food was amazing and we had a really great time. Pastor Ian (pronounced Yon) is an amazing man of God. I admire him a great deal.
We were able to go home (to Alabama) for Christmas this year and that visit was excellent. We stayed for 9 days, which is a bit longer than our normal visits, but it worked out OK. It was almost over before we really started to wish we could go home. We love our families, but there's close and then there's too close. Living in Mom and Dad's house is no longer optimal. I did get to go hunting with my dad several times and we saw a lot of my sister and her family. I am very excited about moving back there in a year and a half. I can't wait. I miss the South and I miss my people.
Sandi's dad has a girlfriend now (her mom passed almost 2 years ago) and he's like a kid again. He really likes her and she's a great lady. Sandi and I went to high school with her kids; the ages were staggered, but we all knew each other. In fact, I played football with her son. She's really full of life and they are constantly going places and doing stuff together. I think it's been, and will continue to be, great for both of them. And Sandi and her brother are both very supportive, which her dad was worried about.
Our kids are doing very well, although they have both learned to dislike school now. Not sure where that came from. Well, the older one has always kind of been that way. Not that it matters, because it's not like they have a choice. Right?
My job is going very well. I find that I like being a manager more and more and that I like being in safety more and more. How blessed is that? So many people hate their jobs--the title and the work itself. And I suppose a big part of what makes me like it is that I am good at it. I wasn't sure that would be the case when I first jumped off into it. I have an inkling that my attraction to it has something to do with how closely it mirrors ministry. Don't laugh. Getting people to support and adhere to safety processes, regardless of their position within the company, is not really disimilar to getting people (who, remember, don't have to do what you say in church because they are there voluntarily) to rally around the cause of Christ and support the direction you are trying to take them. You have to inspire, lead by example, wield influence subtly, etc. in each circumstance. Or, at least that's my style in both. And how well I do my job can have profound influences in both arenas; although one is obviously moreso than the other. But you get my point.
I have another interesting thing that has been going on over the last several weeks, but that's for the next post.
We were able to go home (to Alabama) for Christmas this year and that visit was excellent. We stayed for 9 days, which is a bit longer than our normal visits, but it worked out OK. It was almost over before we really started to wish we could go home. We love our families, but there's close and then there's too close. Living in Mom and Dad's house is no longer optimal. I did get to go hunting with my dad several times and we saw a lot of my sister and her family. I am very excited about moving back there in a year and a half. I can't wait. I miss the South and I miss my people.
Sandi's dad has a girlfriend now (her mom passed almost 2 years ago) and he's like a kid again. He really likes her and she's a great lady. Sandi and I went to high school with her kids; the ages were staggered, but we all knew each other. In fact, I played football with her son. She's really full of life and they are constantly going places and doing stuff together. I think it's been, and will continue to be, great for both of them. And Sandi and her brother are both very supportive, which her dad was worried about.
Our kids are doing very well, although they have both learned to dislike school now. Not sure where that came from. Well, the older one has always kind of been that way. Not that it matters, because it's not like they have a choice. Right?
My job is going very well. I find that I like being a manager more and more and that I like being in safety more and more. How blessed is that? So many people hate their jobs--the title and the work itself. And I suppose a big part of what makes me like it is that I am good at it. I wasn't sure that would be the case when I first jumped off into it. I have an inkling that my attraction to it has something to do with how closely it mirrors ministry. Don't laugh. Getting people to support and adhere to safety processes, regardless of their position within the company, is not really disimilar to getting people (who, remember, don't have to do what you say in church because they are there voluntarily) to rally around the cause of Christ and support the direction you are trying to take them. You have to inspire, lead by example, wield influence subtly, etc. in each circumstance. Or, at least that's my style in both. And how well I do my job can have profound influences in both arenas; although one is obviously moreso than the other. But you get my point.
I have another interesting thing that has been going on over the last several weeks, but that's for the next post.
A Little Catching Up
It has been what seems like forever since my last post. A lot has happened during that time. I won't burden you with all of it, but I'll try to fill in some of the spaces.
First, our friend with cancer has moved out. She is in remission and the prognosis at this time seems to be for a full recovery. She had the cancerous kidney removed and the other places where it had appeared are either gone or shrinking. Good news for her. But there's more to the story. She did not leave because she was ready to. We asked her to.
When we first learned of her condition and decided to ask her to live with us (see previous posts), we also knew that we were going to need to find a way to help her financially so that she could get back out on her own once her condition improved. Otherwise, knowing her as we do, we knew that she would not be able to leave because she would never come up with the money on her own, nor would her family help out. Thus we decided to have a fundraiser. There is a surprisingly close network of people in the real estate business in this area and many of them know her and many more know Sandi and the lady that she works for. So they (Sandi and her boss) set about organizing a trivia night with all the proceeds to be placed into a trust for our friend. Sandi and I would be named as executors of the trust because we knew that if she had control over the money it would be blown long before she could move out of our house and, well, let's just say that would be bad.
The event was a success with many people from the real estate community as well as our church responding generously. We raised nearly $5000 for her. Sandi and I went to the bank and made all of the arrangements and deposited the money. We told her how the trust would be set up and why. The money was to be held until she was well enough to move on and none of it would be spent until then and it wasn't. That was in early September.
In November we received a call from the bank asking a bunch of questions about the account. It felt very much like an accusation. As we pressed the guy from the bank for details he told us that our friend had been in that day, unbeknownst to us, seeking access to the funds. It had set off some sort of inquiry and the end result was that the bank told us that we could not have the account as it had been originally intended. We had to give her the money and close the account. It made us both pretty angry (actually, Sandi was fit to be tied) to be placed under such scrutiny when we had done nothing wrong--only tried to help. And it demonstrated yet again that our 'friend' has no real concept of the nature of friendship or self-control. When Sandi confronted her (remember, she didn't know that the bank had spilled the beans) she tried to deny everything and when that didn't work she tried to make excuses and say the bank had misunderstood her intent.
To keep a long story from getting any longer, the final result was that we told her she could no longer live with us. I gave her until the end of January to find a place and move. We knew that if we didn't get her out of our house soon the money would be spent and then there would be real trouble. The funny thing is that she ended up moving in with the guy I talked about several posts ago who has pined away for her for so long.
I could go on and on about this, but I'm tired of talking about it. The end.
First, our friend with cancer has moved out. She is in remission and the prognosis at this time seems to be for a full recovery. She had the cancerous kidney removed and the other places where it had appeared are either gone or shrinking. Good news for her. But there's more to the story. She did not leave because she was ready to. We asked her to.
When we first learned of her condition and decided to ask her to live with us (see previous posts), we also knew that we were going to need to find a way to help her financially so that she could get back out on her own once her condition improved. Otherwise, knowing her as we do, we knew that she would not be able to leave because she would never come up with the money on her own, nor would her family help out. Thus we decided to have a fundraiser. There is a surprisingly close network of people in the real estate business in this area and many of them know her and many more know Sandi and the lady that she works for. So they (Sandi and her boss) set about organizing a trivia night with all the proceeds to be placed into a trust for our friend. Sandi and I would be named as executors of the trust because we knew that if she had control over the money it would be blown long before she could move out of our house and, well, let's just say that would be bad.
The event was a success with many people from the real estate community as well as our church responding generously. We raised nearly $5000 for her. Sandi and I went to the bank and made all of the arrangements and deposited the money. We told her how the trust would be set up and why. The money was to be held until she was well enough to move on and none of it would be spent until then and it wasn't. That was in early September.
In November we received a call from the bank asking a bunch of questions about the account. It felt very much like an accusation. As we pressed the guy from the bank for details he told us that our friend had been in that day, unbeknownst to us, seeking access to the funds. It had set off some sort of inquiry and the end result was that the bank told us that we could not have the account as it had been originally intended. We had to give her the money and close the account. It made us both pretty angry (actually, Sandi was fit to be tied) to be placed under such scrutiny when we had done nothing wrong--only tried to help. And it demonstrated yet again that our 'friend' has no real concept of the nature of friendship or self-control. When Sandi confronted her (remember, she didn't know that the bank had spilled the beans) she tried to deny everything and when that didn't work she tried to make excuses and say the bank had misunderstood her intent.
To keep a long story from getting any longer, the final result was that we told her she could no longer live with us. I gave her until the end of January to find a place and move. We knew that if we didn't get her out of our house soon the money would be spent and then there would be real trouble. The funny thing is that she ended up moving in with the guy I talked about several posts ago who has pined away for her for so long.
I could go on and on about this, but I'm tired of talking about it. The end.
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