We have all become accustomed to on-line shopping, me included. But have you ever taken a moment to think about the driver of a UPS or Fed-Ex truck? My son is a UPS driver, going on 25 years with the company. His shoulders are shot from all the heavy lifting, the eighteen (or so) inch step out of and into the truck over 200 times a day has gotten to his knees and he gets to see his daughter on weekends, because at the age of five, she is usually in bed by the time he gets home at night. On an exceptionally light delivery day during the year he might get home by 7pm; between Thanksgiving and Christmas it is usually close to 10pm. I’m not trying to complain, just educate. Yes, he makes good money, but it comes with a price. Continue reading “Delivery Drivers”
Today is George Washington’s birthday. When I was young, we recognized it on this day, the day it really was, not a convenient Monday so some people could have a three day weekend.
Anyway, it is also my son’s birthday today. His father and I had planned to name him Dustin, from the time we talked about having children. Just before he was born, we found out there was another boy in our little town with that name and the same last name (not related), so the plan changed. In the early-to-mid seventies, the boys names, Joshua, Jeremy, and Jason were extremely popular, courtesy of the TV show “Here Come the Brides”. We picked Jeremy, and added Michael for a middle name thinking he could use that if he didn’t like Jeremy. He goes by J.
When he was born on George’s birthday I suggested we name him that because it was my father’s name, one of our close friend’s name, and it was the 22nd. Thankfully his father disagreed with me and won the discussion. The picture above is a few years old.
I am very proud of my son. He works over 50 hours a week as a UPS driver, plays all weekend with his four year old daughter, and has a good relationship with his fiancé. When they come to family dinner we have a lot of laughs, he does little things around the house for me, and I can go shopping in the town he delivers in and happily admit who I am. It’s a great pleasure to always hear, “Your son is such a good man!”
Happy Birthday Jeremy. Mom loves you.
August 11 is designated to spend some quality time with your youngsters or if grown, give them a call and tell them how special they are.
I’m lucky; I have one of each that are my own that live with-in an hour of us. We get together once a month for a family meal. The rest of the time I have to be content with texts, and calls because everyone is so busy. I also have some bonus-kids. The definition of that is children I claim as my own, but didn’t have to go through child birth for. That can apply to step children or any others you “adopt” along the way.
One of those ‘along the way children’ is a good friend of my husband’s son. Jon is from California but went to graduate school at the Newhouse School of Broadcasting in Syracuse, NY, then got a job near us. It is our privilege to be called his and his wife’s Rochester parents. We rescued him when he locked himself out of his apartment, loaned them a car, had them over for dinner, made sure they had birthday pies, drove them to the airport when needed, etc.; everything a parent would do except loan them money. They are now back in California and we miss them wandering in and out of the house. Their picture is on our mantle along with the natural kids.
I have an unproven premise about why a person is attracted to a certain type or look of another person, in the realm of girlfriend and boyfriend. Both of my kids first playmates of the opposite sex were blondies. I’m talking sitting on a blanket sharing blocks and Tupperware containers age. As teens and now adults, they are both still attracted to blonds first. My first boy friend was half American Indian. The male I notice first in a crowd, even today, has the darkest hair and eyes in the room. Like I said, I have no proof I’m right. Think about your own children and see if it applies to them, or yourself.
If you can’t see your children today, think about all the joy they have added to your life, yes, and heartache too. No matter how old our children get, they are still our babies. I think I’ll text mine and tell them I love them.