Miss Carol Is Living My Dream

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," summer vacation issue! Yes, for the first time in four years, I am taking the summer off, like they say school teachers do. It's probably a one-off summer, but I'm going to enjoy it! So far, so good.

Awhile back I started a series called "Living My Dream," where I look at other people and think how much I would like to be doing what they are doing. So far, the accomplishments of those people have been beyond my reach, but in today's installment I have someone who is more like a role model, and whose accomplishments I could sort of attain.

During the school year I begin every day with a 30-minute "duty" in the school cafeteria. I'm there pretty much to keep the peace, which is super easy first thing in the morning, and my standing post is right by the lines for free breakfast. Every morning for 30 minutes, from 7:04 until 7:34, I stand with Miss Carol.

EXHIBIT A: ANNE WITH THE LUNCH LADIES, MISS CAROL IN BLUE SHIRT

Miss Carol is a single mother with grown children, grandchildren, and a daughter still in high school. She works as a lunch lady, a modest salary with no benefits. And she is the most cheerful person I have ever met.

Every student who comes for breakfast gets a warm welcome from her, and a hug too, if they want one. Her own daughters, the ones I've met, are loving and respectful to her. She laughs a lot. And she cooks. A lot.

On Monday mornings, the lunch lady conversation revolves around what they cooked and ate over the weekend. On normal weekends the menus are lavish and comforting. On special occasions they are so mouth-wateringly over-the-top that I spend the whole morning fantasizing about them. Oh, the comfort food! Much of it overlaps with my own Appalachian upbringing, so I know how good those collard greens and homemade potato salad must be. And the pies. Mmmmmm Mmmmmm!

Carol has had some health problems and even surgery over the years I have known her, and when she comes back from a medical leave, the kids just completely fawn over her, as she fawns over them. If there is a human personification of love, it is this woman. She ought to be worshiped as a Goddess.

Now you must be thinking, "Anne, if you're so friendly with this marvelous woman, why don't you socialize with her?" Well, it's interesting. There's some kind of invisible line when it comes to out-of-school interaction between the teachers, the administrators, and the support staff. Each group stays with their group. I wouldn't say it's a racial thing, and I would like to change it, but this system is entrenched. She always calls me Miss Johnson, and I always call her Miss Carol. Point of fact, I don't even know her last name, and I've been standing, laughing, talking, and observing her for ten years.

Last summer the school had a picnic for incoming freshmen, and since I was there on the paint crew, I got to partake. Carol made the lunch, of course, and I sat with her to eat. We hadn't seen each other for two months, so we greeted each other like long-lost friends. And after I was finished eating, I had to get back to painting. As I was walking away, I heard Miss Carol say to another lunch lady, "Miss Johnson is so nice."

I may be nice, but Miss Carol is 10,000 times nicer than me. If she has hardships, she doesn't bring them to work. When she's under pressure, she doesn't grumble. There's no feuding with any co-worker. And there's nothing but love for the students. I'm sure some of them need it big time.

If you count happiness and contentment as wealth, this lovely lady is Bill Gates. I won't see her again until September -- we aren't even Facebook friends -- but I'll miss her every morning. Miss Carol is living my dream. I look up to her. She deserves it.

Helen Dishaw Is Living My Dream

Hello and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," your highway to hilarity in a world of woe! I'm Anne Johnson, denizen of this nuthouse garden, and you're very welcome to stop on by. Just don't stain the furniture. I'm very picky about my upholstery.

My regular visitors will recall that, last month, I took a real, live vacation to Salt Lake City to meet a fabulous condor named Andy who lives in a posh aviary there. But I was also keenly interested in meeting Andy's friend, Helen.

This is Helen with the aviary's black vulture, Chewie.

Helen is the reason Andy has become an international celebribirdy. Before she arrived in his life, he lived in a cave-like enclosure by himself (his sister died of cancer). Helen coaxed Andy out, and now he takes a daily stroll with her, in order to meet eccentric buzzard-lovers such as myself.

Helen has trained other birds in the aviary as well -- you should see Chewie with her. A vulture acting like a puppy! She and her crew also have shows featuring spoonbills, toucans, hawks, a turkey vulture, and an owl. 

The most impressive of Helen's accomplishments is that the birds in her care all seem so happy. Can birds be happy? If you have to ask, you've never had a meaningful relationship with a bird.

Someone at the aviary told me that Helen takes birds home with her when she is trying to bond with them. I'm sure she didn't do that with Andy, but he positively dotes on her. She coaxed him out for his birthday even though he had to go past some bright, flapping fabric and lots and lots of people. She calmly said, "You've got this, Andy." And he did.

Lots of people ask Helen how she got her job, and she demurs. She's not a university-trained bird person. Like so many folks who are really, really good at what they do, she's just been able to put her dreams into reality. She is very motivated.

As would I be, if every day began with a jovial stroll, just me and my Andean condor.

Helen's job isn't stress-free. Birds are touchy, and they can bite, so she needs to be vigilant without seeming so. She was pretty tense on Andy's birthday, because the aviary was so crowded. But all in all, she's clearly loving her work. I don't think I could prevail upon her to switch careers with me.

Imagine getting up every day to go see a veritable aviary full of cheery birds, who you will walk with, talk about, and perform with for people of all ages! No profession is a total bowl of cherries, but I'll bet working with Andy is at least a bowl of craisins.

All hail Helen, the lovely bird-whisperer of Salt Lake City! Helen is living my dream.

Katy Is Living My Dream

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm Anne Johnson, a has-been, over-the-hill, wannabe this-and-that. Just think! I always wanted to write a novel! (And I did, but it sucks.)

I digress. I think I'm about to start a new little series of posts here called "Living My Dream," about people who are doing what I would love to do, but couldn't or can't.

Katy is first on the list. She is my next door neighbor, and she is 10.

Every evening Katy comes out with her glove and her baseballs and practices pitching. She's got a wicked delivery for a fourth grader. And guess what else she has? She has a spot on a Little League roster!

When I was 10, I wanted nothing more than to play Little League. My mom and I used to go watch the games. (The fields were between two huge cow pastures.) In my dreams I was on the team, swinging for the fences.

But in 1969, girls were not allowed to try out for Little League. Probably just as well in my case, because my hand/eye coordination is the only thing in the world that's worse than my novel.

Anyway, last evening I went to the Haterville Little League field to watch Katy play. She pitched two innings and hit a triple. She struck out a few batters. And she was the only girl on either team.

I'm glad Katy didn't settle for playing softball. Don't get me wrong, softball's great and all that. But if you want to play baseball, you ought to be able to take a shot at playing baseball.

Katy is a proud tomboy, and this I heartily endorse. At her age, so was I.

All hail Katy, living my dream!