How do you measure a life?

How do you measure a life? Do you measure it in a job well done, hugs and kisses, money made, or success at a job? Do you measure it by the number of friends you have, or people that show up to your special occasions? I would argue its measured in love.

As a kid you love everyone, except those doo doo heads that wouldn’t share their pudding cup with you. As a teen you can’t stand anyone, and as a young adult you learn to love everyone all over again. I currently find myself in this latter category. Over the past couple of years, it’s become evident that friends are family and family is everything. How lucky am I then, when I have found an amazing family here in south Florida? On top of that, I am so blessed to have a family, scattered about they may be, that is truly amazing. Every time I come home, I see them with renewed eyes, and it fills my heart up with love. I can’t wait to catch up, and do the “remember when...” It’s great to say, “Wow, you got so big.” and “How’s school going?”

Ever since my grandmother passed, I’ve looked at life differently. I look for change and prioritize those that really mean something to me. At the end of 2016 Jim and I made a major change and moved to Florida. I, in some respects, could not wait to leave home and in others could think of moving on. Over the last two years I’ve grown to miss my family. I’m ashamed to say I missed out on the valuable time with them while I had it, but you know what they say, you never know what you’ve got, until you no longer have it. At the same time, I’ve also made wonderful friends here in South Florida that have become my family. In both cases we have our differences, we disagree, we fight, we text, we talk, we reminisce, we judge, we help each other, we give advice, and we make new memories. They are a huge part of my life.

Over the last week I’ve thought to myself “How amazing is my family that in times of need, no matter have far away we are, we can get together and support one another. No matter our differences, or how busy we are, we stop and come running home.” It was an ah ha moment. Sort of a clarifying moment and I know we are all very different, and we all have our drama and secrets, but that seems to melt away when we are in times of need. We are, after all, family.

I went on to think “But we never see each other anymore. How sad is that.” On the contrary. With further thought, it makes holidays and trips back home that much more special. Jim and I look forward to seeing the Hadsell’s, Ferguson’s, Robbins’ and Duffy’s. Sure, we miss the birthdays, but we make sure to send our love and call as often as we can. We make sure to spread the love and visit everyone we can when we come in. (If we’ve missed you, please know, we still love you and miss you.)

Moreover, when your friends are going through something life changing and you get involved, it seems messy at first. It seems complicated and at times, like it’s none of your business. Then you realize, you’re my family and I’d like to help. I’d like to talk and support and let you get the anger or happiness out and share in the moment. I want to be there for you. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love being there for you guys.

Young adulthood has helped me learn to fall in love all over again with the people that really matter to me. It makes me think that as a teenager, I was a little distant when I should have attended more events. As we get older and people start to pass on, it makes me think. How many more times will I get to see you? How many more memories will we get to make together and that prompts me to do more. See my friends more. Go to things when I’m exhausted. Invite them to brunch, answer that group text, call my mom more, text my cousins more frequently, and interject to say, “Tell them ‘Hi’ for me.” because you never know when they will be gone, or you’ll move away, or someone breaks up or “moves on” and you don’t get the chance to see them or talk with them again.

I’m blessed. I’ve got good people in my life. So, I ask again. How do YOU measure a life? Maybe its about time you start thinking about that.

The New Normal

   Where do I start? Its been so long since I last wrote and life, oh, life has taken me on a completely different journey. I've been completely busy, but it felt like a great time to write and so, here goes....
   Lets start off in a sequential order. I've moved... to Florida! This was a hard decision on my part, but definitely worth it. It was time. Our grandmothers had passed away, our jobs were at a dead end and no new opportunities were found. Jim was offered a full time job here in the Fort Lauderdale area and well, that's not something you pass up. So, we packed up and made the incredibly long drive (The stories we could tell about this drive.)here to Florida where it is eternal summer. Anyhow, in January of 2018 we celebrated one year here. Its gone by so fast and we have learned to adapt, but we are happy.
   When we first arrived, I admit, I felt a little lost, lonely and out of place. Change is hard for me for many reasons. Yet, we really needed it. Now, I feel at home and happy. Its a great place to live and there is a ton of things to do. So much has changed since we've moved and part of that was because I was pushed out of my comfort zone. (thank you Jim!!!) It sucked at first, but that has melted away.
  Working in southern Florida has been interesting. I've been a tutor and a reading teacher, but have settled into a job with the Broward County Public School district as an African American history teacher. I know what you're thinking, "Kyle is the whitest, white person there is." and you'd be right. I even joked with the kids on Day 1 that of course they picked the white guy to teach them African American history. I got a couple laughs. However, working in a primarily black school, has taught me many things. It has introduced me to a whole new culture, socioeconomic and generation of students. (I've learned more in one school year then I could reading books and doing my own study.) While some days are challenging, most days are great. I've gotten to know my students and really understand them. This has been the most rewarding part of my job. In the last week I've reflected so much. I've seen more experienced teachers become jaded and I hope this is not my future. I will work hard to make sure this is not a path I take. I truly like my job.
  Taking a look back, starting my new job as a teacher has been very hard. As a person who is type A and just shy of being a perfectionist, has proven to be more of a handicap. Throughout this process I have learned that I have major anxiety and to my horror, there is nothing I can do about it. Dealing with this was neither fun nor enlightening. I suffered months of sleepless nights, not being able to eat, and I had developed an internal voice that started to say how terrible I was at my new job, that I would fail or mess up. It was a very dark time indeed. It got so bad, I considered seeing a therapist. I talked to Jim countless times, I wrote, I prayed, I talked to Benia, yet nothing helped. It took me months to realize I was good at my job and that I might actually have a shot at helping these kids. I learned that I had a huge learning curve to over come and that change was, and still is rough for me to handle. I still get times where it seems like nothing is going right and sleep alludes me again, or I can't eat. I wish I could say I learned how to 'manage it' or shut the voice up, but I didn't. It something I have taken steps to work with, and deal with, but not something that can be conquered or controlled. It just a part of life, or as Jim would say about everything in life, "Kyle, It is what it is." That saying is slightly comforting.
  Our social life has been an eye opening experience. We've started to make great friends. Who know it would take until almost middle age to make good friends? We've gotten to experience parks, bars, Pride parades, great places to eat, escape rooms, great movies festivals, beer festivals etc. Its just wonderful to be able to go to brunch on a Sunday, Coffee on a Wednesday or Dinner and Drinks on a Friday night. As well, I can't forget the beach. Living fifteen minutes from the beach is a great perk of living here. Although lets face it, I'm ghostly white. That plus the blazing hot sun does not equal a good outcome for Kyle. I've been sunburned so very much already. Sun Screen has become my new best friend.
  We have two ties to our home in Pennsylvania, our house and our family. Our house, is something I will miss. We really did put a ton of time an money into that house. A piece of my soul is in the dry wall. I just know it. (Thank you Kathy and Jim for all the help!!!)
   If anything I will truly miss the property. I spent so very long trying to make it a place of peace and I know I succeeded. I will  miss the flowers and patio. Sadly, We will have to say goodbye to it soon as we are looking at buying here in Florida. This, we can't wait to do.
  Our other tie to Pennsylvania is our family. I miss everyone of them!! Its very hard not to just get in the car and drive to your aunts, in-laws or moms house. I've missed birthdays, and holidays and believe me, its hard on the holidays. I use to think people that moved away should have to come home and visit because they made the decision to move away. However, now I know that they just missed us and wanted people to come and visit them when they were lonely. (By the way, I'm still waiting for other to come and visit us.)
  Our families have been very supportive of us making the move. I'm so very happy they were. Its made it much easier. Its just hard missing everything.
  Speaking of which, our family is expanding again. We are going to be adding two new babies into our extended family! I can't help but get excited when there is a new baby added. They are so cute and have that great baby smell! At the same time I see everyone else getting pregnant and having children and I can't help but think if having kinds is in the card for us. I, as always, look to my big brothers/ friends Chris and James during their process to see how that goes. I wish them all the best in adopting. Yet, I think I would like to be a father. I think it would be a fun experience. Expensive, Yes. Stressful, Yes, but worth it. Not that time is really a factor, but sooner rather than later would be nice. Then I could play hide and seek, or the floor is lava (I think I am dating myself here) or have an excuse to watch cartoons again. Its a sad and happy thought all together. For now, at least I have my three wonderful dogs whom I love very much to spoil, to run around and play with.
 Enough self loathing. Over all I am still very happy with what has become my new normal. I've changed so much in the last year. Change, which has always been something I have been afraid of, has been slightly easier. Who knows, maybe I am actually growing as a person.

On life

For the first time in my life, I don’t know where to begin. Over the past couple of weeks, my family and I have gone through a rollercoaster ride. My Grandmother, our leader, had been diagnosed with stage four cancer of the brain. Naturally this was something that had brought my family close together. Something she was always able to do. We rallied around her. We watched as she quickly turned from independent to a dependent, incapable women.
The amount of sadness I felt was overwhelming. I tried my hardest to deny this was happening. I pushed it out of my head, threw myself into work. I pretended like I did not have the time. A part of me just shut off. I visited her a couple of times during the first weeks of her decline. I convinced myself that my family was, once again, blowing things out of proportion. Then again, what can you do when death is eminent? How do we accept the unacceptable? I guess we all have our different ways of dealing with what is to come.
Over the next couple of weeks, I visited more often. It began to sink in. Her quick decline was more visible. I stopped one day when I was home alone and thought to myself, “What if she dies? She would be lying in a coffin with no hair.” What an insignificant though! No hair. I knew she would hate that. I could picture her saying “Kelly. Why in God’s name didn’t you give me hair. Look at me. I look as homely as a mud slang fence! Cripse all mighty.” It did make me think long and hard for about two minutes. I cried. I had for the first time accepted the fact that she might not be here soon. She eventually stopped walking, her hair fell out, her voice went and then her movements became nonexistent all in a matter of weeks. The image left with me, the final moments of her life, I will remember her grabbing at thin air with her eyes wide open.
On the day before she died, my family and I gathered to say good bye. I arrived at the house and said my hellos to everyone and entered the house to see my grandmother. What I saw was the saddest thing I have ever seen. It was about all of twenty seconds before I broke down. I could no longer deny that she would die. I think the image of her in a catatonic state and the realization that this is the end of my time with her hit me all at once. That overwhelming feeling like you can’t breathe, like you want to scream, cry, fall to your knees and question God!! That gut wrenching feeling that life has just taken control from you. I could not, and still cannot comprehend it all.
Fast-forward to the next morning. I thought, maybe she will last. That thought quickly went. After a morning of schoolwork, I got a call from Taryn at about 10:00 am. As I picked up the phone I thought” God, Please!!!! No.” As I said “Hello” I heard a deep sobbing on the other line. I knew. I said “I’ll be right there.” I choked back tears in a public coffee shop and looked into my husband’s eyes. He quickly packed everything up. What took him seconds seemed like years. I screamed in my head. We walked to the car with little said. I raced to her house which had become our Mecca.
When I arrived, I cried. I said one last good bye and waited for everyone to arrive. I looked around to see my aunts and mother sobbing. A light had gone out. The world seemed to pause. I watched as my family arrived quickly from all parts of the county. One last rush. One last moment, one last kiss. Heart breaking would be an immense understatement of the feeling that filled me, that filled us.
In the days after, I carried on. We all did. The funeral and viewing seemed a blur. I cried. Surely that was all I could do. What else was there to do? Family and friends supported us. Indeed it was in these moments one could take a step back and look at all the people who loved her just as much as we did. Neighbors, friends of hers, friends of ours, extended family, acquaintances, they all came out to see her. They all loved her.
In the days after, it’s been difficult. Sitting in that same coffee shop a week later buried in work that was due from the week before, I stopped to take a deep breath. In that moment I heard Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” This song has and will always hold special meaning to me as it was one of her favorites. I was fortunate enough to have her share this with me and Kathleen.
I had for the past couple of days been asking her to give me a sign that she was ok. I begged, I prayed to God. Just one sign, something small, anything. In that moment, in that coffee shop, with that song playing in such a loud environment, how I heard that is a small miracle. Yet I swallowed my tears and said “Thank you.” I sang along until the song finished. We left shortly after that and got into the car. Wondering where we would go for lunch, Jim turned to me and asked if he had told me about a dream he had the night before. I said he had not and he proceeded to tell me about the dream.
He had been driving and felt he needed to catch up to a black SUV. He did not know why but he felt he should. He then came to an area with many people. He recognized one of them. It was Benia. He said she was standing next to a lady he did not recognize. He said she had said to him “Tell them I’m ok. Everything is ok.” In that moment I thought to myself “I only asked for one sign but I know I don’t always pay attention, so thank you. Thank you.” I proceeded about my day, but that conversation and that song had made me aware that she is ok. That’s she can hear me and on some small level, that brings me comfort.
I updated our family tree. It was something I did not want to do. For the sake of accuracy I opened her leaf and stared at the screen. I took a small breath and clicked the mouse to edit her leaf. I realized this is a lot, but proceeded to correct the leaf. I moved the mouse and clicked Deceased, Nov 8, 2015. The fact that she had passed hit me again.
I won’t lie and pretend that I am ok. I don’t know when I will be ok again.  I still cry. I cannot talk about her without crying. The fact that I lost a big part of myself in her death will take a long time to get over. She was my mentor, my grandmother, my friend. I will always remember her and everything she did. I will always be grateful I had her at the most important times in my life. She gave me strength in times of trouble and wisdom in times of need. She took care of me as a child and gave me a happy place to go to when times were rough. She defended me and praised me and looked after me, even through college. She was my Benia.

These words were written a little under a year ago. I came across this document while going through my email. I guess it is entirely appropriate since I have been thinking so much about her. How I wish I still had her guidance. God could I use her advice on a couple things.

I still say good morning to her when I pass her picture. I still think "you know who I need to tell  this story, Benia."  Or "I know she is not going to believe to one." Then I remember.

Sometimes it seems as if she were still sitting at home reading or completing a crossword puzzle. Maybe making dinner, or sitting out on the patio. She's not though. I know it.

She's missed me graduate from school as a teacher. She's missed Kathleen's wedding and the birth of two more great grandchildren, Kristen's two beautiful twins. Gone but never forgotten. At the wedding we danced, we all danced, to the "Unicorn" song in her honor. I know the grandkids could hear that horrible fake Irish accent singing along in her raspy voice. "You're never gonna see no unicorn."

How true! She was that unicorn, and just like it, we are never gonna see it again. It's time has passed and so too did hers.

Presidental elections... Sigh.

As we embark upon the political season where, let’s face it, anything goes and I mean anything, I thought I would throw my two cents in. I am interested in civics, history and voting. That being said, I tend to watch debates, follow political candidates and understand the workings of our government. As I watch the political candidates for president promise everything, set forth agendas and smile, I can’t help but wonder why some of these men and women are even popular among the general public. Then I stop thinking and see the allure.

The Republican party is a hot mess! With the likes of Trump, Cruz, and Rubio, it’s sad to see that a party that has fielded candidates such a Regean, T. Roosevelt, and Lincoln could fall from grace. Yet, it has. Watching a debate is like watching the lions at the zoo fight over a piece of meat. Disturbing yet comical. Like Charlie brown going for the football that is going to get pulled away.

The Democratic party isn’t much better off. Yet, something seems weird about the comradery of the candidates. It almost seems like the smiles and good will are masking something. But what?!? Watching a debate with them is like watching young children slap each other while giggling. Funny, yet strangely weird. I want to giggle along with them because it’s almost sad.

I hear promises coming from both sides. Some promise to “Make America Great Again” (Whatever that means. I could have sworn for a second, we were already great, but what do I know? Maybe it’s because we buy everything from China or lack a creditable educational system or even equality among all sexes, races, religions and cultures. If Trump is the face of making America great again he sure is doing a shitty job.) Some promise to raise minimum wages to $15.00 an hour (Crazy. Do we know how this could be done? Can you say passing the cost onto consumers? More taxes. I’m sorry but if tiny Timmy who works at the golden archers while in high school is making almost as much as I am, something is wrong with this country. What is the incentive to go to college and work hard then? I might as well quit my job and work in a mindless job. Less stress for almost as much pay. Would I get a raise if minimum wages rise? I better or a bitch is getting’ knocked out. I mean it. End Rant.) Some others promise to build a wall and make emigrating to the U.S much harder. Last time I checked those damn immigrants were… US!!! Plus who are we going to get to build this wall? If we use American labor, we will have a hefty bill and one of the biggest things to be “Made In America” will be the direct opposite of what America stands for. If we use immigrants, the coast is lower but isn’t that ironic? (By the way, do we forget that all of our ancestors came from somewhere else and kicked the Native American’s off of their land? Killed them, forced them to move to reservations where most became alcoholics and trampled over their rights and culture?) Promises, promises, promises.

I just wanted to remind everyone that no matter what a candidate for president promises they cannot deliver most of them. The way the government works is that there are three distinct and separate branches. (Yes three! I bet most of you cannot even give me the names, let alone tell me what they do. It’s sad when I ask students, and they have no idea. Way to go American Education System!)  While all of them are separate, they provided a check on each other. On top of that you have factions (parties) that serves as another check on ambitions and powers, especially of the President of the U.S.). So, getting a wall built on the border, or raising the minimum wage takes more than just a stroke of the presidential pen. Keep that in mind.

I am also encouraging people to really get to know their candidates. Don’t be the person to say they support Trump because “…he’s such a good business man.” Or a fan of Sanders because “… he’s looking out for all of us by making everything equal.” Or a fan of Clinton because”… she’s a strong woman.” Or a fan of Cruz because “… he” I’ve got nothing. I don’t respect him at all so…. yeah let just pretend he isn’t running.

Let’s face it. Trump is a bigot, Cruz and Rubio are too inexperienced, Sanders is a socialist, and Clinton is untrustworthy. What a field of contenders. How does Trump expect to get anything done when he has no idea what he is even talking about? Clinton could get things done, but if you don’t trust your leader, what good can come from it? Sanders could also be a good president, but raising taxes to support all his ambitions is going to alienate a vast majority of people. Cruz is a dick. Let’s face facts. I cannot stand him. I would sooner vote Trump then Cruz. (Can you tell who I don’t like? I honestly have a huge bias. I hope it’s not too evident.)

How sad is it that my two picks for president are people who I do not believe cannot 100% fulfill their promise to do their best in office. At least not yet, you have some swaying to do Lucy! I am still on the fence on who I should choose. I am leaning just a hair toward one candidate, but every time I watch another debate I move more to the middle. I am not sure if tis because I have the ability to reason and think critically, or if it’s because I am getting older.

Anyway, it blows my mind how people can just vote so blindly for a candidate. (Jefferson and Adams would be soooooo pissed to see “The People” voting in mass for a candidate without knowing them and what their plans are. They ensured as many safe guards against this. They must be rolling over right about…. Now.) It also kills me that people do not know how their own government works and assume that the president can just do whatever he or she wants. I feel as though the majority of America is feed up and voting for the one candidate who can bring about as much change as possible to the ever stale Washington circuit. (I want to believe it. I really do, but it’s just a bunch of uneducated idiots who look at the shiniest candidate and hope they don’t screw up the state again. Think monkey with symbols clanging in someone’s head.)

To sum up. Google how our government works. Know who you’re voting for and think about what could happen if they get their way. After all, the old saying does go “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

Fur children

 My apologies for not writing in sometime. I wanted to talk about  the subject of fur children. Now, I know what you are thinking, he's totally against the idea and thinks this is the worlds stupidest thing. On the contrary. I have a fur child of my own who happens to be stairing at me this very moment. He's cute and cuddly and doesn't talk back. Best part is... No diapers.
   Now, I use to be firmly against people making a big deal of their fur child. Dressing them up in  ridiculous costumes, giving them stupid names such as Mr. Whiskers and bringing them to doggy daycare. What dog needs daycare? Or so I thought. Then I became that dog owner. Oh god, typing that  feels like I've committed some sin. (Note to self. Go to church for the first time in years and fuck up some prayer so I feel less guilty. Amen.... Or something like that.)
   A little over a year ago we adopted our guy from a family who could not care for him anymore. Luckily for us he was not a puppy and he was already house trained. What more could we ask for? He did not act like a dog from the start. He would not chew on anything (Not exactly a good thing. Because he does not chew on bones or toys he has tarter build up. That leads to his breath smelling like he ate a house's ass that was filled with garlic and rotting garbage.) or play ball. He would however sit an judge from a far. Getting to know us and our habits, I am sure he was thinking "What a hot mess these two weirdos are." I know we thought that about him.
  After a year, he has calmed down, we have gotten use to his habits and we are one big happy, messed up family. We wouldn't have it any other way. We also got him signed up for daycare. Not everyday but once a week. This was for socialization purposes at first. The we realized quickly that we had no one who we could leave him with if we went on vacation, or out of town for a night. Daycare luckily had a boarding program as well. So daycare became a socialization option as well as a place he could stay that he felt comfortable.
  On our first socialization trial (Yup, they exist and are to ensure there are no doggy fights. I am starting to think they should do this for people in working environments to see if a person is going to work out. I can see it now. Naww, she's not going to last. She's smelling everyone and she slobbers when she eats... Fire her.) he did well.  Surprisingly he did not get kicked out. Our family feared that because of his attitude and very bad social skills with other dogs he would not be able to go to daycare. To our supprise the daycare said he was great. We had to make sure they were talking about our dog. (Our dog not only judges people but does not like most people or dogs. He's very selective and judge mental. Just like his owners.) Ever since then, he has been attending daycare on Thursdays and staying over when we go out of town.
  On a recent trip to pick him up, his daily report came back to us like this... (So, Gabe learned a new trick today. He has managed to climb over the divider wall and get into the hallway. He has also taught other dogs how to do the same.) I don't have children, but at the moment I felt a sense of dread and pride. My dog was smart and a leader!! He also became that dog who taught others a naughty trick. Like that kid in kindergarten who says a curse and gets everyone saying it. I'm surprised I didn't have dog mom's and dad's calling me. "What are you teaching that dog of yours? What a bad dog parent I must be for letting my dog do that in front of other dogs." Etc.
  If that wasn't enough, I have broken down and bought him a hoodie. I didn't even know they made hoodies for dogs. They do and they come in a lot of colors. I thought, if I'm getting something this stupid, it might as well be cool. No stupid dog  sweater for my dog. No siry bob!! In my defense it gets really cold in Pennsylvania and he is a cocker spaniel.... So I had to. We looked around and found a cool red hoodie. He rocks it!! He also does not like it, but it keeps him warm and on a walk he's ok with it. (Have I mentioned how picky he is in addition to the attitude and judgy personality?)
  He's a cool little dude. He reminds me of Joe cool snoopy maybe even the flying ace. (Note to self, get dog house airplane and teach how to fly. Millions to be made on a live action peanuts movie.) I hate to say it, but I've become that dog owner. Although I use to make fun of those people, I am not as bad as the "cat ladies" and I must say, I like being a fur parent. He's always happy to see me, requires little care and knows how to make your day when you are feelling sad or want to hit a coworker in the face with a frying pan. To be a fur parent is one of the greatest joys in my life. Currently, there is no better feeling in the world.

The Damn Tax

Let me preface this blog by stating that I have been a resident of the city of Scranton, Pennsylvania  for twenty out of the past twenty-six years of my life. In that time I have seen the city laps into a state of dissolution and depression. I have paid a wage tax since I was fourteen to the city for working with-in its limits and have held a job within the city from that age until this very day. My Parents and many other family members have paid property taxes because they live with-in the city. Moreover, I was educated from Elementary school through higher education in the city of Scranton at Marywood University.

 I use the police force, fire and EMS departments, not to mention their hospitals. I use their crumbling road system and partake in being a patron to their many businesses, most especially at Northern Light Espresso Bar. I use the county courthouse, located there, to locate records and I attend La Festa, First Firday, Arts on Fire, The Saint Patrick's Day Parade, and the Santa Parade all held with in down town Scranton. (I do enjoy all of these, although I have stopped participating in the Parade day since kids screaming for Santa and the many Drunks of St. Patty's day are not appealing to me at my current age.) In short I am a Scrantoian, whether I like it or not.

Therefore it is only right that I take a side in the controversial debate over the commuter tax, planned to be imposed to support the cities depressed pension funds, by standing for the tax rather than against it. As stated above I am a commuter to the city. I work in the boundary of the city and live in Clark's Summit, a suburb of the city. As well my partner and parents work within the city as well. (My Father now resides out side of Scranton.) We would all be subject to paying the tax.
As the tax is 0.75% of the yearly amount one makes at their job, it is not a heavy price to pay. Granted this tax is for the pension (I am not for them and think they are outdated and a drain on the the economy as a whole. As an aspiring teacher, I am entitled to one, but would for-go it and switch to a 401K in order to help the State economy.) of the uniformed and non- uniformed employees of the city. (This I am not happy with and would like to see the money go toward the debt of the city rather than into the police and fire and non uniformed employees. However, I don't get a choice in how the money is spent.) With this being stated, I argue for the tax to support the city.

First, those who pound their fists and say "No Taxation without representation." Bit me! Hard! Don't use historical sayings without knowing the historical content behind it, you ignorant idiot. I am a student of history and would never use that saying in this context or circumstance. It is used by uneducated people of this area and for ill purposes. As a resident of the COMMONWEALTH (Yes, we are NOT a state but a commonwealth.) of PENNSYLVANIA, you DO have representation in terms of how your taxes are spent. If you would bother to read the articles and know where this commuter tax came from, you would know that this act was enacted in the late 80's / early 90's by the STATE representatives to be used by cities with distressed pension funds. Therefore it is with pleasure I say, if you have a problem blame your STATE representatives during that time period in which the bill was enacted in the state legislature. You are represented and have always been so. Take your stupid wishy- washy knowledge of history and go home. You're drunk!

Secondly, for those saying "I don't have a choice in the matter." Hark! Pray tell, Look that way. What do you see? I see a choice on the horizon. Here is your choice as an individual and business. If you do not like the tax, find a job or location else where. Don't work within the city limits. Teach the city a lesson by moving your business or finding another job. Its your right.  Now, I hear you. "Kyle then where will we go?" and, unto you I say. I don't care. If you bitch and moan about working in the city because of an .75 % tax, work in Carbondale, Wilkes-Barre, Hazelton, Kingston, Pittston, Dunmore, Dickson City. OR, work in Wayne, Pike, Wyoming, Susquehanna, Bradford, Schuykill, Carbon or Monroe counties to avoid the tax. You have a choice. Though it is not what you would like, it is a choice.

 That leads me to the opening paragraphs. As a commuter I use, or have the option to use, the fire, EMS, police and non-uniformed employees and their facilities. As a commuter you do to. So, if you don't want to pay for the tax, let me throw out this option. DON'T USE THE FACILITIES OR THE EMPLOYEES! Lets add that into the ordinance and call it a day. If you get mugged and don't want to pay the tax, don't call the police. Go after the bastard yourself. See how far you get. If your business catches on fire, don't call the fire department to put it out. Let that shit burn! If you, god forbid, get into a car accident and get hurt, don't call EMS and fire. In fact don't go to the local hospitals, all of which are located within the city. Go to Marion... nope that closed, or Mid-Valley... that has no ER, oh Wayne Memorial that one will take you. Or Wilkes-Barre General, nurses are on strike though. You'll have to drive to Wayne or Luzerne counties to use the facilities there.

As well, if you think the tax is not for you, maybe you should protest by not going into Scranton. Though you should think of the small business owners you would be hurting. If you don't want to go into the city to boycott the tax, you better hope you don't get a call for jury duty, or need to get a copy of a will, birth certificate, deed, marriage certificate or death certificate. As the city is the county seat of government, it would be hard to get that stuff anywhere else.

Furthermore, if it was not for the City of Scranton, about half the people in the greater Scranton area would not have a job. Think about it, if the city did not exist where would you be? Carbondale? Maybe Wilkes-Barre?

While I understand the tax is not popular, most especially because it taxes residents outside the city limits and the revenue would support the pension funds, I feel that some people should stop and realize what is behind the entire tax. This tax is not a tax by itself but is part of a package deal. Along with negotiating with the unions over pension reform, selling off city assets, such as the sewer authority, city refuse collection etc. etc. I ask that people start to read the articles more and urge the residents of the city to get out and vote for change. (The current percentage of voter turn out is around 30%.)

At the end of the day I know people do not typically make a lot of money in the Scranton area. However, the residents of this area should remember the tax is not even a full percent of their pay check. A small price to pay to help a city that hold the majority of jobs in this area. Again, my stance is not popular outside the city, but I feel it is the right stance to take and if someone won't say it, well then I guess I will.

The first time home buyer

As and avid watcher of HGTV I have always wanted to do home repair and decorating. (In case you did not know I am the male Martha Steward, minus the time served.) I've always wanted my own home and, for years, had dreamed of the splendid things I would do to the home. I had ideas just sitting in the far nether regions of my brain culminating into grad ideas. Large windows, new bathroom and kitchen with garnet counter tops, a deck or patio. Land scaping, green lush lawn and wonderful neighbors. My idea was like living with the Cleavers in 1950. I just didn't have pearls, a whiskey sour and pot roast waiting from Jim after a hard day at the office. More like pizza and Snapple. I also did not have a weird little kid getting in trouble and and audience laughing in the background. (That would be weird, could it be Schizophrenia?) I also did not have a crew of carpenters and t.v. budget to complete the home repairs but that did not matter, I had an idea!

  Last year, an opportunity presented itself. As a person who not only does not hear opportunity knocking, no Banging Profusely on the door, I would not recognize what it looked, sounded like or smelt like even if I had a picture that was scratch and sniff and a voice recording. I usually see chances as they fly by, waiving and smiling sometimes throwing the finger as a loving gesture. To say the least I am aloof. However, a family member came to Jim and I asking if we would like to buy a house for a great rate and it would help another family member in the process. We both agreed to tour the property. So I dusted off my "Home inspectors" hat and big boy pants and away we went.

  With reservations I toured the property unsure about the idea. (It is amazing how reserved you will become when being serious about an idea as large as buying a house.) I saw the property and loved the area. The house needed work, but was in decent shape. After talking about it a few hundred times in a small amount of time, we agreed to buying the property. How hard could it be? People do it all the time.

Needless to say it took us over three months and many trips to the bank later to obtain a mortgage. Let me just say, I am beyond surprised they did not ask for a blood, stool or DNA sample! I have had to fill out applications that entailed addendum for our school loans (Yes we have that many that there are not enough spaces to hold the loans for school. By the way they give you 8.) tax information for the last three years, bank account information, how much we pay monthly for bills and much more. we did obtain a loan after our loan officer missed the dead line to turn our app in and filling out another application. Hurdle One complete.

The words "I've always wanted to buy a old property and fix it up." have started haunting me like Sandra Bullocks decision to do the "Speed" movies. I've always scoffed at Jim's idea of hiring someone to complete the home projects. My dad would never let anyone do a project. In fact, he did all the home repairs in the house when I was growing up. It looked easy! I helped. Then again... he was a carpenter and I mostly held the flash light and tried only the  "minimal risk of dying" things while the project was being completed.

 Jim and I have recently started renovating our home. We had started with family helping us along with the bathroom. It started innocently with the bathroom, at first with paint and a new floor. Easy they said. We can do it in a weekend; they were sure! Then lighting fixtures and faucets, oh a new vanity as well. Then it was the pipes. Dry wall, closet needed to be widened, electric and water hookup for the washer and dryer needed to go in. The new door and shower head. It wound up taking close to a month. One room! Thank god for family with knowledge of plumbing and electrical. I would have burned it down. It would have been easier.

  As we move deeper and deeper into renovation we have picked up some tricks and learned how to do some things. Yet we are far from masters of home repair. (I am far from Bob Velia. I can't wear flannel and wont grow a beard.) We have gotten smart and hired professionals to do the electric but the waiting game for when they can get here to do it is a little overwhelming. I started throwing darts at the calendar to guess when they will come. We have gone ahead and ripped down the sheet rock, wallpaper, ceiling, attic stairs doors and wood work out of the upstairs bedroom and sitting room. We've decided to start small in case you were wondering. We've rented a dumpster and piled it high. We now understand it is much harder to do the work yourself. However, it is satisfying to do the work yourself and even though the house is covered in dust and looks like a bomb went off  upstairs, we know that we can do what we really need to and with help and guidance finish what we started. The Lowes people are nice in the morning and will help you more, by lunch they get mean. Just an FYI.

While watching HGTV, I think there should be a disclaimer with every episode. "Warning: This is easier than it appears. We have competent, sane, cheap and professional workers who know what they are doing. We have tons of cash to cover all projects and if you plain a budget, add $400-$600 to everything you buy even it's duct tape, no matter what and add three weeks to do each project, even if it is to paint. You will pick an unhealthy addiction to the lawn and garden department and fight with your partner about paint colors and which toilet paper roll holder you want. P.S. don't try this at home." I have learned you need a huge bank account to go with loft ambitions. The sky light, paved drive way, new appliances, and pools will not happen. The land scaping will look like you have done it and your neighbors will say so. The towel holders will fall off the wall even if you glue it. The ceiling fan will wobble and the new doors will have to be nailed together after you cut them while using a saw yourself for the first time. Contractors will not show up on time and will laugh at you if you try to haggle with them. Apparently, $20 an hour is not enough.

As first time home buyers I would advocate talking with others who have been through it and ask a million questions. However, the best experience can be had by first hand events.(You need to have your partner drop huge globs of pant on your back while you are getting paint on your brush and have a large piece of plaster almost hit you in the head as you are taring down the ceiling. It just makes sense.) The lofty ideas are still there... to a point. They have just been scaled back a bit... you know nonexistent.  We do after all live on a poppers budget. I would also suggest watching the movie "Money Pit" because it is as close to the real thing as you can get. If you are not seeing Smurfs, you're not doing it right!