Visiting Margaret

 

It’s typical for college students to do a career related job prior to graduating, so around the fall of 1981 I searched for such a position for the following summer to put on my resume and add to my life experience.  I was about to finish my bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice, and although I had no real intention in going into law enforcement, I got hired to work as a summer police officer in a small sleepy beach town close to home. The position filled two roles – it was paid, and it filled a requirement for a “field experience” for my degree.

I credit Margaret Patten with helping me secure that position, along with May Felerski who was the town clerk.  Both women had known my parents, and no doubt those friendships aided in the process.  Margaret was also very good friends with the chief of police, Randall Foskey.

The summer went by interestingly enough, but that’s not the point of this story.  The point is Margaret.

Margaret lived alone in a small modest house in town.  I stopped by almost every shift to say hello.  During those visits, she would give me a cold drink and sometimes dinner.  But mostly she shared her life story with me.  I can’t recall the exact details, but Margaret had either become part of a city gang (the location escapes my memory) for the purpose of sharing her faith, or she had found her faith while part of the gang.  She even had a tattoo on her upper arm to indicate her dedication to this gang, which she wore proudly.

Coincidentally, I took a college class with a professor who did her doctoral studies on gang behavior, and had joined a gang as part of her studies. Looking back now, I don’t know why the thought of discussing Margaret with this professor never occurred to me.

At the time, I didn’t have a clue what Margaret was doing. I didn’t understand her motivation, or her interest in having me stop by.  I just thought she was an old lady who enjoyed company.

It’s only now that I get it.  Margaret was discipling me.  She was attempting to pour what she had learned about life into my life.  As with many things I experienced as a youth, I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. I didn’t even have the sense to ask her good questions. What I did do right was to listen.

I lost touch with Margaret after that summer.  She passed without me affirming to her that she had impacted my life, that her efforts were in fact noticed.

So I say it now…. I understand what you were doing Margaret.  You did so much more than simply add my life experience. Thank you.

Social Media Isolation and the Attempt to Re-build.

 

A while back, I decided to limit my browsing and interactions on Facebook.  My viewing became mostly limited to perusing Marketplace for things I didn't need.  I will often glance at the first FB post at the top of the feed, but that's about it.  I have resisted the urge to comment on anything. 

The fruit of that experiment is multi-faceted.  I'll spare you the long version, and go with bullet points:

• In time, I found that I enjoyed not being triggered by posts and feeling the need to add a comment. This is what Facebook is so good at - triggering us.  It's not just Facebook posts which are designed to do that, it's that we sometimes trigger each other to respond. The triggering isn't necessarily bad... it's just triggering. That responding to being triggered is addictive.  Don't miss that, not one bit.
  
• I do not miss the guilt of feeling like I just wasted "X" number of minutes on Facebook.  This was a frequent sensation of mine.  Why, you ask, did I wait so long if that was the case?
• I have been reading more.  A friend of mine regularly sends me books to read, apparently in an effort to keep me sharp.  He's a good friend, but I don't know that it's working.  It's a good effort.
• As mentioned, the guilt of wasting time perusing Facebook dissipated.  I spend more time reading the news.  This has relieved my guilt, but made me more aware of things I'd prefer to be in the dark about.
• You all have gotten the benefit of not hearing about things which are of little interest to anyone else.  This has decreased your own guilt of having wasted your time reading about them.
  

 
 But alas, it is not all good:

• I am stuck with perusing Marketplace.  I should apply bullet point #2 above, starting now.  This is likely related to the FOMO on the best deal ever on a motorcycle. The reason for this is probably two-fold:  it is by design by Facebook, and it is in my genes from my dad. 
• I have been writing much less. This is no doubt due to the feeling I have no audience to interact with since I'm avoiding Facebook. This part I hate, because when I write less, there is a level of analysis in my thinking that I may not get to.
  
• To be honest, I feel unconnected to the group of people I normally interact with on Facebook, and I do miss putting in my two cents in. I'm certain my two cents are greatly missed.
  

 

The picture you see is a re-building of an old play area we used for our kids.  We had disassembled that play area a while back and set the 4' x 6' platform (no legs... just the platform) aside for future use.  We built this new one based off that platform for our grandchildren. For anyone interested, I can supply a captioned picture of the details of this magnificent creation.