Facebook and Why I think the Way I Do

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Facebook (FB) has become my primary source of entertainment and I don't know how to categorize this fondness. Is it good or bad? Right or wrong? People who don't FB don't understand it and to tell you the truth I don't either. I worry about revealing my love of FB though. Wouldn't it be equated with the comment, "I love TV and watch it all the time!"? Maybe I shouldn't have to justify it but it still seems like a guilty pleasure. Sometimes I comment, usually on others' comments and sometimes I type one out and then erase it. I guess I think if I type it out, I've gotten it off my chest and I can let it go.  The erasures are the thoughts, made on the spur of the moment, with little or no processing. I "try" hard not to comment and sometimes my kids act as my overseers. They let me know when to tone it down and use my 'inside voice' but there are times, when I can't help myself.  I lay that issue in the lap of My TBI.   My head injury can be used as an excuse for lots of the things I do so why not throw that in?

My history with FB goes like this. I joined 9 or 10 years ago when I lived in Boise. Then, after my divorce, whenever I visited Montana, I met up with an old high school friend. He and I talked about this Facebook thing and decided to do it even though neither of us understood why we would want to. After joining we quickly forgot about it but, little by little it hooked me. The only way I can explain this trend is that, to me anyway, it is like a magazine with very short articles about my friends and family. At least that's how it started for me. That, and I could play a new kind of solitaire, and save a few jungle animals which, I figured, might help my damaged brain (severe TBI in 1991.)

I excused my new obsession by saying, "I get to see pictures or my kids and keep up with their lives on FB."  That part was easy because my grown children live a state away.  But then I retired, and my spare time seemed limitless so I found myself spending more and more time on my laptop.  Finally, after Tump became our president, I became seriously addicted to the crazy story that someday will be history.

"Facebook shouldn't be your only source of news Mom," Son-Harrison told me," eye roll included. But I have never been political so I didn't know what I knew.  I taught U.S. History to 5th graders so I know the basics but more was needed so I went the extra mile to educate myself about the current actors and key issues facing our country.  To that information I added what I found when I dug through the files in my brain.  Then I wrangled all that with my beliefs and put them into words.

I setup my FB feed to include both mainstream media and news from the right and far right and then I simply read, a lot.  Because I found out FAKE news is really a thing, I always check my sources' reliability.

Because of my head injury I can be fairly random and I am not timid about voicing my opinion, at least about our current president, so my FB friends know what I think.  You won't change anybody's mind on FB, daughter-Rachel said, and I am not even going to try. Instead, I want to explain how my world view came into being.

I grew up in the red state of Montana and don't remember seeing prejudice although I am sure it was there. The stools in my dad's bar were filled with all types of people and Dad treated everybody like a good friend. Then, I went to the University of Oregon and unlike Kalispell, it was very diverse. There were all sorts of different looking people in Eugene; ethnically and otherwise.  It was not uncommon to see a bare boobed nursing mother with dreadlocks, feeding her naked toddler at the local bagel shop and I competed against many African Americans, who to me were just athletes.  I never saw an angry, mad or mean hippy, though, and I never felt uncomfortable or unsafe anywhere.  I stand with all races, faiths, sexual orientations, rich or poor.

Then I lived in Lynden, Washington.  It was once the "Berry Capital" of the world!  All those berries as well as other crops needed to be picked but we were a town of only around 5,000.  High schoolers did some of the picking but it was also necessary to hire migrant workers, to bring in the crop, completely and timely.  Those farm workers' kids were in school with mine.  Parents worked hard to provide for their children the same way all parents do.  Therefore I stand with migrants who may or may not be legal immigrants.

Several years ago my best friend married a man, who rode under the floorboards of an uncle's truck from Mexico to California at a very young age and went to work as a dishwasher.  He worked his way up to Chef and was granted amnesty by President Reagan.  He works hard, pays taxes and is a wonderful man who has contributed, only positively, to our country.  Therefore I stand with immigrants.

Then, I moved to Boise and when questioned about my political bend, I said I was not sure.  A fellow instructor told me all teachers are democrats.  Still, I wasn't certain.  I simply voted for the candidate I liked more.

I taught at a school designated E.L.L. (English Language Learners) so we had a number of refugees and I came to know the my students' families.  They also only want, for their children and family, the same things we do.  Most were wonderful people and were in our country because they were not safe in their own therefore I also stand with refugees.

My years in education also taught me about the people living on the fringes of society.  I learned about hunger, violence and despair.  My belief is that we cannot know what we have not experienced and those on the edge are people who deserve respect unless we are given reason not to.  Therefor I stand with the poor.

So now people, whether in agreement or not, might be able to better understand my liberal rants.  And now you know how easily I can be contacted on Facebook because I'll probably be there!

"Still Lexie" the Book: Done

My book's title is Still Lexie because I am. In 1991, I suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car crash in California's high desert.  Some head injuries cause distinct personality change but when mine finally surfaced from the fog of uncertainty no one told me it had changed.  

I didn't need anyone to tell me that physically, I emerged a very different person.  I never regained total function in my right hemisphere and I call the way I walk a 'hobble.' Even after two surgeries my eyes continue to wonder around their sockets, too, both working just not in unison.  My balance continues to be a major issue and I now use a rollator, walker on 4 wheels, when I need to be upright for a long period of time, especially on the track at K.M.S.  I am also slower mentally but friends, especially those with no reference to the before me, say they see no limitations apart from my limp. They are polite.

After several years of pecking at my laptop with the 5 fingers on my left hand and the right pointer digit, I have finished "Still Lexie" my memoir. I am now in search of a Kick-Ass Literary Agent and, or Publisher.  Actually, I'd take anyone willing to publish me.  Currently, I am sending out submissions. 

I began writing this book in Boise in 2009 by reading the accident report for the first time and writing the details around the actual crash, taken from accounts from those that were there.  They were conscious, whole individuals, I was not.

After divorcing, I decided to move back to my home in Montana, where I began.  I continued to write sporadically but was having a hard time organizing.  The book took a backseat.  For the most part, I was focused on getting my new, single life together.  But then, Facebook told me a classmate, Kelly, published a book.  When I actually saw her, probably for the first time since high school, she shared that she enjoyed my blog. "There's a book there, you know!" was her comment.

As casual as I could, I said, "I've started writing one and lots of my blog stories are in it."

It is difficult to say, out loud, "I am a writer," unless you've had material published.  It puts your writing abilities on display and what people actually hear is, "I want to be a writer."  Kelly had been published therefore she was a real writer and I was encouraged.  

She asked me to send her what I had written and said she would help me get it done. And she did. Kelly was only an acquaintance in high school, the friend of my friends but we have quickly bonded and I am certain I would not have completed the book without her help and her friendship.

From her I leaned it needed to be a memoir and because of that I would have to start at the beginning. She told me my readers needed to know me before the accident so I started when I did; my birth in Kalispell, Montana.  I had not lived here since coming home summers during my college years in the early 80s so writing about my childhood came easier after returning to the Flathead valley.

I wrote about my childhood; growing up in this last best place which I now appreciate tenfold.  I had help recalling my high school years and early track career from coach Joe McKay, who I see a few days a week at Sykes, a local diner.  Then, I travelled to Eugene to meet with Mark and Tom my Duck coaches extraordinaire. When I thought I was finished, my children read what I had written and gave me their ideas.  I made some changes, wrote some more and finally arrived at the conclusion.

My objective was to tell my story; the rise, fall and return to self of one of Montana's best track and field athletes.  It's from my point of view and was not always easy but it was something I had to do for myself. It is a book about my life, almost to date but includes Montana stuff, things about Track and Field at the University of Oregon and general head injury information.

Reaching this finish line, years after leaving the blocks might be more satisfying than any race any race I ever ran, maybe.

Nerves

This must have something to do with me head injury!  At least that's my go-to when things go wrong physically.  I've come to realize, however, that I am just getting old.

My left arm has hurt for some time and I attributed it to a pinched nerve in my spine.  I only know that because some time ago I had the same kind of pain but it was excruciating.  The only relief I got was holding my arm out straight to the side, shoulder height.  I saw a spine doctor who sent me for an emergency M.R.I. and operated within a couple days.  That time it was to repair a herniated disc.

This time, the pain is tolerable but began to grate on me so I went to the orthopedic doc who has operated on me several times.  He had repaired my rotator cuff so I was hoping, in some sense anyway, that I had an issue there.  He poked and prodded and came up with, "It's not your shoulder, go see a spine guy."  I told myself I would continue to tolerate my pain because I thought the only other option was another operation.

I dealt with the pain as best I could but finally decided I'd see my spine doc.  His bedside manner is not great but I care more about his surgical abilities which have served me well.  After he poked and prodded he said, "It's your shoulder."

"But Dr. E. sent me to you!"  I informed him.  Quickly he told me it was common to confuse the cause of pain in that area.  Then he said that a shot of cortisone would take my pain away immediately if my rotator cuff was torn again.  Poke, ouch, burn but my pain remained so he sent me to an 'electric' guy.

Today I saw that guy and the first thing he relayed to me (from the spine doctor's notes) was that my neck was a mess.  That made me feel great, of course, but before I could process that he began the test. First, he attached an acupuncture-like needle on various arm parts and jolted me to find out how my nerves were working.  Again, poke, zap, twitch, jerk and he determined that, yes, the nerve in C7 was not right.  "Your other doctor will probably try the cortisone again but in your spine," Doctor Electric told me.

Doesn't that sound great?  It creeps me out but if my pain is eliminated it'll be worth it.  And what is one more medical procedure? I understand that because of the trauma this body endured, it will age faster.  I don't have the reserves people with a complete, non compromised brain have and I will begin to break down sooner and that appears to have started.

I try not to dwell on this fact but it is becoming difficult not too.  My mind set has been, "I've done a lot in my life," and I don't feel cheated but now I realize 'pain' may be part of my life equation.  That's the hard part.  My T.B.I. dumped lots of physical issues on me but I spent many years without pain. People have said my tolerance for pain is high. But age seems to be dragging it down.

Bunny Hopping

To clear a hurdle properly, one must pull their trail leg through, slightly rotated out, under their armpit.  The slight rotation is critical.  If you do not do this I call it bunny hopping; all the leg action is happening underneath your person.  My number one objective is to teach my hurdlers how to NOT bunny hop.   If a kid wants to hurdle, is making an attempt to do it correctly and having fun, they become mine.

This year, a girl I coached for two cross-country seasons and two track seasons told me, "You're the best coach because you don't tell us were doing good if we really aren't."

I asked her what good it would do if I didn't correct them and she replied, "No good!"

Many 7th grade hurdlers return  in 8th and I depend on them to tell the new kids that I'm not really crazy, I just shout a lot.  I'm not yelling at them, I am coaching and try as I might I cannot keep quiet.
"No, no, no, you're bunny hopping! Remember the Hang Pop?  That's how it should feel!"

The Hang Pop is an exercise we do that mimics actual hurdling.  Kids stand on one leg at the barrier with their other leg hanging over the crossbar, that thigh horizontal to the ground.  After they are set they push off the foot on the ground and simulate 'finishing' the hurdle.  The leg on the ground comes up and becomes the trail leg.  It lets them feel correct hurdling, plus it's a good exercise for those who bunny hop continually.  "Go have so and so help you do some hang pops," I repeat often.

Bunny hoppers practice on the grass until they don't bunny hop or they want to run on the track with their peers.  There are no hard and fast rules.  But when bunny hoppers move to the track and start to run fast, I cringe at the thought of a child catching their foot on the hurdle and going down.  Just this year, early on, a girl broke her wrist and I've had a lot of scraped body parts and such.  All weather tracks cost a lot of money though, so K.M.S. is stuck with what we have.

Bonus!  When the middle school ended this year, I was able to continue coaching.  One young man will be running in the A.A.U. meet in Bozeman and asked me to help him with his long hurdle race. Of course I said yes.  He is a dream athlete, almost.  He ran both hurdle races at the beginning of our middle school season but informed me he would only be continuing with the 200 meter hurdles, When I asked him why, he told me he hit seven of the ten hurdles in his first 100 meter hurdle race. But, when I told him I could teach him how not to hit them, I may have caught an eye roll and shrug.

I breathed a sigh of relief our first day on the all weather surface of the high school track.  I felt like I was home.  The fact that I only had one athlete training for one race was also a new feeling.  I was in heaven!  The boy has a good sense of what his body is actually doing so it makes my job easier and his dad was at my beck and call; he scrambled around moving hurdles and even ran some intervals with his son.  We'll probably have our final practice in a couple days but I am thankful for the opportunity I've been given and you can be sure my hurdler will not be bunny hopping.

Coaching from a Rollator

    

K.M.S.Track started.  Our season is short and we're halfway done already but today's meet has been cancelled.  I ran in Oregon as a ...a Duck but this was even a first for me. The track meet was cancelled because of wetness; massive puddles and mud.  It's truly a bummer because I was all set to see my athletes compete.  Instead we'll have practice with a twist of 'fun.'

This year I decided to give myself a break and am utilizing a rollator. So you know, a rollator is a walker with four wheels.  I know, I had not heard that word before either but when I went searching for a walker, I found this.  My new accommodation or mobility device, is simply wonderful.

It all comes down to the seat! I can sit down every time I stop and that is valuable beyond belief. Much of the time, if I am merely touching something I am more stable so with my rollator the 'grab' is always there.  The bonus is that it is not your gramma's walker. I added a picture so you can see for yourself it is very mod, almost futuristic and I can actually sit and push myself around using my feet.

The other picture is from the time trial, our first competition and only a few have opted out of my events so I still have a lot of kids hurdling.  I love being with my hurdlers at the hurdles, even in the rain and cold.  It makes me feel valuable when I see the joy on their faces and hear 'One more time? please!'

I'm certain the teacher-coaches try to take a couple minutes between academics and athletics so two non-teachers, myself and Marie, usually arrive first.  I use my whistle to scare away the kids that don't belong and keep the kids from wrestling. Kids seem to need to touch one another and it takes many different forms but it all leads to someone getting hurt.  I sound like everyone's mother now, I know.

There is more to coaching a bazillion middle school athletes than simply teaching them to hurdle. Sitting in lines on the gym floor certain coaches take attendance, kids are recognized for hard work and announcements regarding everything track are given.  Then, the kids run some laps to warm up before drills.  We have 150 plus kids and they line up in rows of five or so for form running drills which are done together.  Finally, I  actually coach kids running over hurdles.  I can no longer move hurdles but I have a great student manager who sets my hurdles initially.  During practice athletes move them if need be and kids return every hurdle to the shed when practice ends.  Good kids.

So no meet today and no hurdles either, I will assist in a sprint station.  That is the 'more' in coaching
middle schoolers.