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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Topsy Turvy

When I think back about the vacations I had with my parents and brother as a kid, two distinct classes of memories come to mind.  I will always remember and cherish the simple goodness, generosity, and love offered by our relatives.  This is one class of memories.  In this class is also the majestic sense of family unit experienced as we peered out over the Great Smokies.  All this represents exhibit 1.  Now the mystery and irony begin.  The second class of memoires involves situations such as this.  One time we were traveling through Alabama or Georgia, I forget which, and it came time to spend the night.  Now in the 50’s there were not the numerous chains of hotels with reliable quality that we are used to today.  Lodging establishments were home grown, owned, and operated. Well, we pulled up to a downtown hotel (no interstates then to skirt the cities) and got out of our two-tone 50 green Chevrolet, leaving our car parked on the side of the street.  We got a room on the second or third floor. When we got in the room it smelled like there recently had been a fire in the room.  A sign out front miraculously advertised color TV.  This turned out to be a black & white TV in the lobby with a multi-colored film of plastic over the screen.  When we finally decided to risk our lives spending the night there we went to bed.  The beds were incredibly hard and lumpy.  No one got a good sleep that night.  But this is the strange thing about the second class of memories, though they are painful at the time, looking back we laughed hysterically at the experience and cherished it as deeply as the class one memories.

I have to tell you I’ve had a rough couple weeks at work.  It has not only been rough for me but my co-workers as well.  Yet when I consider all that occurred, I already can’t help but laugh (like our family’s demeanor at breakfast following the night in Hell Hotel) at the very incidents which were most painful at the time.  I’m certain when I look back over my years at Leisure Services, incidents over the past few weeks will be one of the most laughable yet cherished memories.  I feel that I have become much closer to my friends there who shared in these Weeks of Hell.  It is my hope, prayers, and wish, that the wounds of all participants will heal nicely and everyone looking back will even eventually come to brighten up with a smile on some otherwise dreary day.   

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