Hope Springs Eternal, and All That

This is my first big recession. Well, the first that directly affected me. When I was a kid, there were those long lines at the gas pumps, but the worst trauma that came out of that was I had to roll around in the Way Back of my Mom’s Ford LTD station wagon and angst over whether or not I would make it back home in time for Kroft Superstars. Then, in 2001, there was a recession, but I didn’t feel that one, either. I was in health care, so there were just as many patients before as after, and my benevolent employer had already told me I wouldn’t be earning any more money with him (yeah, and I stayed two more years), so clearly there was no dent in my raises/bonuses. Since its inception, the Architect’s then business was a constant struggle to keep afloat, making the crunch of hard times feel no different than what he and I had been struggling with for years. But this one–ah, this one–I’m feeling every single second of it. And, yeah, I’m more than a little scared. It goes to figure when we finally decide to be grownups and buy a house and gut the entire thing, everything goes in the shitter two months later. Sometimes when I think of it, I even feel a little sorry for myself. Then, I think of Nana.

Nana was my great-grandmother. When I was old enough to appreciate her, she was already pushing ninety, and was a self-proclaimed, “Wheezy, woozy, wobbly old bitch.” Nana was born before the turn of the century–not this past one, but the one that used to sound so impressive to young ears. Nana survived two world wars, a depression, the early death of her husband, and rebounded from loss of a breast to cancer in a time when the odds of surviving were clearly out of her favor (and reconstructive surgery was a laughable proposition). She watched one son go to war, and a son-in-law follow. She worked as a telephone operator, and still managed to bake two pies and a cake every week for her family. She saw it all, from the highest of highs, to the lowest of lows. And when my thoughts turn to Nana, I think to myself that if that old bitch could weather rough seas, then so can this young one.

Every generation has its tale of woe. From World War II, to Vietnam, to right now. It’s only natural that if one lives long enough, one will see hard times, along with the good. So, instead of wishing it wouldn’t happen, I will instead wish that we each live long enough to see the bad, and then live long enough to watch our country climb back to the top.

On a related topic (and the tinfoil-hat-type living inside me is shouting that it’s still too early to celebrate), tomorrow is the day when change comes. If I were to allocate my excitement, it would be 35% for the new guy, and 65% for the fact the other one will be gone for good. I’d post this tomorrow (when the inner foil-head girl will finally be silenced–about this topic, anyway), but I’m planning on parking my ass on the sofa and watching the changing of the guards in real-time. It’s the first time I’ll have ever bothered to watch the festivities, so you can guess just how excited I really am for the changeover to occur.

Below is my celebration song (no actual video content, sorry). I have waited a long, long time to play it. If you’re less than enthused about the coming changeover (or offended by Bad Words), skip it.

The lyrics (for those of you that don’t understand metal-speak):


Ministry Lyrics
The Last Sucker Lyrics

About Avery

I am a roller derbying, dark fantasy author. This blog chronicles my adventures in life, writing and skating. View all posts by Avery

11 responses to “Hope Springs Eternal, and All That

  • Avery DeBow

    Kate — She was a trip, that woman. I wish more people could have met her.Oh, and great to see you around! Try not to be such a stranger.

  • Kate S

    Thanks for telling us about the “Wheezy, woozy, wobbly old bitch” – beautiful!I needed that.

  • Avery DeBow

    Miladysa — Thanks. It was the Ministry that did it, wasn’t it? 😉 I believe it, as well. I’m prepared to hunker down and weather the storm. Fortunately, I had a mother and grandmother who taught me good survival skills like sewing, baking, making stocks/broths from scratch, gardening… I feel I’m better prepared to handle a tight economy than most women my age (and younger), I’m afraid.

  • Miladysa

    This is a bloody brilliant post Avery!Like Lana I think the worst is yet to come. We all know we can weather it though – we have to.

  • Avery DeBow

    Smokestack — You’re very welcome. It was praise well-deserved.Lana — And I hate to agree with you, but I do. We didn’t have the cool wood paneling. We had a big green beastie named Gilda, then a large gray one, whose name I now forget. My mom still had that last one when I was learning to drive and it was a bitch–like trying to steer a radio flyer down a hill (guess that’s why they called them wagons). Fortunately for me, my brother trashed it and my mother decided it was a good time to get a little coupe. The parallel parking gods smiled on me that day!Sidney — It’s going to be an interesting few years, at the very least. I’m fully prepared to go pioneer, though. That is, if I can find enough sun in my ultra shady yard for a vegetable garden.I left you a comment about your podcast on your blog, too, but I guess Blogger ate it. At any rate, it’s a great endeavor, and congrats on getting your iTunes approval.

  • Sidney

    I think about what it must have been like for my parents. This seems like the worst I’ve ever seen or at least it has my attention. All we can really do is soldier on. I had a little period of paralysis a while back but now I’m just trying to keep moving.Thanks also for the thoughts on Fear on Demand.

  • Lana Gramlich

    I hate to say it, but I suspect things are going to get worse long before they get better. Regardless, I'm pleased with tomorrow's impending change, myself.I also totally remember our own Ford LTD station wagon (complete w/fake wood sides,) as well as H.R. Puffinstuff & all that. 😉

  • Smokestack Jones

    Hi Avery,Just wanted to drop a line to say thanks for the kind comments on my reading of “Thief of Eyes.” It was fun to do and I was thankful I had such a beautifully evocative story from Charles to work with. Thanks again and keep listening!-SJ

  • Avery DeBow

    Charles — Ministry! Yeah, baby!!You know, that tinfoil-hat-girl in my head does kinda think it’s all directed at me, but I manage to keep her stuffed inside with promises of cotton candy.Steve — Are those eight personal panics, or more generalized ones?

  • Steve Malley

    Tough times, huh? I’ve lived through twelve recessions, eight panics , and five years of McKinleynomics. We’ll survive this.

  • Charles Gramlich

    Ah, it’s nice to be able to count on someone to stand and deliver some “real” music. Damn that rocks.As for the troubled times, yeah, they come and go. Doesn’t make it much easier to deal with, but at least you understand it’s not truly directed at you.

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