Toward the end of 1980, I
was in the job market so I registered with the SFCC employment office. In the
meantime, I was spreading my resume like confetti to any place that would take
it. I tried to leave a resume at the electric cooperative because I had a
premonition many years before that I would work there someday. They weren’t
taking resumes and hadn’t hired any new employees in the past seven years.
About a week later, I
received a letter from the college asking me if I would be interested in
working on a computer at a company that would train. Although my computer
skills were non-existent, I always liked to learn new things. That afternoon I
interviewed at the same electric cooperative that wouldn’t take my resume. Ed
Walters told me later that as soon as I left, he turned to Harold Ream and
said, “She’s the one.”
On December 4, 1980, the
trajectory of my life changed. I began my career at CMEC and our family had the
kind of stability that we had never had. From day one, I loved the challenge of
the job. As I took on new roles and learned new skills, I was never once bored
in the 33 years I worked at the Cooperative.
Jim and I began to take
vacations in Colorado, and we fell in love with Rocky Mountain National Park. We
camped, relaxed, and enjoyed the clear mountain air. After Jim started having
cognitive issues, we still enjoyed the mountains, but stayed in a hotel or
cabin. We still enjoyed animal watching, visiting our favorite places, and
going on short hikes.
Throughout the ten years
that Jim gradually became worse, the Cooperative allowed me the flexibility I
needed to arrange in-home care for him. It was a time of uncertainty as family
members had to fill in the gaps with the professional caregivers I hired. Before
long, I was running on caffeine and fumes. I was working as much as I could,
using vacation, my day off to make sure Jim was safe. Everyone was
understanding when I had to grab my purse and head for home when Jim wandered
off and wouldn’t get into the car with anyone else.
The second hardest
decision I ever made was to place Jim in a nursing home. The hardest was when
he was kicked out of the first home, and I had to find a new one for him. For
five years, our family and I checked in on him almost daily to make sure he ate
and was clean and dry When Jim passed
away, I felt like a part of me died too. We had been married 35 years.
I lived alone in the
house that Jim and I built for fourteen years. Then, in 2014, I married Harold
and moved into his house. Yes, we all called it Harold’s house for a long time.
I found out being a farmer’s wife had its challenges. One of the first projects
we completed was preparing metal rails for a farm fence. We lugged those all
over the shop as we sanded, primed, and painted them. He dragged me into other
projects until one day when he had me lifting heavy landscaping bricks into the
bucket of his tractor, I said I’d rather drive the tractor than lift the
buckets. Anyway, Harold was used to teaching me new skills and I drove the
tractor while he did the heavy lifting.
During our marriage, I
learned to rely on Harold, and after his health declined, he learned to rely on
me. Toward the end of his life, he made it plain to the doctors that we didn’t
make major decisions without talking it over. When Harold passed away, I
discovered that being widowed the second time was more traumatic than the first
time. It may be because I’m older, or it
may be that until the end, I hoped that he would get to come home.
As hard as it is at times,
life goes on. Harold taught me as much as he could and with the written
procedures, I can do most of the work that needs to be done. He at least gave
me a list of who to call when something goes wrong. And, boy, have I needed
that list.
Tomorrow night is the
Cooperative’s employee appreciation dinner. The first time Jim, the kids, and I
went was in 1980 a few days after I had taken the job at the Cooperative. I
only knew the first names of the office employees. Harold and I went to the
dinners until he had too much trouble walking. Many of the current employees and
retirees we worked with were at the dinner.
This year, I’ll see old
friends and meet new ones, but I know I’ll be missing the ones that won’t be
there.
Copyright © December by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
