Grugger’s Way

Claustrophobia is pretty common, and I don’t know whether mine has become better or worse over time.

I think that I avoid potential situations more than I did as a youth, so I am not exposed to such moments as often.

Elevators have been bad experiences at times; the fear of being “stuck” in an elevator is not helped by television and movies where this happens.

Airplanes have been a source of claustrophobia for me, but I haven’t flown since 1995, so I haven’t experienced that for a long time. The size of the aircraft had something to do with it, but the worst part for me was always being in a window seat and blocked from getting out into the aisle. Following a HORRIBLE experience in 1965 when I was trapped in a window seat, in an aircraft with faulty air conditioning so I couldn’t breathe, I had to insist on aisle seats thereafter. I had to fly many times as part of my Navy career, including two 17-hour flights to the island of Guam, so when I left the service in 1995 I was more than happy to leave flying behind as well.

But…my MOST claustrophobic experience occurred when I was a young boy, about 8 years old, when older cousins rolled me up inside a big rug on the floor. It was a big rug, and my claustrophobia, or at least my knowledge of it, my fear of it, began on that day. I was screaming, I could not move, my arms were pinned at my side, and because of the screaming I could not get my breath, and I thought I was going to DIE! I was powerless.

I think that is at the root of claustrophobia, at least for me: that powerless feeling of having no control at all. That fits with both the airplanes and the elevators as well.

I find it pretty amusing that the articles I wrote about my broken front tooth have resulted in Google ads around my site promoting dental bonding and tooth whitening and so on. It appears that most of my blog posts lack a certain “commercial aspect” that would make it easier for the google adbots to determine appropriate commercial displays.

By the way, I do have a new “temporary” plastic crown filling the empty space in the front of my face. And I have been VERY careful while eating during the past three days. Two broken temporary crowns in a week are more than enough. You don’t know what I am talking about? See my previous posts here at “Snagglepuss could use 800 dollars now, Mr President” and here at the “broken tooth saga continues.”

Now that Today.com has enabled some product affiliates, I have decided to hawk shoes. My shoes are padded and don’t have shoestrings and what does that tell you about MY age, aches and pains, and flexibility? They are called Propet Scandia Straps, and there must be some snob value in the name alone. Wonderful shoe.

I also found a perfect yoga tape for my personal style.
Yoga for Wimps. Wow, I figure that deserves a shot. To heck with “POWER this” and “POWER that.” I’m thinking if a little stretch hurts a little, then a lot of stretch will hurt a lot. No extreme sports here. (Or is it Xtreme?…so the kids understand?)

You may notice I have added a little color to the background of the Retired and Restless site. Bright RED. This matches my eyes and catches my own attention when I am trying to find my site.

Our Cell Phone contract expires in three days and we must find a new provider, since our current carrier is discontinuing cell phone service.

My wife recommended that I “check out” the deals offered by the various cell phone carriers and then suggest which we should go with.  Like you, we have been inundated by television commercials touting the various “circles,” “fives,” “favs,” “coverage,” “family,” “bundles,” “unlimiteds,” “nationwides,” “internets,” “pixing,” and “texting”and other cutesy gimmicks—but we just want phones.

Oh, good luck. This can be the nightmare we Boomers dread!

I sat through exactly ONE PRESENTATION!   Enough!  Too many packages and too many combinations and too much stuff we don’t need.  Six THOUSAND minutes a month!  That’s three HOURS a day!  I think they are crazy!  And UNLIMITED Texting, and UNLIMITED Internet too!   (Trying to “build me up” I think, but I am just going to “let him down.”)

They offer free phones with a new account, but of course these phones are “cheaply made, and may not last a year.”  But they will offer us a great phone for just $80.  Or try an even nicer phone with more bells and whistles.  All of these seem to be named after food items, especially fruit. Thanks, but…There are business phones, adventure phones, fun phones, fashion phones and trendsetter phones.  Thanks, but…  There are Raptures, RAZRs, Renegades and ROKRs.  Thanks, but…  There are Rants, Rugbys, Renown, Sagas and Sways.  Thanks, but…

I am exhausted by it all.  I don’t want to try to explain it to my lovely wife, because too many details irritate her, and since I don’t understand the myriad options CLEARLY enough to “abbreviate” my explanation, I will just have to recommend we purchase….

Whatever she wants.

Melancholy: 

• Grave or even gloomy in character
• Gloom, dullness, great sadness or depression
• Low enthusiasm for activity
• Thoughtful sadness
• Moroseness or wistfulness

My Seventh Grade Teacher maintained an evaluation sheet for each student’s “out loud” reading ability.  At the top of MY evaluation sheet was the single word, “Melancholy.”  It wasn’t written on a particular line or in a special block or square; it was simply written at the top of the sheet.  Melancholy.  That described me.  What was I to do with that?

First of all, I didn’t know what the hell it meant!   My first action was to LOOK IT UP!   I found lots of variations on the word’s meaning, even checking in more than one dictionary.  We didn’t have internet in 1959.  Just the old-fashioned Webster, you know?

I can tell you that my discovery surprised and confused me.  “My” teacher had one word to describe me–melancholy–and it didn’t seem like a very good word.  I was upset.  I was saddened.  I became–melancholy!

Teachers can hurt young souls more than help them.  Self-fulfilling prophesy, I guess.  I wasn’t supposed to see the evaluation sheet–it was the teacher’s private stuff–so I certainly wasn’t about to ask her why or what I should do.  I didn’t tell my parents either.  Partly because I was embarrassed to be deemed “melancholy” and partly because I thought they would talk to her and she would find out I was peeking at her notes.

Oh, Oh.  Then she would have been able to write some other words to describe me.  Ummm.

So I lived with being “melancholy” and not understanding why, and that was seventh grade.  Things pretty much went down hill from there.   (1)  The eye exam person said I needed glasses; (2) The hearing test person said I was hard of hearing in my left ear like a 65-year-old,  (3) I was caught copying off another student’s paper, and (4) I got in MUCHO trouble for going to a GIRL’S birthday party where there were boys and girls TOGETHER which was NOT PERMITTED by the parochial school I attended.

On the bright side, I was NOT melancholy at the party.