Author: jensumandthensome

In my lifetime alone, I’ve been found in more ways than one.  The technology I have lived through has made it harder and harder to just blend right in to the every day.

CHILDHOOD IS CALLING

The black phone on the little table in the hallway was it.  About a 1 foot cord, so there was a chair by the table. It took forever to call someone who had numbers like “9” and “7” in their individual phone number.  Yeah.  Finger in,pull it around, let it twirl its way slowly back to it’s spot.  Seven of these bad boys.  Then the ring.  And sometimes it wold ring and ring and ring and ring…..with no way to let them know you called.
THIS IS THE OPERATOR.  MAY I HELP YOU?

When I lived in Copenhagen, Denmark as an adolescent, we actually spoke to a real live operator, trying to speak in our most fluent Danish, to dial the number of our friends. I can still hear the numbers in my head, albeit phonetically and clearly not real Danish, like “GD Nitten Sexa Tuva”, which meant “Gjentofte. 1926”.  The operator would thank us in English and dial the number.
WOW!!!!  LOOK HOW LONG THIS CORD EXTENDS!!

So, when I moved back to the states, our phone could reach with a reallllllllllly looooooooonnnnnnng cord from the kitchen to the family room with the nogahide couches were, so I could sit and talk to someone without missing a single beat of “Welcome Back, Kotter”.
JUST LIFT IT OFF THE RECEIVER AND PULL UP THE SILVER ANTENNA

Could just lift the rectangular sized phone off the base, pull up the silver antenna for better reception and literally walk around the house.  Even upstairs.
JUST LEAVE A MESSAGE

Seriously, how much fun did we have taping our outgoing messages so people could leave their own if we weren’t home?  And how exciting, and sometimes downright irritating was it to come home and see the little red lightflashing, realizing you had a message waiting?
OH CRAP. MY HIP IS BUZZING

Work. In sales.  Ther freedom to be me, to work on my own time, to be my own self-starter and go-getter.  Never a problem.  And then, cruising down the beach taking a breather, my damn beeper goes off.  Time to drive to one of my accounts to a pay phone to make it look…and sound…productive.  “Hi, this is Jennifer.  Did somebody beep me?”
THAT THING IS FRIKKIN HUGE.

The first “cell phone”.  Looking at the thing, you would have thought it was a weapon.  It was a monstrosity!!!! And heavy!  We didn’t all have one, but whoever was on call at the company had to carry it at all times.  Now, I am a runner.  I had to run with this thing.  It was like carrying a dumbbell on a 7-mile run.  I was doing CrossFit before CrossFit even existed!!!  And the reception was terrible!!
MOTOROLA

And then came the flip phone.  The cool kids had the Motorola.  Even all the pretty actresses on “Days of Our Lives” had it, and flipped it down in a dramatic huff to end the conversation.  For us, it became a new way to get hold of us ASAP.  The trick was to say you had it in the off position because you were speaking with a client, when in reality you were perusing the Neiman Marcus “Last Call” sale.  Again, time to get to an account so on the call back to the office, the noises were real. (Hey….my numbers were skyrocketing and I was the Number One Rep in the office, so cut me some slack.  Quality over quantity!!)
CALLER ID

I don’t know you, or better yet…I don’t like you…I don’t answer.  ‘Nuff said.
BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING

Sometimes, I think the worse thing that ever came along was GPS tracking.  You couldn’t pay me enough to sell something if I knew somebody was watching Every. Single.  Move. I. Made. And. When. I. Made. It.  Now, every phone has it, and if the company is paying for it, they have the right.  Not my cup-o-tea, that’s for sure.
RING.  RING.  RING. RING……

Everyone just stares.  Ignores.  Screams at it to just “shut uppppp!!”.  The dinosaur.  The….landline.  So yesterday.
RIGHT AT YOUR FINGERTIPS

The world.  The action.  The food.  The socializing.  The games.  The comparisons.  The locations of everybody you know.  The sales.  Life.  Right there.  No more wondering. It’s all literally ….right there in front of you.  Skype.  FaceTime….and oh yeah…..that reminds me of one of my favorite cartoons of all time….”The Jetsons”, when George was talking to Jane on a screen, right there smack dab in the middle of his refrigerator…and I remember thinking “That would be so cool, wouldn’t it???? But there’s no way that could ever happen!!  That’s impossible!!!”  Right?
So here we are.  I know where you are and I saw what you did.

This is for you, Kim Jong Un.

I have this thing I do.  Whenever there is a horrible tragedy in the news, I go directly to the pictures.  There is something in me that needs to see, rather than just read someone else’s words and assumed reasonings for the perpetrations.  I have this need to look and dig deeper, way down through the eyes, into the has-to-have-one soul, analyzing everything in every single pixel.  I stare and lose myself in thought.

I can take a picture in my head and rip it down to the bare minimum.  I have this ability to create in my mind a past for someone, filled with circumstances and scenarios I am not even sure of how I come up with in my imagination.  I picture the person from start to finish, beginning to current time, and all the life happenings along the way. 

For example…Remember Aaron Hernandez?  He was the pro NFL football player, who, while on trial for murder, hanged himself alone in his jail cell.  Alone.  Solitary, seemingly without a friend in the world.  Just a cold-blooded murderer who once had it all, and now was just remembered as another thug of a guy who squandered his glory and gone bad.  Dead.  Done.

I?

I would and did obsess over his childhood pictures with his brother.  Playing ball together.  Laughing.  Giggling while on the carport eating watermelon in a soiled rugby shirt with their dad in the background.  I saw happiness and giddiness in his eyes.  The dreams of a young kid living the life. From baby to toddler to young stud playing the beloved game of football.  And then something obviously went wrong.   And there it was.  The pictures in the paper and on the web. It said it in the eyes.

So….you.

I’ve seen pictures of you.  I’ve seen you on the news. Walking, talking and…smiling.  I’ve seen your big picture hanging somewhere on a wall next to some other guy, a relative, I think, and I do not have the inclination to reserarch futher who that is, because all I see is your smile.

And it sickens me to no end.

A smile on a man, an animal, an evil being…comes across as such a farce.  Phony as hell.  Makes me sick in the head and the gut.

I hear you like basketball.  So do we over here in the United States.  We love it as a matter of fact.  And we come together to revel in the games.  As a nation, many times on opposing sides, but still taking part in the thrill of the game.

Yes…we come together, because we can.

Currently, we have a leader who not everyone in our country appreciates.  And we have even had some less-than-intelligent citizens post disparaging pictures and say some very unpatriotic things about this man.

But here’s the thing:

We have something called the Constitution, and all kinds of amendments which go along with it.  It saves us from fearing our leader, allowing us, however misinformed, to speak our minds and offer our opinions without fear of prosecution, harm, or in the worst way…death. We are Americans.  We have a leader.  One who values life for all, even those who disagree with him, or those who are in the minority.  

We do not fear our current leader, nor have we in the past of those who governed before him.  Some of us may not like him, but we do not fear him.  We are not TOLD what to to do from one man or woman…rather, we are led and are a part of the plan.  Systems and balances.

Your country fears you.  But looking at your cold eyes, I can see you probably like that.  You inherited your power as that of a sniveling little brat.  You don’t lead…you intimidate.  I see your army, your stiff-legged marching minions marching beside you, and I look.  I stop the video and freeze frame and pinch and zoom into the whites of their eyes.  Not an ounce of joy do I see.  

I would love to put a camera up in just one of their homes without them knowing.  I would love to hear the hushed whispers as they speak to others about how they hate you, and don’t respect a single thing you do.  Sure, I’m no idiot….and I know the majority of all of you are so far gone you have no idea what you believe anymore, so the tyranny continues under your tiny little minutiae-in-stature self. 

I hope you are reading this somehow.  My letter to you is in response to your treatment of our American citizen, Otto Warmbier.  He was one of us.  And I would love for you to feel you have messed with the wrong country. I don’t fear your ugly little ass, and God knows I would never visit your disgusting little country, so I have nothing of which to be afraid.  You can’t touch me.  

You, the little boy who maybe once wore a ball cap, or a t-shirt with a truck on it, as you ran around the school yard playground, smiling and laughing.  Maybe if I saw a picture of you I could look deep into your own, now hard, despicable and cold dark eyes, and figure out where and why it all went wrong.

But I won’t waste my time on giving a care about you.  You are the face of a wimp, and do not command attention, but rather demand in your own diminutive way.

I hope you get yours.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Ann Welsh Summe

American Citizen 

You think you know someone, but , seriously, is it even possible to know everything before you're blindsided and it may be just a little too late to rethink the sitch…

So, in hindsight, maybe I should have told him this, you know, full disclosure of a "A Few Things You May Need to Know About Me", just in case it was a deal breaker.  

I'll limit it to 10, and not necessarily in order of importance:

10.  I will ignore all sentences, commands, phrases and questions which begin with "Just out of curiosity", because it usually ends with something behind it which is sarcastic and I'm usually not in the mood for that.

9.   I like a certain temperature in the house.  Not too hot, not too cold.  Call me Goldilocks.  I like to save money and wear a sweatshirt in the house in the Winter, or wear a tank top in the summer.  Come on.  A compromise is best.  Quit changing the thermostat.  Everybody knows it damn well costs more when you shock it.

8.   I'm not a late-nighter.  I like the early mornings.  I make no apologies here.  It's never going to change.

7.   I am Santa.  Grew up with a generous Santa.  I am carrying on the tradition.  Ho, ho, ho-freaking ho.

6.   Showers.  Baths.  I save so much with my temperate climate in the house, I am entitled to a little excessive water usage for cleansing and relaxing.  Usually 3 times per day. And along with that will ALWAYS be several different fragrances, bubbly concoctions and lotions from which to choose.  They will be adorning the walls of the shower and the tiles of the tub.  Call it my oasis.

5.   Yes.  I do have a tad of OCD.  But let's not forget the times it has possibly saved our lives or kept us from being robbed:  Before going to bed, I check all appliances to make sure they are off (I've noticed the grill has been left on), I check all doors to ascertain they are locked, and I complete the checklist with the garage, which I have on more than MANY occasions found to be wide open from the last person who entered the house.  Um, yeah.  To think what could have happened if I wasn't a 10-minute-per-night whack job.

4.   I like to shower with the lights off and the window shades completely open.  In the dead of winter, I love a scalding hot bath, with the window open, especially if it is snowing, so I can feel and see the outdoors as if I'm in a hot tub outside in the middle of a mountaintop at a resort in Colorado.  Please don't walk in and turn on the lights,

3.  I am sometimes not good at backing out of the driveway, especially with multiple vehicles on it. Expect the grass to have tire marks and muddy gulches frequently.  Sorry. It is what it is.

2.  When provoked, I've never been one to simper.  I give it like I get it.  I don't necessarily have to have the "last word", but I'm no shrinking violet. Never have been.

1.  I'd rather laugh than cry.  Sometimes they're interchangeable.

So, there it is. I don't like to think of it as "well, it's too late now", but rather "God I love that woman.  She is so multi-faceted and makes life interesting."

And by the way, there's 10 more where that came from.  😜 

I can assure you, the younger set, many things don't change.  So, my advice, for what it's worth…is to gather all the confidence you can in yourself,not only for the present time you are living and experiencing, but also for the future.  Be your own champion, know and realize deeply that you do in fact have much to share and contribute, and that you are more than intrinsically valued.

You are important.  You make a difference.

Life is so full of comparisons, from early on and through the days of our lives.  It is inevitable, and it is actually a good thing, and can be quite beneficial.  You must have a gold standard to which to aspire, to emulate, yet not imitate.  Be the golden you, for sure, and notice that which you choose not to become.  There's nothing wrong with that at all.  Hopefully, from an early age on, your parents and mentors can help with this notion.

The murky area is when the comparison becomes one-sided, when there are those who may try and make you feel not quite up to snuff, or on the same level or playing field. And they are out there.  Maybe not bad people, per se, just…well, perhaps best defined as arrogant.  You know the type…the ones who think the room should quiet to a hush, or a least a gasping lull when their presence is known.  (Insert eye roll here…).

I've been to many gatherings in my life.  And though I do not consider myself air-headed nor vacant, I am often unaware of  just exactly with whom I share the room.  Honestly.  I've never been one for knowing the "Who's Who" in a situation.  All I know is if I am enjoying myself in conversation.  And if I am, it shows…with laughter, amazement, surprise, introspection and free-flowing dialogue.  And if not, well, I'm outta there.

The first sign of someone I don't want to engage with further is if they, even one time, look over my shoulder mid-convo.  Deal-breaker. Ice-smasher. Convo-ENDER.  I've even gone so far as to change the line and subject of our little chat to see if it gets a notice.  One pause and then a re-locator from the respondent with that special look in the eyes, then I give it my smirk and simply walk away, not even giving one hoot who that person even was.

Recently, I was having a delightful, full of emoticons conversation with a really nice lady, who was dressed in an outfit I adored.  We discovered we had much in common, as was evidenced by shared experience in our lives, usually including our kids' activities, and so the conversation flowed easily, back and forth, and with no effort.  I enjoyed my time with her at the cocktail party, which I knew from the invitation included the aforementioned "Who's Who of Cincinnati", but I still hadn't a clue who was who.  After a while, we both seamlessly moved on, with natural ease , either to get a drink or peruse the room and appetizers.  I, in turn, found myself speaking with one of the young men who was there serving the crowd for the event.  Can't remember why, but we started talking sports and who his favorite players were, and who he followed on Twitter, and how I am a runner and still love to to do marathons and triathlons, but how my injury prevents this to the effort I would like.  You know, general, interesting small talk.

A little later, a friend of mine who was also at the soirée asked me about the conversation with the woman I described above.  I relayed to her the extent of the easy, breezy engagement, and she said "You know who that was, right?"

And , no, I did not.  As far as I knew, it was just a nice lady in a really pretty purplish top.  But I know now her identity.  And I still remember her awesome purple top.

Won't tell you the name here, because it's really not important.  

But the fact that somebody thought it was is.  And there is really nothing wrong with that.  I've been star-struck a time or two in my life as well.

But I can honestly tell you this:

If someone, a celebrity, an actor, a sports figure, the President, Bill Gates or the Editor-in-Chief of Vogue Magazine walked in, I would never ask for an autograph.

But would I would ask for is a selfie with them, camera in hand.

Because, you see, I'm just as important as they are. I'll send them a copy.

Things sure have changed from when I was young.  

I honeslty don’t remember even experiencing one quarter of the issues the youth of today has now.  Some major examples include bullying, peanut allergies, self image issues, and feeling totally left out of any fun social activities which may have been going on.  Wow.  I had it good.

I remember as a very young kid just wanting to ride my bike and play in the woods, climbing trees with my best friends, and playing dolls in hiding.  (That’s a whole other blog….lol).  I also remember the trouble we got into by being hellyuns by throwing raw eggs on the electrical boxes outside to see if they would sizzle.  If I remember correctly, they kinda did.  

Innocuous enough stuff.

As I got older, I pretty much did the same stuff, just with a bigger bike and no eggs.  Instead, we used to put real estate signs in peoples’ yards after collecting them from all the neighborhoods in the middle of the night.  We also used to stand in groups on opposite sides of the street, pulling on an imaginary rope when cars came by so they would slow down.  Unhook Christmas lights and wait for the homeowner to come out and yell as we scampered off in our dark clothes.

Punk stuff.  But…still….kid stuff.

When I got to high school, it sure was a huge transition for me.  My dad had just died, and we moved to a whole new city and school for me and my sister.  My older sister had already moved on in college, and then lived in a neighboring city.  Now that was hard, ain’t gonna lie.  I had to start from scratch, as I had done so many times previously in my life as we travelled the globe with Dad being in the military.

But this was different. It was High School.

It was then I started noticing just how pretty other girls were, and how cute the boys who liked them were. And when a couple of those boys showed inklings of maybe just a little bit of liking me back, well…it was just a whole new feeling. Fun. Exciting.  And sometimes heartbreaking.

But that was it.  

It was in the school hallways, or at the football games, or parties at friends’ houses when you noticed.  It was not 100% of all of the time right there at the fingertips to see what you were missing out on, or how cute Sylvia looked in those Levi 501 blues, with her long, lean legs and awesome long dark hair.  Bronwyn was so cute, and I always thought that in French class.  I heard her one day talking about a party she had gone to…one which I had not and wondered why…and then when class ended, well, that was it.  I couldn’t stalk the latest Snap to find out who was there, if it was fun, who looked cute, and what everybody was wearing.  When French was over, so were the thoughts of the party I didn’t attend.

Don’t get me wrong…I’m as connected as the next guy or gal.  In fact, once I finish this blog, well….there it goes…up “there” somewhere.  And I’ll probably post it to Facebook, because I would like to share my thoughts with. my friends…so I would be a hypocrite (which, in my opinion is the worst kind of people) if I denied the prowess and power of social media.  I use it, peruse it and love it.

But sometimes it comes with a price tag.  

We still have bikes.  And there are still places to hang.  In person, talking, communicating and giggling.  

And sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss. 

10 Things I Was Told I Shouldn't, But I Did, Do and Will Continue:

10. "You shouldn't run so much.  You'll regret it later."  Well, 24 Marathons, an IronMan, 6 Half-Marathons and countless road races later, many times an AG Winner..and 2 major surgeries later…hell no, I don't regret a thing.  #striveforgreatness when you can.🏃🏻‍♀️

9.  "Women over 40 should always have a bob haircut.  Shouldn't be past your shoulders at this age."  Ha.  Whatever.  I'll wear my hair however I want, thank you very much.💁🏻

8.  "You shouldn't take so many pictures all the time.  You're missing out on the moment".  How stupid is that?  I can, did and will continue to do both. I'm pretty talented that way…a real multi-tasker. 🙄 Come see me in your 80's when the memory doesn't serve as well, and I'll give you some pictures of your kid making the dunk, dropping the cupcake or laughing at her birthday party.📷📸📹🎥📽

7.  "Kids are hard!!  You're crazy if you have more than two!"  Ever had a snow day?  Can't drive anywhere?  I have.  And it was automatic play dates without leaving the living room.  Imaginations at play. 🤰🏻👬👭👬

6.  "Bikinis after 40 at just not appropriate".  (There's that 40 thing again…are we supposed to roll over and die at this age??).  After a decade of pregancy, I began to hit my stride at 41.  I'll wear what I want.🏄🏼‍♀️👙

5.  " Why would you move to Florida after school?  You don't know anybody!!!"  Exactly.  I was always game for new beginnings.  And I loved the sun.☀️🌊

4.  "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.  Skydiving? Why risk it?"  Why not?  And so I did.  Exhilarating as hell.  But… one and done.😳✈️

3.  "Don't sponge paint the bathroom by yourself, Jen.  Hire somebody".  Welll…..ok….I'll give you this one.  Red, green and yellow splotches.  What in the living hell was I thinking?  I'll stick to my other talents!!  Lol.🎨

2.  "They don't let women in the Quarterback Club.  Don't even bother."  I bothered.  I called , asked to be a member, and was denied.  At least I stated my case.  I still think it's stupid.  I probably know more about football than half of them.🏈🙋🏻

1.  "It's kinda too late to start your own business.  It takes years and years to be successful".  We'll just see about that.💰

Meandering down the aisles, one in the cart seat, one holding onto the cart, and four running full speed through the aisles.

Grocery shopping.  With the kids.  All six of them.

Now, I’m not going to lie here and say it was just like a walk in the park going to Kroger with all of my kids, all of them within eight years of each other.  Trust me…we had our moments.  And I will further not lie and admit to it feeling like a spa vacation on the times I could attend the store by my lonesome self, with dad or some other trustworthy babysitter watching the kin.  Honestly, it was soothing almost…seeing the labels, reading the nutrition factors, deciding on my own time between blue Doritos or the orange ones.  

I couldn’t do that with the kids climbing between the high rise soda stacks, or clearing out the bottom cracker shelf so they could lie down on it.

As calming as it was, there was always something…missing.

As I would saunter slowly past the bakery, I would see other little children smiling as the baker lady gave them cookies to help them pass the time in the frozen food aisle.  I would smile to myself as I remembered Matthew with chocolate coating his lips, or Katie with powdered sugar on her chin as they enjoyed the treat.  It became the ultimate reason for going to the grocery….the cookie treat.  In fact, the minute we entered the magical opening doors, the kids would make a beeline to the bakery.  As time passed and I sprinted down with the cart pleading “NOOOOOO……..!!!NOT YET!!!!  THAT’S AFTER THE BREAD AISLE!!!!!”, I finally acquiesced and gave into it.  Cookies first. Actually, truth be told, it bought me some precious time to head to the boring aisles like vegetables and cleaning products.

The memories.  Family time….wherever I can get it.

Today….there is online grocery shopping.  Click it, pick it up and never get out of your car.  Johnny stays in the car seat. Easy does it.

Whew.  What a relief!!!

Or is it?

I will concur, especially on rainy days, how easy and downright like a gift from God that seems.  Nothing harder than grocery shopping in the rain.  Oh, wait, yes there is:  how about grocery shopping in the rain with a a toddler or two, and better yet, with one of them having to “go potty”?  Yeah, I get it.  Been there , done that.

They say we remember the good and conveniently ignore or suppress the bad.

I speak the truth of this.

I just wish there had been iPhones “back in the day”.  I would have taken pictures of Chloe opening up the Cheerios because she “wanted some”.  I would have taken a selfie with Luke and Josh complaining because I wouldn’t let them get out of the cart. Mike liked the Matchbox cars they sold in one of the aisles, and so he just…well, opened it.  So, there was another $4.99 I had to spend.

Yes.  I would have captured it all.

For now though, it’s all right there.  It’s in my memory bank. And it was part of the memory of the best days of my life. 

Think before you click.

I just saw a commercial where a young mom and dad were lying in bed listening to the beckoning cries of their infant in the other room.  They flipped heads or tails via “Alexa” to see who the lucky one would be.

Conjured up many memories of the same.

My infants certainly did not sleep through the night til well past at least their first birthdays.  I wasn’t one of the “lucky” ones.

Or was I?

It’s true…I have read we only seem to remember the good times and seem to block out the bad, which is obviously a very good happenstance!!  I remember the babies…the crying in the night , the stumbling out of bed, tripping, rushing …getting to the baby ASAP!!  Actually, with six kids in almost exactly eight years, there was always a baby in a port-a-crib in my bedroom anyway, just a bend of the body away.

I do remember feeling exhausted, delirious in fact, every couple hours when the baby awoke.

But what I remember the most is the closeness I felt with my loved little baby, the perfect little package in my arms who looked to me to make everything right with the world, the warmness of skin, the sounds of comfort with a feeding or a patting on the back.  And I know they say not to do this…but there was nothing better in the universe than a baby falling asleep on my chest after being the nurturer, the loving parent, the best being ever built by God to take the reins.  While the craziness of the world went on around, even in the wee hours of the night, the place to be at that time was right there nestled on the flannel sheets and skin-to-skin.  All was right.

Today, there are daily reminders my kids don’t need me as much as they used to.  It’s like the balloons in a race…you start with the pace runner holding the balloons to run the entire race and achieve greatness of a goal at the end.  But if you just can’t hang on, the balloons get further and further away.  My kids are like red balloons floating ahead of me, and sometimes they go so much faster than I , it’s just impossible to keep up.  They are at a rate of speed different than my own with their growth and I just can’t seem to figure it out, or keep pace.

And sometimes my feelings get really hurt.  And I just have to shake it off and figure it out.

So I remember.  I remember when I was the biggest hero and larger-than-life person in their own individual worlds.  I had what they needed, craved and wanted, which was oh, so little , but absolutely so fulfilling to them at the time’… I was their mom.  In the light of day, and in the middle of the night.

I do remember feeling “I’m so tired!!!  I’ll never sleep again!!!”

Now I do. 

And commercials like that make me smile.​