Rainey Blogs on Some Days

We were given a choice whether or not those of us who were having a milestone service year wanted to speak on Founders Day in our department meeting. Since the one consistent feedback I have gotten during my entire 25-year career at UPS was that I don’t speak up enough in meetings, I thought I would make up for the whole thing here today. No one intends to have a long career at UPS. You come to work at UPS as a temporary thing while you are planning your life. Those plans do not include UPS. We come for the benefits, the tuition assistance, the non-standard hours that don’t interfere with classes or our other real jobs. Parents don’t envision their kids growing up and working for UPS. I think these are just the basic realities of life. I worked the majority of my career in Information Services Learning & Development or Corp HR Learning & Development. I would have never lasted 25 years had I been in Operations. I know exactly how long I would have lasted in Operations had I wo...

When a person’s last living parent dies, there is not only a profound sense of loss and finality, but also another aspect of the grief that may not be so readily apparent: the end of being someone’s child. After waiting in the family line for a lifetime, the grieving son or daughter now moves to the front of the line. And it is as this point that he or she realizes that the next train into the station will be coming for them. I think the grief of losing a parent is not just the pain of losing a mother or father, but it is also grief at the loss of one’s own youth to the throes of advancing age. The mist of our lives is evaporating, and nothing like the loss of a parent can make it any more apparent. Mortality is on full display when our last living parent departs because each of us knows our own death must also be lurking out there in the murky waters somewhere. I am not yet fifty, yet I have been standing at the head of my family line now for several years. It is a burden that has...

A spring day in May has the power to make a person feel young again, even when that is no longer true. Why? Spring brings hope. Things return to life, pointing toward the radiance of summer. Age feels powerless against imminent waves of heat.  Spring means I can't help rolling down the car windows to let the wind blow through my hair and let the stereo blare Jackson Browne's “Before the Deluge.” I don't think I'll be dying in spring because the prospects of lying in the sand by the ocean shore lifts my soul above the declines of the rest of the year. People move to Florida to escape chill of fall and winter, but if the reality of those seasons does not catch you then their shadowy metaphors soon enough will. So I plan to stay up North and ride out the seasons until they get the best of me. Today's luminous leaves are suspended on firm branches so green and secure, and will remain so for several months. But you can be sure that fall's chill will begin to fell ...

I can tell I am getting older by the way I check to see if the iron is on. Now that I am nearing fifty, I have noticed it is too much trouble to bend down and see if the iron is plugged in. I mean, it is a long way down there and lots of things can go wrong bending down that far. Dizziness can set in. You can pull a muscle. Wrench your back. (I am finally learning not to reach into the back seat while I'm driving the car for that very reason.) It is also way too much trouble to bend down and unplug the iron to be sure the iron is turned off. Besides, bending down that far for one thing is really not a good use of my time. If I'm bending down that far, I better have more to do than just check the iron. At my age, you just can't go around wasting your energy on frivolous activities like checking to see if the iron is plugged in. Wait until there's a few things to do down there before you commit—picking up paper clips, dryer lint, stray used softener sheets, etc. Getting d...

In recent years, I've noticed that I do not readily jump up in October, run upstairs and pull the air conditioners out of the windows, and take them down the stairs into the basement to store them away for the winter. I had realized this last November when I took those burdensome boxes out of the bedroom windows and carried them down. This made me think that I was in pretty good shape, especially since our bedroom air conditioner was about 30 years old and was huge, heavy, and unruly. My body managed to get the AC down to the basement by myself (a drawback in life of having only daughters), but my mind kept telling me with each precarious step down the stairs “you're getting older, you've got nothing left to prove, you don't need this, so just stop using this ancient old heavy air conditioner and replace it with a new, lighter one.” This annual rite of passage with the air conditioner is a way I've watched myself age over the past ten years. There were years whe...

The door on room 310 in Good Samaritan Hospital has a faded, metal nameplate that says, “Illinois Knitting Company” that seems out of place on the freshly painted, clean door. Illinois Knitting must have donated money to the hospital back in the 1960s. I doubt if the company exists anymore. Pretty soon, this hospital will not be here either, slated for demolition when the new version of Good Sam is built on Veteran’s Memorial Drive on the west side of town. The town is sprawling that way in the name of progress (and toward Wal-Mart and Lowe’s, the new center of town) as the old downtown and surrounding neighborhoods slowly empty out. I have come to see my grandfather, but he is not in the room. The Information Desk had him still occupying this room, but it appears that he is gone. Since he is 90, I am not certain what this means, whether he is gone to be with the Lord or just gone to the nursing home. The other day when Marcia and the girls and I visited him, we finished the visit ...