thanks, it is nice to be able to share our good times AND our hard times. I think that the favorite teacher I had in my young years was Mr Elkotsi (don't know how to spell it) 5th grade french class...my favorite Jr.high teacher was Mr Steele who had a cute pig named euclid. if you were caught chewing gum in his class you had to put a nickel in his slot and say oink oink before his hat went up and came down..it was fun to watch..this was in a math class. and my favorite teacher in high school was Mr. Monson he was my chemistry teacher...i think that we played more volleyball than we did chemistry..he later died from skin cancer.

one person that influenced my life was my school bus driver. his name was ted and he watched out for me. he made me my own stop so that i could get home before the boys at my stop. they would stretch out large rubber bands and sting me with them. he seemed to know my sadness and offered a comforting ear. he was a grandpa type figure. the reason he influenced me.

the way i gave back to him is that i drove a school bus for thirteen years and i looked for the students like me and gave them the opportunity to know that they had someone on their side. the kids that no one else wanted to drive i would offer to take and drivers thought i was crazy..know what there are no bad kids there are only ones that are misunderstood.

i would take the bad student and give them a job on the bus and they knew that they were wanted and that i cared and did not belittle them. i felt like if i could give to just one child what he gave to me then i was sharing a dream that i had wanted to give back to him...

i was a sub on a route at the end of a year and there was one boy that came dressed in leather, chains, gang look...i took the route the first of the next school year (the driver had too many medical problems so she retired).... know what? he got on the bus dressed like the other kids..beautiful, hair cut, bright and cheerful clothes, no more gang look. i was in shock and i said you look good..know what? he almost started crying said thank you, you really helped me. that is one of thirteen years of fond memories that i need to start a book about.

my hardest memories is of the day i lost my granddaughter, i was watching her and i laid her down for a nap. her sister went into her room and was making noise and i went in to get her out so nattie could sleep, peeked into the crib and started the most horrible day i ever had and one that i relive over and over.

i got her out of the crib and yelled to the neighbor to call 911. i started cpr on her. the dispatcher wanted to talk me through this and i yelled at her saying that i had been trained and certified to do cpr and threw the phone down. i kept going until the officer( not sure if it was an officer or emt) but when he tried to get the mask on her to help , he saw that it was too big so he told me to keep breathing and he would start the compressions for me. i don't know how long we did this before someone came and took her away.

i then crashed. a neighbor took me to the hospital. i had to call her dad and tell him that she had stopped breathing. that was bad too. they life flighted her to the childrens hospital, but before they did i asked the flight nurse if there was any chance for her to live and she said no. i lost it. i went to the childrens hospital with steves mother and had to call my daughter on the way and tell her that she needed to decide whether of not to donate her organs.

the story goes on about all of the time waiting to see if she could..they did brain tests before they could call her death...in the meantime the family gave me looks that could kill. the dr.s and nurses and social worker all pulled me aside and assured me that i had done everything right and babies just die,

at 26 minutes after midnight they did one more brain test and when they took of the machine that keeps her lungs going....she crashed and died. i had to watch her die twice, once at my apartment and then watch her turn every shade of green, purple, yellow etc. they let us hold her and i got her last. i laid her back in the little hospital bed and went home to where it happened all alone.

the family was so bent out of shape that i wasn't allowed to be part of her services...i sat and watched from my car. after they left i went and sat by her 24inch casket. the guys that finish up things after the family leaves were waiting for me to go. i motioned for them to come down. when they came i told them that i wasn't allowed to have anything to do with her services, could i bury her. they said that i could and one of them hopped down into her grave and the other one gently handed her down like she was one of his own... then the guy got out and handed me the shovel and i buried my granddaughter.

i am still blamed for it by the family, if looks could kill i would be dead over and over. it doesn't stop. i still have nightmares of her ash color with blue lips. i am the one that goes to her grave and decorates it. i would like to heal from this so bad but it seems like that i am the by myself on this one. so hated when i was the one that tried to save her..if i had not started cpr they would have called her gone right when they came in the first place..they would have had no time with her.

enough of my hurt, i just hope that i can feel like i didn't hurt her as i am blamed for it. i thank you for letting us share something bad, it is good to know that someone will care without judgment. i am sorry this is so long but i needed to get it out. jaime.

-hug-

YOu know, I had a memorie this morning and it kind of through me for a loop because it came out of no where. I think I was 12 or 13 and my parents were fighting (again) and my dad just disappeared. My mom went crazy because she was worried that he hung himself (she had tried to commit suicide a few times, hence the worry). Well, you can imagine me being that age and being the family caregiver and official worrier. I searched the entire barn and the I couldn't get the milkhouse door open. Talk about hysterical!! I got out the screwdriver think I would take the door off the hinges, crying the entire time, praying Dad was okay and not hanging from the rafters. I went to get the slegehammer since the danged screwdriver wasn'r working fast enough and stopped crying and fussing long enough to hear footsteps coming coming down the drive.....DAD>>>> he scooped me up like I was a little baby and I hung on for dear life. Somehow I explained how I thought for sure he had hung himself and how I was sorry about the door and how I was sorry about everything and how some way I would make things better and I would take care of him and make him happy so he wouldn't want to die. I just remember those huge arms holding me and him telling me to shush. We watched the stars that night and he showed me the big dipper and the north star and I just loved him.

Thanks for sharing Jme5. We've been through a bit together. Hope this sharing helps you. I know it will help us love you even more if that's possible.

That's a great memory lynda. From fear to love. That's what life is all about.

i am so glad that you started this discussion...jaime :0)

I remember many great times I had when I was in the Boy Scouts 50 years ago here in central Penna, One time while camping out a friend and I shared a tent and the next day we were to make our own breakfast. We had pancakes on the menu and he decided that we would just make one thick pancake which never cooked. Breakfast that day consisted of just a glass of Tang.

Blessings Jme5 and lynda57.

elkoholics

I was a Girl Scout for years and learned early on if you want to have supper before dark don't try to boil a pot of water for noodles over the camp fire.