The Wait Vol. II: CHILLAX!

The days continued. With each day that passed the ritual remained the same. I would wait for the time when the mail was due to arrive. The now seemingly scripted dialogue soon followed: "Did the letter come today?" "Not today, honey." "Do you think it'll come tomorrow?" "I dunno, honey. We'll see." My wife and kids had been very patient with me. They accommodated the daily questions. They would occasionally would pat me on the shoulder and tell me it would be okay. They even let me be when I ultimately began rocking myself in a chair (sans rocking chair) and repeating "They said it would be two weeks but it's been more than two weeks. Two weeks is FOURTEEN DAYS." They DID become a LITTLE concerned when I began marking each passed day on the wall with a chalk mark.

Finally, as much as they love me, my wife and kids had endured as much as they could take. They had grown tired of the daily questions and the rocking. My wife insisted that I clean the chalk marks off the wall. We had begun to incur legal costs as the postman had sued and filed an order of protection against my wife for her "unprovoked attack during the performance of the postal carrier's duties". Some people can be REALLY touchy I guess. Finally, I got up one day to discover that my daughter had written a message on my bedroom mirror: "It will come when it comes so CHILLAX!" So I decided to pull myself together. After all, my wife keeps telling me "Good things come to those who wait." I'll try to remember that the next time I am in the doctor's office waiting to undergo a "routine diagnostic procedure".

Then, one fine summer Saturday, I stood outside basking in the sunshine. My wife and daughter were both out of the house. I watched the cars as they passed by my house. I was beginning to embrace the day as a long overdue return to normalcy. It was around this point that this feeling began to overcome me. It was a good feeling but, all the same, it felt unusual in light of the self-induced near catatonic state from which my wife and daughter had all but forcefully ejected me (though they use the words "gently nudged").

Out of the corner of my eye, I began to see a shade of blue. I had seen this shade before but couldn't place why it was so familiar. As I turned my gaze to finds the source of the color it became clearer. A nice man in a blue uniform toting a satchel on his shoulder approached me. He seemed REALLY nervous. "Your mail, Sir", he said. I thanked him as I accepted the delivery from his trembling hands. This guy was shaking like Don Knotts in a deep freezer. "Your wife's not here, is she?" I told him she was out and he went his way. For the life of me, I don't know what it was about my wife that apparently made him so nervous.

I took the mail inside and began to sort out the bills and the mail that goes directly to the recycle bin (addressed to "Current Occupant". Suddenly, as I looked at the last piece of mail, the good feeling that came over me turned to ecstasy. IT CAME! IT FINALLY CAME! The letter read: "Congratulations, you have been accepted….into our BS in Heath Information Management program for the Fall 2010 semester….A transfer credit evaluation including the number of credits accepted will be sent under different cover." I'M IN! I'M IN! I'M IN! I whipped out my handy dandy cell phone and took a picture of the envelope. I then sent to picture to my wife's cell phone. She called me right away and proudly congratulated me.

Alas, the next few days passed by and I began to wonder: "Hmmm, what about that transfer of credit letter?" Then, it began again. "Did the letter come today?" "Not today, honey." "Do you think it'll come tomorrow?" "I dunno, honey. We'll see." My wife was kind enough to call the college and inquire today. They said the transfer of credit letter had been signed off by the director. I should receive the package in about a week or so. I have decided to NOT panic over this (thanks to the advice of Douglas Adams). After all, the postal carrier was kind enough to drop the suit. I think I'll relax and listen to the radio. OH, MAN! The radio station is playing Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods AGAIN! UGH!

The Wait Vol. I: Wait A Minute, Mr. (or Miss) Mail Carrier

    I have found myself at the figurative crossroad recently. I have a hard time speaking about a crossroad without hearing Eric Clapton playing an A chord riff; but let's stick to the subject. I spent two years serving as a Hospital Corpsman in the United States Navy. When I got out in 1986, I worked in several hospitals over the next ten years as a phlebotomist (the guy in the lab coat that draws your blood for testing). In 1998, I was no longer in that field and, with the encouragement of my wife and a few loved ones, decided to go back to college.


   I completed my degree program in 2001. I spent most of the next eight years working in software/hardware quality testing. I now currently work in technical support. There have been some bumps in the road along the way (i.e. layoffs). Overall, I would definitely have to say that it has definitely been worth the investment of my time (and my family's time) to pursue that degree. Nearly ten years later, I find myself in my mid-forties at the aforementioned metaphorical crossroad. I know that it is MY crossroad because I can look up and see a pair of sneakers hanging over the power line. I could continue to maintain my current career in Information Technology (while picking up new skills along the way via experience). Alternatively, I could begin to move things in a different direction in the interest of acquiring new skills and becoming a better-rounded individual (and feed people a straight line about my physique). The one option I knew I did not have was to just stand at the corner and watch life pass by. I had to follow the wisdom of Yogi Berra: "If you come to a fork in the road, take it."


   My family has been telling me for years that I needed to find a way to mesh my hospital experience with my information technology experience. I finally found a degree program that appeared to do just that. Further research (with the assistance of my wife, Renee) showed that I could even pursue this degree entirely over the Internet (with the exception of internships). In the space of less than two days; my wife had called the college, we had filled out financial aid forms, and I had applied for admission to pursue a Bachelor's degree in Health Information Management. The college told my wife that they were waiting for my transcripts from my two year college. They told her that in approximately two weeks, I would receive a packet that would confirm my admission and tell me how many credits transferred from my two year college.


   I patiently waited a few days before I decided to get antsy. Mind you, my wife would probably suggest that I am apparently working on a different solar cycle (with much shorter days). I became the kid in the back of the station wagon destined for the family vacation spot. Every day I went by I would ask my wife if the acceptance letter had arrived. Very day she would patiently respond with "Not today, honey". Another day would arrive and the process would start again. "Did the letter come today?" "Not today, honey." "Do you think it'll come tomorrow?" "I dunno, honey. We'll see." If my wife was not available, I'd ask my daughter. Some days, Brianna would anticipate the question and just say "No, Dad. It didn't come today" You could almost FEEL Brianna rolling her eyes when I asked her.


   This waiting game is only exacerbated by the fact that I am beginning to notice there are a lot of artists singing songs about sending or receiving a letter. These artists include (but are not limited to): REO Speedwagon, The Box Tops, The Marvelettes, Brad Paisley, Pat Boone, John Prine and Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods. Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods have prompted me to get something off my chest here. So, please forgive me while I go down a brief bunny trail. Billy, I don't know who you are. What I DO know is that your young and lovely fiancée does not wish for you to be a hero. Can you please just tell the little lady that you WILL be a hero and to go on with her life? Otherwise, she is just going to get a letter and throw it away and we will still be hearing about it 35 years later. Therefore, I ask you, Billy. PLEASE cut us a break.

So, the days pass (as well as two weeks) and still no letter. The daily call-and-response continues between my wife and me. I know that any day now, I am going to ask my wife about the letter. My wife is going to turn to me with those gentle eyes and say: "NO! NO, YOU DID NOT GET YOUR STINKIN' LETTER! AS A MATTER OF FACT, WHEN THE POSTMAN CAME TODAY, I PUNCHED HIM IN THE MOUTH FOR NOT PROVIDED THE ONE THING THAT WOULD GET YOU TO SHUT UP!" When this happens, I will just have to lovingly look at my wife and ask: "Do you think it'll come tomorrow?"


    I did follow up with the college. They confirmed they DID (finally) receive my transcript and should receive something "any day now". I guess they work on a different solar cycle too. I think they have shorter days in the Arctic North. I guess I will just try and relax for now and maybe listen to some music. OH, MAN! They are playing that song AGAIN. Come ON, Billy. I can't take much more of this.