One early Easter morning

 

 

Recreating an annual picture.

I had a lovely start to Easter this morning. You know how girls talk about the BFF? Mine really is—Barbara Ashcraft has been my BFF probably for over seventy years. This morning, I wakened to her email which was a quote from music we sang in choir when we were about ten or twelve: “One early Easter morning, I wakened with the birds.” I answered with the next line: “And all around lay silence/Too deep for earthly words.” No need to say anymore.

Easter is a glorious day of hope—but it can also be exhausting. By mid-afternoon, I was exhausted and felt the day was over. But such a wonderful day. We went to the nine o’clock service—more crowded than usual but not bad. The music was glorious. I said I’d go to church just for the processional, “Jesus Christ is Risen, Alleluia!” and the benediction, which was the “Hallelujah Chorus.” But it was good to be there in person and hear the inspiration of the service and sense the fellowship. At one point Christian and I thought we heard a dog panting, but no one else believes us.

I really noticed some differences between being present and attending through Zoom. It is impressive and comforting to be in that gorgeous sanctuary and nothing can compare with hearing the music live—they had brass as well as our terrific choir. I hold my breath at the high notes of the “Hallelujah Chorus” every time, but they made them. But you don’t get that up-close view—I couldn’t see the brass at all, not could I see the expressions on faces. I like in-person better, but I feel so fortunate to have the alternative on “ordinary” Sundays.

Girls version
I felt like the queen bee, because everyone
came to have their picture taken with me.

Back at the house, Jordan put together an incredible brunch for twelve and set a beautiful table with the gold-and-white Royal Doulton my mom got me when I was a teen, along with gold-washed flatware. It was potluck, and we had ham, “funeral potatoes” (that wonderful rich casserole) broccoli salad, fruit, and of course deviled eggs. My contribution was hot cross buns, but I note no one else likes them as much as I do. And wine. Of course we had wine. It was a noisy, happy laughter-filled event, everything Easter should be.

Jordan's table

Now I am marooned in the cottage, having left my phone in the house by mistake. I can’t ask for leftovers for my supper, can’t even adjust my hearing aids. Can’t check to see if my other kids are at their homes, let alone call them. I’ve emailed a bunch of friends asking them to call Jordan, but not many read their email on a holiday Sunday night. One friend reports she called and got voice mail, so I gave her Christian’s phone number. But I imagine they are both napping (which I did earlier), so I hope they check their messages when they wake up. And I’m watching like a hawk for Jacob to come home or for Jordan and Christian to bring the dog out to potty.

I started this post with a quote and will leave you with another that I really like. This is from John Roedel, who I’ve never heard of but now I intend to investigate—he has apparently published books about his conversations with God as he tries to figure out life, his faith, raising children, and so on. “A dozen angels have started living in the holes in my heart. They have put up hammocks and started growing roses—” There’s more, but now I can’t find it. I particularly like that opening image.

Does this look like mischief afoot?

Battling corporate America

 

That’s what I did today. I spent most of the time when I should have been working on my novel-in-progress fighting with corporate America. I’m quite sure I didn’t win.

The worst call of the day was to Cigna Dental. Quick recap: TCU cancelled their program covering employee dental policies, so in April I took out an individual policy. Sent them checks faithfully. Like clockwork they returned the checks to my bank. Each month I called for better instruction, sent another check. In September, I received a letter telling me they had cancelled my policy July 31 due to nonpayment. For two months I was uninsured, though I didn’t know it. Fortunately no dental catastrophes. In October, I received late payment notices, which I ignored because they had cancelled my insurance. But finally, frustrated, I called, they said it was still an open policy, and I said close it. I wanted nothing to do with them. Last week they sent more overdue notices, along with i.d. cards. Today I was on hold for 45 long minutes. A woman listened to my story and sent me to another woman who said she would review my records. I lost it. I informed her, not politely I fear, there was no need. I knew the record. I just wanted them to stop harassing me! She offered to send me to someone else. I told her to take me out of their records and hung up, my patience absolutely gone.

State Farm was better. I am trying to straighten out giving my car to the Burtons and rearranging my property and liability insurance. Turns out if I take the car out of the policy it gets more expensive instead of cheaper—go figure. The ways of insurance are inscrutable. And I as an individual, have no leverage despite the fact I have been a State Farm customer for at least fifty years.

Next came the company that makes my walker. I want to upgrade, but the sweet young thing on the other end didn’t know anymore than I did. She fed me answers I‘d already found on the online listings. Obviously, she was lookin for answers on the same page I had open in front of me. So I called a local dealer. He was helpful sort of—said my problem with an earlier walker that broke was that I ordered from a big online chain (obviously I should have ordered from him was the message). But it turns out he can’t get them—supply chain problems—so he advised me to order online, although this time I am looking at a much sturdier (and expensive) model. He didn’t seem to notice he was contradicting himself. Wish I knew an individual craftsman who could fashion a walker/transport chair to my specifications, but I am again caught in the corporate world.

Then there was Central Market. Every time I try to log in to the website to order for curbside pickup, I get a page that tells me access is denied for security reasons. The representative was really pleasant, concerned—and baffled. She turned the problem over to IT where they were also baffled but had other similar complaints. Tonight I still have no access, but I’ve had three messages from the rep, Lisa keeping me posted. That’s the personal touch I lon for in dealing with companies.

My takeaway advice from all this is avoid Cigna like the plague. Seriously, Central Market and State Farm confirmed my faith in people, but increasingly I am disturbed by trying to deal with corporate America. I’m a big advocate of shopping locally and patronizing mom-and-pop stores when you can.

Most folks don’t recognize this, but the main cause of inflation is greedy corporations. We may be paying more at the gas pump or the grocery store of the pharmacy, but it’s because corporations are raking in huge profits. When President Biden talks of restoring America from the ground up he means to better the life of those of us who don’t earn millions a month. His program supports unions, because they fight for the average worker, and he support the legislation which will allow bargaining with drug companies rather than being victims of either pay their high prices or be sick.

My frustrating calls today made me realize again that we’ve lost the voice of the individual. I talked but the hired voices repeating what they were taught to say to one and all, didn’t hear me. I was not an individual but part of the crowd. I don’t like that, and I’ll fight against it. I doubt Cigna is much impressed that I told them off, but I am!