|
This was the summer from hell. In June, I’d hurt my wrist
at work, and was first in a cast, then a splint, putting an abrupt end to
my landscaping plans. The injury also sharply curtailed the amount
of time I was able to spend at the keyboard. The heat wave sent temperatures
to the mid-90s, and there they stayed. I couldn’t do my job, couldn’t
work in my yard, couldn’t chat online, couldn't swim....in short, I was miserable.
The one bright spot on the horizon was the upcoming Moody Blues tour. I’d spent hours buying tickets, making hotel reservations, planning to meet with my Moody pals in 5 different cities, entering the OFC raffle for a backstage pass in Greenville. But, even this bit of fun fell under a cloud, when the post office told me they were firing me for not reporting my injury immediately. I was sure they couldn’t make it stick, but there was a very real chance that I could be without my job for quite some time, if I couldn’t get it resolved before the effective date. Since all the trips had been paid for long before the post office dropped their little bombshell, I decided to go ahead with my plans, although I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it as much as I would’ve otherwise. But, I needed some fun! As the date for my first show, in Greenville, drew nearer, so did the deadline for filing the grievance to reverse my removal from the USPS. The union rep had done nothing to help me, so I was apprehensive. The drawing for the backstage passes had come and gone, and I’d heard nothing from Ivy. Others had started posting to Blue World about winning, but I was far more concerned over the prospect of losing my job than losing a pass. Finally, the deadline arrived, and I had to take matters into my own hands. I met with the supervisor who’d issued the notice, on Friday, the 13th of August. After an hour, I walked out of the office with my job intact, humming Strange Times, and wondering why everyone thought Friday the 13th was a bad luck day!!
I hurried home to call my sister, Joyce, |
who was going to Greenville
with me, and told her the good news. Then I got online to send the
same news to my other friends, who’d been commiserating with, and praying
for, me. When I signed on, there were nearly 60 messages, a mixture
of emails, and posts from Lost Chords. I scrolled down the list to
see if there was anything urgent waiting, then returned to the top and read
them in order. Somehow, I’d completely missed the sender’s name on the
third from last message, “moodyblues”.