What the heck? My title for today’s blog is in Gaelic – with the pronunciation and English translation provided. Tomorrow is, after all, St. Patrick’s Day, and I am getting in the spirit.

I love the above quote but I am afraid I don’t practice it too well. When I tell a story, I feel compelled to give you lots of background information. I think this adds to the story – in minutes as well as in flavor. It’s ironic because I used to fault my beloved mom for getting so off track when she would tell a story – I am now doing the same thing.

Mothers and daughters. Mothers and sons. As my children have grown and become adults, it has been interesting to see the different paths they have taken – although looking back on them as children, where they are today and how they were as children can sometimes be a straight line.

My children were raised as Catholics and attended Catholic school up to High School. As the Sunday grumblings grew about attending Mass, I told them that I wanted them to receive the sacrament of Confirmation and then they could choose what spiritual path they would like to be on.  Confirmation literally confirms them as full members of the church – but if they chose not to be a member anymore, I would not pressure them. I have been true to my word – for the most part. I do ask them to come on the holidays but if they choose not to, I let it go.

This past weekend, my son was home from college on spring break and there was a Memorial Mass at our parish for a wonderful nun who had taught at my kids school. I asked him to come – out of respect for her and to be part of the church family once again, if only temporarily.  He agreed to come and to my surprise, he seemed to actually be getting something out of all the rituals and prayers that were being offered.

I held my tongue and did not make a big deal out of his attendance. As he showed me with his attendance, Say little but say it well.

My usual Sunday routine is to pour myself a mug of Irish tea, flip on the CBS Sunday Morning show and file for unemployment on my MAC. However, tomorrow will be different. The bank is empty. I will be one of the 3.2 million people hoping that the Senate does pass the extension bill on Tuesday, now that we have the 60th vote from the new interim West VA Senator, Carte Goodwin.  If for some reason, I don’t get my extension – then what? What can I do to find a job that is any different from what I have been doing these past 18 months?

I have networked, updated my resume, crafted individual cover letters, attended job fairs, worked with the counselor from the New York State Unemployment office and have tried to be optimistic that there is something out there for me. It is embarrassing and and yes, sometimes I even feel ashamed that  I haven’t found anything yet. I keep coming back to the line from the movie “The Wrestler” when Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson says to his daughter “And now, I’m an old broken down piece of meat… and I’m alone.”

Lucky for me, I’m not alone. I stand with my fellow unemployed Americans and try to keep my head up, ignore the slings from certain groups that we all could have a job if we really wanted to.

Hazy. Hot. Humid. Chance of thunderstorms. Classic July weather forecast said Fox 5 Weatherman Mike Woods.  I laced up my sneakers, grabbed my water and Ipod and headed out. I drive each day to a local park, walk three miles outside of the park and finish up with two miles in the park. It usually goes well, until today.

I was about two miles from the park – and my car – when suddenly the sky turned black and I could hear the distant rumbles of thunder. I had no choice but to keep going, when the lightening lit up the sky. Okay, now I was getting a bit scared. I headed towards a main road – away from trees – and picked up my pace. Then the rains came.  Torrential. Drenching. If I was driving, the type of rain where your wipers seemed useless. I tried to run – it wasn’t pretty – but I knew I couldn’t run the whole way back.

I tried to think of someone who could come and get me, but I wouldn’t be able to see my phone contacts in the downpour. I was totally soaked – shoes, shorts, hat….I kept squishing along the road, desperately looking at the cars flying by me, splashing even more water on me, to see if I could recognize anyone who could drive me back to my car. No luck. Then I started to wonder…would I stop for a complete stranger – a soaking wet stranger – and offer them a lift. Granted I look like what I am – a middle-aged woman, trying to get her daily exercise – not exactly on any one’s terror watch list. As I distracted myself with these thoughts, a car suddenly stopped, the window rolled down, and a woman said “hey, do you need a ride somewhere?”

I quickly jumped in her car and apologized for being so wet! She said “don’t worry – where can I take you?”  I couldn’t stop thanking her and babbled on and on – she kept smiling and said “no problem”. She took me to my car and drove off to work.

I’m not sure how you can really thank a stranger who took a chance and did the right thing. I just hope that if I am driving down the street in a rainstorm and see a bedraggled looking woman I won’t hesitate to help. Now, if it was a man…not so sure. I am paranoid enough to think the worst…don’t want to be a headline on the The New York Post (nypost.com)…maybe mentioned on Page Six…now that would be different!

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