Munga

"Munga," was a term of endearment for both of my grandmothers. I'm not sure how it came into being, but it has stuck for over 30 years. 

     This past week I missed a posting. . . for all 1 of my followers. ;) I live in NE Georgia, but attended a funeral in my hometown of East Butler, PA. My dad's mom passed away. It wasn't sudden, or unexpected, but it was saddening. So, I took a week off to pen a tribute to Munga.

     She was born in 1920. She hailed from Mt. Carmel, Illinois and moved to western PA with her husband. She worked in a hospital until her retirement and cared for two children: my dad and my aunt. Of all of my grandparents, my memories with her are the most extensive. From vacations in Ocean City, MD to walks through downtown, we did a lot together. 

     But, the most memorable thing about munga was her fostering a love of books in me. Every visit at her house, crammed with decor and memorabilia from the 40s, 50s, and 60s, was also accompanied with a myriad of books. I remember some; I've read others. But, the biggest impact from this event had to have been the trip to the funeral: across five states and two drastically different climates. Luckily, my mother in law, who stays with us and is a full time truck driver, was here to help drive. She drove the entire trip. 12+hours one way. On this trip, I also learned some very important lessons:

• Don't be afraid to ask for help. 

• Don't think, "I won't need to stop and use a restroom. I can hold it."

• Don't drink too much caffeine.

• Do enjoy the drive.

• Do take time to notice things.

• Do get some chipped ham when in Pittsburgh. 😁

• Don't be worried about how MS is going to ruin your plans.

• Don't let the MonSter take control.

• Do take time to catch up with old friends.

• Do remember the good times.

Most Importantly:

Pack enough underwear. 😁😁😁

Who Thinks Like This??

About Me

Well, if you haven't yet figured it out: my name's Josh. I currently live in the northeastern corner of Georgia and have lived here since about 2002 (full time) and part time from 1998 through 2002, i.e., my college education. In 2003 I began teaching high school and married my high school sweetheart. In 2006, our first child was born, and in 2007 things changed. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. In 2010 my teaching career ended, and by 2012 I was listed as, "Disabled." But, I never really liked that word, even before it was applied to me. So, I prefer to call myself a mandated retiree. In these few years, I've gone through, and put my family through, so much that I decided to share what has happened for two purposes. First, I want to vent my frustrations with this disease safely and quietly. Second, I miss being in a position to help people, and I hope to benefit, at least, one other person (even if it's only to chuckle at some cheesey stories). I cannot guarantee that you'll like, dislike, or even care about reading this, but I can guarantee that it'll be honest. So, with all that out of the way, I'll begin this blog officially by explaining the title: Daddy's On The Floor!
     I had thought that I had adjusted to my life as a 'mandated retiree'. I was still able to handle some things like changing my youngest's diapers, putting her down for a nap, and the like. But as she grew older, taller, and more adventerous, it became more and more difficult to keep up with her, and she knew it. 
     One afternoon, as I had just used my walker to get her into her crib for a nap, two disastrous things happened: my daughter woke up too early, and I fell. Now, those who are parents will understand the horrors of a baby not getting enough sleep at nap time. For those who do not know that experience, I'll just say that it's awful. Normally, I would have gone over to her and either sung (as badly as I can) or recited a poem (her favorite is Cædmon's Hymn) to lull her back to sleep. In this case, however, I was unable to move for my walker had rolled in the opposite direction that I had fallen, and my phone was also launched out of my reach. Seeing that I was not coming to comfort her, my daughter decided to attempt to climb out of her crib, screaming her frustrations at me each time I said, "No! Stay in bed," while trying to sound authoritative but looking like a turtle that's been rolled onto its back. Finally, after almost making it to my feet, and getting within an arm's reach of my walker, I fell again with an echoing, "THUD." 
     When I saw my daughter's redoubled efforts to escape her crib, I panicked and decided to try comedy. I looked at her, smiled, and said, "OH NOOO! Daddy's on the floor!" I altered my voice to add a comical sound to it and crossed my eyes, which to this day still makes her laugh. She was so entertained by my constant repetition that we were able to sit there for about 45 minutes, laughing and saying, "Daddy's on the floor!" until my wife got home from work, rescued our daughter from her crib, and helped me get back to my feet.