Ageist Insult (Almost)

    I was at a local institution where a young agent was helping me access an account. She asked me for a Password, and I said Maybe@1. She entered it and then asked if I would remember it. I said yes, it's my cat's name. So far, so good. But then she asked, "Do you have more than one cat?"  I immediately thought she was seeing me as an old cat lady, but I kept civil and answered no. The transaction concluded with no problems. 

   Only later, recounting this to a saner person than I  am now, did I come to understand that the agent meant that if I had more than one cat,  I  might enter the wrong name. 

Midnight Mass

     Ever since we moved to Valley Falls, I've attended Midnight Mass. Later it was called Christmas Eve Mass as the priests grew older and didn't so easily adapt to the late hour, so services were held at 10 or 11 p.m. Of course I have many memories of attending, from early childhood when my parents would play cards with us kids to keep us awake. I recall a game called Pit. I remember feeling thrilled to be up so late and then going out into the night to church. The church would be beautifully decorated, most likely the chief orchestrator being Florence Cassidy throughout most of those years. I remember Loretta Hyland playing the pipe organ and leading the choir, above us in the mysterious choir loft. When we got older, my sister and I sang  in that choir.

    I remember you had to make your Confession prior to Christmas Eve, and the lines of those waiting to enter the Confessional Booth extended all the way up to the altar; there were two curtained boxes with the priest in the middle section. One time during afternoon confessions, we had been playing outside and the Vickery twins, very young, went into the church with us and were waiting in the pew when the priest emerged from the booth for some reason, and both twins dropped down onto the floor in fear and horror;  they were unused to churches and robed figures. 

I recall the church being packed during Midnight Masses, and everybody dressed up. The men wore those felt hats and would put them on the seat behind them. Most parishioners would receive Holy Communion at the midnight services, which carried with it then a lengthy period of fasting, which meant no water either. You can feel really holy when you are sleepy, hungry and thirsty, and music rings in your ears. I enjoyed every minute of it.

  When I say I have many memories of those Christmas Eves, that means I recall them in my mind. I can hearken back and remember those happenings, so long ago. But they are just memories, from a memory bank, like most memories of past life are.

However, there is one Christmas Eve that is not only a distant memory conjured up at will, but it fills my mind and I actually feel the same  way as I did way back then. 

   Dorothy and Sandy and I are walking home from Midnight Mass. We were young teenagers and maybe my parents had attended and ridden home in the car as was their custom. Maybe we three girls had sung in the choir. The Mass could have been at midnight or an hour or so earlier. The priest was undoubtedly familiar to us, but I have no recall of who he was.  Those details are not part of the aura or scene that plays in my mind exactly as then.

   It had snowed, with more additional lighter snowfall while we were in the church. Most of the churchgoers were local, so whatever cars had driven to the church that night had left. This is where the story begins:

  We were walking home, down the middle of the road, our boots crunching the accumulated snow.  The sidewalks were snow filled. We weren't particularly excited about Christmas being the next day; that wasn't such a big deal then. We were all talking. I have no idea  about what.  We had no cares or worries. Homework would not have been an issue during vacation time. Our parents were home, as usual, as they would always be, in the house we'd live in forever, and we had no health issues at all. But none of that was going through our minds. We were just walking at midnight down the middle of the road and talking about  nothing in particular. All I remember that makes that walk on this night so memorable was the streetlights shining on the snow-filled road ahead of us. As we got closer to the bridge, I felt a strange sense of what I would now call nostalgia, but I didn't know what to think of it back then. I just did not want the walk to come to an end. I wished in my mind we could keep on walking, across the bridge to someplace rare and special. Of course, I never mentioned it to the others. Now, at night, when I run out of topics to occupy my mind, the image of that midnight walk appears in my mind, and I feel the same unnamed emotion from that long ago walk , where it seemed that something mysterious and wonderful lay ahead if I could only keep walking toward it. 

OK, I'm Awake Now!

 This morning,  retrieving the trash cans at the end of the driveaway, as I typically do to avoid the chance I might back my car into them, I decided to give them one last cleaning with the hose before cold weather intervened and the hose retired for another season. It's new hose, bought only last year. We tend to replace them  every few years as they are subject to a lot of careless use on my part. I hate to coil them back on the hanger, and besides, the hanger is metal, and wreaks its own wear on the hose material. I turned the water on at its source, but as I directed the water stream at the trash can, the nozzle erupted and sprayed water directly into my  face. Startling, but, I must say, rather refreshing.

SSA Morning Update

      Some people believe in doing their  jobs. Mr.  G., of SSA, called this morning just after 9:00 a.m. He had found an incorrect number on their account. So, upon confirmation, the error will be corrected. Thank you, Mr. G. 

   FYI: Social Security payments are made for the preceding month.  i.e. Payment received in month of December is for month of November. If recipient dies in Dec. after payment is made, even though for the preceding month of Nov., SSA will "recuperate" that payment, even though it is owed to recipient. Then, SSA will repay that amount, if properly requested. Thus, room for error is compounded via numerous steps.  

   In one office, Mr. S. sloughed off his job. I guess he tried, sniffling and snuffling as he was, maybe on the brink of COVID. In another office, Mr. G. went all out in doing his job. His calling me at home was an unexpected measure.

Final duties, eternal waiting, job ratings

    Every night after I say my prayers, and then feel the sadness of loved ones lost to death or the circumstances of life, I resort to thinking of the things I need to do when the next day dawns. Last night I scheduled about five, not pressing in importance or immediacy, but still stuff that needs to be taken care of.  It's true I seldom get to complete all the tasks, but today I got to only two. 

  A surviving spouse is confronted with lots of paperwork, even in simple circumstances, forms to file,  accounts to handle, notifications, etc. The larger the agency, the more complicated closure becomes. I would rate NYSTR System as tops in efficiency, but then it's only mostly one state, and the interaction benefited the system. The VA places next; again it is a termination to their benefit. Those  interactions have pretty much concluded. Social Security is the beast. I know it is huge. While I was on a (I timed it) 45 minute wait this morning, the wait-music was interrupted at least a dozen times to thank me for my patience, and inform me that the wait is because they serve over 50 million people. 

   I had received a letter from SSA that I would receive a final reckoning owed to Dave. The letter, from Nov. 3, said it would be SOON.  So I have waited, not  knowing how SSA interprets the meaning of "soon."  But I realized also that, if the proper forms and accompanying materials are submitted, the monthly payment should be that of the higher amount of the surviving spouse. Of course, I'd filed the paperwork, not that it's a crucial matter, but my payment is just half, and that's what has been issued.

So I called SSA , and after a long wait, was connected with an Agent. The wait was so lengthy that I had put the phone on speaker mode and set about the next task on my schedule, mopping the living room carpet. Yep, that's right. Me and my old cat together caused certain issues that could only be resolved, to some extent, by scrubbing with soap and water. 

   Mr. S. , the Agent, listened, sort of, to my query, and after unsuccessfully trying to direct me to a website, where no category fit my issues, asked me for a slew of information. After that, and several waiting periods, he returned to the phone to tell me that my information was not to be found in the system, whether the fault of his computer or a wider issue, he couldn't say. He told me to call the SSA in Troy. I asked how they would be able to help if he couldn't since the system was the same. He said they would be able to. 

   Thus, obediently, I called SSA in Troy. After again enduring the rites of hell, which constitute their recorded information, and only a mere 30-minute wait this time, I was connected with Mr. G. (It seems that is the form of identification now, not a first name, but Mr., maybe a sign of the sexually ambivalent times, I don't know.) I mentioned that Mr. S., at central headquarter, had told me to call Troy because his computer couldn't locate our information. MR. G's first response was how could that be since it's the same computer system, and then, let's forget about what Mr. S advised, as he was not of any help. Mr. G. than did a diligent job of researching, consulting with his director, and after a while resolved the situation, or so we hope. He retrieved the "soon to be received"  letter so he had the relevant  information. The submitted forms were registered; he could not say why they were not acted on. So he said I needed to have an interview to review stuff at the Troy office, but COVID dictates it will be a telephone interview. He kindly scheduled the interview; the soonest appointment available is February 3. 

UDO

 Unidentified Dead Object on roadside by mailbox. Maybe a hedgehog, or porcupine.   I don't know, hope it doesn't deter mail delivery.