Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

December 10, 2007

Today’s Announcement

Christmas is just around the corner and most of you have already started to think about Christmas gifts for this season.  Why not help out Storytime Tapestry with its ongoing commitment to provide you with free wonderful stories and poems daily by purchasing the publisher’s newest book for someone special on your holiday gift giving list this year.  Angels Watching Over Me can be published through lulu press in both hard copy and e-book.  Just click on the link:  Angels Watching Over Me

Important notice: Storytime Tapestry is a free e-zine, however donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   You can make your donations to paypal at: winterose@videotron.ca, or if you would prefer to use the mail system contact the publisher at the same email address: winterose@videotron.ca

Today’s Stories

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The Changes Life Brings and the Lessons We Learn, Part V

Pina Martinella

 In 1977/78, right after I lost the job at the lighting firm and started a new job two weeks later at a wing of New York's largest University system, the basic focus of my life pertained to my job and the need for me to hone new office skills that were still taking shape before my eyes. In this first job working for the University's centralized computer center for its 19 colleges, I was employed as a clerical worker in the Purchasing Department. There, I was responsible for answering telephones, typing purchase orders for my supervisor and then separating them out for distribution and mailing, among other things I was assigned to do. Sometimes I was called upon to serve as the relief receptionist for the Main Reception desk when the receptionist went out to lunch or was absent, while at others I was responsible for covering the phones for the Executive Secretary who worked for the executives in a suite of four offices down the hall. 

          Every time my supervisor Nancy was directed to send me to the Executive Office to cover the telephones, she groaned and complained because it impacted upon her work, while I all but shivered and quaked in my shoes. I was terrified of the Executive Director and the other Directors of the Center responsible for key operations like Systems Analysis and Maintenance, Software Development and Installation, and Administrative Services, fearing I'd fail at answering their telephones correctly or with any measure of command. Fortunately, I did the job well and my competence would eventually hold me in good stead when the Director of Administrative Services asked me to serve as her Administrative Assistant. That would come later, but first I will concentrate on my earlier years because working for her is a chapter in itself.

          In addition to the clerical work I did for Nancy, who was the official Purchasing Agent, along with covering the various phones at times,  I was responsible for handling the more mundane and tedious projects for the office, such as filing all of the purchase requisitions and purchase orders we had processed each day. To this day filing is one job that I absolutely abhor,

despise, and avoid as much as I can because the entire process is as irritating to me as mosquitoes are on a hot and muggy summer night. I also don't have the patience or tolerance for standing with my head in file cabinets, so filing has become one of my less than stellar skills in the course of my long career. Fortunately I work with someone who is far more patient than I am in this regard and she willingly handles it for me. But then, it was my job and I had to do it correctly. In those early years when I had to do filing, I was so bored with the tedium of that kind of work, I'd file with amazing speed few could match.

          Unfortunately, because I was so good at filing, the office's Accountant asked that I also assist her with her filing, in addition to typing payment vouchers and other accounting-related reports. Being assigned to work for Marcia on a few occasions made my stomach sink because she truly did scare me at first. This was before we became good friends and were able to let our hair down in due course. But at first, during our initial interactions, our opposing personalities and styles seemed to clash as if we were oil and water. Naturally I thought I would be fired because of this clash. We didn't argue, actually. We just appeared to be polar opposites and awkward with one another.

          Marcia was a formal and reserved person whose personality obviously contrasted against my somewhat informal, bubbly and professionally inexperienced personality. Naturally, because self confidence was not my forte at that time, I nearly convinced myself she didn't like me. She was cool as a cucumber, while I appeared loose and fancy-free. I would later come to be fond of Marcia because she actually was a wild child outside of the realm of the office environment. She had a ready laugh and a devilish mind that fueled my own inner wild child. Yet, in those early days of working with her, I did my best to maintain my best and most competent office persona, fearful that I would disappoint or anger her. Marcia was my unofficial mentor, even though I didn't actually report to her.

          Marcia was several years older than I was and seemed to be the consummate professional while I naturally believed I was the consummate joke. She dressed beautifully while I stumbled around searching for appropriate office attire that matched my somewhat free spirited and artistic nature. While Marcia always looked polished and professional, I looked like a kind of female Linus, the unkempt character in the Peanuts series of cartoons. Despite my near Herculean efforts at looking polished and professional, I always managed to look somewhat cockeyed when it came to my attire. A blouse tucked in moments before miraculously became untucked as if invisible elves snuck up behind me and pulled it out of place. Carefully rolled shirt sleeves became undone the instant I moved an arm, oft times leaving me with one intact and carefully rolled up sleeve on one arm, while the other slipped down to my wrist, unbuttoned and wrinkled, an "interesting" look when one is attempting to appear professional. Even my hair didn't cooperate with me. I could brush my long, wavy hair 800 times and still find it out of place moments after I brushed it. I was always embarrassed about this aspect of myself until I learned to work with it. In due course and with maturity, I would learn how to work within this aspect of myself and define my current style, but then I was a bull in a China shop trying to fit in when it came to style and presentation. Marcia possessed that gift while I did not. I wanted to be like her and not the awkward kid I was.

          I wasn't entirely crazy about Nancy, my immediate supervisor who doled out my myriad assignments each day. Though she appeared nice, she was actually somewhat bland and colorless as a personality and this bored me. We had nothing in common so talking to her was sometimes strained, unless, of course, the topic of conversation centered upon her impending wedding and its assorted plans. She was self-centered in that way and it bothered me. None of my interests captivated her enough to embark on any semblance of a real conversation between us, which was unfair to me, especially when considering the many hours I spent listening to her dream about her plans. Yet, I really shouldn't have been surprised by this at all. No sooner than I first met Nancy, I knew that her sole purpose in life was not to establish herself in a career, but rather to get married and raise a family.

          While I respected her choices and felt there was absolutely nothing wrong with them, her choices were things I simply did not relate to at that age. I was 21 years old and thoughts about marriage and motherhood were so far off my radar screen her desires for a more traditionally-centered life seemed foreign to me. I was more concerned about establishing myself in the professional arena and never dreamt about my wedding day, even as a young girl. In turn, Nancy looked upon me as something of a female oddity whose professional desires were dominated by what she deemed to be more masculine traits in the young woman that I was. In her mind I should want marriage and motherhood, while in mine I felt she should strive for something else that would satisfy and meet her goals beyond the scope of traditional values and mores.

          Because my mother had died a few years before, it was especially critical for me to meet women I could identify with in order to find my self and define my professional goals. I had long identified with my father's career-focused life because it interested me more than my mother's did, and yet, because I was maturing as a woman, identifying with other career focused women was more important than defining myself through the eyes of men like my father. As a young girl identifying with my father was adequate and understandable, but as a young woman on the crest of change, other women who I could model myself after would serve me in far better stead than a man would. For me then, meeting a woman like Nancy at that period of my life, a time when I desperately needed guidance and mentoring, was difficult for me to traverse in those early days of my career.  In college I was surrounded by like-minded women intent on pursuing a career track, but in the real work world, I was not. In time I would learn how to negotiate these issues with a full measure of acceptance of human diversity, but then I found it confusing and odd. Because of this, I chose Marcia to be my mentor. 

          Despite our complicated relationship, Nancy was actually supportive of me in her own way. Unbeknownst to me when I first interviewed for my job, I eventually learned that I was actually being trained to serve as her replacement when she would resign four months after I started working there. Had I been incompetent, Nancy would not have formally recommended me to replace her and another search for her position would have been conducted. Yet, because I was competent in my own unique way, Nancy did recommend me and my professional journey began. In a way, though Nancy will never know this, I am grateful to her for that first real start in my career. Perhaps, in some odd way, Nancy was my truest mentor then, before I was mature and experienced enough to recognize the gift she gave me at that time.

Funny how things are revealed to us when experience and maturity illuminate life's truths as we age.

To be continued....     

Pina Martinelli

Pina1101@aol.com

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In The Garden
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

In the Garden, a church hymn. Have you ever thought about the
words? A lady now long gone, once said she didn't believe she
understood the words. I think that may be that she just never took time
to see the beauty of God's world.
People forget something. As a child, one sees things an adult don't
see. Many times, we forget what is said in the Bible. A child sees
simple things and the wonder of simple things, a drop of water, a
falling leaf, a snow flake, a butterfly, a bird. A child hears a clap of
thunder, hears the wind or the bird sing. Things an adult forgets to
see, or hear. Oh the adult hears, and sees, but never thinks about what
they see or hear, may be God talking in a soft voice.

And He walks with me. Yes on your daily walk. You hear the birds
singing, you see the falling leaves, the flutter of the butterfly, the
falling flakes of snow. Each thing is in some way God walking with
you.

And He talks to me. Yes here we have the same thing. He is talking to
you as He walks with you.

Too many people are looking for big things. They have the ears on, but
only hear the crash and boom. God talks slow, soft, and walks slow
and easy. There is peace in the Valley. This nice soft, almost quiet
is not what adults are looking for. A child can see, and hear it
because they think as a child.

In the Garden, things grow, there is the Peace in the Valley. That is
because walking and talking to you in a soft voice, you are guided
through this life. If you are looking for God to step out and be seen,
you're not thinking right. If you're thinking  there should be a
booming voice, forget that also. God walks slow, easy, and speaks with a
soft voice.
God comes to you in many forms. he shows you many forms. He may
send you the rain, the snow flakes, the bird, the butterfly, the buds on
the tree in the spring, and then the falling leaves in the fall.  If you
stop, think, and then look, turn on the ears, think as a child, yes
there God is walking with you, and talking to you. Walking soft, slow
and easy, a small voice talking to you.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

Poetry Corner

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Jacob’s Poem

April Lipscomb

I wrote this for my little guy who loves autumn as much as I.

Dressed in golds and reds, one final show

Mother Nature takes an encore

Gone are the greens that dressed the oak

Trees no longer wear their splendid cloak

The blooms have all fallen from the flowers

Gone are warm days and summer showers

The heat replaced by a cold breeze

blooming flowers have gone to sleep

The streets are decorated with fallen leaves

Pumpkins and goards steal the scene

Little tots will be rushing about

"Trick or Treat" we'll hear them shout

Turkeys are fattening up for that big day

Families will gather, some from far away

A dress rehearsal for the Christmas holiday.

BY: April Lipscomb 09-18-07 (C)

Imladybug270@aol.com

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Readers Feedback

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Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime Tapestry up and running.

Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller