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Post#1 » Sat Sep 01, 2007 7:11 am

As I am getting to know you all, bit by bit, I see that although most of us live what others would call quite normal lives on the surface, we have all it seems encountered times when the oddest things happen to us or are witnessed by us.
I rather love these strange abberations, that is unless they are cruel or somesuch. Reminds me of how dear Bilbo Baggins started his adventure. He was just minding his own business and along came Gandalf and then a small crowd of rather eccentric elves. The rest is well.....history, Middle-Earth history.
So I would love to hear from any who would care to share, of strange or odd things that simply came into your life when you were not expecting it.
I will share one to start.
One night my best girl buddy and I decided to take a break, we rarely did. I was teaching dance, contract painting and taking care of a home and my small children. I was worn out and needed a bit of a break. My friend was in the same position plus she had two miserable ill behaved goats and a whippet that drove her to distraction.
All we meant to do was go for a nice little meal. I don't drink as a rule but we had a glass of champagne. Then we lost track of the time and the next thing we knew it was rather late and we needed to get home. But she was famished and so we went to a pizza place to order a pizza. It took FOREVER and then we for some reason could not get a cab and had been waiting too long. So we decided to walk, it was about a mile. We carried the pizza and along the way our feet hurt dreadfully because of improper shoes for walking. So we took t hem off and kept going.
We came to a street wh ere I was to go one way and she another. For some reason she got afraid because while I lived on a well lit uptown type of cul de sac with solid neighbors , she lived down a country road and there was little lighting. She persuaded me to walk her partway and then turn back and hurry home. As we walked and talked and giggled, I thought I saw a glint of something in the ditch ahead. It seemed to me as I strained my eyes that I saw a tall figure and the figure held a knife.
Being the overimaginative type of girls we flipped and started running to the nearest house to get h elp , because it just so happened that someone noted as very dangerous had escaped from the nearest prison a couple of towns or so away. We ran shrieking into some people's backyard and didn't notice the killer dog . We started banging on the door and th en noticed we were probably going to be attacked in the jugular by the dog. Fortunately the door opened and we babbled like crazy people and finally the man understood, dealt with the dog and phoned the police.
Then as we waited we felt silly. We were sure it was our imagination and wished like anything we had not behaved so foolishly. The police came and we explained what we saw and they took it seriously as they said they thought he would probably be in this area and in fact he was armed and dangerous. Then they made us get into the back of the police car . I had never been in one before and felt I would die because there is no way to get back out. I felt totally claustrophic and they took forever to get going. We dropped my friend off first and then I had the humiliation of being driven home. Many of the neighbors, very proper neighbors were standing looking out th eir livingroom windows, aghast as I came out of the back of the police car, holding my shoes and some pizza. I felt so embarrassed and never did explain to t hem that I wasn't in any sort of trouble.
Well it turned out that WAS the fellow and we could have been knifed or worse.
So well that was u nexpected.
How about you?

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Post#2 » Sun Sep 02, 2007 8:54 pm

Leelee, what a close call!! And I can only imagine how you must have felt when you heard there really was a killer in the ditch and it wasn't your imagination!

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Post#3 » Sun Sep 02, 2007 11:04 pm

Nothing like that has ever happened to me, and I often doubt whether or not anything will. That must have been terrifying, hopefully you can look back on it as an amusing event. No one got hurt, and it's in the past. Tat means that no one could have possibly gotten hurt. I have to say, though, that my favorite part was the way that you worded "attacked in the jugular". Creative sentencing is the best!
Because of my lack of excitement, I use my nearly depleted imagination to escape from the doldrom that is my life.
Who cares what your neighbors think about you? If you live in a typical "uptown cul-de-sac" then you probably don't even know their names. Besides, everyone here at planet-tolkien seems to like you alot, and we're the ones that really count. I often wish that someone, perhaps myself, would arrive home in the back of a police car after midnight in my neighborhood. The fascists that "manage" the neighborhood would probably ask the person to leave for being too interesting.
Sorry, I was in a weird mood when I logged on tonight. I'm not a person that should be taken too seriously. Slainte!

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Post#4 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 1:28 pm

Are-edain 37, you are just the sort of person that should write, write, write. You have a great imagination and there are countless pristine pages with nothing written on them just waiting for your pen and your unique thoughts. Oh do write.
You put me in mind of an interview I saw with Agatha Christie's grandson who so loved and misses her still. He said when she was a child she became ill and as she was laying abed she read everything in the house. She asked her mother for more reading material and her mother, it seems was harrassed by a number of duties at once; she told her daughter if she wished to read something new and exciting she must write it herself!
The rest they say, is history.
All of you are so dear to my heart.
What other people have thought exciting in my life h as usually been painful and sad to me or silly and not worth thinking about except to perhaps incorporate some of it into some of the things I write.
I shall share another with you.
I was put in grade one when I was four, the greatest mistake of my life in my opinion. I still sucked my thumb and was very shy and easily frightened of strangers.But I had been given some test and so that was how it was.I was in a British school, very strict and formal, but I liked it well.
I had no real playmates, had a strict nanny and books were my friends. I decided to write, illustrate and put together my very own book. It took days but in the end it was my joy and I was so proud of it. I even sewed with my chubby baby hands the book together. I took it as gift to my teacher and she quietly read it then told me 'we don't use pen and ink until grade three. Go and sit down.'That was it, nothing else and to this day I wish I would have just kept it.
But my passion for books only grew after that. I decided to ask the man who raised me to please take me to the huge library in a far corner of the bustling city. I remember I chose The Emperor who wore no clothes for my very first library book. I was enchanted, thrilled at the hilarity of the story and the fine illustrations.AFter that I asked to go as much as possible.
But one day, I was going with the whole class after school to the library , it was for some lesson we were to learn.The other children were five or six and much much more mature and worldly than me.After we picked our books we were all to line up and then take the bus back to the school and then from there home.
Somehow I got aboard the wrong bus and as it zoomed along the opposite way to my home I became to say the least quite terrified. First because I thought I should never find my home, and second, because the woman who raised me was quite violent at times and I would be in for it for coming home late.
I never thought to tell the driver, but I said a little prayer to God and at some point when we had swung around I simply got off the bus. I looked up and saw a star and I wished on it and began to follow it. It was a fairly mild winter's eve and on and on and on I walked, holding tightly to my book. It seemed I walked for hours and noone stopped a tiny little girl to ask why she was alone in the dark.
And then, wonder of wonders, I started to recognize things and just like that, I was on my little street Elmwood drive. I marched proudly if somewhat stiffly from the cold to my house. The lady was very busy with some Christmas thing or other and never noticed I was late. Dinner thankfully was very late and I sat down with the others and never told anyone about my adventure.
It still rather alarms me when I think back to it.

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Post#5 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 2:59 pm

Leelee, when you first started this thread, I thought, "If I write anything, no one will be able to shut me up!" But that last escapade of yours has reminded me of a school story of mine from the misty regions of my elementary days. So here goes...

I was in third grade. We had just moved to NY state from NJ, and everything was strange to me. It wasn't strange to my parents--at least, not entirely--since they were both originally from NY, just further north. The school was a small rural affair, part of a larger district, but still holding on to a homey atmosphere. It only went up to grade 5, and then the students were sent elsewhere in the district. I had entered school late in the fall, and found myself with the dubious delight of having the very same teacher who had taught my mother! It didn't help that I got her name wrong a bunch of times, or that when she asked me a question about Mom I didn't hear her right.

Then we started in with the arithmetic. I have never been that big on math, but I don't know if it was a comprehension problem or a memory problem at that level. After some time of turning in unsatisfactory work--or perhaps not doing my work because I didn't understand it--the teacher decided to keep me after school in order to work on problems with me.

Well, that's when the adventure began. Some of the brattier boys in the class told me "Kid, you're in for it now. She will beat the snot out of you after school." I was terrified of what might happen to me. I remember all the other kids had gone, and the teacher gave me instructions on what she was going to do. Then she left the room--probably needed a break, since there were no aides/paras in those days. So while she was out, I picked up my things and sneaked out of the building. I had no idea how to get home by a direct route, so I just reversed the morning bus route and hoped no one would send the police for me. I can just imagine what was going through the poor woman's mind when she found me gone! But this was a rural area, back when kids could walk for miles and not meet anyone, and certainly not come to any harm. After about an hour, my uncle pulled up next to me and told me to get in. He said something snide like "You're in the hot seat now."

And it didn't get me away from the teacher either. The next day, she humiliated me in class by telling me that I would have to stay after for a week as a punishment. Ah, the days before people worried about psychological scarring (ha)! But I found out she wouldn't beat me after school. She worked on the blackboard with me and showed me where I was going wrong in math. So I finally understood what that was all about. And then she asked me why I had run away. I told her what the boys had said about her. I think she was floored. She said something like, "Well, you don't have to stay after any more, now that you know how to work these problems." And she and I got along a bit better after that.

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Post#6 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 6:05 pm

Ah what a beautiful story. That brought tears to my eyes, teachers that are firm but actually help you out of the hard spots are worth their weight in gold. I can totally relate to your fear and leaving like that.I would never have had the courage but in my heart I would run, run run.
In middle school we in the honors class had a certain teacher for two years and she was brutal.She was not like your teacher. She berated us daily, called up limp wristed vegetables, and was forever giving us more and more assignments to 'teach us a lesson.'The worst of it was that she wore these athletic shoes that made absolutely no sound and when she left the class for whatever reasons(she had a drinking problem poor thing) she would come sneaking back and if anyone was so much as turned sideways because of a back problem we all got in trouble. All of us.
One time she came storming into the room shrieking that someone from our class had snuck a drink into the library during class and left the soda bottle on the very top of a shelf and it came crashing down on her head.She was a very large woman and could very well have bumped into the shelf. She said that noone, absolutely noone would escape a week or whatever time of afterschool detentions.A frightened murmur went up because many of us had after school jobs or siblings to care for after school and had to get straight home. The room remained silent, to this day I don't believe anyone from our class did that, none of us broke rules, it was who we were. The schoolbell went and still we sat. Finally I could not bear it anylonger. I put my h and up and confessed to the shock of the class. I had to go before school every morning and help in the library and then write out zillions of lines. I never told her that I was innocent and always she would bring that up.
She had a rule that said once the lunch bell went noone was allowed to either stay in the classroom or come back until the next bell rang to begin class. It was winter and my best friend and I were tired for some reason and left the room without our shoes, we had taken them off because they scuffed the floor.In terror we snuck back in and grabbed them and were about to leave when we heard h er voice coming up the hall. We dashed into the supply cupboard and hid terrified under the bottom shelf.She came in and did whatever and before leaving she noticed the cupboard was unlocked, I don't remember why it was. She locked it and my friend and I were hysterical with claustrophobia and so hungry. After lunch another class came and there was a different teacher. We had thought it would be her once more but it wasn't. The cupboard was opened and we scrambled out and left the room with an astonished teacher staring at us and the students laughing.
Worse, the next year my piano teacher quit teaching and I got my dreaded teacher for my musica instructor. What a year? I think I lost weight constantly just from the stress of thinking about school and lessons. But I survived it and went on to like her as I got older and saw her troubles more clearly.

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Post#7 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 6:08 pm

When I was in the second grade, over one mid-October weekend in we moved from the city to my father's hometown and into my grandfather's empty house. My mother walked me to my new school that first Monday morning and it seems I hadn't paid enough attention to the route, for when school was let out I got lost. I walked down the correct street, to the Great Northern's double mainline railroad tracks, and as instructed, I looked both ways to ensure there weren't any trains coming—the crossing signals had yet to be installed back then—and I walked across the tracks and on down the hill straight past City Hall and on into and through a residential area which turned out to have no familiar landmarks. When I reached the edge of town I back tracked a couple times and became tearfully stymied; I was lost.

Finally a Catholic priest came along and seeing my state, he asked who I was and what was the problem. After I told him, he said he had known my grandfather and actually lived in my neighborhood. He then walked me home, showing me that had I turned right at City Hall all would have been well, as my home was just another five blocks down and one block over from there.

I believe it was after this incident that I became a map person.
'Share and enjoy'

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Post#8 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 6:42 pm

Leelee, I'm glad you liked that story from my youth. That was a LONG time ago! Well, not as long ago as when my dad went to a one-room schoolhouse. Yes, it was the kind that has only one room, though I guess they must have had a bathroom, too. It was literally on the border with Canada, and the kids used to say "I'm going to Canada" and walk a few yards to pick apples during lunch hour. Alas, by the time we visited the site, all that remained was the foundations.

But somehow, I made it into fourth grade in that school of mine. That year was the first male teacher I'd ever had. He was mean if I didn't have my homework done. And that year I didn't have it done most of the time. I don't know how I passed, but somehow I did. The next year was the one year my parents sent us to Catholic school. We couldn't afford the tuition, so that didn't last. Then we returned to the public school, and I found the dreaded teacher was gone. In his place was a nice lady who explained to me and others in the class that we were only hurting ourselves by not doing our homework. It dawned on me that I couldn't be in school forever, so I had better make it a good memory. From that time on, I worked as I was supposed to.

That was the year the school burnt down. Yeah, we got the answer to the prayer everyone else prayed. We had to wait at the corner for the bus each morning. One morning in spring, after the snows were gone, we waited for a long time, and still no bus came. I sent my brother home to find out if my parents could call the school and see what was up. He came running back down the road yelling, "The school burnt down!" "Yeah, right," was our sarcastic response. But no bus came, till finally we all walked home and found it was true. The next day, we were bused to one of the other elementary schools of the district. I made lots of new friends, which was good since sixth grade was going to be that way too.

I could go on--but as I said, if I do, you'll never shut me up!


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Fionwë Urion
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Post#9 » Mon Sep 03, 2007 9:01 pm

Well, I'm gald to say that I haven't had any of the type of experiences that you guys have, yet. Though I'm probably twenty years younger than the youngest of you three anyways, which is most likely LeeLee.

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laurelindhe ilmarin
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Post#10 » Tue Sep 04, 2007 1:36 pm

Okay, here goes. When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I had a friend named Aurelia. She was really an unusual person-she looked and acted like no one else in school and I think that's why I was drawn to her. She was really kind, but also tough as nails and didn't put up with anything out of line. I really admired that because I was pretty shy and afraid to express my own opinions or emotions. Anyway, she got diagnosed with leukemia that year and the doctors didn't hold out much hope for her. They began treating her in all of the nasty ways that they have to do and after a few months, she didn't show any progress in healing. Her parents even began making preparations for her funeral and the like. I distinctly remember her talking about the whole thing so casually, telling our little group of friends that she wanted certain songs played and that she didn't want certain people there. She was so courageous. Then, the strangest possible thing happened-she went to the doctor's to see how her treatment was helping-and poof! Seriously, I am not exaggerating at all-her leukemia was just completely gone. She showed no traces of even having had it, except the residual effects of the chemo and her loss of hair. She was totally healthy from that day on. I swear, I have never believed in miracles more. Aurelia and I lost contact, not that long after we left school, but I will NEVER forget that year, what she went through, or how amazingly her body just repaired itself. Seriously miraculous.

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