Memory - Bio

Eeks.... I sincerely apologize for being so far behind. I've been insanely sick and hope to get caught up as soon as I feel like I'm back amongst the living.

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"You have to be a real adult when you turn 25."

That was something my dad always said when we were growing up. My dad always seemed to have a great balance between responsibility and fun. Most years we had a "nothing practical allowed" rule at Christmas yet he was strict. Just the right amount. I think his saying about only having to grow up at 25 was a perfect example of his idea of balance. I realize now that he was trying to instill in us that there is, of course, a time to mature and go out into the world with a sense of responsibility while still not skipping past the frivolity that young adulthood has to offer.

When I was 25, I had a 4 year old child, was divorced already, was 4 years into a successful career and had already had the wind knocked out of me by some of the things I only thought happened on tv. Responsibility was something I already knew well. Yet, somehow that was the first year in a long time that I answered my mom's ridiculous "So do you feel any older?" birthday question with a resounding "Yes!"

Later that year, my grandfather passed very suddenly. Grandpa Hakes was the one that took us to the apple orchard every year and talked them into letting us pick Spys early because we liked them extra sour. He taught me how to drive a tractor, how to shoot a gun, how to catch a mouse with only a plastic spoon, peanut butter and a bucket and how to make homemade noodles. Until the day he died he still called me "Runt" and still had room for me on his lap.

I could go on and on about the sorrow and loss that I felt when he died, but it was a sudden missle to the soul that really was life-changing for me at the time. It was March, and very cold outside. We were at Grandma and Grandpa's house, congregating as people do after a death of a loved one. We were sitting in the living room as dusk fell, 6 of us crammed onto the sofa and two chairs, leaving Grandpa's big recliner eerily empty. The smell of a church-delivered casserole was drifting in from the kitchen.

Grandma was in the bedroom when we heard the closet door slide open. We knew she was picking out the suit for Grandpa to be buried in. I was 25 years old and had never once known Grandma to cry. The sound that escaped from her bedroom that day was the exact sound that I know a heart makes when that final cut that never heals slices through.

It was at that very moment, the first time I heard my grandma cry, that I felt the palpable, life-changing transition of the generations.

I looked around. I saw the hearth of the fireplace where my sister and I used to stand to take orders from the family to serve fake "hamburgers" made out of tin coasters. I saw the couch that my grandma always called a davenport. It was the couch I camped out on for three days when I had my wisdom teeth removed. It was the couch I sat on when Grandpa and I worked on countless puzzles. I saw that big recliner that I used to climb into Grandpa's lamp in. Then I saw the kids. Our kids, mine and my sister's. OUR kids were standing on the hearth. My niece Erica was bringing coasters around asking us all if a piece of "cake" would help us feel better. All of a sudden I realized that I was at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but I wasn't one of the "kids" anymore.

This was a defining moment in my life. A different kind of maturity set in. I have always said that I wanted to be just like my grandma when I grew up and now I saw her in a different light that only reaffirmed that desire. It was at that moment that I learned to embrace growing up and growing older. Since that day, my relationship with my grandma has brought so many things to light for me. I've watched her blossom in a way that, due to the traditional, defined roles of that generation's marriages, she never could have with Grandpa. She now speaks up about politics and doesn't bite her tongue, yet is still always the classiest lady in the room. She's 80 years old now and still takes classes... just because she's interested in the subject. She has a part-time job, just for the enjoyment. And she prints out jokes for us to pass around and read out-loud at holiday dinners.

I've seen a lot of similarities between the transitions in her life and those in mine. I, too, have had to learn how to take care of a house by myself because I hate asking for help. I've had to learn my identity outside of being a wife. I've really learned to think for myself and have experienced how truly rewarding it is to learn new things with an open mind. I did plenty of growing up as a youth. But that day, in my grandma's living room, was when I started truly growing.

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Who I am today:

Girl next door. Self-proclaimed nerd. Crazy insomniac.

I'm in my young 30's with a tween-aged daughter who helps keep me humble by never quite letting me feel fully sane. My family is comprised of all sorts of dysfunction, yet somehow we're still close.

For work, I'm an insurance geek. I handle auto liability for losses that occur in Indiana. I have all sorts of letters behind my name that only mean something in the insurance world and I'm working on the big ones. CPCU is sort of the holy grail of insurance designations; I'm on the 5th of 8 courses in the program. A huge thing that occupies my work life is co-chairing our largest employee resource group for the state of Michigan.

Outside of work, I rarely sleep, but have lots to keep me occupied. I'm insanely domestic and have been working on decorating my big huge house that I bought in December. I love to bake and experiment with that a lot. I'm kind of a lit freak, so I read whenever I get a chance. I write poetry and have just now joined this really cool writing group. It's called "Write Monkey, Write." Maybe you've heard of it???

Someone close to me told me recently that I "live life in gulps, not sips." I like to think that will never change, even when I'm the 80 year-old grandma.

New assignment

Hey gang~ Looks like everyone did a lot of writing this weekend. I've got some catching up to do on reading!

For this week's assignment, I'm going to combine it with writing a bit of a bio of ourselves. The assignment is to write, in the first person, a real memory or experience you've had (from any time in your life) that had a hand in shaping the person you are now. This can be long, short, happy, sad, monumental, minor, etc... anything you want. Then, tie that in to a short (2-4 paragraphs) bio about who you are now. Include anything you'd like to share with someone visiting the blog. It can include all of the major areas of your life (work, family, relationships) or only one. That part is open-ended and up to you.

First person - non-fiction - any format - tie the two together.

Write monkey, write!

Smoking Monkey

Yikes... I didn't realize I'd be nervous posting this for review. I realize I -WAY- over-simplified the "problem" in the plot, so maybe give me a little leeway there... I felt like I could have written pages and pages and it would have been too long. Be honest... be brutal... Here goes...
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"This better be important, Andres was just about to get into the "full body" part of the massage," I growled into the phone. Why were all of my good dreams interrupted at the best parts? Whoever was calling was going to face my wrath.

"Kasie, you’ve got to get in here." It was Sara. I know she knows how to tell time.

I glanced over at the clock. "It’s not even 4:00am. Is the building burning down?"

"No"

"Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Today’s my day off and I have an amazing dream to get back to." I ungratiously hung up the phone and rolled back over onto my tummy, giving Andres easy access to continue down my spine and beyond. I had just dozed off again when the blaring ring jolted my head off the pillow.

"What the HELL?" Now I was mad.

"I’m sorry, I know it’s early and today’s your day off, but Carter said he's brought in the big one." There was a long pause as I tried to put things together in my sleepy mind. Sara sounded out of breath. "Kasie? Are you there? Kasie!!!"

"I’m here. What do you mean ‘the big one’?"

"The evidence. Carter says we’ve got it. We’ve got them!!! We just need to put it together and fast. He said they’re moving the date up. We’ve only got a week!"

I wiped my eyes and blinked hard. "I’m on my way. I’ll bring coffee."

So much for a day on the beach. I haven’t taken a day off in months that didn’t involve some patience-testing gathering of my insane family. The highlight of last weekend’s pot roast dinner involved the competing misery stories. What was worse, Uncle Earl’s bunions or Dad’s rash? All I wanted today was to feel the ocean breeze tangling my long hair while I sat lazily burning to a crisp under the hot sun. Now this. I was starting to wonder why I even bothered paying the astronomical rent for a place on the beach if I never got to enjoy it.

I threw my hair into a ponytail and grimaced at the reflection in the mirror. The sun was hours from showing it’s face on the horizon, so I figured I could get away with only a quick dab of lip gloss before heading into the crisp morning. The beachfront kiosks looked gloomy this early. There were no shiny trinkets displayed or racks of colorful souvenir t-shirts set out to lure tourists. When I moved to Virginia Beach 3 years ago, the vendors, with their obnoxious sales pitches and cookie-cutter souvenirs, drove me insane. Now somehow the beach felt deserted and lonely without them. And without the sunshine casting a lively glow on the beach, even the ocean, with it’s billions of life-forms, seemed to be missing something.

I was feeling rather sullen as I approached the Java Hut, until I saw Samy of course. I still wonder if I could bottle this kid’s energy. I’m sure I’d be a gajillionaire if I could. "Samy, are you really singing this early? It’s not even human to be this peppy this early." I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. He had moved here last year from Argentina to go to school and worked ungodly hours while going to school full-time. Maybe it was a constant caffeine rush from the coffee, but somehow his energy was always contagious.

Samy stopped drumming on the counter as I approached. His dark brown eyes widened with a big smile. "How can you not sing along with the B-52’s? Yesterday this was Java Hut... today it’s the love shack, Baby! How’s my favorite super-spy this fine morning?" He had stopped trying to cover his accent with me months ago, but this time he emphasized it for comedic effect while raising his eyebrows Groucho Marx style. I laughed out loud.

"I’ve told you a million times, I’m not a spy." He knew, of course, but loved jabbing me about not being able to divulge information about my job. I ducked in close to him and looked around as if making sure no one would overhear my whisper, "Shhhh if they hear you, I’ll have to kill you. And you make the best coffee on the beach; I’d really be sad if I had to whack ya." I winked and he giggled. If only he were about 10 years older I wouldn’t feel so creeped out by noticing how delicious he always smelled.

A few blocks later, I descended the steps to the basement of The Lazy Day. I entered the first door and stepped into the dark entrance. I artfully balanced 2 coffees and a small box of apple cinnamon muffins in one hand while placing my other palm on the security reader. "State your name," the electronic voice instructed.

"Kasie Spencer," I replied into the small black box that stood as the only barrier between the outside world and years of research.

"Voiceprint confirmed," retorted the same electronic voice. The door clicked and I had 5 seconds to get in and reclose the door before the system would lock me out and make me re-start the process. Once inside, I wasted no time grabbing my lab coat from my office and scalding my tongue on the hot coffee.

"Okay Sara," I called out without looking up. "I'm here, where's the vial that's so amazing I had to drag my butt out of bed at 4:00am on my day off?" No answer. "Sara, where are you?" I called out louder this time, with my finger on the intercom button. I didn't bother to disguise my irritation.

"Back here, Kas, in the holding room," Sara's voice came from the intercom on my desk.

The holding room was a hidden room behind the lab area, soundproof and separated from the rest of the building by a 4-inch thick steel door. Technically, our entire research lab was hidden, and to the outside world appeared to be just the dingy basement of one of dozens of local watering holes. The work we did here was not exactly what some important people in D.C. would want done. Most of my neighbors thought, after seeing me come and go from the basement, that I was a dishwasher at The Lazy Day. A few people asked how I could afford the beachfront condo on a dishwasher's salary. I always smiled politely and just said "Daddy" and they went on their merry way. It wasn't true, of course, but nosy people rarely care much about what they're nosy about, unless it's really juicy.

I took another, this time more timid, sip from my coffee, grabbed a muffin and headed for the holding room. "I thought you might be hungr-" I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of a cage sitting on the counter. Inside the cage was an animal of some sort. It's back was to me, so all I could see was a ball of brown fur, but I could smell it instantly and took a step back. I never quite learned to appreciate animals or their foul odors. I can only assume I had a traumatic animal experience in a past life. "What the hell is this thing doing here?!?"

"I brought it. It's what we've been looking for." Carter was a full head taller than me and exuded a confidence that made most people shrink in his presence as they stopped and listened. I helped Carter pass love notes to snotty little Suzie Wainwright in 2nd grade and helped him beat up Johnny Taylor after he stole Carter's lunch money. I was probably the one person that he couldn't intimidate and I sure as heck wasn't going to let him mess up my lab with a stinky animal.

Seeing that my last nerve was exposed, he dropped a friendly kiss on my forehead and looked down at me condescendingly. I hate that look, but couldn't help but smile back at my good friend. "Calm down and hear me out. We've been testing the wrong stuff all along. Murphy is the key."

"I can only assume Murphy is this creature that's obviously never had a bath?" Why did animals always have such ridiculous names? That was just one more thing that irritated me about them. "You have about 10 seconds before I turn around and go back to bed. I mean it, Carter, I'll take the muffins and coffee with me and tell Samy to spit in it if you order another. He's sweet on me, you know he'll do it." He knew I was joking, but losing patience quickly. That horrible smell was making me sick and my face showed disgust.

"Christ, Kasie, chill out. Let's go into the lab; he's not going anywhere." Back in the lab, I picked at one of the muffins and calmed down a bit. Getting away from the smell of that animal, whatever it was, helped. And I was starting to wake up.

"We've known from day one that they were producing something dangerous. That's why we started this facility. That's why I stayed on the inside, so that we had access to their tests at every level." Carter was fidgety as he spoke.

I interruped him. "I know, and we haven't found anything yet that we can prove. And what's this about implementing in one week?"

"One week, maybe two, tops. But it won't matter. Hear me out." I could see the seriousness on his face. I sat back and nodded, letting him know that he had my full attention now. "We've run thousands of tests in the last few years. I can say with absolute certainty that we have tested every single formula they've tested. We've taken each one and checked for everything under the sun. Every damn time it's come up clean. All-natural, no side effects, just like they say. But it just doesn't make sense. Why would we put so many resources into creating this miracle vitamin for groups of people we've never given a rat's ass about before?"

Sara spoke up. "We all know that's not the case, but unless we can figure out what they're really creating, we can't prove that what they're doing is wrong."

"That's the best part." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a 3-inch high stack of papers. "My snitch came through; it's all here. Names, signatures, work orders, everything. Apparently these villages are sitting on a mine that contain a mineral that hadn't been discovered until about 5 years ago. According to these documents, they found that it's an almost pure-burning, clean fuel. The best part this stuff can actually be reproduced, but only with supply of the raw mineral."

"So if we've got control of the only known supply..." The light bulb was starting to go off now.

"Exactly. If we've got control of the only supply, we've got sole control of this fuel forever. Or until it's found somewhere else." Carter looked like he was going to pee his pants. His eyes were wide and his hand movements were huge while he rocked and moved around in his chair. "I've got proof in this file, it's all been scanned and backed up, of course. Before the end of next week, we're sending a 'humanitarian team' to distribute these vitamin packs, promising relief from and vaccination from the Malaria that's ravaging their country."

Sara stood up, clearly horrified. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes. We rush in to be the hero, pass out some food and water, knowing full well they're still going to die, thanks to our special formula vitamins. The population that manages to survive will be weak, and we'll take control."

"Jesus, Carter!" My mind was racing in a thousand directions. I started to pace. "What the f--k can we do in a week? We haven't been able to find a damn thing in any of the samples! You said we've 'got it' and you brought a goddamn animal. What is that thing, anyway?"

"We've only tested the samples in lab environments. But we were missing the key. The formula tests clean, all right. But only when tested on it's own. Mix it with a certain enzyme found in most mammal's blood and it's an entirely different story. That's the key... when it enters the bloodstream, it kills the white blood cells within days. We were thinking this was an environmental thing. But it's a HUMAN thing. At least it's going to be. You should see the tests they've been doing on the animals. It makes me sick. That's why I brought Murphy. He's one of the chimps they gave the final test formula to."

"So you rescued him? It hardly seems like rescuing one of of hundreds is going to make a difference for what we're looking at here." As I talked, I was snapping on latex gloves and grabbing supplies. Sara stared in horrified silence. I thought I saw a tear creeping slowly down her cheek.

Carter started walking toward the holding room. "I brought Murphy because he's still alive. He was just given the final formula yesterday. His blood and tissue samples will be the proof that we need. Hey Murph," he called to the cage, "turn around."

I couldn't help but giggle. What a funny looking little thing. "Is he smoking???" Sara still just stared, clearly not knowing what to think.

"Well, he thinks so." Carter chuckled now, too. "They were playing an old Clint Eastwood movie in the lab last week and he kept stealing Simon's cigs from the table and imitating good ol' Clint. He doesn't know I've been switching them out for those all-natural fakes."

"That's what that smell was!" I looked at Murphy and felt guilty. He looked at me as if he knew I hadn't been nice. "I'm sorry, Fella. Will you forgive me?" I gave my best smile and put my hands together, pleading style. He gave me a thumbs-up and one of those cheesy monkey smiles you see on children's posters. The "cigarette" never left his lips. Carter and Sara and I all cracked up.
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"Right through here, we've got everything you need." Carter led the clean-cut, well dressed man through the lab and into the holding room. Carter loaded a large box from the refrigerator onto a wheeled cart and placed a locked briefcase on top of the box. "All of the samples, results, documents, everything. It's all here. You know what to do with it."

The man never introduced himself and Sara and I knew better than to ask. He's the one Carter calls his "top guy" and assures us it's better if we don't know who he is. He paused at the table with the empty cage. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the cage.

I winked at Murphy and reached out to lure him from behind the file cabinet. "He didn't like it in there." I held hands with my new furry friend.

The man nodded, completely expressionless. He said, "One last thing. This is going to be beyond huge. Heads are going to roll, possibly literally. To whom should I give credit?" He always asked the same question, as if it were scripted, when he picked up our results.

I spoke up first and recited our part of the script. "We're not sure what you mean, Sir. We're just the dishwashers here, but upstairs we have a great club sandwich."

They left the door to the holding room open as Carter walked the man toward the door. "I knew you'd be able to do it," I overheard the man say to Carter. "Tell everyone to take a week off. They'll need it. I'll come by a week from Tuesday with the details for the next one." I was glad Carter had friends in the right places. And I was especially glad for the week off.

I couldn't hide my smile as I walked barefoot down the beach, hand in hand, with Murphy. I knew he wouldn't be with me very long, so he might as well enjoy what he could. "Samy, I'll have a tall latte and my boyfriend here will have a triple fudge mocha with as much whipped cream as you can muster."

Samy leaned over the counter to look at Murphy. "I wondered why I couldn't win your heart. You must like 'em hairy." Samy held out the top collar on his shirt, looking down at his chest. He shook his head with an expression of mock disgust. I nodded with a playful smile. "So, what did your friend here do to deserve the triple fudge?" Samy asked. "You only order that when you're celebrating."

"Let's just say he saved the world. Or at least one small corner of it."

5/14 - my first real post...

I was born. I grew. I loved. I cried. I lived. Now I'm done.

I waited at the door with my gun. I knew he'd come back. Bang.

Her touch was velvet. Her breath gave him life. He now knew his purpose.

He gave the order and the world changed forever. Life is too easily destroyed.

Is that him... wearing a pink turtleneck for our date? Slam... click... duck... shhhhhhh........