What Happened to You!

Well I have a house, remodeling work, yard work and lo and behold I have a job! Who would have thunk it could happen.
Networking in the community caused me to be in the right place at the right time. And all others turned the job down. I manage the community Farmers market. Gonna start a new blog about this experience.
But it is stimulating, envigorating, calls on my mixed basket of skills and gives me a reason to get up in the morning. And stay up late at night. I have a new area to research and learn about, which it something that has always served to stimulate and engage me.
I’m not up with the chickens, but handle increasing traffic, getting vendors, advertising, writing news articles, developing strategies and inadvertantly offending all sorts of township board members and various other ‘important’ people.
The difference is I don’t need the job, I don’t want promotion, I don’t want fame, I don’t want rewards, other than pay. Good for me bad for the employer, perhaps.

Recycled Graves ch 6 pg 16

In current day Germany you will be moved out of your grave and the plot resold after 25 years. Australia refers to it as renewable tenure. When the time is up, family members can renew tenure or allow the site to be used to accommodate another coffin; how nicely put. My Mom found this out to her great surprise and dismay on a trip to East Germany in the late 1990’s, after the fall of the Berlin Wall. She went to Neumark to see her good friend Marianne Popp, who she knew from her days in Neumark right after the war. Marianne is also my godmother. The cemetery where her parents and sister, my own grandparents and aunt, are buried is right across the street from Marianne’s house.
For many years my mother sent money for maintenance of the plots and the purchase of flowers for the graves. On this visit, they went to the flower shop where my mother purchases nice bouquets for the graves. My grandmother died in 1972 in West Germany and her cremated body was transported back to the east for burial with her family. So my mother had never personally seen her own mother’s gravesite, but she had previously visited the graves of her father and sister, Liesbeth. It was all just so very cumbersome trying to get into the old East Germany as a capitalist American with travel restrictions and hoorendous visa requirements. And for people who once actually escaped the country, there was always a threat they might not get back out. Wasn’t much easier for West Germans to visit. East Bloc inhabitants were ‘free’ to visit other East Bloc countries, but your vacations were usually done in conjunction with a youth camp, or a workers camp on the sea, so some other structured organizational entity. You didn’t just get in your car and say “Let’s go to the Black Sea for a long weekend!”