Coming Home

Last week I had the opportunity to travel back to my home town of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. It always gives me pause returning, as so many memories come flooding back whenever I am there. What I find interesting; it is not just memories of my being a little girl growing up in this lovely little town but also my more recent memories, the reconnecting with friends again. I have not lived in this town for over 40 years and have barely returned except for high school reunions. Something happened in 2009 when I returned for my 40th reunion, something wonderful. I felt a sense of belonging, a sense of a closeness that only people that are the same age and grow up in the same town can experience. It is a rare experience to find such camaraderie.

I arrived on Sunday, September 11th, such a somber day. There were my friends, Bill and Dave waiting to take me out to dinner and help me get my books ready for the next day's upcoming events.

I returned to speak to the entire student body of Cuyahoga Falls High School. This would not have happened if it weren't for the persistence of my high-school friend, Bill. He made it happen.

He asked me what he could do to help and he didn't rest until he got the speaking engagement for me.

Three of my class of 1969 friends also came to hear me speak,Jerry, on the right, (who filmed the entire speech), Dave (my neighbor from a long time ago) and Bill (the organizer of my event!). I spoke about my experiences in New York at Ground Zero after 9/11 and encouraged and challenged the students to think not just about themselves but to also think about helping others, The message came through loud and clear and I had many students stop by after to talk to me and ask questions. Several purchased my book, First Aid For Heroes.

My high-school friend, Monica, suggested that I have a book signing at a local bookstore in Hudson, Ohio. After many phone calls we finally got it to happen and that very evening after my speaking engagement I held a book signing at The Learned Owl. My friends descended on the store and some of them titled themselves the "flashmob."

There was laughter and a strong sense of support. I will never forget my "cheerleaders" being there for me and making me feel as if I were a celebrity!

Flight 93

Yesterday as I drove back to Northern Virginia from a speaking and book signing event in my home town of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, I decided to take a detour. Actually I decided to take that detour several days before, September 11th to be exact. I decided that I could not drive past this area without stopping, I was drawn to it as if it was out of my control, as if auto-pilot had taken hold of my car.


The area around Shanksville, Pennsylvania is filled with rolling hills, farms, roadside stands, just the inordinate beauty of our back country USA. Signs were posted everywhere guiding me to the Flight 93 Memorial. Pride for our country was everywhere with the flying of the American flags, to signs sharing our country's sentiment "We will never forget."

I made the turn to the Memorial and kept driving and driving down a curvy newly made road. I knew I was in the right location, I just didn't know how far I had to drive. I kept going and going, but the more I drove, the more I understood. This was an area far removed from main roads (until ten years ago). The only way to observe the site, was to build a better road.


I exited my car, after pulling into a gravel parking lot and walked towards three signs. There were a few people there. I thought that was a bit odd, where was everyone. Didn't people come to pay their respects? I later found out that this was an entrance to view the area from above the crash site, this was the area the plane flew over prior to crashing. I continued on my journey in my car to the memorial area, just a short 1/2 mile or so to the area below.

Where was the site? I couldn't see anything that would identify it. Then I heard why. A few years ago they filled in the crash site and planted wild flowers. And then I saw it.. just peaceful flowers with the large evergreen trees framing the top of the area. They have moved a boulder to the exact area where the crash occured and family (I assume) left flowers and flags surrounding it. We were not allowed to walk on those hallowed grounds, but observe from a distance. I wish I had a better camera with me, as I only have pictures from my cell phone, but it can give you the sense of what it was like.

What I felt was peace and a palpable feeling of calmness which seemed to fill the entire area. There was a slight breeze with the smell of fresh wildflowers permeating the air. I felt sadness, how could one not? But mostly I felt an inner peace. This was a place to go and reflect, to go and remember what courage took place on Flight 93, September 11, 2001. The courage of the flight 93 heroes and their fight with the terrorists to protect our country.

I continued my walk, in the direction of the flight path and came to the names carved in marble. The designer built the wall so as you looked down the length of it you would be observing the flight path. The hill to the right was the hill that the plane flew over. The opposite end is where the crash site is located. The white marble wall was magnificent. I had to look for Todd Beamer's name. His last audible words were "Are you guys ready? Let's roll". You can find out more information about this hero by checking out his Wikipedia page Todd Beamer.

This past Monday, September 12th, after I spoke to the entire student body of Cuyahoga Falls High School about my 9/11 experiences and my book , a group of students took a few minutes to talk to us about the Flight 93 fund. This group is encouraging students to just donate 93 cents. Eventually, it will make a difference. Check out the article that was written about them: Falls High students laud courage of Flight 93 with donations


In closing, I will add several more pictures that I took that day outside of Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

What is a Hero?

I wrote this while working in New York at Ground Zero after September 11, 2001


What is a Hero?

This is a question that has been going through my mind ever since I arrived here in New York. My friends email me and say ‘You are my hero’. I read it and laugh… I am no hero. I am a Red Cross Disaster Relief Nurse that is taking care of people, sometimes just Band-Aids, sometimes just cold medicine, sometimes just talking. It is a very small part in a much larger picture. It is insignificant. My real heroes are those that have died such a terrible death, the ones trapped inside the World Trade Towers, the victims in the airplanes that were hijacked, the victims at the Pentagon, the families, trying to cope with such a loss, the city of New York and their wonderful people that are trying to cope, the city of Washington DC and their wonderful people that are trying to cope, those that are working after their duty hours at their regular jobs to come to volunteer, those firemen, iron and steel workers, policemen, OSHA, FEMA, National Guard, truck drivers, crane operators, bulldozer operators, and the list goes on and on. They are exhausted, they are sick, they are overwhelmed, but yet they are out there day in and day out trying to make sense of such a terrible tragedy.

Every day working is different and I find new heroes creeping into my life. We are all part of a circle… without one of us, the circle doesn’t seem to be complete. My part may feel insignificant, but when it is put together with all of the parts, it becomes very significant. My fellow Red Cross workers, all doing different jobs to create that bond.

I meet several heroes every day. The other day, a Red Cross volunteer touched my heart. He was working in the Trade Towers on the 54th floor when the planes hit. He got out of the building in time and now does not want to leave the area. He feels he needs to help in any way he can. He calls it his ‘penance’. He serves food in the kitchen for the workers.

The smell is back

I have been frantically gathering information for my upcoming speaking engagement next Monday in Ohio. I pulled out three large white boxes and a large blue plastic bin, the one that housed my Red Cross Disaster Services aprons, my respirator, and my hard hats from 9/11. As soon as the lid was cracked open, the pungent odor was released into the air and slammed into my nostrils. I paused, Really? Could I really still be smelling the smells of 9/11? I kept thinking it was impossible. This has to be all in my head, how could this smell still be recalled so quickly? Is it because of the ten year anniversary and all of the media blitz? I don't know, but it has permeated my olfactory senses today and has no desire to go back in the bin.

Identity: Am I Defined by my Spouse’s Illnesses?

We go through life trying to define who we are, constantly tweaking and perfecting to make ourselves a better person. But what happens when those parameters become altered? What happens when life throws you that curve ball, when the unthinkable situation knocks on the door?

I had a leisurely breakfast today with a friend and as usual the subjects we discussed just floated freely. There is never a lull in our conversation! So many times we have gotten together to catch up and have surprised ourselves on how many twists and turns the conversations will take. Today’s was no different but it kept focusing on Identity, better yet, how does one keep their identity when they are a caregiver? This became our major topic and one we discussed for two plus hours. Nothing was solved in those two hours but it gave me many thoughts to ponder.

I have strived to become someone that I am proud of and someone that I hope is growing and changing daily. When my husband’s diagnosis came in, life just seemed to stop, nothing seemed real and the future seemed so bleak. It all was so unfair and the thought of moving on seemed unbearable and unthinkable. We were both lost in our grief. How does one move on when their whole world is collapsing around them? My husband, my friend received a terrible diagnosis and I found that it seemed easier for me to totally focus on him and only him, just letting the rest of life pass me by. Days, weeks and months transpired and eventually we both began to cope, some days being more difficult than others, for sure. Thankfully life is resilient and the possibility for growth began to reappear. Believe me, this is not an easy process.

Now I wonder, how do I hold on to my own identity? Who makes me the person that I am and want to be? No one can do it for me; I have to be the one to fight for MY own survival. I have to be ready to accept that and be willing to move on and stay focused. I will survive this and I will come out a stronger person because of it. I didn’t ask for this to happen but I need to learn from this situation and grow.

“Significant changes in life can push you to begin to lose your identity. Loneliness, disconnectedness, depression, and a loss of self may begin to work on your psyche. During this time it is imperative for you to grasp at opportunities to maintain your identity and ward off the isolation that you can feel when life has completely changed,” states Corine Fiore in her blog: http://parentingsquad.com/how-to-maintain-your-identity-when-everything-has-changed. Her blog, on parenting, surely applies to any type of change we may be dealing with.

After a few months of floundering and feeling sorry for myself I realized I just couldn’t keep that up. I wasn’t being fair to my husband, my family, my friends and it surely I wasn’t being fair to me! I searched for a support group, one that would understand my situation.

Where is the happy medium in keeping me as a functioning supportive individual? What must I do to not lose myself completely in his illnesses? This fight to maintain ME must be established now, before I get lost in the overwhelmingness of it all.

Many people I know seem to take on their loved one’s illness and have it encompass their own life so completely. It is as if their lives have been forced to change with the current diagnosis. Am I now defined by the illness of my spouse? “Oh that’s Jane; her husband has Parkinson’s and Lymphoma.” Has this now become my existence? Is it time that I put my life on hold and start learning everything I can about these senseless diseases? Is it time for me to start marching for the causes? Is it time for me to attend every meeting and every support group? Is it time for me to give up on me? It may sound heartless; but I am just trying to figure it out this new role. Does my identity have to change because of his illnesses? It might be easy for me to say this because at this moment Gary is not incapacitated with his illnesses. He continues to work full time and maintain a productive life. The question is; will I have to change who I am when the Parkinson’s gets worse or the cancer returns?

Finding a good support group and or a good friend that is going through similar circumstances can really help in maintaining one's focus. Working, whether it is at home or in an office, just doing something for me; church, book clubs, therapists, exercise…the list could go on and on. There are many avenues that I can draw on to ensure I stay focused on keeping my identity and staying strong through difficult times.

I will continue to be supportive and choosing to be knowledgeable of all that comes our way. I am willingly standing by his side for his medical appointments and treatments. I am cherishing and celebrating his victories and will cry with him with his relapses occur. I am his cheerleader, his friend and his confidant. I chose to do for him and for myself, and not because it has become my role.

I choose to look towards the future with my eyes wide open knowing that life could change in a moment's notice. I choose to be prepared and in doing so, know that I am an individual who needs have a life of quality and a life that may be with or without my spouse. In keeping my identity I must maintain a productive life. The question is; will I have to change who I am when the Parkinson’s gets worse or the cancer returns, or will I have established a plan that will work on seeing me through those difficult times?

To sleep or not to sleep

Damn Parkinson's Disease!!!!! I HATE it, I hate every single thing about it! It is so insidious and tries to reel it's ugly head to put a distance between Gary and me. It's not going to work, but it surely wants to try!

The newest one, though really not so new at all, as it has been going on for years, is MY lack of sleep. Now you may ask, why would Parkinson's, that my husband has, have anything to do with that, my lack of sleep? For those of you who are dealing with Parkinson's issues, this is something many of you know all too well. We all know it, but no one wants to talk about it. So here goes.

REM sleep disorder. It sounds fairly benign, but unfortunately it is not. Here is what Pubmed states:

Abstract

"Rapid eye movement (REM) sleep behavior disorder (RBD) is a parasomnia manifested by vivid, often frightening dreams associated with simple or complex motor behavior during REM sleep. Patients appear to "act out their dreams," in which the exhibited behaviors mirror the content of the dreams."

I have been woken up to many things, mostly his yelling at someone such as "Stop that!!!!! No, don't do that!!" But sometimes he starts fighting his battles, physically, and I have received an occasional blow. He has since learned to turn his back to me while sleeping so his fists would hit air instead of flesh. That has helped significantly. Whew! But the verbal yelling is getting worse,so much that I have been woken up several times a night. My response is to scream at him to stop so I can get to sleep. Bad response for both of us because he is now awake and so am I. He could sleep right through his verbal nightmares, but I could not, so I would wake him to stop and then we would both be awake.

What to do? Temporarily, starting last week, I moved to another room. This I hope is temporary as the goal is for him to have this discussion with his doctor about medications to help with this. There is one medication that is effective 90% of the time. Hopefully he can try it and it won't have side effects from all the many other medications that he is taking.

We have been married almost 34 years and we are both very sad about this. He feels so guilty, but I know it is out of his control. I do not blame him at all for this happening. It is just one of those many issues that those with Parkinson's, and their loved ones, have to face.

First Aid for Heroes- sharing

As you all know, I am in the process of writing a book. It is close to completion. I would like to share with you a very small section of one of my chapters on seeing Ground Zero for the first time.

The chapter title is "First Impressions"

I turned the corner and halted my step at the Church Street intersection. I stared incredulously at the confusion directly in front of me, my mouth dropped. I tried to focus my eyes, grasp at reality as to what lay before me, such devastation. There was an inordinate amount of debris, piles of it! Now it became clear to me why Jean told me that Ground Zero was called "The pile". These were enormous piles, slabs of concrete, holding no definition as to what they originally were. Some sections of the buildings were still partially standing, while others were completely unrecognizable. There, straight ahead and to my right, stood what was left of a parking garage, with several cars still inside, abandoned forever, I assumed. The majority of the vehicles were demolished upon recognition. Oh my God, this is not like what I saw on TV, this is worse than anything I could ever imagine! Little did I know what I was seeing was not the main devastation of the two trade towers but of smaller buildings that had collapsed from its wake. Tears began to well up.

Then it hit me, an overpowering intense stench. What in the world was it? How does one describe that burning raw pungent mixture? I really didn’t want to know what this horrific smell was, as my mind started to wonder as to all the many possibilities of what could be mixed in with it. I immediately placed my hand over my nostrils to help clear that foreboding odor out of my head. I started shaking my head, this can’t be real, this must be some sort of dream. No this cannot be a dream, who in their right mind would dream something as dreadful as this? This is truly a nightmare! That initial view and smell has been ingrained in my head even to this day. I’m afraid it is something I will never ever be able to eliminate from the depths of my soul.

I questioned myself for the umpteenth time, what the heck am I doing here? I didn’t want to take it all in; I didn’t want to smell that acrid odor. I shuddered and took a tentative breath telling myself to step away from all of the chaos. The initial thought was to run as far as I could away from the devastation. But I knew deep down that running back to the safety and security of my hotel would not be the right plan. I had to be strong and prove to myself that this could be done; I could work at Ground Zero and even make a difference. I needed to keep moving, but in the direction of Ground Zero. I kept repeating to myself,Just put one foot in front of the other Jane. It was time to begin my volunteer experience. Hurry, I thought. Don’t look at it; just keep your eyes focused on what is straight ahead! Look for that flag!

The red, white and blue of our country’s flag stood off in the distance. I was mesmerized by it's beauty. These were the only colors that I had noticed since leaving the subway. All was a blanket of gray except for this beautiful American Flag. It was shrouding my entire building! Now I understand what Jean was telling me, this has to be it! I found myself almost racing towards it, focusing on it alone. I was breathing heavily, but feeling so determined not to slow down, not to look back. Nothing was going to stop me, nothing! There is a purpose for why you are here, I thought, and that purpose and strength would see me through this country’s difficult time.

I reached for the door and stepped inside.

Bruce

Today's blog is about connections. We all have connections, each and every day. Most we just don't notice as it part of our routine. Connections are what keeps us human and alive. I am hoping at the end of this you will write a comment to me about your connection, a special one that touched your life recently. In doing so, we keep those connections and moments alive.
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"There's a homeless guy across the street" Gary said, intently staring out the window of the restaurant.

"Where?" I asked,leaning forward to get a better view. I saw him, there, maybe 30 feet from where we were sitting. He was leaning against a building with all of his worldly possessions close at hand, three bulging black plastic trash bags. "It's going to be really cold tonight, and that wind! I'm worried about how he will do!"

We sat at the restaurant watching, eating, chatting while staying warm and cozy in our little safe spot. As I sat there, I occasionally glanced out the window and became less interested in my meal. My mind began wandering, how many homeless people have I seen over the years? Tons! And usually I always walk by and hardly ever do a thing, well maybe sometimes I would give a little money here and there. Why was this guy getting to me tonight?

"Do you think he would like my left-overs?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the man across the street. "It's not much, well, maybe half of my meal".

"I'm sure he would and he can have the rest of my fries too" Gary offered. "though I don't feel comfortable going over there to give it to him." I appreciated his honesty, and I understood it but I felt like I had to go over and talk to this guy. There was a draw there, and I did not know why.

I asked the waitress to pack up my food and asked her, if possible, could she throw in a bit more as I was giving it to the homeless guy across the street. Unfortunately, she told me that they were unable to do such things, against their regulations, to give extra. When she brought the bag to me, I noticed that she did put in some plastic cutlery and a napkin. It would have to suffice.

I threw my jacket on and walked out the front door of the restaurant with my restaurant bag in hand. The wind was intense and I pulled up my collar to help shield my neck from the bite of the icy wind. I quickly glanced up and down the street for passing cars and made my way across.

There he stood, leaning against a wall, just staring at me. "Hi" I said. "Are you hungry?"

His eyes got wide and he continued to stare and then slowly he said "Oh yes I AM!"

I smiled and handed him the bag and commented "I saw you while I was sitting in the restaurant".

"You were watching me? Really?" He looked aghast, as if this was something new and unusual for him.

"Well yes we were, my husband and I and we were concerned about you!" I explained.

He was still staring intently into my eyes with a look of awe. "No one ever notices me, you really were watching me? Thank you so much ma'am for the food, that was very generous of you." He reached up and took off his cap and held out his hand, "By the way, my name is Bruce."

"Bruce, I am very pleased to meet you, I'm Jane" I said reaching out to take his hand. "Oh Bruce, your hand is freezing! How will you stay warm tonight?"

"Don't worry about me" he said smiling "I know how to stay warm. There is a subway nearby and I can warm up near the entrance where I will be shielded from the brunt of the cold."

"I hope so, it is bitter out! That wind is just miserable tonight! You promise me you will stay warm?" I pleaded.

"Indubitably!" he jested with his eyes flashing. "Thank you again, it was more than kind of you and I am still dumbfounded that you would even give me the time of day, no one does and it means a lot."

I grabbed his hand and shook it again. "Take good care of yourself, okay?"

He nodded in agreement. As I walked back across the street to my cozy warm restaurant I shivered and caught a blast of wind that nearly knocked me off of my feet. I began to feel terribly guilty that I had such warm inviting building to to go to. I turned and waved and walked through the door.

Yoga- relaxxxxxx-zzzzzzz

My husband, Gary, and I went to a seminar yesterday at our yoga center in town, Sun and Moon Yoga Studio. We signed up for a class called Yoga Nidra. I knew it was for relaxation, but had no idea how relaxed I would become.

"Don't be surprised if you fall asleep during this, it is commonplace for that to happen." our yoga instructor informed us.

As per Wikipedia, "Yoga-nidra refers to the conscious awareness of the deep sleep state, referred to as "prajna"" I don't know how conscious I really was, nor Gary, as I heard him lightly snoring next to me. "The practice of yoga relaxation has been found to reduce tension and anxiety" states Wikipedia.

Just what the doctor ordered as both my husband and I are under a great deal of stress in our lives. So, twenty-seven of us tensed up souls spread our yoga mats throughout the large room to be at one with our selves and our surroundings.

As were were being lulled into our relaxed (semi-comatose) state, I kept thinking, How do I turn off my brain and stop thinking about all of those mundane chores such as laundry, mopping the floors, editing my book. There is no way that I am going to be able to give in to this, no way I can shut off my mind, no way that I can relax that completely.

The next thing I remember was the instructor telling us to "bend your knees and wiggle your fingers." I thought how odd that sounded as I just felt such inner peace within myself and how dare she interrupt me from being in such a very good place! Slowly my mind started to kick back in and I became marginally aware of my surroundings. I stole a glance around the room and smiled to myself when I noticed that every single one of us had the same dreamy like appearance. There was a palpable feel to the room, a feeling of utter calmness. I know that I wasn't the only one who felt it.

"Be careful when you leave here" reminded the instructor "you are in a different state than you were when you came in."

All I know is, there appears to be a half an hour that I cannot account for, was I sleeping, or in a deep state of relaxation or where was I??

The Triple S- Snow, Shoveling and Stranded

The television was playing in the background and I was having a hard time concentrating on my many computer projects. The newscasters were informing us that our first major snowstorm of the season was imminent. "Take heed, this will make for a difficult commute. It will hit at rush hour. It will start as rain, quickly change to sleet and then quickly change to snow. Expect 1-2 inches per hour."

I sent numerous texts to my husband, Gary, who was at a conference at the National Harbor a mere 18 miles away. It may as well have been 180 or more, as I soon found out.

"I'll get in the car and head out after I hear this guy speak. He's a cancer survivor and his talk is so amazing" the text said. I mildly understood as Gary is also a cancer survivor.

"Please leave now!" I texted back. "It is already sleeting here and you are in that little car." I shook my head. Why wouldn't he listen to me, this storm was going to dump snow fast. I pleaded with him earlier in the morning to take my car, but he said he would be fine in his little sports car.

I glanced out the window, drat it had changed to snow and the snow appeared to be coming down in clumps. I've never seen such large flakes!

I went out and shoveled the first 2 inches of snow off of the driveway. As fast as I would shovel, it was only being covered up again. Well, I thought to myself, it's a start. Man it was heavy snow and my back was feeling every shovel full that I tossed off to the side.

I kept going out to clear the driveway hoping that Gary would show up any minute. My fingers were cold and wet and I looked like a bedraggled kitten with my hair dripping all over the floor, when I came in to warm up.

At 6:00 in the evening the phone rang "I've made it as far as the Springfield Interchange and the traffic has just gone to ground. This is going to be a long long trip".

Hourly I would get reports. He was just crawling, traffic was backed up for miles.

Then it started thundering. A snow thunderstorm, how absolutely bizarre!

I was looking out my window at 9:00 pm hoping to see his car turn into our neighborhood when I saw a flash of orange on the other side of our neighborhood, above the tree line. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, as was our power.

Silence. Utter silence. Even my birds in their cages didn't make a sound. It made me think how life must have been before electricity. I have been reading a series of books by Diana Gabaldon about life in the late 1700's and she would mention about how silent the nights were. I felt like I had gone back in time.

That quickly changed when I realized that I couldn't get the garage door open so Gary could get in. Oh crap, I never charged my cell phone all day and the battery was quickly being depleted. Better get some flashlights and start lighting candles. Oh great, I have a gas fireplace and it works! The birds will not freeze! I moved their cages closer to the fireplace. Who knew how long the power would be out!

At 10:30 the power came back on, and what a racket it was! The fish tank began whirring, the television started blaring, the furnace clicked on and the birds started squawking! I blew out the candles and went to get the phone to call Gary. It started ringing in my hand!

"I'm at the top of our neighborhood and stuck" he said. "Grab some shovels and come help me."

After about a half an hour and with the help of a good Samaritan that came over from the next neighborhood,Gary finally pulled into the driveway.

Oh how I wanted to say 'I told you so', but decided that maybe I better not. Oh hell, I had to, I mean what was this man thinking, driving a little sports car on a day we knew it was to snow?

Between 7-8 inches of snow fell. No record by any means compared to the Snowmageddon we had last year. Still, this would be one for the records and I won't let Gary live it down!

The Woes of a New Author in the Digital World

I returned home this past Sunday evening from the Writer’s Digest Conference in NYC, my head filled with ideas on how I really could become the next best seller author if I worked hard at it. My brain held ideas of grandeur that came from the big pitch to the agents on Saturday. I had such positive results and encouragement, that I wondered if my head would fit through the front door of my home in Fairfax, Virginia.

I couldn’t wait to sit down at my computer and start my Twitter account, update my web page, update my blog and Facebook. They informed us we need to be noticed, we need to have an online presence. I could do that, right? I use a computer daily!

There I sat, at the computer, working hard to get that right name for Twitter. Drats, why did I cancel my first Twitter account? I lost the best name, now I will have to fool with a new one. That takes time. Okay, got it, now… (@davisjaneh) Now, how the heck do I get people to follow me? I just thought I would set up the account, boom, and everyone would be there and want to connect to me. Hmmm… I guess it doesn’t work that way, it’s harder than I thought! Thanks to a new friend from the conference, Christine, (@thatgalkiki) she informed her friends that I was new and asked them to connect with me. Voila, it worked!

Now, what do I have to say that is important and interesting and inviting? What would all of my new found friends be expecting of me? I will just watch what they write and learn. The tweets were flying on my screen, and as soon as I finished reading one, five new ones came in! Give me a break. How the heck do I figure this out? I am feeling like a geezer, no way am I going to handle this! Other people do this and are older than me; I can handle this, right?

My eyes were feeling tired and I couldn't wait to take out my contacts. I started yawning and then glanced at the clock, it was after midnight! What happened to my web page and my blog and Facebook? Where the heck had the time gone? I had to say goodnight to my computer friends and get to bed, as five in the morning would come all too soon for getting ready for work!

As I placed my head on the pillow, tweets started flying across the screen in my mind as if I were downstairs sitting in my comfy chair staring at the monitor. Should I grab my iPhone and see if I have another new connection? Oh no, it was happening… I was becoming a tweetaholic!