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Before I became the community editor back in May, I was a reporter and staff writer for the Herald-Star and Weirton Daily Times. This was back in 2005 through 2011. And during this period, I would sometimes write a column for the Toronto Scene. I recall complaining each and every week about the need for a red light on Franklin Street because having to make a turn off of Nebo Drive or Dennis Way was almost impossible. And to this day, it still is.
No, I didn't get the red light. But I digress and have learned to move on.
Many of my articles I wrote revolved around my children. I have three boys -- all grown now and on their own. I even have a 7-month-old grandson. But don't tell anyone because that would give away my age.
I am so kidding! That child is the most beautiful gift God ever gave me and I would show him off to anyone who asks. I show him off even when they don't ask.
But during my Toronto Scene days, the columns about my children tended to veer more toward complaining.
I complained about everything. Those poor children. My poor mother.
I think my complaints centered around school the most.
And after having to write about back-to-school rallies and backpack giveaways this week, it caused me to pause and reflect on the times when I had to deal with those matters.
Then I went to the store the other day and saw row after row of paper, markers, folders and every type of school item imaginable. I also saw parents with that look of frustration. You know the one. That it is all going to begin again in just a matter of weeks.
I watch as they appear irritated as they try to follow the piece of paper telling them what they must purchase in order for their child to be able to walk through those school doors on the first day back.
That long list the districts demand we buy with our hard-earned money.
You must have three -- and I mean three 3/4 -inch binders. Because two will certainly not be sufficient. You have to buy Clorox wipes and baby wipes. Germs, you know. Although I'm fairly certain a bucket of water and a rag would get the job done, too. But who am I to say. I'm not a doctor. I just write.
You know, I used to think germs were kind of a good thing because they helped to build up your immune system. Again, I'm not a doctor. But it seems that kids today are getting sick far too easily. I think it's because we take away many of the germs and their immune systems can't build up any intolerance.
But I just write.
Anyway, that list. I remember when my children brought home their back-to-school list of supplies and I totally flipped. Not only was the list much longer than normal, it included (and I kid you not) a bag of candy.
I had to buy a bag of candy when I couldn't afford to buy a bag of candy for myself. Raising three boys on my own with no child support or additional means of income. Just me and my jobs. Yes, I did hold five jobs at once for a brief period. And I was not going to spend my hard-earned money on a bag of candy for them to take to school. Sorry.
Anyway, as I walked past these parents shopping for school items, I began to cry. Right there in the store. No one noticed because no one ever pays me any mind.
But I noticed.
I missed those moments with my children. I missed the times I will never get back.
Like the day when the bus was late. After finally pulling up in front of my mother's house, we posed the question as to why they were late. My middle son said it was because "someone was standing up on the bus and the bus wouldn't move until they sat down."
Then voluntarily, without missing a beat, my youngest says, "It was me."
No one had even asked. And my son wasn't going to offer up his brother's name. Yet he informed us none-the-less he was the one who caused the bus to be late.
Another moment that came to me as I stood in the store...
Having my youngest complain he only got peanut butter sandwiches or fish sticks for lunch. I asked how this was even possible when I pay for him to eat in the cafeteria and I see what the menu offers each day. Nowhere does it say peanut butter sandwiches.
He informed me (he was the informer of the family, obviously) that band students were allowed to eat first.
And when you were at the end of the line, most of the food was already gone and those were his options. I thought about it and was going to pack a lunch for him to take. But he came home and informed me he had joined the band.
We are not musically-inclined people so I asked why? He said he wanted to eat first. I could see his point.
The next day, I asked what he had for lunch since he was able to eat before the others. He replied, "I don't know. I traded my lunch for a big cookie."
Needless-to-say, there was no more band for Noah.
I also recall when my other son came home from school and out of the blue he said, "I quit the band."
"What band? You weren't in band." It's moments like these that make me not only have a headache, but laugh hysterically at my children's thought process. How I miss them.
I truly miss those days of being able to do all of those school forms sent home on the first day back to class. I miss doing their homework for them at 3 in the morning. I miss my youngest telling me at 11 p.m. he has an assignment due in the morning and it's way past his bedtime. I offer to do it. Turns out it's an essay page of about six questions on a play written by Shakespeare. I can not recall which one but it was one I hadn't read. Of course.
So I am up reading an entire work of Shakespeare so I can answer his essay questions. I think I got a C. I loved those times. I love those memories.
And I want to walk up and tell those shoppers not to sigh and roll their eyes because they have to buy filler paper and binders in a specific width. I want to scream at the mothers who are irritated they have to wake their children up at 6 a.m. so they get enough bathroom time before the bell rings. I want them to know how lucky they are. Because the day will come when they aren't able to wake their children up. Or tuck their children into bed anymore.
What I would give to be able to go back. To have my children be little again. To listen to their laughter from another room.
Even to hear their requests for school items which I found unnecessary.
I would find it to be a welcoming sound now. To have those days back? To have them young again?Heck, I would even break down and buy that bag of candy.
(Stenger is community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times)