The Truck Driver's Wife

I wish I knew the author of this piece. It is my challenge to live up to...this clipping hung in my mother-in-law's house, and I am now privileged to have it hanging in mine. How often I have wished for just one more chance to ask how best to do this job...

The Truck Driver's Wife

She's the woman behind the man behind the wheel...
She's the woman who loves and comforts the man who has horizons in his eyes...
She keeps a snug harbor...and an open heart of welcome for the roamer home from the highways.

She's a truck driver's wife.

She runs the home for the man who drives by night so the world can live tomorrow...
She's a brave smile that says "Goodbye."
She's a happy laugh that says "Welcome home."
Her life is geared to the roar of the road.
Her life is made up of sudden farewells...and happy hellos.

She's expectant eyes peering out the front window waiting for the welcome sight of familiar headlights...
She's the dream a man carries in his heart on midnight highways and over rugged mountains and across lonely prairies...

She's a truck driver's wife.

She cooks the meals and tends the babies, washes the clothes and keeps the house...and waits...
Her heart skips a beat at the squeal of brakes...or the scream of a siren...
She dislikes rainy nights and emergency runs...the sight of red rear lights disappearing down the highway...
She's two loving arms at the end of a journey...

She's a truck driver's wife.

She likes days off...short hauls...the family gathered around...and her husband sitting safely by the fire...
She's waiting on the front porch...a smile at the end of a long haul...she's love keeping the home lights bright for a working wanderer.
She's a smiling photo in a man's wallet, a happy thought on an empty night, the dream a man carries in his heart when he's miles from home.
She has learned to smile when he says goodbye...the patience of lonely evenings...to live for the happy hellos...

She's a truck driver's wife.

At times, deep in her heart, she dreams of her husband working from 9 til 5 like other men...she envies the women who can tell by the clock when their men will swing into the driveway...

But then, she wouldn't be married to the fulfilled, confident man who holds forty tons of wheeled steel on the ribbons of the nations highways...and drives by night so the nation can live tomorrow...

So she waits with a patient smile...and she keeps her heart and home warm for the man who has highways in his eyes...

She's a truck driver's wife.

I Don't Know Who That Lady is....

The "littles" spent the morning with me while their mommie shopped. After making a secret hideout in the bedroom closet, they asked permission to "play pennies" with the Trucker's change basket.

Emptying the basket on the bedspread, we learned how many pennies were in a nickel, dime, quarter, and dollar.

Then I moved into the hall to work on mending, leaving them to their play. The girlies raided my baking drawer for measuring cups and spoons, and proceeded to bake "penny cakes" with "dollar icing" and "penny sprinkles" on top.

I kept half an ear on their conversation to be certain no tasting of the delicacies was involved. The whole of both ears perked up when they got distracted by the through-the-years photos of the Trucker and me on the wall.

"Look, there's Uncle & Aunt!  Here, and here, and here!" Then they moved to our wedding photo. "Here's Uncle again, but I don't know who that lady is....I wonder if Aunt knows?"

I wonder too, if Aunt knows who that lady is...or was....!

The Singer

Opened up a faithful friend today that, with two brief interludes, has been closed and waiting quietly for decades. A fun experience for all but the overstuffed feline who is accustomed to sleeping atop it when no one is looking...

Back in the 1920's my Dear Grandma and her mother, affectionately called Mammie, had the option of "electrifying" their treadle Singers. Great-grandma did, but Grandma liked action where it could be found, and preferred to treadle. Years later, she did acquire an electric "machine" which served her faithfully through thousands of quilt tops til she retired from quilt making in her 90's.

The brief respites? The first in 1992, when a sewing machine was not in our budget, I stitched hopes and dreams into the seams of my maternity clothing on the old treadle Singer.

Then my mother-in-law gifted me with a sturdy, vintage Pfaff which fashioned clothing and bedding for our growing family, while DD#1 created doll clothes on the old Singer. (I found some still in the drawers and was amazed again at her skill with the tiny pieces! Hope you do this again someday!)

Now that Pfaff is beyond repair, and replaced by a portable. And this morning the old Singer is again humming. If it could only speak....

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Reading on the Road

February 1, 2018

Now that my voice has mostly healed, the Trucker and I enjoyed Rilla of Ingleside by L. M. Montgomery together the last days of this trip.  Although, certain passages did bring out some of the emotion that we have been choking back recently.  Some passages that resonated with me:

P. 83
I do not wonder that babies cry when they wake at night.  Everything presses on my soul then and no cloud has a silver lining.

P.147-148
We have learned to go on with life...as a matter of course.  If they do not come back, I know my heart will break (completely)...yet I go on and work and plan...and even enjoy life by times.  Just for the moment we don't think about things, and then - we remember - and the remembering is worse...

p. 188-189
The fierce flame of agony burned itself out and the grey dust of its ashes were all over the world...it was possible to go on with existence, since existence had still to be reckoned with.  There was work to be done.  She had to put on calmness and endurance as a garment in the day; but night after night she lay in her bed weeping...

I Find Some Peter Rabbits

I found some Peter Rabbits!  In a TA in Porter, Indiana.  

Most likely these did not ride the Trucker's trailer, though.

When Your Friend is Grieving a Prodigal

Fromm the perspective of the Trucker and his passenger.  Not to say this is everyone's opinion or experience ...

- This grief is very real. It is like a death, only there is no closure. Time does not heal. It is a nightmare from which your friend cannot awaken.

- All stages of grief will be experienced, and often all at once. Allow space to work through them.

- DO NOT say, “After a while you will feel better/get over it/be glad it happened.” Whether or not these statements will become true, the grieving person is not ready to hear them, and the statements add yet another cruel burden.

- DO NOT say, “Maybe this happened because you didn’t love him/her enough/did this/didn’t do that.” Possibly these are the most cruel comments ever. Any true parent will recognize the lie here. Your friend has enough guilt of her own to struggle with, justified or not. She doesn’t need yours.

- DO NOT GOSSIP, even under the guise of “sharing a prayer request.” Just pray.

- DO NOT give advice unless you have earned the right, and few have.

- DO NOT recommend books, scriptures, songs or sermons, etc. unless asked. If something was particularly meaningful to you, ask permission before sharing it, and NEVER go back and ask if they read/listened to your recommendation. Grieving takes an incredible amount of time and energy. Do not assume you know what is needed or that your friend can absorb your information.

- RECOGNIZE that going out in public, even for routine errands, is extremely difficult. Your friend feels conspicuous, not knowing who “knows” and who doesn’t, and is fully aware “things” are being said behind her back. Invitations out and requests to visit should be given carefully, and refusals accepted without judgment.

- BE AWARE that tears are always just under the surface. Neither you nor she knows what the triggers may be at any given time. Give space to grieve, whatever form it takes. Supply tissues,  hugs, words of comforting scripture, and refrain from asking for explanations.

- Words are not always necessary. An understanding smile, a gentle touch says it all.

- DO NOT be offended if she passes you by when you invite conversation. She may not have the emotional energy for interaction, or may have emotions too close to the surface to enable her to bear even your kind attention.

- KNOW that there is no emotional energy to deal with day-to-day, all is taken up with the crisis situation. This will be her life long after everyone else has gone on with their own.

- DO NOT ask, “How are you?” unless you truly want to know, and have time to hear.

- Every new season, holiday, anniversary, will bring fresh grief, and a setback in working through the stages of grief. Be open to sharing your family at these times, but do not pressure. Much as your care is appreciated, your grief stricken friend may not have the emotional stamina to “celebrate” or even be with other people.

- DO tell her about your own family, your joys and sorrows. She may weep again over her own loss, but to withhold your own life will make her feel even more isolated. Sharing your child(ren) will be a comfort.

- IF you have a connection with the prodigal, LET YOUR FRIEND KNOW. She is still a mother, still loves her child. She craves information about her child that is now denied her. Tell her about your connection, what her child looked like, what was said (if confidentiality doesn’t apply), how her child is doing. Yes, she will weep, but she will also weep, not knowing. She will eventually learn about your connections with her loved one(s) and will feel betrayed yet again if you try to hide it.

- IF you have a connection with the prodigal, ASK GOD first about challenging him/her regarding their responsibilities in the broken communication, and prompt him/her toward reconciliation as directed in scripture.

- Mention the elephant in the room, then set it aside. Everyone knows it is there anyway.

- Weep with those who weep.

- Pray, pray, pray.

Things I Learn - Runaway Truck Ramps

Things I Learn – Runaway Truck Ramps

January 30, 2018

Route 94, toward the sunrise. Coming down the mountains in central Montana. A quiet morning – but when are the mountains noisy? The low hanging blanket of clouds is separating, revealing mountain peaks in the distance, and puffy, rolling clouds soaring above. The sun’s brightness is just beginning to glow between peaks and clouds.

After a low gear, grinding ascent, the truck faces a long, curved, downhill grade. Its weight, including 44,000 pounds of boxed, palletized Fuji, Gala, Daisy, and Red Delicious apples, and a full load of fuel, push forward. Instead, the Trucker flips a switch. The truck responds with a loud, continuous roar, but obediently holds back.

A compression brake, developed in the 1940’s by a man named Jacobson, commonly referred to as a Jake brake. It puts pressure on the exhaust valves, not allowing them to open fully. The blocked exhaust backs up and builds pressure in the motor, hindering its ability to turn freely, thus slowing the motor, and in turn hindering the truck’s ability to roll freely. This helps control the truck’s speed without depending entirely on the brakes.

Necessity truly is the mother of invention, as the saying goes. Mr. Jacobson had made a trip to California with a friend. Their vehicle lost brakes traveling down Cajon Pass in California, along old Route 66 between Victorville and San Bernadino, California.

Modern brakes alone can safely bring a truck to the bottom of a mountain. The trucker needs to start down very slowly, at times first coming to a complete stop, and know how to use brakes without making them overheat. A light, steady pressure is better than an on and off pressure, for keeping brakes cool.

Midway down the grade, though, is a clearing on the road’s right shoulder, leading to a sharp uphill. Unused, thankfully, for some time, as evidenced by a smooth sheet of snow and ice over the clearing. A runaway truck ramp.

A runaway truck ramp is placed at various locations on steep downgrades to give the trucker an option to stop his truck if he sees his speed is too fast to safely continue, and/or if his brakes fail. Ramps are made with deep, loose gravel. Most are aimed in a sharp upward incline from the road. The loose gravel will suck the truck down, and, along with the uphill grade, bring it to a stop.

 In some locations, where there is not space to build a long ramp, heavy timbers are buried crossways in the gravel, to stop the truck before it reaches the ramp’s end. The loose gravel will damage the truck somewhat, and require the services of a tow truck to extricate its victim. But the buried timbers will knock axles out from under the truck, most likely totaling it in the process of stopping it.

Route 84 in Oregon, August 2017.  This trucker needed a ramp to stop, though it didn't take much of the ramp.  Note at end of video, his front axle is twisted.

The alternative? An out of control truck, 80,000 pounds if loaded to the legal limit, taking out anything and anyone it its path before finally crashing.

The Trucker’s daily prayer is for safety and protection; that he would not harm anyone else. He will sacrifice his livelihood, and himself if needed, to protect those around him.