Category essay

Joy and Sorrow

Angel Ackerman 3 Comments

Since my father died yesterday… yesterday… (it feels like a lifetime ago and at the same time like maybe it didn’t happen at all), I thought it might be wise to keep today quiet.

I canceled my appointment at the gym, as I feel a little drained and shaky from all the emotion yesterday and I know I didn’t eat right.

I started to get dressed and ended up merely putting on a clean t-shirt with my fuzzy cat-in-the-hat pajama pants.

I read more memories people sent me— so many people knew my father. My mother stopped by. My neighbor stopped.

I started laundry. I did dishes. I got out the broom and swept for a while.

I found the pendant my father gave me, engraved with “my little girl yesterday, my friend today, my daughter always, I love you.” It’s on a silver chain that’s tarnished with age with my Celtic knot charm and my amber.

I mopped the kitchen floor. I answered texts and talked on the phone.

I ordered a case of Parisian Phoenix’s next title— Twists: Gathered Ephemera— a poetry manuscript by Darrell Parry, father of the teenager who has been, as always, very helpful and dependable.

I invited my blind friend Nan over for dinner, as she loves to watch me cook and I figured by feeding her I would, in turn, feed the teenager and I.

She accepted.

So while I waited for the teenager to return from school, I wrapped her Christmas presents. The teenager would also swing by Nan’s apartment building.

It was a ridiculously warm, sunny December day and I opened the windows so the cats could frolick.

And when Eva and Nan arrived, we brought Nan to the kitchen and I cooked pork loin, chicken burgers and pre-seasoned pulled chicken. While I cooked, the teenager opened her Christmas presents.

With the holidays fast approaching, and Yule is one of those holidays, I thought she might need some of the items I gave her. I also thought Nan might enjoy watching her open her presents. The teenager works a lot in coming weeks as people travel to see family. Today seemed calmer.

And I thought we could superimpose some joy onto our sorrow and grief.

I packed up leftovers for Nan to take home. Nan and I had soft tacos.

And after dinner, I poured Nan a County Seat Spirits whiskey and water while I had a Yuengling. And we celebrated with a drink in my dad’s honor.

And Nan always makes the teenager and I laugh.

And the neighbor that visited earlier, little dog’s mom, returned with the fanciest chocolate covered pretzels I ever saw. She made them at work and thought we could enjoy them with family after the viewing on Sunday.

Daddy, I promise to seek laughter and joy when I miss you.

Remembering how to Breathe: Homage and Adieu to my Father

Angel Ackerman 4 Comments

My father has been dealing with illness for the last couple weeks, since Thanksgiving.

He was in the hospital twice over the last week, because a twist of complications from COPD and Covid made it impossible for him to breathe. And he wouldn’t eat or drink.

But a week before that he was here and fine.

And yesterday he was stable.

The hospital had sent him for a brain scan because he was delusional and rather hateful. And they discovered that somewhere between seven and 30 days ago he had a stroke.

Well, despite being stable, he apparently had a bigger stroke last night— and it left his legs paralyzed. And he developed pneumonia.

So… I drove to work this morning having last heard that my father was stable and my stepmom was asking family members if we could help care for him while he recovered.

I saw two deer frolicking on the Bizzy Hizzy lawn as I drove to the Stitch Fix warehouse. They were happy and bouncing around, and I was optimistic, Wednesday, after all, is my Friday.

I clocked in and headed to my assigned table and even nailed those numbers as I QC’ed my first few fixes.

I noticed the warehouse seemed hot and sticky and I suspected I smelled funny.

Then my step mom called. She had bad news. Dad was dying.

I walked up to some random supervisor and explained what was happening. Another person who seemed to be more in charge grabbed my Bizzy box and told me he would clock me out.

I had been folding a lovely jewel tone green sweater.

I called the teenager and told her not to go to school.

I drove home racing into a beautiful sunrise.

There was a drug raid at the house two doors down.

The teenager was burning a candle.

We drove to the hospital with no issue and the guard almost stopped us until I told him my dad was dying.

And then when we arrived in the room, my dad looked tiny and frail. He’s always been tiny but never frail.

And this towel in his room was folded like a swan. It seemed out of place, but serene.

We all sat there— my brother for a while, the teenager, my stepmom, her friends, and I— watching my dad gasp to breathe. They didn’t have his teeth in. My sister arrived around 10. She went to the bathroom. The doctor came into the room.

My sister said, “hi, Pop.”

The doctor hugged my stepmom.

And the teenager and I watched him stop breathing. And his death was that quick. 10:07 a.m.

I snapped this photo because if you look near that wad of cotton on his left arm, he has a tattoo of my name. And I might not ever see it again.

My dad was 73. And smoked almost 2 packs a day for almost 60 years.

I have received hundreds of condolences on Facebook today— so many little remembrances of who he was. A message from a high school peer of mine who used to do tractor pulls with my dad. Another high school peer who bought my dad’s tractor trailer. A Target peer whose mom worked for my dad and stepmom, and my dad used to try and explain the tools to him.

Aunt Sharon’s desk

We told my Aunt Sharon. But she said she already knew in her heart.

And we took Dad’s phone charger from his hospital belongings bag so my sister could charge her phone. His teeth are in that pink case. I also took a toothbrush from the hospital. Not sure why. I just wanted it.

And then we got ready for the funeral director.

And then with the viewing and funeral set, we went for pizza.

The people in the local pizza place gave us the pizza for free. My dad made that kind of impact on people.

We asked my mother-in-law if she could make her fried chicken and potato salad for after the viewing. She volunteered to make “Lee’s Beans,” too.

My stepmom’s sister arrived at 7, so after 12 hours I headed home. The teenager looked at me as we walked to the car.

“This is the first time we ever went to the car without Poppop standing in the garage to wave at us,” she said.

Struggling to find a groove

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Change is hard.

Sunday we arrived at work to learn we couldn’t punch in because engineering was upgrading the time clock system. I managed to ship 374 items in 296 packages as part of the Freestyle department.

And my dad— who has been struggling with Covid— ended up back in the hospital.

But then Monday rolled around and I was back in my home department folding clothes.

I was ready to try and excel as the change in shifts has been hard. The ten hour day is amazingly smooth, but getting up at 5 a.m. is exhausting — even if I go to bed at 9 p.m.

And then we changed software and the computers couldn’t keep up with the new system so everyone was working at 80 percent. Okay, I can’t prove everyone, but there’s a day shift woman who told me she always hits her numbers and yesterday she only did 108 instead of 130.

On top of this I had several fixes that I struggled to put in an extra large box and half way through the day the stats went down.

I am struggling to stay motivated and moving without my average time per fix being tracked, let alone no stats at all.

And then some guy drilled each of our table and attached new brooms and butlers. We used to share one or two brooms per valley, now we have about 20.

Many many brooms.

And around 2:30 p.m., a day shift peer was talking to someone who might have been a processing lead and she started hysterically crying for a good 20 minutes.

So I was very glad when yesterday was over. Not only was my back hurting, but my right leg is acting up again and I have intense pains in one of my right toes.

Then today started. My computer doesn’t have a keyboard or a mouse. Just a keypad. And the computer can’t “see” it. Lost ten minutes looking for a mouse until a lead stole one on my behalf.

One of my favorite second shift QC support people— we’ll call him Flying J in honor of the way he buzzes through the valleys with carts under his arms like wings of an airplane— brought me refixes! You know, the fixes that needed to be fixed and come on top of the cart instead of inside.

AND he told day shift that I liked them.

And one of the day shift support people came to see me and said she would bring me as many as she could. Then she paused.

“I don’t know how to say this without offending you,” she said.

“Honey, you can’t offend me.”

“I see the way you work and I see the way you walk—”

I interrupted her. “I have cerebral palsy,” I said. “And right now, my spine is bent the wrong way. I struggle to get the fixes out of slots 7 & 8.”

I was really moved. I am always touched when people want to help.

And today was our December employee luncheon.

Meanwhile, at home, the teenager did a ritual (at my request) for my father’s recovery.

Me and my dad

After work, we took the dog for ice cream at The Spot.

Bean Dog eating ice cream video.

When Sunday comes on Saturday

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My first three day Thursday through Saturday weekend is now coming to a close.

I did some laundry. Did some dishes. Meal prepped for my upcoming lunches and cooked the remaining groceries so the teenager has some food if she wants it. We also discussed our upcoming dinners. I plotted my wardrobe, and I hope to finish gathering underwear and socks, that way I can put my clothes in the bathroom where I can dress without disturbing the cockatoo.

I did a whole lot of work for Parisian Phoenix Publishing, including sending Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money off for copyright.

So, with all of our food planned for the future, the teenager and I visited McDonalds for buy one, get one free Big Macs.

Here is the video of our crazy Bean dog eating her first McDonald’s burger.

Sometimes it’s nice to do something silly.

Hustling and Bustling at Parisian Phoenix Publishing

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Good evening, readers. Just another reminder that my alter-ego is a book publisher and we have new books coming out this month and next. Please consider supporting our publishing house and our authors.

Parisian Phoenix books can be ordered via traditional online retailers (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, even Target), but if you want to find your local independent bookseller, check out Bookshop.org (where our books are also listed), and if you visit a bookseller, they can order our books from Ingram.

And if you want to skip the middle man, contact us at ParisianPhoenix@gmail.com and for $20 through Venmo, we will mail any author-signed Parisian Phoenix title to your door (within the continental US). $10 for each additional title.

Contact me with questions about our titles. And consider supporting our start-up business.

Angel Ackerman's avatarParisian Phoenix Publishing

Periodically during the next week or so, this space will feature updates on various Parisian Phoenix projects.

Yesterday, poet Darrell Parry received a proof of his poetry project TWISTS: GATHERED EPHEMERA that, with a little grit, could be in the printer’s hands in a few days.

Publisher/editor Angel Ackerman performed the initial placements in the non-fiction anthology NOT AN ABLE-BODIED WHITE MAN WITH MONEY, a collection of poetry, prose and artwork produced by authors representing marginalized identities (and with connections to the Lehigh Valley).

The themes of the volume are meant to prompt discussion or at least reflection.

The anthology should be going out for copyright this weekend and hopefully be available for sale by the end of January.

TRAPPED, our contemporary romance by Bethlehem, Pa., author Seneca Blue has had its words organized on the page and is waiting for interior art. This pocket romance with feature the photography…

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Physical Therapy Gone Wicked

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Today was my third visit to St. Luke’s Physical Therapy at Anderson Campus.

I love them. I love the impact of physical therapy.

I am probably the perfect candidate to be in physical therapy for the rest of my life.

Today, though, my physical therapist introduced some strength building exercises that I would classify as difficult and a little wicked, in the best way possible.

My homework is to keep stretching my back opposite the direction of my retrolisthesis, especially by doing yoga— cobra pose 50 times a day.

Something is definitely working, so we’ll credit PT.

But my session today started on a treadmill which is always a challenge for me. It requires concentration for me. I have to think about each step and try to walk evenly and correctly.

After an eight minute warm-up, we did some Cobra pose/press-ups, some lifts (the kind where my belly is on the table and I bend my knee at a 90 degree angle and lift my leg from the table using the hip area) and today he slapped on ankle weights, some bridges, some one legged bridges, and a bridge where I hold and lift each leg up (one at a time of course) while keeping my hips up, and some hip stretches moving my leg while standing on the cushion.

It was an intense 30 minutes. So I treated myself to a free holiday blend coffee at Dunkin.

Now, I had a chiropractor appointment with Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center next. But I had enough time to run home and use the bathroom.

And feeling spry I hopped to the curb, fell, scraped up my hands and a knee, and apparently flung my phone half way across the neighbor’s yard.

But I arrived at the chiropractor on time and learned that not only is Nicole liking my progress, but she also is on chapter three of my book, Manipulations.

All in all, a good start to the middle of my weekend.

Review: County Seat Spirits Whiskey Collaboration with Boser Geist Brewing

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So in mid-November, County Seat Spirits announced they would be launching their collaboration whiskey, distilled from coffee stout from Boser Geist Brewing, on Black Friday.

Both establishments are in Easton’s Silk Mill.

Both create invigorating adult beverages.

My second novel, Courting Apparitions, launched the same day and I thought this particular spirit would be the perfect celebration.

Except when Black Friday came, I didn’t want to leave my house.

Last night, the teenager received a call from her father. He needed to go grocery shopping and with his car out of commission, he required her help as chauffeur.

Now, the way to his apartment goes right by Easton’s Silk Mill. So, I ordered my bottle of the collab and ask her dad to pick it up.

When they finished their shopping, he joined me for a tasting of the libation and it was delightful to see it warm his mood.

I didn’t feel like looking for real serving glasses or retrieving ice, so I poured about an ounce into tea cups. The scent was very strong and biting. A closer examination revealed it was 90 proof so that might explain the explosion in my nose.

The ex said he could taste the flavors as soon as it hit his lips. Potent. Elaborate.

He had purchased some Kalamazoo Stout, which is brewed with licorice. We poured the whiskey over ice and added the stout.

Both on its own and as a power force in the stout, the whiskey and its complexity did not disappoint.

To purchase Courting Apparitions or my first novel, Manipulations, visit your favorite online retailer. (Here’s a link to Barnes & Noble.) For more information on other projects and releases from my publisher, visit Parisian Phoenix Publishing.

Wednesday is the new Friday and the Rogue Employees that Sit

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Greetings, kind readers (and the surly readers, too)! We did it. I heard one of our second shift process leads refer to use as “weekend warriors” and the first batch of weekend warriors has left the building.

Working four days of ten hour shifts in some ways felt easier than the traditional eight hour work day, at least for me. The longer breaks and the staggered arrangement of those breaks mimicked the work arrangement we were already used to at Stitch Fix.

I am not currently making my numbers in my home department of QC but I think I am maintaining my current performance percentage from before the change.

Today was bingo day. They periodically called bingo numbers over the warehouse speakers. I did not win.

The monumental swing of getting up at 5 a.m. has been brutal, and I am looking forward to sleeping until 7 a.m. tomorrow.

The teenager took her dad grocery shopping as the insurance adjuster declared his car totaled after Sunday’s accident.

So I asked him to stop and pick up a bottle of special whiskey that I preordered from County Seat Spirits.

But back to work… We expected the transition to first shift to have some wrinkles, but my roster (and yes me among them) seems to have made a most egregious gaffe.

We had a meeting with one roster from second shift and two rosters from day shift in the main cafeteria at 9:15 a.m. Most of our roster entered the room together and we arrived quasi-first so we did what we would normally do at a meeting in the main break room.

We sat down.

The day shift representatives came in and stared and whispered. They asked, “Can we sit down?” No one answered them. No one sat down. No one said anything to us.

After the meeting, our process lead visited us one by one and told us we cannot sit during meetings because then the cleaning crew would have to clean the tables. (Part of the company’s Covid precautions.)

Many of our day shift partners murmured about our rebellion all day.

One day shift person came over to me, as if she needed to play the role of peacekeeper, and told me she told her peers that we did things differently. That we’re more laid back.

All because we sat down.

Apparently a rebellion.

Day 3 of 10-hour day shift in the warehouse: Podcast reviews

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(And a foster cat and teenager update)

This new work week is certainly moving quickly although each day I come home more exhausted. I’m hurting more once I get home, but I’m fine for the first 9+ hours of my shift. If you don’t know what I’m talking about read these:

Yesterday

Sunday

The teenager kept my car as the last two of our fosters who needed to be spayed went to Canyon River Run today. That would be Mama Danu and her tabby kitten Baile from the Celtic Pride.

Georgie (lower left) and Baile (silver tabby)

She hoped to bake cookies for the platters Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab plans to distribute to the many vets who assist the organization. Her eighth grade boyfriend came over to lend a helping hand so she also taught him to make bread.

Meanwhile I just kept dreaming of an iced cold Coke Zero. And an interesting thing happened — I got to work and there was a 4-pack of 20-ounce Coke Zero bottles with a post-it note declaring them free.

I brought them home. My guess is someone didn’t realize Coke Zero had been relabeled in the same red as classic Coke.

Which my metrics tanked by the end of the day which had me chugging this at 3 p.m. break.

My 4 p.m., I was trembling and about to cry. Do. Not. Repeat.

I treated the teenager to dinner at Tic Toc so she could get her last pay check. We both ate too much.

I did my physical therapy exercises and took a hot shower. By the end of the shower my right leg was very uncomfortable so I took a low dose muscle relaxer and covered my leg, knee and back with CBD Medic’s Arthritis Cream.

One more day.

So now, as promised, let me offer some thoughts on podcasts. The teenager and I compared notes on our Spotify end-of-year wrap up and she thought she was impressive with 17,000 minutes since we started using the service in mid-year. I have 88,000+.

MY FAVORITE PODCASTS I LISTENED TO SO FAR THIS WEEK:

  • This one surprises me. The Ellen Fisher Podcast. She’s a very interesting person with her journey to raise her own food in Hawaii with her brood of plant-based kids and interest in all things calm and positive. I don’t really don’t know how I feel about her podcast — but I recently listened to her episode on Mind Change. It was an interesting discussion of neuroscience facts blended with alternative healing techniques to deal with personal trauma to heal the body of disease and mental illness. The guests on the show discuss their experience that illness, whether physical or mental, is the body manifesting trauma that the person has refused to acknowledge and heal.
  • The Daily. I often force myself to listen to the Daily even when the topics don’t interest me. This week I found myself pleasantly surprised by their coverage of Stephen Sondheim’s death.
  • Snacks Daily. Snacks Daily is a brief podcast from Robin Hood, yes the investment folks. It’s an economic summary of course, but it also provides humor and the business side of the news.
  • I finished Sh**hole Countries by Radiotopia. The American host on that show grapples with the possibility that her Ghanaian parents want her to move to Ghana. Enjoyable but also not what I expected. The host uses much of her platform to talk about her queerness and human rights.
  • The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. Very useful and broad tips about writing, critiquing and publishing.
  • Africa Daily just did a good episode on fistula. I found that a surprising topic. I’m impressed. (Though they did not mention the prevalence of female genital cutting and its impact on the rate of fistula.)

Other notables: Power Hugh Hefner, American Scandal The Lewinsky Affair, Operator, Against the Odds Rock Climbers Abducted.

And here is a video of Nala the Goffins Cockatoo: Nala harassing foster cat tripod Louise

Good night all.

Surviving Day 2: First Day Shift with Day Shift

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The teenager got up a little before 6 a.m. to drive me to the Bizzy Hizzy. Her father had a car accident yesterday and she needed a ride to her therapist appointment after school.

For those who don’t know me, I am a former journalist and non-profit communications/development professional with mild cerebral palsy working at one of Stitch Fix’s warehouse. For the most part, I fold clothes for a living.

I like the concept, always have since I first read of it in Vogue a decade ago. The company itself has what I refer to as a California culture, which can be a little ridiculous but makes me feel like a person at my job in addition to being a cog in the wheel.

Why am I working at Stitch Fix instead of in a “nice professional job”?

  1. I make as much money at Stitch Fix as I did in my professional jobs, with better benefits and paid time off and proper holidays.
  2. I have less stress.
  3. Although the job can be monotonous at times, it allows me to think throughout the day. I plot my novels. I plan for my business. I guess in a way I meditate.
  4. Although with my health issues, the job can tax my body but it also keeps me more active than an office job.
  5. Until recently, the convenience of second shift hours allowed me to live my own life during the day and work at night. This allowed me to launch my publishing company, Parisian Phoenix Publishing Company. (Please consider purchasing my novels Manipulations and Courting Apparitions. New titles in other genres coming soon. Titles not by me.)

Which brings me full circle. Stitch Fix started second shift (3:30 p.m. to midnight) to split the number of workers in the warehouse during Covid. But now, thanks to the success of experiments with what was “Direct Buy” and is now Stitch Fix Freestyle, the company has transitioned from operating Monday through Friday 6 a.m. to midnight to seven days a week, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m.

From a transportation logistics standpoint it makes total sense. The business model was originally set up to provide customers with a custom-curated box of five items based on their selections on a computerized survey and the input of a personal stylist.

The idea was to combine items selected with your preferences in mind with the element of surprise, making it like receiving a gift in the mail.

But now people can also order whatever they want. And when people order it, we can ship it and have it to them within, in most cases, a day or two.

On the Monday to Friday model, which the employees loved, the person who ordered a shirt Friday at lunch time might not receive it until the following Wednesday.

I respect the company for adjusting its behavior to capitalize on current trends.

Stitch Fix has truly gone above and beyond to make the transition as comfortable as possible for second shift employees. For instance, we got priority for new shift assignments— we got to pick what shift we wanted to work. And we could request our preferred roles, too.

I wanted Sunday to Wednesday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. (Well, actually I wanted Wednesday to Saturday, because having Saturday night through Tuesday night off seems like a cool weekend. But my commitments made that impossible.) And I opted to stay in Women’s Outbound.

Today was our second day of this new schedule and our first day overlapping with “traditional” day shift. There were only about 35 of us, and a couple hundred of them.

Day shift is way different from Midnight Society. They have so many people that the jobs get very specific and everyone has an assigned location.

Things I normally have to do for myself, like gathering extra supplies, now get delivered to me.

And the day shift people, who, in the past were rather particular about everything and could be quite mean, now seem curious and even helpful— just like we would be on Midnight Society when someone new joined the team.

The day went just as quickly as yesterday but one BIG thing needs to be addressed.

Someone needs to tell the cleaning crew to adjust their schedules as old cleaning routine has them cleaning the ladies room at our first break and at end of day.

It made sense to clean the bathroom at 5 when we had our first evening break at 5:30, but now? It’s a little cruel.