The sentence “What a long strange trip it’s been” didn’t mean much to me back in the 60s when the Grateful Dead recorded it. It’s somewhat like Woodstock. I knew about it, but I was dating my future wife. That interested me more than going to a music festival. We both worked, and she lived 50 miles away in Lancaster, PA. It meant the only time we could get together was on the weekends.
Sometimes it’s looking back that makes something of interest. The phrase from the Grateful Dead now seems to apply to my life. I know that’s out of context with the song. However, the sentence has meaning for me. The other day, I talked to a friend in Australia via the Internet. I told her about a woman I had met while being a cook at an assisted care facility. When I have told the story in the past, people remarked about the many things I have done in my life.
After finishing my degree at Western Michigan University, I had interviews at several colleges that came to nothing. I was getting bored and needed to do something to keep from going crazy. I went to a local motel and was hired as a maid. That was a great job. You went in and did your work and brought nothing home. I was the only man on the crew. The women quickly treated me as just another maid.
After that, I got a job as a relief cook in an assisted care home. I cooked two or three days a week. Breakfast was almost like being a short-order cook. The main meal of the day was at the lunch hour. I’d often make dinner rolls to go with lunch, and there was just enough time for that. They generally could be served still a bit warm from the oven. I also cooked on holidays. That was a special time because residents of the home often had family members to share their meal for the holiday.
I left that job because my back was beginning to bother me. I had no idea what it was and just thought it was from standing all day cooking.
