Life Changing Quotes (that you never heard before)

While I was in college studying to become an orthotic/prosthetic technician, I worked part-time as a waitress and was paid to tutor anatomy and physiology at college for a couple of years. Because of my academic standing in nursing, the year prior, I was able to secure a couple of grants...I was lucky. My family had no money to support me financially - well since the age of 16, really.

Backtracking a bit . . .

At 15 years of age, while studying music at the University of Western Ontario (in London, Ontario, Canada) I achieved the Royal Conservatory of Music (RCM) Honors in piano and music theory. My music teacher only taught up to Grade 6 RCM - after those exams and certificates, I was beginning Grade 7 (at that time, if you had Grade 8, you could teach piano). Unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, no longer was it affordable for me to continue; my piano teacher even offered to continue teaching me for part of Grade 7.

My father (an engineer, who had three brothers who became doctors) was certain that medicine would be the best path for me. He asserted, "If you go into medicine, you'll never be without a job" (shhh, I can hear many of you laughing out there). For me, at least, I haven't known any job security in the healthcare field whatsoever.

Because of the escalating tension in the house, my mother's addiction to valium and her constant accusations and criticisms, I left home at 16 years of age to live with my boyfriend and his mother. Too young, I know, but it saved my sanity. At that time, I was on the honor roll in highschool and I was determined to complete highschool and pursue college.

My father decided to ignore me for a full two years; he was ashamed of me. He even criticized my choice of studying nursing, stating, "A nurse is just a doctor's janitor."

Having never been on any fun march break vacation, ever, I finally decided to treat myself. So, I booked a bus tour vacation after a flyer (posted at school) caught my eye. It was such a good price - something like $99 to go to Florida (from Toronto). No one in my orthotic/prosthetic course was going and I actually didn't bother asking anyone. I always loved to just do my own thing and make new friends.

So, the weekend prior to leaving on my little holiday, I spent some time with my best friend (and mother figure) Ema. (Ema means "mother" in Estonian). She warned me not to go, saying, "You know Rose, they are calling for some really bad weather around the Florida area..."

I was stubborn, I figured if the tour company did not cancel it, then surely it was safe to go. My best friend, ever in life, who loved me (with all of my faults), has since passed away. And I miss her terribly.

So, two buses of excited college kids departed from The Old Mill in Toronto. I was one of the oldest (and nerdiest) since I had my text books with me to study en route. The tour bus leader (I forget his name, was in his late 30's or 40's) smoked outside at every pit stop the bus made.

After crossing the border, I was surprised that the tour bus guide mentioned that alcoholic beverages could be bought (and if consumed on the bus) to kindly "keep it down, keep it to yourselves, if you do so." There was much giggling and excitement among the 18 - 22 year olds, I noticed, with that announcement.

Mid-way through the trip, along the I-75, there were reports and obvious signs that a huge winter storm was hitting areas of the U.S. Looking outside of the tour bus, we saw snow and could feel the bus tires slipping numerous times. Everyone became quiet while both the traffic and visibility faded to black within a short couple of hours.

A state of emergency was issued and all of the highways were closed. The army was called in to help those in need and we heard helicopters overhead. By now, everyone's walkman batteries had run out (no one had a cell phone back then). The bus driver had his communication device and kept us informed. We were told that all hotels were packed and that we'd be stationed at the Chattanooga airport. The bathroom on the bus had clogged, so many of us (especially the girls) were relieved to learn that (soon enough) we wouldn't have to do our "business" outside.

Inside the airport, we could finally use the bathrooms, drink from water fountains and stretch our legs. It was cold inside the airport, however, and blankets were scarce. The army issued emergency food rations..I still have the little tiny 1" bottle of Tobasco sauce that came in my package of dried chicken noodle soup, instant coffee, crackers and jam. Instead of using a blanket, I just layered my clothing; for there were families with children who needed them more.

Every pay phone in the airport had a line-up of anxious people behind it - wanting to let loved ones know they were okay...and also to find out what they knew about the storm. Eventually, I called my parents...my mother didn't really know what to say, my father sounded reassuring and my brother said, "Well, they called in the army to help people..so it should be okay."

I was beside myself with how little they listened to me and how convinced they were that 'it was all being taken care of.' I tried to tell my mother that the army didn't have enough supplies for everyone, but she didn't respond. She was emotionless and had nothing to offer.

Oh well, I let someone else use the phone then. While walking away, I overheard that one of the kids from our tour bus had spoken to his parents and they decided to have him fly home to Toronto from there. No such offer was extended to me by my family (and I didn't bother to ask). It was silently understood that there was always "no money."

The tour guide and bus driver told us we would keep going. So there we were, travelling along the Interstate 75, heading towards the peaks and ridges of the Cumberland mountains - which wind around some of the highest points of elevation along its route. A narrowed stretch of highway was now surrounded by steep snow covered mountains. While on it, we only moved 1 mile in 8 hours. There, highways are not plowed, salted and sanded like they are in Canada. For the first time, I felt a bus fish-tail on a highway and we were moving slowly. Many of us felt unsettled. Some were scared and cried.

To make matters worse, a reported risk of avalanches in the area was issued. We could hear whatever was announced to the bus driver and night was falling. Some cried quietly and others drank whatever booze they bought. I prayed that if I were to die, that it be quick (and therefore painless). I hoped that my skull would be crushed so that I wouldn't feel massive physical pain from being crushed by wet, heavy snow.

By dawn, the stress was starting to take its toll. Since two buses left Toronto and traffic was sometimes halted, people from both buses were chatting, whenever the tour guide needed a smoke break. I didn't talk to anyone from the other bus, but a guy and gal seated near me said something like, 'No one is getting along in the other bus...they are all really stressed out.'

I must admit, we all bonded on our bus. And the guys (aged 18 - 23) were amazing. When the bus was stalled, our guys got out to push. When it fish-tailed on ice, the guys went to the back of the bus to weigh it down. And when we were overheating on the bus, the guys sang their version of the Beatles tune, "Don't let me down" but changed one word in it to become, "Don't melt me down." We all laughed. I was so impressed at the courage of everyone (some 5-7 years younger than I) on that bus.

Mostly everyone on the bus had pre-packed junk food items to take along the trip, which was supposed to be only 24 hours. We were on day two now and the food was running low. Impressive to me, though, was the sharing of our supplies (even tissues for the washroom). What worried me was the amount of alcohol being drank. I was pretty sure that the dehydrating effects of that was worse for the group than a lack of food. I didn't drink alcohol on the trip, since I needed to study for the exams I was facing upon my return to school.

At the next smoke break (for the tour guide), I overheard the bus driver saying there was a rest station about a mile away with vending machines. Traffic was barely moving, since during a state of emergency, the highways are closed. Every hour or so, we'd move maybe 100 yards. In the distance, I could see the top of a small building about a mile away and some 50 yards off of the highway.

I headed towards that rest station. It took almost an hour to make it through the thick heavy snow which, once off the highway, my entire leg would be engulfed by each step...but I could clearly see the vending machine.

I kept popping in quarters and pressing the buttons, mostly for grape soda, since the others were sold out. When I ran out of quarters, I only had maybe 5 cans. So I beat on the machine with all of my strength...and finally, boom...about 14 more cans came out. It felt like I won the jackpot.

Happily, I carried them back on the bus and made an announcement. I said, "Look you guys, water is going to become more important to us than food. And I know a lot of you have been drinking alcohol, which will dehydrate you. Here's some pop (and I started handing them out), save them for later, when you feel thirsty."

Once we were on highway, not surrounded by steep snow laden cliffs, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Traffic once again slowed. This time, around mid-day and after a fitful night's sleep, there was tension brewing among some friends. I kept studying, thankful that the worst of it was over.

When traffic stopped, some of us would get out to stretch our legs. Some of the transport truck drivers apparently were trying to chat up the girls from our two buses. They even instructed some of the guys to "bring us some girls." Thankfully, the guys on our bus were extremely protective and mature - even telling them 'our girls are not for any of that.'

I was proud of these young men. I think all of the girls felt safe and secure because of them.

Then something amazing happened, some of the guys and girls who were outside appeared with bags full of homemade sandwiches which they brought inside the bus for everyone. And they just kept coming. I had to find out who was responsible, so I accompanied one of the girls back outside and the sweetest elderly lady came out to meet us at the side of highway with more food. She said, "I just live over there." (I saw rows of tiny bungalows); and she added, "any of you girls want, you can come take a shower at my house." We declined the offer, saying thank you, but we'd be in Florida soon enough.

I asked her how could we repay her for the 50 or more sandwiches...she took my hands, stared me square in the eyes and said, "I don't want anything from any one of you. Just promise me this, that someday, you will do the same for someone else in need" - spoken in the sweetest southern accent I ever heard.

For the few days left in Florida, I just enjoyed the beach. What shocked me at first (when I was getting ready to have a shower) in my hotel room, were my ankles. They were swollen from sleeping in an upright position for a couple of days. I didn't even recognize them. I slept blissfully though, totally relieved and thankful to hear the sounds of the ocean waves.

One of the kids from the bus had to be hospitalized for dehydration and was promptly flown back to Toronto. There was talk by some about a lawsuit being pursued by some parents. I never did hear any more about that though and everyone just wanted to have some fun now.

Some of the kids partied, went to clubs and drank alcohol in their rooms. I went dancing and enjoyed a bit of the nightlife. I wasn't a big party animal, but I enjoyed my evenings. My big thing was strolling on the beach, it was fairly cool, but I loved it. I was alive and well.