The People of Carver County- By: Kelli J Gavin Edition 3

Taryn Collins has lived in Chaska for 16 years. You may recognize her as your local Caribou Drive Thru Barista where she has worked for 2 years.

"My favorite thing about serving the people of Carver County coffee every morning is making relationships with the regular customers. I sometimes think I am making their day with coffee. Their faces light up and it is the best thing. "  To which I responded, yes indeed, she is making my day and my face lit up because of the great coffee!

Taryn is friendly and personal and when asked about summer, "I love summer and going to the beaches and especially Lake Riley. I like to hang out with friends and enjoy the fresh air."  After our terribly long Minnesota winter, bring on the SUMMER!

It Isn't Jared Leto or Zac Efron

I told my kids this morning that we were going to go to a few garage sales and then head to the library like we do every Saturday morning.  We got a bit of a late start as I was slightly distracted by the Royal Wedding coverage and for a moment believed that I could be a princess. Then remembered I am well past 40, have been married for 23 years and have two kids.  So those dreams have been dashed.  I digress. With coffee in hand, the three of us proceeded to leave the house with lofty lists of what each of us hoped to find at the sales.  Zach was thrilled to find two dvd movies. He was slightly disappointed that they weren't vcr tapes as that is his desired format. Yet was elated to read to me each episode that could found on said dvd's.  Lily was convinced that I would buy her a creepy $30 doll as an early birthday gift. October 4th is her birthday.  Creepy doll was left on the table for the next child to admire and beg their mom.  But Lily and I were able to have a great conversation about the fact that she is going to be 12 years old and will probably not play with dolls much longer. "Oh come on mom. You said you played with your Cabbage Patch Doll and your Barbie's way past 12 and just didn't tell anyone."  All of this in front of the homeowner trying to sell the doll.  We settled for a $1.50 bracelet making kit and I made a bee line to the car.

We did however find some nice clothing for Lily, a pair of shorts for Zach and math books to supplement our summer curriculum.
Lily also seemed to manage to convince me to buy a super pokey and mean looking cactus that she "will replant and water and totally take care of and keep in her room" was a good idea.  That remains to be seen.  Zach thought the vintage Disney wood puzzles were a sight to behold, yet I couldn't merit spending 45 dollars of vintage Disney wood puzzles. So once again, those were left on the table.

We drove past the new Hyvee in Shakopee and Zach exclaims, " Look at the building!"  Indeed. Why are they building a huge apartment complex right next to the freeway like that right behind the store? It looks like a monstrosity. And who would want to deal with the all the road noise of 169?  I think Zach was more focused on the white paper that covered the incomplete building than the ridiculous size.

While heading towards the railroad tracks two cars braked hard in front of me preparing for an immediate unanticipated left hand turn.  Lily and I were convinced that that the huge red pickup truck barreling behind us was never going to observe that I had come to a complete stop because of the two turning cars. Another perfect example to talk to Lily about safety while driving and not being distracted.  I also enjoyed conversations about not wearing white until after Memorial Day, and not after Labor Day.  And  the fact that chivalry isn't dead and a door being opened or hand being extended from a man should always be welcomed warmly and with a thank you. These are things you teach 11 year old girls, including constant reminders about how to sit like a lady on bleachers in a dress during a choir concert.

When we got to the library, Zach was pleased when there wasn't another child who could possibly become disgruntled in sight. He also found that his favorite reference computer was occupied so a quick dvd search occurred before sitting at his favorite computer
number 15.  Lily was tickled pink when she remembered her ear buds for computer use as she abhors the huge uncomfortable headphones provided. I did inform her a time or two in the past that using the computer at the library wasn't required. She could look at books and movies like everyone else.  A swift eye roll was observed before a prompt ear bud placement happened.

A young gentleman with an ill suited man bun entered the library and sat directly across from the kids. Lily approaches me with a smirk on her face, " Where are your garden scissors when you need them?"And she started to walk away laughing. She is absolutely 100% my daughter in case anyone was wondering.  I told her not every man with a man bun will look like Jared Leto. I could see her wheels turning and believed her next question would be if I have ever thought about what Zac Efron would like with a man bun.  She didn't ask, probably one of a million things she thinks about daily but doesn't vocalize, because she knows me well and understands I have lost my ability to contain laughter in public places.

So our time here at the library has come to a close. We must check out a few books and return home before Hangry becomes a real thing for Zach.  This is just another Saturday morning brought to you by the Gavin's.

Josh's 8 Week Update

Josh, my husband of almost 23 years, has been struggling with a severe equilibrium imbalance for 8 weeks. He isn't able to work, drive or do pretty much anything. The world is constantly moving and the only relief he finds is when he is deep in slumber each night.  He is miserable, bored and feels absolutely horrible.  He will have episodes where the world turns upside down and stays that way and often then the panic sets in. 

Josh has seen 7 doctors. Today the 8th. In January, Josh had a screw placed in his skull to anchor a vibrational hearing aide. (Born deaf in his left ear, this hearing aide uses his skull and jaw bone to tranfer vibrations to his hearing ear to enable him to hear more.)  Weeks later, he became constantly dizzy. He was diagnosed with vertigo and told it would get better soon. There has never been a case reported where someone with a titanium screw implant has reported excessive continual dizziness. Weeks continued to pass. He has been diagnosed with an tumor in his left ear canal from a cat scan.  Actual measurements of the acoustic neuroma were given. And the next specialist said that an acoustic neuroma can not be diagnosed by cat scan, and that the MRI revealed absolutely nothing. He has sought chiropractic care.  It didn't help at all. Yesterday, when he went through additional dizzy and balance testing, the audiologist and ent surgeon both agreed that they believe this was caused by virus. Months ago, he had a minor cold.  They believe the virus caused inflammation in his right ear canal and that the inflammation hasn't decreased and is causing the severe imbalance.  When asked if it is possible that we are missing something, anything, something rare even, both doctors both said yes, it is possible but they do not think so. 

Today Josh went to Vestibular Rehabilitation Therapy.  The therapist will try to help him to teach his body to counteract the extreme equilibrium imbalance and hopefully bring him some relief. There isn't anything left for Josh to do.  This is it.  The U of M has now offered to see him to see if the head of the ENT department can help him after refusing care because they were not able to diagnose him.  Sure, we will book the appointment, but will they be able to tell us anything? Will they be able to figure it out? Is is really just the end result of inflammation from a virus. Will they be able bring relief to Josh? Even a little bit? 

Josh exited the therapists office defeated.  He needs to see a different therapist. She ruled out BPPV and knew she couldn't help. No charge for today's appointment. I shed a few tears on the way to elevator, Josh couldn't even speak as he took very small deliberate steps behind me.  He is now not scheduled until the 23rd of May to see the specialist. We were told he was scheduled with the specialist today. Another hurry up and wait day. Today has been extra difficult for Josh and he has retreated to bed. There is nothing more he can do. 

We have researched Vestibular Therapy Exercises on google this evening.  ( He has already done all of the other exercises and maneuvers that typically help vertigo patients.) Not knowing if any of them will help, Josh is still willing to try. He is willing to try anything to bring even the slightest relief. He can't sit and wait and hope his condition will improve before the 23rd.  Because these past 8 weeks, like I said, he has only gotten worse.

I want to thank our family and friends who have come to our aid. Who have prayed relentlessly. Who have stopped by for visits when Josh is able to be upright to help break up the monotony. (He describes this as the worst form of Groundhog's Day.) Thank you for your offers to help and for telling me what you are going to do rather than asking me what you can do to help. Thank you for your patience when I don't respond right away to emails and text messages. Thank you for speaking truth and praying against a spirit of discouragement. Thank you for loving our family as you always have. 

The Gift of Fear

I turned on my phone this morning and checked the temperature, took a quick glance at the happenings of the day on my calendar and wondered if the rain was going to hold off so that I could get outside for a bit and work in the garden beds. I clicked on Facebook and the first thing I read was a dear friends post about almost being mugged in St. Paul last night.  She was hurt when her cross body purse strap broke and the heft of purse bounced back as slammed her in the side of the head.  She is shaken, in pain, tired and exhausted and was facing a difficult day ahead.  

I reached out to her first to tell her that I love her and that I was so very sorry that this happened. She has decided to not report the incident yet keep a very watchful eye. 

I reminded her of the book The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker. Originally written in 1997, it immediately pushed to the number one spot on The New York Times Best Seller List. Reprinted many times over, De Becker has also written a number of additional Best Selling Books, Protecting the Gift and Fear Less being among them.  The Gift deals with understanding that fear can be a gift or a curse, and how to understand the difference. It arms the reader with facts of how each person develops fear and how each person deals with it differently.  It also talks about how to protect yourself and your loved ones from violence.  

I often do not recommend books such as this but have learned that books like this one matter greatly.  For most of us, we do not live in a state where we feel we constantly have to be on guard. We don't feel fearful of other people that we pass on the street, in parking lots or even at work or school.  We don't always feel the need to grip our keys in such a manner that we could fight someone off or brush up on our self defense skills.  But as any violent crime study or person in law enforcement and defense will tell you, it is still very important to be knowledgeable and prepared even if it happens to you only once in a lifetime. 

My friend didn't wake up yesterday morning believing Tuesday was the day she would be attacked. She didn't wake up and give herself a pep talk in the mirror before leaving her apartment.  She did live out her day as she always does. Loving and taking care of her amazing son, texting her fiance, chatting with friends, preparing for the busyness of Wednesday meetings.  She went to bed last night crying a bucket of tears and experiencing pain and being filled with fear. 

This morning, she woke and decided that she would arm herself. She is a strong woman who wrote about her experience, what she will do going forward and made an actual decision to not let fear consumer her.  Surely, there will be tears when the memory floods her mind. But that fear will not overtake her.  She is armed with knowledge and awareness. She is armed with the gift of fear. 

There have been many times in my life when I found that I possessed the Gift of Fear without even knowing what it was.  

When I was about 15, my dad and my sister and I were at a movie theater. The lobby was very full as many movies were preparing to let out and the next movies to start at the top of the hour.  I casually held onto a soda as my dad held the popcorn he purchased. As more and more people exited the crowded theaters, the noise and energy levels increased as I felt the crowd slightly move forward in anticipation of entering the movie. I felt physical pressure from behind and stepped forward a half step. The pressure was still there. On my butt and low back. I turned to make sure that it wasn't my dad trying to usher me forward. It wasn't my father. It was a man standing behind me smiling. I winced and tears poked at the corners of my eyes.  The man moved his hand ever so slightly and cupped my entire cheek. I stepped forward as far as I could without stepping on the person in front of me.

The mans hands were still firmly placed on my backside.  I was frozen. Frozen in fear.  At 15, I had yet to develop my voice.  My voice that could have yelled, "Stop touching me. Move away." My voice should have said, "Dad, help me."  I was frozen.  I didn't move. I didn't speak. In those few seconds, I kept thinking, no, he isn't doing this. He is just being pushed from behind also.  But I knew that wasn't true. In a split second, my heart racing, I stepped in front of my dad, inserting my body in the small space between him and person in front of him. Tears filling my eyes, a silent scream never came.  My dad's instincts took over. He clothes lined my left shoulder and pushed me out of harms way as he powered to his right in front of the man who had been touching me. The man was almost an entire head taller than my dad.

Because I wasn't able to say a word, my dad didn't know what happened or what was making me act in such a way. But seeing me cry was all he needed to understand that something wasn't right and that possible danger loomed. My father raised his chin and looked that man in the eye. Tears pouring down my cheeks from about 4 feet away by then, I saw my father stare him down until the man said, " Excuse me, " and quickly pushed past. Shaking, I stood there. My dad seemed to take a single step back to me. He placed his arm around my shoulder and ushered me to side where fewer people were congregating. 

The only words I could form were, "He was touching me. He was too close. I couldn't handle it."  My dad hugged my shaking shoulders, told me I did the right thing. He said, always flee, always ask for help. He affirmed me. I told him I was scared.  He shook his head up and down.  He wiped my tears and asked what I wanted to do.  I couldn't imagine leaving. I wanted to sit down. We went into the movie. I sat through an entire movie. And to this day, I couldn't tell you the movie that we watched that night. 

My dad and I never talked about that night again.  I kind of wish that we had.  I didn't tell my mom what happened, and I don't think he did either. My dad didn't even know. He just knew that I was shaken to the core. I did tell my best friend and then I told my husband years later when I was writing an article about the frequency of unwanted sexual advances directed at women.  Both of them had the same response. Why didn't you scream?  This is why I knew the term Frozen With Fear was a very real thing. 

When the words will not come. When a scream can't find it's way. My mind and body understood what was happening. I was being touched, groped, against my will. My father was able to create a physical barrier without even knowing what he was protecting me from. 

A few months back, my husband and I and our kids were at a concert at church.  One of our favorite bands, we were all so excited. In the crowded lobby, we stood for quite some time waiting to get in and get the best seats that would work for us.  The doors were not yet open, yet I felt a bit of a press from behind. And then I felt a full on press from behind. A man had aligned his entire body body behind me so that not an inch of his body from the waist down wasn't touching me.  My husband standing clearly to my left wasn't the man behind me. My children were in front of me. I turned and saw another creepy smile.  Another creepy smile of a man taking liberties because he thought he could in such a crowded space. In a church, he thought this would be acceptable? Anywhere? Ever? 

I leaned forward and said to my husband, "Help me, this man." And I jutted my chin in the creepers direction. My husband immediately took action, took my wrist and pulled me to where he was standing and inserted his body to where I had been standing. The man immediately stepped back as not to "spoon" my husband standing up. In stepping back, he stumbled on the feet of the person behind him.  I said, " Oh, be careful, " in a less than kind tone.  My husband stood there, firm stance facing the door continuing to physically protect me by shielding my body with his.  The man sunk back into the crowd and I didn't see him again. 

I wish that these two instances had never happened. But they are a reality for women every day.  Whether 15 or 42 years of age, situations occur which make women feel fearful.  But that fear is right, that fear protects, that fear enables physical safety to occur because of fleeing.  I am thankful for that fear. I am thankful that I have been able to use that fear, that gut instinct, as as a gift, not a curse. 

Over these past 25+ years, I have developed a voice. No, I will not be able to avoid every situation that presents possible danger.  But I am more aware, have fine tuned my scream and am now able to ask for immediate help when needed.  But what do we do when we are alone like my friend was last night? You do what she did. She picked herself up, pounding head and broken purse in hand, and carried on.  She called in the Calvary of family and friends to help her. Those that love her daily, encourage her relentlessly and will continue to do so. She wrote about her experience, what she was thinking and feeling, and came up with a game plan if she were to encounter him or someone else that wishes to do her harm ever again. 

She chose not to be a victim of fear. A woman frozen in fear. Her voice and ability to talk about what happened, not only assists in her own processing and healing from a horrible circumstance, but it can also be used to fuel a flame in someone else. It can be used to encourage someone who has yet to discover their own voice, inspire someone who hasn't yet been able to stand up for themselves. Our life experiences equip us and others with the knowledge that is needed to move forward. And moving forward is exactly what my friend plans on doing.  

My love to you today and always sweet girl. 

People of Carver County - By: Kelli J Gavin Edition 2

"My name is Jeff Olmsted. I have worked at the Chaska Library for 12 years and I have lived here for 5 years.  I feel a part of the community because I live and work in it. I recognized 3 people walking to work today that I see all of the time. They ask me if I am heading to work. I like being in a place where we know each other. I feel it is easier to do my job by knowing and living here. Here at the Chaska Library, we have over 50 total years of Librarian experience serving Chaska.  It is fun being a part of this team. I feel invested. I also love having a library close to my home. Some day when I retire, I may move back to downtown Minneapolis and hope that there will be always be a library."

Do Not Point At Me

In January of 1995, I started working at a financial institution. I was 19 and preparing to be married in June.  I had moved home from college to Forest Lake when the term ended in December of 1994 and was so discouraged.  Not only had I ran out of money and had to drop out of college, the job that I had moved home for had been given to someone else. Someone long term. To someone who wasn't getting married.  I asked around and spoke with a few small business owners, but there were no jobs to be had.  I didn't have a driver's license or a car and was so set on that job close to home, that having a Plan B was something that hadn't even crossed my mind.

I cried to my future husband and didn't know what to do. He did.  He called his mom who was in Florida on vacation over Christmas Break and together they came up with a plan.  I would move in with my future mother in law and find a job closer to her home. Where businesses and jobs abounded, I knew this was an excellent idea and was so thankful to have this opportunity.  I believe my mom was a bit saddened to learn that she wouldn't have the next six months with me, but totally understood my predicament. My husband helped me move all of my belongings to his mom's house for the second time in two weeks. I decided to walk into each business down the main street in town and ask if they were hiring. Since I moved home for a bank job that I thought would be very interesting, I was drawn to the bank right on the corner. 

At my first stop, they weren't just hiring, they were in need of someone to start almost right away.  They needed someone who was flexible with hours. Could open, possibly close, and maybe even work a split shift and be available to work most Saturdays. I could do that. I could work a ton of hours. Now that I lived close, I could absolutely make this work and spend the next six months saving as much money as possible for our pending nuptials.

I started about two weeks later and I loved it. I loved being a bank teller.  The customers, the service requirements, the constant attention to detail and the need for accuracy. I was meant to be a banker! I worked with a couple of sweet older mom like coworkers who were intelligent and helpful.  The other young woman who also worked as tellers were a riot. They were funny, personable and competitive. Often departmental goals were established and we all fiercely tried to outdo each other.

I enjoyed working with my direct supervisor and branch manager. And then they were both transferred. A new teller supervisor arrived and I was at a loss.  Temperamental, moody, self conscious, paranoid and often down right rude, she baffled me. She was a grown woman who struggled to keep herself together and it affected her work. She was often late and unapologetic and relied on me always being on time to make sure that the bank would open on time, and that drawers would balance at the end of the day.  I had a knack for finding errors and was able to help other tellers balance if they were having problems. She approached me one evening and said, "I know you want my job. And everyday you make me look bad.  I have my eye on you. Don't think I am going down without a fight. " She stomped off in her too big black high heels. What just happened? I was so confused.  Apparently, rather than acknowledging and admitting that her work ethic had slipped and that she needed to put in more effort, she decided to focus on my success in the workplace as a direct threat.

I tried to stay out of her way.  I did what she asked and always completed my work, but never entered into another personal conversation with her. I then was confronted with rumors of her badmouthing me. She had told my other coworkers that I was snob.  She said that I "looked down my nose at her".  I laughed at this. I wasn't being rude. I am very tall and she was really short. Maybe I needed to work on my facial expressions when face to face with her.

I was called into the branch managers office late one afternoon and was panicked when I found my teller supervisor already sitting across the desk. The two women wanted to talk with me about what it meant to be a young professional professional.  I kid you not, I sat there for the next half hour listening to the two of them pontificate on how when they were young and starting out, they were smart enough to know who were their friends and who they should watch out for. I was regaled with tales of days gone by of "big meanie" bosses and reminded that neither of them were big or meanies.  They both laughed much harder and longer than necessary at that joke.  I stared in disbelief. I wasn't sure if this was a pep talk or if they were reprimanding me. These were the first two women that I had encountered in my young life that weren't there to help me, only to hinder.  I had been warned about women like this. Warned that they would be jealous, make things up if they thought it necessary, pretend to be your friend and then use everything you said against you. These were the women that would throw you under the bus.  And my teller supervisor did just that and the branch manager believed her. 

I sat there silently wondering if it would ever end.  My teller supervisor used everything that she thought and felt about me and turned into false stories of what I had done and said. I was told my lateness was affecting my job. I was told my relationships with fellow tellers were difficult at best.  I was told that it took me too long to complete my daily work and customers were complaining about my interactions with them.  Not one of these things were true about me. Yet they were all true about my supervisor. 

I don't know where the ability to stand up for myself came from, but right there and then, I possessed every word I needed to say. 
"I feel that I have been ambushed.  I have now worked at this bank for almost a year.  I love my job, I love the work and I really enjoy my coworkers. I have referred more new accounts, loans and investments than any other teller.  I rank the highest out of any other branch employee on customer surveys and have never once been late for work.  I am the youngest employee at this branch by far and I feel that I have been targeted to take the blame for something. I am just not sure what it is.  I believe you don't like me Helena. (name changed) I am sorry if you do not. I wasn't under impression that you needed to.  But next time, please approach me with something you can substantiate.  Something real. Something credible.  Please stop pointing your finger at me for everything you are doing wrong. You are the one that is late 4 out of 5 days a week. I have been covering for you. I am the one completing all of the work you have not even attempted to accomplish. And I dare you to produce even customer complaint. I have learned a lot from you.  And I now I feel that I can no longer do so because you have apparently no faith in me whatsoever. If we are done here, there is a line of customers waiting for me."

I stood and exited the managers office. I am still not sure this to day how I was able to say that to her and have it not even dawn on me that I could loose my job for insubordination. I continued helping customers until the end of the day. I had heard the glass paneled office door close when I had exited.  I also glanced over my left shoulder a few times and found that tears were being wiped and arms where flailing in frustration.  Then I heard the yelling. And the swearing.  I had made Helena so upset by standing up to her that she completely lost it. 

I finished working that day, balanced out, locked up the bank, just like every other day.  I went home and called my husband at work to share with him what had happened that day.  He was in shock. What happened? You said what?!  Kelli, you are going to get fired!
I panicked.  I was absolutely going to loose my job.

Saturday and and Sunday passed without event.  I dreaded Monday. I thought, yes, today is the day I loose my job. Tuesday, okay, today is the day. It never happened. Helena didn't speak to me once except to ask me when I would be back from my long mid day break as I was working another split shift. However, Wednesday came and Helena didn't show up for work.  Two of the other tellers were joking about what a state she must be in racing for work and how she was probably going to be in a mood all day once she got there. Helena never came to work that day.  The branch manager came behind the teller line during a slow few moments and informed us that Helena had been transferred to another branch where she was needed closer to home.  When she told us about what was happening and that another teller supervisor was in the process of being hired, she looked nervous. She addressed each person making the point to look at each one, but failed to make eye contact with me.

Later that afternoon, the branch manager asked if she could speak with me. I followed her, but she walked right past her office and continued down the long dark hallway towards the back unused offices. "I owe you an apology.  Helena had been telling me the last two months that you were doing a poor job. I took her word for it.  I didn't make a point of looking at balancing sheets, time cards, customer surveys or to speak to your coworkers. That is my mistake. You are a very good employee and I am glad you work here. But you did not come to me. You didn't tell me that Helena is late all of the time. You didn't tell me about how rude she is to you and your coworkers. You never once told me that you were doing her work too.  Why didn't you come to me."

I was baffled. "I didn't know that I could. This is the first real job that I have had. I didn't know that I should come and talk to you.  I understood that she was my supervisor and that some supervisors were better than others. She isn't one of them." The branch manager told me that she wanted all bank employees to know that she has an open door policy and the only reason this happened was because I didn't say anything.

No.  That isn't the reason.  That isn't the reason at all. I was convinced the reason this happened was because women can be petty and cliquish.  This happened because the branch manager wanted to be friends rather than she wanted to be the boss. She listened to the complaints of one person rather than check the facts. And in all of these complaints, there was proof that Helena was actually lying.  All it would have taken was just a little digging.

I learned two very important lessons. First, no one ever wants to take the blame and it is easier to point fingers than to address your role in a situation. And second, document everything.  I don't mean to get other people in trouble. Document everything so that you have proof. Often you will never need it. I learned that day to document everything for the possibility of needing it. I kept a notebook at home, never brought it to work. If something happened with a coworker, with a customer, with my supervisor or manager, I would write down the date, approximate time and a brief description of what happened. I, at 20 years of age, never wanted to experience something like this again. Especially when I knew I hadn't done anything wrong.

Two months later, I was offered a promotion to work in new accounts and in investments. I was offered a promotion by the same bank manager that told me I was at fault for never saying anything about the situation with Helena. I excelled at my new job and loved it. I loved that was given this amazing opportunity to be and account rep and investment representative. And only 2 months after I thought I would loose my job because I had found my voice for the first time and stood up for myself by being truthful and professional. Never point fingers. Never speak poorly of others.  State facts. Be kind. Be professional. Be a real woman in the workplace, in life, and stand up for yourself.  You will never regret it.