{"id":9285,"date":"2018-05-17T12:08:04","date_gmt":"2018-05-17T16:08:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/newsite\/?p=9285"},"modified":"2018-05-17T12:34:11","modified_gmt":"2018-05-17T16:34:11","slug":"becoming-a-fluco","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/2018\/05\/becoming-a-fluco\/","title":{"rendered":"Becoming a Fluco"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/strong><\/p>\n

By Ruthann Carr, Correspondent<\/strong><\/p>\n

I moved to Fluvanna 10 years ago, but it just recently felt like home.<\/strong>
\nAnd while I first attributed that only to the kindness of strangers, I realize it was 10 years in the making.<\/strong>
\nI\u2019ll explain.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Beginnings<\/em><\/strong>
\nI spent the first 40-plus years of my life in one city: Akron, Ohio. I was born and raised there.<\/strong>
\nI met my first friend, Colleen, when I was 5. Her father had just died and her mother worked as a waitress at the Firestone Country Club. It was unusual in those days to have a mother who worked outside the home.<\/strong>
\nWith the trauma of her father\u2019s death and starting school, Colleen was nervous. My mother told me to wait for her outside our kindergarten class and walk home with her.<\/strong>
\nI was not happy.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know what social game I had going on at 5, but somehow I saw Colleen as putting a crimp in it.<\/strong>
\nBut that friendship blossomed and thank the Lord we are still best friends though we live hours apart.<\/strong>
\nI had my first date in Akron \u2013 and my first job, my first apartment, my first heartbreak. It\u2019s where I learned to ride a bike and to climb a tree and to dream.<\/strong>
\nAkron was where I met my first husband and where we raised our three children.I worked as a medical secretary in Akron hospitals. As our children grew, another woman I knew from the Parent Teacher Association asked me to partner with her in starting a box-lunch delivery business. We ran it successfully for seven years, delivering mainly to public school teachers.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Everywhere I went in that fairly big city it seemed I ran into someone I knew.<\/strong>
\nWhen my oldest graduated from high school, I decided to go back to Kent State University to finish my journalism degree.<\/strong>
\nI wrote for newspapers in Youngstown, Warren and Cleveland.<\/strong>
\nThen I was laid off.<\/strong><\/p>\n

After months of looking, the only job offer I got was from the Northwest Indiana Times, just outside of Chicago.<\/strong>
\nI moved to Crown Point, Ind., thinking it would just be a place where I got more reporting experience before coming back to Akron to work at my hometown newspaper, the Beacon Journal<\/em>.<\/strong><\/p>\n

But life has a way of altering my best laid plans.<\/strong>
\nI lived there for almost five years and during that time got divorced.<\/strong>
\nMy children were all adults at this point. In fact, my daughter had just given birth to my first grandson. But they did not take it well. I guess no matter how old you are when it happens, it\u2019s hard when your parents divorce.<\/strong>
\nFor some reason, Crown Point did feel like home.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I had a job I loved and I became good friends with another single woman who worked at the newspaper. It was a small town of about 15,000 and I lived on the lovely, historic center square. I became a fixture at the library, antique shops and restaurants near my apartment.<\/strong>
\nDuring this time I became reacquainted with Jeff, a good friend from my childhood.<\/strong>
\nHe lived in Fluvanna and he, too, was recently divorced.<\/strong>
\nEventually we talked about marriage and I looked for a job in Virginia. He had two elementary school-aged children whom he was determined to live near as he had joint custody.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I was thrilled when the new director at Region Ten CSB in Charlottesville decided to hire me in a job he created handling communications for the agency.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Going South<\/em><\/strong>
\nI found an affordable apartment in Scottsville and moved just before Thanksgiving 2007.<\/strong>
\nWhile Jeff wasn\u2019t from Virginia, he\u2019d lived here for about 15 years. He had friends here. Those friends were welcoming to me. But they were his friends.<\/strong>
\nIn July 2008 we married and I moved into the house he bought in Fluvanna.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The future looked bright \u2013 for about a month.<\/strong>
\nIn August, my father died.<\/strong>
\nIn October, Region Ten cut my position because of the recession.<\/strong>
\nIn December, my mother died.<\/strong><\/p>\n

None of the things I tried to do to become a member of my new community bore much fruit.<\/strong>
\nI couldn\u2019t find a church that fit.<\/strong>
\nI came to realize that after being raised Catholic and going to Catholic school for 12 years, then becoming a born-again Christian and fully immersing myself in church during my 30-year first marriage, I may have entered the post-church phase of my life.<\/strong>
\nThat added to my feeling unmoored.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I wanted and needed a job. <\/strong>
\nI searched and searched and searched. <\/strong>
\nDuring those first few years no one was hiring.<\/strong>
\nWell, they weren\u2019t hiring me \u2013 a newcomer northerner of a certain age.<\/strong>
\nAs someone once explained to me, Charlottesville was full of people with PhDs waiting tables and working in nurseries (the horticulture kind).<\/strong>
\nI told everyone I was looking for work.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Jeff\u2019s co-worker told me she saw the Fluvanna Review<\/em> was looking for reporters and maybe I should apply.<\/strong>
\nI spent 10 years writing for daily newspapers with circulations much bigger than the Daily Progress<\/em> and now I\u2019m supposed to write for a local weekly?<\/strong>
\nOh how the mighty have fallen.<\/strong>
\n(I never said I didn\u2019t have a bad attitude).<\/strong>
\nSo I swallowed my pride and applied. I figured it would get me out of the house and out of my head.<\/strong>
\nAnd I\u2019d have the added benefit of learning about my adopted community.<\/strong>
\nI was even happier when I met the publisher, Carlos Santos. He made a career writing for the Richmond Times Dispatch<\/em>.<\/strong>
\nWe got each other.<\/strong>
\nSo in 2010 I started covering the Board of Supervisors. Since then I\u2019ve written about crime, schools, politics and anything else my editor assigns me. I\u2019ve interviewed incredibly interesting people.<\/strong>
\nAnd I enjoy it.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I continued looking for full-time work with benefits.<\/strong>
\nThen, any other kind of work with steady hours.<\/strong>
\nAnd I found plenty of jobs. I was even hired by plenty.<\/strong>
\nI just couldn\u2019t keep them.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I worked as a cashier, a test proctor, and a child-care provider in an after-school program.<\/strong>
\nI worked with domestic violence survivors, parents who\u2019d lost custody of their children because of abuse or neglect, and for a school for children and adults with autism.<\/strong>
\nI voluntarily left a couple of those jobs to move on to a better one.<\/strong>
\nBut I got fired from most of them.<\/strong>
\nAll of this led to much soul-searching.<\/strong><\/p>\n

What was wrong with me?<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you\u2019re like me and hoping for answers, I got nothing.<\/strong>
\nI volunteered.<\/strong>
\nI became a master gardener and worked with the children\u2019s garden at Carysbrook.<\/strong>
\nI became a court appointed special advocate and worked for Piedmont CASA.<\/strong>
\nI took part in the Fluvanna County Leadership Development program and graduated in the 11th class.<\/strong>
\nAll the while helping parent my step-children and seeing them both graduate from Fluvanna High School.<\/strong>
\nBut I still felt unmoored and like I was just limping along.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Then the office manager job with the Fluvanna Chamber of Commerce opened up in March 2017.<\/strong>
\nI\u2019d applied for the job years before and didn\u2019t get it.<\/strong>
\nBut I decided to bite the bullet and apply again.<\/strong>
\nThey hired me.<\/strong>
\nSo for a year now I\u2019ve been at the helm of the Chamber and writing for the Review.<\/em> <\/strong>
\nTogether they make a more-than-full-time job.<\/strong><\/p>\n

But I realized a few months ago that in one year of working for the Chamber I\u2019ve made more lasting friendships than I did in eight years writing for the paper. <\/strong>
\nIt\u2019s nothing against the Review<\/em>. <\/strong>
\nWhen I look back on my years as a reporter, I never became friends with people I interviewed. <\/strong>
\nEven though I met people in their homes often during some of the most difficult times in their lives, it rarely led to a friendship. <\/strong>
\nI\u2019m just part of their story for that moment.<\/strong>
\nAs it should be. <\/strong><\/p>\n

But at the Chamber, I\u2019m actively working to help people start and grow their business. <\/strong>
\nAnd all the years of covering Board of Supervisors meetings and School Board meetings and political races haven\u2019t been for naught. <\/strong>
\nNeither has my involvement in Master Gardeners or Leadership Development or any other job or volunteer work I\u2019ve done since moving to Virginia. <\/strong>
\nNot a day goes by at the Chamber where I don\u2019t draw from that body of knowledge.<\/strong><\/p>\n

A Fluco<\/em><\/strong>
\nOne evening last fall I was driving my 2003 Hyundai Elantra (that has seen better days). As I drove around the circle at Routes 53 and 600, it died. I had just enough power to pull off the road onto the berm. <\/strong><\/p>\n

I had no idea what I was going to do.<\/strong><\/p>\n

My husband works in Charlottesville and wouldn\u2019t be home until many hours later.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I contemplated leaving it there and walking the five-plus miles home. <\/strong>
\nJust then, a man in a huge pick-up truck pulled off the road in front of me. <\/strong>
\nHe got out and asked if I needed help. <\/strong>
\nTogether we figured out the radiator sprung a leak. <\/strong>
\nEven though he was on his way home after a long day at work, he said he\u2019d go get a container of water to fill up the radiator long enough to get me home. <\/strong>
\nAs he drove off, I thanked God for this man\u2019s kindness. <\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"Then another car pulled up. <\/strong>
\nA young woman got out and asked if I needed help. <\/strong>
\nShe had just gotten off work as a home health aide. <\/strong>
\nI told her someone was getting water and would be back. <\/strong>
\nShe said she\u2019d stay with me until he returned. <\/strong>
\n\u201cWe women have to stick together,\u201d she said. <\/strong><\/p>\n

After a few minutes, a sheriff\u2019s deputy pulled up asking if I needed help. <\/strong>
\nTurns out he knew the young woman. <\/strong>
\nHe parked and stayed until my first angel of mercy returned. <\/strong>
\nAll of a sudden, instead of an inconvenience it felt like a party.<\/strong>
\nThe man returned with a jug of water. <\/strong>
\nTogether we added water to the radiator until it stopped boiling and hissing and the thermostat was in normal range. <\/strong>
\n\u201cNow keep the heater on as you drive home,\u201d the first man said. \u201cThat will help keep the engine cool.\u201d<\/strong>
\nI thanked him and tried to give him some money for his trouble. <\/strong>
\nHe wouldn\u2019t take it. <\/strong><\/p>\n

The woman said she\u2019d follow me home, just in case.<\/strong>
\nThe deputy waited until we pulled onto the road and then drove off. <\/strong>
\nI drove home, with my guardian angel right behind me. <\/strong>
\nShe pulled into my driveway and I motioned for her to wait. <\/strong>
\nI got out of the car and gave her a hug. She wouldn\u2019t accept my money either. <\/strong>
\n\u201cWe women have to stick together,\u201d she said.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I wrote down all of their names, intending to write a column or letter to the editor, but never did. <\/strong>
\nI\u2019ve since lost the notebook I wrote their names in.<\/strong>
\nI intended to say how their act of kindness made me feel like I was home. <\/strong>
\nFinally. <\/strong>
\nI realize it takes time to fit in. <\/strong><\/p>\n

I realize that because I never gave up (although I did my share of moaning and complaining) I laid the groundwork. <\/strong>
\nBut those three Flucos did more than anything to make me feel like I am part of Fluvanna and Fluvanna is a part of me. <\/strong>
\nThank you.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Ruthann Carr, Correspondent I moved to Fluvanna 10 years ago, but it just recently felt like home. And while I first attributed that only to the kindness of strangers, I realize it was 10 years in the making. I\u2019ll explain. Beginnings I spent the first 40-plus years of my life in one city: Akron, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[134],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9285","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-columns"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9285"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9285"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9285\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9290,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9285\/revisions\/9290"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9285"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9285"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fluvannareview.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9285"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}