Slicing and Scribing

Have you ever found yourself thrown into a room of unknown faces and wondered “how will I ever survive this semester; I don’t even want to be here let alone sit next to someone that I’m not sure I will even like?”  It was the fall of 1984 and I decided it was time to return to school and finish my college education. I had put it on hold while I was raising my family. I was already working in the health care field in the medical record arena and I had no desire to provide direct patient care; the thought of someone hurling sputum at me turned my stomach.  Obtaining my degree in Health Information Management meant that I had to endure many of the same courses that nursing students suffered through as well.  This simple curriculum of having to take Anatomy and Physiology proved to be a life changing experience for me. I found a friend for life!

For the next academic year, Tuesday and Thursday evenings were dedicated to my Anatomy & Physiology courses. We had a relatively small class and, as usual, on the first class everyone took their seat that would be their “home” for the next 32 weeks. Sitting in class is very similar to the seat one takes in church. You choose a seat and no one better try to sit in it!  I chose a seat close to the door, near the back of the room. Class started promptly at 6:00 pm.

On the first night, several minutes after 6:00, the door opened and a darling little blond rushed in and took the seat next to mine.  I gave her a quick smile but being the studious student that I was, I got back to paying attention to the instructor explaining the course syllabus. I did notice, however, that the cute blond girl smelled like tacos.  The next class period, the girl rushed in again (late) and took her seat next to me again smelling like tacos.  The same scenario occurred over the next few classes but I did notice that the girl was arriving just a few minutes late rather than several.  We were making progress!  

One night on our break, the girl and I struck up a conversation by the water fountain. She told me she was a nursing student; I told her that I was studying medical record (now known as health information management). We both commented on how dreadful each other’s profession sounded. That night we were assigned lab partners and we paired up quickly.  Our project for the semester – dissect a black cat.  Are you kidding me?  Now, I’m no cat lover but I couldn’t imagine having to slice into this once living creature. The girl quickly agreed to do the slicing and I readily agreed to be the scribe  What a great team!  Our friendship began to grow and on lab nights, we would rush through our slicing and scribing and head out for a few drinks.  

We both successfully passed Anatomy and Physiology, graduated from college and followed our chosen professional paths. She's a successful nurse (I know first hand but that's a subject for another story) and I am teaching in the field of my profession.  That dreaded evening course was the beginning of a thirty year friendship. 

I wouldn’t trade this beautiful darlin’ for anything in this world. She’s been my rock but most of all, she forced me to find the fun side in me that had been buried for a very long time.  Our "first set" of children grew up together and we both went on to have a few more kids.  I love her like a sister and her children are like my nieces and nephews and her beautiful grand babies hold a special place in my heart.

You may be wondering why this beautiful girl rushed late into class for every period, nearly out of breath, and smelling like tacos? She had three small children to feed and to make sure they were properly cared for before she left home. This usually meant that she didn’t have time to feed herself. Taco Bell was on the way to the college; the nights she was only a few minutes late, the drive through wasn’t that busy!  By the way, you should have seen the inside of her car but that’s a whole other story!!!

I LOVE YOU LORI LOU!!  Aka Beautiful Darlin’  

The Shell of Time

Friendship is built upon many things: liking the same things, dreaming for the same things, helping each other in need, and even arguing over who will wear the red high heels that day.  Not everyone is blessed with a friendship so deep that it can overcome anything thrown at them, no matter how young they were or how old they would become. 

Two small girls discovered their friendship at a very young age. They were a mere three-years-old when they started playing together on what was then a quiet neighborhood on Madison Avenue.  At first, the play times started as an hour here and there until they were old enough to play on their own with supervision by one of the girls’ mothers or the older siblings.  When that time arrived, the girls developed a strong bond built upon playing Barbie dolls on the front porch or playing house in the “little house”. 

One summer day, the girls decided to take a walk to the corner (it was about as far as they could go alone).  As they sat on the concrete of that corner dreaming about what they might become when they grew up, they spotted a rock that looked like a shell.  That shell would become a milestone that the two young girls would remember for the rest of their lives.

Finding the shell became a game for the two girls.  Out of the blue, one of the girls would say “let’s go find our shell” and off they would go to the corner.  It didn’t matter how long it took to find their shell; they would sit on that corner until one of them did.  The shell was hidden among the other rocks embedded in the concrete and sometimes it took the girls what seemed like hours to find their shell.  It didn’t matter to them; they had to find their shell!

The years passed and the girls grew up, but even as young teens they would take off to find their shell.  The search for the shell was not only a game where the two girls could compete; it was a time to share their inner most thoughts with each other.  As with any neighborhood, improvements had to be made. One day, the girls discovered that the corner block of concrete where their shell lived for so many years was being destroyed.  It was a sad day for the two girls who were now “too old” to find their shell but the memories on that corner have lived on in both of their lives. 

The two girls are now grown women and have shared their story about their shell and it is always done with a smile on their faces. The shell will linger in the girls’ hearts forever. It’s not about the shell; it’s about true friendship.

Grandma Grace's Pot

As young children, our grandmother would let us pick our birthday dinner and I always chose roast beef, potatoes, and carrots.  I looked so forward to that dinner!  I remember the smell of my dinner cooking all afternoon in my grandmother’s “pot”.  As I grew older, I came to realize that no matter what my grandmother made in the pot, it was delicious.  In my mind, she was the most awesome cook ever.  

Thanksgiving was the best holiday at our home and I can still remember waking up to the smell of home cooking. My mother and grandmother had already been up for hours preparing the feast for the day by the time that I would first make my appearance into the kitchen.  I could hear them chatting back and forth about anything from hoping there was enough food to wondering who would be the first to fall asleep after the meal!  Chet always got the vote and then an outburst of laughter followed. One thing that stands out in my memory is seeing the pot on top of the stove and knowing that whatever was in it would be phenomenal. As I approached my teenage years, I would join in the early morning cooking not so much to do any cooking but to partake in the gossip that took place during the cooking!  As an adult with grown children of my own now, I still look back on those special Thanksgiving morning cooking sessions with very fond memories which always included the use of the family pot.

When my grandmother passed away, my mother inherited the pot and to my amazement, whatever she cooked in that pot was delicious!  When I become a mother, I made my mother promise that I would be the one to inherit Grandma Grace’s pot.  We used to joke about her giving the pot to someone else and how I would put a curse on the pot so whatever was cooked in it would burn beyond recognition. She always ended the conversation with “don’t worry, you can have the pot”.  My mother died suddenly and the family pot sat empty for several years.  No one wanted to cook in the pot because the pain of losing our mother was too great to bear and using the pot would only magnify our loss.  

The time came when my brother and I had to start sorting through our parent’s history as we prepared to move our father into a long-term-care facility. I remember reaching into one of the cabinets and pulling out the family pot.  As I held it in my hands rubbing the inside of it and thinking about all of the delicious meals that had been prepared in it, I asked my brother if he minded if I had it and he responded, "of course, you are now the cook of the family".  

Today, I use the pot and no matter what I cook in it, it is delicious.  The pot is stained with love and it will be passed to my only daughter and from there, my oldest granddaughter.  There are over 60 years worth of meals made in the family pot...all of which have been delicious! The best part about the pot, however, is the love used in preparing the meals and the times spent having conversations while doing so. As I pass down the pot to my daughter, I pray that the memories she builds while using the pot will last a lifetime.  My hope is that passing the pot will continue for generations to come.

The Red High Heels

Who would think that a second-hand pair of red high heels would cause so much chaos in two young girls’ lives?  It happened many years ago when little girls playing dress-ups was what little girls did back then.  There were no computers, no electronic video games, or 400 channels on the television to choose from.  In fact, if someone had said that someday the little girls would find their daily conversations would occur via digital signals instead of face-to-face, they would have been looked at each other with puzzlement.  Playing dress-ups, Barbie dolls, “house”, and building your own dream home out of the Sears and Roebuck catalog was all the little girls knew what do to.  Still, it was the best fun that today’s little girls can only dream about.

Instead of playing nicely and sharing the red high heels, these two little girls seemed to find pleasure in fighting over them.  Neither would give in, because to them, they were the most beautiful shoes in the entire world.  In their eyes, when one of the little girls put the high heels on, they transformed into Cinderella.  As hard as the two girls tried, they both wanted to wear the red high heels and, for the most part, the girls shared them but only after a small argument took place.

It’s not sure what happened one evening when the little girls were spending the night together and decided to play dress-ups, but a huge argument pursued.  It didn’t matter that the little girls had plenty of other dress-up clothes to choose from, they each wanted to wear the red high heels.  They had a stash of “real” wedding gowns discontinued from a bridal shop, many pairs of other colored high heels, old purses, furs, and even beautiful costume jewelry.  Each of the little girls wanted those red high heels in the worst way and neither one of them would back down.

Finally, one of the little girls decided to walk home in the dark (a whole two houses away) because a decision of who was going to wear the high heels could not be met.  The other little girl stood crying at the door begging her best friend to come back but the little girl just kept walking without even turning back.  The little girl standing at the door was heartbroken that her best friend would leave and not act like she cared one bit.  Several days passed and neither one of the little girls would apologize (they were quite stubborn little girls!).  

In the end, the little girl who was left standing in the doorway, wrote her best friend a note of apology and you’ll never believe what happened?  All was forgotten and forgiven and the two little girls decided to play dress-up again only this time, both of the little girls wanted the other one to wear the red high heels!  If you would ask one of them today about the red high heels, they will both undoubtedly start to laugh and try to blame each other for that memorable evening.  They both agree, however, that they wish that they could play dress-ups again and go back to days when little girls did what little girls should do when growing up – invent their own fun without television, computers, and electronic games.