My Besties Are Gone

Two of my closest friends seven years of my life were The Reel Twins, Barb and Bev. We were besties from the sixth grade through graduation. We went to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) together every Sunday night. We had many sleepovers together. Barb and I were roommates at a summer Journalism Institute at IU Bloomington for two weeks. We worked closely together on the WigWam (yearbook). We hung out together at the Miramar Swim Club every summer. I always remembered their birthday, November 19. I don't know why, because I never remembered anyone else's. College separated us and we went on our individual paths of careers, marriages, divorces, children, and grandchildren. Decades later we found each other via email and 'reconnected'. Although we never saw each other again, we 'talked' via the keyboard and it was quite fun, until Bev became ill with COPD. What a loss when she passed away. Barb and I commiserated the loss via our keyboards. It was like I had lost an arm. Just a few months ago, Barb wrote that she wasn't feeling well. Soon she learned that she had cancer. We once again spent hours writing each other until she became too weak to go to her computer (in her basement.) I didn't want to consider that was a sign of what was to come. Today, I learn that I have lost my other arm. I will miss your emails, Barb. You handled your illness just as you handled the other 'mountains' in your life.....with class. You were beautiful, classy and so very sweet. You will be missed by so many....especially me.

A Letter From My Dad

A letter from my dad. One stormy January afternoon while I was in my senior year at college I received a phone call from him 'ordering' me to catch a bus and come home that night. I did, of course, and when I got there I found that he had bought me a new 1963 little red Corvair to drive for my quickly approaching student teaching assignment. Three problems: 1. I had to be back in classes (90 miles away) the next morning. 2. There was a blizzard outside. 3. The car was a 'four on the floor' and I had only driven automatics. We bundled up and I got behind the wheel and he in the passenger seat. We started up Shortridge Road toward Washington Street (Hwy 40), turned left and drove to Kitley Ave. where I did my best at 'clutching' and shifting gears going north on Kitley. When he thought I had proven that I knew what to do, we turned around and came home. I drove back to Terre Haute the next day, made it to class on time, then took time to check out my new car. This letter was in the glove compartment. Dad had left me written instructions re: the car. (More proof of his penmanship and 'gentle' advice.)

Coincidence or Divine Intervention?

I don't believe in coincidence. I believe in Divine Intervention. Examples: 1st. I'm playing Neil Diamond and The Beatles on my CD player. (My favorite singer and group). 2nd. I'm cleaning out boxes of memories and as I find my father's laminated obituary and desk dictionary signed by him, Neil Diamond is singing Pretty Amazing Grace. 3rd. I receive a box of the largest chocolate covered strawberries I've ever seen from The Brewzoo. Guess what starts playing.....Strawberry Fields Forever. Can't wait to see what the next 'coincidence' will be.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Happy Birthday, Daddy. My father has been gone now as long as he lived on Earth. He would have been 104 today. Gone too soon at 52. He was one of the most humble men I ever knew. He encouraged me to be a journalist and a teacher. He shared with me his wisdom. He fought the "Big C" and hung on long enough to see me start my career in education, dying at the end of my first week of teaching. Oh, Daddy, how I wish you could have been around to see what followed. You would have loved my daughters and grandchildren and especially the fact that they all lived in your home state of Tennessee. I have so many memories of special times with you (walking blocks to the ice cream parlor for chocolate malts, driving to the hospital to get my broken arm fixed, going to The Armory for a boxing match, moving in and out and in and out of the dorm at Indiana State, learning to drive a stick shift in a January blizzard, and more) and will cherish them forever. I miss you, Happy Birthday!