"Today in gym class we're going to learn to square dance," our teacher announced to the class.
All of us girls squealed and the boys groaned. Girls and boys dancing together--whoo hooo! We girls couldn't wait to get started.
Teacher separated us into groups of four--2 boys, 2 girls, in each group. She put the record on the record player and made us walk through the steps while she called out directions.
"Swing your partner," was my favorite part because Kurt was my partner and I was itching to grab his arm through mine. Kurt was the cutest, tallest boy in our class and I was dancing with HIM! Linda and Patty were eyeing me. They didn't like it one bit that he was my partner but I didn't care. He was mine, all mine!
OK, for forty-five minutes on this day he was mine all mine.
Kurt followed the teacher's instructions and just danced. He was too cool to balk or horse around like the other boys in class--but it was his cool indifference that made me like him even more.
So, we "do see doed" and "promenaded" the whole class time and I was in fifth grade girl heaven. I could see it all now. This was just the beginning. Once he saw how fun I was, once he noticed how cute I really was, once he danced with me, I KNEW we'd be going steady for sure. Yep. Kurt was going to be my boyfriend. My head swirled with dreams of how it was going to be. It was fate!
But then class was over far too quickly and I soon heard,
"OK, everyone line up in ABC order. Time to go back to the classroom!"
I was a "B" at the front of the line and Kurt was a "T" at the back of the line so when he walked past me to line up, I smiled at him and waited for his smile back.
I waited and waited.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Love in Curlers
I knew it wouldn't be long now. My mother was sleeping all the time from the meds and death that were creeping up on her. Shallow breaths. Deep sighs. Sadness and loss filled the room. Filled my heart. Filled my future. She would die soon.
A few days before, I'd helped her bathe and change her bed clothes. She'd sat on the side of the bed while I stood before her methodically and gently combing and parting her hair into small sections to gently it wrap around each curler. She still wanted to feel pretty.
That's when she wrapped both her arms around my waist and pulled me close. Then she laid her head on my chest.
"Be my love," she whispered. "Be my love."
"I'm your love, Mama. I am your love."
My mother looked deep into my eyes, searching.
"I'm so tired," she said.
The sick old woman rested her head on me--her daughter--her caretaker--her friend--for a few more seconds and then leaned back so I could finish curling her hair.
A few days before, I'd helped her bathe and change her bed clothes. She'd sat on the side of the bed while I stood before her methodically and gently combing and parting her hair into small sections to gently it wrap around each curler. She still wanted to feel pretty.
That's when she wrapped both her arms around my waist and pulled me close. Then she laid her head on my chest.
"Be my love," she whispered. "Be my love."
"I'm your love, Mama. I am your love."
My mother looked deep into my eyes, searching.
"I'm so tired," she said.
The sick old woman rested her head on me--her daughter--her caretaker--her friend--for a few more seconds and then leaned back so I could finish curling her hair.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Ronald and the pot of coffee
My Uncle Bill had twin brothers, Ronald and Bob. It had always been told that the boys (they were grown men but still called 'boys') had Downs' Syndrome but it seems that wasn't the case. They were mentally slow but mostly able to take care of themselves with minimal outside assistance.
The boys had very different personalities. Bob was the grumpy one. He mumbled and fussed and grumbled a lot. Ronald was good hearted and the nicest of the brothers. He was the more responsible of the two. We grew up with the boys around our family. As far as we kids were concerned, they were our uncles, too.
One time both Mom and Dad had to work the same night and I wasn't old enough to babysit by myself yet--so I must have been about eleven years old. Mom got Ronald to stay with us that evening. What a fiasco! Ronald was a sweetheart and no match for us four wild kids that night. We ran through the house, we made a mess of the living room, and we wouldn't take our baths when we were supposed to. Poor Ronald was about fit to be tied.
He had just about had it with us and it was getting late. Ronald knew what time we were supposed to be in the bed so he told us to pick up our junk and get in there. We did not go gently into that good night. We argued. We fought. We disobeyed. We railroaded poor Ronald. We told him we wanted a snack. He got us a snack. Then Karla had a brainstorm. We couldn't go to bed unless we had our before bedtime pot of coffee. The one Mama ALWAYS let us have.
At first he didn't believe us but we lied and lied and protested, and it took a good bit of it too, until we wore Ronald down. He made us four wild ones a pot of brewed coffee. When it was finished percolating, he poured us each a cup. We asked for sugar and milk and he put it on the table. Then for 20 more minutes we doctored up our never-before-in-our-lifetime cups of java. Mom wouldn't let us drink coffee. She told us it would make worms in our stomachs. Anyway, we tried to drink it but we really didn't like it. So we stirred and sugared it a lot and spilled and sloshed it all over the kitchen table. When Ronald was totally burnt out with us, he yelled at us to go to bed. He sucked all the fun out of our coffee party. The adventure was over so we went to bed leaving the mess all over the table.
That's the way Mom found the kitchen when she got home. A hot mess. Ronald would keep us from killing ourselves and each other but that was pretty much the extent of his babysitting skills. He didn't clean up anything and Mom was pretty mad when she saw the coffee cups, spoons, sugar and milk all over her table. She asked Ronald what went on and he just told her it was from our nightly before bed pot of coffee. Mom was dumbfounded.
Sweet, goodhearted Ronald never babysat for us again.
The boys had very different personalities. Bob was the grumpy one. He mumbled and fussed and grumbled a lot. Ronald was good hearted and the nicest of the brothers. He was the more responsible of the two. We grew up with the boys around our family. As far as we kids were concerned, they were our uncles, too.
One time both Mom and Dad had to work the same night and I wasn't old enough to babysit by myself yet--so I must have been about eleven years old. Mom got Ronald to stay with us that evening. What a fiasco! Ronald was a sweetheart and no match for us four wild kids that night. We ran through the house, we made a mess of the living room, and we wouldn't take our baths when we were supposed to. Poor Ronald was about fit to be tied.
He had just about had it with us and it was getting late. Ronald knew what time we were supposed to be in the bed so he told us to pick up our junk and get in there. We did not go gently into that good night. We argued. We fought. We disobeyed. We railroaded poor Ronald. We told him we wanted a snack. He got us a snack. Then Karla had a brainstorm. We couldn't go to bed unless we had our before bedtime pot of coffee. The one Mama ALWAYS let us have.
At first he didn't believe us but we lied and lied and protested, and it took a good bit of it too, until we wore Ronald down. He made us four wild ones a pot of brewed coffee. When it was finished percolating, he poured us each a cup. We asked for sugar and milk and he put it on the table. Then for 20 more minutes we doctored up our never-before-in-our-lifetime cups of java. Mom wouldn't let us drink coffee. She told us it would make worms in our stomachs. Anyway, we tried to drink it but we really didn't like it. So we stirred and sugared it a lot and spilled and sloshed it all over the kitchen table. When Ronald was totally burnt out with us, he yelled at us to go to bed. He sucked all the fun out of our coffee party. The adventure was over so we went to bed leaving the mess all over the table.
That's the way Mom found the kitchen when she got home. A hot mess. Ronald would keep us from killing ourselves and each other but that was pretty much the extent of his babysitting skills. He didn't clean up anything and Mom was pretty mad when she saw the coffee cups, spoons, sugar and milk all over her table. She asked Ronald what went on and he just told her it was from our nightly before bed pot of coffee. Mom was dumbfounded.
Sweet, goodhearted Ronald never babysat for us again.
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