dona's 365

P7040014 Originally uploaded by donapatrick . Occasionally curmudgeonly, Bob is the patriarch of the neighborhood. He’s a card-carrying “tree-hugger”, master gardener, environmental activist, and dog lover. His yard holds only native plants, and not a speck of grass. Oh, and he’s the lead in our neighborhood parades. We can all learn a lot from this octogenarian.

Dean in his element Originally uploaded by donapatrick . The night I met Dean at the biker bar in Elgin, I knew we would marry. It took a few years, but we did get married. I had to get something out of my system first and he was there when I was ready and has been there ever since.

If Dustin Hoffman and Paul McCartney had a child together it might have resembled Rob. In the 80’s Rob was Dean’s hip, young statistics professor. Rob’s dad (neither of the above) discovered the cause of tampon-related toxic shock syndrome. Rob’s pediatrician was T Berry Brazelton . I think that’s kinda cool.

Bonnie ’s older sister, Diana, married George, divorced him, then re-married him. Why? Who knows? Not long ago we spoke on the telephone and she told me about her inability to digest gluten, thinking it would help me in some way. I think my mother told her I once had diarrhea.

I remember very little about Darwin, except that he wore cowboy shirts and a perpetual sneer. Recently I saw him in old family home movie footage, but it told me nothing. He was Bonnie ’s older brother and agreed with his dad in most things. For example: “reading was for losers”.

The first few years I knew Laura, she spoke maybe 10 words to me. Now she’s comfortable enough to expel entire paragraphs at a time including shrieks, whines and curse words. She’s spending part of the summer in Scotland, the homeland of her parents. She’s one of Clare’s better friends.

Breece’s mom, Donnamae, joked that her whole family was ADD, but her huge heart of gold made up for any deficits in her attention. My kids always seemed to end up hanging out at her house – maybe the four cats, one bird and friendly, yet hyperactive, beagle were the lures.

The Two Pats Originally uploaded by donapatrick . Jeremy’s mother, Pat, was levelheaded, gave sensible advice and shook her head at silliness. I didn’t think I knew her as well as I knew Jack, but after he died, I realized it was she who wrote me the letters. All those years I thought it was Jack writing me.

Third-grade classmate, Jean, announced to passersby that she was a Martian. It added to her reputation for being weird. She was my secret Santa that year. I don't remember what I gave her, but she gave me a small blue candle shaped like a church. Maybe she was a Martian.

During a difficult IEP meeting for Penny, an emotionally disturbed teenager, Penny’s mother turned to Jeanne, my immediate supervisor at Pace School in Pittsburgh, and said, “You wear too much makeup.” Jeanne simply replied, “Thank you for your comments, but it is not my IEP.” The mother behaved after that.

Still handsome and active at 75 or so, Sue ’s husband Lou climbs ladders to clear his gutters in windstorms and to make sure the roofers are doing their job. He’s a regular golfer and gives well thought-out advice about nearly everything -- but only when asked. Even teenagers find him fascinating.

Barry’s a runner, and a stay-at-home dad, although a veterinarian by trade. Robin works from home full time as a sales rep. Theo, their adorable 2 year-old, is madly in love with Clare. The three of them moved in almost a year ago – we couldn’t ask for better next-door neighbors.

First Eileen moved in next-door, then Paul, then they got married. Eleven years later Paul decided he wanted to find himself. Now he lives on a houseboat and Eileen has moved to North Carolina. It sucks because we really liked them. Before she left, however, Eileen found us good replacements .

Michael, who we’ve known for years, has always seemed even-tempered and levelheaded. Imagine my surprise when he was the loudest in a shouting match last night at the meeting between the neighborhood and hospital. Not that the hospital administrator didn’t deserve to feel pain; it wasn’t a well thought-out action.

Mrs. O'Brien proudly sports a Bush/Cheney decal on her bumper. It stands out on a street of mostly liberals. Even after 15½ years on the same street, she still asks me who I am every time we meet, then apologizes for not buying Girl Scout cookies from Clare in 1999.

Undoubtedly the best educator I’ve ever known, Mr. DeLuca did more than teach. He used every possible opportunity as a teachable moment He was kind, firm and fun and seemed comfortable around parents and children alike. Most of all he liked the kids. Both kids were lucky to have him.

No-nonsense and absolutely not touchy-feely, Ms Mitchnik, was the first teacher that was not influenced by Andrew ’s charms. She had high expectations for her fifth graders. Andrew was not happy, but rose to the occasion by working hard his final year in elementary school. Well done, Ms M.

Fourth-grade teacher and cheerful fellow, Mr. Delpierre was the opposite of Ms Scher when it came to relating with adults. His unusual sense of humor sometimes scared students, but Clare found him warm and kind. After he married a student’s au pair they were featured on a House Hunters episode.

Inconsistent, sarcastic and volatile, Ms Stein — nicknamed Frankenstein by her students — needed to have a career far from young children. Unfortunately for many, including Clare , she chose to teach second grade. Among the few adults she allowed into her classroom, I attempted to model kindness to the woman.

My memory of Ms Stottman, Andrew ’s 3rd grade teacher is rather sketchy at best — I went back to work that year. I know Andrew loved her and she loved Andrew. That was also the last year I remember Andrew enjoying school — after that school became an unpleasant chore for him.

Mrs. Scher taught Clare in 3rd grade and Andrew had her for 2nd grade. Neither one disliked her, in fact Clare quite liked her. Mrs. Shear did not seem to have good grown-up people skills, however. Most parents with whom I’ve discussed Mrs. Scher this felt she didn’t like them.

Petite and elegant, Mrs. Beecher taught both my children their first year of elementary school. Soft-spoken yet confident, she made each kindergarten student and their parent feel special. When we’ve run into her at various school gatherings, she remembers each child to whom she speaks and remarks on their accomplishments.

Grandma ’s youngest brother and Auntie June ’s husband Harold was often heard chuckling about something or another. I remember once, riding in his Ford on the way to a lake in Wisconsin he sang: Wouldn’t you really rather have a PEW -ick? ” Then chucked at his cleverness. We need more like him.

Though Todd lives not far from us, I have not seen him since his wedding at least 15 years ago. We used to be very close when he and my husband were in grad school together. We’ll see him tomorrow though, at his wife’s funeral. Where doe s the time go?

Clare ’s Girl Scout troop leader, Nike (pronounced “Nicky”) likes to be in control. Her disorganized yet dictatorial leadership has caused most of the troop to abandon the organization. Still, she’s remained with the troop for these 11 years, and that’s no small feat. And the girls are far from angels.

Even if Suzanne, who could be the sweetest person I know, hates a book, she always finds something nice to say about it. When she lost her husband to leukemia a few years ago, it made the rest of us stop and consider our own marriages; then the divorces began.

The person and longtime friend who got me to join the book group, Debra regularly suggests a classic, but like mine, her suggestions are largely ignored. Some members of the group think that by sometimes choosing a book set in Ireland, Debra’s desire for a James Joyce will be satisfied.

Consistently cheerful, Regina usually attends our book group meetings. She rarely suggests books, but does her best to read many of the books suggested by others. She usually says something positive about a book, even if she dislikes it. I hope she is as happy as she appears to be.

Attorney for a large cultural icon in Washington DC, Marsha’s been missing most book group meetings recently because of work. She fretted over her two children leaving for college, but now loves the freedom of the “empty nest”. She’s already decided on a post-retirement career – an independent college admissions counselor.

I spent the first 13 years in this neighborhood thinking Senta didn’t like me. She never said much when she walked her dog past our house. I thought she avoided me at neighborhood gatherings. Then after someone told me she was shy, I understood. Now we talk whenever we meet.

Our neighbor, Sue, blames NIH for the cancer that has touched four of her five children. One son died of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. One daughter survived breast cancer, the other, uterine cancer. Another son survived testicular cancer. She also cites cancer cases of similar-aged people who grew up in the neighborhood .

We met her on the Liverpool to Dublin ferry. She insisted we visit a pub in Galway, called The Keys for its great music. While in Galway we searched, unsuccessfully, for The Keys . When we heard music coming from a pub ( The Quays ) we’d passed several times, we felt foolish.

We met Swedish national, Jens, and his Austrian girlfriend in Holland while staying on an Irish run botel in Amsterdam. The four of us got along very well, despite the difficulties in communication — Jens translating his girlfriend’s German for us. They said we didn’t act like Americans — a true compliment.

Unlicensed bed & breakfast host, Ulick found tenants by approaching them at the Dublin train station. Although his wife was gravely ill in one of the bedrooms, he managed to provide clean sheets, a bed and a filling, if somewhat disorganized, breakfast. He laced his morning tea with homemade Poteen .

I guess I was going through a bad-boy stage when I dated Rick. He lived a slum apartment, sold drugs and had been arrested more than once. I don’t remember where we met nor the circumstances of our break-up. That was quite probably the most dangerous time of my young-adulthood.

Arrogant and condescending, Tom was the night-shift manager at the restaurant. He thought my disdain for him was amusing, and threw a goodbye party for me at his place before I left for England. When no one else came because of the blizzard, we entertained ourselves the best we could.

A Georgetown professor and Arieh 's wife, Sandy, was born and raised in NYC, but reluctantly moved with Arieh and their daughter to Arieh’s native country, Chile, when Arieh felt the need to go back home. After 9-11 her reluctance changed to relief, believing herself safer in Chile than in Bethesda.

The first time I met Arieh, was at a bonfire night at CMU . We went to the bonfire, walked with actors from Hill Street Blues saw Moscow on the Hudson then went to his tiny apartment for tea. Since he’s a dead ringer for Robin Williams it was pretty surreal.

My very first teaching job began as a long-term substitute for Sr. Jane. When she returned, I stayed on as a co-teacher in her classroom. I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor. She was knowledgeable, funny, and caring. She gave advice in a way that didn’t seem like advice.

Until I’d met Sr. Margaret, I didn’t realize that nuns could be vain. Not that she primped or anything, but she refused to tell her age. When I mentioned that my mom remembered her from high school, she seemed distressed, and swore me to secrecy. Oops, the cat’s out now.

Sr. Barbara was one of the first nuns I got to know well. We carpooled to school together my first year as a teacher. She shared an apartment with Sr. Margaret , the first grade teacher. Sr. Barbara was the principal and because we were friends some other teachers distrusted me.

Howard taught 4th grade on the other side of the retractable wall from Carolyn and me. We got the special Ed kids, he got the ESOL kids. Howard and I used to talk for hours after school. He introduced me to Michael Franks, I played some Dan Bern for him.

How sad it is that I have no real memories of my cousin Julie. I remember her face. I remember being at her house. I remember hanging out with her. But I have no stories to tell about Julie. Of course it is only sad for me. Others knew her.

My cousin Pam and I used to pretend we were grown-ups and take dolls for walks. I’ve not seen her in years, but still have a letter she wrote me when she lost her impossibly tiny premature infant. I still cry when I read her words. Sometimes growing up sucks.

If you’ve ever heard Tom Chapin’s song, Cousins , you know what it was like when my aunt and uncle stopped by with their crew. Someone always ended up hurt and something was always broken. It was a relief when they moved to Mississippi, but I always kinda missed the excitement.

In Chris ’ family, only two kids out of five were not in Special Ed. The mother was a character and readily admitted she didn’t know how to handle her offspring. It was said the last two were conceived after conjugal visits to her incarcerated husband; someone she claimed to hate.

We asked the graduating sixth-graders where they thought they’d be in ten years. Chris wrote: in jail . We thought he was being difficult. When I heard he’d stolen a teacher’s car from his middle school lot and crashed it into a police car, I suspected he might have been right.

Mom called tonight to say Auntie June died. Auntie June taught me the secret to lump-free mashed potatoes. Mash the potatoes (electric mixer ok), add some butter, mash some more. Add milk when the potato mixture is smooth, never before. She had a lot of opinions, but had great advice.

Brian never seemed happy. He wrote in his journal about a monster that lived in his house and broke his toys. His mother cried when she read the entry, and told me about her once normal daughter who, after a high fever, was diagnosed with Autism. She was Brian’s monster.

With dark eyes, surrounded by long full lashes Gina was already a beauty in seventh grade. For some long-forgotten reason, Sr. Joan had it in for Gina. Each morning she'd present Gina with eye-makeup remover and a tissue and demand she wipe off her non-existent mascara. Gina always stoically complied.

Tom Cruise look-alike, smooth-talking, thirteen-year-old Diran even had the older nuns under his spell. He was nearly expelled from Catholic school for smoking in the boys’ room, but given a warning instead. He finally was kicked out when he brought a knife to the school. Not one of my successes.

When I first joined my film club, I was awed by Stan’s knowledge of the language of film. I still am, but Stan has other awesome qualities. About to retire from the government and studying to become a rabbi, his kind, soft-spoken, nature will serve him well in that capacity.

This past Friday, Karen was struck and killed by a car on her way to Temple a week before her son’s Bar Mitzvah. I hadn’t met Karen, but know her son who wrestles on my son’s team and have met her husband and daughter. Life is fragile. Hug your kids.

Each time Uncle Verne saw me after high school he’d ask, “Whatcha doing these days?” I’d reply, “I’m going to college,” and he’d say “College is a waste of time. Get a job like Bonnie .” Also the most racist person I’ve ever known; the “n-word” never far from his lips.

Dad ’s sister, Norma, though not the youngest, in the family, was the one who was coddled the most. She’d barely survived encephalitis as a child and always seemed a little too quiet. As an adult, her children regularly feuded with one-another and her ne’er-do-well husband caused quarrels with his in-laws.

One of my fellow student teachers in London, Bill’s chatter kept me in stitches most of the time. My favorite bit: “I knew not to expect the comforts of home, but I was surprised to not have heat in my room.” We both loved the Blockheads’ January 1979 hit single .

As we walked the dark path to the youth hostel, a swaying light seemed to be getting closer. It was an old man with a lantern. He was pleased to meet Americans in Ireland and shook our hands repeating, "How do you do." It reminded me of the rhyme .

Overheard when I was sixteen: “I’m living on borrowed time,” said the elderly neighbor who had the yard sale, “I should have died six months ago.” I don’t know how long she lived after that, but I bought a cookbook from her and remember her when I cook from it.

When Candy and I hitchhiked through Ireland we passed an old woman standing outside her cottage who impulsively invited us in for tea. As we made the tea and cut the bread, she sat and told us her recipe for Irish bread . I make it every single St. Patrick’s Day.

Barb yelled at other people’s kids, including me. Once she took me to feed carrots to the horse across the street. It bit me and I was afraid she’d yell at me. So I yelled, “I hate you!” to her first. Her daughter told my parents about that. They yelled.

The older waitress with whom I worked at the all-night pancake house obsessively and fastidiously scrubbed counters while complaining vociferously about the rotten job everyone else did in cleaning the workstations. Imagine my surprise then, when visiting her home with another co-worker, to see cockroaches crawling across her television screen.

Rosanne and I flipped a coin for Pat. She lost, so Pat became her teaching assistant. Pat had a mind of her own and wasn’t afraid to disregard explicit directions. Underneath it all she probably had a good heart, but we never saw it. I got her the next year.

Roy and June lived across the street from my childhood home. She was a nurse; I’m not sure what Roy was. They adopted David, Michael, Marie and Jeannie. Roy used to buy single bottles of beer from my dad when June was out of town. She disapproved of him drinking.

I have nothing but good memories of Nathan, Rosanne ’s son. He was a delight from the day I met him to the last day I saw him in his hospital room. He loved my kids and they loved him back. His death at thirteen was a blow to us all.

When I volunteered to do the web page for Cinema Art Bethesda , I didn’t realize it came with a position on the board of directors and a picky micro-managing VP. I cringed each time I saw Howard’s name in my inbox. What now? I’d wonder. Wasn’t the blue blue enough?

I didn’t know him well, but understand that Mr. Topolewksi enjoyed surprising his family. The year he asked me to be his son’s 17th birthday present somewhat proves that point. He died not long after that and I’m glad I was able to help him with one of his surprises.

I met Michael my first year in Pittsburgh. I’d walk to Mellon Park and spend afternoons reading and writing among the ruins. He’d always be there, exercising his golden retrievers. We’d spend hours talking about our lives. To this day I still think of him as The Mayor of Mellon Park.

My phone : Moo Me : That must be Carol Diane (my husband’s sister) : What’s your ring tone for me? Me : Ode to Joy My phone: Ding Dong the Witch is Dead * Diane : Who’s that Me ( looking at screen ): Your mom Diane : *my default ring tone – I told her the next day.

I’m an immature five-year-old. It’s my first day in kindergarten . We are seated on a rug, listening to a man in a suit talk to us about school. I think it is President Kennedy. I ask the student next to me if she feels like crying too. She says no.

My fifth grade teacher, Miss Jademan, assigned a prayer for us to memorize. I couldn’t find a copy of it and didn’t know how to find one. I expected to get in trouble, but didn’t, and didn’t understand why, later realizing it must have been because I attended public school .

My first grade teacher, Mrs. Gibboney was nice enough. Once, though, she thought I was cheating on a reading test (I wasn’t) and scolded me. I did a teaching internship in her classroom during college. It was weird hanging out in the teacher’s lounge with my old elementary school teachers.

My two kindergarten teachers, Miss Peterson and Mrs. Freeman, left me with few memories. One of them laughed at my dancing and one of them instructed me to lie down when I had a bloody nose. We napped on mats and had milk and graham crackers for snack. That’s it.

Frances took me under her wing when I first moved to the DC area. I couldn’t have asked for a better guide or friend She’d been a reporter for the Evening Star where she’d interviewed first ladies from Eleanor Roosevelt through Betty Ford. She taught me the meaning of integrity.

George, Tim ’s friend from Columbia, Maryland , must have often worn clothes that matched because I called him color-coordinated. He replied: everyone who lived in that planned community was color-coordinated – it was a rule. I now live about thirty minutes from Columbia and, still think of it as Color Coordinated Columbia.

Tim was “the one that got away”. We had something for three months in London, but didn’t pick it up when we were both back in the States. I thought he found someone better, but recently discovered he went back to an old love. And that makes all the difference.

Diane and I worked together for a couple of years. She’d moved around a lot – her husband worked for the VOA . For a while she and I tried, unsuccessfully, to tame Don . Then Don was fired, I chose to telecommute and Diane moved to Manila. Were we really even there?

When Betsy showed up at our junior high lunch table wearing a wig, I remarked loudly - unkindly, that her real hair looked better. The following year the newspaper ran a 2-page story about a local teenager living with Leukemia. Unkind remarks about Betsy’s wig figured prominently in the article.

Janet and Diane were best friends unless they were enemies. They were enemies at Marcia ’s birthday sleepover. Janet became my best friend for the night. Diane chose Marcia and because it was Marcia’s party they got the head of the twin bed. Janet and I shared the foot, with Chris .

Cheerleader, homecoming queen nominee, all-round popular girl, Diane intimidated me throughout my middle and high school years. I thought it was over after graduation, but at our ten-year reunion, one disdainful glance from her cold blue eyes turned me back into a shy, skinny teenager. No more reunions for me.

Kenny and Carolyn lived next-door to my parents. Whenever I'd see the two of them, I'd think of the Jack Spratt nursery rhyme . He was skinny and she obese. They had no children, only a series of identical German Shepards that barked if a child stepped on their mammoth lawn.

Mom and Dad ’s current neighbor, Ron, is a nice fellow. I taught him to text message. He now texts me to update me his life, my folks, his love life, his kids, his politics, his opinions, his ex-wife, his job... It’s like an RSS feed of his stream of consciousness.

“Pop and popcorn! Pop and popcorn!” We’d scream as we jumped up and down. Visiting Kim and her brother Mark was always a treat. Things changed the year Kim advanced an extra year in school, and Mark and I were retained . We’d switched "ages" and with that, childhood pecking order.

At college parties you’d always find Jon surrounded by beautiful co-eds as he recounted ribald tales of ancient Rome. More recently his stories are less lewd, involve art theft and his audiences are like-minded netizens . I thought it was all BS, but apparently USAtoday and MSNBC don’t agree. Go figure.

When our principal, Sister Joan, announced she was leaving the school and the convent because she’d recently recovered memories of abuse from her childhood, the staff was split in two. Either you allied yourself with Joan or the pastor . I chose Joan. What was once a sanctuary became a battlefield.

Sweet, young and energetic, Sheila taught first grade at St. Ann’s. Her sudden, tragic death brought the school community together more than any retreat or staff development activity ever could. Her favorite hymn, Color the World with Song still makes me cry. I’d rather have had the staff development retreat.

Sister John Kennon showed me how to make good popcorn the year I taught in the convent basement. Although she burned the first batch, the second was perfect. Shortly thereafter, diagnosed with breast cancer, she was whisked away by the Diocese. She died on her favorite holiday: Saint Valentine’s Day.

When Jill married Gordon less than a year after Larry died some folks were shocked, but Gordon was exactly what she needed. He’s smart, quiet, gentle and kind. He was the high school nerd when he attended classes with the Twins who called him “high pockets”. They respect him now.

Jill got pregnant in college, dropped out and had three more children after that. Always upbeat, the only time I ever saw her upset was when her plans to return to school were ruined when her husband lost his job. She’s now remarried to a great guy and raises alpacas.

I never remember my mom ’s best friend’s husband, Larry, serious. Even early in the morning he was the “life of the party”, and when he lost his third job he laughed about it. I thought he was just a fun grown-up until he was diagnosed with cirrhosis. Then I understood.

My (twin) brothers-in-law, Danny and Dennis have been farming just outside Elgin, Illinois all their adult life. Before that their father farmed some of the same land . In less than two years most of the land they farm will become a subdivision for the rich. Their landlords are selling out.

IM-buddy and Naval enlistee, Richard readily accepted my mostly insincere invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. He and his young family arrived on our doorstep at 9:00 am (after a 4-hour drive from Virginia Beach). Even though I’ve yet to live down the Thanksgiving with the Internet Strangers, I’m glad they came.

My mom ’s youngest sister and my favorite aunt, Ginny’s been a huge part of my life. More like an older sister than an aunt she has been my friend, confidant and ally. She told me that when I was born she thought of me as her real, live dress-up doll.

The night I babysat for Mike and Karen * and he screamed at her because I left the bathroom light on made me vow to make him uncomfortable each time we ended up in the same room. Luckily we rarely meet anymore; the older I get, the meaner I can be. *Honestly - this is a different Mike and Karen than the ones I wrote about before .

My mom’s friend Karen had a personality that made a teenager feel at home. I’d ride my bike to her house just to talk. That’s why I still get sad remembering her apologies for not remembering our conversations after electro-shock therapy. Last known address: the Douglas Hotel, a homeless shelter.

My closest (in age and friendship) boy cousin, Jim, was always very easy going. He didn’t have the temper his brother had. Perhaps if he had vented a little and gotten some of the same support services as Bob did, Jim would not have taken the Ben Sanderson way out.

M’s abusive mother thought she named her son after an African tornado. It turned out she’d named him aptly though. His mood changed directions several times a day; influencing the climate of the classroom and more than once his history caused our eyes to rain tears of sadness and anger.

When my Grandpa Green wasn’t reading a book or completing a crossword puzzle he’d be playing solitaire. I asked him once, what kept him from cheating. His response was “You’d only be cheating yourself.” He didn’t know it then, but that advice gave me the foundation for who I’ve become.

My most vivid memory of my cousin Debbie was the year she arrived at Grandma ’s with lice. I see Grandma combing Debbie’s long, hopelessly snarled hair and hear Debbie’s howls (Owwwwww! Grandma, that hurts!) and Grandma’s curse words: (%&$# lice!). Debbie returned from that vacation with a much shorter hairstyle.

Miss Meyer scared even the parents, but I liked her. Maybe she saw that I was vulnerable, maybe she just liked me. When she decided I needed to repeat third grade, I asked to be in her class again. Genuinely surprised, but pleased said, "most don't want me one year."

When I told Marie ’s mom, a Marie herself, about an antipasto dish I loved but couldn’t reproduce, she smiled, nodded her head and told me in her raspy Rhode Island Italian voice how to roast a red pepper, add wine vinegar and slivered garlic to create exactly what I’d described.

Always on the same stool, drinking coffee, lots of coffee – free refills, y'see – he’d call me Miss England . He never left a tip until the shift before my final solo trip to England. When he left I found a crisp $10 bill beside his coffee spoon. Still makes me smile.

Vilma, our pretty British exchange student, was more mature than I, and the boys noticed that. After mom said Vilma could not see The Exorcist with one of those boys , Vilma requested a new host family. When it was my turn to visit England, her mother refused to host me. Note : If you've read my journal entries of this time, you know this is not the complete story. I've removed my involvement . Oops.

Firstborn daughter in a family of 5 depression-era children, my mom grew up too fast. Engaged by 16, married by 18 and a mother by 20 she never really learned who she was. At 70 she’s stuck as nursemaid to my tantrum-prone, dementia-ridden father . Will she ever get a chance?

Although he looks like he’d fit in more comfortably in a garden , guarding the flowers, than in a building, Larry seems at ease in most social situations. He loves to eat and to treat his friends and friends of friends to fine meals. Most importantly, he makes my mom happy.

A truck driver, Karen ’s husband, Mike, parked his 18-wheeler in front of his house. When Karen was pregnant he rode my brother ’s skateboard and broke his foot. He served in Vietnam but didn’t like to discuss it. I understood when, while babysitting, I saw some photographs he’d taken in Vietnam.

Next-door neighbor to my parents when I was a teenager, Karen reminded me of the eldest daughter in the movie version of Fiddler on the Roof. I babysat her children and had a slight crush on her husband . I mostly remember our girl talks while she ironed in the breezeway.

Elementary school classmate, Kathy often smelled like garbage. I don’t think I was ever mean to her, but I shunned her along with everyone else. We both ended up at the outcasts table in junior high, along with Chris , Pam and Cindy . We weren’t all that different after all.

Librarian by profession and by nature, Jeremy ’s father, Jack, took me on literary tours of England including the Brontë Parsonage and Watership Down . The best by far was C. S. Lewis country where we stood outside the Kilns then traveled to Holy Trinity Church where Lewis worshiped and is buried .

David’s mom, Mary Ellen, always had a great sense of humor. She was very supportive of me as well as David’s other teachers. Mary Ellen and I became good friends the years I was David’s resource teacher. Recently she sent me pictures of the inside of David’s fourth-grade lunch box.

I called him Johnny Yuma . I don’t know if he was a rebel . He was my boyfriend. We were the same age -- Three or four years old. I don’t know where he lived Did he go wandering When he quit playing with me? Apologies to Johnny Cash -- For this silliness.