dona's 365

That my cousin Charlie died in a car crash is about the only thing I remember about him. I remember the phone call, and my father’s grief. I remember his widow and their two young children. I remember a home movie of my dad and Charlie wrestling. But that’s all.

“Does the Pope know? What does the Rabbi think?” She joked after we wrote our names on her mailing list. Because my last name sounds Catholic and my then live-in boyfriend looks somewhat Jewish, we understood. We laughed with her, not wanting to spoil the friendly levity. We were Methodist.

You were a regular at the Harris Grill ; we saw you at the bar every time we stopped in for an ouzo or glass of retsina . When the bar reopened after being remodeled we saw you once again: “God-damned Yuppies,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away forever.

The first vegetarian and Buddhist I knew, Cindy and I were best friends for years. Then she got on a different track, graduating from high school early, moving to Maine and becoming Cynthia. She now lives in an adjacent state, but we’ve not really reconnected. Maybe next year. Or not.

Carole’s son had a developmental delay with seizures and impulsivity. Once Carole gave me a car ride. Her son put his hands over her eyes. She told him that was dangerous. The following year Carole and her son died in a car crash. I always wonder if he didn’t listen.

Mrs. Anderson was years ahead of her time. She tossed the basal readers and encouraged us to choose our own books long before the term “Whole Language” was coined. We immersed ourselves in the delicious words of L’Engle, Tolkein, Lewis, and Grahame for the whole of our sixth grade year.

The first person I hated, Mrs. Tidwell said she wanted to be an opera singer instead of the fourth-grade teacher she became. She humiliated me -- my art, my singing, my work . She laughed at my ambition to be a doctor. So I taught; hoping to replace a Mrs. Tidwell.

My cousin Bonnie and I are close in age and were good friends as kids. It was reassuring to have someone non-threatening to compare notes about growing up. Unfortunately time, distance, family squabbles and different life paths got in the way. I doubt I’d even recognize her on the street.

Ali McGraw look-alike, Ann divorced my cousin Ron for a richer man but that ended in divorce too. Now church mouse poor, Ann lived last winter in my mother’s Wisconsin summer home. She used very little heat. The dozens of empty boxes of wine she left may have helped some.

When I worked at the all-night pancake restaurant I had some regular customers. One group was the night shift from Beef Villa . The night before I left for England they braved a blizzard and brought me a present: a stuffed polar bear I named “Chucky”. I still have that bear.

Ashley is hard to know. She can be petulant and bratty or cheerful and sweet, but she decides her moods, and is not easily swayed. Some say it's just her. I think she does it to protect herself from pain. I worry about her the most, my brother's youngest daughter.

A flight attendant and cancer survivor, Barbara made frequent trips to Mexico to buy altar decorations for her church. I knew Barbara was very religious, but was even more certain when I saw the five-foot brightly colored Jesus next to her bed when I took care of her six cats.

My parents’ friend, Bob, ran a gas station but dressed more like he ran a casino. Bob’s wife wanted a round bed and when I asked if she’d gotten one my mom quickly shushed me. Discussions of beds were taboo after his wife found him in one with another woman.

“Want a sheet o’Rabbits?” I thought I heard the farmer say as he wrapped a skinned, gutted rabbit in white paper. “No,” I whispered “Come on, let's go see the rabbits,” persuaded my aunt, taking the package - our dinner. “Okay.” They showed me the caged bunnies destined for someone’s table.

Large, soft and kind, Millie owned the Indianhead tavern in Chetek Wisconsin. On Tuesdays Grandma and I helped Millie prepare the stuffing for the chicken dinner served at her restaurant in the back of the bar. Whenever I tear up pieces of bread for stuffing I always think of Millie.

The first thing I noticed about Dan was his missing hand. Then it didn’t matter and we became friends. We worked on the yearbook staff together, went out a few times, and even kissed once. But we stayed just friends. He thought it was his missing hand. Maybe it was.

I’ve never met Mandy, but I’ve received several complaints from her about posts I let through our school email list. She complains about UNICEF messages and posts for Red Cross. Why am I not surprised, after googling her name, to find an email she wrote on a site called complaints.com?

Bob, our 14-year old paperboy was my first “boyfriend”. With him came my first real kiss. We lasted a month, but the fact that he went to a “special school” bothered me and I was embarrassed to be seen with him. He’s one reason I became a special education teacher. Penance?

Persistently angry at the world, my cousin Bob channeled his anger into weight lifting. He won some world championship competitions and jokingly credits my dad for getting him into the sport because my dad always lost at arm wrestling matches to my much younger brother, but never lost to Bob.

Mr. Jordan was my best friend’s dad. After Cindy and I lost contact, Mr. Jordan and I continued to write each other at Christmastime. He kept me up to date about Cindy and her family. The last letter I ever got from him he was optimistic about his prostate cancer.