dona's 365

Before there was affordable housing on the corner of Highland and McLean, part of the land was farmed by a man called Hawkeye. Whenever we’d see him working among the rows of vegetables we’d holler, in singsong voices, “Hi Hawkeye”. He would then stop working and wave. It never failed.

The bane of my childhood existence, Chris ’ younger sister, Marcia seemed to be everything my parents wanted me to be until our teacher accidentally read them Marcia’s grades instead of mine. Later, teen-aged Marcia seemed to bond more with my mom than I did, and that hurt. Marcia. Marcia. Marcia.

Exasperated at being called prejudiced yet again by my inner city students, I taught an impromptu lesson on racism. We discussed the major races, where they originated in the world and the impact of migration. Lafayette sat in silence. Then: Lafayette: “Who won?” Me: "What?" Lafayette: “Who won the race?”

The most ambitious member of my master’s degree cohort, Bernie delivered her exquisitely completed projects with a smirk of self-satisfaction. When she approached me to be her partner for a project, my delight soon turned to dismay when I realized she cared much more about appearance than the content inside.

Gregarious, pretty and smart, Debbie was all that I aspired to be. She never acknowledged me however; too busy being herself to notice the shyer students. I quietly mourned her death in a car accident after junior college, then married her brother a few years later. Coincidence? Probably mostly serendipity.

I first encountered Bob at my brother ’s Cub Scout pinewood derby race to which I inappropriately wore off-white hot pants and a brown see-through blouse. Upon passing him the next day, in the center stairway of our high school, he muttered, “you looked better last night”. He ultimately dated Sally .

Sally, whose family owned an upscale department store in town, lost her eye to cancer when she was three. I remember her joy, in eighth grade, at being cancer-free for ten years. I was shocked, then, to learn she’d succumbed to cancer the day our of ten-year high school reunion.

Alex’s roommate, Martin, was born and raised in England. He taught soccer at the YMCA and somehow became a fixture in our home; his British accent filling the void Jeremy’s left behind. Years later I heard from Alex that Martin died, in his sleep, from an epileptic seizure. No fair.

I met Jeremy when I was 17. We fell in love and planned on marrying. He lived in England; I lived in the States. I broke it off after 5 years; the distance was too much. We remain in occasional contact though, and both wonder if IM would have helped.

Last seen evading ghosts , David lived down the street from me growing up. Although a couple of years my junior, we worked together as ambassadors by performing original skits to help prepare junior high school students for the rigors of high school. An Internet search uncovers his continued ambassador pursuits .

He wore faded blue overalls and carried a large Santa-like sack. Nearly every day he would walk past our house and if I were lucky enough to be outside, he would stop, reach into his sack and hand me a stick of JuicyFruit. I wonder if I ever thanked him.

Born in Denmark to an innkeeper and his wife, my dad ’s mother traveled on a passenger ship to the United States wearing wooden soled shoes. Whenever I’d visit her, she would show me the small shoes she kept in an antique china cabinet. I never got tired of that ritual.

Generous, gregarious, and charismatic, Father Cilinski was the priest in St. Ann’s Parish during the four years I taught there. He delighted in treating his staff to dinners at his favorite Italian restaurant . Not being Catholic, nor Italian, I was mildly shocked at the copious amounts of alcohol being consumed.

Eldest daughter of my parents’ closest friends , Chris had a rough childhood. She once put her hand through a plate glass window because, she told me, her mother didn’t love her. After she came out to her family and friends, her life got a lot better. Everyone loves her now.

Another reason I became a special education teacher, Johnny was a student in an elementary school class with which I worked as a high school junior. He said his parents ridiculed him for “being stupid” and compared him to his older, more successful siblings. I wonder where he is now.

Kindergarten classmate, Greg wandered back into my life when we were seventeen. Drove me to school, bought me hot chocolate at McDonald's, blew smoke into my face. Oh, he was gorgeous. I wasn’t his type though. I pretended not to mind and told myself it was best, because he smoked.

Born nearly seven years after me, and my only sibling, Kevin and I were never really friends until we had children. We still don’t see eye-to-eye on everything, but would drop everything to help each other. I’ve nearly forgiven him for broadcasting my teen-age angst-ridden temper tantrums on his CB.

High school psychology teacher, Mr. Ishmal, challenged us to define love and showed us a strangely beautiful film of vaginal liquid crystallizing on a microscope slide. But for all his talk of love and sex, he seemed a sort of slimy, creepy character who’d probably never heard of dental floss.

A self-described ex-flapper, my Grandma Green smoked, drank, skipped, cursed and taught me the Charleston. After Grandpa died she went on with her life, had boyfriends and paved the way for her granddaughters by living with a man. She lived life fully; she died among her family. Happy Birthday Grandma.

Frank ran for an obscure office in Montgomery County. I saw him several times, campaigning the old fashioned way. Handwritten flyers, Magic Marker signs, friendly handshakes. No website nor email list for him. He didn’t get my vote though. He lost. I felt kinda bad. He’s a Republican, you see.