Post by Rhonda on Aug 28, 2007 22:51:11 GMT -5
AREN'T WE LUCKY?
by Claudia Chyle Smith
"Hi, Claudia, do you remember me? Sally Maklin? Actually,
Sally Maklin Davis now. I got your email address from Judy in
Wisconsin and since I'll be in D.C. next week visiting my daughter I
hope we might meet for lunch."
I studied the email and waited for a rush of recognition. Sally
Maklin, huh. Nothing stirred, no image formed, no memory rushed
forward.
"Wait, wasn't she that girl with the shiny brown pony tail and
freckles across her nose who came over after school to play in 5th
grade?" I wondered. Yes, that was Sally. She was a pistol. Oh my
gosh, I haven't thought of her or seen her in -- well, it's been a
long, long time.
My curiosity was piqued and I wrote back that our years at
McKinley Elementary school in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, were distant
memories but I would enjoy meeting her for lunch and finding out more
about her life. And I was curious. Why would someone want to see me
again after such a long time?
We agreed on a restaurant in a mall half way between her
daughter's house and mine for the following Tuesday.
That morning, as I got dressed, it occurred to me that Sally
wouldn't still be the smooth-faced girl with freckles and a shiny
ponytail. Wondering how we'd recognize each other struck me as
slightly absurd. Is it possible to recollect a face not seen in more
than 45 years? I laughed out loud thinking about it.
Suddenly I felt a little nervous. What would we talk about?
What if she's strange? What if we have completely different opinions
about the world and have nothing to talk about?
I drove to the mall thinking I'd been impetuous in agreeing to
meet her. On one hand, I was flattered that someone from so far back
in my life had wanted to reconnect with me and on the other hand I
was wondering why.
Clustered around the hostess's station were pairs and foursomes
waiting to be seated, no singles.
And suddenly there she was -- a slender woman walking toward me,
arms outstretched, to share a big, warm hug. Sally's eyes made me
remember her in a flash. They danced like bright brown marbles in
her smooth face. She had an easy smile and a comfortable look about
her. It felt as if I'd known her forever.
Within minutes, we were eating our salads and picking up the
outlines of our lives as if we had simply stepped out of the room for
a minute and then returned. We talked about our families, her summer
home in Minnesota, our work, her husband's impending retirement and
our mutual friends in Wisconsin. Our conversation sailed on easily.
I relaxed and realized how good an old friendship can be.
"You know," she said leaning toward me, "the first time I ever
ate lamb was at your house and your mother served it with mint jelly.
She was really something and I learned a lot from her."
She knew my mother and father! She'd been to my house on 81st
Street. My mother had taught her things. How many people are left
on this earth who can say that? I was humbled by this thought and
overwhelmed with gratitude that Sally had taken a chance on emailing
me and that I had agreed to meet her. We made plans to meet every
time she came back to the area for a visit.
When we got up to leave, Sally said, "Oh, let's get a photograph
taken, I've brought my camera."
The hostess, a young woman of about 20, took the camera and
motioned us to stand close together.
"We haven't seen each other in more than 49 years," I said to her.
Her eyes widened. She lowered the camera and looked at us as if
really seeing us for the first time.
"Why are you getting together now?" she asked.
I looked at Sally, who grinned back at me. She slipped her arm
around my shoulder and we both turned toward the young woman and
smiled.
"Because we can," I said. "And aren't we lucky?"
-- Claudia Chyle Smith <csmithcomm at aol.com>
___________________________________________
Claudia writes from Reston, Virginia. She is the mother of two grown
daughters, one of whom is married with two sons and the other is a
social worker in the PICU of a busy medical center. Her husband of
41 years has enjoyed her stories for years and has encouraged her to
share them with others.
by Claudia Chyle Smith
"Hi, Claudia, do you remember me? Sally Maklin? Actually,
Sally Maklin Davis now. I got your email address from Judy in
Wisconsin and since I'll be in D.C. next week visiting my daughter I
hope we might meet for lunch."
I studied the email and waited for a rush of recognition. Sally
Maklin, huh. Nothing stirred, no image formed, no memory rushed
forward.
"Wait, wasn't she that girl with the shiny brown pony tail and
freckles across her nose who came over after school to play in 5th
grade?" I wondered. Yes, that was Sally. She was a pistol. Oh my
gosh, I haven't thought of her or seen her in -- well, it's been a
long, long time.
My curiosity was piqued and I wrote back that our years at
McKinley Elementary school in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, were distant
memories but I would enjoy meeting her for lunch and finding out more
about her life. And I was curious. Why would someone want to see me
again after such a long time?
We agreed on a restaurant in a mall half way between her
daughter's house and mine for the following Tuesday.
That morning, as I got dressed, it occurred to me that Sally
wouldn't still be the smooth-faced girl with freckles and a shiny
ponytail. Wondering how we'd recognize each other struck me as
slightly absurd. Is it possible to recollect a face not seen in more
than 45 years? I laughed out loud thinking about it.
Suddenly I felt a little nervous. What would we talk about?
What if she's strange? What if we have completely different opinions
about the world and have nothing to talk about?
I drove to the mall thinking I'd been impetuous in agreeing to
meet her. On one hand, I was flattered that someone from so far back
in my life had wanted to reconnect with me and on the other hand I
was wondering why.
Clustered around the hostess's station were pairs and foursomes
waiting to be seated, no singles.
And suddenly there she was -- a slender woman walking toward me,
arms outstretched, to share a big, warm hug. Sally's eyes made me
remember her in a flash. They danced like bright brown marbles in
her smooth face. She had an easy smile and a comfortable look about
her. It felt as if I'd known her forever.
Within minutes, we were eating our salads and picking up the
outlines of our lives as if we had simply stepped out of the room for
a minute and then returned. We talked about our families, her summer
home in Minnesota, our work, her husband's impending retirement and
our mutual friends in Wisconsin. Our conversation sailed on easily.
I relaxed and realized how good an old friendship can be.
"You know," she said leaning toward me, "the first time I ever
ate lamb was at your house and your mother served it with mint jelly.
She was really something and I learned a lot from her."
She knew my mother and father! She'd been to my house on 81st
Street. My mother had taught her things. How many people are left
on this earth who can say that? I was humbled by this thought and
overwhelmed with gratitude that Sally had taken a chance on emailing
me and that I had agreed to meet her. We made plans to meet every
time she came back to the area for a visit.
When we got up to leave, Sally said, "Oh, let's get a photograph
taken, I've brought my camera."
The hostess, a young woman of about 20, took the camera and
motioned us to stand close together.
"We haven't seen each other in more than 49 years," I said to her.
Her eyes widened. She lowered the camera and looked at us as if
really seeing us for the first time.
"Why are you getting together now?" she asked.
I looked at Sally, who grinned back at me. She slipped her arm
around my shoulder and we both turned toward the young woman and
smiled.
"Because we can," I said. "And aren't we lucky?"
-- Claudia Chyle Smith <csmithcomm at aol.com>
___________________________________________
Claudia writes from Reston, Virginia. She is the mother of two grown
daughters, one of whom is married with two sons and the other is a
social worker in the PICU of a busy medical center. Her husband of
41 years has enjoyed her stories for years and has encouraged her to
share them with others.