On Tuesday I got an email from a friend, asking me to forward it to eight women who have touched my life, and who I thought would participate. I was also supposed to make a wish and in four days let her know what happened. Well here’s what happened:
It was difficult to choose eight women, even though I have 613 people in my email address book, and most of them are female. I wanted to pick women who check their emails daily and would take a few minutes to comply. By responding to the originator, we could track who went along with “the fun”.
Three of my eight responded that they passed the message along. One said she couldn’t do it – she was on her work computer. I didn’t hear back from the others.
Perhaps this is the time to state my wish, which is the wish I always make: to get out of debt. I know this is a vague wish and that there was no way that it could be achieved in four days unless we won the lottery; but since moving to Texas I don’t think John’s even bought a lottery ticket. Perhaps I should have had a simpler wish, such as, “I wish to find a good book to read.” - which I did - or “I wish that Walter and I don’t encounter any snappy little dogs on our walk today”, something that had a better than 50/50 chance of happening.
The fourth day was yesterday, Saturday. I was scheduled to cashier at the Friends of the Library book sale from Unfortunately the sale was a dud, with far less books sold this time. But several other things occurred.
First, I was asked if I’d like to join the board, come January. This is a formality, but I was glad of it anyway, because I had already let it be known that I would be willing to fill a vacant space.
Second, the fellow I cashiered with turned out to be a very interesting fellow: compact, white haired, wire-rimmed glasses, pressed long sleeve white shirt, khaki pants – he had the look of a retired professional, in this case an academic. His field: biology. His specialty: turtles! And how did he choose turtles? When deciding on his post-graduate work at Tulane University, he remembered the day - he was nine - that he witnessed a huge snapping turtle being pulled from the lake (or was it a river?) where he and his family were vacationing in Arkansas. He had a book at home about turtles so he knew its name!
They say that something we experience with great emotion is more deeply etched in our memories. This must have been the case with him. I gave him a few anecdotes about my experience with turtles: the tortoise my sister found in a vacant lot that became my parents’ beloved pet; how I couldn’t find my turtle food when I was eight and my turtles died; and I mentioned Benjie’s book Far Tortuga, about a little turtle who survives a myriad of near-death encounters. He in turn explained that the snapping turtle has something in its mouth that waves around, tricking fish into thinking it’s something to eat. The fish swims in and ZAP it’s crushed and swallowed. By the way, turtles don’t have tongues.
The retired professor has also traveled the world so we shared experiences of Hong Kong , China South America and California
Third, a stately woman, with her hair in a neat bun, wearing a black wool jacket and gray slacks came to the table with an arm-load of books, mostly cookbooks. “I’d like to come to your house!” I said, to which she replied, “My husband doesn’t like to eat out.” She also had several literary fiction books and for some reason I blurted out, “Do you read the New Yorker?” She said she did, so I wrote down the name Frances Hwang who wrote the wonderful story “Blue Roses” in a recent issue. Before I knew it we were exchanging cards. She’s a Pre Law Advisor at Schreiner University
Fourth was when a woman in a black dress arrived. I commended on her cat brooch. “I’m a dog person!” she began, and told how she had never liked cats, had two wonderful dogs (that have since died) and somehow she found, or was given, a cat that she simply adores and she’s now a crazy cat lady. Her dress had cats on it, too. She was introduced as a woman who speaks many languages, so I said Bon Jour!
Some people you just like, right-off-the-bat, and she is one of them. It turns out she’s the architect who’s donating her time to design a new building for Friends of the Library. I asked her if she likes to write. Soon I was hearing about the two books she wants to write: one on her prized dogs, the other on golf. Golf rescued her from a workaholic existence. Living in New York City Japan
“Yes!” she exclaimed, and pulled up a chair. I listened, rapt, to her husky slightly accented voice, as she extolled the sport which – as a former athlete (I can’t remember all the sports she rattled off) she had thought was not even a sport at all, just “a lot of fat middle-aged men bending over a ball.”
“So I studied,” she said.
“Do you mean you practiced?” I asked, “or did you read books?”
“I studied! I have a mathematical mind.”
“And golf is angles. . .” I said.
“Yes!” she said, her eyes shining.
We talked until it was time to close up. My wish of getting out of debt did not get answered in four days. But I came away feeling a wonderful sense of fullness: I was given stories, the ones I just shared, plus other little tidbits, direct from their sources. The teacher in me hopes I can get the avid golfer to put her words on paper, so that she can inspire others. But that’s my wish, every day.
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