The PC and the internet filled in some of the blanks.  I now know that she suffered and died from breast cancer, and was survived by a husband and three children.  She had also earned a PhD and used the title Dr.  The last time I had contact with her, she had three children, I’m not sure about the PhD, and she was preparing to sell a home in the east which probably coincided with her husband’s retirement from the Air Force.

We lived in the same dorm for all 4 years.  Our majors were vastly different.  She was all about science.  I was all about history/political science.  There was a vast intellectual gap between her medical information and sterile procedures and my discussing or writing about historical facts with theoretical analysis.  We dealt with life in vastly  ways.

She was in my wedding party almost 36 years ago.  When she arrived, she had barely changed.  I do remember she had the thickest hair which ran down her back to her waist.  The hairdresser the morning of my wedding couldn’t believe how long it took to dry and comb her out!  She was beautiful.  We did not get any privacy to exchange our thoughts or wishes, but her presence was most appreciated.

I knew that she never quite understood where I came from and I know that Fonda, Iowa, was foreign to me!   Because I was preparing for the wedding and taking care of my big day, she spent a few days being escorted around New England and Manhattan by my brother, who was more than willing, and enjoyed her company.  I believe they had a good time.  My brother still remembers that she was facinated with all of the bridges and the islands making up New York City and the boroughs!  She  expressed surprise that she could see Long Island from the seashore halfway up the coast of the State of Connecticut, where my family had a summer home.  Donna always told me that there was nothing near Fonda, so when she traveled up the New England Thruway and up and down Route 1, Donna couldn’t believe the number of cities, towns and villages that were passed.  There was a lot of territory in Iowa, but not as many people per square mile.

She never shared with me anything concerning her service in the Air Force and never announced her engagement or wedding (probably, that should have been my first clue).  Sometime over the years, her husband, who was a graduate of the Air Force Academy and a career officer, started sending “His” yearly Holiday letter to families, friends and Academy buddies.  Donna would write one line across the bottom attempting to make some sort of personal connection, but after a few of those letters followed by my attempts to get her to write, I realized the process was failing us both.

Admittedly, we stopped exchanging Christmas cards in the mid nineties.    As her family grew and her education increased, I guess that my life was not interesting enough for her effort and it became painfully clear, when I finally figured out, that I only received the card and letter after I sent her one.  I didn’t know that she was suffering from breast cancer when I stopped writing.  The last picture I received was of a happy family of five.

In the obituary that my husband found online, it stated that she spent 7 years fighting the disease and during that time she completed 3 albums for her sons which showed them who she was, and how she spent her life.  I wonder if there was even one line or one picture of me during our our time at Loretto Heights College or from my wedding in Greenwich, Ct., in 1974.

If I had the opportunity to send my condolences, I would have told her sons about some special moments that their mom and I had long ago.  I would have told them that their mother introduced me to romance novels.  She devowered them like chocolate.  Donna was in love with love and looked for the guys who had chemistry (appropriate for a scientist).   “Your Father’s Mustache” was our Friday night place of choice, senior year.  She had a car and was generous about giving me a lift to Laramer Square, but I usually went home with other Loretto Lovelies or by bus, if you can believe that!

On my 21st Birthday, (I was the last senior in our dorm to turn the magic number) she came down to my room to have some cake, and we stayed up all night discussing where the time had gone and our connections over the years.  I was going to the Air Force Academy for the weekend to attend a dance, concert and a party at an officer’s home.  She was shocked that I had so much planned.  I explained that all of these years, everyone, including her, had underestimated how my connections at Regis and The Academy had payed off for so many of them, including her.   We laughed and cried that evening over the good, the bad, and the ugly (break-ups)!

I hope that Donna got over her distaste for Turkey!  (She worked hard plucking Turkey feathers in the summer and never wanted to eat the bird again.)  She spared me the gory details, so I still enjoy the festive bird.

I hope that Ladonna Marie spent time with and enjoyed the company of  her children, besides completing the albums.

I hope she gave as much attention to her children and husband over the years that she obviously, gave to her studies.

I hope that she wasn’t angry or disappointed in me.

I hope she remembered me with a smile, like I remember her.

Sometimes I found a quiet place in the living room (never lived in), retreated to my bedroom (I was the only girl for 18 years), or when weather permitted, a cushioned chair on the porch.  I learned at a very young age, that I could mentally escape the chaos of my home and the emotional ups and downs of a large family, by tuning into the pages of these novels.

Remember that TV was still in its infant stage, so most shows were directed to the adults who would hopefully buy the sponser’s products.  Childrens’ Programming was limited and did not inspire much creativity or imagination.  Other than Mr. Wizard’s show, which taught science, most TV for children was sacarine and watered down general audience entertainment.  Preteens were not represented and teens were introduced to “Bandstand” which encouraged them to dance or peaked an interest in music or performing on stage.  Books provided the opportunity for a middle class child like me to escape to another middle class neighborhood with characters my age, who were allegedly smarter and more worldly yet, old fashioned according to today’s standards.

I never thought about how white bread these novels were at the time, because where I grew up, white bread was the norm.  Today, I still enjoy going to the special reading section in Barnes & Noble just this side of the children’s section, where I marvel at the numerous authors exploring unlimited issues and subjects for readers the ages of 10 – 16.  I am disturbed at some of the covers and some of the subjects which have hints of violence or mature subjects, but I do understand that this is not the fifties/sixties and that this age group is exposed to a more diversified world with many more opportunities of exploration due to satillite and cable TV, computers and even the movie industry.  Is there a magical median between the nievety of the fifties/sixties and the brash realities of the 21st century?  Judy Blume’s books brought attention to feelings and subjects, some uncomfortable but necessary, to preteens and teens as times changed and children started to mature faster and earlier.   Years later, the Harry Potter series updated fantasy, although it created some religious controversey, because people confused mystic beliefs with fanciful fiction.

In the fifties and early sixties, Saturday morning movie matinees were  another simple form of imaginery escape.  Generally, I walked to the movie theater downtown with my friends and siblings.   Sometimes, when the weather was poor or if it was a late start to the day, Dad would drive us in the station wagon.  For fifty cents or less, you would see the latest Disney or Warner Brothers cartoons, cowboys like Roy Rogers, Gene Autrey, Hop-a-long Cassidy, and silent film stars  like Laurel and Hardy, Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin.  I lived in the New York City suburbs with not on a ranch in sight, but during those Saturday morning moments, I was out West with the best!

We walked several miles to and from the movie theater because that’s how villages were created in those days.  No one thought about pedifiles, kidnappings or someone getting lost because we all knew each other, we all worshiped together and seperately in peace, and we all watched out for each other in those days following WWII during the Cold War Era.  There was still an innocence even though we all practised getting under our desks in case of nuclear attacks.  I remember I used to send my message to God that if a nuclear bomb dropped, please let me be killed and all my loved ones immediately!   The few images that I had seen documented after WWII left a lasting impression.  I didn’t want to suffer, nor anyone I knew, from the effects of radiation which then meant a slow death.  More than forty years later, the irony does not escape me, that I spent more than six weeks getting radiation on purpose, to kill cancer.  Killing and Curing with radiation all in a lifetime, imagine!

At the time, the Vietnam War was still raging and young men continued to be drafted; so for the men returning from the Tour, jobs were plentiful and rightfully so.  For educated women at the time, not so much!  The Liberation Of  Women was talked about and featured in articles, but rarely practiced.  If you studied to be a nurse or a teacher, you could find a job.  If you wanted to join the business world, you were told to get a Masters Degree in a related field.  I guess this would be fine, if you had the money, but it was not in the cards for me.  While sharing an apartment during the summer and with plans to move to another apartment in the fall, I got desperate for some income.  Since working in a bar or on the corner was not an option, I answered an Ad to work at an Employment Agency.  In less than a week, I knew that I was in trouble.

Civil Rights violations were plentiful in this business in 1970.  The boss and the business had code words that you needed to know so that the clients could indicate that blacks or other minorities were not wanted.  I remember being stunned and slightly panicked when I figured out the conspiracy of lies that swirled around the job market.  While calling potential clients to gain access to job listings, the boss realized that I was not following his agenda, and so he fired me at the end of a week.

When I exited the building, I ran into a fellow employee, who said he was late getting back from lunch, and asked where I was headed.  When I explained that I was fired (first time) and then started to cry, he said that I was too smart for the jerk who ran the business and that getting fired was a blessing!  He was handsome and a recent graduate who was looking for work and was using the agency job to seek employment.  I should have kissed him!

I returned to my apartment complex and headed to the pool to read and have a soda.  It was a typical summer Friday afternoon with some people getting off early, some beginning vacation or those who took an extended weekend.  For some reason, the bachelors were everywhere!  One of the guys sat down next to me and asked what I was doing home from work so early.  I said I was fired and began to cry!  The guys came out of the woodwork!  One was a fireman, another a stock broker, another a teacher and they all had to get the story from start to finish.  They also insisted that I switch from soda to beer.  No problem!  They got me laughing and one of them thought that I should contact Federal Authorities because the practices were definitely discriminatory!  Most agreed with me, that because of my lack of working experience, I would probably be dismissed as a bitter employee.

Sears Corporation offered me a Job Training paid position with the stipulation that I relocate to Dallas.  I actually briefly considered making the move, because I wanted to get into business.  Unfortunately, I had limited connections in Texas and thus no real back up plan.  Retail had the reputation of low salaries and benefits which still exists today.

The search continued for several months while my options dwindled along with my savings.  When I came down with toncillitis at twenty-two years old, I flew home, had them removed, and I? made the decision to return to Denver to pack my belongings and move back home.  Dad and Mom made it perfectly clear that they had plenty of work for me; however, indentered servitude did not fill my Treasure Chest nor my bank account.  Living for free at home is not the same as living free!

The Legend Coach just cannot help himself, I guess!  He was voted into the Florida State University Sports Hall of Fame and immediately asked that his entrance be postponed until next year?  Perhaps the date did not fit into his personal schedule or perhaps he had a commitment that he could not postpone.  I understand that award dates are not always convenient for the recipients or their families.  Somehow, I think there is more to this than will be shared with the public.

Perhaps sharing the spotlight with the Legendary Defensive Coach Mickey Andrews was too much for Bobby to accept.

Perhaps a large purse (contractual dollars) for an Integrity Lecture by the Legendary Bowden caused Bobby to pause.   Pardon me if I observed that The Legendary Coach seemed to be in the later years more concerned with making money and less concerned about earning it.  Remember Coach Bowden was not coaching for some years before his publicized exit from FSU.

Perhaps Coach Bobby Bowden felt some distance needed to follow his exit and the results of the NCAA punishment and cost of appeals.

I watched several Tallahassee Sports telecasts and not one member of the local Sports Networks even asked the question, WHY?  I ask, “WHY NOT?”

Please, spare me the Bobby trivia and the historical analysis.  I will always categorize Coach Bowden as Legendary, but I refuse to request Sainthood or continue to encourage him to call the shots.  What is wrong with the picture?  It’s more than fuzzy!  It’s downright interference from the GHOST of FSU PAST!

Living in South Florida during the shuttle missions era provided some opportunities for my son and I to enjoy some unusual moments.  He came up with the practical idea of using the patio lounge chairs so that we could lie down and observe without getting creaks in our neck.  Thanks to NASA, we always had some warning as to the launch of a shuttle or the landing.  When weather permitted, my son and I could set up during the prior moments and position our chairs in the proper direction.  We saw at least two spectacular launches when both of us were off from school or work, depending.  Once or twice during the day (no cloud interference), but the most spectacular, at night (no cloud interference).  When NASA launched a shuttle at night, it was the most unbelievable fireworks display even though we lived hundreds of miles from the launch pad and South, on the opposite side of the state!  The booster rocket was a giant fireball which could be viewed for minutes until it fell from the shuttle as the shuttle left the earth’s atmosphere.  During the daylight launch, the fireball initially was spectacular but the smokey trail as the shuttle climbed was somehow even more mesmerizing.

My son and I observed meteor showers and the northern lights as well as a couple of comets and a couple of eclipses during the years.   He taught me to look at the clouds and the magnificent colors of the sunsets, because he loved to study and observe weather and space.   I always felt more connected to God at those moments, because it gave me some quiet time when I could put things in perspective and I think in a way, that’s what an effect it had on my son, too.

I’d like to think that I influenced my son with the love of the sky, because when he was young enough to understand, I purchased the naming of a star for him.  I continued the tradition in an odd way this year when my son and lovely daughter-in-law were about to celebrate their first anniversary.  Paper is not an easy guide for giving.  Searching the internet for a paper gift that would make them happy and me too, I found a site where they reproduced the night sky of someone’s honeymoon location.  Fabulous!  The tradition continues and grows in meaning!

He was in Denver, receiving medical treatment for injuries incurred during his tour in Vietnam.  He was stationed at Fitzsimons General Army Hospital; however initially, he just told me that he was assigned to Fitzsimons, so I did not realize that he had been injured and was recovering under Doctors’ care.  I never thought to ask about his assignment when he introduced himself and asked me to dance.  He was very tall, thin, with light brown shiny hair that bordered his brows, which was so handsome and hip for a soldier.  I just didn’t connect the dots!  I was too busy judging him for his brains and sense of humor, in other words, trying to eliminate a possible psycho, that I didn’t think about the obvious.  He was a patient, but not in the psych ward!  Fitzsimons General Army Hospital was the premier hospital for soldiers seriously injured in Vietnam.  I was clueless that first night and we just relaxed and had a good time.  His friends were also fun and good natured and danced every opportunity.

We met at a Denver Club that featured a great dance floor and had introduced “Ladies Night” which meant no admission charge and drinks half price for me.  I was more interested in meeting guys and dancing “my ass off” than drinking at the time!  I remember I went to the club with several other Loretto Lovelies for the manhunt.  For some reason, the evening started out sluggish with most of the guys hanging out by the bar and the Loretto Lovelies and other young women sat patiently around tables while plotting their line of defense or surrender, if you know what I mean.  I have to give him credit, he came over smiled, and introduced himself, and asked me to dance, without caring about the empty dance floor. I remember turning bright red embarrassed that such a together guy had chosen me to approach first!  I loved to dance and I never turned anyone down, unless they were drunk but he didn’t know it at the time.  Once we broke the ice, the other guys came out of the woodwork and the place came alive.  He was a good fast dancer, a soft spoken gentle southerner, who also danced slowly with grace and style.  We danced and danced and when the band took a break we talked and talked about family and hometowns etc.  It was a genuine relaxing evening.  No pressure and no guess work.  By the end of the evening, he asked if I would consider a date for a movie and dinner.  I gave him my number and we went out the next weekend following a couple of calls where we continued to learn more about each other.

He wanted to see the movie MASH which had just premiered and I didn’t object since it was previewed with high ratings.  The similarity of the Korean and the Vietnam Wars were not lost on the college girl or the soldier.  When we exited the car, he told me that we had to walk about a city block  to the theater.  It was a cold and clear night so the walk was invigorating and the conversation easy, when I noticed that he was limping and I asked him if he was okay.  Then I notice that he had a brace that went down the side of his shoe and underneath the sole by his heal.  I asked him if he danced with the brace on the other night, because I couldn’t believe that I had missed the obvious.  He laughed, smiled and assured me that I did indeed miss the obvious.  He told me he thought that I was the most polite young woman he had ever met and then we both laughed when I told him that I wasn’t that good, just distracted by his good looks and good dancing!  We arrived at the movie and as we entered, he said he would explain everything at dinner.  I was fine with that but you can’t imagine how nervous I was during MASH and how sensitive I was to this soldier and his possible reaction to this emotional movie.  The audience was predominently guys with buzz cuts, so soldiers were everywhere.  The laughter was contagious and the spontaneous applause at the end of the movie left me speechless and fighting back the tears.  When we walked out of the movie, he asked me if the brace had made me quiet.  I turned and said it was the movie and all of the emotions I observed during the film and how I had watched him like a hawk and loved how he was so lost in laughter.

This guy was a gem.  He asked me what food I missed from home and at the time my answer was breakfast for dinner which would be pancakes.  There were limited options for this college student with no car living on a campus in the southwest corner of Denver.  Public transportation was great from campus to downtown and other sections but I had never seen or been taken to the equivalent of an Ihop which was International House of Pancakes at that time.  He had the car and he took the time to take me for pancakes.  They tasted like pieces of heaven and he was immediately my candidate for sainthood.  Talk about being a great date!

While we feasted on pancakes and tried every syrup, he told me about his injuries and showed me why he was at Fitzsimons.   The story was absolutely unbelieveable!  He was in the infantry.  He volunteered for a dangerous assignment.  He found a booby trap (IED) with his foot.  The blast went up his foot and leg, then his forearm, and finally his head above his right eye (bangs and the hair style hid the scars).  The brace helped him regain strength and muscle in his leg.  His arm was scarred but in amazing shape covered by long sleeves.  His forehead was dented because they removed part of his scull and saved his life.  His forehead made me nervous for him, (like a baby’s soft spot) but there were no visible scars, so it was not shocking or ugly or frightening.  He was at Fizsimons recovering from surgeries and going through physical therepy.  The next major surgery would be to put a plate in his forhead to replace the substantial piece of scull blown apart a removed by the MASH surgical units while trying to save his leg, arm, brain; in other words, his life.  He saved the best for last.  He didn’t know it at the time, but he voluteered on April Fool’s Day!  When he woke up and started his recovery the Doctors couldn’t resist showing him the date of his injuries.  I am not kidding!  We were both laughing during his story, and because it was true, the telling of the story made us both laugh more hysterically considering his stupidity and my astonishment!  He was such a mature spirit that I knew I would not be the only person to miss his disability? What disability?

There were other dates where we went to the foothills to enjoy the scenery.  We visited a beautiful city park and I did go to Fitzsimons to meet some of his buddies who were recovering in various stages.  Our time together was always interesting, fun and a form of freedom for both of us.  I escaped from the books and papers and he from the stress of being a wounded and recovering soldier.

Before we parted ways, he took me to an all night drive-in with horror films as the theme.  That car was stocked with pillows for comfort, soda and snacks.  I think we lasted until about 3 AM before we got our money’s worth of screams, fake blood and bad music.  That evening was relaxing and controlled, with soft sweet kissing between the munchies and the bathroom breaks.  He was absolutely the most patient man I ever knew! I know he recognised that I was very determined to keep control.  He really cared for me and I for him.  The timing was all off!  He needed to get back to his home and family and I needed time to mature with or without family.  Vietnam matured him like so many others at that time.  I recognized it before he did.  I truly trust in God that he eventually married the girl of his dreams, created the family he richly deserved, and lives the life of success and peace he so valiantly earned.

The setting was straight out of a novel.  It was a traditional brick mansion with estate grounds.  It was previously owned by Claire Booth Luce ( famous playwright) in the Connecticut suburbs and not far from our homes.  We arrived with plenty of luggage.  You know, curlers, creams, changes of clothes, snacks and more snacks!  Evidently, some of the moms thought the nuns would have us fasting.  Believe me, nuns know how to cook and love to eat like the rest of us, and a retreat is no exception!

Besides all of the presentations, there were assignments for all of us to complete in order for us to participate in group discussions with the the priest, nuns and guest speakers.  Oh there were WHINERS and SLUGS but the majority of us went with the flow and enjoyed the experience.  Ecumenicism was being encouraged by the Holy Father, Pope John XXIII.  He felt that we (people) all had more in common than we saw, and that all religions needed to be understanding, inclusive and tolerant of each other.  Pope John XXIII had insight and a spirit that led to many changes in the Catholic Church that allowed Catholics around the world to worship with greater understanding and ease. The Ecumenical Council called by the Pope  led to changes in rules and regulations which made many believers more comfortable and some uncomfortable.  Young people generally are more flexible and I remember our discussions were thoughtful, insightful and humorous, when appropriate.  The consensus was a thumbs up for Pope John XXIII and change.

Then it happened.  The lights went out!  The great blackout!  Remember when NYC went black and so did most of the Northeast?  I was in the mansion with my classmates and it was dark and spooky!  Leave it to the nuns and God who patiently led us to the mansion’s chapel and to gather candles.  It is a rare sight to see actual flames in our Catholic Churches now, but then, very common.  The nuns had all sizes and shapes and containers that kept them safe in our hands.  They were all bees wax, which meant they burned clean and slowly.  What a relief and what a sparkling delight!   The hallways were all aglow and we brought out pillows and quilts and gathered as if by a camp fire.

Remember the extra baggage that some of the girls brought?  Oh yeah, the Kool-Aid packets came out with the brownies, chips etc.  The moms also thought about paper plates, paper cups and napkins.  Yeah moms!  Big surprise, no one ever thought to send flash lights in case of a blackout!  It was probably 3 AM before we started to fade and we had chapel at 8 am.  Perhaps all of the sugar countered all of the starches at least for a short time.  Talk about discussions!  Absolutely everything was discussed that night.  Religion played a role in the first few hours when all of our fears were directed to our Guardian Angels.  Humanity created the opportunity for a sleep-over extraordinaire complete with all the drinks and junk food and we, the senior class, took full advantage of the opportunity!

The next day, the priest requested that we all make a good confession to end the weekend with grace.  My friend and I were up for the opportunity, until we observed one of our classmates enter the confessional and stay for 15 minutes or more.  We all were looking back and forth wondering if something had happened to the priest or to the young lady.  It seemed like an eternity!  The average confession time for young girls was about 3 minutes.  Most of the time taken up by the required format.  I remember the worst thing that I confessed at that age was cursing, lies or eating the tempting hot dog, on a Friday, to see if it would taste different or if lightning would strike.  No wonder our fellow teens were so pro Pope and Ecumenical reform.

When my classmate exited, she was red faced and teary.  She really looked sorry!  My guess was that she got more than, “say three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers and try to do better”.  I looked at my friend and she looked at me and we quietly left the chapel.  Neither one of us wanted to follow in her shoes!  How stupid was that?  The priest was probably looking forward to the minor offenses and the less complicated world of my friend and I.  I’ll never know what my classmate confessed, but I have my suspicions.  She was engaged at the ripe age of 18 to a man in his late twenties.  She appeared to be very experienced or should I say worldly.  She wore a rock the size of Plymouth when out of school (not allowed in uniform).  She always said that she and he had the families’ blessings!  Perhaps the word connected might be a clue.  She was one of the most mature girls in our class and that maturity may have been confessed to the priest.  Holy Smokes!  Whatever she talked about really got our attention!

My friend and I waited a few minutes to gain back our composure and then proceeded to enter the confessional.  We both exited quickly and quietly with a sense of relief and peace.  That’s the feeling you get under normal? circumstances.  Our senior class survived the weekend, and so did our confessing classmate.  Confession and forgiveness is really good for the soul.

When we returned home and found out that the blackout was so extensive, we were relieved and grateful that our families had survived the dark night too!

If you read about that black-out, you will read about the generosity and caring of many strangers.  The largest city affected was New York City.  You will read about neighborhood gatherings, and individuals really being generous of spirit to each other.  There were no homeless that night.  Everyone’s stoop or doorstep was welcoming with candles and friendly conversation.  There was singing and dancing in the streets.  There was a senior class in Connecticut enjoying the company, conversations, discussions and prayers together for one weekend.  All of our actions in and out of the City were exactly what Pope John XXIII encouraged and expected of all of us.

UFI – Useless Friggin Imbecile with teeth

UUFI – Unidentified Friggin Useless Imbecile – know they are imbeciles but don’t know if they had teeth

A move to Florida years ago was the time and place my husband and I came up with these comedic descriptions to help relieve the tension the TFIs and UFIs created for us.  Florida was in the beginnings of the building boom and small independent contractors and major corporations alike hired anyone.   No one worried about abilities or education because time was money.

Sometimes you can’t tell if the work was done by TFIs or UFIs.  When we unlocked the door to our custom built home (model with our picks of customization), we discovered that the toilet (tanks) in the new house were set in place at various lengths (inches) from the wall.  Some had space so that the tank top went on smoothly and others were squeezed in tight to the wall which made the tops fit too snugly.  The toilet roll holders were placed too far away or right by your side either too high or too low for comfort.  This corporate builder’s only explanation was that sub contractors were hired to do the work.  Now, I realize that these were UUFIs.

One morning as I was leaving for work, I entered my garage, pressed the garage door opener and proceeded to open my car door, when a voice from behind me said, “Hey Lady, can I borrow your electricity?” !  I know I jumped, I just don’t know if it was a record height!  I turned and screamed at this intruder, “Don’t ever do that to someone again and get out of my way and off my property’.  This UFI (with teeth and a gorgeous smile) wouldn’t give up.  Next door, they were building a house and the electricity had not been connected by Florida Power and Light, so they wanted to use my electricity.  I asked if he knew about generators.  I said that’s what you need, or you need to wait until the Power Company connects you.  It got serious when he started mumbling under his breath about me being a bitch.  I went right up to him and I said that he would be a thief, because there was no way he had any intention of borrowing electricity.  He would just use it, and then leave me with the bill.  He got out of my way!

Then I proceeded to the Construction Trailer to report to the Corporate builder that I would call the sheriff if any inconsistencies occurred with my utilities because stealing is what the subcontractors were considering.  The boss in the trailer tried to ignore me and made jokes with some workers about this situation, until I asked for his boss’s name and the number to call.   I was going to take names and numbers until someone took me seriously.  Suddenly, the snickering stopped and he said that he would visit the site and take care of the problem.

The TFIs and the UFIs got together while I was at work and decided that they would put up an UGLY orange fence between my property and the construction next door.  The underlying message was to get even with the “bitch”!  That sent me to the Corporate Model location and the General Sales Manager.  He started in with the condescending attitude of a do-nothing manager who just thought I would go away.  He was a Sales Manager and had nothing to do with construction.  He really wasn’t listening, until I asked for his boss’s name and number.  Then he started to discuss the situation with a “I will talk to the Site Manager”.  My answer was to inform him that if the fence was not removed this evening, that I would be outside all weekend sitting in my driveway with a sign that would read, “This Corporation hires theives and jokesters”.  I told him that I was not above calling  the local press and explaining the situation with the “Borrowing of Utilities” from the homeowners while they were building for potential buyers.  The fence was removed fifteen minutes later.  I went to the local hardware store and purchased locks for the outdoor utility boxes.  Problem solved or so I thought!

Later that year, we had two visitors from Connecticut arriving to stay with us before we could get home from work.  We hid a key and told them to let themselves in and make themselves at home.  Does it make the story more interesting to note that these were two policeman with years of experience?  They settled in and were in the living room relaxing when I got home.  After the kisses and hugs, Scotty asked me if I had given permission to the roofer across the street to use our water.  Evidently, the UFIs across the street did not have water service yet but they needed water for construction so they had been visiting our side yard to cart buckets of water to the other property.

I told our friends to stay put and to watch in case I got into trouble.  I went to the site and called up to the UFI on the roof that I had two friends visiting and I wanted some information on the builder for them.  The UFI came down and I asked him who the builder was of this home.  He smiled and said he was the contractor.  I asked him for a card and he gave me one.  That’s when I loaded, cocked and began to fire my words carefully.  I thanked  him for his card and explained that if he or anyone else stole water or any materials from my home that I would call the sheriff and have him arrested for stealing.  I then informed him that there were two off duty police officers sitting in my living room observing his theiving and my approach.  He got into his truck and left with tires screaching.  No more problems!  Good story for the cops who were howling with belly laughs when I came home!

Please note that just because a woman is assertive that does not make her a bitch and Florida is not the only place where TFIs and UFIs exist!  Even in established communities and with the best builders, there is always the possibillity of poor workmanship or theft.  Life actually continues!

There is evidence (photos) that I dabbled with ballet for about 2 years of lessons and the mandatory recitals.  The five positions are firmly established in my mind along with posing and gently jumping, pointing toes and expressive relaxed hands.  Notice, I don’t mention brilliant choreography or inspiring music.  Perhaps that just tells you that a record player with speakers took some of the magic out of the moment!

Then there were ballroom dance lessons in 7th and 8th grade.  The young ladies wore white gloves, semi formal dresses, stockings and low heels.  The dresses were tea length and very pretty.  When you went to Catholic School and wore uniforms day in and day out, dressing up was like playing model.  It was the only opportunity for the girls to show the guys that we were individuals who could attract attention other than academically. I must point out that our clothes were not costumes and there wasn’t even the hint of cleavage, panties etc.  My favorite dress was dark emerald green with a boat neck collar that mimicked some of the stars in the movies at that time.  I thought I came across as mature and mysterious.  Little did I know how delusional any of us can be at any moment!  One of the memories that stands out is that in 7th grade I was five feet 6 inches tall and my average dance partner was five feet 4 inches!  When I was lucky enough to get a tall guy, believe me, my posture and attitude peaked.  I still can remember the greasy hair that was all the rage for the young men at the time and how it came into play when you were twirled or released.  Yuck!  At least ballroom dancing taught me enough to be comfortable at weddings for years to come.  Ballroom dancing also introduced Sadie Hawkins where the young ladies were able to chose a partner.  Just like years later, you had to be very confident yet cautious, because the females became enraged if you picked their man!  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Next came “AMERICAN BANDSTAND”!   Yeah, the television had been invented!   Preteens and teens tuned into the Philadelphia show which showcased Rock ‘n Roll and Motown for all of us to enjoy and learn how to dance with our own age groups.  Dancing became rhythm and choreography!  Dancing was also separate as well as in the grips of the guy you loved.  We watched every afternoon and imitated and exercised without even thinking about it.   Oh yeah, that’s when the young girls learned about makeup and fashion too!  Also, the louder the volume on the TV, the louder you could sing along, and we did!

During my college years, ballroom dancing became a life saver, when I was introduced to Zoomies (Air Force Academy Cadets) and the military balls at Arnold Hall.  PDAs (public displays of affection) were a no no!  I am serious!  Not to worry, we found ways to connect and places to connect besides the dance floor.  A valuable lesson was taught by a great zoomie friend, “Never lead your partner off the dance floor when the band stops.  Let him make the move.  Don’t assume that he doesn’t want to stay out on the floor with you.”  Dancing, dating and music continued to be a priority and played a significant role in my recognizing my future and present husband!

My husband was dating a fellow employee.  He was a policeman (a man in uniform).  I suggested to my friend that  her boyfriend must have some single friends and that perhaps he would be willing to fix me up.  She asked and he accepted the challenge.  That night was very special.  Forget my date!  Let us just say that he was not truly available and it took me just minutes to figure this out.  I was polite, but cautious, because I didn’t want to close the door about  meeting other SINGLE cops.  We had a table at a local club where the band was exceptional!  Our waitress was a knockout!  She had a figure, skin, and hair to die for!  My future husband was flirtatious but respectful and I found that amusing.  My date was obnoxious and obvious!  Need I say more?  My girlfriend was so enraged by and insecure that she kept trying to outdo everyone and everything to get attention.  It didn’t work!  When my date never asked me to dance, her date asked.  I didn’t hesitate.  He was much taller and handsome, so my posture and my attitude just peaked.  When the fast dance ended, I didn’t lead him off the floor.  I waited and he and I chatted when the music started up again.  You guessed it!  SLOW DANCE!  Yeah!  When he put his arm around me and held my hand, I knew!  Don’t worry.  I didn’t let on to anyone that I planned to meet him again and make the first move!  Weeks later, my friend ( fellow employee) left the job and that’s when my radar and plan went into effect.  I confided in a boss, who sent me on many errands to banks when he saw that THE POLICEMAN was on duty doing traffic!   It is amazing what the magic of dance can do!

I know that I was quiet, which was not my style, but my parents were strangely silent too!  We were all very nervous.  I don’t know why Dad was still anxious, since the night before, he made it perfectly clear to me, that if I got pregnant, he would find a convent far away and send me there to rot!  What a comforting thought, since he had never discussed boys, sex or anything personal with me in 18 years.  He also chose my last night at home to teach me how to use a checking account.  This was some feat, considering he rarely used one himself on a daily basis.  My Dad had numerous shoe boxes of receipts for his accountant.  He made a lot of money, spent a lot of money and managed that money pretty good, for many years.  His complex explanation of keeping a checking ledger, left me nodding in agreement but vowing silently, to use a simple method of beginning balance followed by debits or deposits.  It worked very nicely for many years, except that I always felt compelled to look for the few cents that I was off.  I guess by my Dad’s concern that I was supposed to gain all of this last minute knowledge through osmosis!  Years later computers and the internet made it all so simple to keep track of all funds! Thank God!

We got to the airport without incident.  My bags were checked, I received my seating pass and we proceeded to the gate.  In those days, everyone could say good-bye and watch your plane taxi away.  I was one of the first to board and held back my emotions, one of my virtues and vices to this day.  I do think it was good for Mom, who must have been nervous about her 7th on the way and her 2nd eldest off to the West, or maybe not!

I remember finding my seat which God placed next to the best looking guy I had ever seen!  I smiled.  He said hello and stated that he was returning to Denver University.  I said that I was headed to Loretto Heights College and he said that we could share a cab in Denver.  I explained that this was my first flight, I was a freshman, and I had never been west of Pennsylvania.  He said, with a grin, that we had a long flight and he would try to guide me through some of my fears.  This DU student said he would make sure we got our luggage and a cab when we got to Denver and at that point, I was sold on enjoying my trip!  This handsome guy was so confident and friendly!

Then I had an opportunity to show my generous side which he duly noted.  A young woman got on our flight and was experiencing “The Ugly Cry”.  The stewardess came over and asked if we were students and could we help this young woman to calm down.  I asked the young woman where she was headed to school, and she said Loretto Heights College.  I introduced myself as a fellow Loretto Lovely and explained that my new found friend would make sure we both got to campus.  He was a man of experience, so we didn’t have to worry.  She smiled briefly when she saw the DU student.  She continued to sniffle and everyone kept passing her tissues.  She was homesick already.  Her seat was a few rows ahead of us, so once the plane began to taxi, the stewardesses kept her busy!

When I got back to my seat, my handsome seat mate expressed concern that I might end up in tears like her.  I remember making him laugh when I asked him to look out at the gate windows for the woman in turquoise.  When he spotted her and her obvious pregnancy, he turned to me and I said, yep, that’s my mom!  She’s pregnant with my 6th sibling.  I ‘m hoping she has a girl and the baby takes all the pressure off me!  I’ve been the only girl for 18 years!  He smiled and asked, “escaping?’  I said it sure feels like it!  We both talked and laughed the entire trip.  He gave me valuable information about Denver, higher education, and survival as a student.   His girlfriend was a lucky woman, if you ask me!

Unfortunately, I never saw him again after the cab dropped him off at DU and the “Ugly Cry” and I proceeded to Loretto Heights.

The “Ugly Cry” girl was assigned to the same dorm as me.  She continued to be homesick and lasted less than a week, which was no surprise to me!