It’s hard to parse out an individual memory when your superpower is being supportive and going with the flow. The very nature of your rock solid reliability can detract from distinct individual events. Here’s a smattering of chronological memories that float to the surface.
The first is auditory. Going to sleep listening to you typing. The earliest memories are of the manual typewriter, and seamlessly morph to electric along the way.
In early elementary school, how you would volunteer at the school fair, wearing a smock with pockets galore. Kids could pick a pocket and reach in for a prize.
Seeing you working the voting booths set up in the hall of the Washington Avenue School, and how you seemed to know everyone.
How as a kid doing marquetry at the kitchen table I was forever sinking X-Acto blades into my fingers, and how you would first look in the bathroom off the kitchen for a bandaid, then the hall bathroom, then head upstairs, where I’d eventually find you organizing the medicine cabinet.
Saving the day continually at the last minute, like when you sewed a guitar case so I could carry a guitar to lessons at the community center.
Going into a record store with a Christmas list from Patti, and asking for the “22 Top” record. (It was ZZ Top.)
Coming up to the Campbell Hall house to take me to lunch on the day I was trialing a pair of found ski’s, and how easily and calmly you shifted from taking me to lunch to taking me for stitches. Then the hours you spent contentedly peeling wallpaper off the walls.
When you and Aunt Evie would be laughing so hard about who knows what that you could barely breath.
Watching my kids crawl into bed with you in the morning, or when they would join you to watch Dancing with the stars.
Your open armed greeting complete with tea and chorag no matter how late at night.
Hosting so many gatherings, from holidays right up to the meal before Melissa and Rich’s wedding.
Our phone calls to catch up, always on Sunday evenings when the rates were lowest. If I missed the call your lengthy and detailed messages that made me wonder during the week, did we talk or was that a message?
Lucy Turns 100! 