On July 4, 1776, the United States came to be. Then, 100 years later, in 1876, Alexander Graham Bell made the first successful telephone call in Boston, Massachusetts. Fast-forward nearly 100 more years after that—to 1974, Stuttgart, Germany—a 6-year-old Army brat (me) was having the first telephone call of my life. I was talking to my gramma in North Carolina, and it was complicated. We were connected by a telephone operator.
Who? Me? Die? Nope, that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. These bad habits of mine might be harmful for you, but I’ve got this. At least, that’s what I thought and how I lived for the first four decades of my life.
“If you can lean, you can clean!” I heard the not-so-soothing voice of my Burger King manager, Todd, below.
I remember a flurry of women around me, frantically applying makeup and hurriedly pulling on red dresses. My Aunt Candy was in the middle of it all, wearing a long white gown and a veil. My sister walked into the room carrying a basket of flowers, also wearing a long white gown—a tiny replica of Aunt Candy’s dress. I was 4 years old and brimming with joy—until suddenly, they were all gone. As I sat with my babysitter, it hit me: I was not going to be part of this “wedding” thing everyone had been talking about for months.
One thing I love about Facebook is the “memories” feed. I enjoy looking back at past years—it’s like a journal in some ways. One thought that often crosses my mind is, “Gee, I wish I were as fat as I thought I was then.”
I have always loved the holiday season. My mother went full tilt from Thanksgiving through Christmas, going out of her way to make every moment special and memorable. Since she passed away, I go overboard decorating, crafting, gifting, and cooking — because it makes it feel like she’s still here with me.
We have a Sunday tradition at my house: we pile into our king-sized bed with our pets and watch football. A king-sized bed may sound nice and roomy — but it can get pretty crowded when we share it with three dogs and a cat.
It is easy to wax nostalgic this time of year. I walk through the Halloween aisles in stores, amazed by how intricate some of the costumes are. They are so realistic, I can hear my inner child screaming with envy, especially if I am looking at a princess costume. Back in 1974, all I wanted to do was put on a long, silky gown and tiara and go door to door howling “trick or treat.” Of course, back then I had to settle for a polyester jumper with a gown painted on it and a plastic mask with a built-in tiara.
I never really understood what people meant by having an “out-of-body experience” — until one winter day in early 2022.
A new school year is just weeks away. It has been decades, but I still remember my kindergarten teacher. I never knew her last name – my classmates and I called her Katie, because she said we could. However, I called her Miss Katie because even though this was my first experience in public school, something felt weird about not having some sort of prefix before an adult’s name.
