Sitting out here in the backyard of Jack & Jean’s place on Dorrance Lane.
Underneath the two great trees they planted.
Remembering the trampoline of my youth & the swing set & fort I bought for Nick & how Sam & the sons & daughters of my siblings enjoyed both.
Missing the hammock & reading to the boys.
And suddenly, I feel the need to climb a tree.
This is an insane idea at my age & state. But if I bring out a step ladder, I can get there.
Getting down will be a bitch.
But how much fun to linger there.
I am going to find my way to that limb.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Greatest Thing since Coca-Cola
My friend Sue Ann McLauchlan Faulkner posted this on Facebook today:
Did you know that 124 years ago today on May 8, 1886, the first Coca-Cola was served? So let's celebrate by opening an ice-cold Coca-Cola and sharing some happiness with others today.
When I was a junior at El Paso’s Coronado High School, General Electric transferred my father to Houston. A place he once vowed he would never live. Too damned hot & humid.
I was seventeen, beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin. Totally entrenched in the drama of high school in the seventies. I was a finalist for class favorite – quite an accomplishment for a skinny nerd attempting to traverse all the levels of society that make up high school. I was on student council (the House, not the Senate). One of my best friends was on the football team.
At the time, unknown to anyone, I was suffering from a severe thyroid disease. I lost weight, I lost my prowess as a math whiz, I seldom slept, I forgot my class schedule. I thought I was going mad, that I was losing my mind.
Keep in mind, this was the late sixties & early seventies. Many of my friends were experimenting with drugs. But they all put the word out that no one was to introduce anything to me: She is already flying.
My friends compensated for me. The two Susies in my life, Aronson & Borschow, moved into my locker. They helped keep track of my schedule. I remember so many times, feeling lost & someone leading me, whispering: It is time for English. This period is World History. Jaki, you are supposed to be in Chemistry in the next building.
I remember the times when no one was near & I was forced to go to the office & say: My name is Jaki Ettinger & I need a copy of my schedule. Looking back, no one in the office found it strange that I came time after time for my schedule. But it was the late sixties & early seventies.
Many mornings, I would awake long before dawn, climb over our rock fence and make my way across the desert, climb a hill, and watch the sun rise.
There is nothing as beautiful or as serene as sunrise or sunset in the mountains.
So, I was not happy about moving to a place I only remembered from vacations: hot, humid, flat, unprotected. Not to mention attending a high school named after a man I personally held responsible for the onset of the Vietnam War.
Or about moving to a school where no one was aware that I might be a bit off-balance.
My friends gave me a surprise going away party at Betsey Kerr’s house. My last day at school, I had a party in every class. That evening, I attended a dress rehearsal of Brigadoon. And my dearest nearest friends took me to Grigg’s – one of my favorite Mexican restaurants.
The next day, fortified by sandwiches provided by my friend Susie Aronson, I walked through our garage, looking at the moving boxes.
On every box marked for my room, I wrote: Jaki is Great.
When we finally moved into our house in what is now Meadows Place, Texas, Fort Bend County, bordering Houston, I found a note underneath one of my proclamations that I was great:
Jaki is the greatest thing since Coca-Cola.
T
Did you know that 124 years ago today on May 8, 1886, the first Coca-Cola was served? So let's celebrate by opening an ice-cold Coca-Cola and sharing some happiness with others today.
When I was a junior at El Paso’s Coronado High School, General Electric transferred my father to Houston. A place he once vowed he would never live. Too damned hot & humid.
I was seventeen, beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin. Totally entrenched in the drama of high school in the seventies. I was a finalist for class favorite – quite an accomplishment for a skinny nerd attempting to traverse all the levels of society that make up high school. I was on student council (the House, not the Senate). One of my best friends was on the football team.
At the time, unknown to anyone, I was suffering from a severe thyroid disease. I lost weight, I lost my prowess as a math whiz, I seldom slept, I forgot my class schedule. I thought I was going mad, that I was losing my mind.
Keep in mind, this was the late sixties & early seventies. Many of my friends were experimenting with drugs. But they all put the word out that no one was to introduce anything to me: She is already flying.
My friends compensated for me. The two Susies in my life, Aronson & Borschow, moved into my locker. They helped keep track of my schedule. I remember so many times, feeling lost & someone leading me, whispering: It is time for English. This period is World History. Jaki, you are supposed to be in Chemistry in the next building.
I remember the times when no one was near & I was forced to go to the office & say: My name is Jaki Ettinger & I need a copy of my schedule. Looking back, no one in the office found it strange that I came time after time for my schedule. But it was the late sixties & early seventies.
Many mornings, I would awake long before dawn, climb over our rock fence and make my way across the desert, climb a hill, and watch the sun rise.
There is nothing as beautiful or as serene as sunrise or sunset in the mountains.
So, I was not happy about moving to a place I only remembered from vacations: hot, humid, flat, unprotected. Not to mention attending a high school named after a man I personally held responsible for the onset of the Vietnam War.
Or about moving to a school where no one was aware that I might be a bit off-balance.
My friends gave me a surprise going away party at Betsey Kerr’s house. My last day at school, I had a party in every class. That evening, I attended a dress rehearsal of Brigadoon. And my dearest nearest friends took me to Grigg’s – one of my favorite Mexican restaurants.
The next day, fortified by sandwiches provided by my friend Susie Aronson, I walked through our garage, looking at the moving boxes.
On every box marked for my room, I wrote: Jaki is Great.
When we finally moved into our house in what is now Meadows Place, Texas, Fort Bend County, bordering Houston, I found a note underneath one of my proclamations that I was great:
This is a declaration of a childish, immature, unimaginative mind.
The correct declaration should be:
Jaki is the greatest thing since Coca-Cola.
T
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
About Douglas the Purple Mouse
When we were still living on Morningstar Lane, and I was attending Cabell Elementary, and Sue Ann McLauchlan was my best friend, at some point in some year, Sue gave me a set of pins.
Two purple mice with crystal eyes and gold toned tails.
Sue moved away first, then my family & I moved from Dallas to El Paso.
But I always kept those mice with me.
Most people who know me well understand that, at heart, I am a bit shy. Others find the concept out of sync with the Jaki Jean they know.
But, in high school, I was shy & eager to meet new & interesting people. And a bit demented.
So I retrieved one of those mice, pinned it to the inner lapel of my orange corduroy coat, & started introducing Douglas.
Whenever there was someone I thought I wanted to know, I would approach them & say:
Excuse me, my friend Douglas would like to meet you. He is a bit shy.
Then they would ask to meet Douglas & I would open my coat & say This is Douglas.
Douglas took me a long way at Coronado High School. I met a lot of people. It was the late sixties & early seventies & sometimes people sought me out to meet Douglas.
When one of his eyes fell out & his tail broke, we had a funeral & buried Douglas in one of the beds in the patio, somewhere outside the English department.
And when my father was transferred to Houston & we had to leave, my friends & I dug up Douglas.
He is with me still.
As is Sue Ann McLauchlan Faulkner.
Two purple mice with crystal eyes and gold toned tails.
Sue moved away first, then my family & I moved from Dallas to El Paso.
But I always kept those mice with me.
Most people who know me well understand that, at heart, I am a bit shy. Others find the concept out of sync with the Jaki Jean they know.
But, in high school, I was shy & eager to meet new & interesting people. And a bit demented.
So I retrieved one of those mice, pinned it to the inner lapel of my orange corduroy coat, & started introducing Douglas.
Whenever there was someone I thought I wanted to know, I would approach them & say:
Excuse me, my friend Douglas would like to meet you. He is a bit shy.
Then they would ask to meet Douglas & I would open my coat & say This is Douglas.
Douglas took me a long way at Coronado High School. I met a lot of people. It was the late sixties & early seventies & sometimes people sought me out to meet Douglas.
When one of his eyes fell out & his tail broke, we had a funeral & buried Douglas in one of the beds in the patio, somewhere outside the English department.
And when my father was transferred to Houston & we had to leave, my friends & I dug up Douglas.
He is with me still.
As is Sue Ann McLauchlan Faulkner.
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