It caught my eye as I drove down the bypass.
It was a very odd looking tree.
On further inspection, it was not a tree at all.
It was a cell phone tower disguised as a tree.

I had never seen anything like it; thinking that it looked more absurd than realistic.
Researching it later, I found that there are towers made to look like Douglas Firs, cactus, and even pineapples.

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I was doing research for something I was writing.
I called a university library that had a collection of letters by the author in question.
I talked to the quintessential librarian.

I could picture him in my mind’s eye: glasses, professorial in appearance.
He spoke with a New England accent.
A true gentleman; his demeanor made me smile.
He was quick, efficient, and very helpful.
Though the beginning of our conversation didn’t start out that way.

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My phone was in my purse.
It was buried under my wallet, a pack of tissues, my lipstick, a notebook, and a pen.
Hours later I realized that my phone was not in its usual place.

I went to retrieve it.
Five text messages and one voicemail were missed during that time.
Nothing urgent, but for those hours I was unreachable.

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For some reason, I was remembering suit shopping with my husband.
This particular time was years ago, when we only had two children.
Mu husband had finished courses for his MBA degree and graduation was approaching.
I insisted he actually walk with his class; he would have been fine with the diploma alone.

It will be good for the girls to see you was probably my reasoning at the time.
Though how much a two-year-old and a four-year-old would grasp was to be determined.
We sat on bleachers; I wondered if the gap between rows would swallow our daughters.
It didn’t and thankfully we left with our two girls intact.

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When my daughter first became a teacher, she taught kindergarten.
How different her classroom looked then compared to her second grade classroom now.
Kindergarten has play kitchens and manipulatives to practice counting.
It has lots of crayons, art supplies, play-doh, and picture books.

The one thing she needed at the time were small carpet squares.
The children would all gather around her wicker rocking chair as she read to them.
As they had their circle time, she wanted them to have their own little carpet to sit on.

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Until I was thirteen years old, I bit my nails.
Nothing anyone said or did would get me to stop.
Promises of a manicure…
Hoping to tap the top of my desk and actually make a noise…

Nothing worked…until my thirteenth birthday.
I can still remember my mother handing me the small box.
I opened it to find a beautiful ring.
Since my birthday is in July, it was my birthstone…a ruby.

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My husband’s father died last year.
Following his younger brother’s lead, he extensively researched the family genealogy.
We were all given a book many years ago, with the complete genealogy, up to that time.
He told his children that it was up to them to continue the story.

More grandchildren and even great-grandchildren have been born since then.
Each of our homes has a sturdy link to the past.
For my five children, this is a priceless gift.

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I am not a TV channel watcher.
I would much rather choose a good movie and then turn the TV off.
There have been a few shows in my life that I have really enjoyed.
One that still makes me laugh is the Lucy Show.

Two episodes stand out in my memory.
One where Lucy is making a commercial about a vitamin tonic: Vitameatavegamin.
The other when Lucy and Ethel worked in a candy factory.

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