Monday, August 31, 2015

Who I was: Part 2

For college, I decided to stay home and attend Pittsburg State University. During that time, I learned a few very important life lessons. For example, I ascertained that it is in poor taste to overcommit professionally. I also spent some time figuring out who I was.

Also during that time, my mother got sick again. I don’t talk about this much in passing, but I took a year off college, in part, to care for her. I also met a new friend during that time.

When I went back to college, I joined the university’s newspaper staff and eventually became an editor.

My new friend was Chris Wilson. I had completely forgotten about the transfer students, and one surprised me. He was friends with some people I had known for a very long time. After almost a year, Chris decided it would be OK for us to be a couple. I was obviously very patient then. Four short months later, we were engaged.

Only the months didn’t seem brief then. My mother’s health got progressively worse. We set the wedding date for almost five months later, hoping she could make it. Sadly, she didn’t.

Chris and I stayed in Pittsburg long enough for me to get my degree, then we were off to Springfield. At the time, my dad was living alone in Buffalo, Mo. He was by himself for the first time in about 30 years. Then he met a kind widow with no children of her own. Basically, there was more than enough room in her heart for a couple of kids, their significant others, grandpups and eventually grandchildren.

After about six years in Springfield, I finally found work where I thought I belonged: at a free clinic. 

Meanwhile, Chris and I traveled. And we ate. And we went to concerts.

This concludes part two of my partial autobiography. To be continued.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Who I was: Part 1

Some of you knew me before I had a stroke, while others met me after or as a result. Anyway, it’s time for an autobiography. A partial one, that is. Because I am far from done.

I was born in Springfield, but my family lived in Mountain Grove, Mo. While there, I went to Hawaii and became a big sister. Life clearly wasn’t about me anymore. For a frame of reference, I was 3. We moved when I was 11, and to a town even smaller than Mountain Grove, Mo.: Mount Vernon, Mo. There isn’t even a Walmart. That’s how tiny it is.

Next, we relocated to Pittsburg, Kan. I was in eighth grade. When I toured the high school, it seemed so big. I decided the smaller made sense and went to the Catholic high school instead. Note: There is not an athletic bone in my body. Also note: I am not Catholic. Two big red flags. Both athleticism and religion were important. I transferred after my sophomore year. At Pittsburg High School (yes, the behemoth one), it wasn’t as important to have athletic prowess. I said not as important because, of course it was. It was, after all, high school.

I did OK, though, because of the wider variety of activities. For example, the newspaper. Credit for me even knowing I enjoy writing goes to my creative writing teacher in 10THgrade. The rest of high school was fine, though I spent some time being confused about life.

This concludes part one of my partial autobiography. To be continued.