My Phriend Phyllis

Once or twice in a lifetime, you find someone that just clicks with you.
Such is my friend, Phyllis.

Way back in 1990, I took a teaching position in (to me) a brand new state in a brand new location , in an ancient school building.  It was a fourth grade position.  Elementary school isn't my forte', but I was desperate because my marriage was falling apart.  Getting that job was tantamount to survival for my daughter and me.

That put me on the Fourth Grade Team of a bunch of really, really good teachers.  There were four of us in number, plus one if we considered the Special Ed teacher who worked in one of the classrooms--and she was excellent, too.  I soaked up every bit of wisdom that I could from these folks.  Truth be known, as my home circumstances got "worser and worser", they also became an enormous source of support for me.  Friend Phyllis was a huge part of this team.  After months and months of hearing my daily complaints at lunch, she finally declared:  "We are tired of hearing about what your husband did or didn't do.  We want to hear about what YOU have done."  That was the smack upside the head that I needed in order to understand that it was time to stop being a victim and take control over my own life.  Not sure Phyllis knew that at the time...

I live in Plainfield because of Phyllis.  I needed to get the hell out of Cloverdale where my ex was ensconced as a school administrator.  On her invitation, we spent the better part of a day together looking at places to live.  That later led to a rental home for me...

When it came time to move, I enlisted my aunt, uncle and cousin from Illinois, and Phyllis's twin sons to help.  The distance between homes was slightly over 31 miles and was not without its problems.  Lots of them.  The worst--for me--was the horrible spasm, or whatever it was, in my back.  I reached down to move a box.  Never actually touched it, but suddenly, my back was stricken.  Phyllis took control of the rest of the day while diagnosing for me to OD on ibuprofen.  It was almost a month before I could move somewhat normally again.  Ugh!  I'm fairly certain that Phyllis considered the day a total disaster, but I was moved.

In later months and years, Phyllis and I maintained a walking schedule.  We did the track at Hummel Park for two laps, five days a week in the summers, early in the morning.  We talked and laughed and cackled the whole distance.  When she moved to Mooresville, we changed our venue.  Thereafter, things fell apart.  She was getting divorced and I had fish to fry in my own life.

In the interim in all of this, I had these words from her, all of which hit me where I live:

"Peg, how much to do you like that fireplace?"  ~~Spoken because an electric fireplace that I'd had forever took up an enormous amount of space in the duplex that I rented, just past divorce time.

"It's your JOB to know if your daughter is sexually active."  ~~Spoken just after I'd said that there are some things kids just don't tell their mothers, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Peg, don't fold up.  You'll just have to unfold again."  ~~Spoken when I felt ready to give up on life.

"You have given your daughter all of the wisdom to survive.  It's time to sit back and just enjoy your time with her."  ~~Spoken when I was trying to control things over which I had no control with life with a teenager.

Truth be known, I think Phyllis, somewhat single-handedly, got me through my divorce.  Although she probably won't accept the credit for that, I know what she did and how I responded to it.

A couple of days ago, Phyllis and I attended the funeral of a former school administrator.  I had found a place in the pews to hide my rollator/walker to wait for the services to start.  Suddenly, a person stood in front of me and said, "Move your walker so I can scoot in beside you!"  Not "Hi, how are you?  May I sit with you?"  It was Phyllis.  She totally knew that she could be my pew buddy.  She didn't even need to ask.  And we sat in that pew, crying over the songs and giggling when we had to move the hymnal further away so our old eyes could see it.  We hadn't seen each other in years. but the bond was still there.  Taking up where we left off, no excuses necessary.

I don't know when I will see Phyllis next, but it doesn't really matter.  We are in touch on Facebook.  "God don't make no junk."  I am so blessed to have friends like the people of Monrovia, IN, schools who gave me so much of what I needed for years and years.  God bless them all!