April 22, 2012---thoughts while being (acu) punctured…..

April 22, 2012---thoughts while being (acu) punctured…..


While I was lying on my side with who knows how many acupuncture needles poking up and down my back, my mind took off on one of its wild tangents, drumming up memories long forgotten. I don’t remember the sequence of memories, but I do remember some of the vivid scenes that came to mind. Like when we met Monique, our Dutch “au pair”, at the airport, and she came strolling out of the gate, a gorgeous thing. Long thick blond hair, blue, blue eyes, tall straight back, wearing a long tunic-like black shirt, white pants, and fancy flip-flops, and carrying a tiny purse just large enough for a passport and some money. Wow, I thought, she came all the way from Groningen with just this? No big purse, no carry-on bag, nothing hanging off her shoulders. I figured she was either supremely confident or had not done a lot of international traveling. In hindsight, I think it was a little of both.



And then a glimpse in my mind’s eye of high school math classes—from 10th grade on, a group of us had the same teacher, Miss Andrews. Miss Andrews was the quintessential “old maid” teacher, devoted to her students and to her subject. Our group, as best I remember from my acupuncture-stimulated vision of the class was Kathy Errett, Sue Crittenden, Susan Enns, Ronnie Meier, Koby Koblegard, Luke Edgar, Hebert Perez, Sherry Hayes, John McDermid, Dan Cowles, and a few others. Maybe Don Osteen. Maybe James Kindervater. Maybe Jeanne Gaffney. I forget who else. And me, of course. Once we caused Miss Andrews to cry after she had been called to the door by the principal to give her some message. We, the class, made a lot of noise talking to each other, not even thinking that she might be getting bad news. When she came back inside, she sat down at her desk and put her head down. When someone asked her what was wrong, she lifted up her head, her eyes filled with tears, and said she was so embarrassed that we had “misbehaved” in front of the principal and he would think she wasn’t a good teacher. We were all so ashamed of ourselves, and if I remember right, Ronnie Meier went up to her and put his hand on her back and told her how sorry we all were. I wonder if kids today would do the same.



And my mind also wandered without any conscious direction from me to a scene from Jonathan’s childhood. His grandmother Jane Camp was staying with us at the time, and Jonathan had his little friend Benjamin over for a “play date.” They were both about 5 years old, I’m guessing. Anyhow, Jonathan had told Benjamin with great excitement about an “infestation” of frogs we had had on our side porch, and Benjamin was all agog. When his mother came to pick him up, Benjamin called back to us, “if you see a fwog, give me a wing.” Grandma loved that and would repeat it at opportune and inopportune times.