Laila

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Children, I’m afraid the time has come for me to tell you the very unfortunate story of Milkshakes, the cat.  It’s almost the anniversary of his famous space voyage on the doomed vessel, Artemis, so the time is right.  Gather round and bring your Kleenex…the task of telling the tale has fallen to me, your Grandmother.

The famous space program, NASA, used to be a secret agency that worked off by themselves in that strange corner of the country we call Florida.  We hardly knew they were up to anything until we heard that the Russians were trying to beat us into space.  That’s when this whole country got in a big hurry for them to put a man into space. 

Before they could do that, they had to make sure that man could survive not only space, but the terrible trip into it and the trip back home.  NASA decided to start working with animals to see if they could withstand the pressures before they asked a man to do it.  

There were dogs, sheep, monkeys, and cats.  Among the cats there was one named  Milkshakes, who especially clever and cuddly and furry.  He was a brown tabby cat with bright green eyes.  He actually got his name because he loved to taste the milkshakes that the scientists bought from the cafeteria, so they found it appropriate to call him Milkshakes.   

Because he was a cat, Milkshakes had never really thought about the future before he got to NASA.  Once he was there, he realized that this world is a dismal place without dreams.  Most of the people working at NASA had dreamed of being scientists and now their dreams were coming true.  Milkshakes realized that dreams were good things, so he began dreaming of being the first cat astronaut. 

He imagined himself flying into our space, in a small kitty spacesuit where he would become weightless and live for days on freeze-dried sardines. 

Alas, it was not meant to be. 

As you all know, cats can’t be trusted to be astronauts.  NASA first realized this as they tested various animals.

“Doctor Went, do you think this dog is smart enough to go into space?”

“No, the dog is not smart enough to go into space.  He is too trusting and will try to follow you once he is strapped in the space capsule.”

Milkshakes was brought in, and many of the scientists told Dr. Went how well he had been doing in the tests.  

“Dr. Went,” the NASA engineers asked him.  “What about this cat?”

“No, no, definitely not,” Dr. Went answered.  “That cat is far too clever for its own good.  It must not be trusted in space with this valuable equipment.  Let him be a nice lap cat to someone.  Someone far away.”

Dr. Went and the NASA engineers decided to put a collection of monkeys and chimpanzees into the space program (if you don’t believe me, ask your parents).  They made a college intern named Ken put Milkshakes in a blindfold and drive him to a helicopter pad, where he was airlifted to Killiniq Island, off the coast of Canada.  There he was dropped on the beach, lonely, cold and depressed.

A family called the Copperfields found him, still blindfolded, while they were vacationing there. 

“Can we keep him?” the children asked, with excitement.

“Yes,” Mr. Copperfield answered and brought him inside where the children promptly dressed him in pajamas.  That night, as the whole Copperfield family slept, Milkshakes made a plan. 

“I bet if I had a simple rocket set-up, I could still get myself into space,” he thought. 

Once the family returned home to their regular house, Milkshakes pretended to be a normal family cat.  

Mr. Copperfield fed him from small tins and bags and Milkshakes ate what was put in front of him.  Mrs. Copperfield made funny faces at him and spoke in a high, lilting voice and Milkshakes purred and rubbed against her leg. The children dressed him up in doll clothes, and Milkshakes went to their tea parties.  

In reality, all Milkshakes thought about was breaking out of the atmosphere. He was always scanning the house for rocket-like machines.  At first, the vacuum seemed promising; then the washing machine, but Milkshakes soon figured (using his extensive knowledge in physics and mathematics) that they would not fly.

One Saturday, Mr. Copperfield started the lawn mower and Milkshakes looked up. 

“What is that sound?” he thought.  “What is that glorious sound?”

He escaped past the children, past Mrs. Copperfield and ran out to the front yard, where Mr. Copperfield was pushing this machine around the yard.  Upon closer inspection, Milkshakes could see that it could very well propel him forward somewhere and with great planning, it could be a rocket-ship.

From that moment forward, Milkshakes planned how he would turn the lawnmower into a spaceship.  He knew how, after all he had seen all of the tricks that NASA engineers had done.  He could duplicate them… at least he could try to with his paws without thumbs.

Children, this is the part I have been told not to elaborate on.  To tell you the truth, I don’t really know myself how Milkshakes got that lawnmower off the ground.  What I do know is that several police departments and the CIA responded to emergency reports made by folk on Killiniq Island, that the sky was being mowed by a cat. 

Milkshakes was successful in orbiting his neighborhood!  He was elated that night as he went to bed; HE HAD DONE IT!!  He parked the lawnmower back into the garage as if nothing had ever happened. 

The following day, Milkshakes named his doomed spacecraft Artemis.  He fashioned himself a space suit made of flame retardant tent material he found in the garden shed.  He pretended to be excited about being a guest at a doll’s tea party that afternoon, but inside, Milkshakes was getting ready to fly!

That night, children, Milkshakes was seen opening the garage, starting the lawnmower and flying out into space in the direction of the Draco constellation (you know it, the one that looks like a dragon, off of the eastern coast of the island?)   He was seen there, with a tail of orange fire following him.

Unfortunately, the one who reported seeing Milkshakes flying away in a lawnmower spaceship, was Barney Geerigaard, the neighbor of the Copperfield's who used to belong to the circus.  He had quite a reputation for drinking too much lighter fluid in his vodka, so no one really believed him.

What I do know children, is this:  the next day the Copperfields found their garage door open, their lawn mower gone and Milkshakes nowhere to be found. 

Some people say that the Artemis could never have survived reentry, and I suppose I agree.  What I do know, children, is that Milkshakes had a dream, and we all know the saying: BEWARE THE CAT WITH A DREAM.

ice cream

There are three rules in our family that can never be broken:

            1.  No screaming unless you are on fire or are being kidnapped;

            2.  Always think of the family before you make plans;

            3.  When Mommy is hungry, feed  her.  If she is really grumpy, give her ice cream.

Mommy is the kind of Mom that does everything.  She fixes cars, plants gardens, sings and plays the harp.  She makes all of our lunches (mine, Holly’s and Bristol’s), by giving us sprouted bread with organic cheese and veggies that she puts in Tupperware and kisses.  She says our lunches will fill our bodies with love, instead of chemicals, which the pre-packaged stuff will fill us up with.

When Mommy wakes up in the morning, Daddy has just gone to sleep.  He is online with China all night, solving their problems and they expect him to keep their schedule.  Mommy puts on the ambient noise machines so that our Great Danes, Venus and Mars don’t wake him up with their complete madness. 

After she gets us in the car, she drives us to school and sometimes helps us in class.  When she picks us up, she drives us to gymnastics and talks with the other Moms while we tumble and twirl.

Then, Mommy gets us all together after she chases Bristol around when she doesn’t want to get in the car.  On the drive home, sometimes Mommy tells us things like “Money doesn’t grow on trees,” or “You should listen,” or “I work very hard, you know.”

Since these are all things we know, I  assume that Mommy is saying them because she is tired and hungry.

I have learned how to send Daddy a text that says “Mommy is hungry,” or “SOS” when she can see that I am not listening to her. 

Hopefully Daddy can see his phone and will have dinner ready by the time we get home.  He usually drops what he’s doing and goes to make spaghetti or beans and rice before we can get home.  That way, when Mommy walks in the door, he can say “Welcome home, Honey!  Sit down, dinner is ready!”

Mommy is always pleased and surprised.  Daddy winks at me, or else he gives me a high-five, and we know our secret communication has been successful.

Sometimes, the dinner plan is not enough.

Mommy will come home and trip over our shoes that are near the cubbies instead of inside of them and then yell at us that we must keep the area clear.  Before Daddy has a chance to tell her that dinner is ready, she will ask him why he is the kitchen or she might even say “How is China today?”

It’s bad when Mommy asks Daddy how China is.

In these cases, Daddy has a secret weapon.  He will reach into the freezer and pull out a frosted glass bowl he has hidden behind all of the frozen breads.  He will take it out of its ziplock bag and reveal a beautiful vanilla heaven: three scoops of organic ice cream just for Mommy that she doesn’t have to share.  He’ll sit her down and place the bowl in front of her and put a spoon in her hand.  He tells her to start eating and he will feed the girls. 

She will not eat right away, in fact many times Mommy will ask Daddy where he bought the Ice Cream (she will not eat fake cream).  Mommy will eventually eat the frozen love offering, starting slowly and lifting the spoon to her mouth in slow movements.  Then, she’ll get a look on her face that is both silly and sleepy at the same time.

 

As soon as we are all settled at the table and Mommy is eating the creamy vanilla scoops, Daddy will sometimes bring her other things like fresh pineapple slices or butterscotch topping. 

By the time the girls are finishing our dinner, Mommy is making romantic looks at Daddy and feeling a lot better. 

“I do believe that this is my favorite way to end the day,” Mommy says dreamily. 

I love our family. 

I know we have rules for a reason and I am willing to live by those rules. 

I know that Daddy and Mommy try their best and they make mistakes.  I even know there are times when Mommy tries her best not to yell or say bad words.  But when she gets close to those times, I’m all for feeding her ice cream. 

After all, if Mommy ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

five

Friendships are like wildflowers, which I much prefer to the hothouse floral arrangements you can get from any store.  Obliging fields surrender the most sincere offerings, complete with flaws and unique in beauty.

This last month I have asked friends to give me 5 words.  Any 5 words to challenge my imagination and discipline me to write in the time that beta readers are reviewing my book.  I have a writing schedule, and I write at least three hours a day.  With this challenge, the writing became public - in my blog.  

I loved this challenge!  Not only did it let me create and play with words, it reminded me what incredible and unique friends I have.

As you can tell, if you’ve read any stories, the friend who has given me the words is a huge part of the influence.  My friends are beautiful, deep, have weathered many storms and are (for the most part) happy… despite the trials that life gives them.

If you’ve missed any of the stories, I have linked them here to the friend who gave me the 5 words for inspiration.  My next seven blogs are from my grandchildren (including my unborn granddaughter) and my daughter-in-law. 

After those, I pack up for South Africa to cheer Hennie Keyter on in Johannesburg as he launches his memoir “His Call, MyAll” (I helped him compile this and I am excited to be part of the launch) on the 23^rd of February at Cornerstone Church. 

Thank you to all of my beautiful friends who are named here.  Please shout if I have missed you and I’ll get your story done before I wave goodbye mid-February.

·     Elmay Oberholzer, a beautiful friend from Johannesburg  was the first.  She is a girl who has a spirit that desires to see the whole world – and she is lovely!  Her words:  "...as I stepped onboard I..." inspired “ghosts” – a story of a girl who is haunted by loss and abandonment. 

·     Frank Stephens is a super-literate friend of mine who is politically astute and a world-class apologist.  I look up to him spiritually.  His amusing words: “bald, glasses, turbulent, muffins, dog” inspired the work “turbulent” – a story of a man who has a fear of flying.

·     Michael Roome, a boy I once knew is now a man who will one day be a United Nations delegate.  He is sharp and wonderfully humble….  His words: “She glanced in horror as...” inspired “horror” – a tale of two vegan individualists having a fight about a conventional sweater that makes its way into their world.  

·     Kelly Simon Cooper  is a new friend from Sacramento.  A fellow writer and teacher, she is nearly finished with a masters program (yea!) and still finds time to read my stories!!  “Verdant, Astronomy, gargling, wicked, infrastructure, and her super-challenge “ cornobbled” inspired “fisherman” – a tale of a learned man who takes a job on an ocean trawler to prove he can be a man among men. 

·     Lisa Haynes, a beautiful mother of two, is a South African rose transplanted into the harsh wildlands of Redding, California.  Her words:  "this time, it was different" inspired “topoisomerase” – a story of a young couple whose lives change once they discover their daughter has autism.

·     Marc Peffer is one of our longest-heart-held friendships.  His brotherhood has been a gift from God and we are joined closely with his family forever.  His words were “ By grace we are healed” and inspired “unjani” – a story set in a South African township.  A man, who loses his eight year old son, struggles with his faith and marriage in the aftermath.

·     Sue Conner, a fellow teacher who worked alongside of me in the Christian school I once worked, gave me the words “She dared to open the ....”  which inspired “letter” – a tale of how the seed of gossip is sown in a small town, only to destroy the peace of a family unnecessarily. 

·     Connie Eaton Rogers, a spiritual mentor of mine, lives in Tempe Arizona now.  She is a delight to me and loves justice!  She gave me “ fractured, sanctified, Valedictorian, frenetic, sovereign” which inspired a story so complicated that I could not dilute its title down to one word: “Jin Campaigns Against the SongDynasty” – a teenage girl’s account of the ongoing war between her parents and the way it’s affected her life.

·     Vince Rodriguez, my beloved son, gave me the words “Vikings, samurai, space travel, bacon”  I cried while writing this story: “vikings” – a mother’s perspective on her adult son and how he has become a man every bit as wild as she saw him being as a boy. 

  

·     Debra Ann Young, a delightful friend and animal activist from New York City gave me the words “children, restaurant, beach, love, bankrupt” and it fell on Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday!  Such perfect words to  punctuate “martin”, a tribute to this great man.

·     Susan Purdy, a beautiful friend who is also a new mother gave me “garden, community, secret, violence, healing” – perfect words for her, a true community activist who champions gardens that are shared in neighborhoods!  The story “garden” is one of hope: Vietnamese immigrants change a patch of derelict land into a true blessing for their community that brings the whole neighborhood together.

·     Ronel Geldenhuys, a humanitarian and spiritual sister in my life, is one of those people who is contagious with inspiration.  She adores Africa and is happily working into many areas (especially central Africa).  Her words: 'Faith kept Rafiki's hope alive' inspired the tale “Faith” – a story about a Kenyan girl who will leave home to attend a prestigious art school.  Her only worry is leaving her father....

·     Christine Crom McGuire, one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen up-close, gave me the words: “Blessing, love, extraordinary, grateful, heartbroken” and inspired the story “agnes” an historical account of a Catholic girl who lived her faith out loud. 

·     Lynette Devenish, one of my beautiful, faith-filled friends, gave me the words: “pumpkin, unchanging, waves, clouds, storms” to inspire the story “restoration” – a tale of an art restorer that needs restoration herself - from God!  The story meant a lot to me, as it came during a time we were in heavy prayer for Garth, Lynette’s husband, who has cancer.

·     Graeme John Forbes, my mischievous, pot-stirring friend loves to climb mountains and expects us all to keep up.  Just being around him makes me smile.  He actually had the audacity to give me 5 GERMAN WORDS!!  “ rindfleischetikettierungüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz (the longest German word – meaning rules that govern the packaging of meat), schwangerschaftsverhütungsmittle (birth control), speck (pork fat with very little meat), schadenfreude ( a terrible thing that happens to someone that makes you laugh), and Grundgesetz (German constitutional law).  It actually yielded a very mischievous story – “schadenfreude” about American tourists who make the mistake of being a little too clueless on a German train...

·     Debbie Woodhouse Van Graan, a beautiful business woman who can hold her own in any country, gave me the words: “Dreams, Disasters, Deadline, Deep, Disciplined” and asked  for a true story.  I actually thought the request came from her sister in law, Michelle, my friend I went to church planters with.  For her, I wrote an account of our leaving South Africa, a story I called “succulents”

·     Ang Keyter, a fellow writer and full-time Mama gave me: traffic, turquoise, twins, twilight, truth.  I loved these words, and they inspired “mythomania” – a story of two pre-teen girls sitting by the pool and hanging out.  Since no girl passed through these years unscathed, the feelings that accompanied this story were all-too real.  Very interesting...

·     Lulu van Aswegen, one of my besties from South Africa played the intimacy card and gave me 5 words that were inside jokes: “Salud, Nicomedes, Lekker, lekker and hondjie"  Instead of writing a story, I told you our inside jokes!!  A great post: salud

·     RobandBridget Forbes, a couple of immense value in our hearts gave me the words: “Cheese, vw beetle, favourite, wine, ger” to inspire heroes.  This story is a reflection of who the Forbes are to us – having lived in Mongolia for fifteen years – and also championing the beauty and wildness of the ger (the Mongoliam round house) and Genghis – a hero to all Mongolians.

·     Mike Rivera, a genius and brother in the faith, gave me “Searches, Finds, Loves, Loses, Reunited” the day that my beloved Uncle Walt died.  In his honor I wrote “Uncle Walt” and cried as I did.

·     Lara Ashley Fowler, a beautiful girl and former student gave me: “ Ballroom, pink, sock, princess, and SHANK!!”  Honestly, Lara!!  I wrote a story about the random pop-ups in family: wife.  This takes place at a funeral when the unwelcome wife of an estranged brother shows up.

·     Bridget Shank, another one of my mentors and a very special woman gave me: “Change, contemplation, choice, intimidating, spring” inspired “change” – a story of a young lady and her niece at the park who have a chance encounter with an old lady that influences their lives. 

·     Danny Lake, a former football coach and all-around man of God gave me the words: “Danny, manly, awesome,wonderful, available”  then quickly added hahaha.  I actually warned him: “Obviously, you have never read my short stories, Danny Lake! You may regret you gave me those 5 words. ...”  He didn’t.  It gave me “manly" a story of a rough and ready biker who meets a man who lives by his word, on generosity and for his family.

·     Francois Marais, our beloved personal trainer and incredible seeker of truth, gave me “Calamity, reprobate, Tukuman, Iscariot and schitzo” to inspire the frenetic “horror” – a story of schizophrenia from the perspective of a schizophrenic.  I found this to inspire a great deal of prayer for friends with this disease. 

·     Rick Martinez, our most beloved pastor and Spiritual leader also likes the way I write.  For this reason, I wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote “zeke” – the most popular story of this series (according to hits).  Rick’s words were: “ I don't believe in God anymore,” inspiring this story of a homeless skateboarder who has been let down by his family and the church.

·     Caroline Passier, a true friend who loves Israel and will take us all one day (!) gave me the words “love,  in love, and  romance” – inspiring the very Jewish “shiva” a story of the traditional grieving period after a loved one dies in the Jewish community.  I absolutely loved this story.  It told itself, unfolding with a story of a young couple whose happiness is cut short by an unexpected death.

·     Amanda Lai, a very cool girl who has become a woman right before my eyes, invited me to craft a story for her daughter, who LOVES princesses.  “Princess, Love, Beauty, Giving, and Heart” inspired “emeralds” – a tale of a magic kingdom of acceptance told for all ages.

·     Tim Silva, one of the very first boys I ever had a crush on, gave me “Excitement, Paranormal, Scary, Beautiful, and Spiritual” – for me to tell first person narrative “paraexistence” from the perspective of a young girl trapped in a small town with a ghost story.

·     Alicia Robynn Vosburg, my beloved beautiful daughter gave me the words: “Mother, daughter, flute, eggroll, fight” and I surrendered “tigerdragon” – a tale told from a mother’s perspective about her relationship with her adult daughter.  I wept as I wrote, and reminded myself it was all pretend.. all fiction.  How much she means to me!

·     Debbie Haines, a doctor who accompanied us on our trip to the Sudan, became one of my very best friends who understood the deep, deep parts of my heart.  Her words: “ father, necklace, solace, refugee, Narus (the town in Sudan)” inspired “protoplasm” – a story of the great dysentery plague during the Sudanese civil wars of the 1990’s.  The terrible nature of war gives the most hideous images, but also yields the most hope for survival and humanity. 

·     Jan Ahlfs is a friend I haven’t seen in awhile, but can connect with like no time has past when I do!  Her words: “Sky, tunnel, blue, grace, friend”  All wove a story of a friend’s desire for vengeance and the true power of redemptive "grace".

·     Callie Tayler, my dear Snow White friend, is one of the best people I have ever travelled with in my whole life.  Her testimony of God in her life is amazing (corner her and get it!) Her words: “On a dark, stormy night…” created a story within a story: absence.  When parents have adult children, you are not supposed to interfere with their lives, but you can’t help overprotecting them...even when you’re not invited!

·     Tiff Debrichy gave me a very pensive “love and intimacy” to inspire the story “shopping” – a complicated story of prejudice, racism, ageism and the changing landscape of culture.  Like Tiff, it is a story with many nooks and crannies... not easily told. 

I have a friend name Judith Stone Moos, a wild-card that gave me these words: “floral, wave, create, imagination, play” – which helped me compile this blog – five. 

Give me five words and I will be so so so so happy to weave it into a story – inspired by you!  Please stay tuned for my family stories.  They will be consecutive for the next week. 

Janet 

shopping

It was Analee Greyson’s custom to shop on the first day of spring and fall – it had been for the past sixty years.  Nothing, in her mind, could ever be worse than a woman letting her wardrobe go.  She found it necessary to acquire the latest fashion to make herself look as modern as possible, and she did it here, at JC Penney’s.  A woman with classic taste should be able to acquire two outfits per year on budget, the seventy-year-old matriarch thought.   Mrs. Greyson made appointments every fall and spring with the personal shopper that worked in the women’s department of the store, and for the last few years, the personal shoppers left much to be desired.

The manager of downtown’s JC Penney was a boy named Jerry, a boy who had worked there since he was twenty six, fresh out of college and returning to his hometown.  Analee found comfort and one might even say love in his greeting and readiness to understand her needs.  She was to buy  three complete outfits on the day she came in,  and Jerry always made sure that he told her how much he appreciated her patronage. 

The JC Penney was in the center of town, a brick building that used to look like a school until they painted it white.  After the white, it had been painted tan, and then two years ago it was covered in mirrored tiles.  Analee, a woman who knew the value of a penny, thought that the modernization was a waste of money, with one exception: when they replaced the wooden staircase with an escalator. 

She loved the escalator.

“Mrs.  Greyson, I’m so glad to see you,” Jerry greeted Analee as she entered the store.  He knew she would be there at 9:30 a.m. sharp and he was waiting for her at the entrance. 

“Hello,” Analee smiled,  removing her leather gloves one finger at a time.  “What is this I hear?  Are you really closing?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jerry smiled. “This building will still be owned by JC Penney, but it will be a corporate office, no longer a store.”

“So you’ll get to stay on?”

“Mrs. Greyson, it’s time for me to retire.”

“Surely, you’re joking.  You can’t be more that forty.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Greyson.  I’m sixty-five.”

 “Sixty-five and you’ll retire?” She put her gloves into her Dooney & Bourke bag and straightened her hound’s-tooth jacket. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, smiling.  He joined his hands in front of himself, almost like a schoolboy. 

 “My husband worked all the way into his eighties…”

“He was a good man,” the manager said, respectfully.

“…and he bounded out of bed each morning like he was born to do it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And he was, you know!” She looked at the light cardboard signs, suspended from the ceiling with fishing wire.  Markings of discounts were everywhere in bright colors, as if the sale were happy news, rather than the sign of a store failing to meet its profit margins. 

“Mrs. Greyson,” the manager motioned to the right with an outstretched arm.  “May I escort you to women’s wear?  I’ll introduce you to who will be helping you today.”

Analee followed him through the junior section into the women’s where they found two women behind the counter speaking quietly to one another.  As soon as they saw the manager and the old woman they straightened and nodded.

“Monique,” Jerry now spoke in a stern voice.  “This is Mrs. Greyson, who I told you about.”

“Hi,” A blonde, thin girl looked wide-eyed at Analee, not knowing what to say. 

“You’ll be assisting her with spring shopping today.  If you’ll come with me,” he said, firmly. 

Monique came from around the stone-look counter and stood next to them.  Analee sized her up as new and sighed.  These new girls that the manager hired didn’t stay long and seldom greeted her properly, she thought. 

“Unless you would like Consuela to help you,” the manager offered.  Consuela smiled shyly behind the counter, standing up straight. 

“Have you ever assisted before?” Analee asked Monique, a girl who was pale and thin but still managed to show too much cleavage. 

“Yes,” Monique left off the ma’am and Analee sighed again. 

“She’ll do,” she said, looking back at the manager.  He smiled politely and extended his hand.  Analee shook it, and did not smile.  “I’m sorry about the store closing,” she said. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Greyson,” he said, nervously smiling again.  “I’ll leave you two to shop.”  With that, he walked away and Analee watched him. 

“How can I help you today?” Monique asked, breaking the strange silence.  Analee turned toward her and remembered it was a young thin girl helping.  Her shoulders dropped with disappointment. 

“Where is the spring line that has arrived?” she asked, quietly. 

“The what?” Monique’s face crinkled at the words as if she’d never heard them. 

“Please show Mrs. Greyson the new suits that came in last week,” Monique said from behind the counter. 

Analee recognized the short Mexican woman that Jerry called Consuela.  She had been there almost as long as Jerry, but Analee had never been helped by her.  She seemed to be a simple stocking clerk and not a personal shopper.

Monique walked slowly toward the window display.  For a moment Analee considered asking Consuela to change places with skinny Monique, but then remembered herself and followed the girl to the aisle of new arrivals. 

“These came in last week,” Monique said, lifting a sleeve of a spring jacket hanging from a chrome display rack. 

“So I heard,” Analee wasn’t impressed.  So far the girl was doing nothing, just like the girl that was supposed to help her last fall.  She lifted the jacket sleeve and examined the cuff stitching.  “Where is this made?” She asked, almost to herself.  As she checked the label, Analee heard Monique’s voice.

“I don’t know.”

Just as Analee expected she saw no union label.  This meant that the work was taken out of the States to another country where labor was cheap.  The stitching would be defective and the jacket could prove to be ill-fitting.

“Hmmm….” Analee considered the design.  The cut of the jacket was one that previously had looked timeless, but she was suspicious of its quality and the store mark-up. 

 “Can I show you this in your size?”

Analee looked up and answered, “I’m a ten.”

 “Are you sure?”  Monique lifted an eyebrow at Analee, the first real sign of attention she gave her.

“You know what, young lady, I’ve had enough of you.  Get me Consuela and I’ll wait here.”

Monique blinked like a doe in headlights, then walked slowly back to the counter.  Analee was fuming inside, insulted by a mere waif about half her body size.  The outfit she was wearing was purchased in this very store just six months ago and looked beautiful  in her reflection in the mirror.    Monique was just a buzzard of a girl who wanted to lose a sale. 

“Mrs. Greyson,” Consuela spoke softly and Analee turned to face her.  The Mexican woman stood facing her.  From the distance she stood, Analee could see that Consuela was about as old as Jerry was, perhaps even older.  She looked humble and ready to help.

“Where was this made?” Analee asked her. 

“I believe the Phillipines.”

“I only buy American made, you know.”

“Yes, we send American fabric to the Phillipines and it’s assembled there.”

“Is that the best we can do now?” Analee asked, disgusted.  “This country used to make everything for itself.”

“Yes, Ma’am, we did.”

“I guess I’ll take this one, but I won’t wear it with the same pride.”

“No, Ma’am.”

Consuela chose a size twelve from the rack and hung it in the nearest dressing room. 

“What are you doing?” Analee snapped.  “I’m a ten!”

“Last year you preferred the twelve, remember.  Last seasons were all twelves, too.  I believe it is the assembly being outsourced that makes it a tighter fit, Mrs. Greyson.”

“Oh, sure.  You’re not supposed to tell me that my middle is increasing in size, either, are you?”

Consuela laughed.  It startled Analee, but then she laughed, too.

“After all, I’m a paying customer,” the elder woman said, beginning to feel better about shopping.  

“Yes, Ma’am.”

They worked together well, and Consuela possessed the surreal intimacy needed to understand Analee’s taste and ever-changing body.  It occurred to Analee that Consuela had been the one who was there each time she came to the store.  Consuela was the one who had lined up the outfits that she would be seeing.  Analee realized that she should have asked for Consuela at first, rather than the slow waif with no manners.

At the end of an hour, Consuela was wrapping three spring outfits for Analee in a garment bag that she found in the back room.  Analee appreciated the extra attention to detail she had and as Jerry came around to see how things were going, she said so.

“Consuela has been very helpful,” Analee told him.

“Yes, she loves personal shopping,” Jerry beamed.  “I’m glad you finally decided to give her a try.”

“Yes.”  Mrs. Greyson answered. 

Although she normally paid her bill in the mail, but since the store was closing decided to pay by the ATM they had available at the counter.  As she did it, she thought of the changes in this store over the years.  It used to be a place for the middle class to shop.  The white middle class, that is.  As the nation changed, so did the store.  At first it was the customers that changed; then it was the employees.  Soon, even a position as intimate as personal shopper could be occupied by a person of color. 

Just like Consuela. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Greyson.  I love all of your choices, especially the powder blue one,” Consuela said, and Analee knew she meant it.  For some reason, the clerk had shown her more respect than most of the personal shoppers she had met here in a long time.

“Yes, that one is easy to love.”  Analee smiled.

The women looked at each other and knew it would be the last time that they would see one another.  After all, this store was closing. 

“How do I say thank you, Consuela?” 

“You said thank you to me by choosing me as your personal shopper.”  Consuela’s eyes were solid brown, like coffee, as Analee looked into them.   

It turned out to be a very good shopping day.