MIDWEEK MUSINGS are of MEMORIES. My 8-year-old granddaughter has become infatuated with me sharing stories of my youth as part of her bedtime ritual before she reads to me from her latest book.
Tonight I shared how I met her Zayde, her Mom's Dad, the first week of college in 1972 when the U of Iowa's fraternities took turns coming to hang out in my dorm's lobby (BTW the largest women's dorm in the U.S.)
I remembered I was wearing paisley overalls. (She's inherited her 'own' sense of style honestly.)
Anyhoo, one of the other Jewish gals on my floor had come running down my end of the hallway yelling, Karen, AEPi ( the Jewish fraternity) is downstairs. We bounded down the 3 flights of stairs to go check them out. She was from a very little Iowa town and had met less Jewish guys than I.
Besides my apparel, these midwestern guys couldn't believe I was from Arkansas. And that's how it began, Rock Island met Little Rock...
My granddaughter told me she is looking forward to more stories tomorrow night...
Do pardon me if I have shared this story with you before. Memories at this age are clearer of past events, more than those of more recent ones.
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