Cheryl Marshall Remembered

I wrote the following Remembrance for Cheryl and read it at her 

Memorial Service on Saturday, September 13, 2014.

Cheryl Marshall was one of my dearest friends. We knew each other for twenty years, we enjoyed Crones together for probably fifteen of them, and we spent uncounted hours in Starbucks. Twice every school year from second grade to twelfth, Cheryl accompanied me to my younger daughter’s ARD meetings, even when they were in Waco! Every December, Cheryl, Dan, Michael, and I went out to dinner for our wedding anniversaries, which were a day apart. Cheryl and I made road trips together, one all the way to Bellingham, Washington to see Bertie Edwards, who many of you know, and one to Dallas to see Eddie Izzard perform.

I guess you could say I knew Cheryl pretty well. And I know that if Cheryl were here, she’d have you all laughing by now. She was seriously funny. She’d probably undertake a pun or two - tell us we’re getting morgue than we bargained for and that we have to do more to urn our keep. If you tried to tell her there was mortal life than puns, she’d just laugh. It was her joy to post a pun on her Facebook page every morning for a friend she especially wanted to cheer up.

And what friends she had. Cheryl was Houston Gran to a couple hundred people all over the globe, on every continent except Antarctica. When I say she was their Gran, it was not just a word. These people loved her, they poured out their hearts to her, they sent her letters and gifts, called her on the phone, came to Houston to have lunch with her. For her 80^th birthday, they sent testimonials about all that Houston Gran had done for their spirits and their hearts. Cheryl loved her Internet family deeply and truly.

Cheryl considered herself Eddie’s Gran, too. Besides the trip to Dallas, Cheryl made a trip to NYC to see him in a play. She owned every DVD of his ever made and then some, but let's not say bootleg. Cheryl and I had tickets to see Eddie on June 30, but she went to the hospital instead of the performance. She was heartbroken to miss him, she loved him so.

She loved children, too, devoted her life to them, as you’ve heard. Special education was not just her vocation, it was her calling. She continued standing up for children after her retirement, attending ARDs as a substitute parent for children in foster care. And there are more families here than just mine whose children Cheryl advocated for tirelessly, refusing to accept a penny for her skill and time.

Before Cheryl was Houston Gran, she was grandmother to the children of her friends and acquaintances, offering a comforting lap, a listening ear, a willingness to engage in childhood games and stories. And who could forget the bag of lollipops she carried? Cheryl never condescended to children and perhaps that is why they loved her so much. In local circles, she was mostly known as Lala, a name she cherished. There was a special place in her heart for her one and only Mazie.

Was Cheryl perfect? No. None of us is perfect. Cheryl was simply so full of love and laughter, compassion and comfort, wit and wisdom, that her imperfections didn’t amount to a hill of beans. I am proud to have been her friend, and I know you are, too.

Sportscar Heaven

The fellow at the car rental counter scammed me a little bit when I picked my car up on Sunday. He convinced me that my pre-selected Economy car would have trouble making it up the mountains on my trip to Pagosa Springs. It sounded reasonable, so I let him sign me up for a car with more "pull." When I walked to the parking spot, I found a cherry red Mustang. Whoa! That was more car than I expected and I almost walked back in and said no. Giving it back seemed like a lot of trouble, though, so I took the Mustang and drove off.

The steering on the Mustang was so sensitive that I had to be very careful not to oversteer it. Once past Santa Fe, the road narrowed down to two lanes with very few passing lanes. Sunday traffic was busy and I did not feel like the Mustang was really such a great sportscar. It did zoom up and down the hills with a lot of verve, but, in the long run, I thought the extra $40 I paid was wasted.

Driving back to Albuquerque this morning, I changed my mind about the car. More rested than I had been Sunday, relaxed and in good spirits from visiting June and Bob, I took the wheel and fairly flew down the road. And I wasn't speeding! There was no one else driving, the steering felt natural in my hands, and the lusciious countryside seemed designed just to make me happy. 

I drove along mountain meadows with sunflowers in roadside profusion, all facing the morning sun. I drove along rolling hills, covered with dark green forests of mostly pine trees. In the background, great, rocky, grey massifs loomed over the landscape. Slowing down for a twisty turn, I came upon a doe along the verge. She hardly gave me a glance and even didn't bother to run away. I guess she's seen more than her share of speeding cars and wasn't impressed with mine.

As I got into New Mexico, the terrain began to shift away from tree-covered hills and mountains and into sere bluffs in the vivid reds, yellows, and purples that Georgia O'Keefe painted. The roads began to congest and the lovely smoothness of zipping along a peaceful highway disappeared. But I didn't mind. My hour or so of sportscar heaven made the $40 worthwhile. And while I never need to drive a Mustang again, I'm glad I did it this once.

Blessings

My week at the AROHO Women Writers Retreat, held at Ghost Ranch, filled me with blessings of the cerebral-spiritual kind, with nourishment for my soul, my brain, and my heart. The AROHO women bestowed care on each other with a fierce generousity of spirit. We danced joyously, with unbridled physicality, after the closing ceremony. My final good-byes were quiet on Sunday. The experience had been so intense that it felt right to slip away without a lot of emotion. I will be processing the experience for weeks and likely months to come. It is clear to me that my writing will benefit from what I heard, saw, learned. I am truly blessed to be one of the hundred women who were able to attend this retreat.

The three days at June and Bob's home in Pagosa Springs filled me with blessings of the heart, with the joy of laughter, and with the inspiration of gorgeous art. June and Bob are warm, caring people who are the most gracious hosts. Their home is full of lovely things, selected with exquisite taste and displayed beautifully. Walking through the house is a feast for my eyes. June is a talented fine arts photographer and many of the treasures are her pictures. I hate to leave tomorrow and wish I had allowed more time with them.

By Wednesday evening, I will be at my mother's home. It is a blessing of a most particular kind to spend time with her. She will be 91 in a week. Fortunately, she is vital, engaged person who is living a full life on her own terms. Mother inspires me. Visiting her means visiting many other relatives who live nearby. A bunch of those relatives are small children, great-nieces and - nephews, and they bestow the blessings of innocence and wonder on me every time I interact with them. 

August has showered me with such blessings. Who could ask for more?

Ciao,

Lane