| Happy Solstice |
June 20, 2017
Plattsmouth
is not quite
the
quintessential road trip
…but
Cheryll lives here.
Daily goals
report:
·
Weigh in – didn’t
·
Meditate – check
·
Walk – not too much, but rocked my PT exercises
for my knee at my PT appointment. Amy,
my PT, rocks. She says I can walk more
in a few weeks.
·
Eat – I’m visiting Cheryll. We’re so bad.
· Wished high school classmate, Doreen P., happy b-day on Facebook - that counts.
Other goals
report:
·
Sang most of the way to Plattsmouth
·
Showed Cheryll my art
·
Wrote the Haiku at the top of this page, right?
·
Writing this now
Cheryll is one
of those people that becomes your closest friend once you become friends with
her. She is not afraid to show you her
vulnerabilities, which match my own. One
of the things I love most about her is how she tells people the story of our
first meeting.
She had heard
of me in our professional circle. It annoyed
her when people would say, “you would just love Lori!” When we met in Nashville, Tennessee, at a
conference – she was unimpressed. I was
my usual bubbly and outgoing persona, too self-concerned with making a good
impression to notice the reactions and feelings of those around me. I took for granted that Cheryll appreciated
meeting me and that we’d be colleagues.
Here is the
part where she tells people that after meeting me, she could not stand me. I seemed self-important and superficial. Cheryll says she smiled politely and busied
herself with other people and things. I
didn’t notice, she says.
At the
conference, later that day, Cheryll was attending a workshop presented by a
musical duo called “Y’All.” They were telling their story of UU ministry and
mission as a gay country/blue grass songwriters and performers. I’m not sure why I chose that workshop, but I
did. The rooms was near packed with few
seats left. When I saw Cheryll, a
stately woman with signature spiked gray hair recognizable from the back, I
approached her row. There was an open
seat next to her.
What she says
about my approach varies from mine, but her version holds the truth. I got her attention and pointed at the empty
chair, then myself. “Oh brother, not
her,” she thought to herself. But since,
like me, she was a people pleaser, she put on a smile and nodded yes that the
chair was open. Her happy anticipation
at hearing “Y’All” so up close and personal changed to creating a plot to get
out of there as soon as she could.
With satchels
filled with books and brochures in tow, I scooched past seated people to my
center spot next to Cheryll. I gushed
over the great seats and what I’d heard about “Y’All.” I barely noticed her forced smile and few
words of agreement. I mean, who wouldn’t
want to be my friend?
Next she tells
that the presentation, or concert, started.
Those men were hysterical. Such
sad, but genuine stories that they’d turned into beautiful harmony and joy. Their songs made us laugh – perhaps more than
they should have. Both Cheryll and I
appreciate some great self-deprecating humor when we hear it because we are
authorities on self-deprecating humor.
As we laughed our generous bellies shook in unison. Soon, we were bobbing toward, then bouncing
off, each other. We could not contain
ourselves.
Cheryll tells
that during this laugh fest, she came to believe that I could not be a terrible
self-important person if I could laugh authentically at gay, self-deprecating
music and jokes. She decided maybe we
could be friends. That concert of the
now defunct “Y’All” led to years of road trips, sketchy experiences, gut
busting laughs, tears for shared hurts, and a love that will always be with us
across the miles.
Today is
Cheryll day. I love her. I love those who love her. Ditto her for me.
Footnote*
So, this group we saw, "Y'All" was comprised of James Dean Jay Byrd (L) and
Steven Cheslik-DeMeyer (R) - both pictures.
The talked of the difficulties of breaking into the big times as a gay duo out of Nashville. We heard, in 2002, that they'd quit doing music.
But now . . . . looks like Steven is doing well . . . .
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