Rambling Rose

Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was assistant to the administrator of a hospital in Southern California.  As such, I was in contact with all the employees, many of whom became friends.  One such worked in housekeeping.  Sydney was a large woman and, she would tell you, not particularly feminine, but she was up for just about anything.  I must have read an ad or something, but I asked Syd, "Hey, let's take these belly-dancing classes!"  "Okay."  And we did, acquiring zills (finger cymbals) and the floating, low-slung skirt costumes.  We were something!  Syd wasn't married.  My husband thought I'd gone bonkers.  It was fun.  On our day off, I'd call Syd.  Sometimes she couldn't come over because she was changing the tranny (transmission) on her van, but other times she would.  My boys loved Syd.  She always had time to arm wrestle with them, and usually she won.  My thoughts rambled to Sydney the other day when it was too hot to do much but think, and I remembered a beautiful amethyst ring she'd given me.  It was special to her because her mother had given it, inscribed to Sydney, on her graduation day.  It, and Syd's memory, are special to me.

Another perhaps unlikely friend was Don, the chief engineer of the hospital.  I had bought a motorcycle.  It wasn't a big bike, a 360 cc Honda, and when I bought it, I didn't know how to ride.  With intestinal fortitude (guts) and a lot of practice, I learned.  This was back in the early '70s and there weren't a lot of female bikers.  Eventually I would ride the bike to work, carrying my skirt and heels in a sack.  My boss, the administrator, and I had an agreement.  We would not speak until I'd gone into a closet, took off my helmet, changed from jeans and boots to 'lady clothes,' and came out to say good morning.  When Don found out I rode a motorcycle, he asked me to ride with him and his second-in-command.  These guys rode big-boy bikes, Harleys and 1,000 cc Gold Wings, but they put up with my putt-putt.  Riding a motorcycle was a freedom I'd never known, and I treasured my friendship with these men.  When I left that job, Don gave me a plain turquoise necklace he'd worn for years.  Another treasure in my memory bank.

Enough rambling.  It's actually cool this morning and I've got things to do and places to go.

Stay safe.  Be well.