A Conversation Starter

 

Here name is Michelle. 

Just like the Beatles song. A fun fact she pointed out during our conversation. 

I had been walking through the men’s department of a nearby store looking for items my son needed for an upcoming trip when she caught me off guard. 

“Have you been to Scotland?” she asked. 

I had to pause for a minute because I thought, “What a random question for two people who had never spoken before.” She was on the clock and had been busy tidying up clothes that were messily put back on a display table. I guess she looked up for a moment and that’s when she noticed my shirt which said - Scotland's for me.

This shirt is from an indie/rock band I listen to who are based in that area of the United Kingdom. I spent $50 on this shirt, a lot of money for a person who never buys clothes for herself.  Due to overseas shipping, the price was more than I would normally justify for a handful of cotton, with a cute rainbow and travel slogan, but I had wanted this shirt for years.

“No,” I said. “But I am planning on going someday.”

That’s when I noticed the twinkle in her eyes.

“I’ve been there,” she recalled with an excitement which managed to escape from her mask-covered face. 

I was in a hurry and still had a list worth of stuff to get but I couldn’t help but get caught up in Michelle’s magical mystery tour. As a reporter, I had lots of questions. When did you go? What did you see? Did you go to all the Beatles landmarks? I just started asking away. 

Her trip involved three of the UK countries - England, Scotland and Wales. If memory serves me correctly, her trip was back in the early 80s. Her mission: to buy as much vinyl as possible. I got excited thinking about the popular new wave music at that time and the treasure trove she probably collected while walking the streets of London. 

I tried to imagine a younger Michelle. I wondered what she wore and who she travelled with. Was she old enough to hit a pub? Did she catch anyone’s eye while checking out Buckingham Palace. Did she bring home a souvenir red phone booth?

The part of the story she remembers most vividly is when the airline lost her luggage on her way home. She retold the tale of calling her father from the airport to let him know. He anxiously asked her, “What about the records?”

“I had packed them in my carry-on,” she told me as a hidden smile crept across her face. Even back then, she wasn’t taking the chance her precious cargo would get lost. The satisfaction of knowing they were safe and sound filled me with happiness as well. The mission of her trip was accomplished.

Every time I wear my Scotland shirt now, I think of Michelle. I had noticed her in the store prior to our conversation and never would have thought she had such an interesting story to tell. I think that is the case for many people we come in contact with in our day-to-day activities. I fall into the trap of writing people off, judging a book by its cover. 

I have seen Michelle a few times since our meeting and I’m not really sure what to do. Part of me wants to find out if she has any more interesting stories to share. Part of me wonders if she remembers me and our conversation. Another part of me just wants to get my errands done and be on my way. 

The other day I was out at a restaurant having breakfast with my family. I noticed Michelle come in and get seated at a booth. I wanted to go over and say hello but I thought that might be awkward. 

“Hi there. Remember me? Miss Scotland?”

So instead, I excused myself from our table and secretly got her bill from the waitress. The least I could do was offer some subliminal hospitality from one anglophile to another. 

I am sure our paths will cross again, and hopefully when they do, I’ll be wearing my Scotland tee shirt to get the ball rolling. Who knows if either of us will go out of our way to jump start a conversation. That part of the story remains to be written. Will she tell me the same story again? Will she tell me about other interesting travels she has had? 

But one fact unites us in solidarity. 

Scotland is for us.

*My blog is featured in The Valley Mirror Newspaper each week in a column called On My Mind. The Valley Mirror serves the Woodland Hills and Steel Valley communities.

It's A Marshmallow World For Some

It's hard to be a type A personality in a holiday world. 

Type A’s like planning, perfection, and precision. These characteristics seem perfect for making a gingerbread house, right?

Well, not necessarily. 

My youngest and I had the opportunity to help represent our school and build a gingerbread house that is now on display at Kennywood. This is the first time my family has participated in an activity like this and now I know why. But we’ll get into that later. 

Over the years, we have marveled at the gingerbread houses on display at the PPG Wintergarden at Christmastime. It really is something to behold and now that we have made one of our own, I can truly appreciate the time and effort that goes into making these holiday specialties. I have seen some amazing houses with themes ranging from The Wizard of Oz to Harry Potter. You can let your imagination go wild with a gingerbread house if….you have the time, patience and proper supplies. 

As has been the case for the majority of my parental years, things tend to get done at the very last minute. But this method of operation is not something that is new to me. I remember doing an elementary school science fair project the day before it was due. I remember college papers that were printed minutes before a class. This has been my style and I’m pretty sure having kids made it worse. I work best under pressure.

When I was approached to make a gingerbread house, I responded positively and with enthusiasm. “Sure we can do that!” I actually was excited to participate in something we hadn’t tried before. I had so many ideas for a sweet little cottage for a young cookie couple. The ideas were grand yet our time was limited. I played out the building process in my mind. It was divine.

I had picked up a gingerbread kit a few days prior to construction so I felt kind of good that at least that aspect was secure. But having a kit does not ensure success. The day before my youngest and I got working on ours, a friend posted a photo of her house and a collapsed roof. I was disheartened. What did I get us into? Did I set us up for failure?

At 7 p.m., the night before the house was due to be turned in, it was go time. At this point in the workday, you can imagine I’m at the height of creativity and energy. I told my son we’ve got one hour to get this done. (I’m sure these were the same parameters Frank Lloyd Wright worked with.)

On our dining room table, filled with weeks' worth of junk mail and clutter, we prepared to build our house. We carefully took out all of the pieces of our kit and laid them out to inspect and ponder. The gingerbread kits don’t leave a lot to the imagination which actually worked very well for us. The other thing I bought to help us in our endeavor was another container of icing. In my brief online gingerbread house research, I noticed that was a common complaint of the kits - not enough icing. 

Little did I know, a hot glue gun is the most needed tool we would need. The icing that came with the kit didn’t seem very efficient in holding things together. The bling we tried to add on, you know sprinkles, gumdrops and candy corn, thinking it would stick to the white goo, had another agenda. 

As we took a pause to regroup, I had to put on some Christmas music, a thing I only do after Thanksgiving, because my husband decided to watch the movie Goodfellas during our arts and crafts period and I had to drown out the colorful dialogue.

Once the sounds of an Irish Christmas began pouring from my phone, our house began caving in on all sides, and I was ready to give up. This is when my son remembered the special roof holder that came with our kit. We employed it immediately as Ray Liotta emerged from the living room to lend a hand. 

With all hands-on deck, we were able to stabilize the house. The hot glue gun was ready and I was a gluing fool. My son worked on his adorable final addition of a Santa looking gingerbread man who was coming down the chimney. He dyed the icing red to make the Santa suit and we used a glob of icing as glue to permanently affix him to the house.

When it was all over it looked like Christmas threw up. There was icing everywhere. Sprinkles were everywhere but my marbles were lost. Our house looked well...ok. Just ok but good enough for a first try.

The next morning, when the icing was dry, our gingerbread house looked a lot better. Everything had set and it reminded me of our real house after a fresh snow and none of the powder had been touched yet. I asked my son if he had fun working on our project and he said, “Yes!” Then we loaded it up in the car and took it to the drop off location. Deadline met. Yes, this girl still got it.

*My blog is featured in The Valley Mirror Newspaper each week in a column called On My Mind. The Valley Mirror serves the Woodland Hills and Steel Valley communities.