Sandra

 

It was the beginning of the summer of 1960. Sandra, her parents, and I were on

our way to Oak Orchard for a couple weeks of fun to start school vacation. They had a

small home there which they used for getaways, and they were nice enough to take me

along.

Sandra became my best friend after Nancy and I drifted apart. Nancy had

discovered Tommy and love blossomed with little time left over for girlfriends. Sandra

was much smarter than me, always winning at Scrabble, but I never quit trying to do

better. She was an only child, and, unbelievably, our birthdays were on the same day,

both of us Scorpios.

Sandra was so smart she skipped the twelfth grade and went instead to the

University of Delaware for her senior year. I felt like a lost puppy without her, but, as

circumstances would have it, in my senior year, I was named valedictorian and received

several small scholarships to the same university, enough for my first year. I attributed

both those honors to Sandra, not only because she was gone, but because she was

one of the reasons I tried so hard. But Sandra had “grown up” during her year at college

without me and things never were the same after that. And then I met Jim and fell in

love, and we completely lost track of each other. After Jim and I married and had our

second baby, I received a “congrats” card from her. She had seen my mom in the S & H

Green Stamp Store and heard the news. I’ve kept the card all these years, moving it

from place to place as we moved. As you can see from the photos, the card has “been

through the mill.” But I could never part with it.

Sandra and I were Facebook friends for a while, but we never saw each other in

person again. She passed away on August 18, 2023. You can read one of her obits here.

Sandra

When we arrived at Oak Orchard on that summer day of 1960, all the trees were

in full leaf. We traveled a shady, dirt road to their small getaway trailer well-hidden in the

trees, keeping it cool and secluded.

Neighbors were close but not too close. The nearest neighbors had a pair of

cocker spaniels that loved to come over and play with us. Their names were Sandy and

Blacky for obvious reasons. We enjoyed playing with them as much as they did with us,

throwing sticks for them to retrieve and racing with them around the yard.

A tiny little post office sat on the main drag through town, and it was our job to

collect or post the mail. We walked along the dusty road with cattails growing in the

ditch along the edges. Dragonflies buzzed around as the sun beat down on us.

Opposite the post office on the water side was a restaurant/hangout for teens. Sandra

and I discovered it early on and went to the Saturday night dances, but our short stay

left little time to make friends.

Oak Orchard was situated on Indian River near the ocean where brackish water

made crabbing and clamming a popular pastime for us all. We would stand in

chest-high water with a floating bucket tied to our waists by a rope. We had to wear

sneakers into the water so the crabs didn’t bite our toes! We dragged our rakes along

the bottom bringing up at least one clam with every swipe. Sometimes we would use

our clam knives to pop open the clam right there and eat it with the slimy juice slithering

down our chins, smacking our lips and splashing water to wash our faces.

Other days Sandra’s dad would take us riding down the river in his motorboat

toward Indian River Inlet, the faster the better. We let the wind and the salty spray

plaster our hair flat and soak our faces. Sometimes we would pull up to a little island in

the middle of the river and have a picnic. Sandra and I would write dumb things in the

sand like “water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.”

When it was time to go back home for the day, we would help load the boat on

the trailer and later help wash it down for the next time. It was wooden and barnacles

grew on the bottom. You had to scrape them off by hand. By day’s end we would all be

dead tired; that’s what salty air does to you. Sandra’s mom wasn’t much of a water

person so she usually stayed at home and had something prepared for supper by the

time we pulled in and cleaned up the boat.

Later, in 1962, all of us would marvel at the destruction of the Great Nor’easter of

1962 which brought four feet of flood waters to the little community destroying property

but not our memories. The Oak Orchard getaway was a thing of the past that quickly.

I remember those times like it was yesterday.

Notebooks, Dead Frogs, Student Council Elections and so much more....

 

Every afternoon around 4 pm if I’m sitting at a particular spot in my home, I can see the middle school students from Fort Clarke walking home from a long day of learning. Most if not all, have backpacks jammed with every school book in their locker causing them to lean forward as though they are climbing a steep hill. They make me think back to my school days and how very different it was.

My book carrier in junior high and high school was a vinyl zippered three-ring notebook. With a pocket on the front inside for pencils, a sharpener, a change purse, etc., subject dividers separating the lined notebook paper, and room for a couple books, I had everything I needed for the day. Extra books lay across the top, and I carried them hugged to my chest, which discouraged running. I usually decorated the outside of the vinyl with flowers, hearts and dubious initials. In study hall, I tried to complete the homework assigned in the heaviest books to make my load a little lighter.

I always rode the school bus home happy to be the last one picked up in the morning and the first one dropped off in the afternoon. Seat friends were always older or younger since no one in my class rode my bus. I can remember watching for the yellow bus in the mornings, seeing the headlights coming through the fog sometimes and hurrying across the yard to be in my spot before the bus got there. I don’t think I could make it up that tall step today if my life depended on it!

I remember that vinyl tan notebook spread open on my desk in Biology, colored pencil in hand, ready to sketch out on notebook paper a frog that we were about to dissect. The room smelled of formaldehyde and the frog was not green as I had expected but a mottled beige color. I was happy to let my partner do the cutting up as I drew Mr. Frog and all its parts. Mr. Horst, our teacher who I seem to remember being there only one year, walked around the room eyeballing what everyone was doing. He discouraged shenanigans with a frown and a very serious demeanor, and it worked.

My Biology classroom was on the second floor in a corner room of the building with lots of windows for light, and it was always on my morning schedule. After, I remember going through the double doors and down the concrete steps to study hall in the library which was directly below. In my Freshman year (9th grade), my guidance counselor, Mr. Rutledge, talked me into running for Student Council treasurer, and it was during one of these study halls that I made my first political posters. One I remember in particular. It was an anagram of the word “treasurer”, T for trustworthy, R for reliable, E for earnest and so on. I won that election but my most vivid memory is how sad my opponent, Janie Phillips, looked when the results were announced. I don’t remember celebrating at all.

Across from the library was our big auditorium, and it was there that we held all our extracurricular activities, Friday night dances, plays, holiday celebrations, cheerleading practice and, of course, morning assemblies if something special was going on. We always sang the State song, Our Delaware, at the end and I can remember being proud to be a Delawarean, the very first State to ratify the Constitution of the United States of America, “Oh our Delaware, our beloved Delaware!”

In my mind’s eye I can see my best friend, Sandra, on stage in her role as Lady Macbeth saying “Out out damn spot!” I hear Dion singing Runaround Sue as I jitterbug with another friend, Nancy, and we laugh and surreptitiously search for our current crushes on the crowded dance floor. I see Mrs. Fry, our football cheerleading coach, frowning as our jumps are not high enough, big blue H’s on our sweater fronts.

Funny how a student coming home with a backpack can trigger so many childhood memories. That tan zippered notebook may be long gone, the frog drawing discarded years ago, and the vote-for-me poster forever lost, but the girl who loved drawing, learning and cared about people hopefully remains recognizable today.

I'm Just An Old Salty

 

Salty food is my downfall. I never saw a potato chip I didn't like, especially those big ones with the burnt edges. Utz, Ruffles, Lays, Wise, you name it, I would eat it no matter the brand. Don’t give me Pringles, though. No fakes for me. I want real chips! In my younger days (and probably now if I allowed myself) I could eat an entire huge bag of chips at one sitting. And it's mostly unconscious eating, one chip after another, while I'm doing something else, reading or watching a movie. I'm on autopilot with the old hand going into and out of the bag.

I thought I had died and gone to heaven when all those different flavored potato chips came out, sour cream, vinegar, pickle, barbecue, wow. I got so used to eating the vinegar chips that if I only had plain, I would douse them with apple cider vinegar from the bottle, shake them up a bit, and then drink the little bit of salty juice remaining in the bottom of the bag. I loved them so much. But I’m not that picky. Just show me the bag.

Once, a long time ago, I went on a potato chip diet, only allowing myself to eat chips, thinking that perhaps that would turn me against them, and I would never crave potato chips again. It didn't work. I ate chips for three days, and the next one still tasted as good as the first.

So the only way I found I could stop eating chips was not to buy them. I don't buy any kind of snacky salty food because they make me want chips even more. You wouldn’t think anyone could eat saltines or oyster crackers like they were chips, but you would be mistaken. If it’s salty and crunchy, I will snack on it. When I get to the point where I can't stand it, I buy the tiniest bag (1 serving of 150 calories) I can find. That’s always the one hanging just above the check-out line at the grocery store. I devour it immediately when I get home, and that will satisfy me for a month or so. I don't think I will ever lose my craving for potato chips. Although it sounds wacky, chips are my comfort food.

At my last check-up, I complained to my doctor about gaining some weight even though I hadn’t eaten my favorite food (chips) in months. I was surprised at her response, but my potato chip brain ate it up, so to speak. She said, “Don’t worry about a little extra weight at your age. It may come in handy during a health problem when you’re not able to eat very much. And life is to be enjoyed. Eat some chips.” Imagine that? Sounds a little like good cop, bad cop.

Aside from chips, my favorite ethnic food would be pad thai, my fav meal is eggplant parmesan, my fav beverage is coffee, and my fav fruit is a toss up between blueberries, strawberries, or mangos. My fav protein is cheese anything, especially macaroni and cheese like my mom made. And bread and butter pickles on white bread would be my most unique or weird food combination. I'm not sure if any of this story made anyone hungry, but I could really use some chips right now! But please please please, do not give me any!