Ten-Finger Exercises

the "sweetest little roses"

I'm not a very social person. Maybe 'sociable' is the word I'm hunting for. I spend a lot of time at work talking to people, but I don't hang out with a lot of people in my free time. I'm happy to go to the grocery, go home, make supper, do laundry, read a little, write a little, and love Bill.

However, I know I need more friends. I used to have friends when I worked at the hospital, but I don't have enough in common with them to still have much connection. I never was much of one to party with the girls, except when I was divorced. Anyway, a lady I like and admire asked me last year to join her sorority, and I agreed. I thought we'd be moving to Pendleton within a year or so anyway, so I'd try it out.

Flash: adult women's sororities are a lot like college sororities. I was in one then and didn't care too much about it either. I will say that the aims and the pledge, etc., mean a lot more to me now than they did then. There is a value in thinking of these ladies as sisters, having none of my own. They are mostly all at least ten years older than I am-- actually, I can think of only one exception-- and they needed "new blood." They need, as I will need someday, ladies who are still able and who will come visit, go out to lunch together, share their joys and sorrows.

Most of the year I've been unable to attend meetings for job related reasons. We'd have an in-service that day, or a funeral, or new admits who had to be seen quickly. Today, the first meeting since May, I made a special effort to get there.

It was at the house of a woman I didn't really know, and was I ever impressed. She is an artist, a painter, a weaver, a decorator, a clothes designer, a fantastic gardner. She put on a program about knitting with knitting machines, and I could hardly believe her beautiful clothes. They were St. John's patterns, using St. John's yarns, a 80-20 blend of wool and rayon. She used to live in California and she and a partner had their own business. She showed us a coat with the body made of someone's old mink and the sides, collar and sleeves knitted. She said Nieman's had sold then for $1700.

We went to lunch, about twelve of us. Two attractive women in their forties walked over to our table as we were eating, and one said, "Oh, aren't you all the sweetest little roses I have ever seen! A whole bouquet of you!" I couldn't believe it! The ladies at the end of the table were some of the oldest, but nobody deserves to be patronized like that. I don't know if they minded or not. The rest of us did though.