What part of school would I write about? Kindergarten, when I was five years old? Grammar school from grade 1 through grade 12? Or how about my four years of college for my Bachelor’s degree then two years at university for my Master’s?
So I will try to wheedle this down to one memory per school time period and hopefully it will give an overview of what I found memorable during my life as a student.
In kindergarten my mother forced my older sister Kathy to take me all the way to the door of the classroom and wait until I entered. Need I say how very much she hated doing that? I was such a mommy’s girl, I hated being away from my mother at all. I’d cry and cry and my sister said she was so humiliated she wanted to die. Thanks, Kathy, for doing that under duress!
Throughout my grammar school days I was absolutely and unequivocally intrigued with the nuns who taught me for twelve years. I recall we all wondered if they were “normal” people like the rest of us. Can you imagine? They were covered in layers upon layers of thick black fabric, along with the white (I think they call them) wimples that dug into their foreheads and the sides of their faces, keeping their hair hidden. But did they have hair, we wondered? Did they actually go #1 and #2 like the rest of us? And did they eat the same food as we did?
I kid you not, we saw them as direct messengers from God and we placed them so high on a pedestal, it’s no wonder they ultimately feel off somewhere during my high school days.
My junior year abroad at the University of Madrid was an indescribable experience for someone so young. I was in the Courses for Foreigners Program and there were people from
all over the world who attended these classes - the same classes that the Spanish students were in, taught by Spanish teachers who knew not a bit of English. It was total immersion. During that time I lived in the dorms and ate with the other Spanish students as well as those from different countries, and we only spoke Spanish, since that was the language that
tied us together. I made best friends with a Canadian girl whose parents came over at the end of the school year and took us in a car throughout Eastern Europe - something I would never have had the opportunity to experience if it weren’t for them. We went to Bulgaria, Romania, Yugoslavia, and Austria and saw so much of the countryside and churches and buildings and people. It was amazing.
I ended my school days at Oregon State University and hated the rain so much, I was horribly homesick for California. But I made a best friend from Southern California with whom I am still friends, and got my Master’s degree which opened quite a few doors for me in the working world afterward.
Did I have a favorite school experience? I’d have to say that traveling around Europe and learning about cultures made me more open-minded than I already was, having grown up in the San Francisco Bay Area. I learned that the United States isn’t “the world” and that most Americans are horribly ignorant of other cultures and religions. I’m so glad I had my eyes ripped open which made me more understanding of our world’s brothers and sisters.
by Patricia Yager Delagrange
Following the death of their baby during a difficult birth, Brandy and Weston Chambers are grief-stricken and withdraw from each other, both seeking solace outside of their marriage; however, they vow to work through their painful disloyalty. But when the man Brandy slept with moves back to their hometown, three lives are forever changed by his return..
“What are you doing? Where are you going? Please, let’s talk about this.”
“I work my ass off in New York while you’re at home screwing other dudes?”
I pulled the sheet around me, ran over and grabbed his arm. “I wasn’t screwing other dudes.” He ripped his arm out of my grasp. “I was the one who was all screwed up. Then you went to New York and all we ever did was argue on the phone. You don’t tell your secretary you’re married and she treats me like crap on the phone...”
By now, he was fully dressed, shoes and jacket on, wallet grabbed off the bureau. His hand hovered above the door knob. His face looked void of emotion, wiped clean of all expression. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled.
I sobbed, knowing I’d hurt him and betrayed his trust. I felt like a slut. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. But I love you.”
He stood near the door, shaking his head, tears dripping from his chin.
My legs shook. My stomach cramped. I had to make him understand. “I know I’ve hurt you and that wasn’t my intention, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ll regret it forever. You don’t deserve this but I’m asking you to forgive me.”
His eyes swam with tears and his chin quivered. His Adam’s apple twitched up and down as he swallowed. “I had sex with Carol Smith.”
I live with my husband and two teenage children in Alameda, across the bay from San Francisco, along with our two very large chocolate labs, Annabella and her son Jack.
My horse lives in the Oakland hills in a stall with a million
Don't forget that Patricia will award a $25 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour and to the host with the most comments. Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/04/virtual-book-tour-moon-over-alcatraz-by.html