This page is dedicated to my mom, Connie Zehring, aka Grandmama to the grands. She is the glue that holds our family together. She has always given all that she has to be a good mom and grandma. She taught me to "always do the most right thing," that "everyone wears an invisible sign that says 'make me feel good about myself,'" she showed me how to spend & save my money, and as a shrewd business-person has always warned me to NEVER put anything in writing!! She also is a great scholar and has been able to teach me a lot about Jesus and the Bible as we've grown into adulthood together. God gave me the mom I needed, and I'm blessed and grateful to have her.  I wouldn't be the person I am today without her.

The alarm clock rang in the bedroom, and the first light of the morning peeked through the cotton ruffled curtains that hung down still, unmoving. There wasn’t a breeze to blow the windows’ veils; instead, a heavy dampness found its way into the room. It was still too early for much commotion in the neighborhood, but a few car doors could be heard opening and closing, engines starting, and drivers heading off to their day of business and routine.  

    I was already awake and lying quietly, waiting for the signal that it was time to start my busy day. I was excited; I loved these days when I got to go into the office with my mom.  I sang “The Ugly Bug Ball” quietly to myself, and watched my mama get ready for the workday. We shared a room, and I could see everything, but it wasn’t my turn to get up yet, so I waited in anticipation for my mother’s invitation to begin the pomp and circumstance of getting ready for the day. 

 It wasn’t long before she came to my bed and sat at the edge, scooping me up for a long, morning hug. It was her ritual. She liked hugging me and seemed to do it whenever she got the chance. Sometimes she would squeeze me so hard I couldn’t breathe for a moment. As I inhaled, I could smell her; she smelled good, like hairspray and lotion with the faint smell of laundry detergent in her clothes. 

I grunted mildly, but to tell the truth, I kind of liked all the fuss and attention, so I lay there limply, allowing the affection. 

    “Time to wake up,” she whispered quietly at me as she held me just a moment longer and kissed my cheek.

 The time had come. I was proud that I had a part to play in our routine. I stepped out from my Winnie the Pooh, white ribbed, heavy-cotton bedspread and waited patiently for her to bring me my clothes. Today it was light-weight brown plaid pants with a yellow, polyester, baby-doll top. The billowy shirt was  made by  my  mom;  she   was  a     woman of many

talents. She had even sewn on some embroidered Raggedy Ann and Andy appliques to adorn the collar of my blouse. 

     I lazily leaned on the edge of my bed while my mom sat behind me and brushed my chestnut hair with the wetted brush and then parted it down the middle with the pointy tip of the plastic comb: I was to wear pigtails. Mama especially liked pigtails on me.

I waited patiently as she retrieved the yellow, chunky yarn ribbons, and tied them in my long, silky locks, and then she quietly put the hair tools away while I inquired about things of importance like, did fairies really live under the toadstools in the front yard? And I told her of my plans to catch some more frogs to carry in my bucket when I went out to play that afternoon.

Mama listened, smiling, and then beckoned me to the kitchen, flipping off the light to our room as I passed in front of her, skipping down the long hall of our mobile home, newly made piggies bouncing and swaying as I went.

In my opinion, the best room in our trailer was our kitchen, and I was ready for breakfast-time! I climbed into my wooden chair, noisily scooting it around as my mother retrieved the egg carton from the frig.

“I want a dip-it egg today,” I pointed out. 

I didn’t feel like french toast this time.  She  moved quickly in  her

routine to fix my always- healthy breakfast, and set the glass of milk before me; I took a hearty gulp. The budget was carefully planned so I could have one egg every morning. Mama felt that was an important priority - that I get a hot breakfast each day. While I ate and chattered on, Mama packed my snacks and lunch for the day; she didn’t have breakfast which was a convenience that made taking care of me easier. 

The first puncture of the egg was the most exciting part. Taking the hardened edge of my triangle toast, I would poke the center of the white-covered yolk until the golden goodness poured over the top of the egg. I would sop it up with each delicious bite of my toast until there was none left, and then eat my remaining yolky whites. Fun and satisfying, it was a happy meal.

After eating, there was the brushing of teeth and the gathering of my things, two tasks I didn’t particularly like; I just wanted to be on my way, but they were important to Mama, so I complied. Finally, though, with my bag of duds and fresh breath, I headed toward the front of our home where Mama had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. At last, it was time for work!

We slipped on our shoes and headed to our driveway where our 1970 light blue Satellite Sebring awaited us.  We rolled our windows down for the fresh Florida air. It was warm even in the mornings.

Rarely was there ever a foggy morning in Florida, but on this particular morning we couldn’t see well. Of course, this wasn’t concerning to me, but my mom was not a confident driver. These types of driving scenarios didn’t make for fun car trips with Mama because she wasn’t paying attention to me. She focused intently on the road in front of her, and she gripped the wheel tightly. I, on the other hand, continued to sing along with the radio. The Platters were singing “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” and I bellowed loudly, knowing all of the words to their hit song. 

 Just as I was fully engaged in my solo, holding out a powerful stretch of lyrics, my mama slammed on her breaks, the tires screeching, and the car sliding to a dramatic stop. I flew from my seat to the floor under the dash, crumpled in a heap, now with lopsided pigtails. I scowled at my mother. 

“STOOOOOOOPPPPP!!!!” I hollered. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she see that I was in the middle of an important performance?

I sighed heavily as I scuttled back up into my seat. Mama didn’t say anything. We were ok. We didn’t hit anyone, and although she had large eyes and looked a little scared when it was all happening, somehow it seemed like she now found something funny about the whole mess. I didn’t find it funny at all. She needed to be more careful.

We parked in the lot and Mama straightened my pigtail and fixed my hair bows. As we entered our office, Mama turned on all the lights and got the coffee going, then she completed a variety of other boring chores while I set up my area and began my own day of important work. People trickled in and out, sometimes talking to me and sometimes talking only to my mom, but I didn’t care. I had my own world of business to carry out, and it didn’t take long for my mood to improve. 

There were phone calls to make on my phone with no cord, important papers to sign, contracts to color, and documents to staple. I even had to occasionally stamp notepads and cut paper. While Captain & Tennille serenaded us with “Love Will Keep Us Together” in the background, I feverishly completed my tasks, stopping occasionally to have my apple slices or crackers that had been carefully    prepared     by  

my mom and previously packed in my snack bag. I delivered envelopes filled with my written records to the men who worked in the back offices, or put them in the mail bin for my mama to deliver.

Sometimes I would feel the need to get out of the office for a little while and explore. On this particular day I decided a ride in the elevator was in order; aside from riding escalators it was probably my favorite thing to do. Of course, I had to ask permission, but Mama had just answered the phone, so I had to wait.

“American Fidelity Assurance. This is Connie speaking. How can I help you?” She jotted some notes on her scratch pad and looked through some files, ignoring my presence. 

“Mama,” I whispered. My hands held on to the edge of her desk, and I jumped around like a ballerina who practiced leaps while leaning into her barre as I waited for my mother’s response.

She continued her business, so I decided to walk in circles while I waited. Bored after about ten circles, spinning seemed the next logical activity, so I began to do that. My arms extended out on each side as I turned and turned, my pigtails mimicking my arms. When I stopped, the world began to spin. This made me smile. I did this a few more times but I never fell down, not even once! Finally Mama hung up from her call. She asked what I needed, so I excitedly relayed my request.

“I want to go ride the elevator. Can I?” Mama pondered this. I could tell she didn’t like the idea, so I decided to add, “Just for a minute.” I even threw in my sweetest smile for good measure. I thought maybe this would help to convince her.

Finally Mama said I could go “just a few minutes,” so I knew I could only ride up and down a couple times, but even a short ride was such a thrill. 

I pulled open the heavy door of the insurance office and walked out into the hallway to the elevator located just down the hall from our door. I pressed the lighted button outside the elevator and waited as it clanged and squeaked its way up to greet me. With an abrupt screech and a ding, the door opened; it was empty. Perfect. I liked it best this way. I stepped in and breathed in the new elevator smell, pushed a button, and was off. As the elevator wobbled into motion, I turned to the panels on my left. I could see myself well enough, and what better way to entertain oneself than to look in a mirror of sorts?

I sucked in my cheeks and pretended I was a fish. I giggled. Then, turning to the side, I showed my tummy. OUT! (I made myself look pregnant!) IN! (I sucked it in like a skeleton.) OUT… IN… OUT, IN, OUT-IN-OUT-IN-OUT-IN. “Ding!” The elevator bell rang. I quickly put my shirt down as the doors opened, and a man in a black business suit and briefcase stepped inside. His dark hair was parted to the side; he looked down and smiled at me without saying anything. My hands stayed straight down to my sides; my expression was emotionless, but I stared at him openly, unconcerned that he might notice my study of him.

When we reached his floor, he stepped out, and I peeked to make sure no one else was coming, but the man turned around to look at me one last time and gave me a wink. I popped my head back in quickly. I pressed the button to be on my journey again. This time I wanted to observe my pigtails. I noticed the ribbon was starting to move out of its position in the right pigtail again, but I didn’t care. I wondered how fast I could turn my head back and forth. A quick jolt to the right and my left pigtail slapped my right cheek; then to the left and my left cheek received its inaugural slap. Back and forth my head went - slap, slap, slap, slap went the pigtails.

Now let’s try getting the pigtails over the top of my head, I thought. I quickly leaned my body to the right with my right ear touching down to my right shoulder. Here came my left pigtail, over my head and slapping my right arm. Now the left side. Then the right… left… right, left, right, left..This was great fun! “Ding!” 

    Standing at attention as if nothing was happening, I watched as another businessman entered the elevator. I didn’t look at him long because I noticed I was on the floor to my mom’s office, and I was tired of playing in the elevator with all these people interrupting me. I bolted out with my flip flops slapping my heels as I ran, arms folded at my sides in running position, dimpled elbows tucked in at my waist. Back in the office, Mama was on the phone again, and Helen Reddy’s “You and Me Against the World” played on her radio. 

I wasn’t out of breath; the jaunt from the elevator wasn’t far, so I skipped back over to my table. I didn’t want to disturb Mama; she was busy, and I had more papers to staple anyway. Before I was able to get too far in my new assignment, Mama hung up the phone and asked me if I was ready for lunch. 

“Mama, can I have a picnic today?” I asked.

“A picnic?”

“Yes. I brought my blanket.” I showed her the blanket I had tucked in my bag.

“If that’s what you want to do.” I nodded my head dramatically to make sure she knew it WAS what I wanted. So I spread out the blanket my great grandma crocheted for me very carefully while Mama went to retrieve my food. I had Mrs. Beasley and Raggedy Ann with me today, so they could picnic with me too. This would be lots of fun.

It wasn’t long before Mama returned with my plate. Today I would have a bologna and cheese sandwich, peeled tangerine and sliced strawberries with a cup of Yabba-Dabba-Doo-Berry Kool Aid. I had picked that one at the grocery store because the package had Fred Flinstone on it. 

I served Mrs. Beasley and Raggedy Ann each a corner of my crust and one small slice of tangerine (which I later took back), and then told them about what we would be doing that afternoon together. 

“Mrs. Beasley, today I’m going to take you on the swing when we get home. That means Raggedy Ann will get to ride in my bicycle basket.” I thought it only fair to advise them now so they weren't upset.

Mrs. Beasley didn’t object. I suppose she realized that we have to take turns. Once I finished my food, I placed Mrs. Beasley and Raggedy Ann in their chairs, threw my plate and cup away, and ran to the bathroom so Mama could brush my teeth. Then it was clean up time.