Unexpected gifts
just when we need them
A fire evacuation warning is equivalent to Mother Nature saying, “Take notice, figure out who and what is most important in your life!” And then she adds, “Don’t forget, who and what you have gathered together on your list are only on loan.”
It’s unnerving, to be sure. My shoulders told the story. I felt like I had been in a rear-end accident, or what I envision a whiplash might feel like. I’m sure it was because I was wearing my shoulders about two inches above my ears.
But like most mothers, even Mother Nature, amid her strictest lessons, leaves room for nurturing. On the day of our evacuation warning notice, I received something extraordinary in the mail.
I love dogwood trees for many reasons, especially since my dear friend Julie {who I write about often and dedicated my book Lessons of a Wayward Yogini to} loved dogwoods. Her house in Arkansas was surrounded by mature dogwood trees, and she would constantly tell me how much she loved those trees. I’d never lived among the dogwood trees. But if Julie loved them, then so did I. Rick and I, to date, have planted five dogwood trees on our property. I understand now why Julie loved these trees.
A few weeks before the Mosquito fire, I was on Instagram and noticed a beautiful watercolor of a pink dogwood flower. I had been following Bradandflowers on Instagram for years. But as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not a social media gal. I manage the best I can for business purposes, trying to promote my writing, and, before that, my landscaping business.
At this point, I don’t remember when or why I began following Bradandflowers. I didn’t follow many people when I joined Instagram, and in all these years, I have only added a handful more, 81 to date, but gaining ground in recent months.
Over the years of noticing the Bradandflowers posts, I developed an idea of who I thought this person was— a young woman who had just gotten married; Brad was her husband who brought her lots of flowers.
Oh my gosh, and I’m a writer? Yikes. That’s hilarious. But in my defense, like I said, I spent very little time perusing these posts.
A few weeks ago, after seeing the beautiful watercolor of a pink dogwood flower, I decided to “like” the post and comment on how lovely I thought the painting was.
I received a message quickly thanking me for my comments and offering to send me the painting. I’m like… “What? Bradandflowers wants to send me the painting?”
My next thought was, “Uh-oh, I must know this person, and I’m clueless.”
So, here’s my diversion on this post. I should just create a little icon that indicates diversion and insert it where I plan to venture off. And then an arrow when I’m heading back to the main story. I actually like this idea. What do you think of these? I think they might help me guide my readers as I time travel, one of my favorite things.
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Okay, let’s try it out.
↩️ My daughter Amy was a cheerleader in high school. She would come home after every practice or game talking to me about Jenna (no last name), who was a cheerleader in the grade behind Amy. Amy loved Jenna. Jenna made her laugh… hard. And if there’s anything my girl loves, it’s laughing. Amy enjoyed all of the girls, but recounting Jenna’s antics was a recurring theme in our household.
↩️↩️↩️ Let me go back another 30 years (one arrow for every decade) to my high school days. Stay with me on this, it’s a good story.
In high school, I had a classmate named Jeff Kollman, a very intelligent guy and one of the funniest people I’ve probably ever met. Jeff would get up to give a report in class, and the teacher didn’t have a chance. I don’t remember all that much about school, not like other people seem to recall, but I sure remember Jeff and how he made me laugh to the point of tears. Throughout the years, Jeff would never miss a chance to remind me that my birthday was on November 12th. I had no idea when his birthday was. I appreciated his friendship during those tumultuous high school years.
⬅️⬅️ Back to Amy— one day, I went to pick her up at Jenna-no-last-name’s house. I arrived and knocked on the front door. The door opened, not sure who opened it, and I saw a man sitting in a recliner across the room. We greeted each other, I told him I’d heard a lot about his daughter, and we exchanged pleasantries until Amy came to the door and we left.
A few months after this meeting, I attended a crab feed at the Lions Club in Daly City with my ex-husband Ron and a group of old friends. I was sitting next to Mike, my high school boyfriend (the funny-looking tall guy standing next to me in the recent prom pictures), who was still Jeff Kollman’s best friend these many years later.
We enjoyed a fantastic crab dinner, of course, laughing about this, that, and the other, and Mike happened to say something about Jeff’s daughter, Jenna, “who’s a cheerleader at Mills.”
“WHAT? Do you mean to tell me that Jenna-no-last-name is Jenna Kollman? And that guy I was talking to across the room in the recliner is my old buddy, Jeff?”
After we calmed down from laughing hysterically, Mike called Jeff on his cell phone, and we reconnected after many years. What a blessing. To think that our children had taken up where we left off still makes me cry. Of course, before we hung up, he recited the date of my birthday. That was Jeff.
Sadly, Jeff passed a few years back. I spoke at his funeral, a first for me. I was extremely nervous, but I felt a calling to thank and bid farewell to my old friend. Amy remains very close to Jenna.
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Realizing it’s not typical for a stranger to offer to send you their artwork, I ask myself, “Who the f— is Bradandflowers?” I pull up and study her site; I see her name is Barbara Magee Torres. It’s still not registering because I’m caught up on her last name, but I do remember a Barbara Magee from high school.
I make a beeline to our guest room closet, which houses all our high school yearbooks. And sure enough, there she is, Barbara Magee (minus the Torres) in my grade.
I scroll through her Instagram posts and take the time to study them. Brad is a dog, an adorable one at that. Flowers are something she loves and now paints. And I once again feel like I’m standing at Jeff’s front door greeting an old friend I should have recognized.
Long story short (well, not really), her painting arrived as we packed, the bright spot in the midst of a very stressful day. I marveled at its beauty and also Barbara’s generosity, and then packed it safely in my car amongst our “most important” possessions that would make their way with us, if need be.
Thank you, Barbara, for your kindness and also for giving me a reason to tell this story about Jeff and Jenna, and an opportunity to call Mike funny looking (he will love it as will Jeff in the heavens.)
Your painting will find a home on our walls as we thankfully unpack.
Here’s to old San Bruno friends and the kindness of others, which will again be the subject of my next post.
Check out Barbara’s work here.
It's a very small world.
What a great story and so well told! And dogwoods are the best! They’re our state tree and in fourth grade we all planted one. Mine and my sisters still live in my dad’s backyard and now my nieces is growing there as well.