I don’t know why I even thought about this today, because I’m generally disposed to an independent nature combined with an attitude I developed at the ripe old age of 10, when I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror, admiring the orange shorts and matching polka-dot shirt I’d just gotten, and said - aloud, I think - “If somebody doesn’t like me, there’s something wrong with them.” To be so bold as to say that out loud (even if there was no one else in the room), was not the me I am now, although I still actually feel that way 63 years later.

Those of you who know me now may find it hard to believe that I was painfully shy as a kid. My friends were my siblings and the kids who lived behind us, across the street, or down the road. I would cross the street if I saw someone on the sidewalk coming towards me - even if I knew them, which I probably did in that tiny town. I’m not sure when or how, years later, I discovered that my childhood memories could be left behind, and there was no need to explain anything. I was a new person, still growing, still changing, and mostly still predictable. Life, eh?

This morning, I remembered something weird but delightful that happened in September. I was sitting with friends, two married couples, watching a cool local band performing onstage downtown outside at Carriage House Sundries. Both husbands, with their wives sitting right there, said to me - a couple minutes apart - “I love you, Lucy Doll.”

Whaaat…?

Having grown up starved for affection (figured that out years ago; I’m okay now), those were words I’ll never forget.

Whatever crossed their minds before they made those heart-warming statements I may never know, but it makes me very much aware that I could be a bit better at sharing my feelings with those about whom I care.

There are about 200 of you on this list, and if I haven’t seen or spoken with you recently, still you should know that if I didn’t care about you to some degree or another, I would have deleted your email address before now.

As Garrison Keillor (who was a hero of mine until Ronni told me what a jerk he was in person) used to say, “Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.” Or something like that…

xox

Lucy

PS. Not that I am holding a grudge (although I come by that honestly; my father was a champion grudge-holder) - one of my childhood traumas was that the three youngest girls - Betsy, me, and Katie - were often dressed in matching outfits of different colors. Betsy always got blue, being a blue-eyed blonde. Katie always got pink, being the youngest. I got whatever color was left, whether it was something Mom sewed, or found on the bargain rack - orange or purple. Today, I’d rather commit hari-kari than wear either of those colors.