Memories: Ladies Edition

Tonight I started going through my box of memories. Here's my box (Rubbermaid container) full of other boxes and loose stuff:

I read all of my letters and cards from friends tonight.  Many tugged at my heart; these scraps of paper are such reminders of all the lovely people I have met throughout my life, and some I am fortunate to keep in touch with even today.

My mother and I have a very odd relationship.  I love her, she loves me, I suppose that's all we really need to have established.  The letters she has mailed to me over the years (sigh)... not even one of them is 100% pleasant.  Every single stinkin' one of them takes some sort of issue with me: my weight, my irresponsible nature, me not studying, the boys I dated, blah blah blah.  But anyway, here's a humorous one (click to make it bigger).  Yes, that says I shouldn't spend $5 rashly toward the bottom:

 

Here's one that tugs at my heart in a big way.  I met Dena when I interviewed to be on the city commission.  I ended up being on the commission for 3 years.  She was the staff support to the commission.  She was such a great lady.  She was so smart, kind, ethical, and I was privileged to have her as my confirmation sponsor when I was confirmed at St. Vincent's.  Confirmation sponsors wrote letters to the newly confirmed, and here is what she wrote me:

She met a wonderful man, and Dena married him while I was in college.  They had a son Luke.  When her son was 6 months old, she was diagnosed with cancer.  She lived to see him become 5 years old.  Then she was taken from those of us who witnessed her incredible nature.

The summer before I started college at Western, I worked full-time at a counseling agency.  I was working in the collections department (collecting money from mentally unstable people...beautiful!), and my other duty was to relieve the receptionist when she went to lunch.  One day this extremely crotchety older lady came in, and of course I got stuck with her when she checked in.  She was mad about one thing or another, and she was waving her cane around and swearing.  She had to fill out her paperwork despite insisting she didn't have to.  That day I sat with Dot, and I talked with her.  I filled out that pesky form for her by asking all of the questions in a conversational way.  Every time she came in after that, she'd make a point to say hello to me.  When I went off to Western, she and I became pen pals for a year.  Here is the beginning of one of her letters to me.  They weren't all that cohesive, but remember she had to be at least 80 years old and on a considerable amount of medication:

And I close with a picture of me. I look at that little girl now, and I see a little bit of Julia in her.  I see a girl who wanted to please everyone.  I see black pants, white socks, and brown shoes... and Santa was a freaking PIMP!  ;)