Instincts

Today I am grateful for instincts. Last night, when I attended a small get-together to celebrate my retirement with some former co-workers, I wore the purple and aqua shawl/cape that belonged to an old friend, Sondra Sykes.  I had it cleaned many years ago and it hung in a closet. . .until now. 

She had worked as a teacher in elementary schools for her whole life, so it seemed natural to think of her as we discussed the important things. . . like why most men prefer elongated toilet seats (do the anatomical math); who doesn’t need to worry about elongated seats because they never had a set anyway; who is doing what to who; what juvenile illness is running rampant causing barfing and how kids zone in on the ten square inches of carpet when they barf; who is retiring and why; who has bought a new house, new furniture and is remodeling; who had babies; who has traded up in their relationship; and the never-exhaustible discussion on educational administration and “what were they thinking when. . .?”  It was a blast of quick-witted bouncing around between odd topics and just plain catching up.  Sony would love that. So do I.

I met Sondra (Sony) Sykes back in the day when I wandered into the North Penn Writer’s Group.  She was a complicated person who complicated my life. . .like family.  God bless her for it.  Sony was a teacher, a mentor, an amazing writer, a seasoned traveler and a friend.  She understood more about Greek Mythology than I could ever dream of digesting.  I’m sorry I never got to go to Greece with her.  She inspired a passion for poetry in sixth graders.  Is that even possible?  Yes!  Sony did it and her students loved her for it.  She saw the world through a wicked eye, with an often naive innocence.

When she could no longer live alone, her house and many of her things were sold to finance her move to the nursing home.  That’s how I came to cherish some of her treasures, including the cape.  Through the years it became increasingly difficult to witness her decline, but I visited her as often as possible, reading aloud to her from her original poetry, snippets from the gossip columns, or one of her favorites, “Spoon River Anthology.”  When she was having a particularly good day, I would drag her out to the movies.  She loved popcorn, too.  I vividly remember when she was becoming less verbal, how she laughed at the mess we had made in the theater.  “It looks like a crime scene,” she said, struggling for words that used to trip off her tongue with ease.  She was laughing and motioning to the chalk-like-popcorn-outline of two chubby women. 

Sony died nine years ago, on July 23rd, 2005, from Alzheimer’s.  I couldn’t remember the date, so I Googled her.  Nothing.  No record of her.  Not even when I searched for her obituary, which I had written.  How can an amazing person just vanish, especially with today’s technology?  Then I was inspired and typed in, Sondra C. Sykes, writer.  Bing!  There she was, listed on the Science Fiction Encyclopedia site because of her brilliant novel, “Red Genesis.”  She would LOVE that!  So do I.

I thought I wanted to wear Sony’s old cape because I needed moral support.  I thought I could use it as my security blanket as I foraged into the unfamiliar dynamic of “former co-worker”.  I even thought I grabbed it because it was convenient.   What a crock.  I wasn’t inspired to wear her cape for support, security or convenience.  I just wanted Sony with me.  She appreciated good conversation, with good friends and good food more than anyone I’ve ever met, besides me.

She had great story-telling instincts and reminded me often that I was a writer first and foremost. . .in my core.  Now that I’m retired there is more time and I can prove her right.  She would love that.  So do I.