When I quit my job with Oxford Life Insurance in 2002, I did it at the drop of a hat. I'd never made a decision like that before.  I just grabbed my stuff, said very few good-byes and walked out. I know the story behind it, but it doesn't matter here, because the decision I made that day, gave me the opportunity to learn, grow, live through struggles and become a better me.

I was 38.  I decided to go back to school and get away from the glass ceiling I felt I had hit.

I was in my second marriage - and not happy about that either. I had to make some changes in my life. I had two girls at home. Roya was 18, Molly was 7. We had just taken an expensive, but oh so wonderful trip to England. Even Molly's dad went, too. I don't think we could have gotten away with just a trip for the girls even though my inheritance from mom paid for it. We were also buying an oh, so expensive house - way beyond our financial means. But I digress.

What was I going to do NOW? So off to college I went. Roya had just graduated from high school and was working at the local hospital as a CNA. She must have inspired ME to go into the medical field because I can't imagine, nor can I remember, how I got here. (She also worked at the hospice company I started my career at.)

Here's some history.

When I was a child, my mother was part of what we always referred to as "the English club". There were several women in this club, but not all were English. There was Kitty Drummond who was VERY Scottish, Nina Valero who was very Italian, Peggy, who didn't speak with an accent so I can't remember if she was English or Scottish, Corkie Cooper, who was American but I believe had an English husband, and Michelle Panknin, definitely a Brit. These were the ones I related to most. When My parents had parties, they were always there. I'll tell those stories later.

Every other Friday the club would get together for lunch at Furr's Cafeteria in Park Mall, (Tucson, AZ) where my mother and Peggy worked in the accounting department at Sears. They would eat, gossip and chat about their next project. Or their husbands.  Or whatever it was old ladies talked about.  My mother was a bit younger than I am now. 

During the summer, I would go, too. We'd carpool with my mom and a coworker (remember the AMC Pacer? The Ford Pinto wagon?), have lunch later in the day and then I'd hang out at the mall all day.  Can you even imagine that in 2021?? My poor mom. Love is what counts, right?

One of the two main projects they had was supporting various nursing homes in Tucson - mind you this was in the 70's, and nursing homes were not what we have in 2021. Nothing fancy, no nice pictures on walls, but drooling patients out in the open, with a smell that prevents me from ever buying Pine Sol. Ever.

Every other Sunday we would visit the nursing homes. These people had no one visit them. Yes, I'd go, and I think my dad would go as well. He liked the ladies. Hugs were a sure thing.

At Christmas time, the ladies would buy useful gifts: usually socks, shirts, toiletries, undershirts, slippers. We'd get them all wrapped, then Dad would dress as Santa Claus, the ladies would dress up, and I'd get to be Santa's helper, passing out the gifts. Poor sick, often senile people really get excited about these such gifts.

I distinctly remember The Marshall Home for Men (I just looked it up, it still exists today! And singing carols. And giving and getting hugs.

That is what love was. I think it was also the start of something wonderful.