Life's gifts----a bonus

First, let me tell you something weird. My classmate Janis Puzuhanich's birthday is this Saturday, Jan. 21. My classmate Andrea Balch Boyle's birthday is Monday, Jan. 23. My longtime teaching friend, Joy O'Donnell's birthday was Jan. 23. She died the day after Christmas.

At Joy's funeral, Pastor David Olson began his homily by mentioning a piece of writing he was going to share with Frances Fredstrom at Christmas time. The instant he completed his sentence, my jaw dropped. I almost blurted out loud during the service, "You mean she's still alive!" I hadn't seen or heard of Frances Fredstrom, who was my sixth grade teacher, for years. I assumed she had died.

To my astonishment and good fortune, I learned she's alive, sharp, independent and looking forward to her 94th birthday, which happens to be Sunday, Jan. 22, the day before my friend Joy's birthday and my classmate Andrea's and the day after my classmate Janis' special day. So, what's the big deal?

The interesting twist to this story is that, upon discovering a few weeks ago that Frances Fredstrom was still alive and well, I wasted no time letting two people in my wide circle of friends know: Janis Puzuhanich and Andrea Balch. Both classmates were friends of Frances' daughter Karen who was tragically killed in a car accident after our sophomore year of high school. I knew both of my classmates would be as thrilled as I to know that Karen's mother was still doing just fine.

I don't know quite how to explain the coincidence that I would come across this information at my friend Joy's funeral and that this assortment of people would have birthdays so closely aligned, but I do find it a bit mystifying in a positive way.

I learned about Frances' upcoming birthday yesterday while talking to her on the phone for the first time in I-don't-know-when. At the other end was that same deep, soothing but strong voice. I remembered it so clearly from when she teamed up with Mr. Scheibe to teach us sixth graders, including her daughter Karen at Lincoln Elementary School. I began the conversation by anonymously asking "Mrs. Fredstrom" if I could please get up and sharpen my pencil.

After hearing who the goofball was at the other end, Frances quipped, "I don't have a pencil sharpener, sorry." Mrs. Fredstrom had always seemed like such a prim and proper lady to me during my grade school years. Prim and proper she still is, but the Frances that I talked to yesterday has a great appreciation for humor. When I told her I hadn't changed much---was still a bit impish---her comeback was "We all need to be impish."

In our telephone conversation, I embellished the truth a bit by telling Frances I'd lost track of her over the years, not wanting to admit that I thought she'd died long ago. Also, in our conversation, I learned she'd never read my books, one of which follows events she would definitely appreciate because of the Lincoln School stories. I told her I'd drop them by sometime, to which she generously responded, "Plan to come and stay the afternoon."

Later in the day, I couldn't stifle my curiosity to see Frances. So, I autographed a set of books and dropped by her home, where the only outside help she gets is someone who comes to vacuum. She does all the rest. She welcomed me at the door and appeared so genuinely delighted with this surprise visit that my own comfort zone immediately kicked in as we caught up on my family, our class reunion and highlights about Janis and Andrea.

And, during this visit, she even made me feel so comfortable that I finally confessed, "I thought you'd died." Frances laughed and said she supposed a lot of peope had thought she'd died because she didn't get out and about much anymore. I had a hard time tearing myself away from my spontaneous visit with this amazing woman who had "risen out of the ashes" in my mind. With promises for more drop-ins and dropping off more reading material she might enjoy, I said good bye.

As I drove home with a smile on my face, anxious to share this experience with Andrea and Janis, I thought about what a gift this revelation in Pastor Olson's homily at Joy's service has turned out to be. It's a added bonus, indeed, to know that I can share some extra time with a forgotten but wonderful lady and admired teacher who played a key role in molding me so long ago.

Maybe Joy sent me this precious gift.