Double wishes

Among my cherished possessions, which will never be cast aside until someone goes through the stuff after I die, are some pictures from my first birthday party and a postcard sent to me from Mark Twain's home in Hartford, Connecticut. I ran across the postcard just the other day. It was with my school mementos which always stayed in my desk, no matter how many times I moved to another classroom during my career.

The card came from one of the key women in my life. Her name was Pat Venishnick, and at the time, she and her husband Joe were traveling around the Eastern United States. She thought of me while visiting Twain's home so she sent off the card. Pat sent me notes many times in my life, especially when I was a teenager growing up in Sandpoint. I was amazed that someone I hardly knew cared that much about my achievements.

During my teaching career, I got to know Pat better. We talked education a lot because she cared so much about what was happening in the local schools. She devoted countless hours of her life as a volunteer, working with Sandpoint's young people as a music accompanist. She also served for several years as a respected member of the school board.

In that capacity, she visited my classroom one day. Her visit occurred immediately after I'd been teasing my students, saying they had to figure out the assignment for themselves. It was the day before Spring Vacation, so I jokingly told them I was gonna kick back and enjoy myself while they worked hard. The joke turned out to be on me.

About five minutes after my announcement, I looked up in time to see more than 30 paper airplanes flying straight toward me and my desk. About 10 seconds after they landed, Pat and the superintendent Bob Leonard walked through the door. I had a difficult time explaining the situation, and they had a delightful time watching me try to explain. The class loved it.

I had no problem later, however, speaking words of praise for Pat Venishnick when we dedicated the new SHS auditorium in her honor. Her family came to the ceremony, and it was then that her eldest daughter Andrea and I rekindled our friendship which had drifted during the decades since we'd graduated from Sandpoint High School together.

Pat Venishnick served as one of the truly great women in my life because she cared about me from afar and let me know through her thoughtful notes when she was proud of my achievements. We later turned that relationship into a good friendship. She affected scores of others exactly the same way. That was very apparent with the turnout at her funeral at the local Lutheran church.

Like Pat, Eleanor Delamarter is one of those special women we all admire along our life journeys. Eleanor, who lives in Oregon, earned sainthood nearly 50 years ago for all the hours she devoted to me as I sat at her sewing machine trying feebly to learn how to sew. If patience were compensated by the hour, Eleanor would be a multi-millionaire.

Not only did she employ heroic patience with my sewing debacles, but that trait in this wonderful woman had to be tested to its enth degree at the 4-H meeting one day when I ate 13 of her fresh-baked cinnamon rolls-----in one sitting. She simply smiled and offered me more. Never mind that a group of 4-H'ers who were shy about taking seconds sat and watched the now infamous spectacle.

Eleanor's cooking was legendary in the neighborhood---fresh-baked bread every day, toast so good the DeGroot kids from up the road came to the Delamarter house to clean up on the leftovers. Of course, I would be remiss not to mention the piles of delectable bread crusts I ate every day as Eleanor's daughter Laura and I sat together for lunch at Sandpoint Junior High. I'd clean up on my own sack lunch and then wait patiently while she'd take the heart out of her tunafish sandwich and give me the rest.

Laura Delamarter was Eleanor's older daughter. She, like Andrea, is my age. Laura appears in those photos of my first birthday party, which was celebrated in town at our house on Euclid. The Delamarters lived around the corner. In the photos, there are balloons and tiny girls in pretty dresses---even me. Both of our families eventually moved to the country and remained neighbors. I'd venture to say that we celebrated at a few more birthday parties together, but I doubt too many photos would show me in a dress.

I've known Laura for nearly all of my almost 59 years. She is 59 today, as is Andrea. With my uncanny memory for birth dates, especially those of folks from my early life, I never forget these two good friends on May 10. Both live in Oregon. Both are mothers of wonderful children. Both had mothers who were very special to me during my formative years. And, as friends, these classmates will always remain cherished, just like those birthday pictures and the postcard from Pat.

On this their very special day, I wish them the best, and I thank them both for a lifetime of special friendship. Happy birthday, Laura and Andrea.