February 2007                                                          The Megaphone                                                                 Page 3

Five People I Met On Earth

by Julie (Stout) Crim

There’s a popular book right now called The Five People You Meet In Heaven. I can not tell you a thing about those people. However, I want to tell you about five people I met right here on earth. They have nothing in common other than they all met or knew me for a little while. They were from different places, different times in my life and never knew each other. I like to think they all changed my life for the better and I’m an improved person for the encounters. One was from Elwood, two from right here in Yuma, one from Castro Valley, California, and one from Columbine, Colorado.

Sister Andrea

I saw in the on line Elwood Call Leader that Sister Andrea died. She was 102. Having always been a Protestant, I never knew many Catholic sisters. As a small child, I thought Catholic sisters dressed up in black were scary to look at. They always seemed so severe. When I started the DCE program in high school, I went to work at the hospital and Sister Andrea was my boss. She was all business and I was scared witless! After a few days on the job, I began to realize she was a person, real, just like any other woman -- well almost. She was an excellent teacher and her training served me well throughout my life.  

I worked as a nurse’s aide on the second floor at Mercy Hospital in the late '50s. My patients were post surgical and maternity. I was allowed to go anywhere I wanted on that floor except into the delivery room. She said I was too young and might be scared of what I saw there. Well, of course I was all the more curious but, there was no way I would go against her wishes. She was too intimidating. I tip-toed around her and did the very best job I could. I must have done all right because I always got an A on my report card. She always appeared to be all business. There was no fooling around or joking in her presence. Maybe the word I want is formal. She was formal in her actions.

On Sister Andrea's days off, things were a bit more relaxed around the hospital. One day I’ll never forget was in 1956 and a new male singer was taking the country by storm. Now, there happened to be a young sister at that time named Sister Damien that was a novice. She hadn't taken her final vows yet and she couldn’t have been much older than me. A patient had a radio on and Elvis was singing. Evidently Sister Damien had seen him on TV and was singing along with him and . . . oh boy, that wasn't all! She was imitating all his shakes and hip movements along with the song. You could hear the sound of that catholic habit snap in the wind as she moved. We all were standing around watching and laughing, the nurses, aides, maids and kitchen help. This girl, this young sister was really good. Well, wouldn't you know it . . . who should appear but the head boss herself, Sister Andrea. You’d have thought God himself had arrived from Heaven. In a split second, you could have heard a pin drop. We all froze. She took in the scene before her and calmly told all of us to get back to work and to Sister Daemon she said, "Now how does that dance go?" Well, Sister Damien’s heart was no longer in it. I don't know if she got into trouble but I suspect she did. I do know that several decades later she was still in Elwood at the same hospital. Maybe Karen remembers her and can give us an update. I just remember that she really did like Elvis. 

Time passed, I graduated, got married and eventually was back at Mercy Hospital to have my first baby. It was Palm Sunday and Sister Andrea was on duty. My doctor and I decided I would do this the natural way, no drugs. All went very well and at 2 p.m., 8 pounds of newborn baby boy said hello to the world. Sister Andrea was with me all the way. Shortly before I was to leave the delivery room she excused herself only to return minutes later with my robe, slippers, hairbrush and lipstick. She said there were several Sunday visitors (not mine but other patients) outside the door and I would want to be presentable. So I sat up on the side of the delivery table, unheard of in that time, and put on lipstick while she brushed my hair. I got up and walked back to my room with her beside me. I didn’t get into bed but into a soft chair. Sister Andrea was a thoroughly modern woman. She again left for about five minutes. This time she returned with a fried chicken dinner kept warm in the kitchen just for me. (No microwaves then.) 

 It took a while but I learned that she was about the best friend a girl could have, no matter what her religious belief. I expect she mentored many girls over the course of her long and interesting life and I look forward to meeting her once again. She was a very special gift to the Elwood community and I thank God Sister Andrea passed through my life.

He’s a Record Breaker

If you happened to be watching CNN a few weeks ago you may have heard a human interest story about a friend of mine by the name of Jay Stokes. If not, I urge you to put his name in your search window and read for yourself the almost inhuman success of his latest entry into the Guinness Book of Records.

You see, I first met Jay when I went to a little dirt and sand airport here in Yuma to learn more about freefall about 6 years ago. There's no one in all the world that is more or better qualified at that than Jay. He's done more skydiving than any other person living or dead in human history. However, at the time I didn’t know any of this. I only went to the airport to interview a different man featured in the Yuma Sun. As luck would have it, here he was in Yuma at the same time I was here, Jay Stokes. This is his home and he and his wife and children have been here for many years. 

Eventually I did several jumps from that airport including jumping with him.

Oh yes . . . and what did he do to get into the Guinness Book of Records? How does the number 634 hit you? In a well documented 24 hour period he jumped from and airplane into freefall, pulled the canopy, hit the ground on a run and did it over and over. In 24 hours he managed 634 jumps. His goal was 600 on his 50th birthday. Although he lives here in Yuma, AZ, he made these record breaking jumps in Indiana! 

I do realize this story may not encourage you to jump out of a perfectly good airplane but by golly it should encourage you to get started doing something you've been wanting to try and stick with until success looms ahead. I’ve got to tell you, he has me fired up to get on with what I must do to be healthy and then one day, join him; once again at thirteen thousand feet as together we tumble into space and know the thrill, peace and silence of free fall. Believe me, there's nothing like it in the entire world. My motto . . . Just Do It!

   My Cousin Karen

My cousin Karen, oh where do I begin? I don’t know much about her and her life but I’m so pleased she has the life she does and who knows . . . maybe, given the right set of circumstances I could have been much like her.

My father was born in Elwood and had six siblings. A younger brother was named Johnny . . . well, John, but was always called Johnny. Evidently Johnny had an adventuresome soul so as a young man made his way to the Northwest. He loved the rugged country of Washington and found work there and eventually joined the Navy. When his enlistment was over, he returned to Washington and married a girl from Canada. They settled in a tiny town and raised four children, my cousin Karen being the oldest. Throughout the years, he and my dad wrote to each other. Now I regret that I didn’t pay more attention to his life. 

Johnny took his family on camping trips before camping was a well known word. He exposed them to nature in a way very few of us see. He taught them the importance of eating right and exercise. While in his middle 70s he walked from San Francisco to New York City. He was with a group of seniors and it was well documented. 

But this story is about Karen. She’s 68 years old as I write this, January of 2007, and has never walked across our country. However, a few years ago when she was 60ish she did ride her bicycle across the same route her dad had taken, from sea to shinning sea. Awesome! 

Her dad believed in education. So Karen went to school for about eight years and spent her life’s work as a practicing psychiatrist. She married another doctor and had one son. Today he holds an M.D. and a PhD. Interestingly, her son’s name is Mark. My oldest son is also Mark. Her home is in northern California.

After her father died I lost track of her. I didn’t know her married name and she slipped from my mind for decades. One day I opened a letter from another cousin that said Karen had found her and was asking about the other cousins, one of which is me. I wrote to her and low and behold discovered that she was going to be in a neighboring town, Ashland, Oregon in a couple of months. It was an annual trip for her and her husband to the Shakespeare Festival. We met for the first time and talked for hours and hours. Her sister was with her and all I can say is that it was a significant time for all of us. Before meeting, I thought this woman and I would have little in common, her with her medical degrees (several) and me with my high school education. We were immediately comfortable with each other and old friends in no time. (probably part of her training)

The two sisters had thousands of questions about the Elwood family and I wanted to know about the Washington family. We promised to meet again the following year for another round of questions and answers but life throws unexpected challenges once in a while and I never saw her again. We promise to get together sometime and maybe we will. However, in the meantime there is e-mail and letters. I enjoy following her by letter right now and I doubt her life could be more different than mine, ever in retirement. 

I’d call her semi retired. For four months out of the year, for the past eleven years she’s worked at the community mental health system in Christchurch, New Zealand. It’s become a second home for her and her husband, a sort of retired research engineer. Together they are explorers and adventurers, traveling the world, playing and working. 

Looking at her Christmas letter I see they vacationed on the island of Fiji this past year and at Yasawa Island Resort. While in the states they do the usual things like visiting family and friends and planning their next trip. Hiking long distances take up a lot of time. Two weeks in Egypt in October with stops in London both to and from was fun. She tells me “a swaying camel ride under a full moon through start mountainous desert is surreal.” Scuba diving in the Red Sea this past year was a first for her. A few weeks ago she did the BridgeClimb to the top of the Sydney Harbor Bridge in Sydney, Australia. Another time they drove around Denmark visiting with her husband’s extended family. They returned home from that little visit on the Queen Mary 2. 

At the end of her letter she says not to expect them to get into rocking chairs on the front porch quite yet as they were off to Burma for 2+ weeks. Also this coming year is several weeks in Hawaii and later a trip to Tunisia and Libya with a stop in Milan. Next July and August will see them in the deep, deep Outback of Australia and an autumn trip to South Africa.

Whew! What a Gal!

A Really Big Trip

I’m at the YMCA three times a week in cardio rehab and met and talk with various people that are there for the same reason as me. While on the treadmill one day a lady much older than me began her walking exercise on the treadmill right next to me. We discussed the how are yous and the weather before moving on to better topics. Eventually she told me she and her husband were planning a really big trip this year. Of course I asked where they were traveling to. She continued that they had traveled throughout Europe and Asia several times. They had roamed through South America and the Pacific. 

Her husband had been very sick and they were both surprised that he was still among the living at age 89. However, health for the both of them had improved enough that this trip was a reality. So to my question, “Where are you going?” Her answer was, "We are going to travel around the sun." 

Attitude, wow! Now that’s a lesson!

There’s Nothing Else I Can Do

Beth Nimmo, mother of Rachel Scott, was coming to town to speak at a banquet. I didn’t want to go. I bought a ticket and later gave it away. A well meaning lady asked my husband one day if I were going and he told her I’d given my ticket away. Well meaning, she gave him another ticket for me and said she expected to see me there. I felt obligated to be there.

I didn’t need to hear a mother tell her story about her daughter being murdered. After suffering through the painful experience of losing a son, I didn’t want to relive those feelings once again. The pain is still there and always will be so why would I go looking for more of the same? 

It was a money raising event and I was walking around taking pictures. That was my job for the evening. There were lots of strangers and I was snapping pictures here and there. I stopped to say hello to a friend and noticed a lady sitting alone, very quiet. Well, you know me; I sat down and started talking to her, a stranger. She was a small woman about 50ish. I just happened to notice her name tag after a few moments and realized she was the speaker for the banquet. I don’t know why but found myself telling her to not to take it personally if she saw me get up and leave. I explained why. Of course she understood.

I sat at the end of a table so I could leave without disruption if I needed to. I was not happy about being there. Beth didn’t seem to have any speaking qualities whatsoever. A small woman, she simply stood on the stage and began to tell her story. I thought it was going to be a long evening. She didn’t sparkle or have any charisma that I could see. She simply told her story. But somewhere, somehow, I began to be drawn in to the life of her daughter. To say it was an astounding evening would still call it short. This young woman, Rachel, was older and wiser beyond her years. 

Rachel kept a diary. Everyday she wrote in that diary to God. Beth didn’t know her daughter kept a diary and didn’t find it until several months after she was murdered. The last entry, made on the evening before her life was to end, she wrote, among other things, “My work here is finished. I can do no more. I am tired.” 

Beth continued, “I lived with greatness and didn’t know it.” With help, Beth wrote a book, Rachel’s Tears. I recommend it.

Julie (Stout) Crim, '57
Yuma, AZ