Day 52 - Delores and Judy

image by adwriter, via Flickr

Two families in our neighborhood were related. Delores and Judy, the moms, were sisters. That meant their kids were cousins. And Delores and Judy went to the same school as my dad, so their family were neighbors of Dad's family when they were kids as well.

All the moms in the neighborhood were moms to all of us. But Judy and Delores were also like big sisters to all of us. Really fun older sisters. They told us stories about when they were kids that kept us in stitches. Of course, I can't remember any of them, but the memory of laughing with them is still with me.

I think one reason they were like big sisters is that they weren't afraid to let us know they weren't perfect. I remember watching Judy as she made Rice Krispies® Bars without the marshmallows. Or tried to make them. She melted the butter and then mixed the Rice Krispies® into the melted butter and then wondered why the Rice Krispies® didn't stick together. I knew she had skipped a step, but she was an adult and I didn't think I could tell her. When she figured out what she forgot to do, she laughed at herself, giving us kids permission to laugh with her.

I remember going with Delores to her church to roll up bandages for some missionary work. I didn't understand why rolled up pieces of white cloth would be needed anywhere in the world at that time because I thought of bandages as being needed only in wars. I didn't know of any wars going on at that time, but if the adults thought the bandages were necessary, I was happy to help, especially since I was sitting there with a lot of ladies, not sent off into a separate room to play with other kids. That's another reason that she seemed like a big sister.

Delores made up the games just for us. One day she told us she had special powers - I don't think any of us knew the term "ESP" at the time, but that's what she meant. She told us to go into a separate room and pick a number and she would tell us what that number was when we came back into the room. Of course, she didn't just tell us the number. There was a little mystery, a little drama involved. She would have her daughter Carolynn sit on a chair in the middle of the room and while they both closed their eyes, Delores put her hands on the side of Carolynn's face, and after a few dramatic moments, she would announce the number. And she would always be correct.

Delores didn't keep us in the dark. She told us her secret. But I'm not telling.