Time Travel: IT DOESN'T HAPPEN OFTEN

Time Travel: IT DOESN'T HAPPEN OFTEN: It doesn’t happen often – But Sunday was the day.  NEVER TOO LATE TO LEARN  To see my squinty-eyed silly grinning face taking u...

IT DOESN'T HAPPEN OFTEN

It doesn’t happen often –

But Sunday was the day. 

NEVER TOO LATE TO LEARN

 To see my squinty-eyed silly grinning face taking up a third of the page on the Valley & State Arizona Republic section.  Then to just glom into the wonderful delicious article by Dianna M. Náñez.

.  This is one of the few times that I can’t find enough words to express the sky high feeling I get when I read and re-read the story she writes about my life.  Graduating at 88, maybe that’s a big deal, but that just fell into place as one of the things on my bucket list.  The chance to spout out about “Never too Late,” and “Don’t Give up Your Dream,” is a definite plus.

The ‘walking on air’ came about because Dianna painted such a hilarious picture of me.  I’m certainly not “toothpick thin” but I will allow her the literary license and love her for it.  But where my eyes couldn’t get enough, I kept going over the page to be sure it was printed correctly, her description of Evangeline and “The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary.”  

THE ALTERNATE SAFE WORLD OF SANCTUARY

Those are MY words.  To see them in such a prominent place in the gigantic newspaper of the sixth largest city in the United States, wow!, a gal can go through the roof and head for the moon.

There are only a few times that a person is allowed to have such a delirious feeling in their lifetime:

 When I first soloed a plane by myself and bounced that Cub six times before landing at Weir Cook Airport, I had to be tied to the ground. 

When I sold my first small magazine story, phone calls cost money, but I didn’t care, I had to tell everyone in faraway places about it.

At seventeen, our three day secret honeymoon in Chicago and for weeks I had a hard time keeping my mouth downturned not to give away such flying happiness.

The wonderful fuzzy-warm feeling that overtook me when my 5 pound 11 ounce skinny un-beautiful son was put in my arms.

Actually standing up on the ski-slope and skimming down the bunny hill.

When the first copy of “The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary” came in the mail and I danced around the room, the house, the block, couldn’t slow down.

When I walked into Ed’s arms at the age of 75 and knew that something so very special had happened that it stays part of me always.  

And now – THIS.   Good fortune, call it luck, call it Providence, call it my guardian angel watching over me, that a writer with the talent of Dianna Náñez  would take the hours of interviewing, I don’t know how long on writing, to turn out a story that sounds like best-seller fiction but it has my name, my actions, my book, as the subject, it is unbelievable.

At this age, one thinks, “O.K., I’m on top of my world now.  It would be a good time to go.”  After all, one likes to leave the party when one is having the most fun, before it winds down - - - I don’t expect it will get any better than this - - - but I think I will stick around a while longer to make sure I don’t miss anything. 

Thank You, God.

Time Travel: THE BUTTERFLY LANDING

Time Travel: THE BUTTERFLY LANDING:                              Those colorful butterflies of happiness flit around, fluttering up, drifting down, coming close, don’t l...

THE BUTTERFLY LANDING

  

                         

Those colorful butterflies of happiness flit around, fluttering up, drifting down, coming close, don’t look . . . or those wings of beauty will disappear.  Then – suddenly – from an unexpected direction, one comes and Ands landsupon my shoulder. 

Writing a book is fun,    selling it is work.  I have considered many ways of getting attention for Sanctuary: make a box sign and march down Central in my undies . . . but alas, my figure would not get the right kind of attention.  Or talk my Tia into helping . . . her figure would be great but she might not want a police record. 

Never did I consider the Phoenix New Times with its controversial approach.  I haven’t seen any UFOs and I am not in the public eye.  When I received an email from a New Times reporter I was very curious.  I don’t consider it a big deal to graduate at the age of 88.  I’m glad and proud and hope my action might show others that age or disability is not a barrier. 

Shanna Hogan is author of three best-selling true-crime books, has a bunch of awards and teaches writing at ASU.  After this discovery, I was even more curious.  What could she do with someone who is not spectacular and doesn’t have a problem?

After meeting Shanna, I forgot my dismay and we talked writing and formed a bond.  I suspect Shanna would instantly be a friend with any person on her radar but not many come into my radar to exchange autographed books.  That was pure pleasure!

Here is her story about Mariam Cheshire:

         

http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/news/88-year-old-phoenix-great-grandmother-graduates-from-college-8320943

          

88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates

Here is a link that will bring up the story for now.  I don't know how long it will last or when I can get the expertise people to help me save it.  Another blog is almost ready to go - The party is over!  It was fun, Mariam

Read more: http://www.cbs5az.com/story/31962916/88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates-from-phoenix-college#ixzz48nNgw9x2

88-year-old great-grandmother graduates from Phoenix College

Posted: May 12, 2016 5:44 PMUpdated: May 12, 2016 7:06 PM

By Jason Barry

CONNECT

 

(Source: KPHO/KTVK)

PHOENIX (KPHO/KTVK) -

You're never too old to follow your dreams.

That's the message from a Valley college student getting ready for graduation.

But Mariam Cheshire is not your average student.

The 88-year-old great-grandmother is about to become one of the oldest graduates in Phoenix College history.

"It really does feel wonderful," said Cheshire. "I accomplished something. I did it and it was not easy."

The retired travel agent said that she started taking college classes when she was 17, but family and work always got in the way of completing her degree.

Over the years, Cheshire watched her son, grandson, and three great-granddaughterss graduate from Phoenix College.

Now, it's her turn, and her family is not surprised.

"She's 88 years old," said great-granddaughter Tia Cheshire. "She works out at the YMCA, just got back from a cruise in Hawaii.  She has so much energy. She's living life."

Cheshire was the guest speaker Thursday at the Laura Danieli Senior Activity Center, where she hopes to inspire other seniors to follow their dreams, just like she did, taking one last class to get a college diploma.

"When people tell you not to believe in your dreams - that you can't make it - when they say why bother - then you can say why not," said Cheshire.

 One 74-year-old was inspired so much, she's already planning to go back to school.

 "I can do with my life what I enjoy, and what means something to me," said Cheshire.

The great-grandmother has already written one book called "The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary," and is hoping to write another.  www.taswos.com

Cheshire will attend Phoenix College's graduation ceremony on Friday evening.

Copyright 2016 KPHO (KPHO Broadcasting Corporation). All rights reserved.

Read more: http://www.cbs5az.com/story/31962916/88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates-from-phoenix-college#ixzz48nNgw9x2

Time Travel: A GRADUATION MEMORY

Time Travel: A GRADUATION MEMORY: Sometimes a never-forgotten scene is brought back by a snip of a song or an overheard conversation. For me a memory returned when I put o...

A GRADUATION MEMORY

Sometimes a never-forgotten scene is brought back by a snip of a song or an overheard conversation. For me a memory returned when I put on my blue graduation gown and cap.   

I looked in the mirror and the year shifted from 2016 to 1944, from Phoenix to Indianapolis.  

This week I will be on the way to graduate at Hoy Stadium, Phoenix College.   The scene in the mirror showed the auditorium at Shortridge High School.  The blue graduation cap was perked on a blonde 16 year old instead of the gray head of an 88 year old. 

Sixty-nine years had disappeared in a flicker of time.  Once again I floated two feet above the ground.  A sparkly engagement ring lit up my third finger, left hand.  It was huge.  When I flashed my hand around for the admirers, it could be seen across the room.  

Time kept flickering, jumping fifty years.  The rings would be handed to my grandson for his wife and the diamond had shrunk to a tiny size.   I could see only a tiny sparkle . . . and my sweetheart’s smile, his brown eyes dancing, when he asked me to wear it.

Back to the past once more.  The second World War had not yet come to its explosive ending.  Most soldiers still fought on the battlefields.  My hero arrived home early on a medical discharge and had already returned to a waiting job and pharmacy school.

At the graduation dance my handsome warrior stood out among the youngsters and the 4F’s not eligible for draft.  In this era of wartime, so many beautiful, talented young women were actively looking for boyfriends.  And yet this very eligible bachelor loved me.  He had proposed to a clumsy, gawky 16-year old who didn’t know how to cook or understand his profession or how to be a wife.  

Memories returned of walking on air, feet not touching the surface.  Does first love always give that feeling of being enclosed in a vapory cloud, nothing harmful could reach me? Or was it the wartime hysteria of living every moment today because there may not be a tomorrow?

That 1944 high school ceremony was a blur. After I was handed my certificate, I hurried to find my waiting fiancé (oh, how I loved that word). 

Duane removed my cap, giving me a kiss while doing so, and my heart could have burst.  I could still feel his hands on my shoulders as I took off my 2016 gown, his love remained strong through the years.   

 At that time I wore a white, button down the front, rayon dress.  Mom and I had searched all the stores in downtown Indianapolis to find something to fit my ten dollar budget.  We succeeded at Lerner’s.   

This dress would be worn again at our secret marriage in Martinsville on my 17^th birthday.  Although my love had asked me to marry him right after graduation, I believed that 16 was too young an age to marry and so we waited. 

The graduation dance was held at a downtown Indianapolis hotel with a name band orchestra and the wartime songs.  "I'll Get By (As Long as I Have You)" , "Bésame Mucho)" and “Always.”  Yes, I’ll be loving you Always, our song for the time we had.  

 Oh, a night that belonged to once-in-a-lifetime memory.  The evening gowns that danced around us were sophisticated and expensive.  Taps on the shoulder took my partner away from me for short periods of time.  He always returned quickly to the young looking girl dressed in her ten dollar short white dress, not at all appropriate for the fancy ball.  

I was unaware of the contrast.  Dancing with others, I made missteps, inept in following.  In my lover’s arm, I swept around the floor with grace and a smile that would not leave my face.  I wanted this time to stay with me forever.    

The music ended, the stars were put away and morning appeared.  

Graduation crowds from all around the city were descending on Ferguson’s, an all-night restaurant on Washington Street.  I could barely stay awake while we ate bacon and eggs. 

Then the hour came for me to go to work.  Vacation days didn’t exist then.    Duane drove me to the trucking office where I would be pounding the billing machine. 

 I didn’t want to leave him, like a little kid pleading, “Please take me home with you.”  But we both knew that was impossible.  He walked me up the cricketedy steps to the office, met up with a couple of the local truck drivers at my company, said “Take care of her.”

My good guys piled their jackets on a long wooden bench, covered their kid typist with a coat and I slept.  I awoke, worked hard to make up for lost time and filed away the day of my graduation. 

We did marry and produced a son before the fickle finger of fate caused us to part. Destiny brought us back together to be married on my birthday once again 38 years later.  

College courses were begun at Indiana University, Bloomington, in 1945.  Stop and start, credits were added.  The graduation of a great granddaughter was the impetus for me to finish my two year college and earn an A.A. decree. 

When I wear the blue graduation cap and gown again this week, the past will be with me, a joyful time that hurts around the edges.