A Wild Story of Love and Betrayal

This is about my dear friend Carolina. I wrote it in my early blogging days. Five people read it, and so I apologize if you were one of the five and are seeing it again. I've edited it since then.  Carolina's already passed on, but I put it up again in honor of her birthday, which would have been today.

The hearty tunes of Flaco Jimenez's accordion pounded out of the jukebox in the little Mexican restaurant where we sat waiting. My husband and I had already gone through half of the chips and salsa. "Do you think they forgot?" he wondered aloud.

"No, no, they wouldn't have forgotten. Juan talked with me about this several times and was very certain they'd be here," I replied.

Juan was a colleague of mine. He knew of my love for storytelling. He told me about his grandmother, who was already 98.

"She's got some wonderful stories to tell, Shelly. If she's willing to talk to you, I don't think you'll regret it," he informed me.

Of course, I was intrigued, so we set up a time to meet at a local restaurant that was near a picturesque creek on the north side of town.

"It's one of Wuela's (Grandma's) favorite places," he explained.

As we waited I silently hoped she hadn't decided against it. Soon enough, the door opened. We strained to look, and finally Juan came through the door;  a tiny, regal woman on his arm. Her hair, though white, was sleek and wound in a tight braid that formed a bun on the back of her head. Less than 5 feet tall, she stood straight as a ramrod. She surveyed the diners with mild curiosity as she and Juan made their way to our table.

We rose to greet her and all were seated. After preliminary introductions, Wuela said, "My name is Carolina and I am 98 years old. My grandson tells me you are interested in my stories." (She communicated only in Spanish, but I am transcribing it here in English.)

We assured her we were and she settled back into her chair with a contented sigh.

"The story I am going to tell you now is one that has been dear to my heart since I first heard it when I was a little girl. Back in the early days of this town, close to the turn of the century, the Church saw fit to send a priest here to start a mission to minister to all the ranch workers.

"Father Diego was a handsome man, so charismatic and full of energy. In no time, the church here was thriving and the people did all they could to become involved. Father Diego was well loved, but he also had a little of the devil in his eye."

We hardly moved as she continued.

"One of the families was especially devoted to the church and to Father Diego. They did all they could to make his life easier and promote the work of the church. Their children were taught to revere the church and to obey what the priest told them. They had a lovely 18 year old daughter, Raquel. Father Diego had trouble attending to the needs of the parishioners and tending to his own needs, so they offered Raquel to him as a housekeeper who could keep him supplied with good meals and a clean home."

Raquel was innocent of the ways of men, but the devil in Father Diego's eye sparked to life when he saw how beautiful Raquel was. He whispered things to her she believed. In time, Raquel knew she was pregnant with Father Diego's child."

Carolina paused to take a sip of water.

"Raquel was scared to tell the Father, but she finally did. He was so angry that it frightened her. He quickly came up with a plan to send Raquel away to a convent in Mexico and then once the baby was born, to send it to an orphanage far away.

'Raquel was devastated. She knew now she'd been betrayed, and all the things Father Diego whispered in her ear when they were together were lies. She finally had no choice but to tell her parents. They were even more upset. Her father wanted to disown her, to send her away forever, but her mother prevailed and they decided to take the matter to the Lord in prayer. They refused to allow Raquel to go into a convent. People would just have to form their own opinions about the baby's paternity because they would not discuss it with anyone.

"It came time for the baby to be born and Raquel's mother and an elderly midwife were the only two present with Raquel. Raquel's father was out on the range with the other cow hands and wouldn't be back at home for weeks.

"Raquel was immediately enchanted by her baby's beauty and knew she could never allow her, with the tiny rosebud mouth and shiny black hair, to ever go into an orphanage.

"It wasn't long after the baby's birth when word got to Father Diego that his baby had been born. He saddled up his horse and set off at a gallop for Raquel's house, determined to take the baby away from her and save his reputation."

Carolina took a deep breath. Her still elegant hands stroked the water glass. She continued.

"One of Raquel's little brothers came running in to tell his sister and his mother that Father Diego was on the way on a fast horse.

"Raquel's mother bundled up Raquel and the baby and got them to the wagon. She slapped the horses sharply and they were off with a desperate speed.

"It was when they neared the creek that Raquel's mother saw how great an obstacle it would be. Raquel sat in the back, huddled with her baby, when her mother breathed a prayer and made a momentous decision. They would jump the creek in the wagon. By now, they could see the dust Father Diego's horse stirred as he drew closer.

"Raquel clutched the baby tightly to her chest as her mother slapped the horses hard. The team ran at breakneck speed toward the creek and the wagon tilted so wildly the three were in danger of being tipped out.

"Father Diego was so close now they could see even the angry expression on his face. Raquel held her breath as the horses leapt over the small creek, pulling the wagon with them. Her mother's whispered prayer became loud with thanks as they landed miraculously in one piece on the far side, still in the wagon. The horses were stunned by the impact and slowed. Raquel looked back.

Father Diego had reached the other side of the bank.

Carolina looked over at her grandson, as if for reassurance. "Go ahead, Wuela, it's OK to tell it."

"That creek is the very one you see outside this window, just around that bend," she pointed.

We craned our heads around to see it through the window.

"Father Diego laughed aloud with how easy his task was going to be with his powerful horse. He backed his horse up and then spurred him forward.

"Raquel knew in her heart of hearts they had no chance. She knew she was in the last few moments of ever cradling her precious one. Tears squeezed from her eyes at the sorrow of it.

"Father Diego jumped his horse over that little creek like it was nothing, but instead of landing securely on the other side, his horse's back foot slipped and they both toppled. The last sight Raquel had of the man who had been her lover was his shocked expression as he arced through the air and landed squarely on his head.

"Raquel's mother later told that she believed the priest was dead the moment he hit the ground. He was certainly dead by the time they climbed out of the wagon and walked tentatively back to him.

My own mind reeled.

"So they were safe? All three of them in the wagon?" My husband's eyes were wide as he asked.

Carolina nodded her head, a small smile on her face.

"What happened to the baby?" I pressed.

Carolina looked at us both square in the eye and paused a moment.

"They named her Carolina." She winked. "And she grew to live a long and fruitful life. "

Copyright 2012

Middle School Wisdom

Words of wisdom from middle schoolers who have been there, done that. Listen wisely, Grasshopper, lest you repeat the same errors.

1. If you are crazy hungry, and chocolate is your thing, be careful if you find the librarian's stash of chocolate brownie Fiber One bars. When you take four of them and eat them all at once during the passing period, your sins will betray you soon in the form of multiple and urgent trips to the bathroom.

2. Dye a wild blue streak in your hair. When your principal sends you home with the admonition to not come back until it's a natural hair color, dye it  blonde. Then, when your friends tell you "it just doesn't look like you", dye it jet black. Do not let it surprise you when your hair that is now the texture of aged straw falls out in chunks. But don't despair. The bald look might become the new in thing.

3. You see rappers on MTV who have shaved sections of their eyebrows off. You replicate their deed, because come on, face it, rappers are the shizz and the arbiters of high fashion. You get to school and are pulled into the principal's office. Your dad arrives at school after the principal's call to him. He has strong words to say about your rappers. He asks the principal for a black Sharpie marker. She gives him one. Your dad then colors in your eyebrows with the black Sharpie. It is a risky move to let your dad color in your eyebrows when he's angry because now you are a dead ringer for Groucho Marx.

4. You know your teacher has serious rodent trauma. She's told your class how she freaks when she sees one. Do not be surprised, then, when you decide to prank her by putting a realistic plastic rat on her desk chair that she steps on both your feet  hard as she runs screaming past you out the classroom door.

5. You sneak a forbidden cell phone into class and hide it in the left side of your bra. You congratulate yourself in first period math class because you even remembered to turn the ringer off. Think quickly when you realize the phone is set to vibrate and that it does so repeatedly until the teacher stops teaching and stares at you. Tell her you had a heart pacemaker installed over the weekend and that's what is actually doing the vibrating. Those teachers are gullible. They'll believe anything you tell them.

6.  Become aware after class has started that someone around you has stepped in dog poop on the way to school. People are sniffing and contorting their faces in disgust. Crack a loud joke about what kind of a loser steps in dog poop and doesn't even know it. As the teacher tracks the dog poop from the door straight to your desk, peek at the bottom of your shoe and  realize that loser is YOU.

7.  You are naive and you look up to your older brother who is full of worldly knowledge. When your teacher assigns the class to write a poem near Valentine's Day, ask your brother's help in finding just the right word to describe a unique present a boy can give to a girl to win her love. When you read the poem in class and the teacher turns red and gasps and some of the other kids snicker in shock, take the time to realize you shouldn't have been so trusting. Your teacher hands you a dictionary and you know then your prankster brother has actually given you a word that describes a very specific sexual act.

Learn from the stories of those who have gone before you, wise middle schoolers. Ignore not the lessons from the past.

Stuck In the Elevator With 7th Graders

The delicate octogenarian who greeted us at the door of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library was gentle and sweet. I was relieved as some trips there in past years had partnered my middle schoolers and I with docents who didn't like young teenagers.

"How much time do you have here, darlin'?" she asked me. I told her we had about an hour.

"Come on in, boys and girls. We have a lot to see about this fine president. You know, my father and LBJ once worked on a road crew together when they were 18, paving some roads north of Austin."

We continued on the tour as she continued the story.

We stopped at the next exhibit. "Students, let me tell you about how my father and LBJ worked on a road crew together when they were 18..." After the fourth time she told this story, several girls walked with me at the back of our group to the next exhibit.

"I think she has Alzheimer's," one girl whispered in my ear. I put my finger up to my mouth as I didn't want our lovely guide to think anything was amiss.

Another girl caught up with me. "Do you think it's Alzheimer's?" she asked quietly.

Again, I put my finger up to my mouth even as the docent caught my eye and again asked, "How much time do you all have here today?"

I answered her as she led us to the elevators.

"We won't all be able to fit on the same elevator, so we will go up in groups," she informed us. An elevator opened in front of me. Another teacher (who is also my friend) and I stepped in. Students streamed in while we held the doors open until we could fit no more. As the doors closed, I could hear the sweet docent telling our other teacher and students, "While we're waiting for this elevator, let me tell you about how my father and LBJ once worked on a road crew together..."

I pushed the button for the 10th floor, our next stop. The students chattered, mainly about how repetitive our guide was being. I told them they were not to let on that they had already heard it, but to be polite. The elevator started to rise and then abruptly shuddered to a stop.

"Oooh- that felt weird!" one boy said.

My friend caught my eye and raised her eyebrows. I was closest to the control panel, so I pushed 10 again. The elevator shook briefly and then stopped, dead in the air. No amount of button pushing produced any movement. The lights for 3 and 4 were blinking, so I assumed we were between those two floors.

"We're stuck!" one of the girls loudly announced.

"No, we're not," my friend said. "It will start to work in a minute. Be calm and you'll see."

"I have to go to the bathroom!" one boy said, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Really, really bad!"

"You didn't have to go when we stopped at the bathrooms 10 minutes ago," I reminded him.

"It just came on! What am I going to do?" he panicked.

"You will be fine. It will start up in a minute," my friend said.

"Who's got food? What if we have to stay here for a long time?" a chubby boy asked.

"You will not be needing food for the few minutes we will be in here," I assured him.

One girl, eyes wide, announced loudly, "I'm claustrophobic! I need to get out of here! I throw up when I can't get enough air!"

Before I could even answer, her friend dramatically chimed in, "I can't see people throw up because then I throw up, too! I feel really queasy right now." She put her head into her hands.

Things were escalating. Without using words to further inflame the kids, I tried to signal to my friend whether we should use the phone to summon for help. She shook her head intensely back and forth, knowing that we would have a full scale panic in a very small space if they heard us trying to use the phone.

I pushed the 10 button again. Nothing.

The chubby boy looked at his classmates. "You know, I read about a soccer team that was in a plane crash and they were stranded and they had to eat their friends to stay alive."

"You'd be the one we'd have to eat, " another boy shot back at him. "You've got the most meat on you!"

"No one's going to eat anyone," my friend said. 'Stop and be patient."

I continued to work the buttons.

The boy with the full bladder said, "Maybe I could go right here in the corner. You'd all have to close your eyes, but I don't think I can hold it any longer!"

At that moment, the elevator whirred back to life and we moved upwards to the 10th floor. The doors slid open and our guide was there to greet us with the rest of our group. "There you are," she said. "Sometimes we have trouble with these elevators. Now, how long do you all have here?"

I found my full bladder boy and pointed him in the direction of the restrooms. "Hurry!" I encouraged him.

"I guess it was a false alarm. I don't have to go anymore," he replied as we followed the group.

As we caught up, the docent waited for us to reach them and said, "I want to tell you the story of how my dad and LBJ worked together on a road crew when they were 18..."

Homecoming

Jay's eyes shone as he talked so fast I could hardly keep up with it. "I've got the idea! I'm going to make a difference! Want to hear what I'm going to do? Do you want to? Do you want to?"

I had to chuckle a little. "Slow down some and let me unlock my door. Then you can come on in and tell me."

Jay was one of my 8th graders and well liked among the kids. He was usually quiet, but his athletic abilities and handsome, square jawed face made the girls orbit around him like he was the sun.

"You know how we've been talking about making a difference?"

I nodded. We had spent time discussing how even small things can make big differences. As a class, we had come up with a plan for each student to do one thing, large or small, that would make a difference in someone else's life.

He continued, "I thought about it all night and I've decided what I want to do."

"What is it, Jay?"

"You know how homecoming is next week? I didn't think I wanted to ask anyone to the dance. But then I started thinking about the girls. I know some of them have already had more than one guy ask them to the dance. That made me wonder about some of the other girls, the ones...maybe who won't have anyone ask them."

I was intrigued. "Go on," I encouraged him.

"I want to make a difference in a girl's life and ask her to go to the homecoming dance with me," he said as he shyly lowered his eyes. He looked back up. "Some of them don't want to go to the dance at all, and some are just going with their friends. That left Julia."

I caught my breath as I thought of Julia. She was a transfer to our school and a very intelligent girl, but she had difficulty in social situations. She wore her hair long and usually not brushed very well. It mostly hung down in her face. She had the scourge of teenager-dom, acne, and wore clothes that were often ill fitting and unmatched. She was very quiet and although different kids had to tried to include her in their lunchtime groups, she declined, preferring to sit alone and read her book.

"Are you sure, Jay? This is a big deal, you understand. Girls don't take these invitations lightly and you don't want her to think you are just messing with her."

"Oh, I am sure," he nodded emphatically. "I'm going to let her know I'd like to get to know her as a friend. I've seen some of the books she reads and they are the same type I like. I'm going to try and ask her today. I'm kind of nervous, but my dad tells me I have a lot of gumption, so I'm going to use it."

"I hope it goes well for you, Jay, " I said as the bell rang.

I did not see Jay or Julia until the next day when their class came through the door for third period and we were so busy I did not get a chance to ask Jay about it. It actually slipped my mind until the day the homecoming mums were delivered.

Julia walked into class first, wearing her large purple and gold mum. Jay walked in later wearing one of the garter belts on his arm the girls traditionally buy for the boys.

After class, Jay stopped by my desk. "So, did she accept?" I asked him.

"Yes, she did, " he said with a blush. "When I asked her, she thought I was doing it to make fun of her. I told her I liked her as a friend and I thought she was very smart. I even showed her the book I was reading because it's by the same author as the book she's reading."

I nodded. He went on, "She took her time, but she finally said she'd go with me. She got me this garter belt for my arm and I got her that mum she's wearing."

The next time I saw the two of them was that night at the homecoming dance I helped to chaperon. Julia had taken time with her hair and it was pulled back with a small rose pinned to the side of it. She was wearing a dress that most likely was her mom's and heels she wasn't quite used to, but what struck me the most was the radiant smile she had on her face. I don't think I'd ever noticed what a beautiful smile she had, probably because she didn't show it off very much.

At our middle school dances, most of the dancing is just done by girls in the middle of the dance floor, with the boys sitting it out. This was the case this homecoming night, as well. I did see Julia and Jay at a table with other kids, talking and laughing, with Julia even joining in.

When the DJ announced the last dance, the boys scrambled to grab a girl and make it to the dance floor. I hadn't noticed either Jay or Julia dancing with each other or anyone else, but this time he grabbed her hand and led her to the middle. The first strains of the slow song came on, the lights dimmed and the big mirrored ball on the ceiling sent sparkling snowflakes of light floating over the dancers.

Neither Jay nor Julia appeared to have much experience with dancing as they held each other at arm's length, watched their feet, counted as they stepped, and moved in that awkward way teenagers do. But it was evident from their comfortable way with each other and how they laughed at their missteps that it was a good time for both.

Afterwards, I went in the girls' restroom to make sure everyone was on their way out. I saw Julia looking in the mirror.

"Julia, you looked beautiful out there!"

"Thank you," she said shyly as she averted her eyes.

"Did you have fun?" I asked.

She looked up, took a deep breath, and said, "I honestly think this is the best time I've ever had in my life." She broke out in that lovely smile. "And, what's even better, I think I have a friend I'll be friends with for a long, long time."

Sometimes it just takes a little gumption.

How to Entertain Your Teacher on a Field Trip

Dude, listen up. If you're a teenager going on a field trip, especially a 13 hour one, here are some cool things you can do to entertain your teachers. Those teachers work hard for you, and they deserve some fun in their lives.

1. In the dark hours of the morning before the sun has come up, open the sack lunch your mom made for you. Pry open the sandwich, see that it is tuna, decide you don't want it, and stick the sandwich under your seat. Later on in the day, when the temperature is over 100 and the bus air conditioner has quit working, your teacher will have a great time searching for what is creating that crazy smell.

2. With a group of your friends, sing The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars over and over and over and over and over again until it sticks so well in your teachers' brains they cannot get it out of their heads and are haunted by it. They need good music in their lives, too.

3. Especially if you are male, engage your other male classmates in a silent-but-deadly fart off contest. It is automatic disqualification if any one makes a noise with it. Your teacher will appreciate you keeping those around you quiet.

3. In the restroom of the museum, wait until your teacher is fully engaged in her stall. Then, loudly yell out, "OMG! Annie just walked out of the museum with a strange man!" Annie is your best friend in the 8th grade and you don't want to see harm come to her. When your teacher bolts out of the bathroom stall, wild-eyed, and Annie walks out of another stall in the bathroom, just shrug and say, "Oops, my bad. Must have been someone else." Teachers need more excitement in their lives.

4. In the middle of a freeway you and your class are having to cross on foot in one of the largest cities in the U.S., stop in the center of the freeway, place your folder between your knees and take your jacket off to readjust it. Move slowly when your teacher implores you to hurry. Your rural upbringing has made you savvy to the ways of traffic in large cities and you want your teacher to know you are mature enough to handle it.

5. Repeatedly motion to passing 18 wheelers to honk their loud diesel horns. This will break up the monotony of a quiet bus and your teacher will appreciate you keeping it lively.

6. If a classmate in the back of the bus throws up in the aisle, stare at it as it sloshes past long enough so that you throw up, as well. Your teacher will be happy that her lesson about empathy for others has taken hold in your heart.

7. When your bus driver drops your group off at a Jack in the Box that is a gathering place for scary/homeless/tranny/crackheads, smile widely at some of the citizens therein while your teachers organize the back of the line. When one approaches you and begins talking nonsense, remember your teacher's admonition to you not to talk to strangers. Reach in your backpack and find the information paper on the field trip you were supposed to have given your mom, you know, the one with your teacher's personal cell phone number on it. Give it to the crackhead tranny, because this person probably just wants information on your trip.

8. Later, on the bus ride home, when your teacher's cell phone rings and she becomes agitated, hangs up, and asks who gave a crackhead her phone number, let her know that it is probably the cool person you met at the Jack in the Box. She's been teaching you all about characterization, and she will be happy that you found a very interesting person to write about.

9. Write a note of thanks to your teachers for taking you and your classmates on the field trip and get everyone to sign it. You've had a great day and you want them to know it.

10. Smile widely when you see how much it has melted their hearts.

Sometimes My Mouth is Faster Than My Brain...

I like to think that as I've aged, I've learned to reason out my answers, measure my words, and make what I say count. However, there are times when my mouth moves in a gear faster than my brain.

Case in Point 1: I was told a colleague had been going through difficulties in her marriage, although this colleague did not want anyone to know. She had also lost a great deal of weight. I don't run into her often, so I resolved the next time I saw her to make a positive comment about her weight loss. Sure enough, we saw each other in the work room. My mind had already prepared an energetic compliment about how good she looked.

She said, "Shelly, have you heard about me?"

Ah, perfect opening for my weight loss compliment to her. My mind was already sending the message to my mouth to say, "I can see you've lost so much weight! You really look terrific!"

My mouth, on the other hand, was already engaged and didn't get that message. Instead, what came out was this, with the same enthusiasm and tone I was reserving for the weight loss compliment. "You're getting a divorce!"

She was very gracious, and that is what she had wanted to talk with me about, so we had a conversation about it, but I had put my foot so far in my mouth it was lodged behind my tonsils.

Case in Point 2: Oh, I hesitate to tell you this one. The shame of it sticks to me like a scarlet S. Please, don't judge me...my mouth has a mind of it's own.

I have a number of large fitness balls I keep in my room that my students sit on in place of chairs (there are great studies out about how this helps kids focus) and then I also use them a couple of times a week in my fitness class. They are yellow, blue, or green, and the kids love them. When I returned yesterday after having a sub, two of them were missing.

I had to go through a huge amount of paperwork to get these and I didn't want to be missing any. My whole focus was on getting them back. Perhaps another teacher had just borrowed them, or some of the kids had left them in the gym. The quickest way to get word out is via the intercom, so off I trotted to the office.

My mind prepared a quick announcement about getting the fitness balls back rapidly to my room. I pressed the button that would send my voice to every office and classroom in the entire district.

Ohhhh, this is hard to type. Again, please don't judge me. It was my mouth. My mind had nothing to do with it.



Here it comes.



"Will the one who has the two big, blue balls please bring them to the office?" I cheerily intoned.

Only when the words came out and my ears heard that horror did it register what I had actually just said. The secretary looked at me, eyes wide, and then dissolved into hysterical guffaws. The principal staggered out of her office gasping as if she'd been hit with a poisoned gas attack, clutched her chest, and sank to her knees from laughing so hard. I slunk back to my room and saw I had already received several emails from other teachers. "Really? BIG, blue ones?" and "Who do you think is sitting on the big, blue balls?" The others that continued coming through the entire day I will not even repeat, but you get the idea.

I am sorry. This is not the vernacular I use in regular conversations. But this is what happens when the mind is not allowed to evaluate in advance what comes out of the mouth.

So, dear friends, there you have it. My mouth operates in a universe all its own. And please, if you have your own stories of a mouth that moves at lightning speed, feel free to describe it here. It would make me feel oh, so much better to know I am not the only one.

Everyday Heroes

Some folks live their lives, do spectacular things consistently, and are never known beyond their circle of family and friends. I love people like that, who do great things not for any recognition, but because those things need doing and those things make the world a better place. These are some everyday heroes I know:

Olivia: Olivia is a grandmother of many and a great grandmother to more. She works in our cafeteria, one of a handful of elderly ladies who work part time there. They arrive early enough in the morning that it could still be called nighttime to roll out homemade tortillas, doughnuts, and biscuits as big as my hand for children who come ready to eat. Olivia and her husband are far from wealthy financially. They subsist on her part time salary and what he draws from Social Security. Their home is old and small, but immaculate.

State budget woes have forced school districts to make painful cuts. When it became apparent one part time worker would have to be trimmed from the already spare cafeteria staff, Olivia could see how troubled the other ladies were who worked with her, since they were all single. She went home, prayed, and talked with her husband. The next day, she went to the supervisor with a strange request.

"You can cut me, and I want to continue to work. For free, " Olivia said to the supervisor, whose mouth had dropped open.

"Whaa, uhh, uhh, what?" she squeaked out. "Work for free? No salary?"

"No salary," replied Olivia. "If you're able to start paying me later, then that's fine, but if you can't, that's fine, too."

Every morning, Olivia is at her station with her trademark smile and warm biscuit, tortilla, or doughnut to pass out to the students. "And it's a good morning today!" she tells each of them. And it is.

Jenny: When I began losing the first of the 167 lbs I've lost., I was too embarrassed to go to a gym to exercise. All my workouts were done at home. I longed to join a group, but just couldn't force myself. One morning after church, Jenny with the gorgeous, sculpted body caught me in the foyer. "Hey, you're losing weight! Are you exercising?" I told her I was, but only at home.

"You need to come to my exercise class. The price is right because it's free, and I'll kick your butt, but you'll feel comfortable within the class."

At the prodding of one of my daughters, I finally went. Jenny was right. I felt very comfortable with her style of teaching, and she did kick my butt. Jenny's motto is, If you puke, clean it up. If you faint, roll out of the way so no one steps on you. And if you die, make sure someone comes to pick up your body.

Her no nonsense, no whining approach to working out has made a believer out of me and all the women who come. Many of the others are single moms, with pinch tight budgets and great responsibilities on their shoulders. A number of them have come out of bad relationships and their self image has taken a hit. Jenny prods and cajoles them into shape, giving them laughs and a safe place to be part of group. She always refuses to take a cent for her efforts, although she usually ends up buying or seeking out donations of equipment and even workout clothes and shoes for them.

There are also a couple of us who have come out of morbid obesity and although we have thought at times we were going to die in her workouts, she's got us all still living, breathing, and stronger than ever.

Naomi: Naomi and Lyle were literally childhood sweethearts. They met in the second grade and it was in the third grade he told her she was going to be his wife. She thought he was crazy, but sure enough, when they were 18, they married and he shipped off to fight in World War II.

Her prayers for him were fervent, and the Lord brought him home safely after two years of combat. Her hopes of building their family took a cruel turn when she suffered miscarriage after miscarriage. Lyle didn't want to adopt, so she swallowed that dream and poured herself into caring for him. People said they almost moved as one person, they were so close.

When Lyle died in their 64th year of marriage, Naomi thought it best that she should die, too. She even asked God to take her home. She was disappointed each morning when she awoke, still breathing. She finally gave herself a good talking to and decided since she was still breathing each morning, she must still have purpose.

She remembered how she had longed for children, and although she had many nieces and nephews and their families to dote on and love, she wanted to do more. She went to a large children's hospital that cares for babies born too early and those battling serious diseases. She read how these babies needed human touch to help them thrive, and sometimes their exhausted parents needed breaks. So Naomi became a rocker.

She reports every morning to a special room where she disinfects herself, dons a sterile gown, and receives babies to cuddle and rock.

While she rocks them, she sings them the songs she stored in her heart but never got to sing to her own children. She whispers in these babies' ears and tells them they will be great men and women some day, how much they are loved, and how very special they are. When the nurses come to pick them up from Naomi, the babies are calm and peaceful, their vitals are strong.

And Naomi, who once asked God to end her life, now prays for more days so she can continue to love these little ones.

A Wild Story of Love and Betrayal

The hearty tunes of Flaco Jimenez's accordion pounded out of the jukebox in the little Mexican restaurant where we sat waiting. My husband and I had already gone through half of the chips and salsa picante. "Do you think they forgot?" he wondered aloud.

"No, no, they wouldn't have forgotten. Juan talked with me about this several times and was very certain they'd be here," I replied.

Juan was a colleague of mine. He knew I was a history buff, that I loved to visit with the extreme elderly, and that I could remember a story forever. He told me about his grandmother, who was already 98.

"She's got some wonderful stories to tell, Shelly. If she's willing to talk to you, I don't think you'll regret it," he informed me.

Of course, I was intrigued, so we set up a time to meet at a local restaurant that was near a creek on the north side of town.

"It's one of Wuela's (Grandma's) favorite places," he explained.

He later reported that he'd spoken with her and she was willing, if I was willing to listen.

As we sat and waited I silently hoped that she hadn't decided against it. Soon enough, the door opened. We strained to look, and finally Juan came through the door,  a tiny, regal woman on his arm. Her hair, though white, was sleek and wound in a tight braid that formed a bun on the back of her head. Although less than 5 feet tall, she stood straight as a ramrod. She surveyed the diners with mild curiosity as she and Juan made their way to our table.

We rose to greet her and all were seated. After preliminary introductions, Wuela said, "My name is Carolina and I am 98 years old. My grandson tells me you are interested in my stories." (She communicated only in Spanish, but I am transcribing it here in English.)

We assured her we were and she settled back into her chair with a contented sigh.

"The story I am going to tell you now is one that has been dear to my heart since I first heard it when I was a little girl. Back in the early days of this town, close to the turn of the century, the Church (the Catholic church) saw fit to send a priest here to start a mission to minister to all the ranch workers." (A very large ranch is based in my town and in those days, most of the workers lived on the ranch with their families and rarely left it for any reason.)

"Father Diego was a handsome man, so charismatic and full of energy. In no time, the church here was thriving and the people did all they could to become involved. Father Diego was well loved, but he also had a little of the devil in his eye."

We hardly moved as she continued.

"One of the families was especially devoted to the church and to Father Diego. They did all they could to make his life easier and promote the work of the church. Their children were taught to revere the church and to obey what the priest told them. They had a lovely 18 year old daughter, Raquel. They saw that Father Diego had trouble attending to the needs of the parishioners and tending to his own needs. They offered Raquel to him as a housekeeper who could keep him supplied with good meals and a clean home."

I could already sense the direction this was going.

"Raquel was innocent of the ways of men, but the devil in Father Diego's eye sparked to life when he saw how beautiful Raquel was. He whispered things to her she believed, but all were lies. In time, Raquel knew she was pregnant with Father Diego's child."

Carolina paused to take a sip of water.

"Raquel was scared to tell the Father, but she finally did. He was so angry that it frightened her. He quickly came up with a plan to send Raquel away to a convent in Mexico and once the baby was born, to send it to an orphanage far away.

'Raquel was devastated. She knew now she'd been betrayed, and all the things Father Diego whispered in her ear when they were together were lies. She finally had no choice but to tell her parents. They were even more upset. Her father wanted to disown her, to send her away forever, but her mother prevailed and they decided to take the matter to the Lord in prayer. They refused to allow Raquel to go into a convent. People would just have to form their own opinions about the baby's paternity because they would not discuss it with anyone.

"It came time for the baby to be born and Raquel's mother and an old midwife were the only two present with Raquel. Raquel's father was out on the range with the other cow hands and wouldn't be back at home for weeks.

"Raquel was immediately enchanted by her baby's beauty and knew she could  never allow her, with the tiny rosebud mouth and shiny black hair, to ever go into an orphanage.

"It wasn't long after the baby's birth that word got to Father Diego that his baby had been born. He saddled up his horse and set off at a gallop for Raquel's house, determined to take the baby away from her and save his reputation."

Carolina took a deep breath as if the next part was difficult. She hesitated a bit and continued.

"One of Raquel's little brothers came running in to tell his sister and his mother that Father Diego was on the way on a fast horse.

"Hurry, son, hitch the two horses up to the wagon!" his mother called to him. "We've got to get Raquel and the baby away from here before he comes!"

"She bundled up Raquel and baby and got them to the wagon. She slapped the horses sharply and they were off, driving that wagon much faster than was safe, but it was necessary.

"It was when they neared the creek that Raquel's mother saw how great an obstacle it would be. Raquel sat in the back, huddled with her baby, when her mother breathed a prayer and made a momentous decision. They would jump the creek in the wagon. By now, they could see the dust Father Diego's horse stirred as he drew closer.

"Raquel clutched the baby tightly to her chest as her mother slapped the horses harder than she ever had. The horses ran at breakneck speed toward the creek and the wagon tilted so wildly the three were in danger of being tipped out.

"He was so close now they could see even the angry expression on Father Diego's face. Raquel held her breath as the horses leapt over the small creek, pulling the wagon with them. Her mother's whispered prayer became loud with thanks as they landed miraculously in one piece on the far side, still in the wagon. The horses were stunned and slowed. Father Diego had reached the other side of the bank.

Carolina looked over at her grandson, as if to get reassurance. "Go ahead, Wuela, it's OK to tell it."

"That creek is the very one you see outside this window, just around that bend," she explained. We craned our heads around  to see it through the window.

"Father Diego laughed aloud with how easy his task was going to be with his powerful horse. He backed his horse up and then spurred him forward.

"Raquel knew in her heart of hearts they had no chance. She knew she was in the last few moments of ever cradling her precious one. Tears squeezed from her eyes at the sorrow of it.

"Father Diego jumped his horse over that little creek like it was nothing, but instead of landing securely on the other side, his horse's back foot slipped and they both toppled. The last sight Raquel had of the man who been her lover was his shocked expression as he arced through the air and landed squarely on his head.

"Raquel's mother later told that she believed the disgraced priest was dead the moment he hit the ground. He was certainly dead by the time they climbed out of the wagon and walked tentatively back to him.

My own mind reeled. "So they were safe? Both of them?" I had to know.

Carolina nodded her head, a small smile on her face.

"What ended up happening to the baby?" my husband asked.

Carolina looked at us both square in the eye.

"They named her Carolina. She grew to live a long and fruitful life. She has told her story to very few people outside of her family, but now she has just told the two of you the story of her beginnings."