Great Memories at Chick’s Night Out

Every Tuesday evening for a couple years now a group of us have been meeting for dinner at what we call Chick’s Night Out. It started in a local pizza joint but in recent months has moved to a place famous for its huge and utterly magnificent salads. We never know how many will show up but it is always a treat. Even though all the chicks are 50 and above it is a good opportunity to remind ourselves of our “chick-ness” and to enjoy one another. We never want to go home when we should.

Last night someone asked about how I knew so much about working in a diner (she is reading The Old Mermaid’s Tale) so I told about my job working in a diner in Erie, PA in the sixties and all the varied experiences that entailed. From there we sort of segued into tales of early jobs and it was hilarious. I love stories like that but, of course, I absolutely love stories from people’s lives anyway.

One told about her early years working in a Woolworth’s store and how, in some impetuous and youthful bout of enthusiasm, she decided to free all the parakeets — in the store — during the day — while customers were shopping. Another told a story about a job that required her to take an iguana and a boa constrictor on a Spanish-language television program to talk to kids about them which was fine until the hot lights got the critters over-stimulated. And then someone told about the time she was working in a department store and boldly confronted a would-be shoplifter, much to her co-workers shock. Of course, what she didn’t know was that that same shoplifter had pulled a knife on the last person who confronted him. She apparently was scarier than her predecessor because the guy slammed the item down on the counter and stalked off in a royal huff.

I love these things. I love that we can share them and laugh about them and encourage one another to tell more. Tell about our hippie days, tell about our Catholic schoolgirl days, tell about that first and usually misguided love.

When I taught writing I used to use a meditation technique. I would lead my students through a meditation and a guided visualization and then into a writing exercise designed to get them writing about things they had possibly forgotten. One of the lessons I did involved your first day on an early job. It always produced hilarious results.

Once I had a large group and, following the visualization, I sat back while they wrote. Within a few minutes I noticed one of the women wiping her eyes. She was sniffling and crying and writing away and finally almost sobbing. I walked over and asked if she was alright.

“Oh, yes,” she replied her eyes shining and filled with tears. “I forgot all about this! I loved these people and it was one of the most fun times in my life. I’m so happy I remembered it.”

And when she read her essay it was just wonderful. It made everyone in the room laugh and smile with her.

Memories are such precious things and turning them into stories is a gift to those we love. That’s why thing like these internet blogs are so wonderful — because it gives us a pace to share.

I’m looking forward to next Tuesday night.

Thanks for reading.