Talismans For a Friend

A Buttons and Bows Tale

“Love is the open sesame to every soul." - Elizabeth Cady Stanton

The Proprietress was just closing up shop for the day when the first fat flakes began to fall. The sodden gray clouds had been hunkering closer and closer to the earth all day, infusing the air with the crisp metallic scent that precedes snow, so she wasn’t surprised - just delighted. She grabbed her navy pea coat from the rack by the door, wrapped her hand-knit lilac scarf around her neck and walked out the door. All the other shopkeepers had called it quits for the day, and the icy roads had cleared the center of town of traffic. Only her cats - Eudora and Madge - were there to hear her talk to the sky - saying thank you for the sign.

An outspoken critic of big-box stores and the commercialization of the holidays, the Proprietress refused to decorate her shop until the first snowfall. Each year, as she waited for flakes to flutter from the sky, she listened with special care to the stories women told - to the themes running through their conversations in her store and in the weekly support group. From these stories she crafted items she hoped women would cherish and carry with them like talismans into the new year.

Outside, she stepped from beneath the striped red-and-white awning and turned her face to the sky smiling as the feather-light flakes kissed her cheeks. The story she’d shared at last night’s group was still on her mind. She hadn’t planned to say anything, but news of the death of an old friend prompted her to share. “I have something, actually someone, I’d like to talk about,” she’d said when the opening invocation was over. All around her the women turned in her direction, shifting in their chairs to get comfortable, preparing to listen.

“Yesterday I learned that an old friend from college passed away,” the Proprietress began. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought about her for decades. We lost touch when I moved to Japan, but reading about all she accomplished in her obituary brought a lot of memories back. I’d like to share some of them with you.

“I first met Anna in a Shakespeare class during my junior year in college. The first day of class I was running late and the lecture hall was almost full when I arrived. The only seats left were at the back of the room beside a slender blonde woman sitting in an electric wheelchair. When she saw I needed a seat she smiled and gestured to the chair beside her. “Don’t worry,” she said seeing, my hesitation, “I'm paralyzed, not contagious.”

“‘Well that’s a relief!’ I laughed as I sat down.

“Our professor turned out to be not only a terrific teacher but a gifted Shakespearean actor as well. He began by reading Act I of Midsummer’s Night Dream aloud then asked us to work in pairs to read and discuss Act II with one another. When we were done he brought the whole class back together to compare notes and answer questions.

“Anna and I worked together on that first, in-class assignment, falling into an easy exchange as we worked to make sense of Shakespeare’s vocabulary and the rhythmic patterns in his sentences. It was so much fun that we agreed to meet later in the week to work on the homework we’d been given.

“I quickly learned that Anna was both pragmatic about her disability - the result of a drunk driver t-boning her car and severing her spine - and cheerfully dismissive of any attempts to limit her activities and plans. She was paralyzed from the neck down and had to be strapped into her chair to sit up. She had some movement in one of her arms (allowing her to turn pages in books with the eraser end of a pencil) but had difficulty swallowing at times. She had to be watched constantly to make sure she didn’t choke while eating. Despite all of this, Anna was very particular about her appearance. She was a stylish dresser - favoring long, broomstick skirts with bright patterns and embroidered peasant blouses - and loved wearing ribbons and flowers in her hair.

“The other things I discovered were Anna’s voracious intellect and ribald sense of humor. She delighted in finding and trying out Shakespeare’s best insults on unsuspecting friends. One of my favorite memories is of being greeted with, ‘Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish!’ as I walked through the door for one of our study sessions.

“‘Be prepared,’ Anna’s best friend and caretaker Laura said, rolling her eyes. ‘She’s been practicing all morning.’

“It was hard to be around Anna for long without becoming aware of the many health issues and practical, day-to-day challenges related to her condition. Just getting her up, toileted, bathed, and dressed each morning was a major undertaking. But everyone who worked with and cared for Anna, including her instructors and myself, did their best to encourage her sense of autonomy. Unfortunately that autonomy had its risks, which was how Anna and I went from being casual study buddies to real friends.

“The day of what we’d later call the “Eventide,” a nasty winter storm blew through, knocking down trees and soaking the ground with several inches of rain. Since I didn’t own a car, and lived a good 15-minute bike ride from campus, I’d elected to stay home and wrestle with the French verbs I was trying to memorize. When the phone rang, I almost didn’t pick it up. I only changed my mind when I realized my boyfriend might be calling to make dinner plans. ‘Hello?’ I said.

“‘Hello, this is Phyllis Barber. I’m a librarian at the main library here on campus and I’m calling on behalf of Anna P. She could use some help.”

“‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What can I do?’

“‘Would it be possible for you to come to the library? Apparently the battery in her chair has died and her caretaker isn’t home.’

“‘I’ll be right there,’ I said. I grabbed a blanket and sweater, stuffed them into my backpack, and hurried out the door.

“Anna was waiting for me by the main entrance to the library looking calm and amused. ‘Forsooth, I am in a pickle,’ she greeted me. ‘My trusty steed hath died and I am in need of a push.’

“‘I can see that,’ I laughed, ‘but you know what the bard would say: Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done, is done. Let’s get you home.’

“Getting Anna home proved to be harder and took longer than I expected. The chair was heavy and the roads through campus were awash with mud, twigs, and leaves from the storm. It was already late afternoon - that peculiar, half-lit time of day when a kind of hush descends over and softens the edges of everything. Knowing Anna’s body had trouble regulating its temperature, I started to worry about the chilly breeze that was still blowing. I stopped pushing, dug the blanket I’d brought with me out of my pack and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Where the heck is everyone?’ I wondered aloud. I’d asked the librarian to keep trying to reach Laura, and was prepared to ask one of the cyclists, who would normally be pedaling past on their way to class, for help. But the roads were literally deserted.

“‘It seems we’ve entered the Twilight Zone,’ Anna said with a mischievous grin.

“‘I guess so,’ I agreed as I went back to pushing.

“‘That’s the thing about adventures,’ Anna continued. ‘They’re not really adventures unless some danger and suspense are involved.’

“‘Is that what we’re having, an adventure?’ I asked feeling my mood lighten.

“‘Of course!’ Anna said. ‘How do heroines become heroines unless they encounter challenges? I have almost no privacy and few opportunities for adventure, or haven’t you noticed?’

“‘Oh, I noticed,’ I said. ‘Your entourage is formidable and not conducive to adventuring.’

“‘Not that I don’t need my army of helpers to keep my body going,’ she added, ‘but friendships…’

“‘…friendships are based on more than Shakespeare,’ I finished for her. ‘I sense you have questions. What would you like to know?’

“‘I do!’ Anna said. ‘Tell me about your childhood. How did you fall in love with reading and what were your favorite books?’

"That was not the question I’d been expecting. It felt as if she’d peeked behind the curtain of the fortress I’d built around my childhood and invited me to play. And so I told her about talking to animals and wanting to be anything but human; about my obsession with horses and falling in love with the library where I was free to find and check out as many stories about them as I could find. In return, Anna talked about growing up in a family with three brothers, about her love of sports like soccer, field hockey, and tennis and how she fell in love with the Sierra Nevada moutains. ‘I was a mountain guide for a trekking company there until the accident,’ she said.

“‘I’m sorry,’ I said, not knowing what else to say. The tragedy was undeniable and I knew I couldn’t begin to understand what she’d been through.

“‘You’ve never asked,’ she said.

“‘You’ve never offered,’ I replied. ‘It felt impolite and too personal to ask. Besides,’ I continued, searching for the right words, ‘it doesn’t really matter in a way. I mean it matters of course but knowing more wouldn’t change how I see you - how I feel about our friendship.’

“‘It’s not a pretty story,’ she said.

“‘How could it be?’ I asked. ‘But if you want to tell me, I want to listen.’

“And so she did. She told me about driving her VW Bug into the intersection, looking right, and seeing a gray sedan run the red light; about the driver’s startled look of horror as he realized he was about to plow into her; about the sudden wrenching impact and sharp pain in her head; about waking up in an ambulance to find the medics running their hands all over her body in inappropriate ways - ways she couldn’t feel; about the doctors in the hospital who kept reassuring her that she could still have sex - still have children if she wanted them - when all she wanted to know was whether she’d be able to walk.

“She had only just begun to tell me about the six months she’d spent in rehab,” the Proprietress continued, “about how she finally decided to continue studying to be a lawyer - when Laura appeared.

“‘Oh my god,’ Laura gasped, completely out of breath. ‘The library just called. Are you all right? What happened? Why didn’t Katie pick you up?’

“‘The beast ran out of juice,’ Anna said, patting the arm of her chair, ‘and Katie never showed.’

“‘She’s okay,’ I interjected, moving aside so Laura could take over the job of pushing the chair. ‘She called me from the library when they couldn’t reach you.’

“‘Thank you,’ Laura said with a frown that looked anything but thankful. ‘I’ve got it from here.’

“I walked around to the front of the chair and smiled into Anna’s eyes. ‘Thank you for the chat,’ I said. ‘To be continued?’

“‘To be continued,’ Anna agreed.

“And did you? Did you continue?” Ruth, who was sitting in the chair directly across from the Proprietress, asked.

“Oh yes,” the Proprietress said. “She taught me so much about adversity. And she was one of the funniest, most fearless people I’ve ever known. I just wish we’d been better about staying in touch.”

“What happened to her, do you know?” Wilma asked.

“She graduated from law school and became a Trusts and Estates lawyer ,” the Proprietress said. “She also married and traveled abroad with her husband. And, being Anna, she always gave back to those around her, serving on the boards of several organizations and museums.”

“Incredible.”

“Yes, she was,” the Proprietress agreed. “I’ve decided to celebrate her life with a series of designs for the holidays.”

“What a great idea,” said Sally. “Have you come up with anything yet?”

“Just some sketches,” the Proprietress said. “I’ll let you know when I have actual pieces to show you. I’m thinking about glass ornaments that could be hung in windows as well as on trees. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” the women said in unison. “Just perfect.’

NOTE: The names of people and places have been changed to protect the privacy of those in Anna’s life.

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Update From the Proprietress

Below are five of the ornaments the Proprietress has designed to commemorate Anna’s life. Just click on the image to purchase and/or learn more.

P.S. If you’ve got a story to share about a woman who’s inspired you please reach out.

Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.

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