Sadie

Just yesterday I was paid a compliment by a young woman half my age. She said she "loved my hair". I too am fond of my hair as far as hair goes. We women find it very easy to pick ourselves apart, making lists of all the things we'd change if we could. I consider myself fortunate where my hair is concerned, I have hair! It hasn't fallen out due to a disorder or illness, that alone makes it good. I have kept it long, it has always been completely straight, against my wishes sometimes, and I have let it "go gray gracefully", or silver as I prefer to call it. It used to be brown, I'm really not a brown kind of girl, I like black and white, so true to my nature, gray hair! I keep it long so I can put it up off of, and away from, my face and neck on the hot summer days of Florida. I've been complimented many times actually, sometimes by total strangers who just wish to pay the compliment. I've been told I'm too old for long hair, I should cut it, and still others have said "if you'd dye your hair you'd look 10 years younger"! My response is always the same, "I'll always have long hair, as long as it's my choice to do so, and I don't care to look 10 years younger, I'm not"!

It's funny what impresses us, especially when we're young. Those who know us are often surprised to hear us relay memories, that they had no idea had been impressed in our hearts and minds. Sadie made quite an impression. So did her husband Ben, and their daughter Inez.

We attended the same church, a beautiful white clapboard church, with a bell steeple, tall arched windows, two narrow staircases, one on each side of the vestibule, that lead to the balcony, and a "crows nest" right in front. The pews were wood with carved ends, the floors were wood, they creaked under the weight of footsteps, especially in the balcony. The building was donated to the congregation with the stipulation that it be moved to another location, and so it was. When I was a child the church was more than 100 years old. It still stands, though it was moved again right next door, when the congregation donated it to the historical preservation society, in order to clear their land for a more modern sanctuary. I never loved the new one like the old one. There are a couple of "must sees" when I go back to that town. The little white church is one of them.

Some Sunday's they would be in church, Sadie and Ben, and Inez in her wheel chair, stricken with polio. I felt a kind of kindred spirit to their family, because I knew what it was like to be part of a family with a "broken" member. My brother was my family's Inez, irreversibly, permanently damaged at age 2 from a reaction to being stung by a swarm of bees. We understood a more difficult life. What must it take for a mother, a father, to daily find joy and peace, with a situation no one would choose? They know strength and patience, and delight in small things, that no one not in that "private club" could ever know.

I always loved the Sunday morning services that ended in the whole congregation circling the sanctuary, holding hands, singing "Blessed Be The Tie", even as a child it moved me. Simple experiences that can't be duplicated. Sometimes Ben would be asked to close in prayer. His prayer always began with "our dear heavenly Father"..., I can still hear the way it sounded in his low, drawn way. I believed he had a more direct line to God's ears.

I'm not entirely sure what it was about them, maybe age, they were quite old, Maybe demeanor, maybe I could even as a child, sense their love for God, their commitment to each other, and to their bed ridden daughter. If they were able to attend church, and they did regularly, Inez was slumped in her wheelchair, I don't think there was any advantage in church, or any other outing for her. What an effort for Ben and Sadie to be there, surely a wonderful reprieve from Monday through Saturday for them. When they were unable to attend, some from the church would make a house call, let them know they were missed, take them a meal, or relay messages from well wishers to help them stay connected. One Sunday it was my Dad and I who visited. I'm not sure why I was along, I was very young, 8 or 10 at the most, but there for whatever reason, I was. We were invited in, I saw Inez in her bed, how sad I felt for them all. I'd only ever seen her in the wheelchair, somehow in the bed she was even more sick, more helpless. Ben was in regular week day clothes, I'd only seen him looking very distinguished in formal Sunday suits. Sadie always wore her hair in braids wrapped neatly in circles on her head. Her clothes were always simple, modest, muted colors. I don't recall jewelry, maybe a pearl necklace, and watch, but certainly never anything "frivolous". She wore heavy hose and oxford type shoes, her look was always functional, business like, school marm-ish. But that day, that day she was, in my child's eye view, absolutely beautiful! She was soft, she wore a white robe, not day clothes, it was "I won't be going out today" clothes, and her hair was not circling her head in braids. It was down, down, down, to her knees it looked to be! Softly waved, gray, happy to be set free from it's usual tightly braided bondage. I was mesmerized. From that day forward, I knew I would always have long hair, and when the time came, it would be gray.

That brief encounter with a woman I hardly knew anything about, determined for me all those years ago, the look of my hair today. More than 40 years have passed, I'm not even sure if my memory is accurate. Maybe I have embellished it in my mind. There is no one with whom I can compare the memory, only my Dad was there. He can't recall a memory he didn't even know impressed me! But I faithfully relay the story, such as I recall, to everyone who says "your hair is pretty, don't cut it, leave it gray". I tell them of beautiful Sadie.

She's in heaven now, has been many years. I'll tell her myself one day how she has been so much a part of my life. I'm sure she never had any idea the mark she'd leave on that little girl, or why the girl would be so enamoured. It was just her. I can't help but also think of Ben, my lifelong impression of him is precious too. And Inez, she can speak now, and dance, and walk hand in hand with Sadie, and Ben. How lovely to imagine them together now. How exciting to think that one day they'll be rewarded for their example to a little girl they didn't even know was paying attention. A little girl, whose whole life did not forget. I wonder, how many more like me are there? I marvel at how much bigger than we know, our lives are. Who have I impressed? Anyone? In a positive way? I wish to impress like Sadie, with more than my hair. If, like Sadie, my hair helps the memory remain, so be it, but may the memory be coupled with an antique church, and hand holding songs, and direct line to God prayers. May the memory be of compassion toward those who need bracing from life's troubles. May the memory be quiet, even secret, but solid and sure enough to become. She never knew. One day, I'd like to tell her how I've loved her a long time, and Sadie...Thank you.
P.J.