I am so very proud to share a bit of a chapter from my book newly available via Kindle at www.amazon.com or via Nook at www.BN.com If you do not own one of these devices Amazon graciously offers a free kindle app for your PC. You download it for free and then purchase the book and you can read it at your leisure online.
It is my sincere hope that you will find hope and humor and love within these pages and that these things will add to the joy in your life.
There are few things that I enjoy more than airports. Any airport thrills me but especially those on the west coast that offer for purchase San Francisco Sourdough bread! Having a See’s Chocolate kiosk doesn’t hurt either. I was raised to love airports from an early age. My Mom and her sister were big fans of the hustle and bustle of airports. Often on a Saturday morning the beige rotary dial telephone would ring quite early. Not long after the sound of rushing water could be heard entering the tub in the all pink bathroom down the hall. You could barely finish your Sugar Smacks before the sound of that turquoise Thunderbird with the Tiger in its tank would be heard roaring up the street, signaling that Aunt Lue was itching to hit the road! We did not like to keep her waiting because she had no hesitation whatsoever to honk the horn if you were not out the door in 8.3 seconds. Off we would go to the edge of town where the Sacramento Airport was located. We did not go there to pick up family or friends we went there to simply sit, sip a soda and watch the passengers exit the various planes from an amazing array of locations near and far. For me, I was there for the stories. My Mom and my Aunt Lucille would choose different passengers meeting their party and make up a complete history for them along with a critique of their apparel, hair and mannerisms. It was hilarious and fascinating at the same time. And it came complete with no small measure of humiliation at times. This was long before 9-11 and so security concerns never entered into any of our thoughts. Up the escalator we went and we wandered freely from gate to gate. International arrivals were the best of course. As the planes came in the people would cluster closer to the doors. My Mom and aunt knew exactly where to sit for the best vantage point. All these years later I wish I would have asked them how they chose those to develop a story with. Was it random, outfits? The conversation would go something like this…”Do you think she actually rides horses or is she just wearing riding crops for kicks?” “Well, I have no idea but she is beautiful, 2nd wife no doubt and would you look at the color of that hair? Miss Clairol must be her best friend. Speaking of Lucille, Payless is having a salon Silk n Silver if you’re interested!” "Would you look at the size of that rock on her finger!" Everyone knew that these two women were talking about them because not only could neither one of them whisper but they twisted their lips in that way that people do when they are gossiping. They might have just as well worn as sign that said “why yes, we do think that dress is too small for your hindquarters!”
Standing at the gate at San Francisco International Airport awaiting a flight that originated from Springfield Missouri had me focusing on keeping my Starbucks down and me remaining upright. I was not distracted even slightly by sourdough bread, See’s chocolates or anyone else standing near me. It was March 21, 1997. I was at the airport with my new sisters and my brother and we were there to greet my parents. It would the first meeting for my brother and. I was 39 years old.
Peggy Cole Ashman
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