Guest-blogging: Show and Tell

You know how it's really fun to meet someone's family?

Like, if you meet someone's father or sister it gives you context that allows you to see that person differently, sort of in 3-D, instead of just in the time or place or plane you have known them. I had this roommate who I lived with for over a year when her old friend came to visit and talked about when she used to be blonde. Blonde! She was such a red-head. I had only known her as a read-head. She practically had a red-head soul. It didn't seem possible that she had been running around leading a blonde life I just couldn't picture. There's a tell-me-a secret satisfaction in getting to hear about a friend through someone else's stories.

When Angie agreed to let me guest-blog for a couple days, I thought about many people from different times and places in Angie's life who come together here to take in her wisdom and refreshing take on life. I thought it might be interesting to get to know our author through the eyes of people who have known her for a few weeks or since she was in kindergarten. It's kind of like getting to listen-in on her oldest and newest friends, or staying up late at a sleepover party telling stories. "Remember the time you..."

Besides, it is good sometimes to be reminded of the impressions and impact we have on other people, even when our own personal power seems small.

Here are some impressions, memories, moments of one of my favorite people.

Name: Lane Anderson
Has known Angie for: 9 years
Met her: In Provo, Utah

I remember the first thing that struck me about Angie was her long hair, which fell just like the hair in shampoo commercials. She was always warning people not to get their hair "slithered." Apparently, this was a bad cutting technique that had been used at one time on her beautiful hair.

I remember one time while I was breaking up with a boyfriend over the phone, Angie slipped a Reese's peanut butter cup under my door.

I remember Angie does a dance combination that starts with her back to the audience and one knee popped, with some increasingly frenetic jazz-hand moves, culminating in a sudden turn toward the audience into some mean jazz-squares.

I remember "Sales Talk Angela." Angie had a real job, not like the rest of our crap college jobs, and hers required her own phone line and a fax machine (fax machine!) installed in our basement. I remember when she answered that phone she was all-business.

I remember after college when "Sales Talk Angela" used her professionalism to get us out of trouble with cops who caught us toilet-papering. This was despite the fact she was driving a 10-passenger van full of people wearing black clothes and various costume wigs.

I remember Angie is competitive but never mean, which makes her fun at games or playing tricks on people.

I remember Angie didn't like the same girl I didn't like once. I remember liking that even though she seemed perfect, she was capable of not liking some people.

I remember when I had nightmares I would go downstairs and sleep in Angie's room on the extra bed. She didn't care, even if I woke her up.

I remember I moved to California and fell in love with it and stayed there, all because one summer Angie insisted I come live with her family.

I remember meeting Angie's mom and picturing her as the sun of wisdom that radiated onto Angie's planet. I remember knowing I would never absorb it myself, their wisdom was the kind of gift that's passed-down or pre-destined, like clairvoyance.

I remember Angie's mom and dad dancing in the living room together after dinner, and hoping desperately that someday I would be in love like that.

I remember Angie often saying, "But how are you doing? How is Lane doing?"; trying to get a real response. She has no use for superficial chatter.

I remember Angie always knows the correct response to a tearful or tender moment. She seems to think not in what she should say, but what she should do--put an arm around, cry with you, laugh with you--her gift is in the small, intimate gestures that allow people to feel.

I remember Angie applying SPF 45 sunblock and later asking, "Did I get a tan?" She didn't. We teased her and called her SPF 45 "tan enhancer." I remember the last time I saw Angie her skin still looked as young as it did nine years ago.

I remember Angie is afraid of animals.

I remember staying with Angie in New York when I was thinking about going to grad school there and I was so scared to move. I remember eating peanut butter spread and apples. I remember watching a movie with her while James napped. I remember finding MarieBelle together. I remember I thought I could live in the city if Angie was there.

I remember Angie loved Zora Neale Hurston so much that she resented other people who said they loved her, but didn't really seem to get her.

I remember thinking my children would be better off if Angie raised them, and I don't even have any children.

I remember the first time I felt really, really rip-my hair-out, turn-off-the-lights-and-wait-to-die desperate and confused, the first person I thought to call, after my mom, was Angie.

I remember Angie had a green fabric-covered headband with little frog-eyes that stuck out on top of it. It looked like part of a frog costume, but she wore it around the house and while she was getting ready for bed. I made fun of it, but it was really comfortable, and after a while I started wearing it, too. Sometimes I would forget and leave the house wearing it and people at the bank or drive-up or wherever would smile like I was playing a joke on them, and then I would remember the frog eyes.

I remember Angie gave me the frog eyes to keep. They are sitting in my bathroom right now. Just last week I was in a bad mood about something, and my husband put them on to cheer me up. It worked.


Do you have an "I remember" about Angie? Email me at laneanderson@gmail.com