Synchronicities on Friendship and Women

I am currently reading a book called Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. It's about 2 girls who are contracted to become best friends back in the days when women had their feet bound in China. It was given to me by my own "laotong" (old same) lifelong friend, J. ;-)

Last week, I was reading this passage :

• "... a laotong relationship is made by choice. While it's true that Snow Flower and I didn't mean all the words we'd written to each other in the contract through the fan, when we first looked into each other's eyes ... I felt something special pass between us--like a spark to start a fire or a sees to grow rice. But a single spark is not enough to warm a room nor is a single seed enough to grow a fruitful crop. Deep love--true heart-love--must grow. Back then I didn't yet understand the burning kind of love, so instead I thought about the rice paddies I used to see on my daily walks down to the river with my brother when I still had all my milk teeth. Maybe I could make our love grow like a farmer made his crop grow--through hard work, unwavering will, and the blessings of nature. How funny that I can remember that even now! Waaa! I knew so little about life, but I knew enough to think like a farmer.
• So as a girl, I prepared my earth-getting a piece pf paper from Baba or asking Elder Sister for a tiny scrap of her dowry cloth--on which to plant. My seeds were the nu shu characters I composed. Madame Wang (the matchmaker) became my irrigation ditch. When she stopped by to see how my feet were progressing, I gave her my missive--in the form of a letter, a piece of weaving, or an embroidered handkerchief--and she delivered it to Snow Flower.
• Nothing can grow without the sun--the one thing completely outside the farmer's control. I came to believe that Snow Flower filled that role. For me, sunshine came in the form of her answers to my nu shu letter. When I received something from Snow Flower, all of us gathered to decipher the meaning, for she already used words and images that challenged Aunt's knowledge." (p.60)

At the same time I was reading this passage, a song came on Public Radio's Prairie Home Companion. The Flower Duet from the Lakme opera. This song synonymous with friendships between women ... If memory serves me, this song is usually sung as a duet between Lakme and her servant (and friend) Malika ...




It's times like this I know I'm in the right place at the right time, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm so glad I can take time out to notice these synchronicities when they happen. It also makes me wonder how many I miss!

Ma and Pa Meet (Twice)

A little known fact about Carl Jung is that he collected coincidences. He was working on an equation for the theory of relativity, so to speak--synchronicity. Well, I wonder what he'd have to say about my parents?

This is a photograph from the 75th anniversary parade of the town of Antigo, Wisconsin. This is my mom at about 4 years old, sitting in the buggy with her parents pushing her. They were sponsored by the Uptown Cafe, which was owned by Grappa’s sister, Vlasta.

I was 8 years old when Gramma Pickles pulled this photo out. When they showed it to me, I asked, “Where’s Dad?”--not being able to conceive of a time when my parents were not together. The maternal side of my family laughed at this question and replied, “They didn’t know each other then. Oh, how cute!” Then they told Dad that I wanted to know where he was in the picture. He smiled and started looking at the crowd at the top of the photo. And darn it all if he didn’t find himself there standing at the sidelines staring at his future bride. There he was just about in line with the photographer and my mom in the buggy. Dad and his brother Tom were there, along with a headless sister. They were tow-head blonds with crew cuts in those days. On the original photograph, they’re both wearing Indian Head nickel t-shirts, which he remembers quite clearly. [Click on the picture to see a larger version with Frank and Tom circled in the crowd of bystanders.]

Maybe that explains why my parents met and married after knowing each other only 2 months--and No, Ma was NOT pregnant.

Anyway, the next time they met was at the Dixie Diner (used to be the Uptown Cafe) about 14 years later. The same restaurant had changed hands. Ma was a waitress there and Dad came in often for coffee. The electrician Dad was working with at the time knew that Dad was thinking about moving to California, and he wanted to keep Dad around because he was a good little apprentice. So Tony Michelson pointed at Ma and said, “Hey Frank. Ya see that girl over there? She likes you.” That was in November. Ma was supposed to go to the Harvest Ball with a guy who later became a successful optometrist. At the time though, he was going to school in Eau Claire, about 3 hours away. So Dad and this guy sat in a booth at the Dixie during one of Ma’s shifts and discussed who should take her to the dance. Well, they decided Dad would be better because he lived there in town and we all know how hard long-distance relationships are to maintain ... Two months later they got married.

Another example of the strange connection my parents have was when we took a family trip to Norfolk, Virginia, to pick up my brother’s car. He didn’t want it anymore. On the way back, I was riding with Dad, and my sister was in the other car with Ma. We were going to meet at the hotel in Columbus, Ohio, that evening. Ma tends to drive with a lead foot, and Dad tends to go the speed limit. Needless to say, we lost ‘em.

When we got to Columbus, we couldn’t find the hotel, or Ma. Dad had drunk almost a case of Mountain Dew that day. He said it kept him “regular” on long trips. As far as I could tell, the caffeine only added to his agitation. A thunderstorm was coming; It was getting dark; We were low on gas; Ma had the money and credit cards; We were stressed out by the traffic on the Doughnut encircling the city. The atmosphere was anxious in that car.

Finally, we got off on a little country road through some farm fields and found a gas station and used up my $8 contribution on gas. Here we were feeling like we wouldn’t see Ma again until Milwaukee at Aunt Marge’s house.

By now, though the rain had stopped, and the sun was coming out again. So we headed back for Columbus determined to find our Comfort Inn. Well, an hour later, we stopped to see if we could call the hotel and get directions, or if Ma had found the place. Dad asked the counter clerk if his wife had checked in yet. The clerk of course asked him to spell it and as Dad did, the clerk said, ”Matucheski? One moment please.” And a second later, Ma got on the phone. She was at the check-in counter at the precise moment Dad had decided to call! Dad was mad and crabby, but still greatly relieved to hear Ma’s voice.

Coincidence? I think not! I think these two have some kind of psychic connection, or knew each other in lives past.

Nearly 39 years later, they’re still each other’s best friend and contentedly married. It’s a tough act to follow in this day and age. For a long time I didn’t know how I’d manage to meet anyone and know that they were the ONE I’d be with the rest of my life--and after only 2 months!

[This story was originally written for a Storytelling Class in 1997. It still holds up pretty well!]