Just Call Me Margaret

Growing up, I was taught these rules. Anybody older than you should always be addressed with a title - Mr. So and So or Mrs. So and So.  Relatives were always Aunt or Uncle So and So or Cuden So and So.  Close friends were sometimes also called Aunt or Uncle too.  And then neighbors or kinda close friends were Mr. or Miss and their first name.  Our neighbors the Drakes were Miss Eugenia and Mr. Jim instead of Mr Drake and Mrs. Drake.  I can think of only one exception - Frances and Barney, adult friends let us, in fact told us to call them by their first names. Oh, was I impressed.  Otherwise, the rules held.

When I was 31 years of age, I had finally finished college and gotten a job teaching 1st grade.  The first day of school began with just the teachers there so they could prepare for the students who would be coming the next day.  I was excited and more than a little anxious about getting my room ready and being prepared for a roomful of 6 year olds.  Across the hall from me was Miss Margaret Spingler.  She was a second grade teacher and had been at this school many years.  In fact, she was just a year away from retirement. 

During the course of the day I went across the hall to ask a question and began with, "Miss Spingler".  She interrupted and said, "Just call me Margaret".  I stuttered and stammered and said, "Oh no, I couldn't do that".  And Miss Spingler said in her most no-nonsense teacher voice that that was her name and that's what she wished to be called.  Well, I said, "Yes" and after a few false tries it was Margaret.

Margaret is a spinster lady and at that time she hurried home each day after school to take care of her 92 year old mother who lived with her.  Having Margaret across the hall certainly was my good fortune.  She proved to be a guide, and role model.  Margaret retired but continued to stay in touch with all her school friends.  

Margaret's heritage is Irish and she wished all the world to know it and enjoy it with her.  Each St. Patrick's Day she had an Open House and everybody was invited - school friends, family, church friends, and other friends she had collected over the years.  So our friend and fellow teacher, Pam  and I would go over the day before and help make everything green - hang green curtains, add food coloring to the punch, make green sandwiches, get out all the Irish memorabilia from upstairs and make sure the way was cleared for everybody and food that would be coming the next day.

Once, I told my first grade class about the St. Patrick's Day party that I had attended.  I told them that everything that we ate and drank was green.  When we began to put on our coats and get ready for dismissal.  Joey quietly came up to me tugged on my sweater. 

Oh, do you know how to tell a 1st grade teacher?  They have callouses on their hips where little hands pat all day saying Miss Summerlin, Miss Summerlin. 

So Joey then asked, "You know that party - Yes, Joey - Well, when you went to the bathroom was it green"?  Luckily for me the dismissal announcement was made. 

As time went by, the Open House was just too big an undertaking.  But Margaret could not let March 17th pass by without her doing something to acknowledge it.  So every St. Patrick's day I get an Irish verse or prayer in the mail and it is addressed to Mary O'Summerlin from Margaret O'Spingler.  And I feel touched by a bit of the Irish and I cherish it dearly.

This chain of events has made Margaret a part of my life and it will always be so since she taught me a skill I still enjoy.  Many years ago Margaret taught Pam and me how to crochet afghans.  Neither Pam or myself had any knowledge of how to crochet.  Margaret did not know what she was getting into!  With infinite patience, she taught us the pattern she had used for many years.  Pam and I listened, watched and practiced and were sure we knew what we were doing.  Then we would go home and try to work and we would create a big mess.  So, we'd call Margaret, go over and she would straighten us out.  This happened many times. 

Finally, I mastered the pattern and since that time I have made at least 20 afghans.  I always have one in progress by my easy chair and anytime I sit down I work for awhile.  I tell people that for a year the afghan is my therapy and then it is a present for a loved one.  You can't beat that arrangement.

Thank you, Margaret, my friend and I can't think of ever calling you anything else!