Charlie and Rev. Charli

Charles Carpenter Sophomore at Reagan High School 1969

Last week I found out that my very best-est of friends when I was a little girl died. I don't know how he died, or even when he died, but he is gone. The only photos I could find of Charles were from Reagan High School yearbooks, and in my 7th grade Pearce Jr High yearbook.  Yet in my fondest memories I can see him with a huge smile on his face as we played together from pre-school years through grade school..His name is Charles Carpenter. He lived on Pollyanna, just a skip through the field from my house to his back yard. When we both got new bikes we started a tradition of starting at his driveway, because it was sloped, and racing as fast as we could into my driveway. Many of our neighborhood friends got in on the race, which happened at least once a week.

Charles went by the name of "Charlie", and I went by "Charlotte." Charlie began to call me Charli one day, and I said we could not have two Charlie's in the neighborhood, so I would call him Charles. From that time on Charlie was "Charles" (only to me) and I was 'Charli'. He was the only person I have ever let call me "Charli". 

He was the only boy who would play house with me. He was the only real person who I ever preached for. When I was really young I wanted to be a Preacher (growing up Church of Christ we called our Minister "the Preacher", and that is what I wanted to be. When my Mother informed me that I could not be a preacher because I was a girl I changed careers to 'Being a Mom.' That fact didn't stop me though from preaching to my dolls and stuffed animals, usually on Sunday afternoons. I would teach lessons for Sunday School, and then preach from whatever the sermon was on that day. Some days, especially during the summer when we had VBS, I would come home and Charles would come over and I would teach him lessons from VBS. 

He told me that someday girls would be able to preach, and I would make a fine preacher. I loved him even more for thinking that a mere girl could grow up and preach.He also would refer to me on those 'Preaching Days" as Reverend Charli. I have no idea where he heard the word Reverend before, but we would just laugh until our stomachs hurt thinking about me being called Rev. Charli.

I had forgotten all about those days until I heard that Charles was dead. 

Our Play World

Then the stream of memories began to flow and I remembered making mud pies, playing in my sandbox, building a fort in the grove of cedar trees in the vacant lot next to my house and in back of his. He taught me that the little red berries that grew wild in the "Kingdom of Lot" (I know it's pretty corny, but that's what we called it) we edible, and many a day we would add those berries to our sack lunches that my Mom made for us while we were exploring down at Walnut Creek. 

I have such very fond memories of Charles. He was the older brother I never had. One time he found out that another neighborhood boy, the "bully' of our neighborhood, was picking on me. Charles had a long talk with him and that boy never once more bothered me. He also kept a kind watch over me at Pearce Jr. High my 7th grade year (1966-67). I loved watching him play football, he was so very good at it.

The years went on and Charles, being one grade ahead of me he went to Pearce Junior High in 1965 and I followed to Pearce in 1966. He went on to Reagan High school and I found him in the yearbooks for his Freshman year 1968, when he was with the Football B-Team. And also in the 1969 Yearbook, but nothing in 1970 or 1971. 

I don't know if he dropped out of school or what, because Lanier High was built and those of us who did not have older siblings in Reagan had to go to Lanier...so I lost an every day contact with him after that. On occasion we ran into each other, and we would catch up on what was happening in our lives, but once I moved from home, I lost touch with him altogether.

So last week. when I found out that my 'Charles' was gone, and I remembered that he thought that someday I would make a good Rev. Charli. I thought about how when I was first ordained Marty and Sarah called me 'The Reverend Mother', and some even started to call me Rev. Charlotte, yet it just didn't sound right. I could not be called Rev. Charli because in my world Charles was the only one who could call me Charli. Now that he is in heaven I received the nicest of 'pushes' into claiming the name he gave me so many years ago. Rev. Charli has been born. I hope that I live up to his high expectations of me.

Charles Carpenter.....My Charlie......thank you for so many fantastic hours of fun, of joy, of preaching, of teaching...that you shared with me. 

July 14, 1975 My Oldest Daughter is Born

Thirty seven years ago today, I was a pregnant 20 year old with a 3 year old son. When I look at that statement now, it seems so surreal that I was just a girl, although at the time I thought of myself as a woman....I really was so young, so naive, living in a world of fear and extremely low self esteem.

My husband and I were living on Grover Street in Austin. He was in the police academy for Austin PD, and wasn't sure he really wanted another child, as his own childhood had not be idyllic. But in October of 1974 we had a long talk and I explained to him my concerns about Shan growing up an only child, and I didn't want that...since I had been an only child I wanted Shan to have siblings. It is funny now when I think back to that conversation which occurred in our driveway on a beautiful fall evening. He gave me a month to get pregnant, or we would not have another child. I was on a mission from that moment on...to get pregnant.

Since this was the age where we women learned so much about our bodies, how we worked from the inside out...I went to the library for help. And to my 'natural hippie friends' to find out ways of becoming pregnant. (I laugh now, because I should have known that as fertile as I was I would have no trouble getting pregnant really quickly...I had become pregnant with my oldest when I was on the birth control pill) Anyway, with books and my friends advice, I set out on a month of 'I am going to get pregnant!  And I did, whether all the helpful advice really did contribute (such as doing the yoga position headstands immediately after sex) I will never know..all I know is that I got pregnant, and was ecstatically happy.

We gave our parents cards at Christmas announcing that we were expecting, and everyone, including my husband was happy. I loved being pregnant. I didn't have any morning sickness, I felt great and I just really enjoyed being 'with child'. I got books from the library about the developing fetus, and Shan and I would look at them, and he would ask questions and I would find the answers. Again, you need to realize that this was just really the dawning of women actually having access to information about our bodies and the first photos of embryos and fetuses had come out in Life magazine, and then other books were written. It was the age of discovering just who we were as women.

I remember my Mom came over to the house one day, and Shan ran to get the book with the pictures of fetuses, and he said, "Granny, look, this is what the baby looks like inside Mommy's tummy." I thought my Mom was going to faint right there and then. She asked me why in the world was I exposing Shan to such things that were personal and private. She was from a totally different generation where women did not talk about such things, much less show them to their children. 

Anyway, the months went by, and I did the same as I had when I was pregnant with Shan. I sang songs and talked to 'her' all the time. I played music and put the earphones on my belly so she could hear the music. I knew from the first moment that she was a girl, Don't know how, but I just knew. My husband and I picked out names, and only girl names. They had to have the initials KMB, because that was a tradition that my husband wanted carried down. He had the same initials as his own Dad and his grandfather. So we chose Kimberly Michelle Bates. 

I refinished my old crib from when I was a baby, I made curtains, and a bedspread, and we got some really beautiful shag carpeting for the baby's room. Everything matched and was very 'in style' for 1975. She had a Winnie the Pooh theme and I painted quite a few characters from the stories on wood (which was 'in' ). I made a bassinet skirt to match the curtains and all was ready for her entrance into the world.

this was a good car-seat back then! OMG

When I was eight months pregnant, my best friend Mary Jensen (now Hey) held a baby shower for me at her home in South Austin. It was so much fun. I have such fond memories of those days, we were back to nature girls...everything had to be homemade, from bread to baby food!

Mary's friend had made the cake, and it was from seeing it that my desire to become a cake decorator was born.

My husband was in the Police Academy and was going to go somewhere for some firearms/scenarios training out of town. I was more and more afraid as the days grew close to the week he would be gone. It was only 2 weeks before the baby was due, and I was really scared that he would be gone when I went into labor, if I went into labor. My firstborn was born 2 weeks early and my water had broken but I did not go into labor, so they had to give me pitocin to start the contractions. 

When I awoke the morning of July 14  fixed Shan's breakfast and was just not feeling very well. I had been having braxton hicks contractions, although they were not called that back then...just named false labor. I was dilated 2 cm and no one even used the word effaced back then. My doctor said that the baby could come any time now, which added to my fear. When I went to the bathroom I checked myself. Now, this was a new concept to pregnant women in the mid 70's. I was part of the La Leche League, and all of us from our birthing classes had been shown how we could check ourselves to see if we had dilated more. So, it had become a natural response for me to check myself every day. This morning was no different, but this time I felt that there as about a 3 finger width that my cervix was at, and a bulge was coming through. I decided I was going to call the doctor and ask for an appointment. As I started to walk out of the bathroom my water broke. I cannot tell you how I felt at that moment. Frightened because I thought I had caused my water to break by my exam.

I carried that guilt with me until many, many years later when I was doing an OB clinical for my Paramedicine degree. There was a female OB doctor who had to break a woman's bag of water and she allowed me to watch the procedure. I was really stunned at the force and the instrument she used to break it.

Twenty-two years of guilt vanished that night. After talking with the doctor after the procedure, I explained what had happened with me and asked her if I had caused the break in the bag. She assured me that I had not, and that with the way I had described the bulge, it was just ready to break on it's own.

Back, to the 14th of July, 1975 .... My husband was at work, so I called the PD and explained that I was going to the hospital. MY friend Mary drove me to Seton Hospital off of 38th street in Austin. It was the newest and best hospital in Austin at the time. My doctor was just next door at the medical offices, so he was able to come over quite often to see how I was doing. I got all checked in, Mary took Shan home with her, and Ken arrived. I did not start to have contractions, just as in my first birth. So, they started the pitocin and labor began. 

I remember that there was a nurse who was the nurse from hell. She came in and did all the prep work...shaving of the pubic area, gave me an enema, all those wonderful things that were done to us back then. As she was establishing the IV line, she said to me very matter of factly, "This baby is a boy, from the way you are carrying it...it just has to be a boy." and I thought to myself..this woman is really strange. A little later she said, "This baby is not 2 weeks early, it is much too small to be only 2 weeks early. Do you know what can go wrong when a baby is born this early?" I had no idea what she was talking about, and as soon as my doctor got there he ordered a new nurse to be with me. He still stated that the baby was only 2 weeks early, and yes, that it was small,. but some babies are just smaller, and I wasn't to worry about it. We both knew my doctor really well, because my husbands mother worked in his office. We had ultimate faith in his calculations and just put aside the nurses scary comments.

Labor commenced and my husband was very supportive, but he had decided early on that he did not want to be in the delivery room. That was no place for men, he said....until 10:00 pm came around and I was fully mediated and the baby's head was coming through....He decided then that he would go into the delivery room., He had to go wash and gown up, as they wheeled me into the delivery room and got me settled into the stirrups. I thought for sure that my sweet 'girl' baby was going to make her appearance before my husband got there, so I tried as much as I could to not push, to hold her in until he got there. As soon as he arrived and I saw his masked face, I just pushed. In 3 pushes she was out. Kimberly Michelle was born at 10:14 pm, 5 pounds 11 ounces.

She was so beautiful and we both just were amazed and filled with awe and wonder at this beautiful baby GIRL we had created. We both got to hold her and then they took her to the nursery to clean her up. Ken went home and I went to my new 'after birth' room. I had a room mate, and every few hours the nurse would bring her baby to her, for feeding time. But they didn't bring Kimberly to me. I would ask why she wasn't coming, and the nurse just said she was doing fine and that my doctor would come in the morning and that I could see her then. I was totally confused, so I called Ken, and I called my doctor's service, so about 4 in the morning the pediatrician came into the room and explained to me that Kimberly was in an incubator, that she was having a little trouble breathing so they were giving her oxygen. 

When Ken arrived around 8 in the morning, the doctor came back in and explained to us that our baby had hyaline membrane disease. We had no idea what it was. He just said that her lungs were not developed enough, but she was doing great. We got to go to the nursery, scrub up and go in and hold her. It was such a joy to finally get to hold her. I was able to stay in the hospital for 7 days (insurance wasn't so strict back then), and then she was in the hospital for another week, because she developed jaundice. But at the end of that week she came home.

 I remember that for the first couple of months I put her in her bassinet at night and had it right next to the bed. Every little whimper, or if I didn't hear her move, I would lean over to make sure she was all right. I held myself responsible for her early birth, and carried a huge amount of guilt for those 22 years, thinking that she could have died and it would have been my fault. Thank goodness that time have changed where the information internet highway has brought with it the ability to check things out and we can learn the truths of situations instead of living in hidden fear .

I kept very good records of how much she ate, her growth, her weight. I wanted everything for her to be just perfect, and by the time she was about 3 months old, you couldn't even tell she had been born early. She had such rolls on her, she was a chubby kissable baby girl. She was so tiny that she couldn't nurse properly, so I pumped my breasts and with the help of the La Leche League, I was able to nurse her as she got older.

And so began Kimberly's life.....and with it a continuation of my deepest hearts desire...to be a MOM. I loved being a Mom. When everyone else was busy with establishing their careers, I was just so happy being at home with my children, going on play dates, taking them to parks, museums, swimming lessons, etc.

I watch her today.....37 years later, the mother of 4 beautiful children of her own, and I marvel that I was given the gift of having her as a daughter. The life lessons she has taught me along the way (some pretty rocky years) are so valuable, and I am so very proud of her. Thank you God, for the gift of my precious daughter Kimberly.

Kimberly and Logan, born January 12, 2012

An Open letter to Harry

Dearest Harry,

You probably wouldn't have remembered me if you had of made it to the 40 year reunion of our high school graduation, but I  had hoped to see you there and thank you for something you did for me in the Spring of 1971. I even had the good intentions of asking some people if they knew what you had been doing in these past 40 years, yet time slipped by with everyone greeting each other and the flood of memories filled the evening, not leaving room in my mind for seeking you out. Then the reunion was over and I was back home, here in Arizona.

Today I received an email from Diane Beall  that you passed from this life to your eternal one last night.

I have spent today thinking about you and the things I remember about a young teenage guy with a beautiful smile and a heart filled with compassion as he walked the halls of Viking Country.

The reason I remember you so vividly is that one fine spring day you came to the office to see Mr. Shiflet (the Dean of Boys). I was Mr. Shiflet's aide for that hour and asked you to wait for him to get out of Mrs. Brougher's office (the Dean of Girls). It was not very long before we both heard the very loud voices of both Deans and my name was mentioned. The heated discussion, which we could hear very easily was about Mrs. Brougher wanting to kick me out of school right then and there, as she had found out that I was pregnant. She was not nice in her choice of words as she described me and what she thought I deserved for getting pregnant.Mr. Shiflet was telling her in no uncertain terms that she was to keep her words and thoughts to herself, that I was not showing yet, and he was standing in my corner, allowing me to finish out my junior year.

I had never heard Mr. Shiflet raise his voice before, and I must have had a frightened look on my face because you said to me, "Don't let her get to you, ever. That's what she wants, for you to feel ashamed and leave school like a whipped puppy. Seems like you have someone pretty important in your corner, so girl, hold your head up high and don't let anyone tell you that are less than good enough." I think I was pretty much speechless, because I do not remember saying anything back to you. I just remember that Mr. Shiflet opened the door, saw you sitting there and said, "Hi Harry, come on in." The both of you went into his office then and as I hurried to get myself out of Mrs. Brougher's line of sight, she did see me and gave me one of her really scary scowls.

As the weeks went on, every time you and I would pass in the hallways, I would smile at you, and  you back at me, as if we had an unspoken form of communication which gave me so much peace. Those moments in time when our eyes would meet, it was as if you gave me some of your own strength to make it through the day. When I think of those moments now, it was as if God had placed you there at the perfect moment in time, so that you could be my 'angel' of peace in a world where unplanned pregnancies were not acceptable, and being pregnant was anything but peaceful. You showed me that God loved me no matter what.

So, from my heart to yours Harry...thank you for being that compassionate young man 41 years ago. Thank you for encouraging me to hold my head high, to not feel shame, and to know that everything would work out all right.

I believe with all my heart that in the last 41 years you continued to be an angel to many people who needed encouraging words or a smile or a hug to help them on their journey through life. Now, you are standing on the other side of the veil...basking in the glory of Heaven.

 Peace eternal Harry, you will be missed here.

Harry, Diane and Rosie at the 30 year reunion 2002