Chrissy and Me--Part One

None of you know Chris, so I think I can tell her story here, without embarrassing her.

Chris, her two sisters, Mom and Dad, moved from Flint out to Byron--just down the road from me, around  1971--thereabouts.  Chris was going into her Freshman year at Byron High School.

Her Mom was kind of like Dar--really, as I look back, she was like Dar!  All nicey, nicey on the outside, but an emotional mess--probably because of her childhood.

Her Mom and I sang in the church choir, so we rode together to choir practice.

One time she wanted Chris to go out and play and Chris was reading a book.  Her Mom put her outside, and (a bit fuzzy here) made Chris go up and sit on the shed roof, than took away the ladder so she couldn't get down.

After many hours, Chris jumped down, broke her ankle, struggled to get to the house and...the door was locked and Mom would not let her in.
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Chris' name was Gay Christina, at the time.  A beautiful name, but in that time period, something to be laughed at.  She was teased, bullied and rejected by most at the school.  She and my kids rode the same bus, and Pam saw her being picked on one day, and  stood up for her and backed the bully down--as Pam was prone to do.

I first time I met Chris, she and her younger sister, Linda, were walking home from school.  Instead of riding the bus around the entire route, they got off at the corner and walked home.  I heard giggling and looked up to see the two girls picking bunches of Lilacs off my Lilac bush, outside my west windows.  They were so happy.  Perhaps, they had no clue that sort of thing wasn't done.  You do not walk on other people's property and you don't pick their flowers.

They were city kids--now in the country with lots of open spaces and my wide yard, was just another open space to them.  If the Lilac bush had of been in a field, they would have picked the flowers.  My yard was right next to a big field.  They were taken with the beautiful flowers and never even realized it was on my yard.

I stood at the big picture window and watched.  They looked up.  Fear came over their faces.  They dropped the Lilac bouquets.  Linda ran home.  Chris came to my back door to apologize.  I told her, "If you had come to the door and asked, I would have cut the flowers for you."
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Chris was not allowed to attend any after school functions.  No football/basketball games.  Nothing like that.  Chris was/is exceptionally smart.  In her Senior year, her Economics teacher told the class that all of her graduating students had to give her a Senior picture or they would not pass her class.  She had all the previous year kids, who had passed her class and graduated, pictures up on her wall.  

Chris didn't think that was right.  She passed the class with flying colors, but her parents either hadn't been able to afford her Senior pictures or she just wasn't going to give the teacher one.  So the teacher failed her!  Can you believe this?  It was in 1975!  (The next year, my son also had trouble with this teacher and quit in the middle of his Senior year and left for CA.)

  Chris took Adult Ed., got her diploma and sent a copy of it to this teacher.  But--she had missed out on graduation ceremonies and all that goes with it.

Over the years, her Mom and I were still singing together in the church choir.  Her Mom had a beautiful Soprano voice.  I was in and out of their home, so I saw Chris from time to time, when she was living with them.
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Fast forward to 1983.

Chris' Mom had a nervous break-down and when her Dad brought Mom home from the hospital, she would not go into the house if Chris was there.  Dad went in and told Chris, she had to leave.  NOW!

A few hours later, my doorbell rang.  

There she stood, looking like a lost, bedraggled, emaciated puppy.  Tear stained face.  She had a couple of black plastic garbage bags and nothing else.

"Mrs. Miller...my parents kicked me out.  Can I stay with you for a couple of days until I can figure out where to go?"