ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time, long ago, we joined a church on Hilton Head.  Shortly after, I was asked to chair the Women’s Group and The Mister was asked to head up Stewardship.  We were both a little overwhelmed about taking on those hefty tasks but we wanted to participate and be involved.

At my first Women’s Group meeting, I asked a good friend, who had also moved here from Dayton, if she would speak to the group about NAMI, The National Association of Mental Illness. She was available and was, as always, articulate and informative. 

After her talk, I was told that the group didn’t like the speaker or her subject.  They wanted to keep the programs light.  Upbeat.  Sunny.  Rosy. We’re sure you understand, they said.

I didn’t understand.  At all. And never will. The fact is most of us, at some point or another, will bump up against mental illness.  Either in our own families or our friends’ families.  We can’t just turn our backs and plead ingnorance when that happens.  NAMI is wonderful source of information and information, after all, is power.

I correctly assumed that I would not be staying on as chairperson..  But as I was leaving, I overheard two women, standing nearby. They were deep in conversation. Because I remember their conversation so well, and think of it so often, I’ll share. Here it is, word for word, in its entirety because you simply can’t make stuff like this up. 

First Woman: “Do you have a list of names for the Women’s Group?

Second Woman: “Yes, I do.”

First Woman: “Would you fax that list to me?”

Second Woman:  I would but I don’t have a fax machine.”

First Woman: “Neither do I.”

I rest my case.