Friends · My Thoughts

Two Loveland Girlfriends Celebrated: After 40 Years!

Sherrie, Larada and Lynn on a Zoom meeting - Loveland
Sherrie, Larada and Lynn on a Zoom meeting

Two Loveland girlfriends continue to be a part of my life forty years later! I continue with my Women’s History Month focus. We meet once a month on Zoom, and yesterday we met and I interviewed them for this blog post! Here they are: Lynn Hafer and Sherrie Crandal!

Lynn and I met in 1979 when my first husband and I moved to Loveland, Colorado. She worked at a real estate office part time and greeted us warmly. She worked full time as a lab tech. Being hospitable, Lynn asked us about any church affiliation. We told her we had already connected with the priest at All Saints, the Episcopal church there. Excited, she said, “That’s where I go!” And from then on, I saw her weekly and our friendship grew.

Later that year, my first husband and I planned a trip to Mexico, and because of her extensive travel experience, Lynn guided us in our first international trip and a second one later—wise suggestions that helped me a lot then and I continue to use to this day.

After my first divorce, Lynn and I became travel partners, venturing to the Mexican Yucatan peninsula several times. From my first sight of Mayan ruins, I was hooked! After our trips to several sites there—Cobá, Chicken Itza, and Tulum, we decided to visit the biggest Mayan ruin in Guatemala in Tikal which was our last international trip!

That trip turned out to be a trip of a lifetime! On the first leg of the trip, we flew into Guatemala City and caught a boat out to Cay Caulker to spend a relaxing week on the island, snorkeling and enjoying the tropical setting. Then we rode the Batty Brothers Bus service from Guatemala City to catch a plane to Tikal. The oversized ruins overwhelmed the jungle and delighted us so.

(This afternoon, I grabbed my photo album of our Guatemala trip and would have shared more photos, but the snow has blocked our StarLink connection and I can’t scan them!)

After each trip, we came home with hilarious stories and experiences, like the time we added an ex-nun and ex-priest who married to our entourage to go see Chicken Itza. At that time, Mexico had a gas shortage, and he tried to help us siphon some gas and sucked on the hose too hard and ingested gas—Ugh!

During our first trip to Mexico, Lynn taught me how to compromise. We ended up at Playa del Carmen when we thought we were going to be in Cancun. Some experienced travelers advised us to rent a car in Cancun and enjoy that side of the peninsula, so we did! I desperately wanted to go Chicken Itza, but we had received some advice from locals not to drive the “short cut” there because of “the banditos,” but we were running out of time. The longer route would take more time. Lynn showed me how to weigh the pros and cons, to be honest about what I wanted and to compromise! I had never experienced anything like that in my young life (I was about 28-30 years old at the time).

On our last trip in 1990, we did a “Tony Hillerman” tour of Arizona and New Mexico, camping out at the Grand Canyon and Canyon de Chelly. What a time we had!

Yesterday, Lynn shared a story about me talking in my sleep on many of our trips, but sited one particular event. I raised up in bed and told her there was someone in the room. She told me no there wasn’t and to go back to sleep—and I did!

Lynn has two sons, and I have been especially close to her youngest, Chris, who joined our conversation yesterday!

Lynn and I stayed connected over the years with her a regular at two of my weddings: to Mike in 1992 and to Lin in 2011 when she was one of my bride maids. In 2011, we introduced Lynn to square dancing at our wedding and she went home and started lessons!

Larada, Lin, Lynn & Mom in Branson - Loveland
Larada, Lin, Lynn & Mom in Branson

When Lynn joined me in Branson, Colorado, it was always a treat and Mom loved her dearly. Over the years, I stopped in at her home in Loveland traveling with my ex-husband and his family, with Mom on a couple of trips and with Lin! Lynn’s hospitality always welcomed me back.

In 1982, I went back to school at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Colorado to become a teacher. I bought a mobile home with two extra bedrooms. My God provided me with the best roommates in Sherrie Crandal and her son, Aaron that year.

We met at All Saints Episcopal church and became fast friends. Not having children, I wondered about taking in a woman with a youngster as a roommate. It turned out to be an amazing blessing.

Christmas 1982, I had strep throat really bad, and we planned to go home to Branson. So, Sherrie drove, and I watched a horrible snowstorm following us down the front range of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. The storm hit after we arrived, so we celebrated a beautiful, white Christmas. Dad thoroughly enjoyed taking them out on the ranch in the snow.

Aaron & Sherrie in Branson for Christmas in 1982 - Loveland
Aaron & Sherrie in Branson for Christmas in 1982

Sherrie remembered all the food Mom had prepared for just us! And I remember Sherrie getting up Christmas Eve morning and making a Christmas Tree Coffee Cake to die for!

She reminded me of a party I hosted with my international friends from the university with no alcohol and what a great time it was!

Sherrie and Aaron stayed with me for about two years, and this living arrangement helped us both financially and emotionally. I was recently divorced and hurting. They were new to Loveland, and being a single mom, she needed the financial help too. Sherrie and Aaron repeatedly filled my home with love and laughter. They went to Branson with me to visit my folks, and we enjoyed dancing at Branson dances. They left Loveland in 1990 for Arizona to live near her mother.

When I married Mike in 1992, Sherrie and Aaron came from Arizona to the wedding in Albuquerque, but we lost contact for almost thirty years. I sent her my yearly Christmas letter and card, but we had no conversations about major life events.

During those absent thirty years, Sherrie got her teaching degree in early childhood development and a masters degree in special education.

Then the pandemic hit! Because Lin and I took the shelter-in-place mandate seriously, we isolated here in our mountain home. The isolation set me to thinking about key people in my life I had lost contact with, and Sherrie came to mind. So, I emailed her about doing a Zoom meeting.

After our first one, which was full of ohs and ahs about our lives, we added Lynn Hafer and the three of us have met monthly since 2020! During each gathering, we updated each other on our lives. We laugh a lot. We share titles of books we’re reading, and we love each other.

I’ve known both of these amazing women for over forty years. Yesterday, when they were sharing stories about our lives together for this blog, we laughed—I grabbed my face and shrieked at some of those memories I had forgotten. Forty years, they have known me and loved me.

Finally, Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you! I hope you celebrated your Irish heritage today, even if you have none! And remember to celebrate all of your friends, especially those who have known you through thick and thin, like my two Loveland girlfriends!


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Enjoy my recent interview on the podcast, The Writing Table


Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir

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My Thoughts · poetry · Travel

Haunted by a Favorite Poem of Mine

Larada at the top of Uxmal, 1991 - Haunted by Coba
Larada at the top of Uxmal, 1991

Thirty-five years ago, I wrote a poem after my memorable adventure in Cobá, Mexico, in the summer of 1985. Laying solemnly unattended in a folder on my computer, it has haunted me over the years. Today, I recalled my surreal experience when I wrote the poem, remembering the physical parts of the Cobá experience, and then the magic I added.

 In 1986, also, I was finishing up my coursework at Colorado State University. We studied magical realism in my Spanish classes, looking at the works of Jorge Luis Borges and Gabriel García Márquez. This genre fascinated me—reality with a dash of magic.

 So, what is magical realism: 

 Magical realism is a genre of literature that depicts the real world as having an undercurrent of magic or fantasy. Magical realism is a part of the realism genre of fiction.

Within a work of magical realism, the world is still grounded in the real world, but fantastical elements are considered normal in this world. Like fairy tales, magical realism novels and short stories blur the line between fantasy and reality.

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/what-is-magical-realism#what-is-magical-realism

For several years, the Mayan culture and the Yucatán peninsula captured my attention, so I visited many Mayan Indian ruins there: Chichen Itza, Uxmal, Tulum, and Cobá. During tours at each ruin, I took copious notes. I bought several books and read about the Mayans, their culture and beliefs and absorbed details.

During our 1985 trip to Cobá, much of it lay overgrown with heavy jungle vegetation. Lynn Hafer, my travel companion and I stayed at a Club Med hotel nearby, but it wasn’t a “Swinging Singles’” Club Med infamous at the time but a research facility with a full library and a quiet, somber setting. Because of its remote location, the Mexican government had not commercialized Cobá yet, so what a raw jungle experience we had!

In 1991 I continued my Mayan treks. To celebrate my completion of my master’s degree, Lynn and I went to Guatemala to one of the largest Mayan Indian ruins, Tikal, a dream come true for this Mayan ruin lover. However, my experience, noted in this poem at Cobá, regularly surfaced and haunted me, so I thought I’d share it with you. In looking at it today, I felt the call to revise!        

                

Cobá—I Was there!!

Written – March, 1986

Revised – July 25, 2021

The year was 1985.

Walking down an overgrown jungle path with my friend,
	toucan birds squeak above my head
                nestled in the canopy.
A turn in the road, thick over-growth blocks the sun 
        for a minute.
		Shadows, sounds, smells--
			transported me back to 900 A.D.
      
A shiver pierces my soul.
I stare at crumbled ruins
        while an iguana lazily poses on a low step,
	       large but approachable.
Colorful in dress, Mayans step out 
        of the past and the bushes,
	       brush my arm.

I strain to see their faces 
        and 
               to hear their voices.
Is it real?

The bees buzz in the tops of the
        Trees among the orchids that
	       Decorate the canopy
		        With their color.
The bees’ hum above
	Joins the voices below.

Where am I?  
When?  
       With whom?
               A step back in time, yet caught between
                        Two worlds—then and now!

Had I been here before?
       At this spot,
       Centuries before,
              Standing at the foot of this Temple, 
                        surrounded by my fellow Mayans, 	    	    	        
              Worshipping the god "Chac" and 	   	    	    	    	
              Listening to the familiar
	    	    	Squeak of birds
                               and the laughter of howling monkeys.
   
The smell of Copal, sweet incense, fills the air
      The mingled 
             Odor of honey and grain,
                       My sacrifice to my god.
A bright fire illumines the scene
      With reflections and smoke.

The drums beat—beat—beat a familiar steady cadence.
      Draw me to them.
The Mayan priests chant—chant—chant soft sounds that join the 	    	    		
      Bass beat of the drums.   
The Mayan language a mystery to me,
      Yet I know it’s deep meaning.
I sway to the beat—the chant.
      It vibrates in my soul calling me forth
              Through the ages,
                      Past time’s illusive barrier!

Dark bronze skins glisten in the firelight.
      Brown eyes search our faces for safety.
             Flat heads surprise me with their symmetry.
I marvel at the feathery headdresses with multiple colorful gowns.	  
      I join the celebration,
             The ceremony!  

Small sturdy people crowd around me, 
      Greet me in a soft rhythmic tongue.
            Gently, friendly—a spark shines in
                     Their eyes with recognition!

THEY KNOW ME!  I'm among my own.  I'm home!!!

But it can’t be!
      I grew up in Colorado
            Not Mexico
	    Not centuries ago
	    Not Mayan

"Did you hear that?  What was that?" my friend grabs
      My arm.


TRANSPORTED
     BACK
            TO REALITY, or is it?  
I'm back—1985.
	    
The summer's heat presses in,
     The sun's scorching heat
           Eerie sounds and hums flow 
                   Through the air.
Eerie, yet familiar.

I strain to hear it better
     To hear the beat of the past
          To see those familiar brown eyes.
	    	    	    	    
I want to return!
     But can I?


Déjà vu? A poem capturing my experience or a fictional treatment? I can’t explain what happened that day so many years ago, but I know it was surreal. My poetry helped me express what I felt, not exactly what I saw. When I wrote the poem, the total experience happened. For years, this poem haunted me with its expression of possibility. I believe there’s unexplainable mystery in this world. Maybe that’s why I am attracted to the genre of magical realism and the chance that I witnessed a Mayan ceremony so many centuries ago.

A mystery happened this afternoon. I planned to use pictures from that 1985 trip to Cobá, but I couldn’t find my photo album. I found pictures from our second trip to Cobá 1986. Historically, I take lots of pictures on any trip—what happened to that album? Another puzzle added here—I wonder?

Have you ever had an unexplainable experience like mine? What happened? How did you honor it and record it? (Scroll below to make a comment)


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