Post #77 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
WELCOME TO WOMEN’S MEMOIRS CONTEST VALENTINE’S DAY READATHON
This is the eighth Valentine’s Day Memoir Contest story to be published in our first-ever ReadAThon. In this blog, we’re announcing the Grand Winner for our third category — Best Valentine’s Day. Each hour, for 11 hours, we are publishing an award-winning Valentine’s Day story.
We have four categories–
Worst Valentine’s Day
Worst Valentine’s Day Eventually Becoming Positive (Might Take Many Years)
Best Valentine’s Day
Most Humorous Valentine’s Day (In Retrospect, If Not at the Time)
and are publishing the award winners in that sequence. For each category, we publish the grand winner followed by the runner(s) up in alphabetical order.
Best Valentine’s Day: Grand Winner
TRUE BLUE
Whoever decided that crime never pays didn’t entirely think through that statement. I know because I hit the jackpot when someone decided to steal and dump a car.
My favorite Valentine’s Day started just like any other, in a line of blue. Police departments and criminals typically aren’t very concerned about romance. Holidays to them, Hallmark or otherwise, are just like every other day. There are 9-1-1 calls that need to be answered by people like me and there are people who need assistance or arresting from cops like my sweetie.
We had been dating just over six months. He was someone I had first met on a school bus many years earlier. It was never romantic back then and high school graduation parted our lives until that one evening when a crime reunited us. I was doing a tour as a Community Service Officer and stumbled upon a stolen and abandoned auto. As a civilian and unable to write a felony report, I radioed our dispatch center to send an officer. Perhaps I was hypnotized by the alternating lights on his squad car, but when he responded, I fell faster than a bad guy staring at all those guns on a felony stop.
When the February schedule was posted in late January, we both glanced at the 14th. He was off and I was on. Around Christmastime, I had been promoted to a police dispatch position. The department can operate without a Community Service Officer, but the dispatch center definitely needed at least the minimum assigned man (or woman) power. I tried desperately to get someone to switch shifts with me, but between the “Are you crazy? It’s Valentine’s Day!” looks and comments from my fellow dispatchers, I surrendered myself to having to work. I took my place in that 3 to 11 shift roll call line hoping that no one would notice the celebratory red socks I was defiantly wearing with my uniform.
He had called early in the shift to tell me how much he missed not being able to celebrate with me. I was missing him, too. Days like Valentine’s sometimes bring out the worst in people and only a few hours into the shift, I was growing weary of answering domestic situation calls. What was wrong with these people? Obviously, they liked each other enough at one point to hook up, right? What happened? My crabbiness was further exasperated when my supervisor sent me to the locker room to change my red socks. It seemed everyone’s sense of romance had truly vanished.
My co-workers and I ordered the standard dispatcher dinner and waited for the pizza delivery. The back bell rang more quickly than expected and I jumped up to open the door. To my surprise, there stood one of the co-workers who, just a few days earlier, refused switch shifts with me. He was holding an extraordinarily large bouquet of balloons that had drooped to his knees in the freezing air. They inflated as soon as he walked in and so did my mood as he informed me that he had a change of heart and was there to work the rest of my shift.
I couldn’t believe it! I hugged him and wasted no time running to my car dragging a trail of once again droopy balloons behind me. I was free and off to see my sweetie. But where? In the pre-cell phone era, it was much easier to lose track of people and I hadn’t asked his exact itinerary for the evening. He didn’t even know I had been released. Or did he? I was so excited to get out of there that it didn’t even dawn on me until later that evening that my co-worker wouldn’t have just decided to work my shift after all, nor would be purchase such an elaborate balloon piece. It was all part of the plot, right along with being scheduled to work and all of my co-workers refusing to switch shifts with me. I’d been duped.
The tiny foyer into my apartment was dark, but I noticed the sweet vanilla scent of my favorite candles filling the room and the sounds of Frank Sinatra through the stereo. My eyes quickly adjusted to the candlelight and on the couch I saw a black dress with a gold sequined neckline that I had spotted in a catalog several weeks earlier along with a pair of glittery pumps that had caught my eye at the mall. I let the balloons fly to the ceiling when I saw my sweetie in the corner. He was dressed in a dark suit, on one knee and displaying a diamond that twinkled in the candlelight. I think I said yes before he asked.
Twenty Valentine’s Days later, I can close my eyes and still smell the candles and feel his warm touch as we danced that night to the pianist’s rendition of “Let Me Call You Sweetheart”. I still hear his voice telling me my eyes were shining more than the sequins on that beautiful dress that still hangs in my closet. That night, the night of my favorite Valentine’s Day ever, over savory Chicken Vesuvio and sweet gin and tonics, we dreamed the rest of our lives.
Four children and “life happenings” haven’t allowed us all of the plans we dreamed that night, but, just like the balloons, through ups and downs, his warmth has always lifted me and his embrace has been a better fit than that dress. While the presents were nice, the true gift I received that night was the promise of a lifetime with him.
I don’t wear a blue uniform to work any longer, but every February 14th, you’ll still find red socks on my feet and Chicken Vesuvio on our dinner plates. Every year, I listen to Ol’ Blue eyes as I gaze into my favorite pair of blue eyes and secretly whisper thanks to the still unknown offender that decided to steal and dump that car that day. I owe him one.
Recipe:
Italian Village Chicken Vesuvio
Recipe courtesy Italian Village Restaurants, Chicago
Prep Time:
15 min
Cook Time:
40 min
Serves:
4 servings
Ingredients
• 1 fryer chicken, about 2 to 3 pounds, cut into 8 pieces (2 wings, 2 breasts, 2 legs, 2 thighs)
• 2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 2 cups canola oil, for frying
• 3 large Idaho or russet potatoes, peeled and cut into thick wedges
• 2 clove garlic, peeled and mashed
• 1 tablespoon dried oregano
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 2 tablespoons chopped parsley leaves
Directions
Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Clean chicken, rinse with cold water and pat dry. Season with salt and pepper. Heat 1/3-cup olive oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. When oil is hot, carefully place chicken in pan using tongs. Breasts and thighs first, then the rest. Brown well on all sides, remove chicken from pan. Pour off all but a few tablespoons of oil. Return chicken to skillet and place uncovered in preheated oven for 25 minutes, turning chicken once or twice.
Heat 2 cups of canola oil to 350 degrees F.
While chicken is cooking have potatoes peeled, wedged, rinsed and dry. Carefully add wedges into hot oil, about 4 at a time. Avoid crowding. Fry potatoes until golden and remove and let drain on paper towel and reserve for later.
For the last 5 minutes of cooking for the chicken, add the cooked potatoes, garlic, oregano and wine to skillet, return to oven.
Remove skillet from oven to stove top after the 5 minutes, add parsley and gently turn with a spoon.
Remove chicken to a large platter, arrange potatoes atop the chicken and pour the pan juices over all.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
You can follow Jessica’s blog at: http://jessicasieghart.com
