1. Which of your stories have you probably told the greatest number of times to the most people?
I often gave John a ride to work early in the morning so I could have the car. That meant being on the road by 5 a.m. As we were on our way, I felt a pain I had never felt before: “That was different,” I said to him as we were rolling down toward the light at Punchbowl and Vineyard in the left turn lane. I dropped John off at The Advertiser. Sophie was in the back secured in her baby seat. I had several labor pains driving home, and through each one I huffed and puffed. Sophie, who was sitting behind me, huffed and puffed along as though it were a great game!. The labor was strong enough that I called my in-laws and asked them to meet me at the house so I could hand Sophie off. I then drove myself back to town, experienced several more labor pains on the way to The Advertiser building, where I gave the driving wheel to John. We then went to Kaiser Moanalua during morning rush hour. I gave birth to Charlotte at 9:30 a.m., two hours earlier than had been expected by the experts who checked the dilation of my cervix. No pain killers, the kid felt like a train coming out of me. I was 100 percent there and aware. Phew.
2. What’s a story someone else often tells about you, much to your chagrin?
When I was in kindergarten, Sister Mary Lambert, a Franciscan nun from Hawaii, took me to the front of the class because I was talking out of turn. She had me turn around, lifted up my dress so the entire class could see my yellow-flowered Carters underwear, and whacked me with the paddle. I was mortified. I went back to my table of five other classmates and put my head down for the rest of the day. I couldn’t look at anyone. It was so embarrassing. Thus began my career as a Catholic school girl who was always getting caught and nabbed by nuns who were willing to beat me. Why does anyone need to tell that story besides me?
3. What oft-told story from a chapter in your life seems to be remembered differently by different people who were there?
I could never dive off the 3-meter board at the swim club our family belonged to when I was a kid. One summer I stood up on that board for 45 minutes, petrified. The entire pool emptied and everyone stopped what they were doing, eyes on me. I couldn’t even be willed to drop into the diving well head first. Other versions indicate I was up there for hours; some people say I was crying; some say I was shaking up there. I know I still couldn’t do it.
4. What are some of the details, without retelling the whole story, of a story you’ve told often but never to your parents?
I don’t really have anything like that!
5. What song would be an appropriate soundtrack to the story of your most embarrassing moment?
Bad Company’s Feel Like Making Love. I felt like the kitty trying to get away from Pepe LePew. I knew it was the wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong guy. I got away.
Thanks for participating, and have a happily-ever-after weekend!
Lavagal 