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#90125 12/21/02 09:30 PM
Joined: Nov 2002
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journeyman
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A Christmas Story


I was standing in the foyer in my department at about 4:30 this past Wednesday afternoon talking with a colleague. We had just put up the department Christmas tree, an annual challenge requiring the skills of a symphony conductor to coordinate the stringing of secondhand lights and garland, the placing of the miscellaneous ornaments we have collected over the years, and the crowning of the new tree topper, a photocopy of our rookie fearless leader. As the coaches, athletes and staff walked through the halls, they were besieged to assist in at least some minimal way. We had just finished plugging in the lights and the crowd had dwindled down to just to my chief fundraiser and me.

I saw an older lady with a baby in the breezeway just outside our foyer. She came to the glass door, but the carriage looked rather large and unwieldy for her, and so I opened the door for her and she came right in, stroller, baby and all. She thanked me and went straight up to my colleague and began earnestly talking to him. She had a thick foreign accent, and I could not imagine what she was saying to him. We offer many educational/athletic programs for the public of all ages, so it's not unusual to have adults, elders and infants around.

I stood there for awhile beside them, observing the conversation. I realized the woman had some problem or issue, so I moved around next to my colleague and asked her if she needed some help. She immediately turned to me and said that she needed to find her daughter, the baby's mother, that she had gotten lost on campus and could not find her way back. "No problem," I said, and I told my colleague I could handle this myself. I took her into my office, baby, stroller and all.

Grandma was quite distressed. The baby was adorable, and sleeping quite peacefully his back. I asked gramma what building she had been in so I could locate it for her on a map and send them safely on their way, but she shook her head and said that was the problem; she didn't know what building they had been at. She told me that her daughter-in-law has a doctorate in Psychology and was interviewing for a position at the university and that her job (gramma) was to keep the baby during the interview. But the baby got fussy, so gramma took a little walk pushing him in the stroller, and before she knew it she was far, far away from her daughter's location with no sense of how to get back.

I assured her she was safe, and that we would stay with her till we found her daughter, that there was no need to worry. I asked for her daughter's name and she said, through a thick accent, "Thalia Unger-obestwich", or something like that. I gave her a piece of paper and asked her to write that down, but she shook her head and insisted, "No. No. I am not from this country. Thalia Unger-obestwich, Thalia Unger-obestwich". Oh dear. This was going to be a bit more of a challenge than I thought. Gramma said, "I am from Israel. I just got here a couple of days ago to meet my new grandson. I am not from this country. I don't know anything." I asked her again what job her daughter was interviewing for, and she said again, psychology. I inquired further whether it was academic, as a professor, and she shook her head, "Yes. yes." I asked this as we have two different psychology departments in two different schools, and a Counseling Center as well. By this point it was 4:45 on the Wednesday of finals week, and I knew that most offices, if open at all, would be closed soon, and dark was beginning to set in. The one thing I knew was that all three of these departments were quite far away from the athletic department and that gramma was very lost having traveled a long way up the ring road, crossing parking lots and over at least one pedestrian bridge. What had she been thinking? I guess in her distress at being a foreigner she hesitated to ask anyone for help till she ran into a dead end at our place.

OK. Get to the phones. We have 15 minutes tops. I ordered the director's trusty assistant, Cheryl, to begin calling anywhere, everywhere. Without my glasses I called the Psych department in Social Sciences. I just dialed the first number listed and a very authoritarian woman's voice answered. I realized I had called the Dean's direct line. I apologized profusely, but shared my dilemma. She laughed and said that she never normally picked up her line, but she was waiting to hear from her own child who was home from college for the holidays. She told me that her department was not hiring, but gave me a name to call in Social Ecology, the other academic unit with a psych program. I called the number, but as I feared no one answered. The whole campus becomes a ghost town at this time of year. I asked gramma if her daughter had a cell phone, but she said no. Then she said, "Call my son. He lives about a half an hour's drive from here." So , I asked if she knew which town, but alas, no. Then I asked what his last name was, and she really couldn't tell me. By this point she was so upset that she had trouble focusing on anything, even the most simple issues. I couldn't figure out what that hyphenated last name was, so I tried Unger and Bestowhich, and everything I could think of, yet I found no listings for Orange County. Then it sunk in to me that gramma was alone in a foreign country, having little command of the English language, responsible for a new baby, but possessing no idea how our culture operates, who might help them, or who might not be trustworthy. No wonder she had gotten herself so disoriented. What were her children thinking to let her out on her own without their business cards or home address and phone number? How frightening this must all have been for her....

I told Cheryl to call the police, as I knew that the mother of this baby would be distraught, and surely, eventually somehow would get to the campus police to report the two of them missing. The police had not heard from anyone at that point, but I asked them to come and get gramma. Perhaps if they drove her around campus she would recognize something, a building or the lot where they parked the car. A 911 call came on while we were strategizing with the dispatcher, then they said the would send a patrol officer over as soon as they could. At this point Gramma was losing it. The baby was still sleeping angelically, but gramma knew that the mother would be furious with her. I tried to be reassuring, they were completely safe, and it would all be resolved shortly with no harm done, but she was beside herself. She told me the baby was just two weeks old and was breast feeding, and that he was overdue for his feeding. I looked at the baby again, and he was sleeping in that peaceful, completely self-absorbed way that only an unencumbered, brand new mind could possibly allow. "The baby is absolutely fine," I reassured her. "Don't worry. Everything will be just fine. We're not leaving you till we find your daughter."

Then I heard Cheryl on the phone talking with someone's saying something to the effect of, "Oh, she left a half hour ago?" It seems that the daughter had an interview, not for an academic position, as the gramma had said, but in the Counseling Center. Cheryl had figured this out by calling Human Resources and asking what job openings were available on campus related in any way to psychology. I got on the line with the woman at the Counseling Center and told her to make sure everyone there knew that the gramma and her baby could now be contacted by the campus police, who, with their dispatcher and patrol officers, were in a far better position than us to coordinate this effort.

At the same time a young, asian male officer arrived to assist us. When he saw the stroller he realized that he didn't have a car seat and he couldn't legally transport the gramma and baby. I told him that he had to do something. By now it was 5:30 and we were closing up. I had to pick up my child from soccer practice, and I could not be responsible for this situation any longer. The officer was very young and didn't know what to do. He got on his radio and consulted with the dispatcher. I told him I would put them in my car and drive them over to the counseling center myself, and he could follow. Surely the mother would go back there looking for them. He said, "NO. No, ma'am. I can't authorize that!" I said, "I'm not asking you to authorize anything. I'm telling you what I am going to do!" I thought he was going to faint.

Just then, over the radio the dispatcher brought news that the mother was calling in on another line. It seems that the Director of the Counseling Center, upon hearing of the situation, rushed out to the parking lot where they had provided the candidate a pass to park, and found her distraught in the lot beside her car. The officer left us to go fetch the mother and bring her back. No sooner had that happened then the baby awoke and started crying inconsolably. While the gramma was thrilled that her daughter-in-law had been located, she was extremely upset that the baby was crying and feared that her daughter-in-law would be furious with her upon her arrival. I assured her that everything was fine, and that there was no need to worry. Babies cry, there's no avoiding that. Gramma told me that she was a physician in Israel, and that she had raised five children of her own, and with this little one now had five blessed grandchildren. She had come to celebrate this baby boy's first Hannukah. She began to sing Hebrew lullabies to calm the baby. While they had no effect on him, they were beautiful, lamenting and somewhat haunting, the low, sweet songs of a people in diaspora, a people who have suffered much over thousands of years but yet they thrive, not just merely survive. I sat on our foyer sofa and just basked in the soft, sweet sounds of those lullabies, with our silly Christmas tree in the background and the dark comfort of night outside.

Then the squad car pulled up, and a rather frumpy young woman, looking like something out of 'fiddler on the roof', I kid you not, came flying up the stairs like a bat out of hell. She wore a white, blouson, cotton peasant type shirt and a dull dirndl skirt that hit mid calf, with rather sturdy, black shoes... hardly a stylish interview outfit. I rushed out to slow her down and assured her that the baby was fine, and had only just started crying. She pushed me out of the way like a mama lion rescuing her lost cub, and I beseeched her to be gentle to her mother-in-law, who was completely distraught from the whole ordeal. I guess it made no impact, as she ripped into Bubbula, and let her have it. Poor Bubbula. No wonder she had fretted so. She knew what was coming from this woman who had married her son. The mother lunged at the baby, and before any of us could do a thing, she whipped out her engorged right breast and began feeing the baby in the middle of our foyer. I just reached into the carriage and grabbed a soft baby blanket and gently placed it over the baby and breast!

What a scene. By now it was 6:15 and I had to head out to pick up my own progeny. When I eventually left the department a short while after closing up and gathering my things, mother, gramma and baby were still on the sofa in the foyer, smiling and resting contentedly, finally confident that all were united again, safe and sound. And it wasn't till just this morning that it dawned on me that we had reenacted our own little version of the Christmas story, the story of the foreigners wandering with the little jewish baby boy, frightened and tired and hungry and eventually forced to submit to the kindness of complete strangers for their safety. And I guess that's what the season is all about.....

peace on earth and good will to wo/men....

the gifts of the magi.....magi era.....

Magimaria




#90126 12/22/02 05:04 PM
Joined: Mar 2000
Posts: 11,613
Carpal Tunnel
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Oh! Tears to the eyes, for sure. I'll bet that gramdmother came all the way over especially for the birth. May everyone learn a lesson from that little episode; most especially the mother, in compassion, though it may take a few years. God bless them.


#90127 12/23/02 04:57 PM
Joined: Aug 2000
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Pooh-Bah
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My, oh my! What a saga, Magimaria! But you're right - it is a living parable, in its own way. Something for us all to ponder on, not only at this time of the year.

Peace on earth and goodwill to all of us, indeed, indeed.




#90128 12/27/05 06:21 PM
Joined: Mar 2001
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Your story, madame.

In case it didn't come up, a christmas story

#90129 12/28/05 01:22 PM
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enthusiast
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Thanks for sharing this again.

#90130 12/28/05 04:03 PM
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journeyman
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Thank you Inselpeter! I did not mean to post it again, only to retrieve it as I had lost my files of it and all other hard copies. It was such a sweet encounter, and really made me remember that all we ever really have is one another.

Nice to be back in your world!

magimaria

#90131 12/28/05 06:00 PM
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Carpal Tunnel
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Lovely to have you back too, mama ~ stick around, post some more!


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