The Return of Glenda Chewning

Not since I left parochial school years ago have I thought about Glenda Chewning, but I conjured her up after some forty years this week. Glenda was a good listener in the group of some sixty or more ‘boomer children’ in my class in the suburbs of D C. Her second grade face is etched in my memory still, as I recall the day she listened to my diatribe on submission to another’s will and the merits of walking home from school alone. Not alone, really as there was a group of four seven-year olds who made the trek three blocks from school to home each day. Even then, I must have valued my independence for I was angry at the intruding Mrs. Strocchio, Jimmy’s mom. She insisted on meeting our group especially on rainy days, and putting us in her car- no seat belts in those days, for a two minute drive home.

“We need to walk home alone, without parents. After all, what would happen in an emergency? Shouldn’t our gang be able to get home in the rain, snow or whatever on our own?” I remember spouting to Glenda. She looked at me and nodded and smiled in agreement. That was three seconds before Mrs. Strocchio, umbrella in hand, opened the car door and ordered our little band of loose-toothed kids into her back seat. Obediently, I followed my friends. And that was how it was those days. Children followed the instructions of adults without question, and those children felt resentful of that fact. (No wonder the youth revolted in the ‘60’s.). Looking out of the car window that day, I saw Glenda’s smile turn into a wider grin as she waited for her own ride. I was angry at myself for not holding my ground against the neighborhood’s most protective mother. Glenda’s smile made me feel foolish and angry at myself for having “given in.”

So was it the massive rains that brought forth Glenda’s memory, or was it my failure to fire the doctor that I’ve never seen? “Go with your gut feelings” and “Don’t be rash,” were the two conflicting voices in my mind recently. “Write him a letter and tell him how you feel about his failure to see you,” my friends advised, and I did. It was a good letter, in fact, I even thought it was of ‘nose hair singeing quality.” “Wait for a response,” my friends and husband advised, and I did. So the office business manager called me to ‘almost apologize’ for the doctor’s inattentiveness (absence actually- seven weeks in a wheel chair and I still haven’t seen or heard from him). “He is very caring,” Laura, the manager exclaimed. “He will definitely see you at your eighth week visit.”

And I succumbed. I agreed to keep my appointment, but I felt the presence of Glenda at my reluctance to seek another doctor. So The Blogmother’s advice is to all is “go with your gut.” You can seek outside advice, but in the end, you always have to do what you feel is best for you, or be prepared to suffer the internal anger that will most certainly follow.