The Coonridge Digest: Showing our true colors

Greetings from the Ridge.

I keep saying it wrong. I well remember my high school biology teacher telling us that when the fall weather hits the leaves lose their chlorophyll, photosynthesis comes to a halt, and the leaves’ natural colors then become evident. Still, I persist in saying things like, "The leaves are taking on such beautiful color," even though the color was there all along.

Tough weather hits and their true colors shine through.

I had just finished a two-day conference in Chicago. A lady whom I thought must surely be as close to God as anyone I’d ever met conducted the workshop. For two long days she was loving, she was smiling, she was understanding… and tireless. She’d meet us each day at breakfast, she coaxed and encouraged us for two straight days, and absolutely nothing flustered the gal. The program booklet called her our "facilitator." I referred to her as "Saint Gwen."

I remember very little of what I learned in that two-day jaunt, but I shall never forget the specter of this lady whom nothing perturbed and who simply made you feel goose-bump wonderful whenever you were in her presence.

At the close of the conference I went to call a taxi to take me to O’Hare. Saint Gwen heard me ask the hotel clerk for the number and said, "Oh Freida, forget the taxi! I have a car rented and I’m going to the airport. Hop in!"

Gee whiz! A chance to spend another 90 minutes with this Angel of Estrogen. I threw my bags into her back seat and we were soon pulling out into the Chicago traffic.

Robert Lewis Stephenson wrote The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde over 100 years ago. Mr. Stephenson could not possibly have known Saint Gwen, but she was certainly the model for his novel of a mild-mannered person who turns into a raging monster. Once Gwen slipped into the five lanes of high-speed commuter traffic a transformation took place in her character that I would never have imagined and which shot one more hero out of my personal constellation of superwomen.

I’ve never heard a sailor cuss, but Gwen would have sunk even the sturdiest ship of decorum and her gestures were straight out of a barroom. I sat in the passenger seat and just wilted, not so much from the stream of hot blue profanities, but from the steam being let out of my admiration.

When the weather gets rough, the true colors do indeed come through.

A friend of mine home-schools her children. She told me, "No, we don’t get the vaccinations the government tries to cram down our throats." I didn’t tell her that vaccinations are seldom swallowed as she went on to claim that her kids are perfectly healthy without "the socialist medical programs trying to inoculate kids against everything." Then in the same conversation she complained about how much medicine she took to relieve her back pain. I’d have offered to scratch her back a little but I was afraid that when she bent over her true colors would be showing.

In the coming weeks our representatives in Washington will be voting for or against a health insurance program. Talk as much as they like, one lobby group or another funds most of them. Like the summer sunshine that causes the chlorophyll to hide the leaves’ true colors, too much light shed on the Congressional motives will turn their motivations a shade of money green.

But who wants to talk politics when the trees are parading a kaleidoscope of glory all around us? Who wants to grouse about hypocrites when we’re surrounded by a gentle forest of folks whose true colors only make them glow more spectacularly?

Pink has become a power color as this season it’s exploded onto businessmen’s shirts, ball team uniforms, entire school populations and construction workers’ hats as what seems like an entire nation has joined in the fight against breast cancer. Showing our true colors.

Yellow stripes are very much in fashion when you hear the fire siren at two a.m. and look out the window to see your fire department – volunteer or otherwise – take off through the rain for a single purpose… to help someone in need. True colors.

Volunteers come in many colors and the national statistics tell us that although the economic crisis and loss of jobs has caused many of us to cut back on our monetary donations, the actual amount of volunteer hours is approaching an all-time high. A local hospital volunteer coordinator recently told me that she’s looking for places to put people. True colors.

We are – most of us – getting used to the fact that our White House, our Supreme Court, and every position of authority in our nation is being well served by our fellow Americans of various colors. It’s been perhaps the greatest psychological struggle in our still-young nation’s history, but you know what? We’re getting there. We really are. Many colors — all of them true.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.