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Stafford: Coffee with friend brings memories

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By Tom Stafford, Staff Writer Updated 10:46 AM Sunday, March 21, 2010

There may be better things to do on a gray late winter morning than have coffee with an old friend. But as I pulled up to Mildred Thomas’ curb, none came to mind.

Running 40 minutes late, I had called and was concerned that she hadn’t answered. So I was relieved to see her smiling behind the square panes of glass with a phone on her ear.

When her conversation ended, she headed off an impromptu tumbling demonstration by warning me about the single step down into her living room, then disappeared to get the silver coffee pot.

Just as she had graciously placed sliced banana bread and cream and sugar on a silver tray, she generously offered excuses for my inexcusably tardiness: Breaking news, a busy schedule, etc.

I cleared my conscience by confessing simple forgetfulness, and we talked.

The cashews in her banana bread led to talk of nut allergies. The music on her stereo led us to my interest in music and her recollection of which of her three sons practiced for his trumpet lessons.

I admitted that before meeting her, the Daughters of the American Revolution had seemed a dowdy, old-fashioned group; and she confessed that as a young woman, the organization that has given her so many dear friends had seemed much the same.

She talked about the excitement in the eyes of the children who won this year’s DAR History Day awards; of how thrilled one was to learn he’d also won at science fair that day; and how another, discovering he’d left the final page of his essay at his table, paused, retrieved it, then picked up his address where he had left off without batting an eye.

We agreed it’s interesting to see what becomes of the quirky kids your own kids run around with — what a pleasure it is to see them find their own special niches.

We shared, too, our concern for childhood obesity and the suffering likely to come of it from diabetes alone.

Rising to leave, I stopped to retell my favorite of the stories I’d heard in that room.

Mildred’s late husband, Charles, worked at the old Springfield High School, later South, and volunteered to photograph sporting events.

He’d described worming his way on to a narrow catwalk high above Troy’s Hobart Arena, trying to manage a camera in one hand, when he paused in mid-story to ask Mildred a question: “Dear, do you think that was the stupidest thing I ever did to get a photograph?”

Before Mildred answered, there was a marvelous, lengthy pause during which she fully consider all the nominees in the category.

The recollection of it made me laugh again.

As I said, there may have been better things for me to have done on that gray late winter morning than have coffee with my old friend. But none come to mind.

Contact this reporter at (937) 328-0368 or tstafford@coxohio.com.

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