Sunday, March 25, 2012

The Yearbook: Margaret


The year was 1982. We danced to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album and watched “E.T.” on the silver screen. John Belushi died and Prince William was born. We exercised  to Jane Fonda video tapes and never missed watching “Dynasty” on TV. Gas cost 91 cents a gallon and a stamp two dimes. We were spooked by the Tylenol scare and held our breath as the recession began.
It was a year of promise and pain, of sweetness and sorrow.

But it was OUR year. 

We were the Class of 1982, and we were ready to take on the world.   

Margaret (Yearbook post/1982)

Gina, to one of my dearest friends that I love very much. Always think of me as a friend and remember that I’m here if you need me. Never forget all the good times we had. Good luck in everything you do, and take care of Mike. When I look at you, I realize that you are aggressive and you’ll go far. Remember me always, Luv ya, Maggie

..........................  

3/25/12

I never thought of myself as aggressive, but I guess I am. I wonder if that’s a bad thing. Maybe yes and maybe no. Guess it depends on the situation. I think it’s worked well for me most of my life, but there was at least one time when being too aggressive cost me a friend.



Maggie was more of a follower than a leader. She was content to stand in the stage wings and let others bask in the spotlight. I used to get so mad at her for letting others take credit for her ideas. I told her it was like working your ass off to lose 20 pounds and then continuing to wear huge shirts – no one will notice the results of all your hard work. She always said that it didn’t matter. That she knew and that was good enough.

Today Maggie is definitely not in anyone’s shadows. Although every chance she gets, she steps aside and lets those who work for her bathe in the glory. After finishing college, she started working in the textile industry and climbed to the top, eventually becoming general manager and vice president of Dye Works Inc. She chairs the board of directors of the local hospital and Mom has sent me newspaper clippings over the years about her receiving awards for her charitable work.
Knowing Maggie, I’m sure she is embarrassed by the accolades.   

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