She was planned

     When I went to college. and for the year afterward when I worked at the agar factory, I lived with my grandmother on the outskirts of Buffalo. Home, where my folks lived, of course, was in North Boston – in the suburbs 20 miles south of Buffalo. And I was at home quite often – especially on the weekends of my agar factory employment – I had no social life. And it was often the case that friends did not know if I was at my grandmother's or my folks' house at any specific time.

     And so it was sometime after college that Mr. Perfect, had wanted to get in touch. He had phone numbers to my grandmother's house and my parents', not that he called either of them all that often – nor were they memorized. Most likely my phone numbers were in one of his dictionaries next to the word meretricious.

     And he, along with most of my friends, were a little leery of calling my home. A caller would be at the risk of teasing from one of my parents should Mom or Dad answer the ring. They loved to goof on anyone. And so if either parent answered the phone when someone called and asked for me, especially a gentleman caller, well one never knew quite what to expect.

     So it is a wonder, looking back on it now, to realize that Mr. Perfect, or anyone, ever dialed our number.

     But one day, Mr. Perfect called on the phone, at my parents' house.

     Dad answered the phone.

     Mr. Perfect, not sure if he would find me at home, asked, “Is Denise there by chance?”

     And without missing a beat, Dad responded, “No, she was planned.”

     From that moment on, Mr. Perfect was in awe of a master! The quickness, cleverness, timing – what a perfect response.

     It was also just about the nicest thing Dad ever said about me!

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