A long time ago…
Go back to a Minnesota cold November day. I am standing in the lunch line at Portland High School, waiting for my favorite hot lunch…roast turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes…giggling not too loudly with my best friend, Melanie Taylor. We were checking out all the cute, older boys surrounding us in line.
Mel and I had been best friends since 3rd grade and we had been looking forward to our entrance into 9th grade for every single moment of the whole, long, boring summer.
We were both fourteen and still too young for real summer jobs. I wouldn’t turn fifteen until December. Mel’s birthday was next week.
Baby sitting and walking back and forth to each other’s houses were the sum total of our summer. We were gloriously tanned but impressively bored.
I hung out more at Mel’s house than she did at mine. Unfortunately, it was neighborhood knowledge that my father Victor Jones drank too often and too much…that his beautiful wife, Kathy Jones deserved so much better and “Oh, that sweet, sweet Sam…it must be so hard for her.”
From age eleven on, I never knew a day when there wasn’t a lost, lonely feeling in the pit of my stomach and a thin veil of sadness around me that never quite lifted.
But that was about to change…