The Interview

This is a condensed version of an entry I had on Open Diary back in October of 2000 which was written as a tribute to a lady who was very special to me. Helen came into my life when I needed her and stayed beside me as I faced some difficult challenges. We remained in touch after I moved away, but I never saw her again after 1974. The original was in much greater detail and was intended to be shared with her so that she would fully know what she had meant in my life.

The printed version layed on my desk for five months and in March of 2001, I received word that Helen had passed away. I never suspected she had any health problems, though she was well into her 80’s. She never told me. Her letters and notes were always upbeat and cheerful, and she was still working at the same small company where she had remained all those years.

I’m sorry that I procrastinated. I regret that I never saw Helen again and will always wonder if she truly knew what she meant to me…how special she made me feel.

I finally did mail the printed version, but to the Editor of the town newspaper. He was kind enough to run it and that prompted a reunion between JB and myself. We caught up on 30 years of life.

If you can hear me Helen – I love you and I know you’re sporting around out there somewhere in the Universe in your little red Mustang convertible!

That’s right – until the day she died! What a lady.

“Secretary wanted for metal fabricating company. Experience preferred. Call JB at 555-2112.”

The phone booth was like an oven in the midday heat and as I dialed the number, small rivulets of sweat etched their way down my forehead wrecking havoc with my mascara. Mr. B came on the line immediately and upon hearing I was just down the street, he laughingly told me to come on over and he’d see me right away. I had just recently moved to this small town on Lake Erie, I had no friends, my marriage was falling apart, I had two small sons and not much money. I really needed this job.

An attractive petite woman in her 50’s came toward me as I stood framed in the reception window and I felt warmed by her smile and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She welcomed me in hushed tones to which I found myself responding almost in a whisper. I would later become familiar with the intimacy of her words – as though they were a shared secret.

She introduced herself as Helen, the Office Manager, and said JB was expecting me. I followed her to an inner office where a very handsome man in his 40’s was seated at a desk. She introduced him as the owner and President of the company as he stood with a smile and shook my hand. He asked that I call him J and invited me to take a seat. I did so as Helen positioned herself in a nearby chair…eyes still twinkling.

My memory of that day contains no words. I couldn’t tell you what was said, but it was as if I had come upon a small oasis of warmth and light in a world that had, for me, grown dark and ominous – testament to how vulnerable I had become. I felt almost desperate in my desire to stay in that room with those two people. I didn’t want to return to my world.

Thankfully, I was hired and within the walls of that modest building I came face-to-face with many lessons which would serve me well during my life. Helen and J demonstrated to me the many faces of love on a daily basis, through their acts of kindness, loyalty, respect and compassion. Not only to me, but to everyone who crossed their paths. They accepted and embraced me, as did all of the people that made up that small world within a world.

They became the family I didn’t have. At night when I was alone after the boys were fast asleep, the snippets of conversation and laughter from the day would play back in my mind like a familiar story and they would lighten my heart. The curtain of isolation slowly began to lift and I started to feel alive again.

MIronworks wasn’t a job to me, it was a lifesaver. God answered my prayers as I stood alone and frightened in that phone booth over thirty years ago. I was blessed with two angels that summer day, whose unlikely territory was a small office in a metal fabricating company somewhere on Lake Erie. It was a beginning and it was an ending, but then…it always is.