Miles, Years, and Cyberspace

Posted by Debbie McCullis in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 1 comment

List the most important people in your life, and write a descriptive phrase about each of them,” was the prompt I was given in my writing class. Checking my list, I brimmed with emotion, craving contact with several people, especially Dorothy, the woman I’d met when I was nineteen.

In 1974 Dorothy and I had just begun a certification program in licensed practical nursing in upstate NewYork. Attending the same classes, we quickly became friends. Outside of class, we took long walks, discussed life, studied, and socialized together.

Dorothy fascinated me. She wasn’t much older than I, but she was worldly! While I still lived at home in Cortland while attending school, she owned a home in the country and lived in a world that I’d never been exposed to. A graduate in Natural Resources from Cornell University, she was a great vegetarian cook who often made delicious ethnic meals from the Moosewood Cookbook. She played the drum and banjo; made butter from the milk of her cow, Buttercup; collected honey from her own bee hives; grew herbs and vegetables; and loved international folk dance. I’d been raised on meat and potatoes, played the piano, and never took any type of dance class.

By 1975, we were both accepted into the school’s first nursing class to earn an Associate Degree in Science. Over two memorable years, my life was enriched by my teachers, by my patients, and by my deepening friendship with Dorothy.

Our outdoor walks cured just about everything. Dorothy’s passion and sense of adventure ensured joy in the present moment. Exploring paths I had never before considered, I felt a new level of contentment. Well-traveled both stateside and abroad, she told me, “There is life outside of here,” and expanded my limited view of the world. During our time together I received honors grades and, for the first time, felt comfortable with those whose lives were foreign to mine.

Following graduation, I worked for a time in the intensive care unit of my hometown hospital. Then, with Dorothy’s words in mind, and one hundred fifty dollars in my pocket; with neither job prospects nor a place to live, I moved to Colorado. What I did have was confidence in myself, and the trust that things would work out well. I owed much of that to my friendship with Dorothy.

We lost contact after I married, but Dorothy was never far from my thoughts. Now, eighteen years later, I reminisced about our shared experiences and laughter. Dorothy had helped me to believe that everything was possible; that anything I desired was within reach. Writing of the impact she’d had on my life, I realized I had to find her.

There were perhaps two hundred Dorothy Browns listed on Yahoo.com, and I wasn’t sure if Brown was still her last name; maybe she had married. “This is crazy,” I remember thinking. “I’ll never find her. Is this hopeless?” Looking through my old photos and the letters she had sent after I moved to Colorado, I searched for additional hints to direct my path. Laughing and crying as I remembered the wonderful times we had shared, I found only two clues: her middle initial and a return mailing address from a letter she had sent in 1982. Selecting five Yahoo e-mail addresses, I sent my message, and began to wait: hours of wondering, doubt, and splendid anticipation!

Rather than stay at home and let anxiety get the best of me, I went to a nearby running track and began to walk. Listening to my favorite CD, Conversations with God, I decided that if I had but one day to live, Dorothy was the person I’d most want to see again. I prayed aloud as I walked. With each footstep, I felt my heartbeat, tears streaming down my face. Then, my favorite song started to play, and a sense of peace descended upon me. I knew God had provided the answer to my prayers.

Returning home, I checked my e-mail: two messages had come, neither from the Dorothy I was looking for. The next day, another Dorothy e-mailed, with the subject line, “It’s me!” Feeling as if I were nineteen again, I read her email several times, incredulous that I had actually found her! I responded immediately, but it wasn’t until Sunday morning, hearing her voice on my answering machine, that I knew it was my Dorothy!

When we finally spoke, we chatted for more than an hour, unable to believe that we had found each other. We talked of our lives, families, and ambitions. She said, “I’d been thinking about you for the past eighteen months, wishing we hadn’t lost touch, and wondering how I would ever find you. I knew that you had married and changed your name. I’d considered trying to contact your mother, when I was amazed to receive your email.”

Within the month, Dorothy visited me in Denver. From the moment we embraced it was as if no time had passed. She looked the same: fit and tanned from all the time she spent outdoors. We spent our time together at the local bookstore in animated conversation about our love of animals, nature, music, gardening, travel, family, friendship, and how we choose to live life fully. Over and over we commented, “What a gift, to have found each other again.”

Dorothy and I honor our commitment to stay in touch; so much easier now with e-mail. I thank God for computers, and for our treasured friendship – the friendship that survived the separation of all those miles, and all those years.

A HandPrints On My Heart story

Path Photo by jimsumo999
Track Photo by Mark Cacovic
Email Photo by ideagirlmedia