A Sisterly Tribute

Since today is the last day of January, I just want to mention that my sister Dennice turned 59 one day this month (for her privacy I won't say which day).  So I decided to do a little tribute to her.  If you click on the link above you'll get a little background information on this eldest of the Dowell children, if you haven't already.  I will re-post a bit of that here and continue with a funny "Dennice" story.

Dennice is a Speech and Language Pathologist who works in a school system and who also takes private clients. The rest of us thought it was rather ironic when she decided to become a Speech Pathologist because, of all of us, Dee is known as the "talker". She also has a very country/Southern accent that none of the rest of us have, even though we all grew up in the same county in Kentucky. Dee never fails to put her foot in her mouth and then proceed to make matters worse by trying to explain herself out of the situation. And although now, in her later years, she doesn't get into quite as many physical scrapes as she did when she was younger, she is still known as the one who could fall up a set of stairs, and the one who once backed into a parked school bus -- among other things. Oh, the stories I could tell!

And I think I'll tell one now.

When I was about 8 years old Dennice and her husband and young daughter lived in a mobile home for a few years.  At this time she was a stay-at-home-mom, and one who was never idle.  She kept herself busy from sunup to sundown with housekeeping, yardwork, a garden and her young daughter.  One day she took the notion to put a fresh coat of paint on the bathroom.  She'd been painting for a few minutes when it occurred to her that she hadn't opened the window, and that that just might be a good idea!  Struggle as she could, though, she could not get the window in the little bathroom to open.  So she grabbed a hammer and tapped a few times; but the window remained stuck.

Dennice wasn't going to give up easily, so she went outside and around to the back of the trailor to see if tapping on it from the outside would do the trick.  When she got around back, lo and behold, the window was open!  Humpf, she thought!  Her tapping must have loosened it after all!

Back inside she went, to pick up her paint brush and resume her work.  When she got back inside the bathroom the window had closed.  She tried and tried but once again the window was stuck.

Back outside she trudged, hammer in hand, to give that blankety-blank window a piece of her mind.  The window, once again, was open.  This time she charged back inside, a martial light in her eye, just daring that window to be closed.

It was!

Okay.  Was she imagining this?  Had the paint fumes got to her after all?  One more time she was going to go outside, and if that window was open she was going to go get someone to stand guard outside while she went inside, and they were going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

Back outside she went, plan of action in mind, hammer in hand, and a determined set to her jaw.  The window was open.

Furious now and muttering epithets under her breath, she shoved her hammer through the open window, where it landed with a clatter in the kitchen sink.

Yes, the kitchen sink.

Now, as you know, kitchen sinks aren't usually found in bathrooms, but are rather usually located in a kitchen. 

Stunned, she looked to her right, and, sure enough, there was the bathroom window, right where it had been the whole time, stuck tight.

Now, that's a cute story in and of itself, but the really funny thing, and the thing that makes it a true"Dennice" story is the fact that had she not told on herself, none of the rest of us would ever have known about it.  That's my sister, Dennice!

(Oh, I've got a lot of Dennice stories!  This is just the beginning!)

Tags: Family stories