To my sweet Phyllis

They say if you were born in a small town you weren't raised by your parents, you were raised by the whole village...this statement resonates with my life completely. Until I was 14 I only knew Phyllis as the lady who drove the limo around town and the grandmother to Shane, Sheldon, and Crystal who I worked the snow cone stand and babysat for. For the last couple of years of Jr. High I drove tractor and did in and out jobs that my parents insisted built character...like building the backyard fence and scraping and painting the trim of our house. The summer after my brothers were both gone to college, I drove tractor pretty much everyday considering in Gruver it never rains and my dad had decided to farm more sections than we had ever farmed before (well for as long as I had been around...I think..) there was always a field that needed plowed. When farming started to get real fancy my dad got a GPS for our tractor and I could've killed the thing...it wasn't one of those super fancy ones that drove the tractor but more of a green light guide that turned red every moment I was driving serving as a constant reminder that I couldn't drive in a straight line. The summer before my first year of high school was the last year I drove tractor because my dad quit farming and started teaching at OPSU...don't worry he still likes to remissness about the farming days but we all decided we don't really ever truly miss them.

After dad quit farming my main concern was what I was going to do for my summer job. My parents expect me to pay for as much of my college education as I can--while in high school, that mean working all summer. All of the people I usually babysat for were teachers and didn't need a full-time sitter in the summer, I had no desire to look at numbers all day and work at the bank with my mom, I could've probably gotten a job for any one of the farmers around but that was my last resort choice. When I was little, I had always wanted to work as a waitress at some point in my life (I have a halloween picture somewhere, it's just not with me here in Chile). My cousins and I continuously "served" my grandparents our concoctions of rice crispy-treats covered in cherries from the backyard tree with powdered sugar that they happily swore was the best thing they'd ever eaten and we'd get so excited until my dad would come in and tell us sarcastically "Oh yeah, that's GREAT!" while my granddad just smiled in the background taking another bite. I called up one of the two local restaurants in town, the El Vaquero, and asked Phyllis if she might need a hand for the summer. She told me to come up within the next couple of days and we'd talk about where she might could use me.

I went in a day or two afterwards and the first thing I see is Phyllis arms deep in flour or something with her white apron on standing over a mixing bowl. Peggy was there and we all talked about what my schedule was and how much I could work in the summertime considering I was going to play summer basketball and such. I worked my first weekend the following week and I remember it being great...except for the fact that I couldn't tell which dressing was ranch and which was blue cheese to save my life. I started working in March and by the end of the summer, the El Vaquero was another home.

Phyllis knew the definition of hard-work and helped my parents plenty in building my character. I worked pretty much everyday and night shift, unless I was playing basketball which at times I was for two weeks in a row, every summer while I was in high school. I'd come in in the mornings and Phyllis would've already been there for four hours making hot sauce and specials for the day. Peggy would have most of the restaurant set up and we'd sit at the community table drinking coffee before Donnie drove up at 10:50, or Ted and Louise would look through the window at 10:45. We'd all sit and talk about what was going on in town or what special Phyllis was cooking up for the rest of the week.

When business would pick up, Anne Whitacker, Phyllis' dear sweet friend, would come in and take money so that Peggy and I would have more time to tend to our customers. Some days were so busy we couldn't even stop to think but other days we would sit at the community table talking to all of my grandparents, including my biological ones, who came into the cafe every day for lunch.

Phyllis was such a genuine and caring person--everyone who came into the restaurant knew it. She loved to come in at night for five minutes and say hello, take care of someone's tab, and walk out before they would even realize she did it. Sweet as she was, she was also a little prankster and love to pull jokes on me and the other girls at work. One day I remember walking into the kitchen to this black furry thing resembling a small skunk scurrying across the floor only to find Phyllis behind the opposite counter pulling the other end of the string tied to the stuffed rodent. She'd decorate the restaurant for every holiday and take all the little kids around that came in to push all of the buttons on the singing Santas..Donnie would've complained about the noise, but the kids were always too cute. Phyllis was also one of the most generous people I'd ever met. Every Christmas she'd come around with a Santa hat and give me a Christmas bonus--I remember my first year of college I came home in December and worked for like a week and after the restaurant had closed for the holiday, there Phyllis was knocking on my door, Santa hat on, Christmas envelope in hand.

When I found out Phyllis had cancer, it made me sick. Over the past couple of years her physical health had been getting worse and worse, but you wouldn't know it by the way she worked, Peggy and I would have to absolutely kick her out of the kitchen some days. I was able to visit the next couple of times I was in town, and a few months later Phyllis seemed to be doing better and the cancer was gone. Though not more than a few months later Mom called me a couple weeks after Christmas to tell me Phyllis wasn't doing very well and they had put her in home hospice. When I heard Phyllis passed away I cried and laughed all at the same time wondering if the good Lord would be able to get her to quit working to the bone in Heaven...she's got working shoulders and a liberated spirit, all of Heaven is probably feasting on chips and salsa listening to Sheldon play the guitar.

Like every person at the community table, Phyllis and Harv were another set of grandparents who looked out for me and taught me more about life than I ever could've imagined. Never could I have ever imagined what a role Phyllis would play in my life when she hired me that day in March. She taught me the ins and outs of the service industry and is probably the sole reason I was able to get a job at a restaurant in Austin. Among a long list of other things Phyllis taught me about love and how to love people every moment of every day....and for those of you who are asking...no she never taught me her secret to making black sauce or any of the other wonderful foods that were always coming out of her kitchen :-). I'm a world away from the little cafe that taught me so much growing up--thinking of the long hours we spent at the community table each day just brings a smile to my face.

I know when I go home that the El Vaquero won't be the same, Phyllis' heart and soul was left all over that old hotel. I'll look down to the end of the community table and will miss that sweet smile that always brought joy to my heart. Like anyone, I am sad that Phyllis is gone and will truly miss her, but I am so happy that she now has a body of "one of those young people" that she was always talking about--she always told me that I never wanted to get old. I don't write this to be sappy or mushy, but only to honor one of my all time favorite people in the world, a boss, a grandmother, a hero...so to my sweet sweet Phyllis--thank you for everything you taught me, every smile, every laugh, and most importantly all the love you blessed my heart with each day.

I love you so much.