My Steel Magnolias

A Regular Old Magnolia

It wasn't until this last summer that I can honestly say I ever laid eyes on a magnolia tree and knew for a fact that it was a magnolia. What a magnificently tall specimen of a magnolia it was, too.  Its Latin name magnolia grandiflora is so appropriate. I spotted the large white flowers first, and knew at once that what stood before me was a grand magnolia, full of fading blossoms.

  

Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the gigantic, sweet-smelling blooms were very delicate.  It must have been the end of their blossoming season because the flowers seemed to be drooping, holding themselves wide open before dropping their petals on the lawn below.  So this was a magnolia.  The green shiny leaves that surrounded the flowers showcased the flowers nicely. I'd never really given the foliage of Virginia much thought as a young girl.  Now that I have lived my life outside of my home state these thirty-odd years, I have a greater affection for everything about this place, and the people in it.

A Delicate Magnolia

My only connection to magnolias had been the 1989 movie called Steel Magnolias, featuring a group of small-town southern women who relied on each other as they faced the trials of their lives.  When the movie came out, I was a young mother with two small children dealing with trials of my own, working full-time, raising a family, and trying to make ends meet.  My family and best friends were a good support system, but over time, I reconnected with the girls from my high school.  We come from a small southern town in Virginia, and I now consider this tightly-knit group of friends MY steel magnolias.

My Steel Magnolias

Last summer our girlfriend gathering in Virginia turned into a Red Hat Society meeting.  We know we're not OLD enough, but we are silly enough to don the hats and pose for pictures.  One little suggestion of hats, and Margaret was in a frenzy to gather hats for all of us, and customize one for each of us with her daughter.  This sweet summer memory lingers with me.  I love the photographs; I love the hats; I love the girls.

We are all so grateful to have modern technology help us stay connected as some of us have scattered far and wide from the hub of our hometown.  Facebook, emails, and texts keep us updated on each other.  We have supported each other through the loss of parents, struggles with children, worries about grandchildren, the stress of full-time jobs on top of demands of family, and the challenges of relationships in this crazy world.

What a blessing to know that they always have my back.

In high school, I was a bit of an outsider.  I never managed the girlfriend scene very well.  Girls seemed so dramatic, and I enjoyed hanging out with my brothers and sisters more than getting involved in teen angst.  More recently, I have come to appreciate all of the women in my life, and have bonded with old friends and new as I make lasting connections with my female companions.  Whether we met each other through high school, college, work, or communities, we have become very good friends who can count on each other.

These Steel Magnolias have known me the longest; we have a history.  I will be forever grateful for reconnecting with them through the gift of modern technology, and for this wonderful occasion to have had face time with them.  I love them.  I just hope they know that.

Margaret and her daughter made each hat into a wonderful piece of art.

I Shall Wear Purple

Jenny Thomas' poem "Warning" begins, "When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me."  I read this poem a dozen years ago, and it touched me.  I think of it from time to time, when I notice the crow's feet, which I prefer to call laugh lines.  I think of it when I choose the comfortable clothes over the fashionable ones.  I think of it when I finally say exactly what I think, and I am not sorry for it.

My husband and I have decided that "old" is twenty years older than we are.  When we are 80, we will look at the centenarians with a knowing look and give each other a wink.  At least we're not THAT old, we will think.  But often I catch myself doing things and think, "Girl, you're getting OLD."  Perhaps I am, but I'd rather not "check out" just yet, so I will embrace aging over the alternative.

Yesterday it was my extreme delight to attend a gathering comprised of high school friends.  We were the Nelson County High School Class of '79.  On a whim, several weeks ago, I suggested that we all find red hats for a fun photo shoot.  There were detractors; "I can't wear hats; I can't breathe if I wear a hat; I don't WANT to wear a hat."  Everyone seemed to resign themselves with the fact that it looked like the majority had won; we would all be wearing hats.

Margaret took great care in selecting the hats, and we were impressed how each style seemed to match our personalities.  We laughed and teased as each of us put our hats on.  Someone told us we weren't old enough to be Red Hat ladies.  It's more of an ATTITUDE than an age.

The whole afternoon was filled with good-natured hilarity, tender hugs and whispers of encouragement, as  many of us are facing new challenges at this stage in our lives.  We ate, we drank, we talked, and listened.  If this is getting old, sign me up.  I hope to have many Red Hat Society gatherings in the future.

A friend of mine quipped, "When I get old I shall wear purple...until then, let's dress in purple."  Thank you, Kimberly Keisel. Agreed.  It's such a lovely color on anyone.  And at my age, I can take all of the image enhancers I can get!  I will be looking for more opportunities to don my red chapeau.  It is darling, and I couldn't have picked out a better hat for myself.

Here's to the purple and red!



P.S.  For any who have not read Jenny Thomas' poem, I have attached it below.








WARNING!

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples' gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

by Jenny Joseph