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When I was a kid, saying to another kid in a loud, taunting voice: "You got Cooties"...was considered a major slam. Repeating it 30 or 40 times was better of course. Yet I never really thought about what a "Cootie" was. This ignorance persisted throughout my childhood and followed me right into adulthood.

 

But I don't want to talk about Cooties. I wanted to talk about Edna.

 

I was asked to volunteer at the VA as I was getting discharged by a volunteer who was going into the hospital as I was getting out. Tom was an expert lapidary and he volunteered in the recreation therapy dept to teach other vets cutting and polishing gemstones. He'd been sitting on top of a track vehicle in nam when it hit a land mine and as they were blown up, the track rolled over his leg. He'd been dragging it along and was finally tiered of it as wanted it cut off. AS I was close to an expert in this, he asked me and I started doing what he was doing thinking he'd be back soon to take his old volunteer position back. Never saw him again.

 

But I don't want to talk about Tom. So I'm working recreation therapy, lapidary mostly, and there was a group of elderly women, like in their 80's, who would at least weekly or more, come up and hang around. Mostly they made delicious cookies and cakes, and they'd bring them up to some appreciative vets, some of whom had been in for extended stays -the home cooking touches were really nice for them. The ladies would lay their wares out on a table, along with some fake grape drink, and give it away to anyone who wandered over, and visit if anyone felt like visiting. This was an "official" organization kind of thing though, they wore hats like Shriners and had pins, lapels, big signs and other markings proudly and loudly proclaiming themselves Cooties! The sign said they were a WW1 axillary ladies group. Cooties?

 

One day, I'm musing over my ignorance of what a Cootie really was if these women were so proud to be it. So I sidle up to Edna. "Hi Edna", I say, "Can I ask you something?" Edna was a good looking woman of about 84 or so at the time. When I say"good-looking", I don't mean like a 20 year old model in a magazine, in fact, not sexy at all. Whatever the opposite of that is. I mean, she was frumpy, round, sagged in every place an 80+ year old woman sagged and wore support hose. No, when I say "good-lookin'", I'm referring to the fact that she loved people, and was always happy and upbeat. If she ever had a care in the world she never conveyed that to anyone I ever saw. Although she had those perpetual crinkles that denotes smiling near her eyes, when I asked my question, she lit up and those crows feet really stood out! "Why dear, she smiled, you really don't know what Cooties are?". She's wearing a vest with "COOTIE", embroidered in 8" high lettering and it says "COOTIE" on her hat and shes standing in front of a table that says "COOTIES" with "WW1 axillary ladies group in tiny letters under that. "Why no," I say, "I really don't". To be honest, I thought that Cooties were body lice, but wasn't sure and didn't want to be mean to these nice ladies and say that out loud. However, why these nice elderly women were so proud to be called this was totally escaping me, and I thought I was wrong about it and needed to dispel some of my own ignorance.

 

"Why Cooties are lice dear", she says flatly some of her normally perpetual smile disappearing.

 

I stammered and thought about it for a moment.....I couldn't really piece it together. It was true that I'd had total amnesia, and only gotten part of my memory back, big gaps still existed. I just been discharged cause the head wound thing. But I couldn't drag my mind across that gap...Cooties are Lice, and these nice ladies are Cooties...hmmm...so I asked. "Edna, I asked, "Why do you guys call yourself Cooties"? "Oh that", she says, finally getting around to understanding my apparent confusion, "well dear, she leans in and says in a conspiratorial voice, glancing sideways as if she can confirm no one else is listening in, her eyes once again crinkling and smiling "it's because we attach ourselves to our men. They can't shake us off, and that's why were still here after all these years".

 

Cracked me up and we both laughed heartily out loud. Loved that woman, she was so kind and giving. Woke up this morning laughing about it again, thinking of Edna, who would probably be about 110 years old now if she was alive, and wanted to share.

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