Picture it. Emory & Henry College, circa 1989-1993. I was never on time for anything. Except usually my period. When I told my Mom I wanted to Rush in order to be in a Sorority, he was unfamiliar with the lingo and sarcastically replied, “Why? You’ve never been in a hurry for anything in your life!” And it was true. Mom felt she had “marked” me before I was born by eating – unbeknownst to her at the time – turtle stew at my father’s family’s house one Sunday afternoon at a family dinner. My father’s family grew up eating all sorts of game – my mother’s family did not – so it was always great fun for the Andersons to see what they could pull over on Mom. She said when Mamaw Mae told her what she’d just eaten, she could feel it crawling around in her belly and just knew that she’d marked me. And, from the beginning, I was indeed late for everything. I was due on August 13 and born on August 23. Mom knew the exact ay I was due because Rex, my father, had only been home one night the month I was conceived.
So, by the time I got to college, being late was an established part of my life. I didn’t mean to be late; it just happened. Eight a.m. classes were impossible. Dr. Griffin would stop class every Tuesday and Thursday and say, “Well, Ms. Anderson, it’s so good of you to join us! I’m so glad your engraved invitation arrived!” I did indeed Rush (which had nothing at all to do with hurrying, as I tried to explain to my mother). And I got a Bid from Pi Sigma Kappa social sorority, which I joyously joined in Fall 1990. Their colors were purple and gold, so it was an instantaneous fit for me – well, for my wardrobe, anyway. There were lots of meetings, lots of Pledge activities, lots of things going on with the Sorority. And yes, I was late for almost all of it. In fact, so notorious was my tardiness, that certain members of the Sorority began telling me to be somewhere thirty minutes ahead of time so I would actually be there when I needed to be. Then I was only a couple of minutes late. A could of Sisters called it “Chrissie Time,” as in “Are we leaving at 5:00 REAL time, or 5:00 Chrissie Time?” Another Sister called it Double-F time because it took me “F’ing Forever” to get anywhere. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to others, honestly. I just filled my schedule – overfilled my schedule – to the point of not being able to juggle all my activities accordingly.
One semester at Emory, I had back-to-back classes at Miller Hall – way up on one side of the campus on a hill – and in the King Center, the gymnasium – way down in the far opposite corner of the school property. It was a good 15-minute walk with asthma, and there were only ten minutes between classes. Add to that the fact that this was the semester I first proclaimed myself the “Friendliest Person on Campus,” and – well, you see the problem. The Friendliest Person on Campus must smile and say hello to everyone on her way from Point A to Point B, right? I was always so late to Safety Education that I had to wait for another pair to finish and someone else, usually a football player named Hooter, had to do all the work all over again, with me. Thank God he took pity on me because I had no clue what was going on in class. He could splint his own arm and leg and let me slide by with an A in the class. He told me one day, “I know you’re really smart, but you don’t get first aid, do you?” I humbly replied no, I did not. He just made me promise never to try to help anyone in an emergency. I promised and he continued doing the work for me while I pretended to know what I was doing the whole semester. God bless Hooter.
After college, in the real world, I could leave thirty minutes early and would have car trouble, run into traffic, or even be stopped to let farm animals pass that had escaped pesky fences on farms between my home and wherever I was going (most often work). Or I’d stop off to pick up breakfast for co-workers and myself and the line would take forever on a day when the line normally wouldn’t have done so. Or I’d run off the road and plough into a baby pine tree in the snow in a freak late-March snowstorm. I decided long ago I’m Murphy’s Law Incarnate – if something’s going to go wrong, it will go wrong for me – and have just learned to go with it.
I’ve grown out of most of my tardiness. It still rears its ugly head sometimes, especially early in the morning. But compared to college, I’m like a clock. Maybe a cuckoo clock. Or maybe I’m just cuckoo. The verdict is still out on that one.
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