Roommates--now there's a group of people that could fill up my soul spotlights for the rest of eternity! I had some great ones and some good ones, some weird ones and some normal ones, temporary and long-term, outgoing and shy, you name it! But one of the very most cherishable of them all was BRRRRENDA Copley!
I could rarely call her just Brenda. It's always BRRRRENDA!
When we signed up for another year at Regency, we saw a new girl's name, Brenda, and could hardly wait to meet her. Because who even is named Brenda anymore?! So we tried to imagine just what she would be like, whether she would like us (the 4 of us were quite loud and outgoing) and what kinds of things she did like.
Oh when we met her! It was the perfect moment of having expectations for someone and having them fulfilled and then shortly thereafter very much exceeded!
A story for every part of BRRRENDA, cap a pie:
Hair: BRRENDA has CRAZY hair. It is curly and long and bushy, but she knows exactly how to maintain it and often wears a little flower clip in it, which is endearing. One of the very first weeks she moved in, the twins asked if they could help her curl it. She of course said, as she always did to any kind of question, comment or concern, "okaaaaaay...." and before a second went by, Rach and Chels were circling around her brushing then straightening then pulling then bunching then curling. It took a long time. So long, in fact, that with all that standing and all that pulling and heat, Brenda couldn't take it. She eventually ended up barfing in the sink! :( Especially becuase we were new friends and she was shy, we all felt SO bad, but after taking a little rest and tying her hair up in a ponytail, she came out of her room and said..."Well, now I know. Curl till you hurl!"
Eyes: Brenda always wore these awesome pink 50's sunglasses! haha!
Ears: The first time my parents came to visit after Brenda moved in, I told my dad what hawk-like ears my new roommate had. Our apartment featured a kitchen at the front with a long hall of three bedrooms, Brenda's at the very back. I told my dad I would demonstrate and stood in the kitchen, facing the hallway. Then I quietly whispered, "Brrrrenda!" and from down at the very end of her hall behind her closed bedroom door came the reply in a whisper, "What?" Hawk-like ears!
Brain: Ok, I'll just say it. She's kinda nerdy. LOVES LOTR. But also VERY smart. She was a business student and we would walk to the Tanner building every day together, which we lovingly nicknamed "Eldon," the boy we spent all our time with and reserved Friday nights for but had a rather cold-shouldered personality. When she got into the business school, Dan Jones wrote her a song which has become legend and goes something like, "BRRRenda-ah-ah, BRRenda-ah-ah-ah, BRREnda-ah-ah you rock!"
Torso: We lived through some pretty crazy roommates, Brenda and I, but her tender heart loved them all. Brenda is so easy-going and tolerant, so amiable and flexible, so chill. She patted us all when we experienced heartbreak and celebrated with us in our moments of triumph. She giggled for years about her missionary, and even when that story ended rather sadly, her heart was enduring and practical. Her heart has enough room for every cat in the world, including every Kat and all other roommates she stood by. She's got a tender heart, that one! And speaking of her torso, her stomach was always happy with some cereal for breakfast and mac 'n' cheese for dinner:)
Arms: One time Brenda came into town for my wedding and we wanted her to sleep on the bed but she just refused and laid on the floor. Too bad for her we lifted her up by her arms and legs and laid her right on that bed! And, as always, she was tolerant and laughed.
Legs: No legs have ever been able to run away from a camera fast than BRRENDA's. She hated having her picture taken, but again, tolerated us when we just couldn't resist capturing her great Brendaness! Also, she didn't have a car but walked everywhere and was perfectly content in doing so.One time I convinced her to help me find a new swimsuit and we went to Big 5. When we got there, there was a sign on the door that said, "Please Use Other Door." I don't know why I assumed that meant the one that didn't actually exist on the other side of the building in the dark sketchy alley haha instead of the one right next to the sign, but Brenda just willingly walked with me to figure it out. And copiously made fun of me after that haha!
Ok one more story about her legs, one time we convinced her to come hike the Y with us at like 5 in the morning, because she wanted to make absolute sure she made it to class on time. We left so early and we just pushed her and pushed her and lied to her about how far we had gone until we just finally couldn't even go on anymore and she sat on the trail. haha we were so pushy and crazy, but she was so good natured to us.
Ok, just one more. When Elise got married, she flew out for the wedding (uh hi. She did that for mine too. Such a good friend!) Anyway, we told Lise we'd pick up the flowers and take them to the temple. Little did we know that they came in a HUGE cooler that took up most of my backseat, but Brenda was so willing to just squeeze her legs (and the rest of her) in the little 4 inches of space and drive for an hour and a half. haha so enduring.
Feet: Slippers! Every morning and night. So endearing.
I love Brenda so much! Between thinking "We fell in love in a hopeless place" was "homeless place" and laughing together about the crazy people we knew, making fun of boys in our ward ("I was impressed.....uponbythespirittoleave!"), walking to meet Eldon every day, squeezing on the bed with her to do homework, getting mature advice from her and on and on and on, she will always be such a dear friend to me. Tolerant and accepting and kind and adaptable, not to mention slyly hilarious and witty, I'm so glad she was the random roommate in our apartment.
BRRRenda-ah-ah-ah, BRRRenda-ah-ah-ah, BRRenda-ah-ah you rock!
Friday, April 17, 2015
Friday, January 9, 2015
Ya Big Pineapple Head!
Shelia Cope taught me so many lessons.
Literally, as my best Sunday School teacher. And also in general by the way she lived and treated me and everyone who knew her as her dearest friend. So many moments related to Sheila Cope are so poignant in my mind and have only become more so as I've experienced more of life.
The way she looked, for example. Most everything about Sis. Cope was long. She had a long face with a long, round mouth that smiled a huge smile for a long time because she was always smiling. She had a long frame and wore long skirts and had long eyelashes that fluttered so often with laughter and long fingers with long fake fingernails that pointed out so many valuable scriptures to my young, learning mind. Not long about Sis. Cope? Her beautiful gray hair, which stuck out short, short all over her long head. Which is where my Dad, after recently calling her as his new Relief Society President, answered the phone to her call and said, "Sheila Cope, ya big pineapple head!"
She also had long patience and a long sense of humor, which is why she drew a picture of a big pineapple on our signature bathroom wall after that. No offense taken, Bishop!
So much to say about Sis. Cope! She was, as I said, the best Sunday School teacher I ever had. She taught me things about Nephi's vision, something I had studied countless times before under the tutelage of other very great teachers, that I had never learned before. She made us think, she made us wonder about the gospel and helped us form our own testimonies where other teachers didn't quite know how to let that happen. She knew the scriptures so well. She loved them, too, loved studying them and loved sharing them with our young spirits. Such a great, great gospel teacher.
She sang in some kind of quartet or otherwise and I went to watch her perform one time. She wore a great long, blond wig for her performance and though I can't remember what was going on, it sticks in my mind as something totally ok for her to do because she was fun loving and not easily embarrassed.
And there's another lesson--her lighthearted love. She was so young at heart! So much loud laughter and clever joking and fun willingness. Such a good friend because she was so full of love!
As you can tell from my use of tenses, Sheila Cope is gone now. But even in her death she taught me some of the most valuable and most poignant lessons.
The phone call, for one. I had never been present when news of a death was first shared. But I remember that Christmas break we were in the basement and my mom got a call from Sis. Griggs and it was so solemnly received that I was very scared at first that something had happened to Sarah. But I had never seen my mom so sad. No time to clean up or toughen up before passing the news onto her children. And of course a tough woman like my mom would be sad about news like that, because Sheila Cope was such a dear friend to my tough ol mom. And there is nothing so sad as a sudden, young death like Sis. Cope's. That was indeed a very sad moment and a very important glimpse for me, though I didn't know how much it would help me later, of the tender emotions always present underneath my brave mom's seemingly impenetrable shell.
I remember picturing Sis. Cope in her driveway, shoveling the snow before she died. Of course she was doing something serviceable like that. Of course.
And then more lessons at the funeral. I've grown to like funerals less and less as I've experienced more and more of them, and looking back on that one now, I can see the same misery all over her family member's faces that I know now. I, awkward and young and inexperienced in death, was too shy to approach them, so while my dad did, I went to look in her casket. You know it was crazy. That wasn't the first dead body I'd seen. But I looked in at her laying there and knew instantly that the body before me was nothing more--just a body! My testimony of the resurrection, of the spirit, of our call to do more after death was fortified in looking at Sis. Cope in that moment. Because something in me absolutely protested at the thought of Sheila Cope actually just laying still for any amount of time. I knew with a surety that she was very busily running about, talking to people, sharing the gospel, teaching the scriptures, serving people! I knew it! I knew her body was just a mortal shell and her spirit was still busy serving Heavenly Father. Such a clear, distinct impression to me. A hard one to share, because death is so devastating. But in my relatively untouched emotional realm then, that was the thought I had at the side of Sis. Cope's coffin.
One more very hard one, one that has become harder as I've recalled it when looking at my mother-in-law and my own mom and my husband and Bro. Cox and myself. A few days after the funeral, the normal gang gathered at the church to play some late night volleyball. Towards the end of the night, a figure appeared in the doorway of the gym and we all stopped playing to talk to the man. It was Bro. Cope. It was his responsibility to close up the building each night, and there he was a few days after his wife's funeral, just doing his job. That was one thing. The other main thing--man it was hard. I was so young! I couldn't even know what was going on! But I looked at that guy leaned up against the door frame, smiling because he was talking to us, but I just saw a gray outline. His whole soul was visibly broken. I saw it--I saw his shattered heart. I saw him be so sad, I saw him not even really being there, just being there. I saw it then and now I can see it so clearly in my own reflection that that image is so hard. But it was a lesson, again, from Sis. Cope. Her marriage was the most important thing in her and her husband's lives. I could tell by looking at that brokenhearted man leaned up against that door frame, only smiling cus his soul was too devastated to not.
I've thought a lot about all of these things, and thought a lot about them when Billy's dad died. I have Sheila Cope to thank for the gospel knowledge that I learned to love at an early age and so many other lessons on grief and love and service that have helped me see things in a different light, especially when there doesn't seem to be a lot of light to work with. Thank you, thank you, Sis. Cope. I will always be grateful for your friendship and lessons.
Literally, as my best Sunday School teacher. And also in general by the way she lived and treated me and everyone who knew her as her dearest friend. So many moments related to Sheila Cope are so poignant in my mind and have only become more so as I've experienced more of life.
The way she looked, for example. Most everything about Sis. Cope was long. She had a long face with a long, round mouth that smiled a huge smile for a long time because she was always smiling. She had a long frame and wore long skirts and had long eyelashes that fluttered so often with laughter and long fingers with long fake fingernails that pointed out so many valuable scriptures to my young, learning mind. Not long about Sis. Cope? Her beautiful gray hair, which stuck out short, short all over her long head. Which is where my Dad, after recently calling her as his new Relief Society President, answered the phone to her call and said, "Sheila Cope, ya big pineapple head!"
She also had long patience and a long sense of humor, which is why she drew a picture of a big pineapple on our signature bathroom wall after that. No offense taken, Bishop!
So much to say about Sis. Cope! She was, as I said, the best Sunday School teacher I ever had. She taught me things about Nephi's vision, something I had studied countless times before under the tutelage of other very great teachers, that I had never learned before. She made us think, she made us wonder about the gospel and helped us form our own testimonies where other teachers didn't quite know how to let that happen. She knew the scriptures so well. She loved them, too, loved studying them and loved sharing them with our young spirits. Such a great, great gospel teacher.
She sang in some kind of quartet or otherwise and I went to watch her perform one time. She wore a great long, blond wig for her performance and though I can't remember what was going on, it sticks in my mind as something totally ok for her to do because she was fun loving and not easily embarrassed.
And there's another lesson--her lighthearted love. She was so young at heart! So much loud laughter and clever joking and fun willingness. Such a good friend because she was so full of love!
As you can tell from my use of tenses, Sheila Cope is gone now. But even in her death she taught me some of the most valuable and most poignant lessons.
The phone call, for one. I had never been present when news of a death was first shared. But I remember that Christmas break we were in the basement and my mom got a call from Sis. Griggs and it was so solemnly received that I was very scared at first that something had happened to Sarah. But I had never seen my mom so sad. No time to clean up or toughen up before passing the news onto her children. And of course a tough woman like my mom would be sad about news like that, because Sheila Cope was such a dear friend to my tough ol mom. And there is nothing so sad as a sudden, young death like Sis. Cope's. That was indeed a very sad moment and a very important glimpse for me, though I didn't know how much it would help me later, of the tender emotions always present underneath my brave mom's seemingly impenetrable shell.
I remember picturing Sis. Cope in her driveway, shoveling the snow before she died. Of course she was doing something serviceable like that. Of course.
And then more lessons at the funeral. I've grown to like funerals less and less as I've experienced more and more of them, and looking back on that one now, I can see the same misery all over her family member's faces that I know now. I, awkward and young and inexperienced in death, was too shy to approach them, so while my dad did, I went to look in her casket. You know it was crazy. That wasn't the first dead body I'd seen. But I looked in at her laying there and knew instantly that the body before me was nothing more--just a body! My testimony of the resurrection, of the spirit, of our call to do more after death was fortified in looking at Sis. Cope in that moment. Because something in me absolutely protested at the thought of Sheila Cope actually just laying still for any amount of time. I knew with a surety that she was very busily running about, talking to people, sharing the gospel, teaching the scriptures, serving people! I knew it! I knew her body was just a mortal shell and her spirit was still busy serving Heavenly Father. Such a clear, distinct impression to me. A hard one to share, because death is so devastating. But in my relatively untouched emotional realm then, that was the thought I had at the side of Sis. Cope's coffin.
One more very hard one, one that has become harder as I've recalled it when looking at my mother-in-law and my own mom and my husband and Bro. Cox and myself. A few days after the funeral, the normal gang gathered at the church to play some late night volleyball. Towards the end of the night, a figure appeared in the doorway of the gym and we all stopped playing to talk to the man. It was Bro. Cope. It was his responsibility to close up the building each night, and there he was a few days after his wife's funeral, just doing his job. That was one thing. The other main thing--man it was hard. I was so young! I couldn't even know what was going on! But I looked at that guy leaned up against the door frame, smiling because he was talking to us, but I just saw a gray outline. His whole soul was visibly broken. I saw it--I saw his shattered heart. I saw him be so sad, I saw him not even really being there, just being there. I saw it then and now I can see it so clearly in my own reflection that that image is so hard. But it was a lesson, again, from Sis. Cope. Her marriage was the most important thing in her and her husband's lives. I could tell by looking at that brokenhearted man leaned up against that door frame, only smiling cus his soul was too devastated to not.
I've thought a lot about all of these things, and thought a lot about them when Billy's dad died. I have Sheila Cope to thank for the gospel knowledge that I learned to love at an early age and so many other lessons on grief and love and service that have helped me see things in a different light, especially when there doesn't seem to be a lot of light to work with. Thank you, thank you, Sis. Cope. I will always be grateful for your friendship and lessons.
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