Lessons in Yes

What do you do when you arrive at an intersection where caution and adventure hold equal sway? Choose the unknown—especially if it comes with a car and a cup of coffee. Say Yes.

I first learned that lesson when I sat down with my parents in 1968 to discuss college. I had aspirations of becoming a biophysicist. I don’t know where that came from. Although I liked science, I really wanted to be an artist.

“You can’t be an artist,” Mom had said. Raised during the Great Depression, my parents were practical. Dad was a fireman with a few side jobs, and Mom was a nurse. “Be a teacher. Then, if you want, you can be an artist.” So I said Yes, I would be a biology teacher, because that meant I could go to college. And I really wanted to do that.

But money was tight. The second-oldest of six kids, I’d already worked as a babysitter, a thread-trimmer in an apron factory, and a cashier. So my parents laid out my options. I could live at home and commute to one of the local universities, or go to Danbury State—a teacher’s college—and live with Aunt Jeanne. They’d buy me a car.

Hello, Aunt Jeanne.

Since that day, I’ve navigated my life by saying Yes to unknown adventures.

Like on the morning of freshman orientation. In scary canyons of yet-unlearned truths, I was alone until a perky, freckled, and bespeckled strawberry blonde hailed me in what became our signature greeting.

“Hi, Patti,” she said. “I’m Patty.” She was on way her way to meet her boyfriend Ron for coffee. “Want to come?”

It’s hard to say No when Patty twinkles up, bats her eyes, and jiggles her shoulders. “Come on,” the gesture commands. Mischief is promised—refusal is taboo.

Ever since that first invitation, no matter what adventure she suggested, I said Yes. Almost always, they started with coffee.

Over of coffee, we learned about life, even when it got complicated. Especially when it got complicated. And it got complicated quickly. Patty and Ron got married, Michele was born, and Ron joined the army to support his family. His stint in Vietnam messed him up. But he was determined to make it. And Patty was determined to make it with him. If for no other reason than to prove she could. They left. I stayed.

I, too, fell in love with a Ron. My college beau was handsome, smart, and funny. And, of course, he came with a car—a red MG—and a green Harley Davidson. With dyed-blonde hair streaming in the wind, I boldly said Yes, especially when he proposed marriage. And then he was run over by an 18-wheeler.

Life doesn’t wait for answers. And love waits for nothing.

I did not become a biology teacher, although I did teach English for a while. Eventually I became an artist. And an education consultant. And a project manager. And an editor. And a writer. All because college groomed me to choose the unknown, especially if it comes with a car and coffee.