text: It was Autumn I believe, 1971, a long time ago. Almost five decades ago as I write this story. I had just graduated high school in Northern California, so that dreadful part of my life was now behind me. Don’t get me wrong, high school was OK, it was just not the high point of my life filled with great times and lifelong friends. I could not wait to get out into the world. I had a fantastic job at a title company, part time during school and full time in the summers for almost 3 years at that time. I got it because my brother-in-law was an escrow officer/vice-president there. When I graduated, I was making $1.38 an hour. I also drove a powder blue 1967 Mustang Fastback and had a dreamy boyfriend that, while studying to become a policeman at the local junior college, was working for his dad making a whopping $4.50 per hour. All I needed was a pair of glass slippers. It just did not get any better than that. But back to me. I was a brand-new adult and looking fine. Miniskirts and 3-inch block heels were all the rage, and I took advantage of being young and fit. On this particular day I was wearing one of those dresses that was made kind of like an apron with long ties. You put a big loop around your head then wrapped the ties around you a couple of times and finally tying yourself up in a big bow in the back. I think you wore a turtleneck underneath, that part is a bit unclear. But it was the fashion at the time, and you had the Cleopatra thing going on. Looking back on this moment, I was in a perfect storm of self-confidence and a little too much vanity bordering on bigheadedness. But I was only eighteen! I guess I thought I would do a little window shopping that fateful day and decided to go to Rosenberg’s. This was a very nice local department store built in 1937 and was where everyone shopped for quality merchandise. It was also the place where most high school seniors had their graduation pictures taken. The one with the V-drape for the girls. Ah, what memories! Two floors of clothing for the entire family and a mezzanine in between for customer service and gift wrapping. Yes...gift wrapping, another memory of days gone by. It was open Monday through Saturday until 6:00 p.m., Thursday nights until 9:00 p.m. for those who worked, and closed on Sundays. In other words, normal store hours at that time. Not like the 24-hour-a-day seven days a week retail we have now! One more thing about Rosenberg’s that I will always remember is the elevator. Even at that time it was a bit of a dinosaur, other stores having new DIY pushbutton elevators installed or even cooler escalators. The Emporium had just opened a few years earlier in a new mall and it had escalators. But Rosenberg’s had this antique contraption. The elevator continuously carried a dapper young lad dressed in a short red jacket with shiny gold buttons, shoulder epaulets, and a red pillbox hat sitting perfectly square atop his head. He stood ramrod straight just inside the elevator doors at the control panel to smile and greet you. He would politely ask you what floor you desired and then waited the predetermined 10 seconds for anyone else that needed a lift. “Going up.” he would call out, then close the door with a huge lever, locked something, pressed a button and up you went at his masterly control. I kind of took it for granted then, but when I think back, what a treat for me to be able to have that experience. Unfortunately, the older I get, the more of these I have. Telephone operators, party lines, and rotary dial phones to name just a few! Anyway, the elevator and the impeccably dressed operator were both real treasures. Back to shopping. I was on the third floor, looking at clothes. I remember thinking to myself how happy I was and a lot of that came from how good I thought I looked. And I did look good. And if I really want to tell the truth in this story, I wanted everyone else to see how good I looked as well. And now as I think back, there is a slight possibility that my ego, and my head, were getting a tad too big in that moment. Now God has an amazing way of teaching us lessons in life. He has taught me many. Some I am sorry to say He has to teach me over and over again. And it was that day, God decided to take me down a couple of pegs and teach me a lesson. In fact, I can tell you the exact bible verse that He sent my way. Proverbs 16:18. If you are unfamiliar with this verse, you can Google it now or read on and it will all become painfully clear. Back to Rosenberg’s. I was finished looking at all the beautiful clothes and decided it was time to get home for dinner. I headed for the elevator but thought “No, I’m going to take the stairs.” I had visions of Scarlett O’Hara waking down the staircase of Plantation Tara to meet her beloved Rhett Butler. I gripped the handrail and gracefully started down the steps to the Mezzanine. What polish, what style, what poise I embodied as I took a few short steps to the second staircase that led down to the first floor. Now forgive me while I digress a bit to give you a better feel for the layout of this department store. This staircase down to the first floor was immediately next to the elevator, where everyone patiently waited for the dashing operator to open the doors with the gigantic lever. So, there I was, in all my splendor at the top of the staircase looking down to the first floor and the 5 or 6 people waiting for a ride up. Again, I reached out to clutch the handrail and extended my right foot down to the next step. And just as I was about to descend, those dang 3-inch block heels caught the abrasive strip on the stair. And here we are back at Proverbs 16:18 - Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. Did you know that when you take a huge tumble down a full flight of stairs, time really does go in slow motion in your brain? It is God’s honest truth. From the moment my heel caught on that stair, my world switched to slow motion. I felt myself go head over 3-inch heels into a very unattractive somersault. A-l-l v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y. I tried desperately to reach out for the handrail, but I could not get to it. I then completed yet another somersault and was finally at the bottom of the staircase. I landed on my back, my head higher than my feet. My arms were outstretched at my sides, my mini-Cleopatra dress up around my neck and my legs...well, let’s not go there. Let me just say it was a very unladylike position in which to be laying on the floor in a crowded upscale department story in the late afternoon in your small hometown. Now it is very hard to describe time right at this moment. It was like it had gone from slow motion to now standing still. As I was laying there, I could plainly see the faces of all the people waiting for the elevator. I still dream about them to this day. Faces of shock and dismay. They truly could not believe what they had just witnessed. They were all frozen in time...as was I. Then time miraculously restarted, and a store employee came rushing over to me to see if I was injured and the elevator waiters all began to whisper. “Are you alright? Don’t move. Someone please call a doctor.” “I’m fine” I responded. “Really, I am fine.” And I tried to get up. The store employee tried everything to get me to stay there and get checked by a medical professional. I must have looked at her like she was some sort of lunatic. I thought “Really...you want me to stay here in front of all these people after the show I just put on?” NO... I had absolutely no desire to stay there, sprawled on the floor of Rosenberg’s, right next to the elevator and really close to the jewelry counter, where a 50% off diamond earrings sale was going on. Not one more minute...not one more second. Now let me just say that I took a very nasty fall off of a motorcycle when I was 48 years old and I can say with maximum surety that 48-year-old bodies DO NOT bounce on hard surfaces nearly as good as an 18-year-old body does. Even after two somersaults, I really was totally unhurt...well, my body was unhurt. Amazingly enough I got up, adjusted my clothing, dusted myself off, promised everyone I was fine and got the heck out of that store. But you can assure yourself that what was mortally wounded that day was my ego. If you know me now or knew me back in the day, I pray you never saw me as a person with a huge ego. I have never thought I was better than anyone else, strutting myself around like my poop did not have an odor. I have had the displeasure of running into people like that in my life and I can tell you I am not very fond of them. As I said earlier, it was just some happy thoughts going through my head at a time when all things had come together for me. And I was feeling...as my mother would say “A bit cocky”. And after this horrible day, I have always tried to keep feelings like that at bay. I really do not need God to teach me that lesson again. And if I do need a lesson in humility, I pray I do not have to fall down a staircase, because 70 years old bodies do not bounce at all...so I am told! I lowered my head, found my purse, and left Rosenberg’s vowing under my breath to throw away these shoes and this dress the moment I got home and took them off. I got into my powder blue Mustang and drove home. I do not remember crying at all. I was probably laughing hysterically. I do not remember telling my parents about it, but I must have. I do, however, remember telling my dreamy boyfriend about it and we had a good laugh together. Oh, by the way, I married him in June of 1972, and we are still laughing to this day. I don’t think I went back into Rosenberg’s for a long, long time.