At Home, part 30

Clarice Scarritt and Huibrecht Kruger and I had made an offer to the school principal. “We’d like to be a committee to welcome any new families to the school in the fall,” Clarice told her. “It can be a little hard coming in, and we’d like to help them.” The principal had agreed, and we gave her our phone numbers so she could refer newcomers to us.

The first call we got, early in July, was from Lorraine Liepmann. “Ms. Franco told me to get in touch with you,” she said. “We’re just coming in from Puerto Rico. My husband works for Abbott Labs.”

“That’s great!” I said. “I’m going to have to put you off for a week—my sister and her family are just coming to visit. Her husband works for a drug company, too.”

Lorraine was understanding, and we made plans to get together when I got back. Six months later, when we were all close friends, we laughed about what a great welcoming committee we had been. “We invited you over with your kids,” I told Lorraine, “and you came, and we had fun, and then we said, ‘What time should we be at your house tomorrow?’” That was how easily the Liepmanns fit into the group. Lorraine was a Chinese-American from California, an elementary school teacher. Her husband, Holger, was German, and they had three kids—Erik, who was going into 9th grade; Kirsten, who was Julie’s age; and Claire, who was Lisa’s age. Though we were sorry we didn’t have a match for Erik, we were ecstatic at how well all the girls got along.

This started me off on another dimension of bliss. I had always wanted to be in a group composed of a few families that were compatible and could help each other—the kind of thing where all the kids would be happy to be at any of the houses, so you could stand in for one of the other mothers anytime, and she could stand in for you. I had that for the next year, with the Scarritts and the Krugers and the Liepmanns, and with other families that we came to know. I felt I was part of something wonderful.