A Love Story

The other day during dinner, my daughter announced, “I have a boyfriend.”

Even though she’s only eight, my husband immediately got a panicked look on his face. “What do you mean a boyfriend.”

Daughter rolled her eyes. Funny how at third grade she already has this move perfected. “You know, Daddy. A boy who loves me.”

“I’m sure you don’t mean he loves you,” I told her.

“Oh, but he does. You see I was running on recess and he was running too. We ran into each and fell on the ground. As soon as we got up, we looked at each and...” she paused for drama as she put a hand to her heart”…it was true love.”

I should point out that my daughter has a speech delay so it came out as “Trew lub.”

By this point my husband was so worked up I thought he was going to piss kittens. “You’re too young for true love,” he argued.

“Oh, but Daddy it is,” she sighed.

“What’s his name?” I asked, as I got up to pour my husband a strong drink.

Daughter scrunched up her face. “I don’t know his name. I just call him Bad Boy because he’s always in trouble. That’s okay though, because all girls like the bad boys.”

I poured my husband a double.

The love affair lasted a whole week before there was trouble. Daughter came home from school, threw her backpack down, then fell back on the couch in a dramatic fashion that would have made Scarlett O’Hara proud. “I had the most terrible of days.”

“Really, what happened? Did they run out of your favorite ice cream bars again?” I barely looked up from my computer, because quite frankly there is always tragedy where she is concerned. I’d be worried if she didn’t come home with tale of woe.

“Bad Boy and I broke up!”

Now that did get attention. After all it’s not every day “trew lub” is thwarted. “Why? How? When?”

“We both got in trouble in recess line for talking. I told him it was his fault. He told me it was mine. Then we got mad and broke up.”

Now I was the one panicking. How should I help her get over this loss? Do I get her ice cream? Chocolate? A sappy chick flick? “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I think so. After all, there are way more boys in my class than girls. I think I’ll start searching for a new boyfriend tomorrow.”

“Another bad boy?”

“Nah, I think maybe this time, I’ll pick someone who is more quiet and doesn’t get in trouble all the time.”

True to her word, the next day she had a new boy in her life. I met him at the class Valentine’s Day party. She was right, he is nice, quiet and totally under her control. I wonder how long this love affair will last?

-Stephani Hecht

My Family

By-Stephani Hecht



Yesterday I had to go to a wedding shower for my cousin’s fiancé. Now, I’m not a big fan of showers, but I would do anything for Mike. Even play cheesy games, fawn over gifts and make nice with others. The one huge silver lining is I got to get together with the females from my family.

My family is close. Most of us live within blocks of each other and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friends growing up were my cousins and now our kids are best friends. I know that no matter what, my family will be there for me.

The “family” started with four sisters. Vera was the oldest, followed by Lonnie Kay, Donna and then , my mother, Barb. Grandpa worked at the railroad until he passed away when my mother was still young. Grandma never faltered, she took on housecleaning jobs and struggled to raise four girls on her own. She did a damn good job too. Even today she is the strength that holds our family together.

As the sisters grew up and had children, our family grew and grew and grew. I still remember that horrible day Grandma had a heart attack and we almost lost her. Every family member dropped everything and hurried to the hospital. As she was rushed into emergency surgery we gathered in a large waiting room. We huddled together, crying and trying to lend each other support. Finally, the surgeon came in.

“Who’s with Jane?” he asked.

The entire waiting room responded, “We are.”

The expression on the doctor’s face was priceless as he looked over all of us. It must not be everyday that a family fills up the entire waiting room. What he didn’t know was we had left all the youngest at home, so there were even more of us. But then he didn’t understand our family. Of course we would be there for Grandma. How could we not be? She’s the one who sewed our dance costumes. The one who took us out shopping and to lunch. The one who dried our tears when we didn’t make the cheerleading squad.

Years ago, the youngest generation dubbed her, Great-Grandma-Golden-Girl. She still has that unfortunate name and she beams whenever she hears it. She continues to try to take care of us, even as we step forward to take care of her. My son calls her every night to check up on her, the guys always make sure her cable and internet is hooked up, and my aunt takes her grocery shopping every week.

She deserves all the special attention. Heck, she should be treated like a queen. She earned that right a long time ago, because no one is more special than Great-Grandma-Golden-Girl.