Worth Admiring

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks 2026 - Week 1

In 7th grade, we had class in temporary buildings by the ball field, over on the high school campus. After lunch in the big cafeteria, we hung around in the hallway watching the older kids come and go. If they seemed receptive, we said hi.

I guess it was our way of admiring all of them. They seemed grown-up and sophisticated.

One senior always smiled back, usually looking just a little puzzled, like, who are you? She had long brown hair—so pretty. She was short like me, and that was cool. Then there was her smile, soft, faraway. Was she tired? I thought maybe so.

She married a boy from my cousin’s class, and when they became our scout leaders, I found out her name was Pam.

Scouts was fun. Not to brag, but I used to tie a double half hitch in no time flat.

Their house was a few blocks away from campus. She invited me over: “Just come on by any time.” I liked to walk there after school and have Dad pick me up when he got off work.

We spent afternoons in her kitchen, cooking and chatting. She listened intently, and when she spoke, she didn’t treat me like a child.

Her husband called her “My Girl.” One time they told me the story of how they met. It was a little embarrassing. I mean, you know, mushy mushy.

One day she told me she was going to have a baby. For the next few months she was pretty sick, and those tired smiles from 7th grade finally made sense. She said it was this thing where your body attacks itself.

I lost contact when I left for college, but I saw them again years later. He still called her “My Girl.” They had a house full of adopted kids, some with special needs. And she listened to each one, the same way she used to listen to me when I was a teenager.

Back in 7th grade, I didn’t know her name. I didn’t know her career plans. I didn’t imagine a house full of children who needed exactly that kind of attention.

All I knew was that when I said hi, Pam noticed me.

It turns out that was worth admiring.