(Editor’s note: We proudly are reprinting Ferndale Enterprise columnist Wendy Lestina’s prize-winning column from the November 17, 2017 edition. Lestina placed first in the 2017 California News Publishers Association (CNPA) California Journalism Awards. Her award was announced on Saturday at the CNPA Press Summit, held in Sonoma.)
Mother Pewsitter and I both have January birthdays. About ten years ago, my sister Candace decided we should celebrate jointly at a family dinner (the three of us, plus John). Candace suggested we go to the restaurant at Cher-Ae Heights and sit by a window overlooking the ocean.
As MP and I were the honorees, we took the window-side seats, facing each other; Candace and John had the aisle.
I no longer can recall the origin of the conversation I was having with my mother. It was semi-private, as John, who doesn’t hear well, was talking with Candace, who was not the designated driver.
For years, I’d occasionally teased my mother about her relationship with my father. They’d dated for four years, 1938-1942, while he attended law school at UC Berkeley and she worked as a nurse in an Oakland hospital. When they first met, she was 24 and he was 22.
[For more of this story go to http://www.ferndaleenterprise....ew-by-wendy-lestina/]
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