Ferlis Haddidistori... Wait. What?

 

Years ago, when I first moved back to my home town, I taught English and French in a garage behind a small community school in a lovely town a few miles away. It was wonderful, and ... for a few weeks before they cut a man door, the students and I had what we called natural air-conditioning. We also had flies and assorted other bugs that would hang out a bit. (I never did get a chalk board or a teacher's desk. It didn't seem to matter at the time. Another teacher (Thelma) taught Math on the other side of the wall separating the two halves of the garage. Thelma and I were considered overflow from the main building. It was cozy. We even had a garage heater. It was a fun and a unique part of my teaching career.)  Anyway -- I spent mornings there – two classes of English -- one of 9 students and one of 14) and one even smaller class of French. Then lunch.  Lunch, by the way, was homemade – including the most delicious soups and pies one could imagine. People called the cook "Ma". She was wonderful. Oh... and lunch was served on real plates with real silverware. No plastic. (Those were the blessed "pre-popularity of Styrofoam" days.) Then after lunch I traveled to another school within the district – a good placement, but not nearly as fun. 

The thing is – during those garage days, I met a woman who was one of those special people.  She worked in the actual school building -- a large two-story brick structure that housed k-12. She was also an English teacher, but one with way more experience. She was also "gifted" with quite an unusual and memorable (some might say "harmlessly twisted) sense of humor.  For example, she introduced herself to me as “Lucy”.  I found out months later that her name was really “Mary” … much to my surprise … and a bit of harmless humiliation.  She also stealthily placed homemade bread on the passenger side front seat of my car from time to time, and it was literally years before I knew where those loaves came from.  Unfortunately for those of us who knew her, she passed away -- way too young.

I dreamt about her this morning.  She was sitting in a restaurant with a bunch of other teachers from my past and she looked wonderful.  In my dream I didn’t remember that she was gone.  Anyway – I went over to talk with her, and in the course of conversation, asked her what she was reading these days and she gave me a name that I would love to be able to remember.  I spent the rest of the dream trying to remember it so that, when I woke up,  I could look up the author to see if it were a real name. You see, it was one of those dreams (early morning) when you know you are dreaming.  Of course, the name was a multisyllabic and complicated name -- seeming to be, perhaps, of some mysterious foreign origin.  It was something like Ferlis Haddidistori….  Even though I kept spelling it in my head as I finished the dream, I did not manage to remember it. Drat that.

Anyway -- I Googled variations of the name as soon as I got up. I mean – what if it were really an author’s name?  How weird would that be? And how fun. Did you know that you can Google authors with last names that start with H?  You can. No luck. (I did find some interesting books about an architect named Zaha Hadid though -- so there is that.)

I can’t help but wonder if Lucy/Mary is messing with me from another plane of existence.  It would be like her to do something like that.  I am okay with it. Totally okay.  By the way, if you are aware of any fiction authors with names similar to Ferlis Haddidistori, please let me know.  Thanks.