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Remembering our Mentors

Written by dcrelief on

A Mentor Remembered: Professor Charles Hickman When I was a little girl I didn’t really know what I was. My boundaries of life were put in place by others. Boys didn’t play with little girls. Big girls didn’t play with little girls. There were no other little girls in my neighborhood; the closest lived across the big highway. I would see them at school during the year, but come summer they played in a park I could not reach from across the highway.My Mom ran a nursery of one infant, three toddlers, plus three school- aged children of her own. There shouldn’t have been any reason to get lonely, you think? Don’t little girls help baby-sit? No that’s a job for big girls. There were tons of boys around so my two brothers were gone most of the day. I needed a friend and created a mission to find one.

Most of the Moms in the neighborhood stayed home during that time. I knocked on all the doors of every one trying to find someone who wanted to play. Seems most of my brothers’ friends had big sisters, but what did high school and college girls have in common with little girls other than the love of the color pink? Nothing. I became familiar with every street, could ride my bike for hours, and stopped going to the edge of the highway; it was no longer worth the pain to watch from afar.

One day I was riding down my favorite street, Beechnut, with my hands and arms over my head flying. I loved going fast. Suddenly on my left there appeared a garden, but not just any garden. My Mom had a vegetable garden, but this one had flowers I had never seen. Small grassy pathways wound all through it. I almost threw myself off of the bike, hitting the brakes so hard.No one appeared to be home so I made a bold and rather impolite decision to explore this beautiful landscape that went on and on. I went over to see if some very tall lavender flowers had a scent, and realized I was looking over a hedge that bordered my home! How long had this luscious scenery been here? Yes that’s the word… luscious.Being a little girl was a bit tough and if that was my excuse for visiting that garden every day then I figured it was a good reason. That and after all it was wonderful there. I thought it could be heaven. Little girls have dreams you know? School had become a struggle as I waited for the day to end so I could beat a path to the garden; my secret. I told no one. I even began to make my own path through the woods in our backyard to connect to it. It got me ‘caught’ but I didn’t take that into consideration as I built it. Hey, think: ‘little seven year old girl’.

One day my Mom called me over to the entry of the garden right at the hedge, “Dixie, come here and meet someone. I think the two of you will get along just find. In fact you already have something in common.” She stood next to a white haired man who could easily be my Grandfather; and yep, I was definitely caught. “Professor Hickman,” she said, “this is my daughter Dixie. Dixie, meet Professor Hickman. He teaches at Queens College… an old girls’ school.”

It was empathy at first sight! Imagine he was around girls all of the time, while I got stuck with boys. Even at seven years old, the irony was not wasted. Slowly the summer flowers began to die and fall’s gifts were peeking out ready to blossom. A pumpkin patch proved unruly and got nominated for a new location in the coming year. There was always something growing in Professor Hickman’s garden. Long before I knew the word mentor, I felt a certain kinship to this gentle man. He helped me choose three years of science projects. We even cross-pollinated tulips! I had the most beautiful pink and yellow tulips… and won first prize… a very large science book!

At nine years, eleven months and 22 days old I stood outside staring blankly, I’m sure, into the fog. It was a chilly day in November, and the television was full of news that President Kennedy had died. I was outside hoping something would help ease the pain I felt. Oh not about the President; I didn’t know him, but Professor Hickman died the day before on the 21st. I walked just to the garden entry, joined to my yard, but my heart would not let me cross. The garden was weeping and I could feel its loss. I was home from school because of a tonsillectomy. I could not cry; I could not scream, though my soul longed to pour out my simple sadness. I would be ten tomorrow, the 23^rd, and felt that maybe I needed to become a big girl now.

Our family dog sat on top of his doghouse and I guess he sensed my feelings. He turned and gave me a low howl. I climbed on the roof and sat behind him, as we often pretended to fly to worlds unknown and explore the things beyond the clouds. We circled overhead and looked down on the garden; the bushes and trees waved at us; the vines of the pumpkin spelled out “l-o-v-e-y-o-u.” I opened my eyes and we were back in the yard. The clouds began to clear and a small ray of sunlight touched where the tulip garden was planted. I would get past this… and there was no rush to grow up faster. That was the thing the Professor had told me to avoid: “Now Dixie,” he once spoke, “Your life is like this tiny seed; give it plenty of time and tend it carefully, and you’ll see some wonderful things happen.”

On the 23^rd of November I awoke feeling good, but then came the thought, 'Oh no, he won’t be there,' invaded my mind. I hurried to dress and went outside and waved at the clouds. I was still a little girl and thought that maybe he would see me wave. A man was standing at the garden entry, “Excuse me, and are you Dixie?” I nodded yes. “Well my name is Professor Hickman. You were very good friends with my Dad and he left this envelope for you. I don’t know what is in it, but it’s something he wanted you to have. Okay?”

“Thank you.” I was a bit shocked and surprised to know that there was another Professor Hickman; I hadn’t had time to think about the large envelope he was handing me. “I know you’ll miss him; I do.”

“Thank you and you can come over to the garden any time and stay as long as you like.” He shook my hand and then he left.In the house I opened the envelope eager to see what was there. A nice long letter… just what I really wanted… you know; parting words? And there were all of these seeds for everything from apple trees to zucchini. Bulbs from overseas, and what a collection that needed to be planted now.

I grabbed my red wagon and little tool bag and headed out to find a spot for it all. I was so excited I looked up into the trees and shouted, “Thank you Professor Hickman!”I was a bit shocked to hear an answer, “You’re welcome.” The Professor’s son was in the garden!

At thirteen years I watched as a girl moved into the neighborhood. We hit if off well and stayed close for twenty years. It was hard to watch the garden go down with no one to dress and keep it. It was overwhelming for me. Finally the path was blocked with vines and I engaged in big girl life.

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