“So do you remember the cowbells they gave away at the Atlanta Heart Walk last weekend?” Gloria asked me.
Gloria and I and several of our sisters from the Alpha Delta Kappa sorority had raised money and walked in the American Heart Association 5k on October 30th. If you were there – or within a 5 mile radius – there is no way you could forget the cowbells. We were part of a very large herd of cowbell-wearing fundraisers.
“Of course,” I replied. “My ears are still ringing.”
“We’re having a pep rally at school on Friday and I wanted to give some of my more active 7th grade students something socially acceptable to do.”
“You want to give students who can’t sit still during a pep rally a cowbell to play?” I had taught middle school for seven years, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t hand out cowbells. Ever. “What an…inspired…idea.”
“I’ll probably regret it,” she answered.
“Well….” There was a long drawn out pause. “The problem is that I can’t find the cowbells I collected during the walk.”
“Too bad,” I commiserated. Her colleagues at the middle school would be dancing in the streets if only they knew.
“I think I might have left them in your van. Way in the back.”
“Oh. I’ll look right now. Not a problem,” I answered, propping my phone against my shoulder and opening the door to the van.
Gloria coughed delicately. “They’d be in the white bag we got after the walk. You know, the ones that the free Subway sandwiches were in?”
“Glo-ri-a! It has been more than a week since the Heart Walk. Are you trying to tell me…?”
“I’m afraid so, sweetie,” she answered apologetically. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice the smell before now.”
I held the white bag at arm’s length. It had been wedged next to the back row of seats, and it was ripe. It also jangled. “Your cowbells are in the bag with what used to be a veggie sub, Gloria. I’m not getting them out.”
“Just throw the bag away. Giving cowbells to middle school students is a bad idea anyway,” she replied.
My eyes crossed. “Sometimes you make me nuts, Gloria.”
“I love you too, girl.”