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Cherry Ames, Flight Nurse

by Helen Wells (1945)
Cherry Ames, Flight Nurse

Lieutenant Cherry Ames, of the Army Nurse Corps, training at Randolph Field, Texas, to become a flight nurse, decided to take time out, this hot September morning, for a coke.

In the PX — the post exchange — Cherry ran into her old friend Ann Evans. Ann, looking pale, was buying cigarettes.

“Why, Annie, you don’t smoke!” Cherry protested.

“No, but my pilot does,” Ann replied grimly. “We made a pact. Anyone who gets airsick on training flights has to buy the crew chief a carton of cigarettes. Not only am I flipsy-flopsy in the stomach — I’m going broke!”

Cherry grinned. “You’ll outgrow it as I did. Come on over here to the soda fountain and have a cup of tea.”

I Can Swing My Apples

Zoë: Listen, Dad, I can swing my apples. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

Me: “Swing your apples?”

Zoë: Yeah, I can swing my apples. Listen. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

Me: Do you mean “roll your Rs?”

Zoë: Yeah. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

When Life Gives You Lemons…

“…ask for a Diet Coke to put them in. That way, at least you’ll have a decent beverage for your descent into Hell.”

— Grettir Asmundarson

The last three-and-a-half years have honestly been the worst years of my semi-long and rather pathetic life. I guess the disintegration of a marriage has a way of doing that to you, and the disintegration of mine has been like watching a three-and-a-half-year-long train wreck happening in slow motion. You know what’s going to happen in the end, you can see it happening right in front of you, but no matter how much you don’t want it to happen or how hard you try to keep it from happening, it’s going to happen anyway. And now comes the really unpleasant part. It’s time to notify the next-of-kin.

Within the next week or so, I’ll have the opportunity to sit down with my two little girls and explain to them that their mother and I are getting divorced. The thought of it makes me want to gouge out my eyes with a melon baller, but instead I will sit there with a straight face and say all of the reassuring things that books about divorce tell you to say to your kids so they won’t notice that what you’re really doing is ripping the rug right out from under their little feet.

We’ll explain it to them in such a way that no one is to blame and everybody wins. “This is best thing in the world! Your Mom and Dad get to pursue their lives as fully self-actualized human beings and you kids will have two bedrooms to decorate. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Then we’ll have the legal niceties. Since we are fairly rational, intelligent human beings, there will be blessed few points of legal contention, but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier. For instance, I will get to sit in a mediator’s office and make contingency plans about how we will divide time with the girls if one of us moves out of state.

That means I get to negotiate for the privilege of not having my daughters in my life for six months out of the year. But, which six months of the year do I not want to tuck them in? Which six months of the year do I not want to order pizza and pop microwave popcorn with them and watch “Swiss Family Robinson” for the thirtieth time? And which six months of the year will I not get to intervene in an argument between the two of them and say, “You girls are going to be sisters for the rest of your lives. You need to learn to work these things out. What? Why did your Mom and I get divorced? Oh, we had irreconcilable differences.”

But it’s not all bad, right? I’m learning important life lessons, right? Well, I’ll tell you the important life lessons I’ve learned:

  • Even though there have been times when things have been so bad that I honestly didn’t think my heart could bear it one second longer, it did bear it one second longer…and then another…and then a minute…and then an hour…and then a year…and the pain was still there…and my heart was still beating…and I don’t know whether to be grateful for or appalled by the fact that, no matter how bad it gets, you get by.

  • I will never, in this lifetime, comprehend the complexities of the human heart.


Along the same lines…

Cherry Ames, Chief Nurse

by Helen Wells (1944)
Cherry Ames, Chief Nurse

Cherry Ames stood under a palm tree somewhere in the Pacific, the day after Christmas. The officer who had just helped her off the plane said, “Stay here in the shade. Now if you will please excuse me for a minute — ” and walked away. Cherry watched him go and squinted through the heat haze at the parked Army bomber which had brought her here this afternoon. “Of all places for me to be spending Christmas!” she thought. “I’ve crossed the international date line and lost a day, so I’ll count today Christmas. But of all the un-Christmas-y places! I’ve read about romantic tropic isles, but I never thought I’d get to one this way!”

She pulled down the trim jacket of her nurse’s olive drab uniform, and set the jaunty cap more firmly on her black curls. Cherry’s eyes were black too, large and sparkling, thoughtful but full of fun — brilliant red cheeks and lips and a warmhearted smile lived up to the lively promise of those eyes. She knew perfectly well, of course, that a nurse, and especially an Army nurse, can, in the course of duty, nonchalantly pop up in any corner of the world. “But I wish,” she thought, “that someone would kindly tell me what I’m here for!”

Cherry Ames, Army Nurse

by Helen Wells (1944)
Cherry Ames, Army Nurse

“Cherry! Cher-ry! Come Quick! It’s here!”

A sparkling, dark-haired girl suddenly popped out on the upstairs landing and hung over the staircase. Her cheeks were as red as her sweater and her black eyes shone with excitement. She took one look at her mother, gingerly holding up an envelope; another at her young friend Midge, hopping up and down with a strange lack of dignity for a fifteen-year-old.

That’s — it!” Midge cried. “Hurry up!”

Cherry swooped down the stairs and seized the official-looking envelope.

“What does it say?” Midge begged. Mrs. Ames, too, was trying to glimpse the letter over Cherry’s shoulder.

“Here,” Cherry said, absorbed, and allowed Midge to hold the empty envelope.

Midge read aloud the address in the left-hand corner with awe in her voice, “‘War Department, Official Business.’ Jiminy!”

“What does it say?” Mrs. Ames echoed Midge. She was a small, youthful, brown-eyed woman.

Cherry looked up and grinned. “This is what I’ve been waiting for every day of this two weeks’ vacation! Harumph! You will please stand at attention while I read it to you.” Cherry herself stood erect and read earnestly:

“By direction of the President, Cherry Ames is with her consent ordered to active duty with the Army of the United States, and assigned to the hospital unit as indicated…” On graduating, Cherry had signed up with her whole nursing class to serve in the Army Nurse Corps. She already had indicated that she was available immediately and willing to serve overseas, and had sent her photo, application, school record and State Board Examination record. Cherry took a deep breath and hurried on, “…and will proceed on 21 September this year to station specified for temporary duty pending activation Spencer Gen. unit.”

There was another notice, too. “You are ordered to report to the Service Command at Wabash City…for Army physical examination!” … “Oh, gosh!” exclaimed Cherry.

“You have to weigh at least a hundred pounds and a lot of other things,” Midge warned her.

“She’ll pass,” Mrs. Ames said, smiling at Cherry, “even the Army’s rigid examination.” Cherry’s red cheeks and lips, her shining dark eyes, her eager, lively, pretty face, even her dancing black curls, fairly radiated vitality. She sparkled with youth and high spirits.