35. Mistaken Identity

                         Friends learn from each other and laugh with each other.

Eleanor Morgan, my best friend in college was tall, blond, and sophisticated from a Michigan resort city. I had brownish hair, was short and naïve, perhaps because I grew up in a small Illinois town surrounded by corn fields. We met when we were assigned next door rooms as freshmen. We were journalism majors and ended up joining the same sorority. After graduation we shared an apartment for a year until she married the young lawyer I introduced to her. A few years later when I was married and about to have a baby, she let me give a bath to her own baby for practice. A true friend.

      Once when we were taking a large reporting class I had to be absent. The instructor passed a sign up sheet to track attendance. A tiny part of our grade would be based on that. I asked Eleanor if she would mind signing my name to the sheet. She agreed, knowing I would do the same for her when necessary.

      Later, she told me, “I was sitting there, thinking about how I could disguise my handwriting. Perhaps I'd use my left hand to write 'Ann Fox'. But then the clip sheet came to me. I remembered Professor Scher stressing the importance of honesty and integrity in reporting. And I just couldn't do it.” She signed her own name and passed the clip board to the next person.
      I was chagrined. “You did the right thing. I apologize for even asking you to do it.” I was glad she had kept both of us honest.
      We shared many other experiences, including one we'll never forget, which also involved our names.
      One cold Wednesday night, our sorority and the Alpha Phis, another nearby sorority, had an exchange dinner. Eleanor and I were in the group assigned to go over to the other house.
      We bundled up in our winter coats and with our other 'sisters' hustled over to the host sorority. As we climbed the stone steps to the paneled oak door, Eleanor was first in line and I was right behind her. She rang the bell and the door swung open to their house mother. Eleanor explained later that she was rehearsing in her mind how she would introduce herself and then introduce me.
      She smiled, reached out to shake hands and introduced herself, “How do you do, I'm Amy Fox.” She continued, turning to me, “and this is...”
      A jolt of electricity swept through my brain. In milliseconds I thought, Now what? Should I cover up for Eleanor and introduce myself as Eleanor Morgan? But then I'll have to go through the whole evening using that name.
      Eleanor's face was turning bright pink.
      I stuck out my hand for handshaking, laughed and said, “No, she's not. I'm Ann Fox, she's Eleanor Morgan.” We've laughed over that story many, many times.
                                                          The End