Open letters to my high school and family

Dear Family:

I. LOVE. YOU. Liz... Jan..., I know I approached you like a tornado approaches a trailer park. I came with almost no warning and POUNCED you with the idea that I should "launch" my book from none other than Deming High School. Here is where I blinked. TWICE, maybe. Before I knew it, you had arranged an event that had me holding a microphone in front of a class of creative writing students, several faculty, your social studies/NM history/art/AP/thingamawhatty students to tell them how I like to simultaneously embarrass myself and be my own best friend. Irene, you jumped in as my accountant/publicist/bouncer/speech coach and personal assistant who taps her watch and mouths words from across the room to remind me that I am wandering like a lost kitty in the streets of downtown Las Vegas. Mom, you called my wonderful aunties who all showed up to the mixer afterward and made me cry like a newborn. Aunties, you took pictures and gushed over me like I was said newborn. And, coincidentally, shared childbirth stories with me. Toni and Jonah, you helped Auntie Irene organize the people who wanted a book signed. And you sat there and LISTENED to Mom's speech for, what, the fifty-fifth time? That's medal-of-worthy in some countries. Sweet brother and Ashley, you read my book in two days. Uncle Larry, you read it just as quickly and wrote me the most beautiful email. Thank you all so much for puffing up my face and making my tear ducts ache for three days.

Yours forever,
C

Onto my high school.

Dear Deming High School:

As my daughter would say, you guys are the bomb-diggity. Somehow that just doesn't sound as cool coming out of my blogmouth, but what I'm trying to say is, THANKS. To Ms. Ayon's first hour class, you will always hold a special place in my heart. You were the absolutely first people NOT related to me to hear me talk about Rosetta Stones at length. If you freaked out during my brain cramps, you kept it well hidden. Luis, you need to consider stand-up comedy. Or therapy. You really HELPED ME. And so because of you guys, I felt lots more prepared for THE LIBRARY. The library people came in waves until we ran out of seats and several of you were forced to sit on the floor. If a cell phone rang in that room, while I began to read an excerpt from my book, nary did I hear a single vibration. You gave fabulous eye contact. You laughed at almost all of the appropriate places. And when I began my spiel, not a single one of you raised your hand at the end and asked an off-the-wall question of me, like, was Ms. Ayon born that way? By the way, yes, she was. She has always been righteously awesome. Anyway, thank you for your undivided attention. Thank you for not booing or shooting foreign objects. For those that sat so close you could count my nose hairs, thank you for not cringing. I didn't think I would ever say this about high school, but you guys made me want to come back again. Maybe for a day. So THANK YOU. Mr. Wilkin, lunch is on me next time.

Beyond Impressed With Your Goodness,

Mrs. Kriegel's and Ms. Ayon's Humble Servant