THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 17, 1994 TAG: 9407140200
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 54 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Ron Speer
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
As we wind our way through life, certain people play key roles. Parents primarily, of course, but teachers and preachers are often people who have made our world a wonderful place.
The teacher who did the most for me was Miss McAllister (I don't think I ever knew her first name). In a one-room schoolhouse in Nebraska when I was in the eighth grade, Miss McAllister taught me that learning was fun.
She wasn't fun. She was sort of threatening. But she made reading and writing and arithmetic exciting. A six-footer built like a tight end, she was a no-nonsense teacher who knew why we were there - so I and the other ranchers' kids could learn. And learn we did. It's been 48 years now, but I can still recall the hush that fell over the classroom - crammed with kids in all of the elementary grades - when she read passages from John Hershey's chilling book, ``Hiroshima.'' The horror of the first atomic bomb leaped off the pages as she read. Heavy stuff for grade-school kids, but Miss McAllister brought history alive.
The preacher who left an impact stronger than anyone else was P.C. ``Buddy'' Ennis, at a Presbyterian church in Atlanta, when the South was afire in the '60s. It wasn't easy being a white Christian in those days when Bull Connor and his ilk were in charge and clubbing demonstrators, but Buddy was. He led us out onto the streets to show our faith. He made us get involved. And sometimes, when we both were depressed, we would get in a boat and cruise Lake Lanier until we were revived and eager to get back into the fray. I moved on, and he opened a downtown health clinic operated by church volunteers, and ran a shelter for the homeless with volunteers' help. Buddy Ennis convinced me that some Christians do practice what they preach - and preach he could. I'd give almost anything to hear him today.
And now, on the Outer Banks, I've met another person who came as a stranger into my life and made it better.
She's a nurse, and nobody can bring tranquility to your life when you're ailing better than a good nurse. Laurie White is a good nurse.
I've only known her for two weeks but I'd put my fate in her hands and never worry.
Morning and night she has been coming to take care of me as a home-care patient while I recover from surgery on . . . well, where I'd be wounded if I turned coward in a war and fled from the enemy on my hands and knees.
Not exactly the most exciting of assignments for a nurse, but on each visit she acts like she enjoys her work.
Black-haired, with sparkling eyes, she would be a perfect model for a recruiting poster for the profession. And her hands - unlike those of too many nurses - are gentle, as soft as drifting dandelions.
Laurie White is the kind of nurse who makes patients want to get well just to please her.
She's patient, shares her findings on every visit, and has taken most of the sting out of a nasty abcess.
Nurse White has been on the Outer Banks for five years, and lives in Colington Harbour with her husband, Leighton, and their children, Jessica, 13, and Amy, 12.
For the past couple of years she has been working for Int-Rim Health Care, but soon she'll be joining the Dare County Health Department as a clinic nurse.
``I like to work with people,'' she says. ``And as clinic nurse, I'll be able to do that.''
Since I'm about healed, Laurie White and I will soon part ways. But meeting someone like her has almost made my wound worthwhile.
I hope if any of you get sick, Laurie White or someone with her skills will be there to take care of you.
Like good teachers and good preachers, nurses like Laurie White are special people. by CNB