Do Your Socks Match?

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Susan Dromey Heeter photo



Is it not glorious to watch preparedness in action – those little bowls of ingredients on a cooking show, mothers with packed diaper bags, Adam Schiff and Hakeem Jeffries with testimony written so meticulously it stuns in comparison to that other guy’s Twitter rants?  

I muse joyfully this week on the power of preparedness, the glory of thinking things through, the joy in knowing, “hey, I’m ready for anything.”

My friend, Marybeth, calls herself the “Queen of Preparedness.”  She prepares coffee the night before, wakes to the brilliant aroma of hot java, packs her own breakfast and lunch and “always arrives on time.”  She notes that women’s gloves are not warm enough so she finds small work leather gloves that keep her hands warm and just showed me her old lady hat which sports a visor to “keep her glasses dry in the rain”  and is entirely wool lined. 

I suspect that if Marybeth were the type to get her hair done and styled, she’d have sported a rain bonnet in 1974. Those rain bonnets were the epitome of preparedness along with plastic envelopes containing rosary beads, tissues, and nail clippers.  She’d have been every quaffed woman listening to the Watergate hearings. 

As a teacher, not being prepared for high school students is akin to traveling to the Arctic Circle with no mittens.  And rather than entertaining the possibility of frostbite and blackened fingers, I post our agenda on the screen, papers are ready, I alert my students to locations of bathroom passes and emergency procedures, anticipate the “I don’t know where my….” statements on a daily basis.  It is literally my job to be prepared and most days I succeed. I’ve notes everywhere, I anticipate questions, I prepare.

And, of course, that preparedness lends  to other areas of life. I always have sunblock, carry a blanket in my car, have a notebook and pen ready in my glovebox should I need to get details down after an accident.  I know the number to my insurance agent and have at least three extra pair of gloves in my car. I like knowing I could be okay in a New England winter should I break down in a blizzard. 

But truth be told, I am not always prepared. I never have Kleenex. I have no clue where and what my passwords are and my socks are rarely, if ever, matched.  I’m never quite sure where a charger is. I shop on Christmas Eve every year and wrap gifts on Christmas morning. If I were Santa, I’d have been “let go” decades ago. Mercifully, I have never yearned for his job.

But I do yearn to celebrate the preparedness of mothers and teachers everywhere and those who wear wool lined hats or plastic rain bonnets.

  I celebrate equally those who helped prepare the testimonies held this week.

Bravo. Bravo. Bravo.

Susan Dromey Heeter is a writer from Dover who recently let her hair go au natural white. Writing has been her passion since her English majoring days at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst.  Dromey Heeter has lived in The Netherlands, Alaska and currently basks in all things New England, including the frigid winters. An avid swimmer, Dromey Heeter’s great passion is to bring back body surfing as most children have no idea how to ride waves without ridiculous boogie boards.

The opinions expressed are those of the writer. takes no position on politics, but welcomes diverse opinions.

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