I knew a girl named July. She was 12. I was 10. She wore paisley bell bottoms. She had chain link bracelets. Her eyes hinted at some events that I had yet to witness. She rode motorbikes. She was so cool. This July, our July, is nothing like her. Chill out seventh month!

I’ve been reading back through my columns lately, growing in wisdom. I noticed two things: I haven’t lectured my readership in months, and I’ve failed to mention Annie either. I will reconcile both oversights herewith.

First, the lecture. Personally, I love to receive packages in the mail. The arrival of the tan boxes feels a bit like a small Christmas morning or an eighth birthday, even if the gifts are self-given. For those of us on Chappy, the Chappy Store UPS room serves as our year-round Christmas tree. All the UPS (and there are a lot!) packages are delivered there, and then sorted and named by Gerry Jeffers. He is our Santa. He is also, by most measures, Chappy as well. So when one disrespects Gerry, one is also disrespecting Santa, and Chappy herself. Even if one were to argue my Santa metaphor, one could not argue what Gerry is not: our employee. Gerry also is not in the employ of UPS. All the work that he does in collecting and organizing our packages is done because, well — he’s Gerry. He doesn’t need to wade through the geometric mayhem, and put order on the chaos. He doesn’t need to be there to greet you, and help you find your parcel. And he surely doesn’t need to call you to alert you of your shipment’s arrival. So be nice. Grateful. Considerate. Gerry deserves that and more.

Now, on to Annie. Annie Heywood. Cousin Annie. Annie is the daughter of my grandmother’s cousin, which makes her my . . . Annie. Over the years, I’ve poked fun at Annie in these pages, always trusting that her good humor would allow her an understanding of my intent. I love Annie. Not just because she is quirky, eccentric, funny, and family, but because she is a good person. Annie has been a caring, patient caretaker to those around her for many years, first her brothers, then her mother, then her father. Annie has never left anyone behind. And she is a gifted photographer and artist. Her pictures of family and friends over the past 50 years serve as an excellent archive of Marshall family history. At the age of, I don’t know, 60-something, she has no fear to pack a bag and head to Spain for a tour of Gaudí architecture. She is brave, she is a little nuts, and she is a love. She is our Annie.

I thought I saw a shark pass below me while paddle boarding Monday, but it was only a cloud passing overhead. Another metaphor for the trials of life, I suppose.

Send Chappy news to ibwsgolf@aol.com.