Jacqueline M. Ruffino-Platt
When I lived in Northern Virginia and was driving around one morning, I noticed a craft store had just opened in our vicinity. My creation for some fine crafts was in my mind. Bow making, floral and wreath designing, centerpieces for tables, decorating homes for the holidays, homemade gifts for family and friends. My creative interests and talents I inherited from my mom, and to this day are still in my heart and wonderful memories.
I decided to enter this enticing store and asked to speak with the manager. Overwhelmed and impressed with the new décor and the packed shelves, I knew I had to work there. Just when my head was spinning around capturing all the goodies, the manager approached me and asked me if he could be of assistance. “Yes, yes,” I answered. “I would love to work here. Your sign in the window says, ‘Opening for Floral Designer.’” “Do you have any experience?” he asked. My heart was beating fast, my pulse racing, my anticipation of having a title “The Floral Designer” in this brand-new store was exciting. The manager asked me to fill out an application and then make my way up and down the aisles gathering supplies to make a floral centerpiece. One hour later, he said, “You are hired. Start tomorrow at $10 an hour.” I had just retired from the federal government after 25 years.
The store became very popular, and many customers enjoyed this new shop. My “Floral Station,” my haven, was in the middle of the store, and customers always stopped by to watch me work. Aside from being the floral designer, I taught classes in bow making. New brides-to-be hired me to create pew bows, floral bouquets, and table decorations. I was busy all the time and loving every moment.
Two years later, during the Christmas holiday, on an ordinary day, the store manager asked to see me in his office. A bit nervous, I was thinking, “What have I done?” He introduced me to two distinguished, mysterious gentlemen. These gentlemen were in the Secret Service. Sorry, I cannot divulge which office they secured at this time. The gentlemen informed us that the Pentagon’s restoration was near completion after the tragedy of Sept. 11, 2001, and requested, if at all possible, to have someone in the store create two red velvet bows for the top of two 12-foot Christmas trees. Why was I asked to this meeting? My manager appointed me to the task. The Christmas trees were going to be erected and placed on each end of the Pentagon, and they asked if we could make this happen. We assured them it would. “Only two bows?” I asked. I felt honored and accepted the challenge. The request was for two large, red, velvet bows, each one measuring six feet long and three feet wide. Oh my, a challenge for certain. I made two very beautiful Christmas bows which were placed on the Christmas trees located at the ends of two individual corridors in the Pentagon. Photographs were taken, and an article was written in the local newspaper. The store manager and I received recognition for our contribution. A beautiful, bittersweet remembrance added to another chapter of my life stories.