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72 I planned the subject for this month's Bomb column long before COVID-19 had everyone socially distanced and masked. I first met Michelle Marlow almost 10 years ago, when she seemed to be wearing a dizzying array of hats: president of the Junior League of Fort Worth; brilliant speech pathologist; wife of cardiac anesthesiologist Scott Marlow; mother of four (George, Thomas, Henry, and William, who was still in elementary school at the time); and loyal friend to many. She refers to Team Marlow as her "table of six" — an ode to her life with fi ve boys. On my recent visit to her classic Colonial Hills home, she came out to greet me and threw air kisses, while our smiles betrayed our longing for a hug. She looked oh-so fashionable in a white dress with charming Valentino sandals — straight from a Doris Day movie. If "Que Sera Sera" had been playing in the background, it would have been truly cinematic. Michelle is the quintessential small-town girl. She was born in Shiner, Texas ("there's one blinking light," she shares), the daughter of a devoted mother and a father who was the town veterinarian. Upon graduating from high school, Michelle found herself in love with Texas Christian University and swears that she will always bleed purple. Compared to her town with only one Dairy Queen, Fort Worth was a big cosmopolitan city, and she has thrived here. Upon graduating from TCU, she received her MS degree at Lamar University in Beaumont but was drawn back to Fort Worth, where she went to work as a clinically certifi ed speech language pathologist for children. That was when she met Scott Marlow. They married a few years later. One of her greatest accomplishments has been the publication of her fi rst book, S is the Most Delicious Sound. Lynn Flahive, her clinical supervisor at TCU, once told her, "Michelle, you should write books." That advice stuck with her. She began writing, and this book resurfaced 25 years later when she was looking through some old fi les on a computer. For those unfamiliar with speech issues, S is one of the hardest letters to pronounce. The book, a resource for parents and educators alike, has been a great success and led to follow-up volumes L is for Lemonade and R is the Roughest Sound. Besides writing, she still wears a variety of hats, such as chairing the 2021 Jewel Charity Ball. Although the eagerly anticipated black-tie gala has been canceled due to COVID-19, she and her team are working passionately to raise funds and awareness for the event's recipient, Cook Children's Medical Center. Searching for Bomb.com photographs via Facetime with her mother has been a treat, Michelle tells me. The runner-up image is of her riding on a parade fl oat as Miss Gonzales County, which she was crowned during her senior year of high school. (The image originally ran on the front page of the local newspaper.) Who doesn't adore a picture of a girl wearing a sash and waving demurely to a crowd. We ultimately chose this image because Michelle says her friendships have all been "tried and true." Approximate date of photo. October, 25, 1990. The occasion. Pi Beta Phi's Big/Little Sis Party. I know this exact date, as it was printed on my "Flash" picture. I'm with Teal, my Little Sister; Susan, my Big Sister; and Sheila, my great friend and roommate. What you were wearing. My Pi Phi letters (in purple, of course) with a matching bow on top. What price fashion. I'm not quite sure. However, I do know the outfi t was purchased from the Brown Bag. All "special" things Greek came from the Brown Bag on Vickery Boulevard. Why this is a Bomb.com picture. I've always believed in sisterhood and women empowering women. I come from a long line of strong women — my mother and my grandmother — who instilled faith, love for family and friends, and giving to others. B Y B I L L Y F O N G from a Doris Day movie. If SHE'S THE BOMB MICHELLE MARLOW Michelle Marlow (bottom left), 1990