Received June 5, 2010

 

Transferring to WHS from Lakewood in the 9th grade, I gorged on the special enrichments at

WHS (music and theater), but was socially isolated from classmates out on the tip of Maple

Bluff without wheels. Being the second tallest girl in the class didn’t help either. I tied for that

honor with Kathy, who didn’t seem to have the same complex about it. Of course lovely Katie,

being an inch taller, stole top honors in the “How’s the air up there” class. And of course the

taller, alpha males picked the shorter alpha women leaving me (at least) s—t outa luck for a

date to the prom. But whine me not. If you were not “straight,” it must have been worse. We

know statistically out of 70 kids, there must have been about 7 aardvarks, but I didn’t have a

clue. Just imagine the pain of “don’t ask, don’t tell”? Thank goddess the 50s are over, even in

the military now. “Pleasantville” was a painful time for us non-cheerleader types.

 

Graduating from WHS in three years with a scholarship (the only then-known way to run away

from home), Rollins College in FL welcomed me. I finally got into a sorority and felt accepted

(now I’m embarrassed to admit it and hide from the Theta mailers). I returned to UW for my

junior/senior years and received a BS in Art Education at UW. Post-graduate work at UW

followed (art education). Disturbed first by “duck and cover” in the 8th grade, then The War,

then the election of Ronald Reagan, I started a sociology masters at UC Santa Cruz in the ‘80s

to set my community organizing in context, but never got it done due to lack of funds. In the

‘60s and ‘70s, when I should have been breeding, and perhaps divorcing, and filing for

alimony, travel was my bag: Mexico, Europe, Asia, Africa, Canada, and most of the USA,

especially the “back to the land” movement. Especially, New Buffalo in Taos. Alas, a serious

back injury in HI in 1972 cramped my style forever and resulted in a complex fusion in 2007.

 

I taught art in various Wisconsin high schools for several years, worked as an art therapist with

children on Vancouver Island, and moved to Santa Cruz in 1977 after a two-year detour

through surf-bum beaches of Southern CA. After a series of interesting but impermanent jobs

here (affirmative action officer, publicist, gallery manager, film maker), I became a public

relations writer/committee coordinator at UC Santa Cruz for 20 years. I coordinated the animal

care and use committee for the final 13 years before retiring in 2007. Now time swims by in

the beautiful outdoor heated pool at my health club one block away… on the days my mobile

home isn’t shook by the wind gusting up the arroyo from the Pacific two blocks the other way.

I’m not a “Type A” anymore. I’m just writing a memoir as time allows, while staying

politically active: The question isn’t how we raise taxes, cut spending and balance the budget,

but how we return to an economy of full employment with a broad and prosperous middle

class.

 

My sister Mary (East High) has again taken up the gypsy life and is hoping to settle in Santa

Cruz eventually. It would be nice to have family here, but we are waiting to see what will

happen with the late great state—Santa Cruz in particular: Medicare doctors here are not

taking new patients. We are childfree by choice and keep loose ties to other members of our

family around the country.

I don’t travel except out of necessity, nurturing my small carbon

footprint as the oil continues to gush into the Gulf. But I’m glad for those of you who can

attend. Reunions are important, and I hope you will share pics and stories. I have greatly

enjoyed reading your bios, especially the lavish soaps of the likes of Katie and Howard (who I

still remember fondly playing Christie to my Widow Quinn and drinking a toast to the

outlandish lovers of the Western World). Thanks to all who are helping out with the reunion. I

try to answer all e-mail, if you feel so moved.