My leaving....

When I left my first husband, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I remember saying that to myself at the time. We had been married 16 years, we had history, and I knew that it was going to be a hard thing to do. What hurt me the most, though, was that I left my daughter behind, and that was really hard. I had envisioned she and I being together, just the two of us, even if he wasn't going to be in the picture.... I guess that was not fair to her dad. I wanted to be fair, though, so I tried not to force my feelings onto her or him. I can only imagine what this all must have been like for him at the time. He was the one who told me to leave, but he really didn't think there was anything wrong, and he really didn't think I'd do it!!

I know he had a friend to talk to about all of this...and I know he did. His friend was a man he knew from church, and had remained friends with. I didn't particularly care for the friend - I thought his views were sexist, but I know Jack thought a lot of him at the time. I did, and still do, think that everyone needs a friend during times of upheaval and crisis. I met Jack a few times to 'exchange' Chelsea, and we talked briefly at those times. But the main thing I remember thinking was that I didn't want to be around him too long, as I knew he would talk me out of staying gone. And I knew I didn't want that to happen. I was weak enough, and wobbly enough in my convictions, that I knew it wouldn't take much for him to talk me into coming back to live with him. Somehow I knew that wasn't the right thing for me. I still loved him...and would have probably gone back to him, thinking that things would be different. But I was worried about my mental health.

After I stayed with frieds for a few days, I found a little apartment on B Street there in town. It wasn't much, and my heart was hurting. I figured it would be ok for me and for Chelsea. I continued to work at the grocery store where I had a job, and my supervisor there, (the girl I had gone to Wichita with) helped me out by giving me as many hours as she could. I did ok...but not great. Meanwhile, I suppose Jack was getting by out there in the country where we lived, but was making plans to move.

Ok..my heart is hurting right now..writing this..and it's really, really hard to go back over this in my mind. I continue to blame myself for all the heartache and pain that I caused him at the time, that I caused my daughter, and that I went through too. I don't know if it was the right thing to do...I think it was, for me. But it just doesn't seem to make it right, or good, or ok. When I think about the confusion, and the anger, and the hurt....it just is so hard to even think about. I have no idea what he must have been feeling, what he must have gone through...what he must have thought of me... I know, like I said, he talked about it with a friend, but did that help? What happened to him inside? This is making me cry and hurt...and wonder...

I think what happened was that he and his older kids packed everything up out at the house in the country. I let him take care of all that...I was trying to be hands off with all that. Should I have helped? He moved all the stuff to a house in Winfield...10 miles north of the town where I lived. Chelsea decided to stay with him, which was devastating for me, on top of everything else. I wasn't expecting that...but I had to deal with it, and go with it.

What makes it hurt so much now, and made it hurt a lot then, was that we had a good marriage...up until that time, that is. We had a good time together, laughing, playing cards, dancing, holding each other, talking about everything. We had good friends, both old and new. His friends, my friends, and the friends me made together. We made it through the hard times, the times with very little money. We knew we would always have each other. We worked together through the crap that his kids put us through, the car repossessions, the evictions, the job losses,our parents, the moves...all of it. Divorce was never an option for me, as that was the way I was raised. I just figured that we would be together forever. He made me smile and laugh, with his jokes and stories. I guess...after all that, life just caught up with us, got in the way, and I..not him..but I let life and those around me influence my thinking. I let the feelings that I got from others tell me what to do in my marriage. Maybe I was wrong, I don't know. Maybe we grew apart, or I grew away from him. I'm not sure. It hurt like hell, but I knew, or thought I knew, that I didn't want to be with him anymore.

And so...my drinking escalated. Not because of Chelsea being with him, although I'm sure that didn't help. It was everything taken together, I suppose, I continued to have liasons with a few men, continued to drink, and thought I was doing allright. After all, I was on my own, wasn't I? I was away from the man and the situation that had made me crazy, right??

I found out that the brother of the man I was having an affair with was single, and he recommended that I maybe see him, or date him. I said, sure...why not? I really didn't think it would happen, but one night he (the brother, Jeff) ended up on my doorstep. I had my daughter with me at the time. He asked if I had a beer (he had been at the bar) and I said no. I was suspicious. Then he asked if I had a glass of water. What could I say, I thought? So I let him in..and we talked. He told me a bunch of his favorite jokes, and I had a good time talking to him. Of course Chelsea was in the next room, sleeping. I think he probably stayed over that night, which is indicative of the kind of woman I was....no scruples. It wasn't long after that, a few days, I guess, that Chelsea and I had to go out of town for a long weekend, and Jeff asked if he could 'camp out' in my place while I was gone. He was just renting a room in some guy's house, and my place was more suitable for him. I said yea....I figured it would be ok.

Looking back, I know I made him out, and the relationship, to be something he wasn't, and it wasn't. He was looking for a woman to take care of him, cause he was basically lazy and didn't want to exert himself. I know that now...but I didn't know it then. I wish I had....but my rose-colored glasses told me differently.

After a few weeks of seeing him, in which I thought I was having a good time, I let him move in. We talked, laughed, drank, and had good sex together....I thought, what the hell? He's not an asshole, he comes home every night, and he contributes money to the household. I couldn't ask for much more, could I? He got along ok with Chelsea, but then that was the least of my worries. She wasn't there all the time...this had to be hard for her, too.

I got a job at a book publishing company later that year, and I thought I was really doing well. It was in the office, and I did ok for a while. But then they decided they didn't need me there, and, instead of just letting me go, they found a spot for me in the factory part of the company, collating books. It was ok...not what I wanted, but it was a job.

Meanwhile, I kept drinking, and kept seeing the man that I had been having an affair with. I couldn't seem to stop that....we were actually developing a relationship, although I knew he would never leave his wife. I drank beer, malt liquor, wine, and thought I was doing ok. I felt happy in my little apartment, felt like life was good cause I had a good man (?) and I had a good job. What did it hurt if I drank a little now and then. Jeff did too, didn't he?? We had a good time together, and that's all that mattered now. He went to work every day, at a beef slaughtering plant in another town, came home every night, and sometimes we would go out. Or we might stay in and watch tv. He loved it when I cooked, took care of things, and I thought he was the best guy I'd ever had!!

We acquired some fish and some birds, all in that little apartment. It was at this time, looking back, that I realize that I was again letting go of myself and letting myself be molded into what another person wanted me to be. I began to like the things he liked, dislike the things he disliked, doing the things he did, and not doin the things he didn't want to do. I don't know where that comes from...I really don't. I didn't think my parents raised me to be that way, nor did I see my mother do that with my dad. I just did it....not even knowing that I was doing it! But looking back now, I see that that's exactly what happened.

He loved to watch football and gamble on it. He also wanted to raise some fighting chickens and fight them as well. We watched football in my apartment, and he did some gambling there, but that was all. But after about 6 months of being togther, he said he had found a place that we could move into. I know he'd been talking to the guy that he got a ride to work with every day. It was his, Dave's, place...and Jeff thought it would be a good place to raise his fightin cocks. He talked to me about it, and I went over to look at it. It was awful...really it was. But I was so in love with being in love, that I over looked the awfulness of it, and told him I thought I could make it into a home.

It was a raggedy trailer, on the edge of town, that had an old abandoned house next to it. It was the house that had been on that property years ago, and had trash, fallen plaster, old appliances, and holes all over. The trailer was small - 12 by 60, I think - had a sand point for the water, and gas for heat. (A sandpoint. That is long (30 foot) pipe that goes into the ground, with a pointed end on it. The point has holes in it, and thus the water in the sandy ground, on which we lived, could go into the sandpoint, and then be sucked up through the pipe by an electric water pump. That's all we had for water....it was fine when it was working, but anytime the electricity went off, or the pump quit working, we were shit out of luck. And both of those things happened with more frequency than I care to admit. I swore that would never happen to me again.)I guess everything was working at the time, and I didn't even pay attention to what the dangers might be. It also had about 5 acres with it, which was obviously the attraction for Jeff. It had stone steps leading up to the rickety wooden porch. And not NICE stone steps...just big rocks that had been put there to step on. But all this I over looked...what an idiot I was!! I wasn't even thinking about what Chelsea might think.....she was busy living with her father at this point, and I only saw her every other weekend.

I really hate to admit it, but at this point I probably wasn't thinking about my daughter like I should have been. As I said, I was in love with being in love. (I'm shaking my head as I write this...what an idiot I was!) Now I know that she should have been the most important thing in my life at the time....and that carries a lot of guilt with it as well....I let her go, both physically and mentally...and maybe even emotionally.

So, we moved into this trailer....it didn't take long. I think I did most of the moving...as usual, he didn't lift a finger.

My drinking story....

I drank some as I was becoming an adult. I drank in college, off and on. In fact, the night that I lost my virginity, I was probably drunk. I DO remember it, though, so I couldn't have been too drunk. I remember going to the local beer joint and sitting there with friends, poking money into the jukebox, moving to the music, and lamenting about our lives. I met a few 'townies' in there too, and admit to a few one-night stands. It seemed to be the drinking hang out for the college at the time. I also drank in my dorm room. Some of us girls would get together and have a party, and there was almost always alcohol involved. But, again, I didn't really go overboard, or drink in excess.

I guess drinking made me feel grown up in a way. Really, being in college made me feel pretty grown up. I really didn't have an opinion about the drinking one way or the other. I think I did it because other people were doing it. It didn't seem to affect me either way.

After I got married the first time, my husband and I hung around with friends that drank. Not a lot...just on weekends, or during a football game. I drank my share of beer during that time, and liked it. I also remember going to the disco clubs on the weekends, and having some beer there....I probably got drunk a few times, and said some things that I shouldn't have said.
Drinking probably led to some behaviors, at that time, that were not good. For instance, in the process of going to clubs, and hanging out with friends, I got involved with another man...not an affair...just a look across a room, a wink, a promise. Nothing ever came of it, but it nevertheless made my husband feel like crap, and I ended up feeling guilty and responsible. I blame the alcohol for what happened, but I take responsibility for what I did...now. I guess at that time, I liked the way that alcohol made me feel, but I didn't act on it...not then.

It wasn't until later on in our marriage....after I'd had my child, and things started getting difficult with the bills, and the child-rearing, and the stepkids, and the self-esteem. All it took was a few beers, a glass of wine, to make me realize that the effects of the alcohol took me away. It helped me escape, and made me feel so much better.
I was a social drinker, but I quickly turned into a non-social drinker. I drank alone, for the most part. Oh, there were times, later on, when I would go to a bar with my second husband, and sit there and drink a few beers with him. But mostly I drank at home, with a bottle of wine, and tell myself that it was ok.

When I first separated from my first husband, I lived in an apartment, and drank lots of beer. I would go to to the liquor store and buy it, in bottles. Sometimes I would buy malt liquor, or wine. Then, I quit drinking the beer, and went straight to the wine. It seemed quicker, and I liked the taste better.
I would stop at the liquor store once a week and get a bottle of wine. That quickly escalated into several times a week, and then into almost every day. And then, instead of everyday, I bought several bottles when I did go, so I didn't have to go again so soon. This all happened over a time period of several years. I spread my liquor business over several different liquor stores so one of them wouldn't see that I was there all the time...I wasn't fooling anyone, I'm sure.

When my second husband and I moved into our home - a raggedy trailer that I tried to make into a home but ended up hating - I was drinking quite a bit. But I still didn't think it was a problem. He would watch football, gamble, and talk on the phone, and I would sit there and drink. When I cooked I would sip on a glass of wine. When I read, I would sip on a glass of wine. When he would go to the horse racing track and gamble, I would sip on a glass of wine. It was simple - his vice was gambling, mine was drinking. And I had kept up my wandering eye, and my promiscuity.
It wasn't until he and I had had several really loud, physical arguments that I realized that my drinking, and his, at times, was contributing to the problem. But still, I ignored it, and vowed each time that it would be different, that I wouldn't get verbally abusive or loud and argumentative this time.

I tried church. I tried reading self-help books. I tried online help. I tried everything...except admitting that I had a problem. And I still didn't want to do that...cause I didn't have one!!

The thought of an AA meeting - filled with old men in a smoke-filled room - didn't appeal to me at all. I wasn't one of them anyway!! So I continued with my drinking, continued with my loud, yelling fights, continued with my promiscuity, until I hit my bottom. Actually I had several bottoms, but my last one came after I had hit the first few. I had to keep doing research until I was convinced I was an alcoholic.

When I was drinking, I:
- Made an ass of myself by yelling at my husband in front of a whole bar full of people...I even slapped him on the face!!
- Made an ass of myself by talking stupidly in front of my family
- Made an ass of myself by having sex with people I NEVER would have done had I been sober.
- Thought I was being sneaky and innocent by putting my wine in another container and taking it with me
- Made an ass of myself even when I wasn't drinking, simply because of my anger and resentments that had built up in me.
- Got jealous and envious of people when I shouldn't have...
-Probably screwed up a lot of my life, and my daughter's life....
- Blacked out quite a few times. The most embarrassing times were when I knew I had made love to my husband but couldn't remember it.

On August 16, 2001, late at night, after I'd been drinking heavily all evening, I found myself - and I say that because I'd been having blackouts quite frequently up till then - in my car, out in my driveway, and only wearing my underwear, with a glass of wine in one hand, and my cell phone in the other. I have no idea how I got there, or what I was doing, but I was totally ashamed of myself. Nobody around...nobody to see me...but at that point I hated myself for how I got where I was. I haven't had a drink since then.

It started out slowly....

It started out slowly....

I guess my drinking started out when I was feeling overwhelmed by Jack, his kids, my daughter, my job, the bills, no money, the creditors...blah, blah, blah...and all of that spread out over so many years. I was unhappy with my situation and with my husband being gone. And when I drank, it made me comfortably numb. Oh, what a feeling!!

At first, I would stop by the liquor store on the way home. I had a 12 mile drive to the house every day, and when I would come home from picking Chelsea up from school, I would stop and get a six-pack of beer, or a bottle of wine. Who knew? Chelsea was too little to know, or care....Jack was gone all the time, and his kids....well, none of them were living with us at that particular point in time. So I would bring it home, stick it in the back of the refrigerator, and enjoy it after I put Chelsea to bed. If I knew Jack was going to be home, I would just not have any, or hide it somewhere else. (Is that the first sign of an alcoholic? Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself...)

It really was nice. It was such a great way to escape. It tasted good, too, and I really didn't think it was a bad thing. I had drank before...in my college years...and in the early years of our marriage. But going to church for those 4 or 5 years had turned me into a tee-totaler, and the idea of drinking anything was BAD...bad, bad. bad!! At least, that's what the church made me feel....wanted me to feel...and I had talked myself into it. Hence, the hiding...the secretive way I went about it.

It wasn't long after that that another man showed some interest in me...a man whom Jack and I both knew and who was also married. Now THAT felt good, too!! Again, the church, obviously, frowned on extra-marital anything, let alone affairs, emotional or otherwise. I let it happen, though. I went with it...I ate it up. It was just a matter of a touch here, and longing look there...but it made me feel so darn special!! Something I apparently hadn't felt for a long time....This attention led to another man's attention...and off I went...I was unfaithful to my husband for the first time in 16 years...Did I feel bad about it? Yes...and no. It made me lose what little respect I had left for him...but I'm not sure I knew that at the time...That's twisted, though...MY infidelity made me lose respect for HIM...how does that work? But I did...

My drinking was still confined to what I could manage in the evenings....I wasn't drinking every day, nor did I want to, at that point. I was working in the deli section of a grocery store in town, and one of the girls there was a good friend of mine. She and I seemed to be going through the same thing, emotionally...and maritally. She was not certain she wanted to be married to her husband anymore. And I was not feeling good about what was going on in my marriage either. We were able to commiserate with each other, and spent some good times together. Even though she was 12 years younger than I was, I think we seemed to click on some level…at least at that point in our lives. I think, looking back, that I was very selfish in some ways, but in others, I think I was finally sticking up for myself, and learning how to look out for me, and not him all the time.

I really did try to be a good wife, off and on. I had my daughter to think about, and after all, he and I were a couple! We had history!! Plus, I didn’t really want to be a statistic…another divorce.

But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that splitting with Jack at that time, when Chelsea was young, would be better than waiting till when she was, say...16. Wouldn't it? Again, my mind might have been playing games with me, but that's the reasoning I used. So I left. And the catalyst was one night when I went out with the friend that I worked with, and didn't get home until 2 a.m. Ok...my excuse was we had gone to Wichita, and it takes an hour to drive each way. We had a good time going to a couple of clubs, having a few drinks, laughing, and talking about men. It was a good get away for both of us. I really (really!) hadn't been unfaithful that night...nor had I intended to be. But my husband thought it was wrong. Left over church jargon? Maybe....He said "No married woman should be out that late! I want you out of this house by morning!"

So I left...

I don't think he meant it at the time...but it was the opening I needed and was waiting for...

Despite the fact that I was leaving a comfortable home, a semi-secure, long-standing and comfortable marriage, I stayed gone. It was the single most difficult thing I've ever had to do, I think. Why? Because my daughter did not go with me....and that's not how I had visualized it. She stayed with Jack, I thought, until I could have her live with me in whatever living arrangements I could find. But...after it was all said and done...she decided that she wanted to stay with her dad. That broke my heart...in a million pieces. No man, no bottle, nothing could soothe my heart....

But I was going to get through it. I had to...and so I continued to drink. Through the separation, through the moving out, through the discussions, through the jobs....through it all. And it continued to get worse, because I relied on it more and more to make me comfortably numb through my pain.

That first night I stayed with friends. Not the same one I had gone out with, but a different one. It’s all a big fuzzy, but I must have stayed there until I found the little apartment that I lived in for a while. It was a very small place, in town, and I made it into a home for me, and for my daughter. It only had four rooms – a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. And it was upstairs, mostly furnished. I moved what little bit I had into it, and continued with my job and kept my chin up the best I could.

I was really hurting inside…I drank a lot of beer, all different kinds, but when that didn't work anymore, I went to wine. I liked wine...my parents drank wine. Wasn't that ok?? I didn't drink much of the hard stuff..I knew it would kill me...

It didn't take long for me to meet my next boyfriend/husband....

The first few years of her life...

Despite the fact that we had very little money, and I wasn't working, we seemed to do ok...at least from my point of view. My job, at that point, was to take care of my daughter the best way I knew how. I was nursing her, and that took a lot of time right there. Jack wanted to help out, and he did...as much as he could. He loved her, it was easy to see....

It took some time for my body to adjust to being a new mom, but it worked out. It took even longer for my mind to adjust...but that happened ....eventually, too. I got into a routine with her and with myself. I managed to learn about nursing and how she was the one that regulates it - not me. So I let her. I had a little help and advice from friends, but mostly what I knew I learned from reading...and from the fact that I was patient. If I hadn't been, I think i would have given up..like I see a lot of young girls do these days. Nursing is not easy - at first. But the longer I stayed with it, the more I liked it!! No messy bottles...no heating up the milk..no MIXING the milk...and it was easier to feed on demand, which I had decided to do. At least at first. And, when we went somewhere, I didn't have to worry about how many bottles to bring along, whether they would spoil, or where I was going to heat them up! She would cry to eat, and I was ready! In fact....there were times I was ready before she was!! It's amazing how Mother Nature works all that out for us...and how it was intentioned to feed our babies the milk we already have!!

I remember a few times that she threw up that milk on her daddy..at the most inopportune times. It was funny...probably not for him, but it was for me. I had to learn what I could eat that wouldn't make her do that...whatever I ate, SHE ate too!!

We were still attending the Baptist church at that time. There seemed to be a lot of babies at that time, and I felt like I had a lot of friends in the young mothers. What I didn't know, and eventually found out, was that having children seemed to be a hobby of these women! Some of them had lots of babies, and were intending to have more!! There was something in the back of my mind that didn't like that idea...and a few of the other things that were going on then...like the man being the 'head of the household' and stuff like that. I could go along with someone having to BE the head of the house...but these men took it to a different level!! It was like the women couldn't say anything! And if they did, it was really not counted anyway!! HE made all the decisions!!

Jack also had a hard time with that...I think he struggled with it just like I did.. He had friends who he would go to for advice, just like I did....I wanted to be a part..I wanted to be what God wanted me to be. So did he...But he struggled with the fact that didn't own a suit, nor did he want to wear one...the fact that he smoked cigarettes, and the folks in the church didn't like that....He wanted to be the "head of the house'...but he wasn't sure how to go about it, and he also knew that I, as his wife, had as much say in things as he did...and he couldn't reconcile those things...

I enjoyed raising Chelsea in the church environment. She had lots of friends...but again, I felt like some of the ladies were looking down their noses at me if I didn't dress her like their girls...But I kept on doing what I thought was right, and what I wanted to do...

I had to go back to work when she was about 3 years old. Up to that time, I hadn't had to work. But we had one of Jack's daughters living with us, and I just had to work to supplement the income.By that time we had moved out to a house in the country...something Jack had always wanted to do. I liked it fine, except it was inconvenient for all the trips we made to church and back, work and back..etc. And times were hard for us financially.. Seems like they always were.

I remember the first time I left Chelsea at the baby sitter's when I went to work...She cried and yelled MAMA so loud I thought my heart was going to break right then and there. God that was hard!! I will never, ever forget that moment...!! But I got through it, just like I did everything else.

We had good times in that house, and we had some really hard times. Derek, Jack's son, also lived with us. He and the girl, Stella, both were going to school in town, and that was hard. There was one time when I didn't know where our next meal was coming from... and then some food was brought to us by a church member...that was a lifesaver...Jack's job and mine just didn't pay our bills, and he kept getting us deeper and deeper in debt.

One time, late at night, a sheriff came by our house. I think it was 9 p.m. I was there alone, with Chelsea, who was a toddler. The sheriff was there to arrest me and take me to jail for an outstanding ticket I had for no insurance. I had forgotten to pay it, or else we didnt' have the money... I didn't know what to do!! I cried, and he asked me if I had any family I could leave Chelsea with...I said no, which was the truth. But I definitely didn't want to leave her anywhere!! He took pity on me and said if I paid the fine the next morning, he wouldn't take me in...God was watching over me that night...

It seemed like our lives were filled with situations like that. The car would die, we had no car, no phone, no way to get to town....no money, plus the anxiety that his kids brought to MY life...he was always gone. Stella was involved in a group home in Wichita...Derek was in trouble all the time. I clung to my Chelsea for solace...and to the fact that I was ok..

My mother and dad must have really wondered what had gotten into me...I sure did!! I look back and think...'Was that really me?' It was a terrible existence...and I wish I had it to do over again....

Jack had an accident at work. He had some big boxes of pork butts fall onto his neck/shoulder area. He lost the use of his left arm...and we went through countless surgeries and stress over that....he couldn't work for a time, and we were in worse shape than before. We tried to do what 'God' wanted us to do..but it seemed like things just got worse.

After a few years of going to church, trying to do what they wanted us to do....it finally become too much of a hardship, for me and for Jack. They stared putting pressure on him to conform...to wear a suit, and to quit smoking. Afer all, they said, you represent the church! Do you think it helps for others to see you smoking?? Then, I didn't like the way they were treating him...so after HE quit going to church, so did I. (That was after I had taught school at the church academy for a couple years, to help pay for Chelsea's tuition.)

We moved into the double-wide mobile home that was next to the old house we'd been in...it was so nice!! Lots of room and much better insulation. Jack started driving over the road for a cattle hauler, and was gone alot...even more than before. I had to listen to his kids...the creditors calling on the phone, the church folks... I home-schooled Chelsea her second grade...which I loved!! I could stay home...play with her, teach her, read to her...and I didn't have to face anyone....For her next year of school, I put her in public school in town.

My feelings for church, and all that it represented has gone through a lot of changes in the ensuing years...

That's when my drinking started....

A beautiful baby!!

I had already decided to call her Chelsea. I got the name from the movie 'On Golden Pond', starring Henry Fonda, Kathryn Hepburn, and Jane Fonda. Jane's character in the movie was named Chelsea, and I really liked the sound of it. Jack's contribution was all her middle names. He couldn't leave anyone out. Marilee was a combination of my mother (Marilyn) and his stepmother (Betty Lee); Frances was the name of a woman who was like a grandmother to him; Hazel was the name of his grandmother; and Ayres was the middle name of my grandmother. Chelsea Marilee Frances Hazel Ayres Riley. Oh, well...she is ok with it..and I've told her where they all came from. She thinks it's cool.

She was a beautiful baby, as all babies are to their parents. She had lots of auburn hair, a lovely pinkish complexion, and was only 6 pounds 15 ounces. The day began with my water breaking and waking me up. I must have labored during my sleep!! I remember going to bed the night before with a lower back ache, but that was it. My water broke about 4:30 a.m. and I woke up Jack and told him. He sprang into action, making sure everyting was ready. He was going to go to work that day, but it was going to be overtime. That's why he called her his 'overtime baby'. I went to the bathroom, and then we went to the hospital. I remember arguing with Jack about going to the donut shop first, but I won. I felt like we didn't have much time to spare. Sure enough, by the time I got into the hospital long enough for them to examine me, I was TOTALLY dilated!! They couldn't believe it, and either could I!

"You walked into this hospital, with a smile on your face, completely dilated?", one of the nurses said to me!! So by the time I was put on the birthing table in the birhting room (new at that time) they didn't have any time to even put a needle in my arm for any medication. My labor intensified from the moment I got to the hospital, and when the doctor finally got there, I was ready to push!! My husband was running around blithering..that's all I can remember. The doctor, at one point, was leaning against the wall, waiting for me to push the baby out far enough for him to help.

The nurses were very helpful in letting me know when to push. It was really hard work, but I knew it wouldn't be long. At one point, the doctor said the baby's heart rate was going down, and that was not good, so he gave me a pudendal block so he could use forceps to get her out. But it was not necessary after all...her heart rate came back up.

All I remember was it happened so fast!! Before I knew it, she was born, I felt her coming out, and then there was something else coming out...I didn't know what. I assumed it was the placenta...I think they took her away to weigh her and take all the necessary scores, clean her up. But they brought her back, and I tried to nurse her. (I had already decided to do that.) She took right to it, and all I could do was stare at her.

"My daughter...my daughter....I'm a mom, I'm a mom..." I kept saying it over and over to get used to the idea. It was so foreign to me!! But I knew I would have to get used to it, and it would be my name for a long, long time. I loved it...I was so ready to be a mom....

Jack was so excited that he called everybody from my hospital room to let them know!! That was fun...and he had a good time doing that. I just wanted to lay there and rest, and bask in the fact that I was a new mom....

She was beautiful...They brought her in to me, and I held her and loved her and thanked God that everything was good and she was healthy. It seemed my life was so full.....

Being pregnant...

Mine was a textbook pregnancy. Everything was perfect. I felt good, I looked good, everything was according to schedule. I gained a bit more weight than I should have, but the doctor said I was too skinny to start with...We didn't know if it was a boy or a girl, and we said we didn't care....as long as it was healthy. Isn't that what they always say??

My doctor was the same doctor that I had been going to since I'd lived in that town...well, it was only a couple years at that time. He ended up being my doctor for over 20 years though. He and his wife were also expecting at the same time as I was, which made it even more fun!

The only thing that made me sick while I was pregnant was the smell of coffee...which is strange, because I was a coffee drinker. But, it was not problem..I just didn't drink it while I was pregnant. Wasn't supposed to anyway...I really enjoyed being pregnant, thought, because it felt good. I felt special, people treated you differently - like you were going to break or something. It felt good to be nurturing and feeling a person growing inside of me.

We both were excited, in spite of the fact that we didn't have much money. I started sewing and knitting...making things for the baby. My parents were excited too, cause it was their first grandchild. Even though I don't think they liked Jack, they liked the fact that I was going to give birth to their first grandchild.

All was going well...till about my eighth month. That was when we received an eviction notice from our landlord. We were three months behind in our rent and we had three days to get out. I didn't know what to do...but Jack somehow got an old couple in our church to let us move into one of their rental houses, with the promise that we would pay them. (We were going to a Baptist church at the time..) So it took a day or so for all the friends we had to help us move, and they didn't let me do a thing! It was nice!

The house we moved into was much smaller, but we made do. It had two bedrooms, but all the rooms were really small. At that time, his oldest daughter was not living with us, but his son was.THAT was not a good time. I remember having lots of arguments with him, lots of yelling and Jack having words with him. The boy got into some trouble during that summer. He thought he knew better than anyone. He yelled at me a few times, and I was glad that Jack stood up for me during that time.

We stayed in it for awhile. That was where we lived when my daughter was born in August of 1984, and it was just like Christmas!!

Life goes on....

After living in that first house for about four years, Jack and I found another house in a little town not far from where we were living. We had moved up a little bit, we thought, as he had gone to work for an oil well fracturing outfit and was making pretty good money. This was in the 1980's when the oil industry was booming. The house was bigger, and nicer, and we thought we were doing pretty good. We could even have company and parties...We actually had the room now!

During this time, our friends, Netta and Larry, another couple who were both divorced and had ended up marrying each other, were a big part of our lives. They found a house outside of our little town, and we saw them a lot. She helped me fix up the house that we moved into, and she was also my best friend at the time. She ended being my best friend for a long, long time. We had some good talks, and we shared a lot of intimate things at the time.

We didn't live in that house for very long before Jack, in the midst of his oil fracturing employment, was asked to move to another town in Kansas. This was a pretty big deal for us, but we decided to do it. He went on ahead and lived with some friends for the time being, until I could move out there with all of our stuff, and his kids. I don't remember it taking very long, and we had the move made. His kids were growing up, but still a handful. The oldest was very independent, and I had some big arguments with her about who was going to be boss. The boy, who, when he was small, was very kind and tenderhearted, became lippy and sarcastic. He was a pain to be around. The youngest girl I think was doing fine. When we moved, the oldest came with us, as she was living with us at the time. The other two visited us on weekends, or when they could.

Our new life in the south central Kansas town was fine at first. We found a house that would fit us all, and we were comfortable there for a while. It had a large living room, two bedrooms, a nice back porch, and a big front porch. After we had been there only a little while, our friends, who we had been close to before, also moved to this new town with us. He worked for the same outfit that Jack did, several times, through several jobs. I remember lots of evenings sitting on the porch, drinking beer or coffee, and talking. About kids, about work, about whatever...

The oil well fracturing outfit that Jack worked for decided to go out of business in that town, and we didn't want to move to the Oklahoma town they were going to. So, Jack was out of work, again, and soon found a job with a trucking company. It was with a small company, owned and operated by a woman. She was shrewd, outspoken, a penny-pincher, and sometimes downright rude. I didn't like her, or the fact that he worked for her. He hauled grain for her, and was gone a lot. He lost money while he worked for her, having to get advances on his paycheck. This was a really tough time for us...and for our friends who were also still in the same town with us. He left that job to go to another trucking job in ElDorado, Kansas...he and our friend, Larry. Netta and I and the kids stayed at home, taking care of the kids, eating peanut butter sandwiches, popcorn, and trying to keep our chins up about being so friggin broke all the time. It was not fun...

Netta and Larry decided to pack up and go back to southeast Kansas where they both had family. We stayed in south central Kansas...to keep on going. Before things got too much worse, though, Jack got a job at the local meat-packing company, inside the factory.

This turned out to be a life-changing move for us.

I got pregnant. We had been trying for about 4 years, and I had all but given up on ever having my own child. It was something that I really thought I wanted. I wanted to be a 'mom' at least once in my life. We had the usual doctor's check ups to see if we were 'ok'. I was...he wasn't. His sperm count was low. So...we sort of forgot about it and left it up to God. But, because his sperm count was low, due to his sitting all the time in a truck, his standing in a cool place - the meat packing factory - caused his sperm to come alive!! We think so, anyway!! I was happy..he was happy...it was like things started looking better. We knew that we didn't have the money to raise a child, but, we figured, who does?? We were just going to make the best of it, and do what we could!

On to life...

So, after college was over, I moved to an apartment up in Olathe, Kansas with one of my senior roommates, Laura. I'm not sure how that all came about, I'm sure I had the help of my parents. She got a job teaching in the Olathe schools, and needed a roommate, I'm sure. I had been given a car for graduation....a gift from my parents for graduating in four years. A Chevy Chevette. Dad said it was going to be a plain vanilla car, no radio, no ac, no nothing. And that's what it was! But it was a car, and I loved it!!

Jack was still in my life, and I"m sure that had everything to do with my decision to stay in Kansas...Looking back, I wish now that I'd paid more attention to what I wanted to do with MY life, and not worried about a man and how he was going to fit into my life.

I looked for work all over the place, and wasn't able to find much. I did have a waitress job at a truck stop in Olathe - it lasted about the length of the lunch hour - which I quickly decided I wasn't cut out for. The old biddies that had been there a while didn't want to tell me anything, so I had to fend for myself. I never even went back for my paycheck, such as it was.

I finally found a job at Commerce Bank in Kansas City. I commuted from Olathe every day, which, in rush hour traffic, in 1972, was about a 30 to 45 minute drive. It should have been 15 or 20. But that's the nature of commuting, I guess. I worked in the international department, typing letters of credit. It was my first taste of the corporate world, of co-workers, of office politics, and of being responsible for my own days. It was good and it was bad.

Laura eventually moved out of that apartment, and I think Jack sorta moved in, but then I ended up moving to an apartment in Roeland Park, closer to where I worked. I still was driving back and forth between KC and Jack's home in southeast Kansas. That was not a good thing to do...again, looking back...but I was in love, or thought I was.

What was I thinking? I liked working, and it was good for me. It made me autonomous and powerful, and I don't know why I didn't stay with it. But, of course, I put a man before my own ideals and dreams, and got married in December of that year...to Jack. We stayed in his grandmother's house the first two weeks of our marriage, and THAT alone should have been a huge red flag!! Why was I going from making my own money, to living in someone else's grandmother's house?? And he had three little kids!! But...I was happy, and I was in love.....

So, we moved all my stuff from my apartment in KC to a house in a town not far from where Jack had lived with his grandmother. It happened to be across the alley from his dad and stepmom, and was not a bad little house. I was happy...again, because I was with my man, and he was good to me. I didn't even think about what the consequences of my decision would be, or what it would be like to be an "instant" mom to those three little kids. I just assumed they wouldn't interfere in my ideal life....I even thought I liked his family across the alley, but that proved to be a blessing and a curse..in the long run.

It didn't take long for me to find a job in at an electronics factory, in a town about 16 miles away. I was secretary to the shipping manager, and it was a pretty good job. An office job, and just what I thought I should have...and a good place to start. I liked my co-workers, and my boss. I worked Monday through Friday, 8 to 5..so I had weekends free. I was probably there for a couple years...maybe not that long...and then I decided to go to work at the dress factory closer to home. It paid more, and it was piece work, so I could get more money. It wasn't what I went to college to do, but I figured....I need to make as much money as I can!!

Jack was working then, but throughout that time, and our whole marriage, he worked off and on. I remember there being lots of times when I was the only one working in the household. I didn't like it...but I didn't say much about it. I just kept working, and he would do the housework. At least he did that...I can be thankful for that.

That's one thing about me that I know for sure. During the time that I was married to Jack, I was a very submissive, non-threatening, quiet sort of wife. I don't know why, exactly, nor where that came from. But I remember not wanting to rock the boat, make waves, and make him mad. Not that he was threatening in any way, I guess I just didn't think it would have been a good idea. I think I was assertive in some ways, but not in others. I didn't stand up to him...I was just very non-confrontational at the time.

I am that way now, but I think I have come full circle. More on that later...

We had his kids on some weekends, and that was a trial, for sure. His ex was a part of their lives, and I wasn't really sure how to take that. I can only imagine what she must have thought of me, being so young and married to her ex...helping to raise HER kids!! Now that I am a mom, I don't even know what she must have gone through!! I didn't talk to her - I just found out what little Jack would tell me about her, and what she was doing. I didn't even ask the kids about her. I tried to be a friend to the kids, not a mom, and to get along with them the best I could. It wasn't so hard when they were little. It was when they grew up to become teens that I had a hard time....I guess they liked me, but it never occurred to me ask anyone..

This is really hard for me to write about...and I'm not sure why. I am having a hard time going back and thinking about all these things that happened, the order they happened in, and bringing up the memories. I will do this, it just may take some time...

The last year...

The summer between my junior and senior years of college was different from any others. I was finally feeling like I was growing up..or at least it seemed that way. I think, if my memory is right, I spent that summer at Baker, taking summer classes, and living in the off-campus housing that I would live in during the next school year. It was an old house, not far from the campus, that untold numbers of others had lived in over the years. But me, and three other senior girls were going to live in it this year! There was a big living room, kitchen, bath and bedroom on the main floor. Then upstairs was another little kitchen, a big bathroom, and three bedrooms. I took one of the bedrooms upstairs, as did two of the other girls. One of the girls took the downstairs bedroom...which made her a little isolated from us. It all seemed to work out, as she liked it that way.

I may have gone home for a while that summer, but most of that summer was spent in the house in Baldwin. I remember the loneliness of the house, the quietness, the emptiness.

Jack had told me at the end of my junior year that he was taking off for Texas with a buddy and he didn't know when he'd be back. It broke my heart, but I really had no choice. I didn't like it at all. But I went on with my life the best I could...Oh, what a sad girl I was...with my man gone. I look back now, and I wonder how I could have been so stupid!! How could I have put all my emotions and my energies into a man and his whims??

That was the year that I met a freshman football player. I'm not sure how I met him, but I haven't forgotten him, even to this day. He isn't someone that I think I could have spent the rest of my life with, but I sure thought about it at the time. His name was Mike...he was from the east coast - Connecticut, I think - had long hair, and just seemed to be the epitome of a young man with lots of energy. We got along great, probably because I paid alot of attention to him, and fed his ego. But there was something redeeming about him, too. We had some great conversations, and he was very attentive to me as well. Plus, the fact that he was four years younger than me, and was on the football team didn't hurt!! I think he was a chauvinist...he said that was the way he was raised, but it didn't seem to come out much in our relationship. He was good in bed, and he was fun. But he didn't stay at Baker but one semester. He went back to Connecticut at mid-term, and that was the end of us. He was unforgettable, though.

Jack had been gone all that time, and I had not heard from him once! I remember praying for him every night. (I was attending a local Baptist church at the time....what can I say? I needed to 'belong' somewhere!) He had said he was going to write to me, but he never did. I really figured I'd never see him again. My roommates didn't think too highly of him because of that, and they advised me to forget about him....which I thought I was doing...but our minds play tricks on us sometimes! I did go out with other guys during that time, in my efforts to move on.

Along about that time, and I don't know if it was before Mike left or after, Jack came back. One night he just showed up on the doorstep, just like in the movies!! Of course I let him in. Of course, I forgave him. Stupid me...when I look back. I should have been furious with him for so many reasons! But of course I wasn't.

I guess I've always been a forgiving person, almost to the point of being a doormat. And I don't know that it was always the best way to be. When I look back now, I don't understand why I was that way, and I hate that I WAS that way. I am still a very peace-loving woman, but I am much more assertive now, and look at things from a very different point of view now. It's not ALWAYS about the other person now...I take my own feelings into consideration!

His explanation was not what I'd expected at all. He hadn't even BEEN in Texas all summer and fall, like he'd told me!! He had gone to Wyoming to see his kids, live there with them, and even try to get back with his ex-wife, for the sake of the kids. This all came out over the course of several days, and several conversations. I figured he was telling the truth. He said that he missed his kids terribly, felt guilty about not being around them, and just wanted to do what he thought was right. I could understand all that...even agree with him. I just didn't see the need for the lie that he told me at the beginning of the summer. He probably told me that he started out going to Texas. I don't know... Anyway, he said he left his kids in the middle of the night, crying all the way across Wyoming for them, because he couldn't stand living with his ex anymore, even for the kids. He said he came straight to me..

Well, that's all it took. Tell me you left your kids and drove all night to come to me!? Yep, he had me hooked. I guess he hung around with me for a while, then he went back to his grandmother's house in his home town a couple hours away. I felt whole again! He was back! I could breathe again!! My prayers had been answered...


I continued with school that year. My interterm project, though, took me back to Norway. I went home for that month, in January, and spent it working on an independent project on Salvador Dali. I just wanted to stay at home and not go anywhere for that month. I stayed in contact with Jack during that time...we talked by phone a few times, but mostly I wrote him letters and he wrote me too. That was our main way of staying in contact. I had a great time visiting with my parents, and hanging with my brother. Mom and dad did a lot of entertaining that year, cause dad had become quite the mucky-muck with Phillips by that time. I didn't realize it, but mom was really trying to get dad to slow down and relax, cause he was under a lot of stress. But I had a good time, and where we lived was gorgeous. I did some sewing, listened to music, walked around town, listened to the locals, and just generally spent time as a visitor in Norway.

Jack hung out with me that spring, and brought his friends with him...Buzz, Ed...Goober. They were all like him - bikers, and/or dopers. I'm sure they thought a campus full of girls was like a candy store to them!! Jack had a '49 Harley panhead bike that he had chopped out, and I rode on it plenty. He even did an accidental wheelie one time, and I just about got thrown off. I spent time with him in his home town, riding around, drinking, and doing whatever he wanted to do. Looking back, it was not the best kind of life, and certainly not the kind of life that a college girl sensibly should be involved in. "Sensibly"..that was the operative word. I thought I was in love...and I just didn't see the things I should have seen about him...the things that I WISH I'd seen about him.

He was a good man...just not the kind of man I should have fallen for.

I finished my senior year at college and graduated in June. It was a fun time, as all the girls in the house I lived in were graduating as well. We had a great time that spring, and it all culminated in graduation. We had sort of a party at our house afterwards. My parents were there, and so were my grandparents. Jack came on his motorcycle and my parents and grandparents hated him. They just didn't say anything. Not a word. I found out just a few years ago that my grandfather stayed in the car while the rest of them came in..just because he didn't like Jack. He was pouting...I wish they had said something now....I don't know that I would have listened to them at the time...but at least there would have been some seeds planted. As it was, I thought I knew what I was doing....I thought I loved him.

My junior year...

After another summer at home, which was, I think, the year that we moved to Stavanger, in Norway, and Jeannie was visiting that summer too. She helped us move. I don't think my mother minded...but I don't know. She was a really big help. Moving is never fun, but it helped that Phillips moved all the big stuff for us, and all we had to do was pack our own stuff, and then be there to place all the stuff when it got there on the moving van. I had a good time with Jeannie there, and having the summer to do some more exploring around Norway and learning more about it. What a beautiful country! And Stavanger was a gorgeous place. Right on the sea....

My junior year at Baker was the year that I met Jack, who would later become my husband. I met him through a friend I had there at school. He lived in a town that was a couple hours from Baldwin. I am not sure what attracted me to him. Maybe it was the mistaken belief that since he was attracted to me, I coudn't do any better...that I'd better just hang on to him. But I do think there was something about him that I liked. He was tall, big, older, a biker, seemingly street smart, and he was good to me. We spent a lot of time going back and forth to see each other. He lived with his grandmother in another town, he was divorced - newly- and he had three small children by his first wife. Looking back, that should have been a major red flag for a young college student like I was. But I was blinded by love..or the idea of being in love. I'm not sure which. My friends, some of them, tried to tell me that he would never marry me...blah, blah, blah...but I wouldn't listen. I'm not sure marrying was what I had in mind anyway. We had great sex, too, and I thought that was a good sign.

In the fall of that year...I found out I was pregnant. Jack was the father, of course. I was devastated, but not surprised. We had talked about the fact that we weren't using protection. He even said - and I remember this clearly - "You don't know what you're asking me...to put that on!" He had also said he'd "take care of me" if anything happened. Well, I thought, the time is here for you to "take care of me!"

I'm not sure what his idea of taking care of me was, but our immediate reaction was to have an abortion. Which I had. And which I feel like was not what I would have chosen had I had the time to think it through. But who knows? My parents were in favor of it, the Dean of Students talked to me about it, and all my friends were all for it. After all, the Roe v. Wade law had just passed the year before, and we (women) were feeling quite liberated and empowered by it. So..why not? It was a given...an understood thing. So, I went through with it, and he helped pay for it. To this day, it's very, very hard for me to think about it, let alone talk about it. It took me many, many years to tell anyone, or to speak it out loud. Guilty? Yes.... I felt very guilty, even though it was legal. But, as my mother used to say, just because it's legal doesn't make it right. To this day, I have mixed feelings about abortion. I had such unbelievable emotional repercussions from it, I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But that was just me. Who knows what someone else would feel.

Surprisingly, Jack stuck around after the abortion, stayed by my side, and continued to be my 'boyfriend'. It was a hard year, though, because of that, but we kept on seeing each other, and having a good time. We didn't have much money, so we hung around my dorm when he would come to see me. I met his kids and they were ....well, kids. Very small at that time. The youngest was not even 2 years old. His ex-wife, whom I didn't meet till later, was, by Jack's description, not a great mom. She had her own demons to deal with, and he didn't really want to be a part of it. It was unknown at the time whether or not he would be able to see his kids from one week to the next, let alone be a part of their lives. And all I knew was that I wanted to be with him...I didn't even think about having a 'ready-made family'!!

It was a volatile time around the country. Not only were women raising their voices about lots of issues, and wishing to be heard, there was the Vietnam issue, and race issues. It was a good time to be young and intelligent and aware. I finished out the year squeaking by with average grades and made plans to come back next year to live off-campus with three other girls. We were all going to be seniors, so it would be a good plan.

Continuing on as a sophomore...

After my freshman year, I went home to Norway to spend the summer with my folks. It was nice, after those few months away, to get back and spend some time with them. I slept till noon most days, and didn't do a whole lot. They lived in a penthouse - at least that's what we liked to call it, cause it was the whole top floor of a small apartment building - and it was a really nice place. Explored the city and learned about the Norwegian way of life. Hung out with my mom and my brother, even though he was still in high school, and in his own world. The Norwegians are a beautiful people, and the city was beautiful as well. Very clean. And the socialist government made for no extremes of rich or poor among the people. I kind of liked that. We started to learn a little bit of the Norwegian language, cause my mom and dad were of the mind that when you're in a foreign country, you should try to assimilate yourself to it. I agree...Why should they speak MY language? I'm a visitor there! But, we found out that they wanted to practice their English on us.

Baker had an Interterm in their schedule. It was a month - in January - where a student could pick from some scheduled projects, or do one on their own, as part of their class curriculum. I tried to figure out what I could do and still not have to go back to the campus, and make it work with my holiday in Norway. I was also still in contact with the guy that I had met in Athens the summer before, who lived in Brooklyn, NY. So I found out about an interterm project in New York City with the sociology department. So, as the end of my holiday in Norway, I flew into NYC and met up with the group that was there for the Urban Studies Interterm. Even though my motives were selfish, I ended being really glad that I went! And...I did NOT end up seeing Bob. I guess he blew me off. One of my first of many experiences with men blowing me off....another story.

The group stayed at the YMCA in Manhattan, and went to places like a halfway house, the projects, an off-off Broadway play, and a few other non-touristy places. We also did get to see Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Centers, which were not even completed yet, and the Empire State Building. I enjoyed walking along the streets in NY. There were so many people, and so many different kinds!! What an experience!! I haven't been back there since then, but I'm sure it's changed. We spent some time at a Howard Johnson's restaurant, and I met a man there, an older man, who warmed my heart. I remember feeling good about him after talking with him. It was a good trip, and I learned a lot, but I have always wanted to go back. There's always something happening in NYC!! I really don't think I could live there - I love nature way too much for that - but I do think I would like the excitement and the culture there.

After that great experience, I headed back to Baker for the second semester of my freshman year. I'm not sure when it was that I lost my virginity...but I do remember who it was, and how it happened. An experience I won't forget, but I am sorry that it was with someone I"ll probably never, ever see again, and that I was drinking at the time. Unfortunately, I hadn't given it much thought...like some do. I hadn't said to myself "Oh this is how I'd like to lose my virginity!" No, it just happened. And I hate that. But ...that's the way it is. Can't change it now. I'm just glad it wasn't traumatic or violent.

I guess I did my share of drinking that first year. All college freshmen do. Little did I know what it would lead to in later years.

That summer I went home to Norway again, and I think it was that year that my grandparents came over and we did some traveling around Europe while they were there. It was that summer that I met a girl in Oslo who was an American from Minnesota, and who was studying Norwegian studies at a college there. She was in Norway doing some kind of overseas study thing, and we hit it off right away. It was great. Her name was Kris Rustad, and we hung out quite a bit that summer. We also met a couple of Moroccan men, which was fun, too. We had a great time trying to communicate with them. They didn't speak English, nor did they want to, but they did speak French, so that's how we communicated. Kris and I had a minimal knowledge of French. They took us around Oslo, cooked for us, and generally showed us a good time. I loved their Moroccan food, and the sort of mysterious, dark feeling they had about them. I thought I had fallen in love, his name was Amar, but looking back, that was really stupid. The only saving grace was the he didn't even want to come to the US!! I thought that was good...

Kris said goodbye, went back to the States, and we promised to keep in touch. I stayed in Oslo until it was time for me to return to Baker for my sophomore year.

I was still in touch with my friend from Herringswell - Jeannie - and talked her into applying, and being accepted - to Baker U. So it was in the plans that she would come to Baker that year. She was a year behind me in school, and had just graduated from Herringswell. So it was with much pleasure that she and I roomed together at the dorm my sophomore year. It was so good to have a close friend come to join me there!! The only problem was that I had already been there a year, knew my way around and had made a few friends, and she had just started. I tried to include her in all that I did, but she had some difficulty deciding what she wanted to do in her classes. We had a good time, anyway.

I had changed my major to philosophy, religion, sociology, psychology...whatever mood I was in that day. I think I finally settled on Foreign Languages, simply because they came easy to me. Jeannie and I did lots of things together and made lots of friends. It was good to be with her, and to have a familiar face around me. I'm not sure she really liked it, cause she ended up leaving after her first year.

I don't remember much about my sophomore year, other than what I've already talked about. I think that might have been the year that I walked with the VVAW in their walk against the war, but it might have been my junior year. I was still in the dorm - I stayed in the dorm until my senior year.

College as a freshman...

Yes, it had to be hard to leave their only girl at college that year. They left me at my dorm, called Denious Hall, and they took off to go back to Norway, with my little brother in tow. I'm sure they were going to make a stop or two at the grandparents' house before going back overseas.

Well, there I was. At a small college in Kansas....just like I wanted. It was a beautiful campus...plenty of trees, gorgeous buildings, and all those students to get to know....I was shy...and it was hard for me to make friends, but I did ok, despite that. My roommate, whom I had already met, was from the Kansas City area, and so she seemed pretty familiar with everything. She also seemed a bit flaky. But who was I to say?? The rooms were arranged in twos, with a bathroom in between. So there were two girls in each room, making up a suite. My suite-mates were SO badly matched it wasn't even funny. One of them was a bleached blond cheerleader type from the KC area as well, and the other was a long haired, peace-loving ballet dancer that didn't look kindly on nonsense. It was a terrible match. And I think they knew it from the start. I became friends with the dancer right off, and the other girl became friends with my roommate. So it worked out ok....

I walked around the campus, to my classes, anywhere I needed to go, cause I didn't have a car. We looked on the students who DID have a car as being either very rich or very lucky. But really, unless we wanted to go out of town, there was no need for a car. It was just a luxury that we couldn't afford. Walking was good, anyway. And when you had a friend with you, it was even better.

We explored the downtown part of Baldwin, which was basically two streets long. There was a post office, a bank, a jewelry store, a general store, a movie theatre (open only on weekends), a hardware store, and a few other gift shops, etc. The general store was where we spent most of our time, looking around and making a few purchases. They had all kinds of stuff.

The college itself had lots of organizations that you could join. This was 1972 and there was a lot going on in the world at that time. I remember the black organization called Mungano; and there was probably a political society of some sort; a Native American group; a theatre group. I remember getting involved in the Vietnam Veterans Against the War through some friends. I'm not sure if it was that year, or maybe the next year. But I participated in a walk they had that was 20 miles long....through Lawrence and around through another little town. There were vets in wheelchairs, with canes, and I remember thinking "If they can do it, so can I." It was a very peaceful demonstration, and I'm sure it showed a lot of people what the VVAW was all about.

It was a time of protest, of rethinking your values, of joining or not joining, of finding who you were. And I did just that....

I was sucked into a sorority that year as well. Since my mom had been a Tri-Delt, I could have joined that sorority just by being her daughter. But Rush Week, that week where you go around and visit all the houses, showed me that I really didn't want to belong to that group. Each one of them had sort of a label. The Alpha Chi's were all cute and pretty; the Phi Mu's were jocks; the Tri-Delts were cute and pretty too, and the Zeta Tau's were pretty normal...maybe even nerds. But they seemed the most down-to-earth to me, and so I agreed to pledge that sorority. I had some good friends there...and they had fun. But it wasn't long before I realized that I didn't belong to that groups...or any group. I really didn't want to belong to any organization where you had to be their friend, to the exclusion of other groups. I wanted to get to know everyone! And so I ended up de-pledging that same year. I wanted to be an 'independent'!!!

Sadly, I remember getting involved in some drinking, and that lead to the loss of my virginity. I guess that was part of the college scene at the time, and probably still is. There was a little beer joint on the highway that we went to for fun....but there was also drinking going on in the dorms and the fraternity houses....well, there was plenty off campus too...in some of the off-campus housing. I don't think it was really my thing...but I joined in anyway. I dated...but I was so confused about what was expected of me as a woman in the company of a guy...it all got screwed up. I don't know where it came from, and maybe all young girls go through this, but I probably equated sex with love. Relationships confounded me from the start.....

So..I fell in and out of love several times that year. But I got through it somehow.

Oh yea...my classes!! I started out, like I said, majoring in music. I had lots of classes in music, piano, and then the regular freshman requirements. It was great, and I really enjoyed it. I did decide, however, that year, that I didn't want to practice piano quite that much. I realized it was just a recreational thing for me...but I stayed with it that year. I was trying to decide what else I could major in, though. The academics at Baker were really good, and I liked that school a lot. The library was the greatest. A big tall two story building, and the second story looked down on the first when you were inside. They had lots of historical things to see in there, stained glass windows from the old buildings and churches..things like that. And since it was a Methodist school, the Methodist church was a big deal for the town. I went there a few times, and was in awe of the building. Many of the buildings on campus were old...as, I found out, Baker was the oldest school in Kansas.

High school to college....

I guess the main reason I decided to go to college in Kansas was because I knew that I had been born there, but that we'd never lived there as a family...at least not in my memory. And I really wanted to see it. So I applied and was accepted to Baker University, a small four-year liberal arts school that had a really good music program.

Music is what I thought I wanted to pursue...most especially piano. I felt at the time that it was the only thing I was good at, and so I decided to major in it. I wasn't sure what I wanted to to do with it, really...but I just knew that I wanted to get better at it. I loved learning new instruments as well, and I thought that would serve me well in my musical career.

So, the summer after I graduated high school from Herringswell, I went home to Oslo. But first, I had a chance to spend two weeks in Athens, Greece with my good friend Jeannie. Her mother was Greek, and so her grandmother still lived in Athens, where we were able to stay. Plus, Jeannie had been corresponding with a guy who was in the Navy at the time, and his fleet was going to be in the port at Athens...Not a bad reason to go there... My parents decided that was a good graduation present for me, so off I went. It was a fun trip. We explored the ruins, the Parthenon, and all the other Greek places that you only see in pictures. We spent time relaxing in the square, sipping on wine or whatever, watching the people. We walked through the old part of town, got something to eat from the vendors - souvlaki - where they cut off a hunk of the cooking lamb, throw it on pita bread along with vegetables, and hand it to you! It was so delicious!! I learned a little bit of Greek, but mostly we just used hand language, and crippled along that way. Oh yes, we did get to hang out with a few Navy men, too.

The rest of the summer I spent getting ready for college, packing my stuff so it could go by air, and spending time with my family. I loved living there. The summers are great in Oslo. Lots of sunshine, long days, and happy people. There was lots to see there too. I especially loved the park where there were dozens of statues of people...and then the final sculpture of people all entwined together in a huge monolisk. It was a nice park. I forget the name of the artist who had done those sculptures.

When the time came, I flew to the States to go to Baker University, and mom, dad, and Chuck all came with me to get me settled in. We probably stopped to see the grandparents, but I don't really remember. It was good to finally get there, and I was impressed with the campus. The people were all really nice. Fall is a gorgeous time at Baker, because of all the maple leaves turning color. They have a Maple Leaf Festival there each fall.

But, as much as I liked getting to college, it was still very, very hard for me to see mom and dad leave me there...I knew they were going to go back to Norway...a long ways away...and I wouldn't see them until Christmas, probably. I know it was just as hard on them...or harder...to leave me there. Dad and I have talked about this since then...he said he really didn't want to leave me...but he felt like he didn't have any choice.

My year at Herringswell

I was enrolled in Herringswell Manor school in England...at Bury St. Edmunds...a boarding school, because my family had moved to Oslo, Norway. I hated being separated from them at such a young age, but it had to be....so I tried to be grown-up about it. It was close to Newmarket and Cambridge, England, and was way out in the country.

They put me in a small dorm room with another girl, Janet. I guess the head mistress thought that would be good for both of us. We were both spending our first years there...and she probably thought we'd be good for each other. We weren't up there with all the other seniors, but we were still seniors, and had the few privileges that the senior girls had, like tv, and off-limits to the younger girls.

I believe the school was only 8th grade on up to 12th, so there weren't very many kids there.

Janet and I eventually moved in with the other senior girls, in one of the two big rooms for the senior girls. There were five beds in one room and four in the other. They were on either side of the headmistress and head teachers quarters. We had one big bathroom to share, with toilets, showers and sinks. We had to go downstairs to the dining room to eat meals, and breakfast was pretty early. Mornings were crazy, with all of us girls getting dressed, brushing teeth, taking showers, and all the stuff you do before breakfast. We were able to come back up to our rooms after breakfast to grab our school stuff and head out.

This was where I learned to like coffee. I had to doctor it up with lots of cream and sugar, but it was good. I'm not sure why I drank it....All of the high school kids ate in one room. It was probably the whole school, but I'm not sure. It was served family style, where we all sat at assigned tables, and were served the food in big bowls. I found out that the servers, and maybe the cooks, couldn't read. That must have been difficult. "Dunno, do I?" was one of the sayings that we repeated when one of the ruddy-cheeked servers was asked a question.

I got to know all of the senior girls. We would often sit around and talk, exchange stories about our lives, talk about the boys in the school, or some of the younger girls. We would also exchange dresses, too, since we had to wear dresses, and we got tired of the same ones all the time, we thought it would be more interesting to wear each other's clothes. It became a confusing, running joke for the boys. "Whose dress is that?" they would ask? We must have been all about the same size. I also remember wrapping my hair that year. That was a technique that we learned to straighten our hair...even if it had a wave in it. I would roll the top part on a couple of huge rollers - the bigger the better - and then wrap the rest of my hair around my head, securing it with large bobby pins. Looked wierd, but it worked!! Long, straight hair!!

I took piano lessons from an English woman who came to the school once a week or once a month. I practiced and took the lessons in the billiard room of the old manor house that was the school. It just happened to be the room that had a piano in it. I learned a lot from the woman there, and I really enjoyed continuing my lessons at Herringswell.

The school itself - It was in an old English manor home....huge building!! And so beautiful! As far as I could tell, everything was pretty much as it had been when it was a home, but it was now converted into dorms, offices, and dining room. But the staircase was still there...the woodwork was beautiful...you could see some of the elegant things that only an old home like that would have. I'm sure there were servants quarters, or nanny's rooms, and the front of the house was the main part, with the sun room, the morning room, or whatever they were called. The windows were spectacular, giving out a great view of the lawn where we played field hockey and soccer. We were not allowed to go into the woods, but I spent many hours wandering around out there....on the edge of the woods.

I loved England...it was full of history. Sometimes, when we would go to a town on the weekend, friends and I would explore the town, maybe get a brass rubbing, check out the tea places, or look at the shops. Everything was so old and quaint, and I loved the people. They were always very polite, and they tried to accommodate us! The countryside was gorgeous as well, and there was lots of the thatch-roofed cottages that you see only in photos, dotting the landscape. It was easy to imagine Shakespeare, or the Artful Dodger in any of the scenes I saw!!!

The teachers - There was Miss Petrie, who was the head teacher. Prim, proper, Scottish lady. She also taught the senior English, which was mostly vocabulary words and some reading. Miss McFadyen, the headmistress, and lived with Miss Petrie. I think they might have been gay...but I do know they took an alcoholic nip each night. We could smell it on them sometimes. I guess that's what the British did when they wanted to relax. There was also Miss xxxx, who was the French teacher. She was really nice, a bit harsh, but still had a good heart. We girls really liked her. She had come from Belgium, or somewhere like that, spoke really good English, but was still fluent in several other languages. Miss xxxx who was American, and taught math, I think, to the lower grades. I don't think she was ever my teacher, but she would come up to the senior girls room and visit with us. Mr. xxxx was the Social Studies teacher. He was American, had kind or long hair, and was a bit weird, but ok. I fancied myself in love with him. There was also the PE teacher. He was English. I will never forget the times we were playing field hockey and he said "Hard luck. Play on!" when we would fall, or get hurt. It was his Volkswagen bug that the senior boys picked up and moved out into the field at the end of our senior year, as a prank.

I DID learn how to study there. We had a study hall every night after supper for an hour, and everyone was required to go. It was even segregated, so we didn't get to see the boys until the next day. They were real sticklers about the sexes not touching each other. I know it didn't stop some couples - they went into the woods and did their thing anyway!!

Every once in a while we would have a dance, or get to go somewhere on the bus to another town....but mostly we stayed there at the school. The kids whose parents lived in London, or somewhere close, could go home every weekend, but there were also those of us whose parents lived in another country. Some of the girls' parents lived in Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, and other places far away. I think maybe Norway was one of the closest, actually!!

When it came time to graduate, there were 23 of us. The speech that was given by Miss McFadyen was quite disparaging for our class, I remember. She talked about how apathetic we were, and how she couldn't remember a class that was less motivated to do anything. I thought it was not very nice to say those things at graduation, when all our parents and grandparents were there!

My parents were there, and so were Gma and Gpa. They came all the way over from Ohio...not just to see me, but to travel around Europe, too. It was great that they were there...and I know they liked it. I'm sure Chuck was there too, but I doubt that Jim was. The diploma we got was a beautiful one done with calligraphy. I still have it.

It was a good year. I learned a lot. I am grateful for the experience, and I will never forget it. But, I am also glad that I was only there one year. There were things that were not so fun...and I remember being quite lonely and homesick at times. When it was time to pack up and go, I got all my stuff in a trunk, and a suitcase. I was going to college back in the states...in Kansas!!

Going overseas

It was the summer following my year at East Denver High School that dad came home with the news that we would all be moving overseas...to London. Looking back, that has to be the opportunity of a lifetime for us kids..and I'm sure that's how mom and dad viewed it at the time. But for me, a 17 year old just getting ready to start her senior year of high school, it was a really bad idea! Moving anywhere was a bad idea! Leave my friends? Not be able to finish out my high school years at the same school? I hadn't even gone to the same school two years in a row, and now I was going to yet another school? And overseas? What would it be like? I think I tried to be open minded, but it was hard.

We were going to spend some time in Dayton, visiting Grandma and Grandpa, and then go on to London. My cousin, Becky, and I were going to spend three weeks with Gma and Gpa on the road with their camper as, I guess, a way for all of us to get to know each other better! I was excited about that idea...I always liked spending time with Becky..and the idea of three weeks on the road with Gma and Gpa sounded like fun.As it turned out, it was great!

We left Dayton and headed up through Michigan, Sault. Ste. Marie, crossed over into Canada, and headed east. We made stops in major cities like Ontario, Quebec, Montreal...and also stopped in smaller towns. We camped in campgrounds, experienced THAT particular lifestyle, and visited all the great places we could find along the way. We had a lot of car time, too...and I remember Becky and I listened to the radio and did a lot of snoozing in the back seat.

The scenery was great...what we saw of it!! Niagara Falls was one of the places where we stopped, and it was pretty spectacular! I know I probably won't ever get to go there again, so I was glad to see it when I did. We also went to the place where the 1970 World Expo had been in Montreal just the year before. We had a good time just looking at everything there.Beck and I really got to know each other better on this trip...and she and I got to know Gma and Gpa much better too. It was eye-opening for both of us...probably all of us...and I have had many chances since then to think on that experience. Two generations coming together and spending some good times in close proximity...no better way to learn about each other!!

One night Becky and I would stay in the camper, and Gma and Gpa would stay in the tent. Then the next night we would reverse it. Sometimes we would eat cheese, then raisins, depending on our digestion!! We would sometimes eat out, or cook in the camper. We learned so much about Canada and the area, and Grandpa wanted to check out our name in the cemeteries, too. The Archambeaults came from that area, and it was interesting to him to know more about us. I wish now that I had paid more attention to all that.

We were glad to get home to Dayton. Mom and Dad had already headed over to London, I think, and so I flew over there alone.I don't remember a whole lot about the summer we spent in London. I know we stayed in a nice hotel the whole time, because our furniture was taking a long time to get over there. I was going to go to the American School there in London, and mom took me there to look around. It seemed alright. We ate breakfast most every morning in this cute little Italian restaurant down the street from our hotel. They had the best minestrone soup and "Fantarorange" drink. We got to know the Italian folks that ran that place pretty well. It was fun. I know Mom was having a good time eating out all the time. I learned so much about fine dining, and how to order, and what was the good food and what wasn't.

We visited alot of the places that tourists go in London. Madame Tussaud's wax museum - I loved that! The people were all very life-like and unbelievably real-looking. We also went to Trafalgar Square, rode on a double-decker bus, rode on the Tube, or underground train, and learned about all the various places in London that we could go. It was a huge city, even back then, but it seemed to be made up of a lot of little cities. Mayfair was the name of the little neighborhood that we lived in...in our hotel. We saw Big Ben, the big clock, we saw the guards in their tall red hats guarding the palace where the Queen lives, and we saw a lot of the parks where the nannies take their charges and sit...It was all very ...English...and I loved the experience!! This was in the 70's...and things had stared to get big on the rock and roll scene. The Who, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles....It was fun to be in the middle of it!!

So, by the end of the summer...or maybe before...dad found out that he was going to be transferred to Oslo, Norway. We weren't going to live in London after all! Mom mentioned that it was too bad, cause when you think you're going to live somewhere, you don't always bother to go to all the places you want to...you think..Oh, I'll be here a while, so I can go there then. It didn't turn out that way after all. But, the idea of going to Norway excited mom, I know. However, there was a glitch. The American school there in Oslo that I needed to attend only went to 10th grade, and I was going to be a senior. So we, as a family, had to hurry up and find and choose a boarding school for me to go to...We looked at several in Switzerland, I know, and several in England. We decided on the one that I went to...Herringswell Manor, an hour or so from London.

I don't know how Mom and Dad felt about it...but it was not what I had envisioned for me at the age of 17!! I wasn't ready to leave home!! It all happened so suddenly! And the school was not that warm or friendly. I don't really remember how we all felt...but when I think back about it now, it makes my heart hurt, and lump comes up in my throat. It must have been how my parents felt when they left me there. I knew that I wouldn't see them except at holidays.

On they went to Norway without me....Mom, Dad and Chuck.....

Early high school

I would love to write a book, and I don't think it's for fame or the money, but just because I love books so much, and because I love writing so much.Become a child again...talk about the things that happened to me as a child with the recklessness and freedom of a child...

We went racing outside to join the other kids. I don't know who was out there, cause we had just finished supper, and it was dusk. But we wanted to play hide n seek or Spud, and we had to have several kids to do that! There was the McGrath kids...several of them. They must have their homework done. Their mom won't let them outside until they finished their homework, too. There's Cathy, from across the street. The Enright girls....well, on e of them, and Larry Pomarico...That's enough for a game. Who's going to be it?? Looks like Chris is. He's counting to 50 and now I have to hide. Where should I go? I run off down the street towards a house across the street that is usually pretty quiet. I wonder who lives there? It's a white house, and there is a dog in the back yard.I must be quiet or the dog will bark. I find a crevice in the side of the house that I can squeeze myself into and then I wait for Chris to start looking for people. I hear him. He's finished counting. I can't quite tell where he is, or where he's walking. I listen intently and feel the tingling in my legs. It's kind of a rush waiting for someone to find you when you're hiding. I hated to be caught and I hated to get outrun when I'm running to the base. so I try to hide somewhere where they won't even find me. But the problem is, if I'm the last to be found, I'll for sure get caught or be outrun on the way to the base. I peek around the corner, and see that he's heading the other way down the street to look for kids. Now's my chance! I gotta take it! I run without even thinking about it.,.I take off across the yard, off the curb and into the street. I'm running towards the big tree that we used as base, and when he hears my feet hitting the pavement he turns around and starts running toward the base tree too! Oh I'm gonna make it! I'm gonna be FREE! I hit the tree with my hand and run past it, before he gets there! Whew! I hold off getting caught one more time!

My first year of high school was at George Washington High in Denver. All white kids. That was back when dress codes were still pretty strict and we couldn't wear jeans....really, no pants of any kind were allowed for women. I got sunburned really badly on my legs that year, though, from the medicine I was taking, and had to wear pants. Nobody said anything. It was kind of an uneventful year, and I don't really remember much about it. I remember having a friend named Mona..and a few other friends. That was one of the years that I didn't really like math. I had a teacher who, it seemed, thought he was pretty special. I got the feeling that, even though he was a small man, he was trying to over compensate for it by being arrogant and not helping us at our math. The campus was nice, and the school was fairly new.

The next year I went to East Denver High over on Colfax. That was a memorable year! Because of the mandatory desegregation in 1971, I was forced to go to East. It was predominantly black and Hispanic, and they wanted us all to integrate. I had to take the city bus to get there, and walk a few blocks on either end of it. It was ok, I got to see parts of the city I probably wouldn't normally have gotten to see. Had that time to reflect and talk to my friends. The building that East was in was an old building, and I guess it's still being used. It was a beautiful building, and it was in a mostly black neighborhood. Probably some Hispanic too.

I had a lot of fun there. The friends I made were good friends. I was on the swim team that year too, and we swam at GW's pool. I was in the best shape of my life that year, because of the daily workouts we had. I really liked the meets, and I specialized in the backstroke. We had divers and swimmers on the team, and I just had a great time hanging out with the girls and competing with other schools. I was also in the band, which marched at the football games. That was a lot of fun, too. We were like a family, just like the swim team. We went to all the games, and learned to have a great time watching football, marching, and playing.

Seems like I was really busy that year, between swim team, and band and school. But it was so much fun, and I have the best memories of high school that year.

Also in that year, 1971, a lot of racial issues were apparent. We had open campus lunch and I walked over to the Safeway to get something to eat with a couple other girls. On the way back, somehow we got involved in what I learned later was the beginning of a race riot. At least, that's what they were trying to get started. There was a lot of yelling, and I got hit in the head with a full can of pop. I am not sure what happened after that...if I told any of the teachers or my parents...but it was certainly an eye opener for me. Thankfully, I didn't carry hate with me after that...just the opposite, I think I could see and empathize with those who were angry. I have carried that with me over the years. I am able to look at life through the eyes of those who are trying to make a point, or who are disadvantaged in some way...oppressed....

How peaceful school in this small town I live in now seems. How uneventful and calm it all is. And I guess that's a good thing. I don't guess that people need to be exposed to hate and violence. But I do think that kids especially need to be able to see the other side of things, to see that there are people who are not so fortunate, that there are other ways of living and dealing with life. It seems when you grow up in a small town, and hardly ever leave, it insulates you from what else is going on. You can read about it in books but sometimes it's good to see it and experience it.

Reading...and friends

Our move to Denver happened in 1964, sometime during my fourth grade.  I don't remember what month it was in, but must have been during the summer, between school years.  I  remember we all piled into the red '64 Ford Falcon, with Cowboy, the dog, and drove to Denver. It was a long drive, but we were on our way to a new life!  Our furniture was coming later.  We had seen a picture of the house Dad bought already - one that he had brought back with him from the realtor - and we thought we were really going to be living in a mansion!!  It looked huge in the picture, and sooo pretty!He picked it out by himself, without mom's help! 

In actuality, in WAS bigger than the house we lived in in Dewey, but still was not huge by Denver's standards.  Nevertheless, all we knew was that each of us kids got our OWN bedroom, unheard of up until that time; even little Chuck got his own room, as small as it was.  There were stairs; there was a little round window in the walk-in closet of one of the bedrooms, and there was even a basement with it's own bathroom, too!! A bathroom on each floor! We could hardly believe how wonderful it was!   There was a big fenced-in backyard, where Cowboy could run to his heart's content..a couple of nice flower gardens that Mother could love and tend to. And a big tree, perfect for a swing.  A garage and a covered patio, where we had our picnic table and porch swing....lots of lilac bushes across the back to hide the neighbors.  And a nice neighborhood.

I don't remember how my brothers and I got acquainted with the kids in the neighborhood, but I know, over the years, we had quite a few friends up and down the street.  I had one close friend who lived across the street named Cathy.  She had two sisters, and she and her parents attended the nearby Catholic School.  In fact, most of the neighbors were Catholic, as their church was only a few blocks away. This afforded me a close look into the Catholic religion, which I liked at the time, but have mixed feelings about now. More about that later...

I attended the public school there, Palmer Elementary, as mom and dad got us enrolled in school pretty quickly. The school  was about eight blocks away, and it was there that I met and became friends with Julie.  She was to become my best friend all the time I lived in Denver.  She says she came up to me and introduced herself to me, as I was the 'new girl', but I don't really remember how it started.  I just know we spent a lot of time together, and the she was an only child.  She had such a vivid imagination and I think it was because she was an only child. What else did she have to do?  We played 'sleuth', like Nancy Drew, and her mom or dad would give us secret codes to decipher. The Nancy Drew mysteries were pretty much the only books I read at the time; we both read them, and it was a fun contest to see how many we could read! I read other books, but it was mostly Nancy Drew. We aspired to be like Nancy...always questioning, always searching for the answer.

I have some wonderful memories of my parents, and I really want to write about them as much as I can before I forget about them, and they are both gone.  Mom died on Nov. 11, 2004, and I really miss her.  But I bet I don't miss her as much as Dad does.  I can't imagine how hard it is to go on living after spending over 55 years with someone who you love so much.

Junior High School at Hill was memorable, to put it mildly. I wasn't there at the same time as my brother Jim, as he went on to high school. There were the normal fears of starting a new school, being a small fish in a big pond, and being in a bigger school.

The Sadie Hawkins dance was coming up. There were flyers advertising it all over school. There was a boy I liked in 8th grade, Bob Smith. He lived a block from us and I just thought he was cute. He was tall, had reddish hair like mine...and I thought it would be nice to get to know him. I invited him to the dance....of course that was a nervewracking experience. I think I called him. I didn't want to do it fact to face! He accepted, and I bought the tickets. I think I must have talked to my friends about it quite a bit, because it was a big thing back then to invite a boy to a dance!! The dance was in the gym, and it was right after school. I met him at the door to the gym, and as soon as I gave him the ticket, he took off and sat with the other boys. I was sooo disappointed! I don't know what I thought would happen, but I guess that is normal behavior for a junior high school kid. But I wanted him to stay with me, and dance with me. It just broke my heart that he took off as soon as we got inside the doors! I thought, he just used me to get in!! Oh well...I got over it, and held onto that somewhat jaded impression of boys for quite some time.

My friends and I hung out a lot, walked between classes together and talked about all kinds of things. We even did our hair the same way for a time. I remember not liking being taller than all the boys, but there were a few that were the same height. I think that's why I thought Bob Smith would be a good choice. Boy, was I wrong! I was in the band and that was a lot of fun. Played the flute. That's where I met a lot of my friends.

Junior High was also where I began to hate math. Ugh..I had some bad teachers, I guess....but I just couldn't get it and I had no interest in it. Dad helped me out a lot, and I had a hard time telling the truth about doing my homework. I hated it! I also didn't do well in science...but I'm not sure why. Both those subjects were what dad was good in. But now I think I'm a lot like my dad....that's weird.

I took to grammar and spelling really easily. That followed me all through school. I also took some home economics classes during this time - sewing and cooking. It was during the 60's, and that's what girls learned! How things have changed!

Julie didn't go to Hill Jr. High cause her parents sent her to a private school after Palmer. She was going to Kent, and I didn't see her much after that. But I made new friends and I think I walked to school with them, I'm not sure. Maybe I walked by myself.

I loved to read...I used to sit sideways in the big overstuffed chair that mom recovered and immerse myself in books. They might be Nancy Drew books, they might be about a young girl having an adventure. I really don't remember. I just know that I loved reading, and I loved being comfortable in that chair. I wish I had a chair like that now that I could lie in and just go away and escape in my book. That's the wonderful thing about reading - you can escape and go places, go wherever the book takes you. and it shuts out the world in a way that is safe and good,  and there are so many books to read that I can't get them all read. I want to read them all. I believe in the printed word and that it can say a lot, and just like in books it can take you places, say wwhatever you want it to say. I guess I got the love of reading from my mom and dad. They were always reading, in the living room, in the evenings; they didn't watch much tv at that time. That's what they did to relax, and there were always books around the house. They didn't shove it down my throat, they didn't make me read, but I think I learned by example, and that is probably the best way to teach someone, especially about reading.