Tuesday, September 24, 2013

A Look Back With Love

I was in a hurry as I quickly read and deleted emails this morning.  There is so much to do today. But one email attachment stopped me in my tracks: it was a video from Northwestern showing the Class of 2017 during their first day on campus: hearing warm greetings from the student body president and the current president of Northwestern, celebrating as a group, learning Northwestern's songs, discovering the wonders of Chicago.

And suddenly, my eyes filled with tears when I remembered my own first day on campus 50 years ago.

That first day -- September 18, 1963 -- was a tearful day, too.

I had never flown before, never traveled alone, never been to Chicago, never set foot on campus, had never known anybody who went to Northwestern. I was excited, but frightened, lonely and filled with anxiety.

I spent much of the flight to Chicago weeping on the shoulder of a kind stranger, a sweet middle-aged woman, who told me, over and over, what a wonderful experience this would be for me. I burst into tears when a welcoming group of students greeted me in baggage claim at O'Hare. I cheered up considerably in the cab between two sophomores who reassured me that everything would be fine and advised me which classes were especially worthwhile. I managed a smile when a handsome young man ran up to me at the entrance to my dorm and offered to carry my suitcase to my third floor room.

Standing in front of the closed door of my dorm room, I took a quick breath. There were two names on the door - mine and my new roommate's. Cheryl Martindill. I hadn't known, until that very moment, who my first college roommate would be. I didn't know anything about her. I hoped we'd like each other. With a whispered prayer, I opened the door.

The first person I saw was not my roommate, but a stern and angry middle-aged woman. "Are you Kathleen McCoy?" she demanded. "Are you a Catholic?"

I nodded yes to both.

"Don't put your suitcase down," she said. "You're moving. We don't want our daughter rooming with a Catholic."

My stomach dropped. I felt ill. I wanted my mother. I stared at her, speechless.

"The dorm director is on her way up to settle this mess," she said.

I nodded.  "I'd like to sit down until she comes," I said. "I'm really tired."

"You can sit down, but don't get comfortable," the woman said.

I made my way to a desk with no adornments. The woman's daughter was at the other desk, her back to me, pinning pictures on her bulletin board.

I fished a copy of the Los Angeles Times out of my carry-on bag and hid behind it, crying quietly, as the dorm director arrived and curtly told this woman that Cheryl and I had been matched for a good reason and that we would be reassigned only if, after giving living together a fair shot, we decided it wasn't workable.

Cheryl's parents stormed out of the room, headed back to Grand Rapids, Michigan. I sat weeping behind the newspaper, trying to get a grip before my roommate discovered that she was matched with a crybaby. Cheryl continued to organize her belongings.

Finally, she tapped the other side of the newspaper gently. "I'm sorry about my parents," she said at last. "I don't feel that way. I'm glad we're roommates. I'm a journalism major, too, and I think it's so cool that you're from California. I never knew anyone from California."

I snuffled. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she said and then, after a moment, she said the magic words: "Want to go get a pizza?"

From then on, we were the best of friends. She said nothing about my red-rimmed eyes. We never discussed the first day for the rest of our college days, except to agree that her parents were impossible.

Twenty-five years later, I met Cheryl and her two delightful teenage children at a Scottsdale hotel where they were vacationing and had invited me to join them from L.A.  As we sat by the hotel's expansive pool that first day, Cheryl suddenly asked me a question that took me back through the years: "Were you crying behind that newspaper?"

I laughed. "How did you know?"

She smiled and took my hand. "Because you sat there behind it for two hours," she said. "And you never turned a page!"

We talked a lot that day about the past: about our friendship with Lorraine and Lorie, who would be our suite mates the next year: how beautiful and sophisticated New York native Lorraine was and what a sweetheart Lorie, who hailed from Georgia, was. We talked about our college lives and agreed that there were challenges, but many more good times. We agreed that we had been blessed, particularly with our lifelong friendship.

But Cheryl, Lorraine and Lorie were not blessed with long lives. Lorraine died suddenly at 42 from an abdominal aneurysm and Lorie from an auto-immune disease before she turned 60. And Cheryl barely made it to her 60th birthday, dying of colon cancer two months later.

It seems impossible that they're gone. They live so vividly, so vibrantly, in my memories of our sweet beginnings at Northwestern. It all came back to me as I watched the video of the ebullient class 50 years behind us.

Would I want to live it over again? Not really, though spending a day being young and in the company of dear friends long departed would be an incredible joy. I wouldn't want to be young and just starting out today. My heart goes out to young people who face such high tuition costs and such a ghastly job market. I feel especially sorry for those journalism students 50 years my junior who are coming of age in the twilight of the print media era with so many uncertainties for the future.

My tears today are ones of tenderness for those first sweet college friends and for my scared but resolute younger self. The tears are for what is irrevocably lost: the seemingly endless future, the special people, the hopes and dreams that seem so innocent now.  So many of our dreams did come true, though not always in the way we could have imagined when we --the Class of 1967 -- were the new students on campus. But time flies and life can be cruel and I grieve the disappointments and heartbreaks so many of my dear college friends have had and the fact that an alarming number of them died so young.

The tears come because they are still so present: I can see Lorraine so beautiful and sophisticated and wise, Lorie laughing so warmly and readily at my dorm-room antics and Cheryl so loving and tactful during my tearful first hours as her roommate, offering friendship and pizza as she pretended not to notice my tears on that special day so long ago.

26 comments:

  1. Salle de réception et de mariage, le Manoir Rouville-Campbell vous propose aussi des forfaits hébergement et hôtel. Rendez-vous dans un endroit unique!

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  2. What a bittersweet story! I, too, started life on campus in September 1963 -- probably around the same day, but unlike you, I don't have any record of that. I do remember the excitement and nervousness -- travelling from a small New England town to Washington, DC. My experience was not so happy and I didn't make any lasting friendships there -- mostly due to my inexperience and naivety. But I did love Washington and lived there for 17 years until I met my husband and began a whole new adventure in England...

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    1. Isn't it amazing how much impact a youthful decision has on one's life? What if you had not decided to go to college in Washington? You might never have met your husband and ended up in England! Even if college wasn't a totally happy experience, it was a step toward being in the right place at the right time!

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  3. Good grief what an awful woman Cheryl's mother was. How delightful that your roommate fell quite far from the tree but sad that none of them lived a very long life.

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    1. Oh, Cheryl's mother was a major piece of work. The day Cheryl died, her daughter Amy called me and, as we were talking on the phone, she said "My grandparents are getting on a private plane to come here to Colorado from Michigan and I don't think I can bear it. I can't stand to be in the same room with my grandmother after the way she mistreated my poor mother all her life." Cheryl was an adopted child and her mother never let her forget it. She did indeed fall quite far from the tree and was a wonderful person despite the painful experiences with her mother.

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  4. How powerfully you relate these memories.

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    1. Thanks, Linda. These memories live powerfully within. It was such a pivotal time of life.

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  5. A lovely story.
    Not everybody has such sweet memories; you are fortunate to have met with such lovely room mates. It’s sad that their lives ended before their time, but here you are, writing about them and remembering them with love. Which means that they are not entirely dead and gone, but living on in your heart.

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    1. Thanks so much, Friko! You're right -- and it feels good to bring them to life, in a sense, once again.

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  6. This is a powerful memory and you tell it well, Kathy. What a lovely person your roommate was!

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    1. Thanks, Jenny! Cheryl was a lovely person and so were Lorraine and Lorie. And they had wonderful children who live on: Cheryl's Amy and Will, Lorraine's Sharon and Virginia and Lorie's Cindy.

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  7. I went to college but stayed at home and of course then never had roommates. You write so eloquently about your experiences. Yes, they did die young, but maybe your job is to be the chronicler of your experiences, speaking for all four of you.

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    1. You're right, Lorna. As long as I'm around, they linger in memories. And, of course, they left some wonderful children behind, several of whom are Facebook friends!

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  8. This was a beautiful story with such great love being expressed for your college roommates. I found tears in my eyes as I read it. Those days seem so long ago now. You and I started college the same month and the same year. Sometimes it seems hard to imagine it has been so long ago.

    I'm so thankful that these girls did not represent the views of their parents. I like to think we've come a long ways since then. Just yesterday, through FaceTime, a dear friend shared the story of the beginning months of her first marriage. Somehow I had never heard the story because even though we were high school friends and have become so close since then, I never knew what she suffered because of her in-laws intolerant attitudes. I knew so much of the story of the years and years when we did not see each other, but somehow we had never shared that story. All I could think was, "Oh how I wish I had been there at that time to put my arms around her and comfort her. Going for pizza and bravely helping her walk into the future would have been good."

    Now, we have each other to share those stories with. It is good you can look back in love. These girls were just the ones you needed as you set out on your journey to becoming the amazing woman that you are.

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  9. Thanks so much, Sally! I really could have used a hug that day! I know you understand the significance of the day and the feelings. And, yes, my roommate Cheryl and across the hall friends Lorraine and Lorie were just perfect! I was remembering some other people who lived on our floor that I would not have been happy at all to have roomed with. I really lucked out and I've never stopped being grateful!

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  10. Such a beautifully-remembered and tender post, Kathy. Your sensitive younger self shines out of it,, as does your love for those very special college friends. It takes courage to fly halfway across a continent at that age to study and brings home to me just how huge the US is, compared to our tiny island. :-)

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    1. Thanks, Perpetua! It was rather daunting to fly 2,000 miles away from home on my first venture out of the nest!

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  11. Dear Kathy, this is such a lovely posting. I could see you crying behind that newspaper and I could see Cheryl pinning things to her bulletin board and Lorie and Lorraine, who was so sophisticated. And seeing all that I began to remember my own first days at Mount Saint Scholastica College in Atchison, Kansas, back in September of 1954. As with you, I have so many good memories of those days. But I haven't kept touch well with most of the students with whom I graduated. I think that's partly because of going immediately into the convent and then coming out and being so confused for so many years.

    When I read your words, however, I treasure those college memories and the wonderful friends I made then from all over the United States.

    Like you, I wouldn't want to be young today. It's just too hard. Peace.

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    1. Thanks for your visit today, Dee! I'm so glad you have loving memories of your college years, too, and imagine that it was harder to keep in touch, entering the convent immediately after college. But the memories are sweet, aren't they?

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  12. I get those tears, too, Kathy -- for my college roommate and other close friends along the way, those with whom we grew into adults. So many have left. I love the story of how Cheryl was excited to meet you. It sound like she turned out well, in spite of her parents.

    This post brings back a lot of thoughts to me today. Good timing...

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  13. Thanks, Jeanie! Time flies so quickly, doesn't it? It's so hard to believe how many dear friends from young adulthood are gone. You're right that those with whom we grew into adults are very special.

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  14. I am mortified by that woman's behavior!
    In those days we felt so powerless when we were young dealing with dominant and bombastic older people. (It seems to be different these days ,and though I have a lot of time and respect for the young , some have a disproportionate sense of entitlement it seems) . Middle ground would be good!
    This was a lovely piece of writing, thank you so much for sharing it.

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  15. Your experience brought back mine--although mine wasn't nearly as bad as yours.. My first college roommate was as opposite from me as anyone could be. First of all, she smoked (which I didn't) --so that was hard for me. THEN--she loved to get up about 5 a. m. and go to bed about 9 p.m. I was just the opposite... I liked to stay up late and get up late.... She also had a weird personality --which nobody liked. She definitely was NOT a friend of mine... I made it through that first year somehow--but changed roommates the next year to my friend, Betty. Betty and I got along great -so my situation got much better.

    I don't know what ever happened to my first roommate --but she left school after that first year...

    It's hard to believe that Cheryl's mother was so rude to you... GADS!
    Hugs,
    Betsy

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  17. Your post made me cry a little bit. It was so descriptive and I could just feel what you went through by the words you shared. I wouldn't want to be young again either but I certainly like to think young and not fall into the "give up on fun" mode that so many people our age live their lives.

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  18. Wow, I haven't thought about my first day of college for a long time. Like you, it was very scary, but everything turned out wonderfully. Thank goodness the stranger you encountered was right . . .

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