Nancy's Sophomore Slump

Me, age 15

By Tenth Grade I felt like an 'old pro' at high school. The year was a heady journey of ups and downs. I went on my first date, studied journalism, saw the end of a friendship and the deepening of others. That spring, 1968, Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated. A boy at school died. And Mom suffered a major health crisis that hospitalized her for weeks.

Me, fall 1967

I had taken Algebra in summer school so I could 'catch up' to my friends and take Geometry as a sophomore. I started out ok, but couldn't keep up and failed the class.

My geometry teacher Mr. Jacobson and I had a 'special' relationship. One day he said I was his favorite geometry student. "He kept bugging me and asked, "Who's your favorite geometry teacher?" That spring, when I was flunking the class, I told one of his honors geometry students to "kick Mr. Jacobson hello for me," and she did. She said he laughed and thought it was 'sweet of me' to remember him. When I came into class he told me, "I got your hello." I apologized, but he said, don't think of it, adding that he was "happy to fill my head with geometry."

About Journalism class I wrote, "Mr. Rosen's going to be a real peach of a teacher." I loved the class, even selling the Herald newspapers and Lancer yearbooks. I wrote, "Everything Mr. Rosen says sinks and goes deep into me. I looked through all my old Heralds and my Lancer.  I bet I’ve looked at my yearbook a million times."

I had Biology with Mr. Gasiorowski whose passion for his subject was infectious. What a great teacher and a great guy. He was a Chicago Cubs and Eddie Stankey fan.

When my dad brought home two rabbits in the spring I named them Eddie Stankey and Stanley Miller, a chemist Mr. G talked about who made amino acids in a test tube. My brother called the bunnies Spot and Snow.

Me with Edie Stankey and Stanley Miller

When Mr. G talked about Desmond Morris' book The Naked Ape I bought a copy. Mom picked it up to look at and was appalled by the description of the human body response during sex. I told her I had read more salacious things in her books which I had picked up and read!

In October my folks went to the Parent open house. I wrote, "Apparently Mom and Dad had a good time at open house tonight. They liked all my teachers, especially Mr. Rosen and Mr. Gasiorowski. Mr. R said, “I don’t know if any of the kids have been telling you what we’ve been doing..”
“Yeah!” Mom said.  “Two hundred sentences…”
“That was a while back.”
“Now you're doing verbs and photography.  She likes your class best, I think.”

Girl's Choir 1967-68. I am in the second row from bottom, fifth from the right.

I was thrilled to be promoted to Girl's Choir. We wore a navy blazer provided by the school. I felt really sharp wearing it to school on days we sang. I was always singing, walking home or through the school hallways. They were a great group of gals and I made many friends in choir. I enjoyed Mrs. Ballmer.

Gym was required for two years. My gym locker was near that of the 'Greaser' girl who had bullied me in junior high, taking my hat and throwing it. One day I was singing while dressing and she said, "She's singing. Are you singing for me?" I replied, "If you want me to." And so I sang the second alto part of the song we were learning in choir. Her friends listened, too. They said I was good. I was never picked on again. It was a confirmation of something I had believed when a girl: if a bad guy came along all I had to do was play the piano or sing to calm the wildness.

I was still pining for the same boy. I wrote, "Mom left me with no hope. But Dad did. He said, “Don’t give up.” He said anything—even a fumble—boosts a guy’s morale. Let’s hope so. Of course, he ought to know, being a guy himself—once."

My old neighbor and friend Mike D. who had moved away was now a freshman at Kimball. I was too shy to talk to him. One day he gathered his courage and asked if I was me and then asked if I remembered the telescope and Homer the Ghost. I didn't have the courage to let him know I really had liked him. Partly it was pride, as I was a year older, but mostly I was shy.

A boy from my homeroom teased me for a while then asked me out. We dated for a few weeks, going to a school dance. We were dancing to My Girl when he kissed me, my first kiss. He wanted to go steady. I liked him as a friend, but we had little in common and I broke it off.

My homeroom class, 10th Grade. I am in the second row, third from right.

I followed several friends and joined the Political Action Club.

I never cared about sports but went to the football games at school to see my friends. I did learn a little about football.

I was writing more poetry:

The sunlight from the window,
Formed a stream of light flowing into the room.
The light illuminated the particles of dust
Floating on the river of melted sun.
The slowly sinking silver moon
Abandoned its position in the heavens
Giving it up to the victor, the sun.
A rosy dawn slowly, silently
Took over the sky transforming
A midnight blue to rainbows.

I read Gone With The Wind and wrote, "I feel I know Scarlet and Gerald and Rhett and Melody and Ashley all personally. I suffer with them. They haunt me, through Rhett's asking Scarlet to be his mistress, through Ellen's death, through when Scarlet finds the Tarleton twins have died. War is horrible. The book is so much a love story, but also it gives an excellent picture of Southern life and a great background to the Civil War. I never knew that was like that."

Other books I read included Alfred Hitchcock's Stories Not for the Nervous; The Moonspinners; The Return of the Native and Tess of the D'Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy; Other Voices, Other Rooms by Truman Capote; J. D. Salinger's books; John Knowle's A Separate Peace; Green Mansions; The Foundation Trilogy by Issac Asimov; Kingsblood Royal; The Chosen by Chaim Potok; Anna Karenina; and Stranger in a Strange Land by Heinlein.

Tom and Dad playing at dining room table, Me and Mom.
No one else wore their hair that way. I always did something weird.

The fall began with the murder of a classmate's little brother in the Quickstead Woods near Kimball. Then my Grandfather Ramer was hospitalized after his first heart attack. One night some boys were trying to get the attention of the girls who lived across the street. Dad yelled at them to be quiet. They threw a beer bottle through my parent's second-floor bedroom window.

That October, listening to my records I wrote,

"Life is so baffling and unpredictable. It schemes, and you can only hope you’re on the right side of the conflicting forces and not on the overpowered side. It can cut you down like a scythe cuts the wheat. You fall at its mercy. It can be endless in every way as the stars. It can make you as exhausted as one lost in a pathless woods.

I won’t cry, no I won’t cry,
I won’t shed a tear
Not as long, not as long as you
Stand by me.

I feel so strange to feel so friendly
To say “good morning,” and really mean it,
To feel these changes happening in me,
But not to notice still I feel it.

"It’s all so strange. To say “good morning” and really mean it.  It makes me think.  Do they?  Does someone care, even if to say a “good morning?”  What is there left to say?  Is there something I’ve forgotten?  One person left blank?

“I can no longer keep my blind drawn,
And I can’t keep myself from talking.”

"But I notice, I feel it. What a strange effect a beautiful, overdubbed melody can have, creating a whole new emotion out of nowhere. Changing instantly how you feel. Maybe tomorrow I’ll know the answers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll know. I can only wait. And hope He will stand by me, as before."

At Christmas, our neighbors the McNabs joined my family for a turkey dinner. I played Christmas Carols on the piano and they sang along. Afterward, Grandma Ramer, Dad, my brother and me took a drive to see Christmas lights.

We ended up in Detroit. I wrote, "We saw Cobo Hall, Ford Auditorium, The Spirit of Detroit, Hudson's Christmas display windows. It began to snow, not much on the ground, but it does look beautiful to look out your window and see snow falling. Yes, we saw Detroit in all its glory, and the dark, back alleys that chill you to the bone. Not far from Grand Circus Blvd. and it's lighted stores, are broken-down tenements. But even there, in cracked windows, can be found a few colored lights, a lighted candle."

We spent New Year's Day in Tonawanda. I wrote, "Now I'm grown I can see people's personalities. Aunt Alice and Uncle Kenny, Skip, Tom Wilson. Skip says I can't marry until I'm 30--get an education. Uncle Ken is funny. Aunt Alice will have a baby in July. John [Kuhn] pities poor dad--"even your own daughter!"--because I pick on his big nose." I wrote that "Nancy Ensminger was impressed by my description of my life in Michigan." Sadly, Aunt Alice lost that baby.

In January I wrote, "I think the world's falling apart. Riots, wars, crime--dear God, I wish I lived on some obscure island in the Pacific or on an iceberg off Greenland. When will man find peace? Will he ever? We destroy all the beautiful things with ugliness. I wish I were a child again able to live in my own magical world and leave the rest up to the adults. But in this day and age, teenagers are caught up in it. Ever since I heard [a boy] talk about being drafted I've been scared for the boys I know. I hate war. Cutting down the nation's youth, without a chance, growing up too quickly."

The Herald, our school paper

On April 5, I wrote, "It happened again. Martin Luther King Jr's murder. Students wore black armbands, shaking their heads silently during Mr. Stephan's speech. They protested that the flag wasn't at half mast until the governor proclaimed it. They were emotionally upset. We all felt bad, and perhaps guilty for our race. We are the future who will deal with this problem. It's fortunate most felt compassion instead of victory."

On April 6, I wrote, "It seems we just all exploded happily over Hanoi's wanting a peace talk, and up, up, up went the stocks. LBJ had to stay and cancel his trip as riots broke out over King's murder and down, down, down went the stocks. I am convinced this country is a mess. Mr. Jacobson's been talking politics in class lately, and Mr. Burroughs is great on current events. I've learned a lot about him about Vietnam, stocks, the racial problem, and other problems of this Rat Race. Mr. Gasiorowski has been preparing us for sex, marriage, and other things about Adult Life and responsibilities. With Mr. Rosen we try to take this world and report all the latest facts on the Rat Race to the Rats themselves. So, in the end, you've gotta get involved. Mr. Gould tries to help your 'love life,' and Mrs. Ballmer helps you get enjoyment out of succeeding and working hard to get to the top. And Mrs. Dubois teaches teamwork. In school, they prepare you for Life."

On April 18, I went to Great Scott on Crooks Rd. with Mom to buy easy meals. Mom was going into the hospital for two weeks and I would be responsible for cooking, cleaning, and getting my brother up and to school. Every few years Mom would try another treatment for her psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis.

In May, my journalism class attended a conference for high school students held at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. We got press cards. My friends and I spent time wandering around town among the college students. I hoped to go to college, too. But I had not talked to my folks about it.

The photographer for the school newspaper and yearbook was the step-son of my Ninth Grade English Teacher, Mr. Botens. He would hang around our classroom, talking to Mr. Rosen. One time they were discussing how to photograph a person in a jar and they asked me to pose. I was wearing the Mod suit I'd bought with the money I found on my way to summer school. I liked Joe, but he was older and I thought he was too cool for me. My friend Dorothy knew him and one day we went to his house so she could return chemistry papers she had borrowed. In April she told me she asked him if he'd date me. She said he said he thought I was cute and would consider--it but he had a girl. That was bitter-sweet.

On May 15, 1968, I came to school and my friend Kathy gently broke the news that Joe had suffered a serious accident. I was stunned. At choir, my friend Peg told me Joe had died. The Girl's Choir sang Happy Birthday and I was offended, unwilling to have life go on in the midst of death. I grieved for days, recalling all my losses over the years. In the end, I decided, "So, follow his example, when he lived. Find the ambition and vigor he met life with. And die with the courage and determination he did, but only when it is time. Now you know death for what it is."

Newspaper articles on the death of Joe Botens

1969 Lancer tribute to Joe Botens

On June 5, I turned on the radio and heard that Robert Kennedy had been shot. One of my close friends was upset, saying her parents didn't understand. There was another school rally and the Principal gave another speech and a prayer for Kennedy's recovery. On June 6 I wrote, "I prayed as I fell asleep: Don't let him die, don't let him die."

October 1967 Free Press photo of RFK visit to Detroit

While Mom was at the hospital the doctors discovered that she was being harmed by the medications she was on and they took her off them, cold turkey. She became very ill, losing both weight and her hair. The family feared she would die. Dad came home from work, ate, and went to the hospital. I was not allowed to go. I stayed with my little brother.  It was an awful, stressful time.

The school year ended. The last day I walked home alone, for all my friends had left already. I was very blue. Summer of 1968 was the lowest point of my life.

The stress of Mom's illness showed in my family. I was falling into depression, moody and unhappy. My folks were short with me. There were fights. They did not understand that stress affects the whole family.

My Uncle Dave was in a horrible car accident in Annapolis. I went with the McNabs to see The Graduate. I traded bedrooms with my brother, making me nostalgic thinking about all I'd experienced while in that room. I went bike riding with my girlfriends. We saw the fireworks display at the Clawson park, just a block away from where I now live.

Mom was still not well when my July birthday came. Instead of a Sweet Sixteen party like my friends had, I was lucky to have a cake and a family gathering.

I struggled with the evil in the world, the loss of my naive belief in the innate goodness of all people. Now, I wondered if I wanted to live in such a world. I prayed to just die and then felt terror. I realized my terror was because I believed in God and feared that my prayer might be answered. I had at least accomplished one goal: I was on my way to a real faith.

One summer day I took my brother Tom and his friend Bruce McNab to show them my daily walk to Kimball. After Freshman year all I could think about was getting back to school. This summer I was nostalgic for simpler, happy days. One year had changed everything.

Bruce McNab and Tom Gochenour

You Must Change Your Life: Ninth Grade and a New School, a New Me

Me, age 14

Fall of 1966 saw another change in my life: going to high school meant a third new school since 1963. Homesickness had been replaced by nostalgia for the past. Fourteen years old, and already my heart resonated to lines such as, "I remember, I remember, the house where I was born," by Thomas Hood.

Me, Winter 1966-7

Being an introvert, not one to jump in and go with the crowd, I still missed having a best friend. I was lonely. I also knew that my priggishness was keeping me back. Only liking classical music, classical literature, and disdaining the popular was a real drawback to making friends.

My resistance to rock and roll and 'liking boys' was wearing down. I was ripe for change, and high school was an opportunity for a start-over. But, at what cost? Could I betray what I had always been--in exchange for what? That road was unknown.

A few weeks into the school year my English teacher Mr. Botens told the class, "You are three persons: "The person you were in the past; the person you are at this minute; and the person you will and want to be in the future." That comment changed my life, for I understood that I held my destiny in my own hands. I could be who I wanted to be. The question was--what did I want to be?

I was very aware of leaving childhood. "I'm suddenly seeing things through different eyes," I wrote in my diary. "I found out what life is all about. The suffering, pain, and work that was ahead. But the thread broke and the dream of childhood drifted away." I wanted to write, and knew "it takes imagination to write fiction, and study, brains, and experience to write non-fiction."

Homecoming float for Freshman Class, Oct. 29, 1966

My Freshman year classes at Kimball held a mixed bag for me, academically. I actually did good in General Math, Civics, Glee, and even Gym, but ended up flunking German although I really wanted to learn. I never could memorize. In college, I just squeaked by in Latin.

Team English had three teachers and 90+ kids. I was in the highest Reading Group, but middling spelling and grammar groups. (Many years later when working in editing and copywriting, I kept my trusty grammar guides beside me.) I loved Mr. Botens.

Girls Glee Club 1966-67. I am on the center row, far left. 

I was in Girls Glee Club and was pleased when Mrs. Ballmar called me to join a group of girls she thought were some of the best singers. My training was good: I had been in chorus in elementary school in Tonawanda and played the piano. My folks bought me a guitar and I was taking lessons and teaching myself to sing folk songs with guitar. I loved the idea of 'portable music,' an instrument I could take anywhere.

The Christmas Concert was an amazing experience, with all the choirs joining in the last piece, The Song of Christmas, and the O Holy Night. Learning the alto for O Come, O Come Emmanuel was handy considering how many times I sang it in church over my life! In my four years singing in three choral groups, the Christmas concert remained a highlight of each school year. Performing was exciting. In the Spring Concert, we sang Mr. Wonderful.

1966 Christmas Concert program

I made many friends in Glee. Pat had been in Mrs. Hayden's class and we became best friends that year. If I was fearful and controlled, Pat was a free spirit who pushed the envelope. She certainly pushed me into uncomfortable areas. Even going to see Dr. No and Goldfinger at the Main Movie Theater was a push for me!

Pat took me home with her after school and we practiced flirting with the 19-year-old man who was helping to build an addition on Pat's house. We made pulled hard candy. I stopped by Pat's house on the way to school and we walked together, or her mom gave us a ride in bad weather. Pat let me borrow her parent's copy of Archy and Mehitabel by Don Marquis. Now, I wonder if her parents knew! One weekend we walked to downtown Royal Oak by way of the railroad tracks, discussing religion.

I had a mad crush on a boy and Pat encouraged and abetted me in all the wrong ways. But, I also had crushes on dozens of other boys as well. It is a great relief to know that as a teen Jane Austen was described one of the silliest and boy crazy girls in England! I can excuse myself for being normal. I had finally broken my vow to never be silly over boys.

Me and Pat, summer 1967

Pat encouraged me to lose weight, giving me an exercise pamphlet. I went on a 1000 calorie diet. Mom had already tried a high protein diet, a calorie control diet, and even 'pep' pills. I can't believe the doctor gave me pep pills! Plus, I walked 2 miles to and from school every day. I did lose 25 pounds before the end of summer 1967.

By the end of the year most of the girls I would be friends with in high school I had already met. Friendship was such a big deal to me after several lonely years. I would walk girls to their classes for a moment's gossip, and be late to my own class!

In my diary I wrote about the overwhelming newness and awareness of just starting life, but also the lack of a purpose in life. I was still seeking the faith in God I had observed at the altar call when I visited a Baptist church in Sixth Grade.

"I think some people don't have a point of life to make it worthwhile. You may be having a grand time, but what is it worth if it doesn't have a point? A goal, a purpose, something to achieve. I don't have a point in life. I'm just living it. Seems a pity to just waste it. I just go on and on, every day. As much as I love life--my life--it doesn't appear to have much of a point." I continued, "The best point to have, I think, is God. It must be. Our point is to worship God, to believe in and love God. To serve him, and not we ourselves. No, not ourselves. We should do God's bidding. That seems like a good point in life. It really does."

I was not "there" yet, and my language reflected what I had heard, not what I had personally experienced.

Christmas came and went. Our consumer, throwaway values upset me when I saw the Christmas trees at the roadside. I wrote,

"I was thinking about all the little Christmas trees at the side of the roads now. How can people just toss them out in the snow? To think--a few days ago, they were decorated and "oohed" and "ahhed" at. Now, no one cares beans about them. They were beautiful, and loved, but once used, they're tossed away. Trash. People kick at them while walking. No one now thinks of how beautiful they were. People use them, then just throw them away."

I also wrote a poem, full of mock pathos:

The Tragedy of the Ever Green Tree

ah, once pretty ever green tree
with strands of tinsel
still hanging among your branches
of brown, falling needles;
the season's over.
ho-ho-hos and presents are gone,
safely tucked away in drawers and rooms
and memories.
your work is done, ever green tree.

once pretty ever green tree,
laying in the once fresh sparkling snow
now dirty and gray
next to tin cans full of
residue and refuse from the holiday--
the garbageman will come for you,
children kick you on their way to school,
and cars splash black melt on you
as you sit by the roadside.

once grand and regal
in the warmth of the livingroom,
decked in lights and donned in ornaments,
now you lie in the cold,
on the street
to be taken away.
grandeur has left.
all fame leaves with the turning
of calendar pages.

I was in my e.e.cummings phase. I later read this poem in speech class but gave an alias for the author. It was not the only poem I was to write about a throwaway society. When I was in my early twenties I wrote,

I am an old Bic pen,
an empty tube of colorless plastic.
Bought cheap.
Used.
Discarded.
The consumer's whore.

Mr. Botens had to get our parents get permission to read The Catcher in the Rye. I had never read anything like it. The last book I had written about reading was Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad. In January I wrote, "I picked up some good sayings from Holden. Good ole' Holden," adding it helped me 'express' myself. I also admitted that the 'sex' stuff in the book was pretty embarrassing to discuss in class. I took to introducing myself as Rudolph Schmidt, the alias Holden used when he met a fellow student's mother. I went on to read everything I could by or about Salinger.

Other books I noted reading that year included Uncle Tom's Cabin, Ethan Frome, Death of a Salesman, The Oxbow Incident, Inherit the Wind, In Cold Blood, and The Great Gatsby.

The first 45 record I ever bought was Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfield. I was now spending most of my allowance on a 45 record a week, which I bought at the Kmart store in Troy. Records I bought included Michelle, Ebb Tide, Homeward Bound, Message to Michael, Sloop John B, Monday, Monday, Paint it Black,  Red Rubber Ball, and I Am A Rock. I even bought silly records like Little Red Riding Hood! So much for pledging to never like silly music like Itsy Bitsy Teeny Tiny Polkadot Bikini!

I kept the Top Ten record sales lists in my scrapbook

Easter 1967

But that other side of me was still there. At home, I played classical music on the piano, drew, and filled notebook after notebook with my writing.

In March I wrote, "It's fascinating, even at my age, to see a butterfly land on your finger, spreading it's golden-orange wings in the breeze as if it were keeping time to some unheard song. Sitting peacefully and calmly without at care. Only to fly away in a moment. Up and away it goes, off to another place. Gaily it circles in the wind, to land on a flower or a green leaf." But I also envisioned a dark future, "Perhaps it will land in a spider's web. Carefree, happy and gay--it's caught. It struggles to get away, but alas, it is too late. He turns gray and soon our pretty butterfly is no more."

Dad in our back yard. 1967

May 21, 1967, my family went to see dad's friend who lived in Windsor, Canada. I documented the whole trip minute by minute. I wrote,

"We went by the tunnel. We stopped at a Hi-Ho restaurant for a hamburger. Customs took about 2 seconds. On the way back to Detroit, we saw a whole pile of smoke. Dad thought it was from a factory. But as we got close, we decided there was too much smoke to be from smoke stacks. It was a fire, a tremendously big one. The flames went up so high in the air, and the gray smoke swirled upward in the wind to form big billows of gray clouds. Beautiful--yet deadly and sinister. A two-story building was on fire, and [there were] houses all around. People emerged from everywhere and nowhere, all watching and talking. We heard on CKLW it was the third time for that building to be on fire this year."

Then, Dad got lost.

"We had to travel until we found Woodward. We went through the heart of Detroit and the slums. The slums I've seen in movies all year in Civics, they were right there in front of my eyes. The crowds of people in front of porches, talking, leaning on cars, sitting on steps. The mutilated buildings boarded up. Why doesn't someone do something? I wish I could. I don't blame them for hating us. I think we're half-sick. Why can't everyone feel the way I do? Why so much prejudice? I think there should be more propaganda to get sympathy for the Negroes, and booklets telling how you can help them fight for their rights. And if anyone says we're traitors--no--we aren't. It's the patriotic, right, Christian thing to do. To put them down should be a sin or something. I don't know, I swear, I don't know or understand anything. Nothin."

I ended by writing, "Born Free is playing on CKLW. We're all born free, and yet some can't be free. We are born with rights and then somebody comes and takes it all away because your skin's the wrong color. Hate--violence--the one to blame is the one who won't give citizens their rights."

My teacher Mr. Warner taught us that there is only one race--the human race.

Most of my diary is filled with an obsession with friends, boys, and the agony of typical teenage angst over friends and boys. I hardly recognize the girl I had become during those teenage years. At fourteen I had an idea that people change continually, evolving, and named each change an 'era'. I suppose I still believe that for looking back I can see myself becoming different people as experience and wisdom shaped me.

March 21, 1967, Detroit Free Press story with Kimball boys.

April 11, 1967, Detroit Free Press. Hemline wars.

Nancy Writes a Story: Eighth Grade at Jane Addams

In 1965 I turned twelve years old. My homesickness was diminishing. My Eighth Grade school year was one of my best ever in terms of personal growth. Teachers exposed me to the arts, choral singing became a source of achievement, and I was writing my first stories.

Nancy in Eighth Grade sporting a 'flip'

The summer of 1965 included many visits with Tonawanda friends and family.

My Aunt Alice and Uncle Kenny and cousins Dave and Bev visited the summer before Eighth Grade. I wrote that I read The Adventures of Benjamin Pink by Garth Williams aloud to my cousins and brother. It was a book I read to my brother Tom many times; later my husband read it to our son.

In July we returned to Tonawanda. I documented the entire trip:

"4:20 here we go! We're on Main St. We are going to pass Gardenia now. We will be there in about 7 hours, 12 AM. Good luck.

"Woodward Ave ahead. We just passed B'wana Don's Pet Shop. Here's the start--Palmer's Park--and now the end. Turn left to Merrill Plaisance and then left again to Third. We've passed Ginera and Florence, Moss and Puritan, Pilgrim and Midland, Sear and La Bell, For and Pasadena, Grand W. and Davidson, Waverly, Tyler, Buena Vista, Avalon, to GLENDALE! (and those aren't all of the streets.)

"Now we're going down a ramp to the John C. Lodge highway. The speed limit is 44-55 so everyone is going 69-75. Then in the distance, above the trees, are the tops of the big buildings that make up the Detroit Skyline. Beautiful. Off a ramp to Vernor's highway, greeted by a sign with a giant tire about 10 feet high, turn off to Vendor. On the left is Tiger Stadium. Ahead is the Railroad station. 18th St now, left again to 22, and the Ambassador Bridge is towering up over us. Now we are towering over the Detroit River, full of boats. Goodbye, US. Goodbye Detroit. Goodbye Skyline. Hello, Canada. Hello, long ride."

The Giant Tire

We visited my Guenther cousins for a picnic on Sunday. The next day we visited the Levant Becker family. My cousin Debbie took me to visit Myra and Larry Peterson, whom I had met on another visit. I wrote, "I used that name for a fictitious character in one of my stories." The story was a mystery with Mr. Robinson, Jay Robinson, and Larry Robinson. It was only in my head, but I drew pictures of the scenes and characters.

drawing of character Larry Peterson

characters from my story

In August our Rosemont friends the Randalls visited us. They came in a camper and slept in it in our backyard. We went to Greenfield Village. The oldest boy and Mike went to the Henry Ford Museum, but the rest of us were tired and went for a ride and waited in the car. I was too shy to talk to Mike, although as kids we played together. I wrote, "I'll miss them."

When school began in the fall I was feeling more at home. Mrs. Hayden was my Eighth Grade homeblock teacher for English, Social Studies, and Communication. Mrs. Hayden saw my strengths. She encouraged my writing and art instead of making me feel bad for being introverted and shy.

I wrote my first story, The Saucer in Her Yard during Seventh Grade. I worked on it all year, adding to it and rewriting it. It was inspired by Star Girl, a book I'd read at Philip Sheridan Elementary school.

Janiel Corniel Zwiskan, an explorer and prince from the planet Prism, is stranded on Earth and needs to refuel his spaceship. He is discovered by children when he is filling his fuel container with water from their backyard hose. Once back home, Janiel is court marshaled for breaking the no-contact rule, not knowing he was set up by enemies plotting a power takeover.

my space ship

Janiel bravely stands trial knowing he faces a death sentence. But the king has arranged an escape: Janiel is provided a one-way ride back to Earth. I started Book Two of the story, entitled "Amnesia," with Janiel awakening on Earth with no memory. The children see and identify him as the man from the saucer.

I thought Janeil's homesickness and separation from his people were extraordinarily sad. But when I read my story out loud to my parents and grandparents there was laughter just when there should have been sighs and tears. I was mortified. I stopped sharing my stories with anyone.

Mrs. Hayden read aloud to class from The Hobbit and a book called Dorp Dead. The Hunter was a character in Dorp Dead and I was fascinated by the book.

The Hunter from Dorp Dead

Other books I read this year included The Great White North about the Scott expedition, Edgar Allan Poe's poems and stories, and Les Miserables. I read Les Miz over and over, as it was over my head, determined to understand the novel upon which my favorite Classics Illustrated Comic Book was based.

My entire homeblock class was in Glee Club. I had asked for Journalism as my elective; somebody told me that only the 'popular' kids got in. I was glad to be back with Mr. Henckel.

Mr Henckel and the Glee Club

That fall my childhood dog Pepper, who had lived with my grandparents, was old and cranky and suffering from tumors. I came home from school one day to learn that she had been euthanized. I was upset. My family wanted to spare me, but I never got to say 'goodbye'.

I discovered was that my friend Gail M.'s cousin Joe was in my class. I took out a church bulletin to fan myself during lunch and Joe, who was sitting near me, saw it and noted it was from his cousin's church. I told him she was my best friend. Gail and I went to youth group together a few times.

The Glee Club gave its first performance at a school assembly. I wrote, "We sat in the cafeteria until the orchestra was in the middle of the first piece. Over, up, onto the bleachers. Shaking, scared, nervous. The audience clapped. Mr. Martin announced us. The curtains opened. What a difference--same gym, only filled with people. It made it look larger. Mr. Henckel smiled; we began. I was shaking and smiling and singing. And that's hard to do all at once. Mr. Henkel kept making faces to make us smile. I almost broke out laughing. Silent Night, O Little Town of Bethlehem, Joy to the World. He told us it was our best performance ever."

Mrs Hayden and Mr Henckel arranged for our the class to experience the arts. It was the greatest experience for me! We visited the Detroit Institute of Art, saw a film with ballet stars Nureyev and Fonteyn, and visited the Detroit Symphony. It changed my life. I begged to go back to the art museum and finally, Dad took me.

Mimeographed letter from Mr Henckel and Mrs Hayden
asking parents to have their children to watch an opera on television

I was taking piano lessons. Along with classical pieces, I learned piano versions of Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass hits and some pops pieces like Baby Elephant Walk.

I was listening to Motown hits on CKLW.

I went to church with my Grandfather Ramer. I knew a few of the kids in my Sunday School class.

I did not have a best friend like Nancy E. and I still felt different from the other girls. I had a few mild crushes on boys, nothing I talked about. It was more like 'noticing' them. Mom bought me white Go-Go boots that I would NOT wear. She hung Big Eye Children pictures on my bedroom wall.

my Big Eye kid drawings

I was already using writing to record my world and explore my inner life, and I dabbled in fiction. At the end of my diary for the year I wrote something that begins as self-exploration and a look at who I was after the move, but then turns into a fictionalized projection.

"She was in love, and she knew it. But with who, you ask? And here is the answer: with books. Peter Pan and Wendy, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Lord Jim. With people: Joan of Arc, Mark Twain, Nancy C. Ensminger, make-believe Red Scott Collie, Philip the boy from Mars, Homer the Ghost, and many others.

"She has many friends: Gail M, Janet L, Nancy E, Linda Guenther, but also enemies. Normal. She used to live in Kenmore, NY but now she lives in Royal Oak, MI. She would cry at night because there was not a person she could call a friend. Except for Gail.

"She wished she could be in NY again with Nancy E.

"She wished she had someone to walk to school with. It was a long walk. She would get four books out of the school library every Friday and Wednesday. She loved horse stories.

"Her greatest wish was she would become and author and be rich. She'd give lots of money to Care, Save the Children, and organizations to help needy people. She felt sad when she saw how some people live here and overseas.

"She wasn't prejudiced against people who were different. A person is human no matter what kind of person they are, they're all the same, she thought. What's the difference between a Japanese and an American? Color? Religion? So, they're still human and have should have the same equal rights.

"She thought it would be cruel to kill even an ant, a bee. To you, a tree in winter is bare and ugly, but to her, they looked like black lace against a white dress in the sky.

"She played a game: if she heard or saw a bird she would try to identify it. Her favorite bird was the Robin, which she considered good luck.

"She feels as if she isn't one person, but many. She acts one way at home, another at school, another when alone. She acts differently at with a friend than she does with a cousin.

"She was also afraid to grow up. She's afraid she will lose her imagination and ideas for stories. Maybe she would not face reality. She lived in a dream world.

"I know that girl. I am that girl. My name is Nancy Adair Ensminger. I can't get Peter Pan, Joan of Arc, Lord Jim, Hank Morgan out of my head. I am 11 years old. The End."

My idealism was already set. I spent my teen years endeavoring to live up to these ideals of loving and accepting everyone as they were, to do no harm, to encourage imagination, and to see beauty in nature.

1965 Newspaper article on Jane Addams School graffiti 

You Can Take the Girl Out Of Tonawanda, But Can You Take Tonawanda Out Of the Girl?

In June, 1963 my family moved from Tonawanda to my grandparent's house in Royal Oak, Michigan. Everything had been packed the day before and we slept on the floor with only pillows and blankets in the empty living room. The movers loaded up our possessions and then we piled into our car for the six hour trip from Niagara Falls to Detroit, across the flat Ontario farmland we knew so well from many other trips.

Most of our possessions were stored in my grandparent's garage but I had my Barbie doll case with Barbie, Midge, and Ken and all their clothes. Next door to my grandparents lived Doug and Mary M. and their children Larry and Gail. Gail was a year younger than I. A few years previous when visiting my grandparents I had seen Gail's Barbie and I asked Mom for one. I never cared for baby dolls, but I loved dressing fashion dolls. Gail and her friends from down the street and I played dolls on Gail's front porch all summer.

My Ramer Grandparents at the left in their back yard, the
sleeping porch can be seen on the second story

My Grandparent's house on Gardenia

My grandparent's house had a second story, screened summer sleeping porch off the master bedroom. I was first put in a bedroom at the front of the house near the street. Gardenia was on a hill and traffic came down the hill too fast and too noisy; I could not sleep. So, a cot was put on the sleeping porch and it became my bedroom. I loved, loved, loved it.

Pepper in her later years

The porch overlooked the yard, dense with tall trees. Blue Jays and Fox squirrels played among the branches. It was great being reunited with my dog Pepper who had been living with my grandparents for several years. Pepper loved to chase the squirrels up a tree, and they would chatter down and tease her, just out of reach. The sunlight penetrated the tree leaves in shafts of light, dappling the ground below. I was listening to the radio and playing on the sleeping porch when I heard that the Bald Eagle was endangered. It was an awakening.

my grandfather's bookcase in my house

I did not have books to read so I looked over my grandfather's bookshelf. He had a Globe-Werneke barrister bookcase, bought while at college; I've had that bookcase since 1972. Some of the books I found there was an illustrated children's book of Hiawatha and Bambi and 101 Famous Poems, which I read so often that Gramps gave it to me. I wrote about it here.

Mom would give me a quarter and I would walk down Gardenia and cross Main Street to buy comic books from the drug store. Although other comics were cheaper, I always wanted a Classics Illustrated Comic Book. I read them over and over. My favorites included Lord Jim, Les Miserables, and Jane Eyre.

Mom would take me to Frenz and Sons hardware, also at Gardenia and Main, where I would buy Barbie clothes.  And when Mom and Grandma went to the Hollywood Market near downtown Royal Oak I could choose a toy, plastic sets of model dogs or knights and horses, or glittery, plastic high heels that always broke, or a coloring book. Once when pondering my choices a nice lady stopped to talk to me. She said I would grow up to be a very pretty girl. That stuck with me because usually, I heard I would be "so pretty if" I lost weight! It was a cherished affirmation.

That summer the entire family, three generations, watched Sing Along with Mitch Miller, and we did sing along. I watched local Detroit shows like George Pierrot's Presents, a travel show, and Twin Pine's Milky the Clown. I hated Soupy Sales. I saw the first Outer Limits show at my grandparent's house that fall.

When school started Mom drove me to Northwood Elementary school. My parents were buying a house near that school, but we did not move in until several weeks into the school year.

Life had been busy and fun and like an extended vacation. But with school, the implications of moving became harder.

Northwood Elementary school was built in 1923, unlike my brand new school in Tonawanda. (Northwood was pulled down in 2008 and a new complex built on the site.) There were staircases to climb to get to my classroom on the second floor. Large windows filled the classroom with light.

At r, cess the kids ran up and down the large playground's hill. They played 4-Square, a game I had never heard of before. The kids chalked a large square on the asphalt or cement, divided into four smaller squares. A kid was in each square, and they bounced a ball into a square and that kid had to bounce it into some other square.

My Sixth Grade Class at Northwood Elementary School

I was shy and introverted, unable to just join in. I preferred to watch the bumblebees gather pollen from the wildflowers along the fence.

I really liked my first male teacher, Mr. Raymond Saffronoff.  We had "New Math" and for the first time I actually did well in math. We learned about Michigan flora and fauna in preparation for a spring visit to Kensington Nature Park; on the trip I saw a Pileated Woodpecker!I worked on a report about birds.

I enjoyed music class where we learned folk songs from around the world. I would gaze at the piano, longing to play it. I missed playing the piano so much.

My Sixth Grade year was punctuated by events I never forgot: The Kennedy assassination and the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. The Beatles because I did not like their music, which seemed inane to me: I Wanna Hold Your Hand, Yeah Yeah Yeah. But all my classmates loved them, making me feel even more of an outsider.  But several years previous, after hearing Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Tiny Polkadot Bikini on the car radio when Janet L.'s sister Ruth drove us to Summer Camp at Herbert Hoover Jr High, I had promised my Grandmother Gochenour I would never like Rock and Roll. I meant to keep my word.

On Friday afternoon our class visited the school library. From its stacks of older books I took home children's classics like The Wind in the Willows, Peter Pan, and the Oz books. At Philip Sheridan the library was full of newly published books, now become classics. At Northwood I discovered the vintage classics.

On that Friday of November 22, 1963, Mr. Saffronoff and took us from the library back to our classroom. He said that the president had been shot and that we were to go home early.

It was a long, frightening walk home. I did not know if the Russians would take over our country because our leader was dead. I did not know if our parents could protect us. I had not felt this dread since the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Over the next days, the adults were all glued to the television set. On the day of President Kennedy's funeral my family gathered at my grandparent's house to watch it on TV. I saw young John salute his daddy and felt bad for little Caroline.

After we moved from my grandparent's home I still saw Gail but had not made new friends at Northwood or on Houstonia. I was growing more homesick all the time. Nancy Ensminger and I wrote letters, and I saw her and my cousins when we visited Tonawanda. But life was lonely and boring. I know I complained and Dad would suggest I go out and start up a baseball game. I thought he was crazy. I didn't know how to play baseball. We didn't have a ball or bat or glove. And I was too shy to start up anything.

I was too young to realize that my family were all dealing with homesickness and adjusting to their new lives, too. Grandma Gochenour missed her church friends, her lifelong friend Annie Hooverman, and her family. Mom's health was not good and Dad worked two jobs. Grandma finally decided to return to Tonawanda and live with Aunt Alice and Uncle Kenny.

My yellow bedroom

When we first moved into the Houstonia house Mom decorated a bedroom for me with yellow walls. I had a display case for my Beyer horse collection and a bookcase for my books. There was a walk-in closet with shelves where I stored my Classic Comic Books. The windows faced the east, and on summer mornings the sunlight streamed in. Grandma Gochenour and my little brother Tom had first floor bedrooms and my folks were in the other upstairs bedroom.

My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Joe lived in Lincoln Park and my cousin Sue was just a few years younger than me. So I did have one cousin nearby to play with.

Showing my cousin Sue my 1963 Christmas Presents

After Grandma Gochenour moved back to Tonawanda my brother could not be alone on the first floor, so he was moved into my bedroom and I was moved into the small, first floor bedroom. It was near the back of the house. The window faced the pear tree in the back yard. When it rained the gutter clattered and kept me awake. I had a transistor radio and would listen to it in bed in the dark, amazed to hear stations from all over the country.

Summer came. I had no friends to play with, there were no kids gathering for games of Mother-May-I or Red Light, Green Light, nothing to do. I discovered classic movies on Bill Kennedy's Showtime.

I had always loved television, but these old movies became my passion. Jimmy Stewart in Harvey and It's a Wonderful Life; Blood and Sand and The Sun Also Rises with Tyrone Power; Gregory Peck in The Snows of Kilimanjaro; Errol Flynn in Captain Blood! I didn't understand what was going on between 'men and women' but I loved the action scenes and the funny parts.

*****

At the end of the school year a mimeographed booklet was published by the student council. It included jokes, class prophecies, and such. My copy is faded and I transcribed it a few years back.

Highlights of 1963-1964 were listed as:

• Governor Romney is the governor of Michigan.
• President Johnson is fast becoming popular
• R. Nixon-B. Goldwater are the chief candidates for president (Republican)
• New York has a World's Fair this year
• Our class helped plant trees on the playground
• We had a big awards assembly out on the playground
• In November we collected 75 bundles for Bundle Days
• Alaska was shaken by a huge earthquake on March 27, 1964 (Good Friday)
• We collected 64 dollars for the United Foundation
• On Mary 25, 1964 we had an assembly honoring Michigan Week
• Another terrible tornado hit the Anchor Bay area in May 1964
• For Arbor Day '64; we planted ten trees, one of which is the Red Maple from Mrs. White.
• We had an assembly on May 17, 1964 honoring the Student Council, Audio Visual Club, Squad Patrols, and the Service Squad. Band and Stings played at the Assembly.
• We collected many, many cans for food for the needy over Thanksgiving last November.

The class will said I would leave my horse books to another girl in the class, and my prophecy was to become "an olive stuffer", which I found offensive. I figured it either meant I was too stupid to do anything else or that I would be stuffing the olives into my mouth to eat!

My Sixth Grade class did not all go to the same junior high school. Many in the booklet I came to know later in high school. It was just a one year stop on the way for me.

*****

1964 was the year of the elephant jokes.

How do you get an elephant out of a bowl of custard?
Read the directions on the back of the package.

What's big, gray, and lumpy?
Elephant Tapioca.

What was the elephant doing on the highway?
Oh, about 84 miles per hour.

Why do elephants lay on their backs in the water and stick their feet in the air?
So you can tell them from a bar of soap.

What happens when an elephant steps on some grapes?
It lets out a little wine.

What's gray and has a trunk?
An elephant leaving town.

When an elephant sits on your fence what time is it?
Time to get a new fence.

Old Lady: Must I stick the stamp on myself?
Post Office Employee: No, stick it on the envelope.

Patient: Every time I drink a cup of coffee I get a sharp pain in my eye. What should I do?
Doctor: Just take the spoon out of the cup.

Policeman: You are under arrest for speeding.
Motorist: I wasn't speeding but I passed a couple of fellow who were.

First Dragon: Am I late for supper?
Second Dragon: Yes, everyone's eaten.

What's giant, purple, and lives in the sea?
Moby Plum

What holds the moon up?
Moonbeams

What is green and flies in the sky?
Super Pickle

Why does a traffic light turn red?
You'd turn red too if you had to change in front of all those people.

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