Nancy Goes to College: Greeks, Freaks, and GDIs

I have not thought about my freshman year at college for decades. Recreating the year from diaries and photos, and probing a few friends, brought revelations. 

Mr. Botens told my freshman English class in fall of 1966 that we are three people: the person you were in the past, the person you are now this minute, and the person you will and want to become in the future. During my freshman college year I was making very important decisions about the kind of woman I wanted to become.

Adrian Freshman yearbook photo

August, 1970, I arrived at Adrian College in Adrian, Michigan and moved into the second floor of Estes Hall. It was the dorm I had seen on my tour and had liked so well. As I unpacked the floral fabric suitcases I had received as a graduation gift, I was unpacking my past, a wardrobe and mementos from high school.

Carillon tower, Adrian College

The new album Crosby Stills Nash and Young  was blasting out of a men's dorm window near the quad where guys were always playing Frisbee. To this day, that music brings back the heady sounds of late summer, the joy of being young and on the cusp of new adventure. This year was a perpetual roller coaster of new experiences and new people.

Adrian College

Adrian College, with only 1,500 students, was half the size of Kimball High. Greek societies were important on campus, dorms were segregated, and girls had curfews. It was like living in the 50s.

There were four Kimball girls there: Me, Lynn Martin, Nancy Briggs, and Jan McDonald. Except for Lynn I rarely ran into any of them. Also, I knew a boy from my church and Sunday School class.

Lynn Martin

Nancy Briggs

Jan McDonald

Also in Estes Hall was my old friend Lynn Martin who was rooming with Marti from Redford.

My roommate Gloria was an extrovert and quickly made friends. I tagged along. She even organized 'dinner parties' which we jointly prepared in the dorm basement kitchen.

Our dorm room. I see my drawing on the lower left, art by my boyfriend,
 my lighted mirror and my guitar.

Our dorm room. The Love Story poster from my boyfriend.

When Gloria decided to run for class secretary she enlisted everyone in her campaign. She had posters made which we helped to hang in the cafeteria.

Me and Lynn, Adrian cafeteria

Lynn on the right, me on the left. Steve in the center
Working on Gloria's campaign.

I became friends with another Estes Hall girl, Elaine, and her high school boyfriend Tim. Elaine played the violin and mandolin. One night she used her Mary Kay cosmetics and gave me a makeover. Tim was in Phi Mu Alpha, a music fraternity, and I got to know many his brothers. For some reason we called him 'Uncle Tim' and his frat brothers were all 'Uncle' to me.

Gloria and Elaine

Tim and me

I took Eastern Civ because I already had a good basis in Western Civ  from Kimball from my Ancient and Medieval History and Modern History classes. I struggled with Freshman Composition and Lit. because of my lousy spelling and lack of skill in non-creative writing. Introduction to Philosophy was disappointing. It was all logic and not like what we had studied in Mr. Boten's Western Lit class.

I looked forward to Environmental Biology, having enjoyed Mr. Gasiorowski's high school class. Professor Husband was a great teacher. The class was held in a lecture hall for 100 students.

I sat next to Sendy whose father was a professor at Adrian. One day she told me she knew traditional Chinese palm reading and asked to read my palm. She said I had tapered, narrow fingers, which was unusual; I thought it because I had played piano since I was eight. Sendy said I would have a smooth life, have 'love affairs' but fall in love only once, that I would not have much of a career but I would have three children, and I live into my 80s before I had health problems. She also said I was intelligent but not an A student. I never had those three kids. I never had a real career. I did get A grades eventually. I'm still waiting to see about the long life.

Gym was required. I was OK at archery but lousy at volleyball. Then I tried Folk Dancing. My first partner was an artist--my type, I thought. I had a mad crush on him. Over the year we became friendly but not really friends. My second dance partner was a quiet, tall mountain of a man who was light on his feet and a better dancer than me!

Jim with his Smile pin

That fall I saw an ad in a magazine for Smile face pins and ordered them. I gave one to each new friend I made. I called it my 'People Collecting Club.' I gave out twenty pins over the year. By spring, the yellow Smiley face image could be found on sale everywhere. I was ahead of the curve!

The original order form for Smile face stuff

Over the next years people gave me all kinds of Smile face items.

I believe this year Adrian had seven African American students. Adrian was created by Asa Mahan, the first president of Oberlin College. He was an abolitionist involved in the Underground Railroad. Adrian now houses The Sojourner Truth Technical Training Center and digital archive on the Underground Railroad. I thought it was sad there was so little diversity on campus.

Friends finding out how many can fit into the Estes Hall phone booth

My parents' Halloween costumes 

At Thanksgiving break my old boyfriend came to visit my family with his wife and baby. I was very glad to be where I was instead of married with a kid. I went on a date with the boy I sometimes dated.

I am with my old boyfriend's baby.
I am wearing a wig, which were popular, and a peace dove button.

Jim few into town to visit me for a weekend. We had been writing all fall and he hoped to cement our relationship. His folks did not support his coming and I tried to dissuade him from coming. Dad took Jim, Tom, and me to Roselawn Cemetery at 12 MI in Berkley to fed the ducks at the pond there. I bet we are the only family that regularly went to the cemetery for fun!

I sang some Leonard Cohen songs I had learned including "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye." Jim became angry and asked if I was trying to tell him something. He had brought records to share with me. We were sitting on the floor in my living room listening on the high fi, the records scattered across the floor. My brother walked through the room near the records and Jim yelled a warning at him not to step on them. His response seemed unjustified. These flashes of petulance resulted in my realizing we had no future.

That fall The Association and Josh White Jr. performed on campus.

Marti, a lifelong United Methodist, took me to a communion chapel service before Christmas break. I was Episcopal and the United Methodist service was very different; I had a negative 'culture shock' first reaction.

Marti Boynton

At Christmas, I had a party with Kimball friends and my new friends Marti and Sam from Adrian. My friend since Jane Addams Jr High and fellow Girls Choir member Peggy D. and I played guitar. I also went on a date with the boy I sometimes saw.

Playing my guitar at the Christmas party

Second semester brought changes. Girls went out for Rush Week to choose sororities, including my roommate Gloria. She moved out to room with a sorority sister. Lynn and Marti parted ways and Marti became my roommate.

Marti in Estes Hall common area

I had decided to be a GDI--God Damned Independent--and not join a sorority. I did not like the exclusivity. I wanted to have friends from all kinds of backgrounds like I had at Kimball.

second semester ID

I was in the college choir, singing second alto. Marti was also in choir. Our concert piece was The Carmina Burana. We sang the opening piece O Fortuna in chapel!

I am front row center,

I was also was in the required Comp part two, Philosophy of Religion, Historical Geology, and Intro to History.

I loved Historical Geology class. In March the class went to a limestone quarry in Ohio to look for fossils. I loved rock collecting and thought it was great fun. It was a beautiful day. I wrote, "We all separate, diligently, eagerly, clawing at the rocks and crumbling rubble, coming up with brachiopods, trilobites, corals, and dirt, dust, and more dirt." I lost my boot heel in the mud.

That evening a friend, Tom, asked me to walk with him to the Spanish Inn in Adrian. I had never eaten Mexican food before coming to Adrian. The first time I saw tacos on the lunch tray I had no idea how to eat them. We walked across the College Street bridge talking about college and poetry. He ordered new food for me to try.

With Marti I made friends different from those I met through Gloria. George, Jack, Jim, and Dick and Marti and I had a lot of fun together, eating meals together in the cafeteria and hanging at the Pub. I taught lessons in Sugar Drawing. Basically, you pour the sugar out from the packets onto the table, and run your finger through it to draw. What a waste.

Jack, Marti and me at the Pizza Bucket in Adrian

Lynn, George, and Marti at Estes Hall

One day during lunch the guys threw sugar packets at Marti. When we rose to leave, George quietly picked up all the packets and put them back. I was very impressed and declared forever more the day be celebrated in his honor. Marti still remembers to celebrate George Quay Day. On February 21, 1971, George told me about meeting a girl back home, Nancy Hemmings. She would become his wife.

George

Jack

Jim playing in the student lounge

Like many Adrian students, most weekends Marti went home. I spent a lot of time in the library, reading Greek plays and the poetry of T.S. Eliot. I noted reading Art and Reality by Joyce Cary, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hemingway, The Idiot by Dostoyevsky, Hawaii by Michener, and Beck: A Book by John Updike. I mention seeing the movie Catch 22 on campus. Looking at my grades this year, I should have been studying and not free reading!

I also spent a lot of time at the Pub, drinking coffee and reading. I had the idea that a book would magically attract 'the right sort'. The Pub had barrel chairs and tables, pinball machines, and a jukebox. The soda bar sold light refreshments including the first bagels and cream cheese I had ever seen.

People would sit down at the table with me to talk. One weekend Ed, a 'pinball wizard', sat down with me. He was joined by Chris who had long hair and a maxi coat. Chris invited me to come to his parties at his off-campus pad. Ed shook his head, warning me I would not like it. I was so naive I had no idea that these 'parties' were not like the ones my family held!

Chris was also in my philosophy class. He started calling me and we dated for a while. His friends thought that I was too straight and would pull him away from hosting parties. My friends worried that he would 'corrupt me.'

He took me home to visit and I met his mom. Something in him wanted to be saved, but then he'd try to persuade me to change who I was. He was interesting and different, played piano and guitar and had a faith in God, but I knew he was not right for me. I would not change who I was and he did not want to change either. Later he went out with Lynn and liked her, but she liked another boy.

I am wearing a top from Finland

I wrote that Jack and I went to the spring dance with Jim and George and their dates. It was completely friendly.

I am goofing off, playing Cousin It

I was thrilled when the college literary magazine accepted and published my poem The Remodeled Temple. The poem was inspired by my family trip to Niagara Falls the previous year when I saw the yellow foam from phosphate pollution.

Niagara flows over the jutting escarpment
anciently pushed upwards by monstrous
inward powers generated from below--
a long forgotten strength.

The mist rises like steam from a hot bath,
like rain...falling upwards
in billowing clouds of opaque moisture.
Water tumbles white bubbles at the foot,
and foaming, floating, spreading to the river's boundary,
creeps the current born brown-yellow scum.

Where once nature held a holy and secret temple
to the gods, in the midst of this, their handiwork,
celebrating with glorious roaring its own beauty,
man now divides with concrete
and steel-skeletoned buildings,
and populates the shore continually,
people holding cameras and ticket stubs
and souvenirs and pride ("I was here")
and pollutes the waters with his
competent, advanced, scientific, civilized
waste.

George and I flew kites on campus between Mahon and Dawson Hall. The kites got tangled up and kids stopped by to help, including a seven-year-old boy who made plans to met us the next day for more kite flying in the IM field. Lots of local kids hung around campus.

Jim had been depressed but now wrote that he had found a 'replacement' for me and I was glad. He also asked me to keep writing to him. A few weeks later he called because I had not sent any letters. A guy was waiting for me in the lobby to go see Tora Tora Tora and I did not have time to talk. (That was one boring movie.)

Over spring break I attended my home church, went to Great Scott and saw the Kimball boy I knew who worked there, and discovered that my first crush Mike was back on the block. He was as cute as ever and I was still too shy to talk to him. My brother and his brother became friends. Sam and Marti came to visit me.

A little-known singer, John Denver, performed at the college that spring. His song Leaving on a Jet Plane had been recorded by Peter, Paul, and Mary. Now he was trying to make it singing his own songs. After the concert, several of my People Collecting Club members and I went backstage to give him a smile pin.

Another May trip back home I went to Barney's in the morning and that afternoon saw my grandfather Ramer in the hospital. It must have been when he had his second heart attack. The next day, Sam and Marti and I went to Kensington Nature Park and "untangled fishing line." That evening we went to the Raven Gallery. On the way home, I got pensive and despaired, wondering if I should become a 'freak' since it seemed the all the creative people were. Sam asked Marti if I got that way often.

May 3, 1971, I wrote about man's imperfection and the resulting hypocrisy. "Man desires the love and esteem of his fellow men, but finds his faults only merit their hatred and contempt," I noted Pascal wrote in his Pensees.

I was determined that my "reach exceed my grasp" in trying to be better.

"We try to make ourselves helpful, useful; we try to reach in our bumbling way. We can't always see--if sometimes we're blind, well, what can we say? Admit the fact, try harder. We know we'll never reach perfection. God knows, he made us imperfect, yet we insist on trying our hand at it. No one can please all of the people. No one man can be universally loved, accepted, liked. I must and do take my enemies as inevitable. It makes me sad and guilty and forces me to take another look at myself--detect flaws to be changed. But I am confident that I am on the right track, I have made friends."

In early May when I was in the Pub a boy named Jim sat down with me. I did not care for him; he was a horrible flirt. Really, he had the worse lines ever. He said I'd make a 'good minister's wife,' which was the last thing on my mind. Then he was joined by a boy who had his head in a music score, waving his hands in the air. Gary was in conducting class and was just given the music he was to conduct for his final. I perked up, for it was rare to meet someone who liked classical music.

Jim and Gary went to Ohio that weekend to investigate a seminary. On Monday I had a sore throat and went to the school doctor; he said I had strep throat and perhaps mono. I was on painkillers and was unable to sing in the spring concert. It didn't keep me bedridden. I was at the Pub and hanging out. On Wednesday a bunch of us 'went raving' in Gary's VW, driving down the dark country roads.

Gary and I were getting to know each other. One of Gary's friends, Gwen, asked how I felt about him. I liked him. Elaine thought she should have met Gary first because she thought they were better suited for each other! Since Gary and Tim were both in Phi Mu Alpha it is surprising they had not met already.

Over Memorial Day weekend Gary took me to his home. His family made their annual trip to the cemetery and I waited while they cleared the grave sites and left flowers. His mom had packed baloney and butter sandwiches to eat for lunch. I hated butter on sandwiches. Apparently, our families had one thing in common: they believed in taking their kids' friends to the cemetery!

One Saturday night I woke up, hearing voices. Several drunk boys were outside my dorm window, trying to climb up to see a girl on the second floor. Usually, a girl would prop open the side door so a boy could sneak in!

Two ATO frats were killed in a drunk driving accident on May 22.

Sam and Marti broke up, then reunited. Elaine and Tim broke up. She had met a boy while visiting home.

Gary was taking summer school classes because he couldn't get work at GM for the summer. That meant he would graduate a semester early. I was going home for the summer. As we got to know each other over those two weeks I forgot about all those other boys. Gary seemed about perfect.

School ended and I returned home. I visited old friends. My family went to my Uncle Dave's home for dinner. We had ice cream at Howard Johnsons. I visited the McNab family.

I missed Gary. Then on June 1, there was a knock on the door and a VW parked out front. Gary had stopped by on his way from Grand Blanc to Ohio. He would stop by again on his way back. Mom liked him. When he returned, Sam and Marti and Gary and I went to the Detroit Zoo.

Over summer Gary would spend many weekends at my home.

Summer 1970: A Time of Transition

Me, June 1970, wearing a woven bark bead necklace from Finland
and a culotte dress in a very 1970s print.

Graduation was exciting. I wrote I had "reached success" because I had made so many friends and was "surrounded by love and friendship." The whirl of parties and people kept me high. I saw old friends and made new ones who I would never see again. There were guitars and singing, TPing trips, dancing, and swimming.

Everywhere I went I saw Kimball kids. Cars honked and hands waved. I had come to Royal Oak knowing no one. Now it was home.

I wrote free association in my diary, writing about feeling in limbo:

"I am held in mid-air,
not a part of  Kimball, the past
my loves and friends,
not a part of tomorrow and college.

I am ended.
I am waiting.
I will begin again,
seven weeks from now.

I must leave behind
my childhood."

And another time I wrote,

"I am leaving
torn again, part left behind
     part to travel onward—
I am pierced
       broken
        between time."

The summer of 1970 brought my first job, the loss of my exchange student sister, and a boy.

This magazine ad was my inspiration
I had it on my bedroom wall.

When I graduated from high school my mom was 38 years old. Dad was 39. My brother was 10. And I was still 17. We all had summer birthdays.

My family around Christmas 1969

On July 23 I helped Elina pack her suitcase. Uta and Elina's best friend Paula came to our house for dinner and then we went out for ice cream. The next day we drove Elina to Saginaw Valley College where all the Michigan exchange students were gathered before flying home. I wrote,

Mom teaching Paula to jitterbug

"July 24, 1970, Friday
We got up early— Went to Saginaw Valley College.  All night I had recalled waiting for Elina to arrive, her late plane; and now we walked in the fine rain under gray, crying skies, to take her on her way home.
The dorm room was nice—small but pleasant. Her roommate was a Swedish girl, peculiar, a hopeful writer, nice. We talked. They’ll be busy & have fun.
She [Elina] saw Hannah [another Finnish girl] and her girlfriend from Rovaniemi. The other girl turned, crying, her family moving off in a white car.
Mom said goodbye to Elina, then I. Elina was tearless, smiling, cheerful. We got in the car and drove off, waving.
Mom had her tears before we left, crying on Elina’s shoulder.
Dad later cried, on his bed.
Tom wouldn’t kiss her goodbye.
I walked into what had been Elina's room, opened the windows. I wondered what to do with the remnants, and then I cried."

Elina, Lancer 1970 photo

I needed to find a job. I first was hired for a job in telephone sales making $1.60 an hour but was looking for something better. I applied for jobs at the Main Theater and other places, but really wanted the job at Barney's, the Save-On drug store at Crooks and 13 Mile Road. I had often stopped there on my way home from school to buy a notebook, magazine, or paperback book.

I got the Barney's job as a cashier at the front register. Dad taught me how to count change back to the customer. One day a man pulled the old trick of trying to confuse the cashier. He gave me a twenty dollar bill and I gave him change. He then decided he wanted me to return the twenty and he'd return the change and asked me to give him different denominations back. I don't know if he was successful but I recall being confused.

On July 29 I wrote,

"I am officially 18, though, because of saying it’s my age for months—I feel like I’ve been 18 all year.
Uta’s leaving after tomorrow.  Alta’s coming over tonight.
I am sad—read many sad things today: Thomas Mann's Little Herr Friedemann, The Big Eye--sci-fi short stories, Mausappant. etc.
I am 18 & Mom says I’m 'on my own'. I miss Kimball. I’m anxious for Adrian."

My old beau contacted us to say he had married his girlfriend, the girl we had broken up over, several weeks previous.

On August 3 I wrote that Uta's American Mom said that Uta 'cried terribly' upon parting.

The upside of working at Barney's was seeing so many Kimball kids. But I felt I was living in a 'shadow land', with high school in my past and college in the future.

On August 15 I bought a new coat at Fields in Royal Oak. I was gathering what I needed for college.

There was a partial eclipse of the moon on August 16 and we saw the Northern Lights. Dad always knew about these things and made sure we saw them.

On August 18 I talked with my Adrian roommate on the phone. I was disappointed because she was interested only in coordinating the dorm room with matching bed spreads. I wanted to know if we had mutual interests and might be friends. The college 'matched' roommates, and in a superficial way we were 'compatible.' We were both active in school. I had been in journalism and choir and had an exchange student. She was class secretary and on Homecoming court. Quite different backgrounds!

On August 26 My friend Alta came to my house with her childhood friend, who was visiting the area with his friend Jim. I wrote that I had on bell bottom jeans, a flag t-shirt, bare feet, with my hair held back in a clip.

It appeared Alta had told Jim about me. We talked about authors and books. I was surprised when Jim started quoting from Romeo and Juliet, holding my hand, and then he kissed me. Things were going awfully fast for a first meeting. I was a little starry eyed but also suspicious.

He returned a few days later and had his brother take a photo of us together. He made it clear he wanted to have a long distance relationship. We had fun together and unlike any boy before, we did share a love of poetry, writing, and the arts. But I wondered if he was 'snowing' me. And why would someone settle for a long distance relationship?

So I went off to college with a 'boyfriend,' someone I barely knew, who had a girl in his hometown but was talking about plans for 'our future.' I was doubtful about the whole relationship. I warned that I was not going to be tied down, that in college I hoped to met many new people and expected he would date, too.

I kept in mind a line from a favorite poem by Robert Hillyer: “Illusion shatters, the idea is much more ruthless than the real." I did not want to jump into a relationship that was not based on really knowing each other. I'd been down that road before.

College represented a journey of growth and further knowledge of the world.

In my diary I quoted Ecclesiastes,

I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me; and my mind has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge, and I applied my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this is also but a striving after wind.  For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases wisdom, increases sorrow. (Ecclesiastes, 16-18).

Then I added, "It may be true, but such is my vanity that I want to obtain much knowledge and be wise, and discover much truth, and hence I’m off to college."

I had written on my college application that I wanted to understand the Big Picture, how history and the present, the physical world and the created world, all linked together. I had great curiosity. I applied as a teaching major, too unsure to say "writer." I had thought about teaching since junior high school when I was Mrs. Hayden's class. I had 'taught' my little brother, taught friends guitar chords and piano, and personally loved school. I liked understanding something and translating what I had learned to share with others.

In my diary I wrote, "I want to go to college for the potential friendships that may come in the small college atmosphere. I plan to meet and know many people, branding some with the name of 'friend'. I want to finish my learning and want nothing to hinder it. I have many football games and concerts to attend, and many friendships to establish and keep fueled, and much to learn and to become."

I bought this wristwatch. 

I had a Hot Pot, the plastic case 'Mustang' Hi-Fi my folks bought me at K-Mart for Christmas in 1967, a Love Story poster from Jim, my Kimball class ring and the gold cross from Confirmation, my Charlie the Tuna wristwatch, and my books including Pascal's Pensees, poetry books by Stephen Crane and Robert Hillyer, my leather bound Confirmation presentation Bible, and You Can't Go Home Again by Thomas Wolfe. I had my high school skirts and sweaters, the tiger stripe fur hat from Dorothy and Kathy, a poncho with Astrology signs, and bell bottom jeans.

Best of all I had confidence and hope.

Here I am out in the woods with Dad

Junior Jitters and Heartbreak

Eleventh Grade, the Junior Jitters year.

Life after high school was unimaginable. I worried about finding a job, paying income taxes, getting married, having children, and washing and ironing and paying the bills. I wanted something more. I wanted to dream.

Me in 1968

I knew my grades wouldn't get me into college. "I don’t know anything except avoiding homework, loving people, chasing boys, and wants and hopes and dreams and music and writing and reading and beauty and needing friendship," I wrote.

When Nancy Ensminger and I were nine years old we had discussed what we wanted to be when we grew up. I wanted to be a writer because I believed writers had the power to change people's lives. At sixteen I hoped to "learn to write" and publish. I wondered if I could "take up writing in college." It seems "impossible & improbable & obscure & obscene, but in dreams I see it as reality." My second hope was to "be a friend to mankind" and "a help to people."

I wrote in my journal,

"Could N. Gochenour be transformed into a poet or short story writer?  This mass of misspelled words and incorrect grammar be shuffled around to form a tangible and solid author-type person?
Do I dare to satisfy my childhood dream?  Do I dare to step out?  Do I dare try my hand at being somebody?  Can I succeed?"

I was very internally focused in my scribbling.

"Have you ever stood quietly and felt your heart beating inside of you? Be very still and don’t move or breathe. If you listen, you’ll feel it there. So faintly..."

"Thin lined paper beckons me to write. It makes me want to mess up its unblemished surface. It makes me want to write nicely with round, even letters and long words. I find it hard to pass up thin-lined paper. I have this need to create and write. I love writing—writing anything, even if only the alphabet or a perfection of one work, with curly-cues in all the right places. And I want to write of how [the boys I liked] never come, but always just look at you with those heavy eyes, and it’s always [the unsuitable boys] who find you. And how you are flattered into it though you know such differences exist and they aren’t the ones, but the [boy you like] goes off with other girls."

1968. My 'at home' uniform: sweatshirt, jeans, and moccasins.

On October 1 I wrote, "What am I doing? Taking history, economics, chemistry, I'm in PAC, editor of "Our Paper" [a project of the senior high Sunday School class at St John's Episcopal Church]. I write poetry. I also participate in that All-American game--Boys."

Herald article on the Political Action Club

On October 2 Mr. Warner came into Mr. Perry's economics class and called out, "Debbie!" and I said, "No-Nancy." I wrote, "He informed me to take International Relations. With that, Perry, Burroughs & Arndt I'd be prepared for college. Before he left he gave my book a karate kick off the desk & exclaimed to Mr. P, "You've got some ugly girls, too, huh?" Mr. Perry shook his head as Mr. W left, and a girl asked, "Who WAS that man!"

Mr Warner in my International Relations classroom, 1969

At least one teacher was talking to me about college.

On October 3 I wrote that everyone was carrying transistor radios to hear the World Series with the Detroit Tigers vs. the Cardinals. On Oct 11 I wrote that the Tigers had won.

I went to the first football game wearing my navy coat, a skirt, and my hair pulled back under a black lambswool pill box hat I found at a garage sale. My hat was crazy and a hit. My teachers remarked on it, with my chemistry teacher Mr. Heald teasing and asking if it was bear fur.

I went campaigning door-to-door with the Political Action Club. I recall we were for Romney for governor.

I bought and read news magazines, then cut the ads out to adorn my bedroom walls and to use in collages to illustrate books I made of my poetry. I had several poems in The Herald--pretty awful, derivative stuff! Including this poem:

page from my poetry book

We are all one in our fight.
our strength is one strength in our strife;
our weaknesses merge into one weakness;
our ideas build like blocks
to form one universal conception.

But when strength is pitted against strength
in one being;
when ideas are kept apart;
building blocks are missing
and the conception falls
as we will fall
if we are not all one in our flight.

a collage I made for my poem Spring Fever

Herald Staff 1968-69. I am in the second row on the far left

wearing one of Mom's 1950s wool skirts which I shortened.

One of my first articles for the Herald

 I got my class ring in October. I wore it proudly.

Me with red hair

My hair had become dark golden brown and Mom suggested I lighten it as I was born blond. Instead, I became a redhead! It took three generations to accomplish it, with my mom and grandmother helping. My Grandmother and Mother also encouraged me to try contact lens and helped me earn the $200 to buy them. They were green, to enhance my hazel eyes.

On October 20 my family went to Tonawanda. I wrote,

"We went to visit the Kuhns last night; called Nancy Ensminger. Saw the Randall’s today. V. N.! [Very nice] Mike R. is tall--And very cute. Quiet. I got in my 2 cents of mouth flapping. Amused him, too. Very Outgoing: in other words, NOISY, when I could be. Nice time, had coffee & pet their dog, who’s getting bald, and their gray cat, who has a fluorescent orange ball. Razing between Uncle Ken & I. Says I’m a hippie ‘cause I got de long hair."

Mike R. and I had played make believe about space aliens as kids. He grew up to become an actor and television weather reporter.

Nancy Ensminger and me, age 16, October 1968

"Oct. 21 Wore my contacts 5 ½ hrs. today. Yesterday I saw Nancy E. We talked, had our pics taken in a booth (25 cents) at Niesner’s, ate spaghetti, talked, said 'hi' to Bruce [Nancy's brother], and talked. Today we went to the store & I gypped Mom outta $1.99 for a shirt, $1.00 for pantyhose, and $1.00 for 4 scarves. We went to see a certain Louise Cole & mom got her wig fixed & we had pheasant & rabbit (and woodcock) sumpthin' or other that wasn’t half bad at all. I hardly—didn’t even—recognize my “old friend” --ha, ha-- Allan (Al.)  Dark hair and cute. He smiled when I got my mouth moving (same as with Mike) and got, in the end, so we could talk & joke & without bein’ scared of scaring one another or something & all. Showed me his pigeons & rabbits & chickens." [Louise Cole had been our hairdresser when we lived in Tonawanda. Her son was Allan.]

Nancy Ensminger, 1968

Nancy 1968

"Oct 24 We went to the Waterson’s [Doris Waterson was Mom's best friend from high school].  Eric [her youngest son] is lovable. Tom [her older son] there—shot a pheasant. Eric wanted to know what I was giving him this time!  I said, “A kiss!” No! But wait—this time you’re supposed to give ME a present! (Mr. Waterson said to say I wanted “Bunnie”) No—I couldn’t have him! I could have the black-nosed bunny—No. A Tiger?  No—send me your picture. (Eric had his school picture taken that day.)

"Yesterday Debbie [Becker] thought I had a beautiful voice when I played my guitar. Went to Guenther’s. I hardly recognized Stevie—er, Steve! Yipes! I didn’t let him be shy. I teased him. He needed a specific screw for his gun. Linda, Elaine, me, Deb & Steve all piled into the car & took off to about 50 billion stores looking for it. That’s about the extent of it. Tomorrow we’ll return, and then Monday—back to the rat race."

I was still doing art

My art reflecting the social times and psychedelic style

my poster, a typical 60s motif

My junior year classes included Chemistry with Mr. Heald, Herald Staff with Mr. Rosen, Economics with Mr. Perry, International Relations with Mr. Warner, Speech, American Lit, and US History.

I read the 1958 poem Univac to Univac by Louis B. Salomon in Speech class. Hear it here. It is about computers wondering if humans might take over the world. I also read my poem about the Christmas tree under the pen name Stephanie Valentine.

My Chemistry class was in the early afternoon. Mr. Heald would kick the metal trash can to get our attention when we drifted off. Sometimes my hand would keep writing as I nodded off and I woke up with my page all scribbled over. (In college I avoided early afternoon classes because I was still falling asleep at 2 pm!) I did not do well, but learned something because I wrote,

if only out of all this confusion

things could fall into an order--

any kind of order--

so i could observe the situation

and make decisions

but, no, it is as unstable

as an ozone atom.

I wrote that my Economics teacher "Mr. Perry spent the hour pointing out all the reasons why we should commit suicide or something because of the world (U.S.) situation." And I also wrote that I was tired of memorizing tariffs and laws and 'every darn thing.' I passed the class because I grasped the theory, but was inept at the application. My conversation starter became, "And what do you think of the national debt?" 50 years later it is still a relevant question!

I was in Girl's Choir for the second year. I had been in choir with many of these girls for two years now and had many friends. I have the best memories of these girls. We learned the Hallelujah Chorus that year and I would sing it walking through the hallways at school. (I still sing when walking, in the car, feeding the doggies, often making up songs. Still weird after all these years!) I also made new friends, Alta and Carol, who were a year older. 

We participated in the All-City Secondary Vocal Festival on Friday, April 25, 1969, at the Kimball High School Gymnasium. The Combined High School Girls’ Choirs performed:

     Gloria (from “Twelfth Mass”) —Mozart

     Go Not Far From Me, O God—Zingarelli

     Say It With Music—Berlin

     The Wizard of Oz Selections—Arlen

Girl's Choir 1968-69. I am in the third row, fifth from the right end.

Once night Dad drove Alta and me home from a football game. The radio was on and Alta and I sang along to Hey, Jude.

Alta introduced me to a boy who liked me. He took me to his church youth group, which was fun, but the church was very conservative. I remember seeing piles of books about the threat of Communism. The church was against dancing, smoking, drinking, etc. He stood me up one night when we were to go Christmas caroling so to cheer me up Alta took me to a party she was going to. Later one of the boys at the party told Alta he'd like to date me. She didn't think we were each other's type.

My friends Dorothy and Kathy bought me a Christmas present from Jacobson's, a tiger stripe fur hat from Jacobson's! I was very moved. The hat was weird enough to be just my style!

In January I was getting to know the boy from the Christmas party. He was a year older and not typically 'my type.' He was complicated with a difficult home life. And he wasn't interested any more in poetry or books than the other boys who wanted to date me. He got along with my folks and was at my house frequently. I really liked him. I fell into the trap many young girls fall into, thinking that we can solve a boy's problems. He warned that he knew he would "blow our relationship."

We went to the French Club Dance, meeting up with my friends and their beaus. Mom took my photo. It became a family legend! Mr. Warner, my International Relations teacher, made fun of it saying, “St. Nancy of Gochenspeil—This is your airline stewardess.” He kept it to share with his other classes.

Me before the 1969 French Club Dance.
That eagle is still in the family. It is not attached to my head.

Before the prom my relationship with my boyfriend had mutually ended. It broke my heart, yet I was determined to remain a friend because I knew my mom was a good support to him. Later I realized our break up was wise and right. But at the time I wrote a lot of bad poetry over it and it took many months to move beyond the pain.

May 9, 1968, a week before the anniversary of Joe Boten's death, I was feeling very low. I wrote that Mom gave me a Librium and drove me to school. It shocks me now to know Mom was on Librium and even more shocked that had given it to me. Because her psoriasis was believed to be made worse by stress, perhaps her doctor believed the Librium was good for her. There was a lot of bad medication going on back then, and Mom was desperate enough to try anything. Her neck, hands, and major joints were deformed by psoriatic arthritis. Winter found her crippled and bedridden. Neighbors came over during the day to help her out of bed.

Every week, I would put olive oil or a tar ointment in her hair at night. She wrapped her head and let the ointment loosen the psoriasis plaque overnight. A stint in the hospital involved a treatment where tar ointment was applied on her entire body, then she wrapped up in Saran wrap and let it soak overnight. Another treatment involved UV light therapy, but it was stopped when she developed pre-cancerous lesions. She was on and off Cortisone, which made her swell up and thinned her skin.

Mom relied on me to help her in the kitchen. I mashed potatoes and opened jars or cans because her hands were so crippled. I went shopping with her to help carry the bags. I did the Pepsi runs to keep her supplied so she didn't have to get up. Mom thought I would make a good physical therapist since I already was a home care health aide in training.

Also on May 9 I obtained an application for my family to host a foreign exchange student the next school year. A family friend was involved with Youth for Understanding and we had hosted an exchange student for a weekend.

Dad wrote in his memoirs, "We got to know one of Joyce's parent's neighbors in Berkeley, whose name was Anita. She was involved with a student exchange program called Youth for Understanding. She asked us to take a temporary exchange student. Joyce, Nancy, Tom and I talked it over and we decided we would like to get involved with the program."

I wonder if Mom thought it would get my mind off 'boy trouble' to have a sister.

Here I am with the exchange student we hosted for a week.

I already had a prom dress and, boyfriend or not, Mom was determined I would still go to the prom. I personally didn't care.

A neighbor boy had returned from Vietnam and his mom and my mom arranged for him to take me to the prom. Again, we joined up with my friends and their beaus for dinner. My date was nice, but we had nothing in common. He was very old fashioned and didn't believe in women going to college. I had to see my old beau with his new girl. I got to wear the dress but I did not truly enjoy myself.

Ready for the prom, 1968

I was determined not to fall into the depression I had suffered the previous year. My mantra became Resurgam-- I shall rise again. I believe I heard the term from Jane Eyre for it is on the tombstone of Jane's Lowood friend Helen.

I collected sayings to support me.

Jeremiah 8:4
“You shall say to them, thus says the Lord;
When men fall, do they not rise again?
If one turns away, does he not return?”

"No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:62

This may have been the summer when I met a church challenge to attend every Sunday all summer long. I won a copper metal bookmark.

I was awfully tired of growing up. I wrote a short poem,

When do the lessons end?
Is there so much to learn
to comprehend
that the lessons must go on forever,
no holiday, no end?

Summer came. I took Student Drivers Ed in summer school. Learning that alcohol kills brain cells I vowed to not drink. I figured I needed all the brain cells I had! And I did not drink until I was in my late twenties and my husband and I ordered a glass of wine at dinner.

In July I turned seventeen. I wrote that I had been naive and now I was 'corrupted' and looked with old eyes. ("The delicate core of my mind/is made of hopes and dreams/corrupted and destroyed/by harsh reality," I wrote in one poem).

I was truly concerned with the future, thinking more seriously about college, but I had no clue about how to get into college. My folks assumed I'd get married and that my brother would go to college. I was never pushed to improve my grades or rewarded for doing well. Although my orphaned grandfather Ramer had put himself through Susquehanna College and seminary and Columbia teacher's college in the 1920s, and supported my interests, he never said anything about my going to college either. And I still had never talked about it with my folks.

I had changed a lot during the year. I knew I was going to survive seventeen, and not only would I grow up--I finally wanted to.

On July 20, 1969, America landed men on the moon. Alta asked me to write a poem about it.

On the Virgin Soil, Touched

black, endless
rhinestone-set velvet
split
by a small silver needle
traveling by stitches
through space.

finite, three lives
existing
to carry out an excursion
in the name of mankind.

in-the-image-of-God
one foot
touched
the sterile
virgin
soil,
that now knows man.

millions afar--
eyes turned upward--
mouths
no words to form
speech taken away
by wonder
by fear
by sense of man's potential power
standing
in awe
of one foot
and the moon
the friction, touch
coming between.

Around fifteen years ago I made my quilt When Dreams Came True to celebrate the Apollo 11 mission. I used copyright free NASA photographs, fusible applique, commercial fabrics, and machine thread work and machine quilting.

When Dreams Came True by Nancy A. Bekofske

detail from When Dreams Came True by Nancy A. Bekofske

detail from When Dreams Came True by Nancy A. Bekofske

detail of When Dreams Came True by Nancy A. Bekofske

detail from When Dreams Came True by Nancy A. Bekofske