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.

A Q & A with Sarah Shoemaker, author of Mr Rochester

On May 15 The Berkley Public Library and local bookstore Book Beat sponsored a Q and A with Michigan author Sarah Shoemaker whose first book Mr. Rochester went on sale this week.

I was thrilled to chat with Sarah before the program. I learned she was a United Brethren pastor's daughter who was lucky to spend 15 years in one parish.

Sarah began by introducing herself, talking about her career and lifelong interest in writing, and how the book came to be written.

A lifelong writer with a stack of unpublished manuscripts, when her son went to college Sarah returned to school to become a librarian. After she and her husband left Metro-Detroit for Up North she became involved with the local book club. Their choice of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte led to a discussion weighing why Jane would love the gruff, angry Mr. Rochester. A remark that someone should tell his story got Sarah thinking. On the drive home, she decided she would be the one to discover Mr. Rochester's story.

She began by reading period books, then started in writing, continuing her research to understand the 19th c writing style and the background history for her story. She was thankful for the Michigan Electronic Library for obtaining the 50 or so books she needed for her work, including an 1836 volume held together by a rubber band and a rare narrative, Marley, about running a Jamaican plantation.

It took two years of writing and one year of rewriting before Sarah's manuscript was handed over to her agent. The agent met with Grand Central Publishing whose new editor was hired to expand their brand into literary fiction. And the book was sold!

Sarah's editor was precise and demanding, resulting in a flurry of rewriting. In a year the book was ready for market.

When asked about cover ideas, Sarah imagined an English landscape painting with a silhouette of Rochester, back turned, as if surveying the scene. When she saw the cover of a man's silhouette revealing a Jamaican landscape painting it was not what she expected. After reviewing English landscapes, she decided that the cover was, after all, the best choice. The audience agreed it is a great cover.

Another interesting tidbit about the cover is the typeface font and style imitates the first published edition of Jane Eyre, down to the periods.

title page of Jane Eyre, 1847 edition

Sarah explained that 19th c books were not bound with covers as bookbinding was a separate industry from printing. People paid to have a book bound for their permanent library, often in a matching style.

I had detected a Dickensian feel to Mr. Rochester's boyhood story. Sarah told the audience that Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens was a source for understanding the experience of Rochester's education, but she wanted a positive experience for her hero. The friends he made at school offered him the love and acceptance he lacked from his father and brother.

Sarah carefully considered how to keep Rochester true to his own character, and I thought did a great job.

When asked what was Rochester's pivotal life event, Sarah considered and determined that it was his Jamaican experience. Married to the mad Bertha altered his entire life, and even brought him to be the tortured resident of Thornfield Hall who is saved by the love of Jane Eyre.

Another member of the audience questioned Rochester's lack of class consciousness. At one point while an apprentice he tries to befriend a factory worker and is repelled. Sarah noted that in the 19th c, as too often is the case today, those in positions of power often used it for sexual favors. Rochester had to learn to respect class lines. Consequently, Sarah imagined he was careful in his situation as Jane's employer so as not to be seen as abusing his power over her.

Sarah read the opening paragraphs of her book, told first person in Rochester's voice. He tells he was raised by a "succession of nursemaids and governesses, who were sometimes bad and other times worse. It was years before I could think of a governess as anyone other than a presence that must be borne." And for those readers 'in the know' we understand the irony of this statement.

Read my review on Mr. Rochester at https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2017/05/mr-rochester-by-sarah-shoemaker.html

Reimagined Greek Tragedy: House of Names by Colm Toibin

In House of Names, Colm Toibin, author of Brooklyn and Nora Webster, retells the ancient Greek story of one of the most brutal and murderous families ever imagined. Blood is paid with blood: a wife murders her husband, a parent sacrifices his daughter, children murder their parents.

Tobin's his beautiful, clear writing allows four central characters to speak for themselves.

Clytemnestra was claimed by hero Agamemnon when he slew her husband. She has born him daughters Iphigenia and Electra and son Orestes.

Agamemnon's brother's wife Helen has been kidnapped. They plan to attack the Trojans and bring her back. But the gods have prevented them from setting sail. Agamemnon asks Clytemnestra prepare Iphigenia for marriage; in reality, he sacrifices her to the gods, an expiation for his sin, so the soldiers at last may go to war.

Betrayed by Agamemnon, Clytemnestra and plots her revenge with help from Aegisthus. When Agamemnon returns with war trophy Cassandra, his wife welcomes him home, then slits his throat. She has arranged to have Orestes and other boys taken to 'safety.'

Orestes relates his story of exile and return only to learn his mother had murdered his father.

Electra learns her mother murdered her father and plots her revenge. Upon her brother's return, she instructs him to commit matricide.

Leander, who was Orestes friend in exile, has discovered Clytemnestra murdered his entire family, and he raises an army.

The novel has wonderful characterization. I was compelled to continue reading. But I was left wondering, why? Why bring this story, now, to a new generation? What can we learn?

Obviously, it is a revenge story, on the human level and on behalf of the gods. Agamemnon is part of the cursed House of Atreus. Here is how it started:

Zeus' son Tantalus murdered his own son Pelops to feed to the gods. The gods arranged to have Pelops brought back to life. Later Pelops and his house were cursed by a son of Hermes.

Pelops' children Atreus and Thyestes killed a half-brother and were banished. Atreus discovered that Thyestes was having an affair with his wife, so he murdered Thyestes's sons and dished them up in a stew to their father.

Atreus's children included Agamemnon  and Menelaus. Thyestes also had a son with his daughter, Aegisthus, and that son killed Atreus.

Agamemnon kills his daughter, his wife kills him, and their son, encouraged by their daughter, kills his mother.

You see a pattern here? Once you start murdering there is no end. One may see the story as a metaphor with unlimited applications.

I received a free ebook from the pubisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

House of Names
Colm Toibin
Scribner
Publication May 18, 2017

Rock Solid: Using Solid Colors

Thirty years ago Robert Kaufman Fabrics introduced Kona Cottons. Today there are over 300 colors to choose from! 

In my 26 years quilting, I have found solid fabrics to be essential to my stash. They have become even more essential with the rise of Modern quilting with its minimalist, graphic patterns and use of negative space.

Rock Solid: 13 Quilts Made with Kona Cottons is a visual feast of color, from monotone to analogous to complementary palettes. The patterns update traditional blocks to make amazingly simple quilts with the graphic punch of mid-century Modern art.

Here are a few of the thirteen quilts in the book.

 Lanterns designed and made by Christa Watson

Analogous brights pop against the Coal solid background. The pattern looks complex and yet is made from simple shapes. Christa added the warm yellow-green to cool down the warm colors. 

 Mosiac Gems designed and pieced by Cortney Heimerl

The Trip Around the World block in Mosiac Gems is one of my favorite treatments of a traditional block in this book. A very sophisticated use of color creates a 'column' effect. The gradation of background color from black to pale green creates luminosity. And secondary patterns appear. Because it is made only of squares it seems easy but requires careful construction to keep proper color order. 

 Tribal Beat designed and pieced by Angela Walters

This pattern knocks my socks off! I love the colors. I love the ethnic feel. With a tweak of color palette, it could read more Art Deco. The blocks are strip sets and half square triangles made into flying geese which set together become the diamond in a square.

8-Bit designed and pieced by Janice Zeller Ryan]

This quilt uses traditional Nine Patch and Courthouse Steps blocks but the feeling is anything but old fashioned! The complex pattern draws the eye across the design, resting briefly on the red centers of the border blocks before jumping back into the maze of the central design. The image is as complicated as a computer motherboard, but the blocks are actually not hard to piece. It is all in the color placement.

Zoomer designed and pieced by Elizabeth Dackson

Take one quilt block, blow it up, set it off center, and you have a very Modern quilt with great visual interest. Zoomer is an amazing example of asymmetry in design. In blue and blue greens the feeling is cool which tames the edginess of being off center. The pieces are still simple, half square triangles and rectangles. 

 A New Day designed and pieced by Megan Pitz

Make your own striped fabric from strip sets. Cut into triangles. I love this technique. The pyramids of stripped colors are set against alternating white and gray. Megan suggests starching the fabric before cutting.

Ragged Edges by Kristi Schroeder of Initial K Studio, quilted by Melisssa Eubanks

Ragged Edges is super-easy, constructed of half-square triangles and a few rectangles. The monotone color palette is both contemporary and edgy, but it is easy to imagine alternative color schemes. Indigo instead of gray for the background, with various blues for the design. Or black with an explosion of reds, yellows, and oranges? This patterns has enough movement to carry off the subtle color scheme, but could become a virtual lightning strike of color!

These quilts could be baffling to construct, but the instructions include lots of pictures to illustrate every step. The Color Palettes for each quilt is also included at the end. 

Rock Solid is a great collection of patterns showcasing solid fabrics.

To see the other quilts visit http://www.shopmartingale.com/rock-solid.html
To learn more about Kona Cottons visit
 http://www.robertkaufman.com/fabrics/kona_cotton/

I received a free ebook from the publisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

Apollo 8: The Thrilling Story of the First Mission to the Moon

I admit I was space crazy as a girl, and forty-nine years later I am still thrilled when reading about the time 'when dreams came true' and men first went into space.

Apollo 8: The Thrilling Story of the First Mission to the Moon by Jeffrey Kluger didn't disappoint. Although Apollo 8 doesn't have the inherent drama of the Apollo 13 mission, which Kluger and Lovett wrote about, the narrative is engrossing and riveting. 

NASA badly needed a success after the deaths of astronauts Grissom, White, and Chaffee in 1967 while testing Apollo 1. And so did an America entrenched in a spiraling war, enduring multiple assassinations, and experiencing civic unrest. Getting to the moon by 1970, as President Kennedy had challenged, seemed more unlikely than ever. Apollo 1 and the Saturn V rocket had both failed. The Vietnam war was draining our coffers and the space program was losing support.  NASA had to buckle down and recommit to excellence. 

Gemini 7 astronauts Borman and Lovell were slated to spend fourteen days in space as human 'lab rats'. Then came the idea of sending Gemini 6 up after launching Gemini 7, a joint mission that would allow the spacecraft to approach each other to prove that docking could be possible. 

It was just the huge success NASA, and the country needed. 

As I read about Borman and Lovell and Gemini 6 and 7 I  remembered my scrapbook with clippings and pages of articles.

Bill Mauldin on Apollo 8

I even made my own drawing.

My drawing of Gemini 6 and 7

Next up was Apollo 8, the second manned Apollo mission, which was to orbit the moon in December 1968, paving the way for Apollo 11 and a lunar landing. Anders, Borman, and Lovett had sixteen weeks to prepare. It was a crazy risk. 

It was so interesting to read about the astronaut's life in space: motion sickness, meals, personal needs, illness, accidents, boredom--and the wonder of being the first humans to see Earth wholly suspended in the infinite universe. "This must be what God sees," Borman thought when he saw Earth. 

The amazing astronaut's wives stories are also impressive, accepting the risks of their husband's career and keeping home and children 'normal' in spite of legions of news reporters surrounding their homes.

By the time of Apollo 8 my scrapbook days were over. But that mission had changed how my generation saw the world, spurring a new environmental awareness. Ander's photograph Earthrise was the first to impact Earthling's view of their place in the universe, a lesson we have sadly forgotten. This fragile, amazing planet is our home. 

Earthrise NASA

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

Read more about the Apollo program at

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo_program

Search for more photos from the Apollo programs at

https://www.nasa.gov/

Apollo 8: The Thrilling Story of the First Mission to the Moon

Jeffrey Kluger

Henry Holt & Co

Publication Date: May 16, 2017

$30 hardcover

ISBN:9781627798327

Manderley Forever by Tatiana De Rosnay

Several years ago my husband and I went to the Redford Theater in Detroit to see Rebecca on the big screen. The 1928 Japanese-themed theater has been restored by the Motor City Theater Organization, which bought the Redford for it's Barton organ. As usual, the theater seats were filled while the organ concert delighted the audience.

I had seen Hitchcock's Rebecca on television before I read the book. While an English major at Temple University in Philadelphia I attended several meetings of an English majors club, one time to share readings from favorite books. A young man read from Rebecca. It was the first time I had heard Daphne Du Maurier's writing and I put her on my TBR list and later read many of her novels.

So, there we were at this beautifully restored theater in the heart of a declining Detroit watching Rebecca on the big screen, listening to those famous opening words, "Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again." We were ready to be swept into the magic of story. The magic was soon lost. The audience laughed. They especially laughed at Mrs. Danvers. There was no pleasure in watching the film, for the laughter diminished the film to farce.

I am grateful that Tatiana De Rosnay's Manderley Forever: A Biography of Daphne De Maurier   restored and justified my original appreciation of Rebecca. De Rosnay has written a mesmerizing biography that also recreates Du Maurier's creative journey.

In 1937 Du Maurier followed her soldier husband 'Boy' Tommy Browning to Egypt, leaving their newborn and three-year-old child with family in England. She hated the army-wife parties, and the desert. She was homesick and thought about Menabilly, the empty manor house in Cornwall that she fell in love with at first sight. Images came to her. She reflected on her jealousy of Boy's first love, a sophisticated, high society beauty. She recalled the vision of a housekeeper's tall, black silhouette, and remembered seeing the shipwreck of the Romanie. She knew the book was to be called Rebecca, and that it would be about jealousy.

Du Maurier returned to Cornwall and spent three months writing her novel like a woman possessed. She sent it to her publisher with a note saying,  "Here is the book. I've tried to get an atmosphere of suspense. It's a bit on the gloomy side. The ending is a bit brief and a bit grim."

The novel's publication, of course, changed her life. Yet, she felt the novel was misunderstood. She did not write a corny romance!

Hitchcock bought the film rights; she hated his film version of her novel Jamaica Inn and was distraught. She wrote to David Selznick, begging that the character Rebecca never be portrayed on screen. She was thrilled that Laurence Olivier would be Max de Winter, but protested that Vivian Leigh was too beautiful to be the second Mrs. de Winter. Thankfully, it was Joan Fontaine who got the role and in the end the author loved the film--including Judith Anderson's portrayal of Mrs. Danvers. Hitchcock did alter Du Maurier's book: Mrs. Danvers in the author's mind was younger and was in love with the first Mrs. de Winters, and she was clear that Max had killed his wife in a jealous rage but was not punished for it.

"It makes me a little ashamed to admit it, but I do believe I love Mena more than people."-Daphne Du Maurier

In 1943, a now wealthy Du Maurier had no love of fashion or high living or art. What she wanted was Menabilly. It was literally falling down, without any modern conveniences. She would have to renovate it with her own funds. Yet she rented the house for twenty years. And so began her love affair with Mena.

I understand how she fell in love with a house, a place with a history that could be read in its every beam and stone. Du Maurier became interested in history, including her own family history, and extensively researched while preparing for her novels.

Manderley Forever brings alive a complicated author in context of her family history, her personal and creative growth, and literary place. I enjoyed the book immensely.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.


Manderley Forever
Tatiana De Rosnay
St Martin's Press
$27 hard cover
Publication Date May 18, 2017
ISBN: 9781250099136

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