Personal History - And Then Another Blessing from Heaven - A Girl!

What was the story around the second child?

We got pregnant when our first son was a little over a year old. We decided to move into a home with this little Indian family named the Singhs...a little family in a huge house, and they rented the basement apartment to us. It was much more affordable than the apartment we had been living in, but as soon as I moved in, the smell of the curry that permeated the house made me nauseous for a time. Still, it was a peaceful place to live, and we were grateful to have it.

I was still working from home for the National Restaurant Association in Washington, DC, but our insurance coverage changed. We couldn't use the midwife center in Bethesda anymore, like we did with our first birth. This time, it would have to be in a hospital.

I prepared for this birth like I was preparing for war. Our doula/childbirth teacher helped us put together a birth plan for the hospital. We tried to think of every contingency, and what to do under every circumstance. We still had a midwife for care, but this time she worked under an obstetrician, who was going to be in charge, and I felt very threatened at the prospect that this birth wouldn't go like I hoped.

As soon as the contractions started, I took some castor oil in orange juice. Nasty stuff, but we'd been told it would speed labor along, and that's what we wanted.

We went to the hospital, and I got dressed in those gross hospital gowns...and we waited. The doctor came in for an examination, and said we were only an inch or two dilated. Breathing a warning, mostly to himself, that I would be induced if I didn't make progress, he left.

And then Sam and I went to work.

Mostly we walked around the silent hospital floor. It freaked me out - the thought that all these laboring women, and no one was making noise. The nurses laughed at me a little, oh look at that, that's cute, that pregnant lady going for a walk. I was the only one.

To my mind, it was not cute. This baby was coming out, and it was coming out today, without pitocin!

Between the walking and the castor oil, my labor sped up significantly, to the point where I couldn't walk anymore. I managed to get back to the bed, and I held onto a bar over my head and squatted, so gravity could help me. The nurses didn't know what I was doing, but they humored me. They liked my birth plan, thought it was cute, and then did what they wanted.

Eventually it worked, and the OB who was threatening me with labor induction I didn't want never came back. My oldest girl was born about 6pm, again, after about six hours of labor.

Pam was a champion, protecting me from too many interventions from the hospital staff and reminding them of our birth plan when I couldn't speak, and Sam again made a great and supportive coach. She was a beautiful baby, blond and pink this time, and I loved her right away. The nurses marveled, saying they'd never seen a women give birth without medication before (which set all of us on edge, while we smiled and laughed outwardly).

At some point, I don't remember when it happened...I think it was while I took a shower (showers after birth still remain a highlight of life for me), but the baby went away.  We asked where the baby was, and Pam told us the nurses took her down to the nursery and gave her a bottle of formula and put her under a heat lamp.

This was almost exactly NOT what we wanted to have happen. I realize they thought we wanted a rest, but I wanted my kid. Sam was furious, and we got our heads together with Pam about what to do - these sorts of things had to be done delicately, since hospitals are very political places.

I got in a wheelchair, even though I didn't need one (hospital rules) and we went down to the nursery to look at my baby. I wasn't allowed to hold her, I could only touch her with my hand. Sam went to the nurses and asked about how we go about getting released, which ruffled some feathers. They wanted to keep us both for days, but we were determined to get out of there as soon as possible. After signing a stack of release papers an inch thick, and promising the hospital we wouldn't sue them if anything went wrong, we got our baby and got out of there.

When I got home, something did go wrong about a day later. I started cramping in a way I couldn't relax through, like I'd been trained to do with my labor contractions in our birth class. We went to the emergency room, and it turned out I'd come down with 'childbirth fever' - something that could have killed me if I'd been living in the age before antibiotics. The doctor said it was from a nosocomial infection - from a bacteria I could only get IN a hospital. I took a round of antibiotics, and it went away.

I went home, simultaneously grateful for modern medicine, and newly determined to avoid it again at every opportunity I could.



Where did her name come from? 

We named our girl Aubrey, from the song by 60's group Bread. Sam had listened to it as a kid, and really loved it:

Her middle name was Anatalia, to honor my mother. Anatalia is also her middle name.

Personal History - First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then...

How did you find out you were going to be a parent for the first time?

Since we married so quickly (only after getting together for two months), we decided to take a couple of years to practice being a couple before we became parents.

While it was nice to have so much alone time with my new hubby, that was also a really challenging time for me though, because as soon as we were married, something switched over in my brain, and I wanted children. Not like 'It sure would be nice to have kids' wanting kids, but 'omgosh but I'm gonna die if I don't have children!' wanting kids.

I felt like I could sense how badly they wanted to be born...like they were knocking on my head saying, 'C'mon Mom! We're here! What's the holdup?'

Since I was using Depo Provera at the time (and HATED every second of it - the hip shots, the weight gain, everything), we stopped using it about six months before our honeymoon to let the hormones work their way out of my system.

After the honeymoon, guess what? Our first baby was on the way. My period stopped (which it never does), and we took the test and voila!

How many children did you have all together?

We have four loverly children in total.

Who was the first, and what was the birth story?

My oldest son was born in December 1995. I started into labor with him in the car, waiting for Sam to get some money to go get some Taco Bell food for dinner. All of a sudden, sitting became impossible. I spent the whole time at Taco Bell in the bathroom, and then we ate dinner, and then I spent more time in the bathroom.

Then we called the Micky the midwife (we were planning on giving birth at a freestanding birth center instead of the hospital, since I generally hate hospitals) and told her the contractions were five minutes apart. She sounded unsure, but told us to come in and we'd get checked out.

We called our childbirth teacher Pam, who'd also agreed to act as a doula for us, and she said she would meet us there. This was about 9PM. My mother drove us in her work van, with me hanging over the back of the seat somehow wrapped in a seatbelt, since I couldn't sit, sipping Coke for energy. When we got inside, I couldn't go up the stairs to the labor room, because of my labor (ironically).

When I got up there between contractions, Micky examined me and I was seven inches dilated - almost ready to push. I went to the bathroom - and promptly vomited on the wall and my husband. My body did NOT want Taco Bell at that moment. Too much going on. It was an embarrassing mess, but I couldn't help clean it up. The contractions were coming faster.

After another hour or so, we had a baby boy at 2AM! My first baby was a speedster - beginning to end, he clocked in at only five hours of labor. He was purple and hairy and squalling - not a happy camper. He also barely looked human - I almost didn't know what to do with him, not being a very maternal person by nature. But my mother and everyone said how cute he was. Snowflakes started drifting down right after he was born. We named him David, after his father's middle name, and MackinTosh after the Scottish side of our family (NOT the apple).

We slept for a few hours, and then woke to a full-blown snowstorm that turned out to be one of those epic, once every ten years kind of storms. We barely got the baby home before we were totally snowed in, but we were happy. Sam made us an igloo in the front yard.

I dutifully took care of him for a little while, but I didn't feel much for him at first. He was just this weird little lumpy baby that somehow came out of me and I survived it, and there were some many details and doctors that I couldn't think much about it after that.

After two days, I looked down at this adorable little baby boy sleeping in his crib, and my mother bear switched on. I would give my life for this kid. I would kill for him if I had to, and in my dreams, I did, over and over again. From that point on, I was a mommy. Love that oxytocin.

And I couldn't stand the thought of Taco Bell food for at least two years after that.


That close relationship has continued over the years, particularly with this one. Very close. We both share the same introversion, the same faith, even some of the same talents. We're both writers, and we collaborate together sometimes. If he had his choice, he would buy the house next door to us and raise his own family right there. Whether or not he'll get that opportunity remains to be seen, but even if he doesn't, I still love him to pieces, just like I did back then.

Personal History - Twenty-Five Years Later...

How long have you been or were you married?

This last February, as of this writing, we've been married for over 25 years.

How would you describe your spouse?

Before we married, he was romantic and prided himself on being a man who understood women 'because he was trained well by his sisters.' Well, that worked just about as well as being a girl raised with a gaggle of brothers...as in, it didn't.

Twenty-five years later, neither one of us really deeply understands the other.  But we know that, and we work with it. He's free to be him, and I'm free to be me, and we're better at respecting each other's ways of doing things.

He's 5 feet 6 inches tall - the same height as Tom Cruise. I'm four inches taller, so I don't wear heels. (Never really liked them anyway). He still has that megawatt smile I fell in love with the first time I saw him, and now he's got smile lines to go with it.

He's strong and muscular, so I never feel like I'm his mother physically, like I did when I dated those skinny guys I used to date.

He has dark brown hair and light brown eyes, tan like a deer. He used to slick back his hair, but now he cuts it short and it springs up all over his head like the hair on a tennis ball.

He's worn glasses since he was young - I can't remember if he's nearsighted or farsighted. He's always wanted to have laser surgery to get rid of wearing glasses or contacts, but he didn't have the right kind of eye problem to do that.

What do you admire most about him? 

What I learned over 25 years was that he carried the psychic consequences of the abuse and neglect he suffered as a kid and as a young person. I didn't see it immediately or realize how bad it was, but it unfolded over time in a very surprising way. That abuse and neglect has been a large factor in the dysfunction of his brothers and sisters and their families. He himself has some pretty hair-raising stories he can tell, and he's had his own demons to wrestle with over the years as a result.

One of the things I admire most about him was how he never allowed those experiences to define him. He threw himself into the gospel, and never let go, no matter how difficult things got.

Now he uses those past experiences to help others overcome the same challenges he had. For the past eight years now, he's written a blog to teach married members of our church how to be married and live the gospel the best they can - it doesn't come easily.  He gets a lot of satisfaction in being able to help others and feeling useful.

He's pretty much the smartest man I've ever met, and that's saying something - I've met a lot of really smart men. He sees nuances and perspectives I've never even considered, and I've learned a lot from him over the years.

I have always appreciated the pleasures of affable, charming men, and Sam is more than just my Prince Charming…he is the King of Charming-land.

The day I first saw him, he was a missionary for our church, making a roomful of ladies giggle with his ear-to-ear grin. I was captured from that very first day.

Since then, I’ve seen him work his magic on all sorts…waiters and waitresses, Wal-Mart checkout staff, stern authority figures, car salesmen, babies, co-workers, toll booth operators. He can do it even when he can’t speak the language. He wields Disney princess power, and even charms dogs, cats and birds.

It doesn’t always work, of course, but when it does, it’s amazing to watch. And he gives me flowers every week when we go grocery shopping. Usually I put them back, but I appreciate the thought.

He's brave and compassionate. He sees things I just don't see - needs in other people I totally miss. He's forbidden to go to the animal shelter anymore, because he keeps wanting to bring animals home. He brings home stray animals and tries to take care of them. He even tried to do CPR on a dog that was dying, to try and save it (it didn't work, but it was pretty daring to try).

He's largely self-taught, and an amazing student in his classes when he takes a class. I read fast, and he reads really slow...but he never forgets something when he reads it. It becomes part of him.

He can build things, fix things, bake and cook things. Amazing things - our holiday celebrations have been epic over the years. He works really hard at being a good husband and father, and he's still improving.

But he's pretty great now too. :-)

Personal History - My Future Husband, The Conclusion

Do you remember where you went on the first date with your spouse?

When I moved to Washington State, my mother called the mission home and asked for the address for Elder Zaragoza...sneaky mother!

(Actually, I asked her to. Full disclosure.)

I wrote him a friendly, chatty letter, knowing full well that letters are catnip to missionaries - they loved to get them, especially in the days before email was available.

He wrote a very enthusiastic response, and followed up with a picture of a doll in a wedding dress and a picture of a wedding ring - even though he said he had no expectations between us, there was no doubt what he wanted.

We kept writing every week, for the next six months, which were the last six months of his mission. I sent him a bouquet of cookie flowers, and he sent me back a picture of him opening them up, with his big mega-watt grin. The mail lady at my work loved to hear about each letter - she looked forward to them even more than I did.

I think I almost broke up with him once, but the letter he wrote back after I told him we needed some space was so sweet I got back together with him.

When he got home from his mission, we arranged to spend Christmas together at his family's house in Manteca, CA. Our official first real date. He picked me up from the airport, and by the time we got to his parents' car, he was doing Three Stooges impersonations, and I was wondering what I'd gotten myself in for. But I met his family, and they all seemed very nice and accommodating.

I spoke at his mission return at church, when he spoke (still not quite sure how that happened, but it did).

He took me to a gazebo in the center of town, and read me a poem he'd written for the occasion, and officially proposed to me there. I'd already told him I would say yes when he asked me, so it was a pretty done deal by that point. Had our first kiss that night.

When I went back home, he gathered all his stuff, and all of his great-aunt's stuff (she had just passed away, and that was our first furniture for our apartment). Then he drove it all up to Washington State in the middle of a storm that neared hurricane-level winds. He said there were a couple of times when he thought the bolts on his truck would come off, and all our stuff would go down an icy ravine.

He looked pretty tired and worn-out when he got there, but he got into our new apartment and everything was fine from that point on.

How long did you know him/her before you got married?

From the moment I first laid eyes on him, to the moment we were married, was probably less than two years. Maybe less than a year.

We dated by mail for six months, got engaged as soon as he got off his mission, and were married two months later.


Where and when did you get married? (Include date, place, church, etc.)

We were married in the Seattle Washington temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, on Saturday, February 13, 1993 (or was it 1992? I can never remember). Sam really wanted to get married in the Washington DC temple, where he served his mission, but our finances wouldn't allow for a long trip like that, and I didn't care which temple it was in.

Describe your wedding ceremony. 

It was a lovely day - I showed up for my wedding in my favorite long blue dress, with Sam's letterman sweater that he brought up from his home in California. His sister Dede was our chaperone, riding up with us to make sure we made it there safely.

When we got there, there was a little preparation to do first. Sam had already been through the temple, having served a mission, but I hadn't yet. So I had to go through the preparatory ordinances that Church members go through in order to get sealed (our word for 'married').

I wasn't sure what to expect, since I'd never heard anyone talk about what happens in the temple. Some parts are especially sacred, and we don't talk about those outside the temple (although there's nothing there that can't be found on YouTube, probably).

We dressed in all white clothing, and got started. The first part I went through is called the initiatory, which consists of a lot of blessings and promises for being faithful to the Lord and keeping the promises we make in the temple. I thought it was really lovely and nurturing myself. My mom was with me as my guide, so it never felt scary or weird, and I always knew what to do next.

The second part of the preparation we call the endowment, which consists in making more promises and learning about the Lord's plan for his children. Again, I can't say much specifics here, but my first endowment (I've done many since that day, in proxy for other people who have passed on) really blew my mind. It was a lot of information, and really an amazing experience.

I think Sam was a little disappointed that I wasn't looking over at him more often (we were in love, after all, and he loves flirting), but I was completely engulfed in the experience of the endowment. It was enriching and strengthening and wonderful, and an experience like none I'd ever known before.

After that, the temple workers took us to the main sealing room. Our family members who came out were there - my mom, my brother and his very pregnant wife, and Sam's sister Dede. Some of our friends from the singles ward were there, as well as our bishop, and it was great to see them.

The whole sealing ceremony is very simple - takes just a couple of minutes - so the sealer took some time to talk about marriage and give us some well-meaning advice, none of which I remember to this day. I was too nervous about what was happening and what it all meant, and too full of everything else I'd just learned.

When the sealer declared us husband and wife, Sam's eyes got super wide, which made me laugh. He told me later that he felt like he'd woken from a dream he'd had since he was a little boy - he'd wanted to get married since he was five years old. Then he kissed me so hard I thought I might have broken a tooth.

And that was it. We were married.

Did you have a honeymoon? Where did you go?

If it had been up to me, we would have gone right to the Best Western and stayed there the whole weekend. That was our honeymoon, because I had to be back at work on Monday, since I didn't have vacation time to spare.

But Sam wanted a wedding reception, so we went over to the church after getting settled in at the hotel.

It was terrible. I'd tried to plan this party, and nearly went mad doing it. My friend Jen and her mom graciously stepped in, and saved it from utter disgustingness, but there's not much you can do with $300, which was our reception budget.

We got a free room at our church, a smaller side room, since we weren't inviting many people. A Wal-Mart sheet cake, with a little bride and groom on it. Some red fruit punch. Sam and I were dressed in blue and white sweats, since I couldn't afford a wedding dress and our 'theme' was eloping, and I immediately regretted doing that as soon as we walked in. Jen had put together a giant lacy heart, where we stood to receive guests.

I still didn't socialize very well back then, so it was this whole room of people standing in line with their cake and punch, no one knowing anyone, and staring at us. The worst possible situation for a monster introvert like me.

My gosh, and then we sang. I think I was Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Love Changes Everything". A total cringe-fest.

Still, I pretended to have a good time, since it would have been awful to do anything else. Everyone brought some nice presents. Someone took pictures, and I still can't look at them, decades later, without cringing.

So that's what I'll tell my girls - always spring at least for the dress, and a makeover. You've got to look at those pictures someday.

So then we went back to the hotel and left my mom and sister-in-law to clean up (bless them!) And I was back to work on Monday.

Sam promised that we'd have a real honeymoon, and we did - two years later, we went to Colonial Williamsburg and Busch Gardens for a week, and I have much better memories of that trip. :-)

Personal History - A Couple of Miracles, and My Future Husband

When, where and how did you first meet your present spouse?

I spent a lot of time moving out of my parents' house and moving back in in my early 20s - did it at least three times.

Building Myself Back Up

The last time it happened, I was not only unemployed and deeply in financial debt to credit cards for some unwise purchases, but I got a good-sized case of shingles out of it, around one side of my back, and I couldn't even get out of bed for awhile. Felt pretty sorry for myself there.

This same period coincided with a lot of intense soul-searching and reading. I had a lot of questions I needed to get answered, and no answers were coming. I felt really stuck.


My parents and my siblings kept their patience with me during this time, and I know it must have been hard for them. I came to the decision that my three-year experiment in agnosticism had failed. I was absolutely miserable without religion and faith, and I needed to do something about it, but wasn't sure what.

My parents and my younger brother Peter in particular kept inviting me to come back to church (he was preparing to serve a mission, so I was convenient target practice for him), but I didn't feel right about that yet. I couldn't in good conscience affiliate with a faith I wasn't sure I believed in, so I keep spinning my wheels for several more weeks, although I prayed intently and read as much scripture as I could, still looking for my answers.

And then...Miracle #1

Later on, my mother needed to take my little brother and another boy from our congregation to a missionary training meeting, and she asked me if I would come along and keep her company. I didn't have anything better to do, and felt like it was a pretty low-risk situation (no one would be preaching anything at me - just to the missionaries themselves) so I agreed.

We sat out in the common area of the Church building while the two boys went into an adjacent classroom. Their trainer was from Texas, Brother Gere, a man with a booming voice. I might as well have been in the classroom with them...I could hear every word he said.

My mother fell asleep on the couch next to me, somehow, with that booming voice, and I just sat there and listened to this man telling the boys how he felt about the gospel and how he knew that God lived and loves all his children, thinking to myself, I really wish I could believe all this...

At that point, I had a sort of transcendent experience. Suddenly, someone else was there with us on the couch. Someone I couldn't see, and I felt a feeling of unbelievable love like I'd never experienced before. I felt arms around me, this hug that I never wanted to end.

At some point, that feeling faded out, and I knew then what I had to do. The answers I'd been looking for had been answered.

Starting Over

So I started back to church again, and applied to get my membership back. I had some work to do...had to sort of prove myself to the leadership that I could live the way I was supposed to live. It was challenging and embarrassing to sit and refuse the sacrament ordinance for awhile, and not be allowed to say prayers or teach classes or speak in our main meetings, but I was determined to get back what I'd given up. Whatever it took.

A Surprise

One day, I was sitting with my mother (who was thrilled at my change of heart) in the weekly women's meeting, and a young man came in. One of the ward's missionaries - they change out pretty frequently, so this one was new. His dark hair was slicked back, and contrasted with his pale skin. He had brown eyes and a big gorgeous smile, and wore a long wool coat over his suit against the cold weather outside.

He went right to the front of the room (also unusual for missionaries, who usually avoid spending time in the women's meetings or drop their eyes, like they feel like they don't belong there). He held up the calendar for the sisters to sign up to feed the missionaries, and he made the simple request.

"Sisters, please remember to feed the missionaries." Again, with this megawatt flirty grin. The sisters all laughed...it was so funny how he said it. I was totally smitten in a moment, and I turned to Mom and asked her to sign the calendar, which she did, with a smile. No fooling her what was going on. She knew me too well by then.

My mother knew, and my little sister knew. The elders came over to our house several times over the next few months, partly because my mother fed them, and partly because they were helping my brother prepare for his mission and trying to connect with my father, who also stayed away from church at this time.

When they came over, I usually left the room, or avoided them entirely. Not because I didn't like them, but because I liked Elder Zaragoza a little too much, and getting involved with a missionary would not be appropriate for a girl trying to get back in with the Lord's good graces.

He didn't notice me much at all...I found out later on from the journals he kept that the only thing he ever thought about me was that I was 'too tall' - I stood about four inches taller than him. He was focused totally on his missionary work, which was right, and I didn't want to distract him from that...as much as I DID want to.

My little sister would go up to him, and then run back to me and lord it over me. She was 11, and she thought a crush on a missionary was so funny. Elder Zaragoza actually thought my little sister was the one with the crush on him, because she would flirt with him in her little-girl way, but he didn't know she was only doing it to get to me.

And then...Miracle #2...

Eventually, he and his companion came over to say goodbye. Elder Zaragoza was going to be transferred out of our area to work somewhere else, as happened with all missionaries eventually.

While he was in the kitchen, saying goodbye to my mother and other family members, I sat on the stairs, looking at his back, feeling kind of sorry for myself. Because of the mistakes I made, I felt so damaged, and Elder Zaragoza seemed like such a great guy. Would I ever get to marry someone like that?

Again, a very similar feeling to the feeling that brought me back to church came over me, and the thought clearly crossed my mind as if someone else whispered in my ear.

"That's him."

I was bowled over, and left the spot I was standing on. I told my mother later that day that I felt pretty sure I was going to marry Elder Zaragoza, and she looked at me strangely, and said, "Why? If you do that, you'll have kids with short fingers and toes!"

It was the weirdest thing she could have possibly said to me, like I cared that he was short. We laughed about it though. Truth be told, she favored his companion better than him.

It was shortly after that that my brother Michael and his wife Christy invited me to come live with them in Washington State and help them take care of their new baby Lora, while I looked for work and a place to live. I really needed to get out of the area, so I agreed.

And he was gone, and I was gone...but the story didn't end there....

Personal History - When Introverts Date...

How old were you when you started dating?

In my faith, children are encouraged to wait until age 16 before double-dating and until age 18 before dating with only one person, adjusting this guideline to whatever culture you come from. Some wait until later.

But that's the minimum age. We're not supposed to adjust it downward.

Which I did.

And I regretted it later, as I usually do when I try to make such adjustments.

Do you remember your first date? Could you tell me something about it?


Even though I grew up with brothers my whole life, I couldn't talk to boys. Not when I liked them. I just couldn't relate to them like THAT. My brothers could never really teach me those sorts of refinements. Not without breaking incest laws.

But I had crushes on guys all the time, from a very early age.

First there was Troy, in kindergarten. He came to my fifth birthday party. Had a long, straight bowl cut and a very nice smile for a five-year-old.

Then it was John Schneider, from the Dukes of Hazzard. I gave up my very unrealistic dream of becoming a prima ballerina for the even more unrealistic dream of someday becoming John Schneider's girlfriend, which I thought about every time I watched that show.

Then it was my Uncle Tommy, who came to visit us sometimes. He had a Jeep, and bought us ice cream. But he was kin, and almost as old as my dad, so no go there.

Later on, there was Jason Cowderey, a red-haired, freckle-faced dream of a guy (maybe 9 or 10) who didn't know I existed, and who lived down the street from me.

After that, it gets fuzzy, because there were so many of them...a parade of imaginary boyfriends that never seemed to end. When one left, another ten took his place. A lot of them were actors or singers. Even one or two (or probably three) cartoon characters that I can remember.

I watched many of my friends go on dates, starting at age 12 when I became conscious of such activity going on, and I desperately wanted to date, while at the same time being desperately terrified of the male sex.

Johnny Larson, in eighth grade, ALMOST became my boyfriend. But he found out I liked him, about three days before he moved. And then I found out he liked me. And then...gone.

I had an unofficial first date, and a real first date. The former happened around age 15. The latter, at 16.

The 'Unofficial' First Date

My family moved to Maryland in the summer of 1985, and we stayed for a time in a KOA campground in Upper Marlboro, MD, while my father looked for work. Fortunately, it was summer, so we just looked like we were vacationing, instead of indigent and desperate.

Literally nothing to do but swim and read and wander around the campground. I spent a lot of time swimming...got great arms, and a major crush on the lifeguard, a tanned, blonde, curly-haired 21-year-old named Mack. He liked me too...until he learned I was 15, which was fair. Since he was a good guy, nothing happened.

But a few weeks into our encampment, there was this other guy, who was 16, a much more manageable age. I can't remember his name anymore, for the life of me, but somehow we got together, mostly at the pool. He was easy to talk to, which was a big deal for me. I didn't crush on him really, but he was attractive enough to make a little baby relationship work.

He told me he did mountain biking and cycling, and I believed him. The guy had huge thigh muscles - almost too big for his body. But he was really sweet. I met him at the playground near the pool one evening, and we talked for a bit. He gave me a friendship bracelet, and then he and his family left the next day.

I still have that bracelet.

The "Official" First Date

When we finally got out of that mess, got my father employed and settled down in Bowie, MD, I started high school at Bowie High School.

It was my first year in drama class, and I auditioned and got a part in a one-act play for the school's annual One-Act Festival. My director was a guy named Mike Chamberlin. He was really nerdy and gawky, a senior, and I was a junior that year.

Anyway, he had us take cast photos, and mine turned out really good. Like, super-good. It was probably the best picture I'd ever taken in my life. And he noticed and started warming up to me. I thought he was funny and weird, which is the kind of guy I usually like. After the festival was over, he asked me out, and I accepted.

I'd just turned sixteen, so my family had no objections, even though I technically wasn't supposed to single-date until 18. Everyone was just happy I had a date, including me. I liked Mike - he was funny, and he liked me, and that was good enough for now.

My brothers teased me, that they would bring out their hunting knives and finger them while he waited for me to get ready. I told them I would beat them to little pulps if they did that. Well, Mike showed up for our date, and my brothers didn't  bring their knives, but they did sit on the stairs and glare at him, which made him really nervous. Ugh...we left quickly.

Mike took me to the community college to see a play, called 'Man for All Seasons', where his friend who graduated high school the year before was playing the Every-man (narrator) part. Paul Gallagher.

Well, we arrived, and we watched the play. Had a good time.

What I didn't tell Mike was that, within the space of that play, I'd developed a monster crush on his friend, Paul. It was a talent crush - I've always admired competence in a man, in whatever field he was doing, and that's what this was. Paul was a really talented actor, and I fell hard. I went to see the play myself, alone, and his next play, 'Romeo and Juliet', a couple of times. Found out where he lived, and walked by there frequently in the hopes of seeing him.

Embarrassing, but yes...I obsession-stalked him. Always from a distance. I didn't try to kill his cat or anything like that.

Mike and I had one more date after that, I think, and then that was it. He wanted to take our relationship further, but I wasn't interested in or ready for that, and I knew it. He didn't take the news well, but it truly wasn't his fault. It was me.

And doesn't every girl say that? But in this case, absolutely true.

We managed to somehow stay sort-of friends, although we didn't keep in touch after high school. Last I heard, Mike was directing Off-Broadway plays, and I was very happy to hear it. He won Best Director for the one-act he directed me in in high school, and he deserved it.

As a side note, I actually did end up going out on a date with Paul Gallagher later on. Just one date though...nothing came of that either.

C'est la vie!

Personal History - Figuring Out This Whole 'Work' Thing

What was your first job? 

I got a job at Baskin-Robbins in Las Vegas when I was 14 years old. The ice cream scooping sprained my wrist in the first week, and I wore a brace when I worked to be able to stand the pain of it.

I lost my job a week later, when they found out I was fourteen, and wearing a brace I shouldn't have been wearing because it was un-hygenic. Couldn't blame them on either count, and I was glad to go.



 How did you decide on a career?

I followed my nose, and followed my skills, though it wasn't really what I wanted to do. But anytime I sat down to 'plan my career', it inevitably fell apart.

I also eliminated those jobs I did that I didn't like, which included housekeeper, restaurant work and almost all forms of blue collar jobs. I found myself completely unsuited for them, which seemed strange.

It wasn't that I wasn't willing, or able, to do the work. The problem was in my difficulty in being able to connect with and communicate with the people, which I've never really understood. I would inadvertently offend them somehow, and not understand why.

I rarely had the same result in white-collar jobs, and whenever I did, it seemed to always happen with people from a blue-collar-type background. Weird.



 What jobs have you had?

I worked with my mom as a housekeeper while in high school, mostly during the summers. Nope - wasn't going to keep that going. McDonald's wasn't my life's ambition either.

While in New York City, I worked as a cashier at the Carnegie Deli. While I enjoyed the atmosphere very much (loved walking to work and meeting celebrities - best encounter was ringing up Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne), and most of my co-workers (the ones that weren't hitting on me), I wasn't good at making the register balance, and it upset my white, round, pasty-faced manager very much. Princess, a Jamaican lady cashier with fake fingernails as long as my fingers, was a whiz at it, but I could never do it myself.

After that, I did shift work cutting photos for a photo shop, which only lasted about three weeks because I was terrified of the photo chopping machine, which was like a little guillotine that cut hundreds of photos at once with a loud (CHUNK!) noise. Afraid of being too tired to remember to remove my arm from the machine one day and (CHUNK!).

Then I tried to get a job as a 'hostess' at a black box Asian nightclub...until I realized what 'hostess' actually meant. Then I quit school and came home.

After New York, I changed direction. I had learned to type pretty fast in high school and enjoyed that (it was the only class where I could make all the noise I wanted), and used that to start a series of receptionist and secretarial jobs.

I worked for Prudential Realty, and then I worked with my mom at the National Petroleum Refiners Association. It was with them where I first saw Texas, at the convention my company held in San Antonio. My mother got obsessed with Texas. Me, not so much. Then I worked a bunch of temp jobs...temp work was plentiful in DC in those days.

I moved to Washington State, where temp work was nonexistent, so I found a couple other receptionist jobs. Married, and really started hating receptionist work.

Moved back in with my mom and got work with the National Restaurant Association updating their member records - saved my life. My mom, and the job. When I had my first son, I continued working from home for them until I got pregnant with my last baby. Had to quit that, even though I didn't want to - I was running out of arms to hold babies and type at the same time. Oh yeah...and 9/11 killed the convention industry for awhile (no one wanted to fly).

When I came to Texas, I worked part-time in order to stay close to my babies. I wrote articles online for some extra money, and loved it, but couldn't live on it. Worked as a lunch aide in the public schools, which wasn't too bad, and as a lunch lady in a high school, which was very, very badly. (When my boss started saying things like, 'That was strike one...that was strike two...I promptly quit.)

Also worked a local buffet restaurant, where I found lots of colorful characters that ended up in the novel I was writing at the time to procrastinate my college homework.

After I graduated, I got a job at a local university working in the records department, and never looked back. A huge improvement for me over past jobs. Still working there today.

 Did you make enough money to live comfortably?

Only when I was single, and not even then, really. I never made enough money to live in my own place, and I really hated having roommates.

My husband and I together make just enough to keep ourselves comfortable (mostly comfortable, with a lot of careful spending). Grateful to be here now, and excited about future projects and their potential.


 How long did you have to work each day at your job?

 
Most jobs I held were from 8:30 to 5 or so, plus the commute from the city to whatever bedroom community I lived in, so I worked most of the day, in most of my jobs.

It was this factor that made it really important to at least find a job I could tolerate. It's one thing to make lots of money - quite another to spend your life on a job you hate. Time is the most valuable currency there is, and it's important to spend it well.

Personal History - Show Me The...Fulfillment!

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Ballerina

The earliest profession I can ever remember wanting to involve myself in was, of course, ballet. What little girl doesn't? I grew up watching the Nutcracker with Mikhail Baryshnikov and running around my house imitating Gelsey Kirkland at Christmas.

I didn't know until my mother somehow managed to get me into ballet class (at age 8 or 9 - much too old for professional training) how very crushing and boring the practice really was, plus the rotten feet, plus the intense financial dependency and political environment professional dancers live in, all of which were very wrong for me as a person.

So that idea died out, as soon as I realized I would have to give up watching the Dukes of Hazzard to continue classes, my choice was made. Walked away and (hardly ever) looked back.


Phone Operator

This was my second choice, made around second grade or so. I never lived during the era of phones you could pick up and there was a person there, but we had rotary phones when I was a kid, and you could dial '0' and get an operator who would help you find a phone number.

I wanted to be the person on the other end of the phone.

This ambition I actually did reach (in some respects) when I graduated from high school and got my first job as a receptionist. I learned that I like having the freedom to get up and go to the bathroom whenever I wanted, instead of being tied to a telephone all day long. So that ambition didn't work out too well.

Even if I HAD become a phone operator, who ever calls the operator anymore?

Gymnast

This was close to ballerina. I also grew up in the era of Nadia Comeneci and Olga Korbut, and I dreamed of Bela Karoly discovering me and training me into a fierce little gymnastics machine.

Fast forward decades later, where now Bela Karoly and his wife are just inches away in association from the doctor that molested all those gymnasts for 20 years, and yeah...pretty happy that one never happened.

Actress

This one seemed doable, and it was the first thing I found I could do well, other than writing. I did well in high school, and took off for New York as soon as I was able (i.e. right after high school)


In New York, I learned just how many people had the same idea I had, who were waiting tables while waiting for their next big audition (something I was also particularly unsuitable at doing...I left my one and only waitress job after one day...count 'em...one).

I enjoyed acting, somewhat. Gradually I noticed that the roles available to me...well, sucked. I wasn't cute or small enough to be the ingenue, so I ended up in mom and best friend roles. No one ever kissed the mom, or the best friend.

Also, the intense feelings I felt out on stage weren't due to excitement, but to revulsion at the thought of a bunch of strangers staring at me being awkward.

So that's no problem...go into film acting, right? No one's staring at you, right?

Wrong. The camera is staring. The crew is staring. And the camera didn't love me. It made me look like an animated Picasso painting.

Eventually, sadly, I waved goodbye to acting. My last role was with my husband, in a local community theater production of something I can't even remember now, only months before my first child was born. And that was the end of that.


Anything That Made Money/Business Owner

I got fairly desperate when my children started coming. I wanted to be home with them so much, but because of our education level and our situation, we were underemployed most of the time, and I didn't have the choice to stay home.

That was...until, my employer offered me a home connection to keep doing my current job from home.

This was in 1995, when a few people talked about the possibility of it, but I didn't know anyone personally who did it. But I was determined, and somehow we made it work for seven years.

And then 9/11 happened.

Actually, even if Osama Bin Laden hadn't come along, I couldn't have continued much longer anyway. Working full-time with three small babies was destroying me. Our jobs dried up and we were both again homeless with four small babies. A scary time.

We moved to a more affordable area, and both of us tried to make it work. I tried all sorts of part-time jobs and businesses, none of which really worked for our situation. I knew I needed to go back to school, and we did eventually get some schooling, but only just enough for us both to find work that barely covered our necessities.

The only thing I know for sure is that following money for money's sake has always been a mistake for me. I can only do it for so long. It's not sustainable. In order to make a living, I have to either do something I'm good at, or (preferably) something I love. I got good at a lot of things, but finding the love is harder.


Writer 

The only job I ever enjoyed that also suited my skills and temperament was writing. I've written in journals and letters and various other places since age eight. Won my first contest at 10. Had teachers tell me I was talented and I could do something with this...but what?

I did write part-time online for many, many years, and that income helped us tremendously. Loved it. However, I couldn't ever seem to make a living at it.

It's my last dream, really - to find a way to write for a living. Still working on that one, so we'll see how that goes.

Personal History - Portrait of the Writer as A Young Woman

Describe yourself as a young adult.

I've kept a personal journal since I was eight years old, but it's really hard for me to go back and look at those young adult entries. My perspective now makes me wish I'd been different as a young adult, when there were so many opportunities around me that I couldn't see.

But I couldn't, and I'm coming to peace with that now, and learning to accept myself as I was back then.

Physically

I've always been tall - often the tallest in my class. The best way to find me in school pictures was to look on the back row, and there I was.

Most of my life my hair was blond. I went from platinum blonde as a young child, to a sort of honey blonde into my early teens, to a darker brown, which is my color today. I wasn't fond of my hair color when I was younger, so I would often dye it blonde again, with the spray-on dye from the store, or just using lemon juice rinses.

My face, although smooth and mostly free of blemishes, felt too heavy. I'd always kept about ten pounds more than I ever wanted to, and like an idiot, I let that color most of my young adult memories, instead of enjoying the fact that I was young and I would never be that young again.

Big mistake, that I'm trying to learn from now...that I'm still younger than any future versions of 'me' will ever be.

Mentally

I felt intelligent...much more so than I actually was. I read a lot, so I thought I knew things. Until I went out in the world and saw how little I really was, and how ignorant.

That's one thing I've always loved about reading. There's one book in particular that's become sort of a touchstone for me. I read it once, when I was very young, and didn't understand half of it, but I really wanted to. So I read it again a few years later, and understood a little more. Ten years later, even more of it I could understand. Every few years I read it again, and my comprehension just expands every time I do.

Emotionally

A mess. Just a hot flaming mess. Got myself in a lot of trouble from time to time without realizing it. Police were involved at least once. That's a story that's too embarrassing for online viewing, I'm afraid.

Maybe I'll share it when I'm really, really old...or maybe I'll have conveniently forgotten it by then. 

Spiritually

I grew up with my family's religious tradition, but some unhappy experiences in the social area (a lot of them, actually) left me with the feeling that I needed to run an experiment, and try to live without organized religion for a while....turned out to be about three years.

 It was a risky venture, but a very worthwhile experiment. Met a lot of people I wouldn't have met otherwise. Explored the idea of joining different faiths, or even creating a system of my own that would work better for me.

I found my personal connection to God through what I went through, as hard as it was, and that strengthened me for everything else that came after in my life. In my case, I did decide to return to my LDS faith, with the missing 'why's that made worship much more meaningful, and those 'why's continued to expand and grow for me until the present day.

Personal History - Graduations I Have Known

How many years of education have you completed?

Graduation from High School

I graduated from Bowie High School in 1988. Not crazy about the outfit - it was all white, and I looked like a parade float with a little square hat.

I thought at the time (at least in my mind) that some great mystical change would come over me at the moment of graduation. Some sort of flush of success, or relief, or something, would happen.

When the time came, I felt disappointed. It was a long meeting, lost in a crowd of people I mostly didn't know or care about. Some people talked. It was fun to watch my friends walk across the stage, but terrifying when my time came. Took great care not to stumble, or look around at anyone, and I wished I was a parade float that could just disappear.

The photo they tried to sell me looked terrible, but my family took a few photos afterwards that didn't look bad. My friend Andy gave me a rose, which I kept in my current journal. I still have it today.

Within a few weeks, I took off in my friend Toni's car, packed to the rafters, to move to New York City, never to return...or so I thought at the time.

Graduation from Community College

Getting my bachelor's degree proved more challenging. When I returned from New York six months later and deeply in debt, I thought I would go get a job, which I easily did.

What I didn't realize at the time was how difficult it would be to go back to school to finish my bachelor's degree, and how badly I would need one.

The local colleges weren't on the train or bus lines yet, and I had no car. Neither could I afford one. I worked full-time, and there was no 'online' anything at the time - nothing that I could afford. Tuition was way, way out of reach, no matter where I went.

I moved to Washington State, but still the conditions weren't right. It wasn't right until I married, and we ended up in Texas, that my golden opportunity came. Tuition in Texas was incredibly cheap, by comparison with Maryland or Washington State, and online school was just starting to become an acceptable option. It was doable, but we were so broke at the same time, trying to support three four small children on one salary, I despaired of ever being able to do it.

I would find excuses to drive by the local community college, wondering how do I get in? How do I figure out how to do this? I was obsessed about it.

And then, on one trip, I got in a fender-bender. My fault. Again, one that I couldn't afford to pay for.

And hubby and I had an argument over something a few days later...whatever, I can't remember what it was about. Probably money. So long ago.

I only remember that, somewhere during that argument, he said I was 'a stupid woman'.

That one sentence...it made me so stinkin' mad! That anyone would DARE say that to me!

That one sentence got both me (and him!) through our associates' degrees.

I wouldn't stop until I figured it out and made him eat those words (which he gladly did, later), and when he saw me doing it, he signed up himself. We took classes together, and helped each other with our homework. And we both graduated in 2011.

Children's Graduations

After that, we tried again to enroll in college. I even got a position working at a university, where I could take classes for free, if I wanted to. But then our kids needed our attention with the issues they were going through, and we couldn't take time away from them without risking our family's mental and emotional health.

So Sam and I both put our own ambitions on slow burn, in order to help the fledglings get out of the nest.

We watched my oldest boy David graduate with his associates' degree...and then my oldest daughter Aubrey get hers. Those were much more thrilling than my own graduations were, by far!

Our youngest girl Ashley graduates from high school this year, and so we're currently raising three college students and a high school student. Busy, busy. We're killing a lot of trees this year.


Future Graduations

And we're not done yet. David has one more year to go before he graduates college. My youngest has two more years before he's done with high school.

About that time, we're planning to find a way back to school ourselves. I've got at least a master's degree in me in something, and Sam's aiming for a doctorate plus professional certifications in order to become the therapist he's always dreamed of becoming.

Lots of work yet to do, before the final graduation day. Miles to go, before we sleep. :-)

Personal History - From Great to Good Enough

Did you get good grades?

Yes, I usually did.

I could read before I started school, and since I couldn't socialize, my best chance to receive the attention I craved was through good grades.

My mother was always pleased. My father too - at least at first. After awhile, good grades were expected from me, and I expected them from myself.

I competed with the best students in class for good grades, and usually came in second in the class. You'd think I'd be happy with that, but I wanted to be first. I wanted to be the best, and I drove myself as hard as I could.

I got kind of prideful over it, especially when I saw other people's grades. My older brother struggled with his grades, and I rubbed it in...until I learned, much later as an adult, that my brother had the dyslexia my father also worked against. In our teenage days though, no one understood dyslexia.

In fifth grade, I got my first 'C' grade, on all things, a spelling test. I had been a flawless speller up to that point. 100% on most everything. I actually studied spelling, and read dictionaries. That moment crushed me, and I put my head down on my desk and cried.

Yet, after that moment, I never cried again over a grade.

A World Without Grades

That didn't mean I enjoyed failure. In the rest of my schooling, even through college, I avoided anything I failed at, trying to cut a path through a way where I was already good at things. I wanted to stay an 'A' student, even if it meant sticking to whatever I already knew.

But the harder I worked, the more I realized how this was a mistake.

I avoided math classes, and eventually quit math and science, not realizing how much I would wish for those skills later.  I gave up on music because it was difficult, not understanding how many needs I could have filled in the future if I hadn't given up.

And I ended up good at things that the market doesn't value anymore.

I'm glad now that education seems to be moving away from grades and more towards skills - at least, I hope it is. Grades are so much more artificial than learning how to think and actually produce something.

I love my KhanAcademy classes now - where I can fail until I succeed and no label is assigned to me. I'm not an 'A' student or a 'B' student, or a 'D' student.

I'm a student. :-) Will always be a student.

Personal History - Favorite Teacher

Who was your favorite teacher and why was he/she special?

I had a lot of teachers, as did anyone else who went through public school.

You have to admire teachers, especially if you've ever been a teacher yourself. Having the opportunity to home school my own children really left me with an understanding of how difficult it was to develop curriculum, and then try to teach it to children, who didn't always understand what you're trying to share.

Add to that the pressure of needing to perform to a certain standard with 20-30 kids at a time, so the school continues to receive funding and doesn't look back to the parents and community, and I don't know how we keep any teachers around, really.

Lots of my teachers were burning out when I got to them. Some of them flaming out. My drama teacher my senior year retired right after I graduated; she couldn't take it anymore. I had a health teacher who was seriously phoning it in, and did lots of weird stunts just for shock value, like eating chalk, and wearing his visor upside down and calling himself a finger. Only he didn't do it for laughs - he wasn't funny. He was serious.

When the teacher didn't enjoy their work, for whatever reason, the quality of that class seriously suffered. When the teacher was perpetually angry, then all of us suffered.

Since I was a good and serious student, as well as a quiet student, I got lucky, and got the best teachers my school system had to offer, and I usually sailed through difficult classes where other students crashed and burned.

I had three teachers in particular that I really felt like I thrived under their hand. So I'd say my three best teachers ever (or at least, up to this point) were:

#3 - Mr. Vicari, 7th and 8th grade, Academically Talented teacher, Garside High School, Las Vegas, NV, 1983-84

It always felt a little unfair to me that only the 'good' students got to take classes like AT, but we were the ones that could be trusted to let the teacher talk and teach, and I guess we had the grades to justify it, so there we were.

Mr. Vicari loved us. He was a big Italian-looking guy with bright eyes and a big smile - he looked a lot like Wheezy Waiter on YouTube. He was also pretty funny, so we laughed a lot in that class, and we got challenged a lot.

Some of what we did gave me lots of stress - riddles, drawing technical schematics and inventing things. I did the best I could with stuff like that, but never quite got it.

Then, there were the times like when we had to memorize a poem by John Milton. Not only did I have that thing memorized, and recited it as required without fail, I can still recite it, on demand, even today, with feeling, many decades later.

One project in particular stands out in my memory. We did a project where we had to learn first aid, and practice administering it to each other.

Now, if you've ever tried to teach a bunch of pre-teens how to bandage each other while the other one is pretending to die...Mr. Vicari must have regretted it as soon as we started doing it, but it was the most awkward and hilarious thing ever. Laughing so hard we were crying. I couldn't see to apply the tourniquet to my friend Christine's leg, and watching her try to do triage on Tyler and blushing bright red because Tyler's only the cutest boy in class - I will remember it til I die.

#2 - Mrs. Eldfrick, choir teacher, 9th and 10th grade, Bonanza High School, Las Vegas, NV, 1985-86

She was a short, brown-haired lady who wore brown all the time, like a wren, but a real powerhouse behind the piano. She was in her element in that music, and worked us sooooo hard. Singing madrigals at 6:30am was magical, and show choir (we were called 'Starfire' - Vegas is a show town after all) was terrifying, but we strove to live up to her expectations.

Our Christmas choir season I'll never forget - what it was like to be on a bus, and one person starts singing, and suddenly everyone joins in, perfect harmony. Then we did it again at the mall, after the concert. And again at the Christmas party. A beautiful feeling of unity.

I remember her tiny feet stomping in time to the music, flapping her arms like a chicken, when she really got excited about what she was hearing. She never seemed to get tired, ever. I really didn't enjoy the rehearsal process after awhile, but I stayed for her energy and for the great group dynamic I got to be a part of through her.

My next choir teacher in Bowie, MD, just couldn't compare, so I left choir in my senior year.

#1 - Mr. Burns, English teacher, 11th grade, Bowie High School, Bowie, MD, 1987

The thing about Mr. Burns - he was a small man, balding with glasses. He wore Mr. Rogers clothes, and he looked and acted a lot like Mr. Noodle's brother Mr. Noodle from Sesame Street.

But he loved English literature, and particularly Emily Dickinson with a passion. She herself might have looked up from her garden in Amherst, feeling the energy of his love for her, and vowed to continue her poetry just for him.

He loved us too - you could just tell. He never got angry or yelled - he didn't have to. He talked to us and treated us like people, not like numbers. You really felt like he cared about each person he talked to. He was a teacher because he wanted to be one.

He even danced for us - we once watched a movie he liked called 'Berenice Bobs Her Hair'. It was set in the 1920s, and he demonstrated the dancing they were doing - little kick here, little kick there. It was so perfectly him, and I cracked up. Couldn't help it.

That year coincided with a great renaissance myself of my own love for literature, and I read a lot of Emily Dickinson's work on my own that year, because of him. I'd even made a plan to pitch a one-woman show for next year's school Fall production - the life of Emily Dickinson - with myself in the role, in the hopes that he would get to see it. I knew he would love it.

He'd agreed to write me a letter of recommendation for my college applications that next year, and I was looking forward to the possibilities of senior year so much...until I saw the sign in front of the school three weeks before school started.

'Edward Burns - 1935-1987'

He'd had a heart attack and died over the summer. I felt selfish for even thinking about my college recommendation letter, but I did. Never forgot him, though. We weren't close personally; I was too shy for that. But I always felt he was a kindred spirit.

Personal History - Favorite Hangouts Through the Years

Did you and your friends have a special hangout where you liked to spend time? Where was it and what did you do there?

Home

You couldn't beat home for the convenience. It was cheap, and most of my best friends (my brothers and sisters) were already there.

Mother created an enormous library of books at home, so there was always something to do. We made up games, like jumping on old mattresses like they were trampolines. Maybe Mom and Dad couldn't afford a real trampoline like our friends' parents could, but that didn't keep us from biting our knees and bloodying noses trampolining on an old mattress.

We had long talks, and fights, and TV marathons.

Swimming Pool

Garside Middle School had an Olympic-size pool we could go swimming at every day in the summer...and we did. It was the best. Started out with a very gradual slope into the deeper water, so there was very little fear of drowning. Taught myself to swim there when I was twelve. Burned there on a very regular basis.

Libraries

Libraries were always and forever my second home, no matter where we lived. When things got bad at home, I could always escape to the library. Was always there in Vegas. The library in Maryland was right next door to the high school, and I practically lived there. Great music collection there.

Devil's Church

This one needs a little explanation. It wasn't a regular hangout, but a very memorable one nonetheless.

The first weekend I'd moved in, there was a party for drama people. I'd just met several people who would become my closest friends - Russell, Lore, Lynn Bierman, and possibly one other person.

They offered to drive me home, but first...they wanted to make a stop.

By way of the Satanic Church.

Now, I barely knew these people. It was nighttime. I was probably already late getting home.

So, like the mature and responsible child I was, I told them, "Sure, why not?"

And they started driving into the woods.

If you've ever seen "The Blair Witch Project", then you know just how scary winding roads, with no lights, with trees that seem to close in around you can be. They filmed that movie in Maryland, just because those woods are that scary. No joke. I was petrified.

We started scaring each other, whatever would make us jump. Goatman stories. Is that a light I see? AAAAAAAUGH!

As we pulled up to the church...which turned out to be nothing more than a small abandoned wooden building with a steeple, and a lot of stoners hanging out around it, we drove around it, and then screamed and peeled out for home.

Once was enough for me.


Marketplace Mall

 Before it was torn down in 2015, it was a terrific hangout for after school, or even during lunch. It was just up the street from the high school, and just down the street from my parents' house.

My favorite video rental store was there - and a great bookstore when we first moved in. The movie theater at the other end of the mall was playing 'She's Gotta Have It' and 'Dirty Dancing' the weekend we moved to Bowie.

The pizza place across from the movie theater had some great pizza and calzones. My brother Mark worked there for a time. Later on after high school, my hubby worked at the movie theater part-time. We saw Toy Story there, the day after I gave birth to my oldest son (he slept through the whole thing). We even got to watch Independence Day from the super-secret balcony seats above the rest of the crowd one time.

The martial arts studio I would always stop and watch when I passed by - had one brother who got classes there. My favorite Chinese restaurant ever was in that mall - Baskin Robbins - and the Peebles store. My first bank account I opened there. The craft store they had in there was a lot of fun when I was a young wife. I used to commute to work, waiting across the street from the mall at the bus stop.

After we left, the mall deteriorated, and was torn down, as shown in the video above.

Annapolis Docks/Chick and Ruth's Delly

Those of us with cars liked to branch out farther than the local malls for hanging out. If you were serious, you went to the docks on Friday and Saturday nights.

Annapolis didn't have a lot to do, really - it was fun to see the boats on the water, and watch the new recruits from the Naval Academy walking around in big groups of Donald Duck outfits. My friend Stephanie in particular was smitten with the midis (midshipmen).

We loved to go to Chick and Ruth's Delly, and get a sandwich named after a politician. There were always new combinations for whatever president happened to be in power at the time.

Then we'd just wander the streets and talk until we got bored, and then drove back home.

Personal History - The Three 'R's - Reading, Revising, and Researching

What was your favorite subject in school and why? What subject was easiest? Which one was hardest?

Ever since I can remember, I've loved learning, just for the sake of learning.

I would look for new things to learn around my house, on television, in books. Some things were too big for me to learn, so I couldn't go there. It was like, they were greyed out, and I couldn't really comprehend them, until later. I had to learn to start where I was, and learn from there.

But I had a lot of curiosity. I don't think I was a kid who asked too many questions out loud, but I certainly asked a lot in my mind.

School as a place for learning was great. That part I loved. The dealing with the people part was really hard for me. If there had been such a thing as homeschooling when I was a kid, I would have been all over that.

English

I could read before I started kindergarten, so learning English was relatively easy for me. I listened to my family talk, and I read. A lot. The grammar came relatively easy (at least until middle school, when the English language starts doing inexplicable things - homophones anyone?).


But I've always loved my English classes. My English teachers probably had more impact on me than most other teachers, because I really got into the subject. Writing reports was a pain, but reading for those reports seldom hurt me.

Once I got to college, the English literature classes made me cry. Who cries while reading poetry for homework? I did, and I know...I'm a weirdie.

Math

I didn't dislike math as a kid - in fact, I kind of liked how consistent it was, at least in the lower levels. I just took to it more slowly than I did to English.

I remember one year in 7th grade - I took algebra that year, and I struggled and struggled to learn the concepts and do the homework. I ended up with a 'C' grade in the class. Both the teacher and I felt very frustrated, but it was truly the best I could do.

It didn't make sense to me to go on and take the next level up without really mastering the concepts of the class before, so I repeated the same algebra class in eighth grade, with a different teacher who didn't know me. I aced that class - understood everything, sailed through the assignments. My teacher, a little Asian lady, thought I was some sort of math prodigy, and encouraged me to try out for the school math team. I declined, telling her that I wasn't as good as she thought; that this was my second year at the same subject.

Geometry was a bust. Algebra II - well, that was it for me. I couldn't keep up the pace the school wanted in order to think of it as any kind of career.

I still like math. Still want to learn it, but it still comes to me very slowly.

Physical Education

The bane of my young life. I was not sports-inclined at all, so I was left behind in those embarrassing short-shorts and grey gym shirt uniform everyone had to wear, no matter how bad we looked in it, and run around the track or sit in the corner watching everyone else run around.

And the showers...I think I still need therapy for those memories. The teacher insisted we shower, so I wrapped quickly in a towel in the bathroom, ran in the shower, got my shoulders wet, ran back out, and dressed again in the bathroom...and then had to find my locker amidst the other pagan children prancing around stark naked. Two full school years of this...

Trina, Edie...I really didn't want to remember you that way...and now, what is seen, cannot be unseen...

I hated this class so much, I found a hack to get out of it. I took PE in summer school for two years just to get rid of those required high school credits. No showers required, and only a month and a half of each class and the credits were fulfilled! Brilliant! Plus, I had more room for electives!! :-)

Science

My science classes had their moments, but since I moved so much, there wasn't a lot of consistency in either my science or my math classes. I think that, if we'd stayed put, my life might have taken somewhat of a different trajectory.

I really loved science, from a very early age. My mother had lots of science books she got from her yard sales, and I would spend hours digging through those books, even though I couldn't understand everything in them. I remember once we had a physics demonstration we went to at a local college - I was very impressed with the amphitheater seating, as well as the demonstration itself. The teacher did a liquid nitrogen experiment, where he dunked a rubber ball in liquid nitrogen, and then threw it against the wall, where the ball that had bounced off the wall moments before shattered into fragments. I wanted to know more about that.

My high school frog dissection classes left a deep impression - while the other kids gagged, I wondered what was going on inside the frog and what all these parts were. My science teacher at Bonanza High School, in fact, looked like a frog himself, and I wondered in passing what he would look like dissected too. I respected the limits of curiosity, however, and didn't pursue the point.

Chemistry class was a wall full of the periodic table and inexplicable experiments that didn't make any sense.

Science fair projects were exquisite torture. I only barely knew what I was doing, and trying to get curious and make discoveries for a grade somehow sucked all the joy out of the scientific process.


The Arts 

This was my first love - first music, when I got to take orchestra class. Performing as a group was frightening and thrilling. Then choir, and then drama. Somehow this was where all my curiosity and all my questioning came out in something that happened, and affected people. I couldn't get enough of it.

After high school, I was sure I was going to be an actress. However, I made the decision in a vacumn, without considering holistically what that would mean for the entirety of life. Gradually, I came to realize that an artistic career actually wouldn't suit me, and I started withdrawing from the idea.

I still love a great creative piece though, when I see it. In whatever form it comes.