May 26-27, 1961 - even further back in the way back machine. This one dredged up a memory buried so deep there is even now only a sliver of a shard left.
It is from my friend Judy Stone, daughter of Pastor Al and Arletta Stone, late of Decatur, Illinois, who moved (accepted a call) to Seattle just before Judy's junior(?)senior(?)year.
"Dear Barbovitchiroffsloskyani," she begins. She and someone named Robin, who is a new friend in Seattle, and who writes me as well, but I do not remember her. They send me poetry. They tell me about events at Roosevelt - did she graduate from Roosevelt High School? She asks me to send her my class ring ("unless Hal has it") the minute I graduate, so she can wear it when she graduates, then she will send it right back. I think "Hal" had it.
"Hal" was my first fiancee'. He went to the high school across town. He was my "first." I think I was 17. That would put this event in 1960. I guess I began the 60's in a relevant way, but I was still in a 50's state of mind. When he asked me to marry him, I didn't know how to say no. During my first year of college, I sent the ring back. Yes, he bought a ring. And the jeweller he got it from gave Green Stamps. Anyone remember those? I kept the Green Stamps. Can't remember what I got. A sleeping bag comes to mind, but since I wasn't camping then, I don't know why I got one of those. I dumped more than one fiancee'.
However, at the time of this letter, Judy writes as if I am going to marry him and then "we" are moving to Seattle and he will get a job fishing in Alaska. And here I am at last. And my current housebuddy (not a lover) is a commercial fisherman. As are several more of my friends.
"Hal" joined the navy and became a pharmacist. There are stages in my life when he would have come in handy there as well.
My last contact with Judy was actually right here, in 1986. I had applied for a job at the Seattle Art Museum, and when I came for the interview, she was one of the people on the panel. It was a bad hair day. A very bad hair day. I was wearing borrowed clothes and shoes. I felt like a frump out of a bad 1940's movie. I kept thinking she was glaring at me. I kept thinking my mother had told her mother all about my divorces and my running off with a guy on a motorcycle years before and about my general failure as a life in general. I blew the interview. We said something about lunch sometime, but she never called and neither did I. It was a few years before I could get some good clothes and a haircut.
Now I can't find her. The Museum doesn't know where she is. But I'm ready now. We could do lunch.
It is from my friend Judy Stone, daughter of Pastor Al and Arletta Stone, late of Decatur, Illinois, who moved (accepted a call) to Seattle just before Judy's junior(?)senior(?)year.
"Dear Barbovitchiroffsloskyani," she begins. She and someone named Robin, who is a new friend in Seattle, and who writes me as well, but I do not remember her. They send me poetry. They tell me about events at Roosevelt - did she graduate from Roosevelt High School? She asks me to send her my class ring ("unless Hal has it") the minute I graduate, so she can wear it when she graduates, then she will send it right back. I think "Hal" had it.
"Hal" was my first fiancee'. He went to the high school across town. He was my "first." I think I was 17. That would put this event in 1960. I guess I began the 60's in a relevant way, but I was still in a 50's state of mind. When he asked me to marry him, I didn't know how to say no. During my first year of college, I sent the ring back. Yes, he bought a ring. And the jeweller he got it from gave Green Stamps. Anyone remember those? I kept the Green Stamps. Can't remember what I got. A sleeping bag comes to mind, but since I wasn't camping then, I don't know why I got one of those. I dumped more than one fiancee'.
However, at the time of this letter, Judy writes as if I am going to marry him and then "we" are moving to Seattle and he will get a job fishing in Alaska. And here I am at last. And my current housebuddy (not a lover) is a commercial fisherman. As are several more of my friends.
"Hal" joined the navy and became a pharmacist. There are stages in my life when he would have come in handy there as well.
My last contact with Judy was actually right here, in 1986. I had applied for a job at the Seattle Art Museum, and when I came for the interview, she was one of the people on the panel. It was a bad hair day. A very bad hair day. I was wearing borrowed clothes and shoes. I felt like a frump out of a bad 1940's movie. I kept thinking she was glaring at me. I kept thinking my mother had told her mother all about my divorces and my running off with a guy on a motorcycle years before and about my general failure as a life in general. I blew the interview. We said something about lunch sometime, but she never called and neither did I. It was a few years before I could get some good clothes and a haircut.
Now I can't find her. The Museum doesn't know where she is. But I'm ready now. We could do lunch.
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