Ripple Effect

A journal of memories, impressions, ideas and mistakes.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

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.

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