One reason I wanted to look through Lynne’s photo albums is because, since she had a great camera, I knew she’d have more photographs of our high school years than I do. And she does, but the reality is not many of them include me or more pointedly, photos of the two of us. This is because, as I’ve mentioned before, my parents made me transfer schools my sophomore year, very much against my wishes. I understand why they did it, and in some ways their reasoning was good, but even many years later, those memories can still be painful. I’ve long outgrown my resentment and anger about it, but I hope to eventually put those vivid memories to use in fiction. In fact, it’s because of something I’m s-l-o-w-l-y developing now that I want to revisit adolescence through Lynne’s photos and my own. They help me remember what it was to be a teenage girl.
For a time, it was as if we were living parallel lives. She had all our old friends and places, and I had to move on to new friends and places. All the things we’d once have experienced together in school–working on the newspaper, homecoming parades and games, class elections, tests, proms–were done separately–and of course, those days were long before the Internet and cell phones existed to help us feel connected. I’m sure she sometimes felt abandoned. I sometimes felt replaced. But adapting is part of growing up.
We were both in our school’s plays during our senior year. This is a black-and-white from Lynne’s school’s production of M.A.S.H.
Our friend Susie as Captain Bridget McCarthy and Lynne as Major Margaret “Hop Lips” Houlihan.
I still have the program from their play (some identifying information has been removed, since no one ever asked to have their past splashed across my blog).
Which is funny, because I don’t have a program from my school’s play (though if any of my HS friends do and want to scan and email me a copy, that would be great!).
I do still have my worn copy of the play’s script. All my lines are marked, and I even made some changes. As a writer and editor, it cracks me up that I did this–both that I altered someone else’s work, and that I just knew I could make it better. Our play’s sponsor, Mrs. Bryan, must have okayed it. And by the way, Mrs. Bryan played a vital role herself, not on stage, but in my life. She was a key influence on my decision to stop rebelling against the school transfer because she challenged my intellect in our English classes, gave me endless encouragement in what I read and how I wrote, and is the reason I ultimately majored in English in college. She was a brilliant teacher who made me feel smart, valued, and talented. I thanked her every time I took a test or wrote a paper in college, and I thank her still when I write–and place apostrophes correctly.
Mrs. Bryan is on the far left of our cast photo, and they cut half of her off, which is too bad. Amazingly, I can remember all but six names of my fellow cast mates, and I might have been able to remember their names, too, if they hadn’t been juniors and therefore less familiar to me.
You might spot me somewhere in this photo dressed as librarian Charlotte Wolf. I’ll even make it a little easier on you. You can view a larger version of the cast photo here.
“Open Range”
