Where Were You 1/4 of a Century Ago?
Twenty-five years ago today, I woke up at Grandma Svatek's house in Reedsville, Wisconsin, population 900. It was a beautiful sunny Friday, the last day of 6th grade. I walked a block to school, got my report card (the only quarter that year I received all A's), gave Julie Sheehy and Paula Karls piggyback rides, and said goodbye to my friends. Except for a few I visited again 24 years later at the annual Fireman's Picnic last June, I haven't seen those friends since. Later that day I took the second airplane trip I had ever been on and landed in Phoenix at 5:00 pm in 94 degree heat. I was no longer a farm girl.
(Anyone who thinks that living on a farm is sweet and beautiful has never been to a farm. The reality is not only lack of diverse opportunities or education, but broken noses, lost appendages, permanent paralysis, or death from typical farm labor.)
Not that everything was all peaches and cream once I got to Phoenix. Out of the girls that went to Catholic grade school with me that were not killed by gunfire, about one fourth became pregnant or dropped out before high school graduation. Things started looking up after freshman year of Catholic high school when most of the druggies, 51 of the 150-student class, didn't come back sophomore year. The cop posing as a student got rid of the rest of them, and the dealers, sophomore year.
But the real effect of that move 25 years ago was the full 4-year scholarship to (public) Arizona State for graduating in the top 5% at an Arizona high school. Which meant I had saved enough money to pay for living in the dorms, a place where people who were doing something with their lives lived.
Although I had to work harder because I didn't have as rigorous of an academic background as my classmates from public schools in the suburbs had, I made sure I did everything possible to keep my grades high enough to avoid losing my scholarship. That was extremely difficult. I had no time to think about anything besides getting as much homework done as possible. I often thought I wouldn't be able to make deadlines, but turned in whatever I had the day it was due.
And by going through that harrowing experience successfully, I finally knew that if I worked hard enough and focused my time on what was important, my life would be OK. Three engineering degrees, 12 years of marriage, and one move across the U.S. later, I'd have to say everything turned out better than OK.
(Anyone who thinks that living on a farm is sweet and beautiful has never been to a farm. The reality is not only lack of diverse opportunities or education, but broken noses, lost appendages, permanent paralysis, or death from typical farm labor.)
Not that everything was all peaches and cream once I got to Phoenix. Out of the girls that went to Catholic grade school with me that were not killed by gunfire, about one fourth became pregnant or dropped out before high school graduation. Things started looking up after freshman year of Catholic high school when most of the druggies, 51 of the 150-student class, didn't come back sophomore year. The cop posing as a student got rid of the rest of them, and the dealers, sophomore year.
But the real effect of that move 25 years ago was the full 4-year scholarship to (public) Arizona State for graduating in the top 5% at an Arizona high school. Which meant I had saved enough money to pay for living in the dorms, a place where people who were doing something with their lives lived.
Although I had to work harder because I didn't have as rigorous of an academic background as my classmates from public schools in the suburbs had, I made sure I did everything possible to keep my grades high enough to avoid losing my scholarship. That was extremely difficult. I had no time to think about anything besides getting as much homework done as possible. I often thought I wouldn't be able to make deadlines, but turned in whatever I had the day it was due.
And by going through that harrowing experience successfully, I finally knew that if I worked hard enough and focused my time on what was important, my life would be OK. Three engineering degrees, 12 years of marriage, and one move across the U.S. later, I'd have to say everything turned out better than OK.
posted by Lisa Schaefer at 8:18 PM
4 Comments:
"Anyone who thinks that living on a farm is sweet and beautiful has never been to a farm. The reality is not only lack of diverse opportunities or education, but broken noses, lost appendages, permanent paralysis, or death from typical farm labor."
If you're talking an animal farm, then yes I'd have to agree. The animals are generally not very bright, smell, and have a lot of maintenance (feeding, cleaning, clipping, health problems, etc.). It takes a special person to find the beauty/sweetness in all of that.
Now a fruit farm... that's where you want to be. Sure you have the potential to be at the mercy of mother nature, but generally some sort of fruit can be grown in most places habitable by people. Like any kind of farming it does require physical labor, but I've never heard of a broken nose or a permanent paralysis from growing grapes. You can pretty much avoid anything else if you use common sense about safety. The scenery is quite nice and I wish it looked more like that around here than having to drive 20 miles to find it. Also the smell of the whole area smells like grapes when it's time to harvest. It's fantastic. I'm presuming this works with other kinds of fruits in high densities like cherries or peaches. For education you basically get out what you put in, and yes there are less choices of things to do there, but you aren't sitting there with your face on your palm with your jaw open all day. There are things to do, you just have to be creative.
25 years ago I was a month away from being a zygote.
Ahh, cute young Chuck. How is cute young Carla doing?
Thanks for clarifying about fruit farms. I am not as familiar with the non-animal farms.
And you have a point about safety common sense. I believe alcohol was involved in at least 2 of the injuries I mentioned.
hi Lisa,
Is that really the outcome for our gradeschool classmates??? Holy catholic school Batman!! I must have been the one on drugs, because I sure don't remember a drug problem or undercover cop. Where the heck was I? I sure wasn't studying.
By the way.. in 1982 I was in 6th grade, had glasses, braces,was a dork and I had just discovered Duran Duran and was on my way to groupie obsession that still continues (sadly) to this day. At least the glasses are gone (gotta love Lasik) but I am back in braces (Invisalign- better than the old metal mouth) for a little straightening. Damn me for not wearing my retainer!!! I guess I haven't changed much.
There was a big drug/alcohol problem in 8th grade - boys and girls. Ms. Junkersfeld had us anonymously fill out answers to some questions about classmates abusing substances, but I had not witnessed much, so all I could mention were things I had heard. But this is what I remember:
- Marci Clemens & I crashed a party at Alexis Chard's house where she and others were smoking pot.
- Butch Harmon told me that he and Sean Maddock were smoking pot on MY neighbor's lawn. When the pot was gone, they fell asleep and the cops told them to go home.
- Cara Schneider's older sister hung around with hard drug dealers who also hung around with Ben Simon.
- Cheryl Giedlin was kidnapped by her cousin the summer after 8th grade and was even on a milk carton. She was missing only 2 months.
Then the 8th graders we knew after they got to high school:
- Jeanna Nealy shot herself.
- Jarett DeShazer, an A student in grade school, was making D's. I saw him on the city bus a few times. He met some weird guy that I think was selling him drugs.
- I went to a party at Marci's house where she was doing acid. It was at that party that I decided I was not even interesting in drinking. Ever. I felt like I needed to be fully aware of what was going on around me at all times to keep out of danger.
- Sean dropped out of Bourgade because he was in drug rehab for several months.
- I heard rumors that Mona Castro got pregnant by a guy known as the Wavemaster.
- Mary Kiel - I think we discussed what happened with her previously.
- Cheryl disappeared again before graduation.
- Noelle Lewis had a baby girl. I saw them at Bob's Big Boy one night several years later. Even though she was a bitch, I was going to say hi because everyone changes. But when the girl called her "mom," I felt like I'd be rubbing my life in her face and I just walked away.
- I think I heard something about Maggie Gore dropping out and Alexis getting pregnant.
If you look at the Bourgade yearbook for freshman year, I think you'll remember many of the people who didn't return sophomore year were druggies: Marci Clemens, Sean Maddock, his friend Matt with red hair, Melissa Kohlman and Bob & Joe Santa Cruz.
The cop? Craig Rowe. He's in our sophomore yearbook. He looks a lot older than a sophomore. He was there probably less than 2 months. He sat behind me in Mrs. Tunnel's geometry class (near the parking lot) and would get up in the middle of class to go for a walk. He was also in my accelerated English class and would say a few brilliant things, then not do any homework. One day there was a bust in the parking lot and Chrissie Rice and Mo Strebel got expelled. Craig didn't come back either.
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