Mary was a bubbly,happy attractive young lady. She was very full of life and had the most striking doe eyes that were complemented by her jet black hair. That nice combination of striking eyes and long thick hair was accented by her light freckles and big pretty smile. Her smile showed her braces, which she did not seem to mind. In fact, her braces made her seem approachable to me while other girls were not so approachable for an insecure boy like me.
I was a painfully shy skinny boy that had no confidence in myself and I had a very poor self image. This made life extra difficult for me because I was beginning to experience those strange feelings of desire that teen boys feel. I was at that awkward stage when boys want to be around girls, but I was still afraid to admit it. My insecurity caused me to feel I was not good enough for most of the girls that I was interested in.
Mary was different from every girl in my school that I was aware of. She seemed to have a glow about her person which was bigger than life and she just made everyone comfortable to be around her. Mary was friends with everyone and it did not matter if you were rich, poor, popular or a wall flower. Mary appeared to be very secure in herself and she was winning my heart by just being nice to me.
Mary was friends with one of my distant cousins that was also in my French class. This made it easier for me to get close to her and have conversation without appearing to be seeking her out. I noticed her conversation seemed to make passing mentions of an upcomming party every time we were talking. I did take note of this, but I had not dared think of asking a girl to the party yet. The idea of asking Mary to the party was quickly crowding my mind as I was really falling for Mary.
I struggled for days and weeks to get up the courage to ask Mary to the party. I would sit and day dream while I wondered, would she accept? Was I being foolish to think such a girl would want to go with me? Could I risk the humiliation? If I did nothing, I would never know and I would be unhappy. If I did ask and she accepted, I would be in uncharted waters, but I would be one happy boy. If she told me no, I would be crushed, and it may even be the end of the world. Or so it seemed to a young teenage boy.
I actually looked forward to French class as that was where I usually got to see Mary. On this particular day I could hardly wait for French class because today was the day. I had a spring in my step and my heart was in my throat as I walked into French class that day. I quickly surveyed the class and I saw Rena, my cousin, but not Mary. I was so sad to see her absent, but hoped she would be uncharacteristically late today. Mrs Welborn called the class to order and Mary was still not in class. a I peered down the hall in hopes of seeing her running towards the door but she did not appear. Role was called and no one answered to my favorite name in the class, the one I unconsciously listened for besides my own. I thought, "how can I wait until tomorrow to ask her to the party"? Would I end up chickening out? Would Mary even be there tomorrow? These questions would have to wait, and so would I. I eased my mind a bit by thinking of Mary's wonderful smile and imagining her being excited and saying yes to my invitation. I remember nothing about French class again because I was a teenager with a huge crush.
The early mornings all started out with the smell of coffee in my house and this one was no different. Scotty Rhodarmer,the morning disk jockey on WWNC, was on the radio telling my parents about the important things my parents wanted to know. In between Scotty's plugs for Tyson's furniture, "up the valley in Black Mountain" and his spinning a newly released record by a new artist named Oliva Newton-John, he filled us in on news and events. He seemed to like playing Olivia's first big hit song, "Let Me Be There", with extra frequency. I really loved that song because it spoke to those feelings of a teenager in love, or serious like, for the first time. I remember walking down the hall and smelling fresh baked biscuits and frying bacon, I unconsciously savored the flavor of Sourwood honey that I knew would be available for my biscuits as I neared the end of the hall. Scotty had just jingled the words, "Top of the morning to you", as he always did, and it was followed by the shows theme song, "Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina". It was true, this would be the day that I asked Mary to the party and nothing could be finer.
As I turned the corner to the kitchen I saw my dad was in his chair, as usual, reading the morning Citizen-Times. Dad always had some comment for me, but on this morning, he asked me a startling question. Dad said, "do you know Mary Holbrook"? I almost passed out, as my mind raced wondering how did he know her? Did he know how I felt about her? Had I revealed secrets in my sleep? What do I say now? I managed to be calm in my voice as I said "yes, why"? In those moments, everything seems in slow motion and so was the case on this morning. I wondered had Mary done something extraordinary and gotten featured in the paper? I also knew that dad always read the obituaries first. In my heart, I was afraid to hear his answer, but I still hoped the response would be good. In a sort of surprised voice of a parent reading a child's obituary, he said she died. Those words rang like a gong and I could not make them stop. I could not put them back where they came from. I could not make them not be true. At this moment I desperately wanted to take Olivia Newton-John up on her offer to "take what ever is wrong and make it right", but I found her words were hollow as I tasted my first bitter experience with death. I can not capture the fountain of thoughts that flooded my mind in an instant and built to the point of drowning my very soul.
Why Mary, I wondered? She did not deserve to die, I thought. She was not even sick that I know of. Was this somehow because I did not deserve to be closer to her? I had a virtual storm in my soul within the next moments all while guarding my emotions that my secret did not escape. I did not know how strong I really was in my will. I did not say anything, because after all, nobody knew how I felt about Mary. This was my secret, and now it was my burden. I was ashamed to tell anyone about this, to bare my foolish feelings which were so unimportant now. I never asked another girl out until after high school and it may have been in part due to this traumatic experience that even my best friends did not know about. I hid it well as I went on like a zombie during the school day. When I got home, I would steal away to the woods and cry for hours. I managed to pull myself together in time for supper and keep my secret hidden from even the closest people to me, my family.
The years have put a softer edge on this terrible tragedy and other relationships have taken the place, but Mary was the first crush. That experience tended to shape my feelings about getting close to people for a very long time. Sometimes I wonder how her parents dealt with their huge loss. There were many questions I never had answered as I did not go to her funeral or even acknowledge she was special to me. I never even found out what happened to her, but that detail was not important to me at the time because it would change nothing. The high school did not provide much notice of grief counseling that I recall, but I was so private about the matter that I would probably not have taken them up on any counseling. No grief counseling was received and no public mention was even made of Mary's death by school officials to my knowledge. I suffered my grief alone and worked out my own navigation through these treacherous waters of my young life. They say what does not kill you will make you stronger. I must be a lot stronger and compassionate because of this devastating event. An event I have never before shared to this degree and I find still brings tears to my eyes. May Mary rest in peace and always be remembered as the gentle sweet soul she was.
Thank you for writing that beautiful story. What a moving tribute to the power of first love and to our sweet friend Mary Holbrook. May Mary rest in peace knowing she lives on in our memories.
Calvin Robinson
Death of a friendMary was a bubbly,happy attractive young lady. She was very full of life and had the most striking doe eyes that were complemented by her jet black hair. That nice combination of striking eyes and long thick hair was accented by her light freckles and big pretty smile. Her smile showed her braces, which she did not seem to mind. In fact, her braces made her seem approachable to me while other girls were not so approachable for an insecure boy like me.
I was a painfully shy skinny boy that had no confidence in myself and I had a very poor self image. This made life extra difficult for me because I was beginning to experience those strange feelings of desire that teen boys feel. I was at that awkward stage when boys want to be around girls, but I was still afraid to admit it. My insecurity caused me to feel I was not good enough for most of the girls that I was interested in.
Mary was different from every girl in my school that I was aware of. She seemed to have a glow about her person which was bigger than life and she just made everyone comfortable to be around her. Mary was friends with everyone and it did not matter if you were rich, poor, popular or a wall flower. Mary appeared to be very secure in herself and she was winning my heart by just being nice to me.
Mary was friends with one of my distant cousins that was also in my French class. This made it easier for me to get close to her and have conversation without appearing to be seeking her out. I noticed her conversation seemed to make passing mentions of an upcomming party every time we were talking. I did take note of this, but I had not dared think of asking a girl to the party yet. The idea of asking Mary to the party was quickly crowding my mind as I was really falling for Mary.
I struggled for days and weeks to get up the courage to ask Mary to the party. I would sit and day dream while I wondered, would she accept? Was I being foolish to think such a girl would want to go with me? Could I risk the humiliation? If I did nothing, I would never know and I would be unhappy. If I did ask and she accepted, I would be in uncharted waters, but I would be one happy boy. If she told me no, I would be crushed, and it may even be the end of the world. Or so it seemed to a young teenage boy.
I actually looked forward to French class as that was where I usually got to see Mary. On this particular day I could hardly wait for French class because today was the day. I had a spring in my step and my heart was in my throat as I walked into French class that day. I quickly surveyed the class and I saw Rena, my cousin, but not Mary. I was so sad to see her absent, but hoped she would be uncharacteristically late today. Mrs Welborn called the class to order and Mary was still not in class. a I peered down the hall in hopes of seeing her running towards the door but she did not appear. Role was called and no one answered to my favorite name in the class, the one I unconsciously listened for besides my own. I thought, "how can I wait until tomorrow to ask her to the party"? Would I end up chickening out? Would Mary even be there tomorrow? These questions would have to wait, and so would I. I eased my mind a bit by thinking of Mary's wonderful smile and imagining her being excited and saying yes to my invitation. I remember nothing about French class again because I was a teenager with a huge crush.
The early mornings all started out with the smell of coffee in my house and this one was no different. Scotty Rhodarmer,the morning disk jockey on WWNC, was on the radio telling my parents about the important things my parents wanted to know. In between Scotty's plugs for Tyson's furniture, "up the valley in Black Mountain" and his spinning a newly released record by a new artist named Oliva Newton-John, he filled us in on news and events. He seemed to like playing Olivia's first big hit song, "Let Me Be There", with extra frequency. I really loved that song because it spoke to those feelings of a teenager in love, or serious like, for the first time. I remember walking down the hall and smelling fresh baked biscuits and frying bacon, I unconsciously savored the flavor of Sourwood honey that I knew would be available for my biscuits as I neared the end of the hall. Scotty had just jingled the words, "Top of the morning to you", as he always did, and it was followed by the shows theme song, "Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina". It was true, this would be the day that I asked Mary to the party and nothing could be finer.
As I turned the corner to the kitchen I saw my dad was in his chair, as usual, reading the morning Citizen-Times. Dad always had some comment for me, but on this morning, he asked me a startling question. Dad said, "do you know Mary Holbrook"? I almost passed out, as my mind raced wondering how did he know her? Did he know how I felt about her? Had I revealed secrets in my sleep? What do I say now? I managed to be calm in my voice as I said "yes, why"? In those moments, everything seems in slow motion and so was the case on this morning. I wondered had Mary done something extraordinary and gotten featured in the paper? I also knew that dad always read the obituaries first. In my heart, I was afraid to hear his answer, but I still hoped the response would be good. In a sort of surprised voice of a parent reading a child's obituary, he said she died. Those words rang like a gong and I could not make them stop. I could not put them back where they came from. I could not make them not be true. At this moment I desperately wanted to take Olivia Newton-John up on her offer to "take what ever is wrong and make it right", but I found her words were hollow as I tasted my first bitter experience with death. I can not capture the fountain of thoughts that flooded my mind in an instant and built to the point of drowning my very soul.
Why Mary, I wondered? She did not deserve to die, I thought. She was not even sick that I know of. Was this somehow because I did not deserve to be closer to her? I had a virtual storm in my soul within the next moments all while guarding my emotions that my secret did not escape. I did not know how strong I really was in my will. I did not say anything, because after all, nobody knew how I felt about Mary. This was my secret, and now it was my burden. I was ashamed to tell anyone about this, to bare my foolish feelings which were so unimportant now. I never asked another girl out until after high school and it may have been in part due to this traumatic experience that even my best friends did not know about. I hid it well as I went on like a zombie during the school day. When I got home, I would steal away to the woods and cry for hours. I managed to pull myself together in time for supper and keep my secret hidden from even the closest people to me, my family.
The years have put a softer edge on this terrible tragedy and other relationships have taken the place, but Mary was the first crush. That experience tended to shape my feelings about getting close to people for a very long time. Sometimes I wonder how her parents dealt with their huge loss. There were many questions I never had answered as I did not go to her funeral or even acknowledge she was special to me. I never even found out what happened to her, but that detail was not important to me at the time because it would change nothing. The high school did not provide much notice of grief counseling that I recall, but I was so private about the matter that I would probably not have taken them up on any counseling. No grief counseling was received and no public mention was even made of Mary's death by school officials to my knowledge. I suffered my grief alone and worked out my own navigation through these treacherous waters of my young life. They say what does not kill you will make you stronger. I must be a lot stronger and compassionate because of this devastating event. An event I have never before shared to this degree and I find still brings tears to my eyes. May Mary rest in peace and always be remembered as the gentle sweet soul she was.
Calvin Robinson
Joyce Cooper (Coggins)
Calvin,Thank you for writing that beautiful story. What a moving tribute to the power of first love and to our sweet friend Mary Holbrook. May Mary rest in peace knowing she lives on in our memories.
Joyce