We lost a wonderful friend when Mary died. Not only did I know her in Jr high and High school, but she continued on to Baldwin Wallace with Bud and me and was well loved there, too. In our tenth grade speech class (do we all remember Edie White?) Mary did a reading of the famous "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" which brought a tear to most of the eyes in the class, including Edie's. Whenever I hear that beautiful editorial now, I can't help but remember Mary. She was special.
Kensington Elementary School, grades 4-6, I often sat behind Mary as my last name was Little and that's how they seated us lots of times, alphabetically. I remember envying her hair, the blond wavy curls she had that seemed the opposite of my straight brown. With the wisdom of age (?) how ridiculous! I also remember the fancy birthday parties her mom would host at their dining room table. All the girls in the class were invited and it was very festive and exciting for me as I was new to the class and had a summer birthday and rarely had more than a family dinner celebration. I'm sorry she won't be at the 50th to celebrate with all of you.
Oh the wonderful, mindless babble of youth. Much to the exasperation of my parents and brothers, who apparently had communication needs of their own, it was my habit to monopolize the single phone in our house most evenings of the week. Behind a closed bedroom door I would dial up a list of female friends and stay on the line until parental outrage or boredom intervened. God only knows what profundities were explored. No doubt it was the equivalent of the compulsive texting that goes on between text messaging teens today. Mary Lucas was one of my victims. She was smart, she was funny, more to the point, she was polite and restrained herself from suggesting that I needed another evening hobby (homework, for instance) or therapy. We had one date in those long ago days, sometime in our senior year I think. We went on a hay ride together; a lot of laughter, a lot of kissing, a lot of sneezing. We both went to Baldwin Wallace College, but I don't remember seeing much of her there. I knew so little of the devils that plagued her life, so little of the trouble that was hidden beneath her intelligence and talent. The life of another beautiful girl named Peggy who I dated that first year at BW took the same tragic course as Mary's. And in each case I saw so little beneath the exteriors of these beautiful young women. One is often embarrassed by the superficiality of one's early relationships, its insensitivity and satisfaction with surfaces, and you wonder a little self-reproachingly how and when talk becomes something more than diversion or entertainment, how it becomes caring.
Pat Eaton (Spooner)
We lost a wonderful friend when Mary died. Not only did I know her in Jr high and High school, but she continued on to Baldwin Wallace with Bud and me and was well loved there, too. In our tenth grade speech class (do we all remember Edie White?) Mary did a reading of the famous "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" which brought a tear to most of the eyes in the class, including Edie's. Whenever I hear that beautiful editorial now, I can't help but remember Mary. She was special.Pat Eaton (Spooner)
Kensington Elementary School, grades 4-6, I often sat behind Mary as my last name was Little and that's how they seated us lots of times, alphabetically. I remember envying her hair, the blond wavy curls she had that seemed the opposite of my straight brown. With the wisdom of age (?) how ridiculous! I also remember the fancy birthday parties her mom would host at their dining room table. All the girls in the class were invited and it was very festive and exciting for me as I was new to the class and had a summer birthday and rarely had more than a family dinner celebration. I'm sorry she won't be at the 50th to celebrate with all of you.Sue Little Hodgson (left class in mid-8th grade)
Bill Napier
Oh the wonderful, mindless babble of youth. Much to the exasperation of my parents and brothers, who apparently had communication needs of their own, it was my habit to monopolize the single phone in our house most evenings of the week. Behind a closed bedroom door I would dial up a list of female friends and stay on the line until parental outrage or boredom intervened. God only knows what profundities were explored. No doubt it was the equivalent of the compulsive texting that goes on between text messaging teens today. Mary Lucas was one of my victims. She was smart, she was funny, more to the point, she was polite and restrained herself from suggesting that I needed another evening hobby (homework, for instance) or therapy. We had one date in those long ago days, sometime in our senior year I think. We went on a hay ride together; a lot of laughter, a lot of kissing, a lot of sneezing. We both went to Baldwin Wallace College, but I don't remember seeing much of her there. I knew so little of the devils that plagued her life, so little of the trouble that was hidden beneath her intelligence and talent. The life of another beautiful girl named Peggy who I dated that first year at BW took the same tragic course as Mary's. And in each case I saw so little beneath the exteriors of these beautiful young women. One is often embarrassed by the superficiality of one's early relationships, its insensitivity and satisfaction with surfaces, and you wonder a little self-reproachingly how and when talk becomes something more than diversion or entertainment, how it becomes caring.