Chapter 10... I Will Not Leave You...

HIGH SCHOOL YEARS... chapter 10

(I was able to find only a few pictures to go with this chapter)

The Recruiter...

          In 1959, early in my 8th grade year a few nuns came to visit at St. Anthony's.  They were Sisters of Mercy of the Holy Cross.

They operated a girls' boarding school in Merrill, a town about 90 miles south of Park Falls.  They brought brochures for "Our Lady of the Holy Cross" girl's academy.  I don't remember what all they said, but it appealed to me.  

          I wanted something more out of life than small town living and beer parties in the fields.   My dad, living in Indianapolis, had to approve since he was the one to pay the bill.  
       I don't recall much about my 8th grade, graduation or the summer.  
   
      My years at OLHC were good, secure and satisfying.  I still carried the question of, "Do they like me?" and that probably kept me from being more interactive.  Truthfully, I was a bit emotionally afraid of those popular girls and envied how easily they made friends. 

(photo: the dorm/convent of OLHC)

     I was a serious student of our "classic" education, meaning we learned Latin along with the more common classes.  The one class I struggled with was Algebra.  All those little characters seemed a foreign language to me. What do they mean and what are they good for?  Geometry was easy and fun.  I was not going back for more algebra.  

I enjoyed English and literature.  To this day, Miss Terrian's mantra, "Say what you mean and mean what you say." echoes in my head.     

  

                                                  Music...

    Music was my main interest throughout high school.  I was accepted into the Triple Trio singing group, which required a try out. Even with that, I didn't feel completely connected with the other girls.  We sang a lot of acapella and sometimes I worried I was "flat".  One of the nuns was impressed with my voice and encouraged me to take voice lessons.  Again, I needed to clear it with my dad since he would be paying.  It took lessons for 3 years.  It was a great experience and made me feel happy.  At times I struggled with getting enough air to sing freely.  Again, that mysterious physical affliction  interfered.

   My greatest satisfaction was, as a senior,  singing at the state level solo ensemble.  I was selected to sing my selection of "How Beautiful Upon the Mountain" at the closing concert of the contest.  My voice and air intake was just right to sing a great song. 
I remember a wonderful applause.  

   The most awkward musician dilemma was that I played piano quite well, but could not focus enough to play accompaniment for the choir.  I would get SO nervous.    

       
                                    

                                       Ready to Die...

    I think I was a freshman.  The school had obtained tickets for a performance of some sort.  It was in the small city of Wausau (though it seemed big to me) about 40 miles south.  Roads weren't abundant in those days; going into "the city" wasn't either.  We students were excited to go, traveling down by school bus.  The weather was cold, but there was no snow on the ground.  It must have been rainy and the conditions questionable since I remember some discussion among the nuns as to whether we should go or not.  It was decided we would. The area was hilly with rising cliffs, surrounded by open fields.  
     We had traveled for about 20 minutes.  I was sitting alone, watching out the window, simply enjoying the moment.  Suddenly there was a thud and the bus was swerving off the road to the right.  It seemed like it traveled down a small hill, curved around and traveled more.  I closed my eyes and held onto the seat ahead of me, knowing I didn't know what was going to happen next.  I remember thinking, "I might be going to die.  I am ready, Lord."  I felt no fear.  There was another thud and an abrupt stop.  I was still alive, though had jerked my body severely. 
We had been hit from behind by a truck coming down a hill and unable to stop.  The bus driver was able to steer us off the road and into an open field with a small incline.  
     I don't remember the immediate rescue efforts or how we got back to the school or any follow up medical care.  I don't think anyone was severely injured, though I struggled with whiplash issues after that.
     I recall that months later while I was home in Indianapolis my dad was still upset and tried emphatically to get money from an insurance company for "worry and anxiety" that the accident had caused.  I don't know if there ever was a settlement.  
    What is outstanding in my memory is the total peace I felt while "waiting to die".  I wonder if I would have the same reaction today.  

Appendectomy...

     Early in my sophomore year I started not feeling well.  Most of the time I had a stomach ache.  I would be up after "lights out" at 9:30.  I would silently wander the long hallway.  I don't remember if one of the nuns had taken my to the doctor.  Holy Cross Hospital, run by the nuns was on the campus.   One particular night Sister Mary Thomas, the dorm moderator, heard someone rummaging around in the "cloak room" where we kept our coats, etc.  That someone was me.  Realizing the pain I was in she walked me over to the emergency room through a series of tunnels that connected all the buildings.  I mainly remember the burning pain I felt in my stomach.  After some tests it was determined I needed my appendix removed. 

     My next memory is of a nurse/nun who was beside my bed in the dark of the night.  All I recall is the aura of tender sympathy and gentle love that radiated from her. I don't think I have since had that deep sense of comfort.  I was semi-conscious for the brief encounter then feel asleep.  

     I don't know at what point I became aware of a sickening odor in my throat.  It made me gage and wouldn't go away.  As the days in the hospital passed I was informed it was ether. I could smell, almost taste it, for days after the surgery.  Also, during a visit, Sr. Mary Thomas said she was happy to see me recovering and that long after surgery they were getting fearful I might not wake up! 

    

                                        Tonsillectomy...

     In the spring of that same year it was decided I should have my tonsils removed. (I guess that was the medical trend in the early 60's.)  I had a number of bouts of tonsillitis during the winter.  I don't recall any problem with the surgery, but vividly remember the intense recuperative pain for at least 2 weeks.

                                      Where are the Boys?

     Well, OLHC was a girls academy.  I personally didn't miss the boys.  I was totally content to be emerged in learning and girl companionship.  Most of the dorm students went home for weekends so I suppose they had their interactions then.  We also had town, or day, students.  Evenings were available to them. 

(photo: students and nuns at OLHC in 1950's/archive) 

 

  There was one dress code violation that probably highly annoyed the nuns.  We wore uniforms...beige blouses and medium blue jumpers.  Our shoes were our choice, but we were required to wear nylons.  Since there were no boys around to impress we had no qualms about huge "runs" in the nylons.  We wore them until they wouldn't stay on our legs.

     The school did hold an annual senior prom.  I went to it as a senior but the circumstances were a bit odd.  That is for a different chapter.  

     There was a boy in Park Falls who had a crush on me, though I didn't return the sentiment.  I would see him on occasional weekends back home when Uncle Jack took us to the Sunday afternoon dance at the tavern the boy's father owned.  He was the drummer for their small polka band.  This fellow told me a few years later that he would drive to Merrill and cruise the circular driveway around the building.  

     I was naive, as were some of the dorm girls, but others must have been more aware of personal matters.  At one point I started hearing rumors that a particular girl was not like other girls.  Shortly after, she was not there anymore.  

                                          Three Amigos...

     I did have good friendships with 2 girls, Mary and Judy.  Mary was from a farm near Park Falls.  Judy came for a town in southern Wisconsin.  She was a math whiz; also a gentle giant.  She had a warm friendly laugh.  The three of us became a unit.  We would always find each other as soon as anyone returned from a home weekend.  I recall once when I stayed at the school while Mary and Judy were gone, I was laying on a couch in the commons room.  For some reason I was in a very dark mood.  Fortunately, and to my relief Judy showed up; her smiling friendliness chased away the heaviness.   A few years later, Mary stood up in my wedding.  The strange end of Judy's friendship is that as soon as we all graduated neither of us kept in touch.  

                                            Sports...

     Actually there were none.  We had phys-ed, where we had to change into strange looking short jumpsuits.  I did as little necessary.  Couldn't handle basketball.  Again, that strange ailment  prevented me from running more than a block or getting physically active.  Somehow it went unnoticed.

     The one activity I could do was ice skate.  For some reason that didn't seem to restrict me.  Of course, that wasn't available year round, but winters found me on the ice rink behind the dorm.  Even at 10 below, the skating was rejuvenating!

                                        A Firm Anchor...

     Life at OLHC was a calm security for my adolescent soul.  Outside of school, life  was unpredictable.  A storm was brewing that would shake the core of my being.  That is for the next chapter...