Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Saying Goodbye To An Old Friend

I was tagged in a really sad post today on Facebook. 
Memories flooded my mind and a tinge of bittersweetness made its way through my body. 

I went to college in the fall of 1989. 
And met my forever friends there. 
On the campus of Illinois State University in Normal, Illinois. 
I lived in an all girls dorm my freshman year. 
Do those even exist anymore?
Or does everyone just co-mingle from day one?


Sophomore year I was in a dorm that was all female on one side and all male on the other side. 
There was a lounge area connecting the two sides of that monstrous square building that allowed the males and females to engage with one another. 
So many memories were made there. 
Watching Thirtysomething once a week in someone's tiny room. 
I still can't believe Gary died. 
Horrible. 
Working in the cafeteria on the main floor...which really meant I just hung out with my friends while they ate and occasionally filled the croutons on the salad bar. 
Meeting Bill, who now goes by Jake (huh?) and his drummer roommate Chip. 
Steve and his twin. 
And later finding out Steve had no twin, he just dressed in a bipolar manner. 
Making friends with the cleaning ladies Rhonda and Angie. 


But the summer before junior year, we made our way out of the confines of RAs and guests who had to be registered to visit your room, to the house. 
Our house. 
Which really belonged to the single, elderly lady who lived next door with her cats. 
But, it became ours. 
All 11 of us. 
I think there were 11 original residents. 
The house was very big. 
And was known by its address alone.
916 Hovey. 
And the gals who lived there became The Hovey Girls. 

The first year was hectic in the house. 
Not only were there 11 women living there, but also their boyfriends at times and various random friends. 
I don't recall too many problems. 
Which is rare with that many females residing under one roof. 

The summer before senior year, our numbers dwindled down. 
At the start of (most) everyone's last year in college, 916 Hovey housed 8 girls. 
I think. 
My memory is in its forties now. 
There were a lot of rooms.
How I got my own bedroom every year is mind boggling in itself. 
Boyfriends, a fiancĂ©, male and female friends from other local universities, a few cats, friends from across campus all made their way to our home. 
The home of The Short Hair Club. 
Because...we all had short hair. 
We are simple like that. 


It was our own homegrown sorority. 
But without the monetary dues and obligations.
Unless you count the booze that was bought and consumed and the security detail that had to be instituted when the strange Asian guy from across the street wandered over. 
To stare in our windows and take water from our spigot that was located right under our enormous dining room picture window. 
And we were sent scrambling on our hands and knees to lock the doors while we were laughing so hard I'm sure most of us peed in our pants. 
He was really odd. 

Furniture was broken when someone tried to recreate "the lift" from Dirty Dancing. 
Boyfriends became exes and tears were dried on each other's shoulders.
One summer we wrote, directed, and acted in our own original play "Whiskey, Give Me Whiskey."
Which someone, somewhere has on VHS tape I'm sure. 

A friend that I met in college now lives across the street from 916 Hovey. 
With his wife and two boys.
He was a frequent guest of the Hovey House. 
And today Mark posted a photo online today of three mini bulldozers at the ready next to our house. 
Ready to tear into our cache of memories to make way for a new apartment building. 


Maybe that's what the kids want these days. 
Their own space. 
With limited amounts of people in that space. 
Why do you need someone literally sitting on top of you while you're watching tv when you can just text them and FaceTime with them from your own private space instead?
I relish in the memories of my 916 Hovey friends who sat on me, laughed with me, cried with me, stood next to me when Siobhan's boyfriend kicked down the bathroom door. 
All memories that sit strong with me today. 
Friends who have made an impression on me as an adult. 
Friends I met when I was still a kid. 

Last month three of us 916 Hovey ladies met up at Mark's house for a July 3rd cookout.
Rose traveled all the way from Ireland where she now lives to see the old girl again. 
And as we walked across the street to peek inside again, we didn't then realize it would be the last time. 
Rose, Tina, Jen (moi), and Mark. 
I'm glad we posed for one last picture with our friend. 
She had become old. 
Just like us, but even more so. 


Old friends take many forms. 
Walls of love, hope, and strong bonds formed around us as we lived in 916 Hovey. 
Enabling us to become who we are today. 
Everything in our past shapes our future. 
And if those walls could talk...I bet they would be snort laughing. 
And proud of us all...


Saturday, January 10, 2015

One Of My Layers

An internet friend of mine, Glenn, wrote a blog post recently about his life right after high school.
It was quite fascinating. 
It was also fascinating to see a layer of his past. 
And I made a comment about his post and his story that suggested that I needed to get out more. 
Because, I do. 
But it got me thinking about my own layers. 
And my own story. 

Right now I am settling into my current layer. 
The parental layer. 
Where my days consist of doctor appointments, underwear on the bathroom floor, homework, and sibling fist fights. 
But I have a past. 
And, in comparison to some people, it may seem very dull. 
But, it may not. 
It's mine. 
And I'll share a piece of it. 

When I was a sophomore in college I heard something. 
I heard that the theatre department was looking for dancers for a play. 

Hey!
I was a dancer!

I was a commercial studio dance major. 
Don't ask me what that means. 
Okay, I'll tell you. 
It means...dancer. 

So, I wandered over to the theatre department at Illinois State University to see what was what. 
They needed six girls to dance en pointe for a mainstage production by a guest director. 
Cool!
Sign me up!

I don't remember the details of the audition. 
But I got the part.
And what a part it was. 
The play was titled "White Boned Demon."
The story was multi-layered.  
Are you ready for this?
It's a doozey. 

Mao Zedong. 
His wife. 
Ibsen. 
The Gang of Four. 
Huh?

Mao Zedong's wife, Jiang Qing, was a famous actress in Shanghai before she married Mao. 
Her favorite role had been of Nora in Ibsen's play "The Doll House."
The play "White Boned Demon" focused on her trial in the 1970s and her memories of her past in the theatre.  

Essentially, it was a play within a play.
And I was to play a Chinese Communist soldier. 
Who danced en pointe. 
Oh!
And I got to swing across the stage on a rope during a fight scene!
Which was totally cool until that day that the rope broke and I crashed to the floor in a heap. 
It was all good because it was only during rehearsal. 
And the only thing that got hurt was the sole of my foot. 

Pointe shoes have a piece of wood that runs along the sole of the shoe.
But it doesn't go to the end of the shoe. 
To the heel end. 
It stops a few inches before the end of the heel. 
Once that rope broke, I fell from about 10 feet up and landed with a very hard piece of wood shoved into the fleshy part of my heel. 
I remember it was about 10 feet up because to get ahold of the rope I had to scale the rigging on the side of the stage midway through the last scene of the show. 
All of my weight landed on one foot, so that foot took the brunt of my weight. 
Which was NOT how much I weigh now. 
Instead it was a nice, light 112 pounds. 

I have always had a high threshold for pain. 
I was back up on that rope the next day. 
And the next day.
And the next day. 
And I swung on that rope all the way to a stage at The Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.

Illinois State University's production of "White Boned Demon" was selected to perform at the American College Theatre Festival in the spring of 1991. 

And the rope didn't break the night we performed. 

And I added another layer to myself. 

Another layer to my story...