Once I learned not to dip into the bag of chocolate chips my roommate intended for cookies, our shared home life was never bad. But when we were three—two Midwesterners teaching second grade and English, and a history teacher from Maine—we had even more fun, mostly at the expense of the self-described “Mainiac.” While I don’t think we were mean, the two of us had been together long enough to “get” each other. The school claimed at least six days a week, because church offered no escape. We were required to attend the church that owned the school (the pastor of the church was the president of the school, though he had no training in education). So, Miss Johnson, and all the rest of the faculty, were available twice on Sundays, should any parents want to confer, as did happen. And if there was a sports event, a concert, a play, or a fundraiser, Saturday could also belong to the school. The additional responsibilities of lesson plans and grading left little time over for just being who we were outside of work. We did try to have a life of our own. Alicia was more craft-oriented than I was; she embroidered, did quilling, painted on fabric, took a class in folk art painting. I read and wrote and also tried the painting on fabric craze; most of the time, however, I was on the couch with a book, reading silently but laughing out loud sometimes. Jennie read Time magazine and obsessively watched the news, even on vacation. The books she read concerned her subject area, not P.G. Wodehouse or Dorothy Sayers. Although she was funny, she didn’t have a frivolous mind. One day, in that self-absorbed and careless twenty-something way, I asked her, “Jennie, what do you do to be a person?” I think I hurt her feelings, though I was just obliquely suggesting she develop some hobbies and not be so wrapped up in teaching and her future plans for mission work. That question came back to me this morning, still early in my retirement. What am I doing to be a person? Example of tole painting: Artisan unknown. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9983187
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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