She had spent two years in Milwaukee, 250 miles away from thesmall town in Indiana where She was from, had gotten used tomaking most decisions for Herself, had a number of goodfriends, and had completed two years of University, at thesame time as She was working waitressing jobs. She was alsojust beginning to garner a small mass of security untoHerself, to realize how pretty and talented She was, to ceasebeing at odds with things such as Her body type (slender butshort-waisted, with a tendency to put weight on Her middle),the paleness of Her skin,and the fact that She seemed not only to have been born with two left feet but with one of those feet almost continually in her mouth. She felt She was justbeginning to come into Her own. She knew, even if She rarelythought about it consciously, that Her inner being needed alot of growth and development, but She also knew that wouldcome with time.

She had a boyfriend of one year, Tom, who was two years aheadof Her in school. When he graduated, at the end of Hersophomore year, he made plans to move to Portland, Oregon,thousands of miles away from either of their hometowns. Whenhe invited Her to move with him, it seemed only logical thatShe would accept. After all, they were "in love", those twowith all the intensity, foolhardiness, obstinacy andemotional immaturity that young love can gather. They foughtoften and sometimes quite bitterly. They always made up, eventually.

She made anescape plan, to be used if living with Tom should ever get toountenable, even for Her: She would use the $900 ofinheritance money Her parents had given Her and purchase aticket back to Milwaukee, where She would do waitress workand stay with friends until, like the proverbial cat, Shelanded on Her feet,Up until then, She had always landed on Her feet. Pithysayings, such as "The Lord always looks after drunks andfools" readily sprung from Her lips. She prided herself onHer good health, Her invincibility. She also prided herselfon Her courage, little realizing how much that quality wouldsoon be tested in Her, and to what degree. For before Sheever had the chance to seriously consider implementing Herplan of escape from Portland, She got sick.

She had, of course, been sick before, and had always jumpedback in no time flat. This time, when Her symptoms had notabated after more than a month, She consented to go to thehospital. Her temperature, at that point was spiking at 106degrees and She reasoned (however much a person with such anelevated temperature can be said to reason) that there was nodenying that She felt unmitigatedly awful and feeble and thata hospital might be just the place to go and rest and gathernew strength while She was getting over Her illness.

When She was admitted to the hospital, none of the doctorsknew what She had been struck down with. She had thought itwas hepatitis (---the free public health doctor She had goneto weeks before had said it was ---) but the hospital doctorsruled that out from the start. They proceeded to do numerousexaminations on Her. This extensive testing increased theexhaustedness and crankiness of Her already drained andill-tempered frame of mind. She also was aware ofexperiencing a sensation She had only felt a few times in herlife; a dark grey clammy sense of helplessness.

Finally, the doctors told Her She had sub-acute bacterialendocarditis, a fairly uncommon heart disease. She was told(or at the very least led to believe) that She would get overit, with no lasting ill effects. The fact that She had aheart disease made Her feel that Her luck had deserted Her orthat God was looking down in Her direction and frowning.

Even though She did not fully grasp the serious implicationsof any kind of heart trouble in someone who was not yettwenty, She realized that it was an annoyance. It would keepHer in the hospital longer, perhaps even for Her twentiethbirthday, a few weeks away. She would also have moreintravenous injections stuck in Her six times daily, untilboth of Her arms felt like pincushions, and the omnipresentIV bottle on wheels to drag around with Her, wherever Shewent.All this increased Her cantankorousness to an all time high.Nevertheless, She managed, at most times, to retain a mockingsense of humor. When the head of the cardiology asked Her toname three adjectives that were descriptive of Her sheimmediately replied "Impatient, Intelligent, Irascible!" Itwas almost as if She were answering "Yes, I know just whatkind of obnoxious bitch I am sometimes, but part of your jobis to deal with crabby, disagreeable patients like me!!!"

She had not been told that the heart disease left Her wideopen to having a stroke. Perhaps they did not see any suchdanger in one so youthful and previously healthy. Yet, twoweeks before Her 20th birthday, stroke She did. Massively. In onefell swoop, Her right side was (temporarily) totally wipedout, together with Her power of speech. Her eyes were messedup too. When She realized what had happened to Her, She couldnot even get up the energy to shake Her fist at God, couldnot even mouth the curse words She wanted so badly to say.

In the next few hours, days and weeks, as She graduallybecame cognizant of the magnitude of the blow that had beendealt Her, She became ever more furious and She felt anoverwhelming sense of betrayal. These feelings extended tovirtually everybody. She was enraged at the doctors, becausethey had not prepared Her either emotionally or physically inany way for having a stroke. She was furious with thepopulation at large; they did not have to deal with a brandnew handicap as She did. Also, She was particularly lividwith Tom.

Though Tom had made daily visits to the hospital, he rarelystayed longer than ten minutes with Her, and never failed tomake obvious his distaste for Her sickened state and his lackof proper human compassion in the face of the suffering ofsomeone he loved. Tom had also never ceased to point out, inmost unflattering terms how underweight and unwell She waslooking. No, Tom had not reacted well to Her illness. And inlight of the most recent development, the stroke, part of Herhad the urgent wish to punch him out and scream "How do youlike what has happened to me and my body NOW, you arrogant,superficial S.O.B.?" At that point in Her life, however, Shehad neither the physical strength nor the word power to putthese thoughts and deeds into action.

Her worst sense of fury and betrayal was directed at God,himself. "How could you let me suffer this much? I know I'mnot perfect, but what did I ever do to deserve this? Ithought you were supposed to be a loving God!" She still knewthat he was a loving God. In fact, She felt his comfortingpresence strongly a few times as She lay in the bleakhospital room. It would be a while, however, before Shecould reconcile the loving God She believed in with the trauma he was not stopping Her from enduring.

The period of Her life when She got over her heart disease and recuperated from the worst effects of the stroke and learned to talk and walk again, after a fashion, has already been described by Her elsewhere in almost ad nauseum detail.I therefore will not dwell on it in this narrative. Instead,let me lead you back to March 1975...

At this time, She had just gotten out of the fancyRehabilation Institute of Chicago and gone back to Herparents' house to live. When She walked in the door, theoldest of Her five younger brothers was playing the piano,and She was conscious of the fact that he now surpassed thehighest level that She had ever played at. Now She walkedwith a cane and Her right arm and hand were so messed up thatShe might never play properly again.

She reached out to hug her brother, who was still playing thepiano. He continued playing, effectively ignoring her. Shestood waiting for him to give Her some form of greeting. Hecontinued playing. She was aware of the fact that the lightblue sweater She was wearing, which had been loose and good-looking on Her a year ago, when She had weighed around 120 or125, was now unattractively snug. When She had been sick Shehad dipped way down to below 90 pounds, anorexically thin forsomeone who measured 5'7". Subsequently She had gained herweight back plus about 15 unwanted pounds. Now, as Shecontinued to stand by Her piano playing brother, Her mothercame over. "Bobby," she said, "your sister is trying togreet you. Stop playing the piano and give her a hug."

She felt no real warmth in the dutiful hug Her brother gaveHer. But then again all of Her feelings were suddenly beingobscured by the most overpowering sensation of all; suddenly,horribly, She was feeling like a bizarre fish out of water,in the house of Her own parents. She had arrived expectingthe usual familiar, secure harbor. But now, even at Herparents house, She no longer felt safe. Everything hadchanged, or at least She perceived it to be so because of theway She had been changed by Her trauma.

They had tried, in their way, to welcome Her back. Knowingthat Her favorite color was purple, they had bought lavendershaded paint with which to paint Her room. Unfortunately,though the paint looked allright in the can, it lookedunadulteratedly atrocious on Her bedroom wall. She did notwant to hurt their feelings by telling them so, not afterthey had worked to paint it. She would live with it for thetime being.

She had to become accustomed to a number of things quickly.There was a palpable (albeit invisible) wall of emotionalpain, a wall that had Her on one side and the other membersof Her family on the opposite side. About many things, eventhings She had felt confident in knowing for much of Herlife, She could say black and they would suddenly,unaccountably answer white.

She had to suffer newly acerbic comments from Her parents(and sometimes siblings) about Her taste (or lack thereof) inmusic and clothes and was suddenly being confronted about many of Her actions and opinions. It did not help that the stroke had brought with it a new degree of immaturity and broken up Her thinking processes to a degree in which She felt almost incapable of standing up for herself, in any debate or argument.

She had had a better than average voice, high and sweet. AsShe was getting her voice back, She would occasionally singalong with the rock and roll songs on the radio. Once, whenShe did this, in front of her mom and little sister, hersister said excitedly,"Mom, I think She is getting her voiceback." Her mom answered, "Oh no, Mary, I don't think that'sHer voice I think that's somebody else's voice...". Thesubtext that She picked up from Her mother's remark (validlyor invalidly, for it would be years before She would stopfeeling excessively defensive) was "I don't want any daughterof mine sounding like a cheap rock and roller. What aboutthe folk songs you used to sing?" If Her mother had voicedthis thought, She would have answered that it made Her toosad to attempt to sing the folk songs of the past, in Her newfar-from-perfect voice, and without being able to accompanyHerself on the guitar that She had taught herself to playwhen She was 14.

Shortly after that, She walked in the living room and startedsinging along with another song on the radio. Her mom and dadimmediately started criticizing Her performance. They couldnot find one nice thing to say about it. Then and there, Shemade a decision; it would be a long time before She would leteither of them hear Her sing, again. (It was too; it wasyears.)

Some of the clothes that had fit Her perfectly last year werenow tight. Some of Her other clothes did not show Her at Her best, for a variety of reasons. She often did not take care with Her looks anymore; after all She was usually going nowhere, meeting noone, so whom did She have to impress? Whenever any of Her family ventured to criticise Her clothes---or anything else about Her for that matter---She would jump rapidly and acerbically to Her own defense; as far as She was concerned She was a young adult who could do as She pleased. Of course, She knew that her family found much of Her behavior offensive. However, She was too deeply wrapped up in Her own inner pain andthe search for Her lost sense of self, to be very concernedwith the feelings of others.

If She had wanted to be veryhonest with Herself, at that time in Her life, She would haveconceded that Her family was right in many of the observations they made, about Her. for reasons that went to Her very being. Everybody had to just stand by and watchpowerlessly as She stumbled around in a seeminglyendless chaos. She was at odds with Herself; therewas no denying that.

She hadnot, for the most part, arrived at a point where She was upfor a healthy dose of harsh self-analysis. It was far morecomfortable to think that Her family and friends were full ofhot air in their criticisms. Far easier, it was, to paintHerself as an earthy, spirited, misunderstood young womanthan to face some of the none too sweet realities aboutHerself. She just wished that everybody would leave Her the hell alone for awhile and let Her self-destruct, in peace, if that was what She was going to do...

For years now She had felt ever-increasingly at odds with theCatholic faith in which She had been raised, so She did notmind that for the first time in Her life they were notinsisting that She attend Sunday Mass, with them. She caredterribly, though, that She could feel their semi-constantdisaproval of Her and Her behavior. Hell, she knew that shehad screwed up by going halfway across the country to livewith Tom. He had let Her down badly, had proven himself tooweak and immature to help Her face the biggest crisis of Herlife. Yeah, She had paid an exceedingly heavy price forhaving thrown her lot in with Tom, the way she had. Socouldn't Her family just give Her some kind of break formaking an all-too human mistake and couldn't they all justmove on?

Couldn't they also give Her a small measure of credit forhaving been in love with and engaged to the man that She hadgone to live with? Wasn't a love without marriage infinitelybetter than a marriage without love? Her parents had beenlucky enough to have a marriage filled with love, but manycouples that She had had the opportunity to observe did notseem to be as fortunate as they were. She had already seen anumber of marriages crumble and end in divorce. A countlessaggregate of other married couples seemed to merely existtogether in various states of discord and cacophony. FromHer viewpoint, living together before marriage made goodsense. It let a person know what he/she was getting into,with no rude post-honeymoon awakenings.While She was thinking about these things there were issuesthat simply did not cross Her mind.

It did not occur to Her that Her parents had every reason to be unmitigatedly furious at Tom, that young man who had not only had the nerve to take their oldest daughter to live with him halfway across thecountry but then proceeded to fail Her miserably during themonths that She was hovering between life and death andneeded him most to stand by Her. She also was too obstinateto see that She should just cut her losses when it came toHer relationship with Tom and that Her parents had everyright to be horrified and even scared at the emotional holdthat Tom obviously continued to have over Her.

She could not find the words to explain to them that Herreasons for falling out with the Catholic Church went farbeyond (as her father had sternly suggested) a simple failureon Her part to adhere to the Church's stance on sex. It wastrue that she disagreed with the Church's position on mostsexual matters. Her views did not concur with the Church'swhen it came to premarital sex, birth control, same sexliasons, divorce, even abortion.But her areas of contention went a lot deeper than simplearguments about sexual matters.


The Church was, in heropinion, more than a little hypocritical; it purported toespouse anti-racist, anti-class distinction views and yet fewif any of its decision making members had non-white faces orcame out of non-developed or "third world" countries. IfJesus were still walking around on the earth at this time,could he conceivably sanction such a state of affairs? Duringhis time on the earth, he had been "poor" in actuality aswell as "in spirit". It was impossible for her to believethat a present-day Jesus would not be outraged at thepredominantly white, male, and rich power structure of thepresent-day Church, would not throw up his hands, shouting, "" NO, NO, This is not what I meant at all!!! "

In addition, why was the Church so discernibly misogynistic?Why was it that in the Catholic Church women were banned fromeven aspiring to the priesthood, let alone being Bishops,Cardinals or Popes? The best a Catholic female who wanted toascend to a titled position within the Catholicinfrastructure, could hope to do, was rise up among the ranksof (comparatively lowly) nuns. Even those who succeeded inattaining a "Mother Superior" (or other) title wouldnecessarily defer to a priest in the most importantdecisions. Would Jesus countenance discrimination of a bodyof the population simply because that portion, not beingmale, were not of the "correct" gender to best carry on hisholy work? In light of the vibrant, strong intelligent,women friends and relatives he had had in the Biblical days,she thought not.

Furthermore, why was it better to confess one's sins to apriest than to talk them over with God, directly? While Sheunderstood some people's need to talk things over with anauthority figure, such as a priest, She much preferred thedirect approach, whenever possible. And what was the dealwith addressing priests and nuns as (respectively) "Father","Sister" and "Mother"? As far as She was concerned, most ofthem had little to no conception of the things that went intobeing a true father, mother or even sister, in the realworld.

To be fair, when She had been close to death in Portland, itwas the people of Her parish and of Notre Dame University andSt. Mary's College (where Her dad and mom respectively hadteaching jobs), who had said constant prayers for Herrecovery and had donated blood. The Provost of Notre Dame hadeven phoned his sister Mickey, in Portland, and told her thatone of his law professors had a daughter who was sick in hertown and he wanted Mickey to visit Her. Mickey had visited.Furthermore, their prayers had worked, at least somewhat.She was no longer hovering between life and death. She waswalking, not wheelchairbound. So, She didn't want to seemungrateful. It was just that She was stuck for a time in ahorrible situation, one where She was neither reallywell nor absolutely sick. To make matters worse, She hademerged from the worst of her illness, feeling more hostiletowards, and isolated from, the Catholic Church, than Sheever had in Her life.

Her predominant emotion when it came to the Church, as withso many other things at that point in Her life, was a feelingof overwhelming betrayal. Her Church was supposed, to offera welcoming, soothing hand to anybody, no matter what theattending circumstances were. Instead, it appeared cold,unwelcoming, and too ready to lay an unasked for judgement onHer and on Her unseemly behavior.

She had a moral code all her own, albeit a loose one. It wastrue that some of Her ethics and standards differedconsiderably from those of the Catholic Church. It wasequally honest to say that in a culmination of this darkest,most disheartening period of Her life, She would little bylittle let most of Her morals, conscience and principles gosliding temporarily out the window.

For the reasons already given, She could no longer even givethe pretense of living as a "good Catholic". Catholicismwasn't real to Her anymore. She could take no comfort in areligion in which She hadn't been sure that She believed, foryears.As for living by her own moral code, that, too, was not aseasy as it had been. In the past She might have argued veryconvincingly each and every one of Her reasons for notbelieving as She was brought up to do. Her family would havestill disagreed with Her. But at least they might have betterunderstood the reasoning behind some of Her actions.

Now, though, the stroke seemed to have, on an interim basis,mutilated Her once considerable ability to dispute aboutanything at anytime. The family dinner table debates, in whichShe had once taken so much pleasure in participating ,seemed almost foreign to Her, now. For almost the first timein Her life She did not feel capable of speaking up forHerself and could not defend Her seemingly indefensibleactions and thought processes. And, as if this new inabilityto vindicate Herself weren't bad enough, Her thoughtprocesses, themselves, sometimes became horribly confusedbetween periods of lucidity. Thus, Her version of ethicalbehavior typically changed from day to day, moment to moment.

In the final analysis, it seemed most uncomplicated to justnot think too much about what Her real principles were. For atime She would just be content to let Her gut instinctsdictate many of Her actions. Unfortunately, though it wouldbe years before She would admit this, even to Herself, Herinstincts, gut or otherwise, had been left as damaged, for atime, as the slew of other more obvious things were. Herimpulsiveness was at an all time high; common sense and goodjudgement just took a back seat.

She hung around Her parents' house, totally bored anduninteresting in kind. Most of Her friends from the past werein different cities and states, so they couldn't have comeover, even if they had wanted to. She was, therefore, oftenleft to Her own devices. She could have spent the timereading and exercising. However, She felt too discouraged toexercise, especially in light of the grim prognoses Hertherapists had for Her being able to get much more return.And though Her eyes had come back to their previous 20/20vision, and She had two years of an English major under Herbelt, She had no desire to read anything the least bitdifficult.It was not that She couldn't do it anymore; it was just thatShe couldn't seem to enjoy it. She who had always been sogood with words, with writing, with reading, with English,suddenly had nothing to say, and could not stand to readanything of worth that anybody else had to say. So instead,She watched a huge assortment of soap operas (an unfortunatehabit She had picked up at the hospital, when She could notsee well enough to read) and senseless, stupid sitcoms.

Her friend, Kim, whom She had known for most of her life,finally called Her on this behavior. "You just act like abored housewife, sitting and watching your stupid soaps allday.You never want to go anywhere or do anything anymore.You don't even try to exercise. You say that you're sensitivebut you aren't sensitive to anyone's feelings but your own.I've gotten to the point where I don't even want to hang outwith you anymore..." Having one of Her best friends hold up amirror to Her in that particular way overwhelmed Her. Sheknew that what Kim had said was accurate. But She feltpowerless to change, just then. For a while, Her friend'sassessment just gave Her an excuse to feel even sorrier forHerself. As was Her customary manner when feeling depressed, Shereacted by becoming ever more (by turns) quiescent andpassive-aggressive. She also started spending time in bars, partying with her new barroom friends and acquaintences...

As far as Her brother Bob went, She could only ask Herself where the laid back partying guy that She had known and loved had gone. Bob was studying classical music at college, and he suddenly had no use for any music that wasn't classical. From Her view, his friends at college just seemed intent on out-snobbing each other. He seemed to look at Her, with Her tacky clothes, Her loud rock-and-roll music, and Her new, rowdy nightclub friends and feel nothing but contempt. He freely criticized Her, always with a lecturing, patronizing tone. She did not appreciate sermons, especially from Her younger brother.Deep down, She knew that Her brother was showing he cared. She often wished that he would find a more flattering way of showing it.

Her other brothers, John, David, Peter and Paul were closerto what she had remembered. But even with them there was theinvisible wall of pain. Much as She tried, She could notreally feel She was getting through to grasp the ties thathad once bound them all as a family.As for Her sister Mary, newly turned seven, she was a strangemixture. Sometimes Mary was still the lovely precociouslittle girl that her big sister had grown up doting on. Atother times however Mary's natural precocity would turn intoundisguised contempt and disrespect for her older sister. Sheremembered clearly Her mother complimenting Her on a dressShe was wearing, saying "It makes you look like a lady" andseven year old Mary looking at Her and the dress and saying"Well, not quite a LADY, Mom!!"Needless to say, remarks like these, even from one so young,hurt Her feelings and made Her feel even more isolated. Sheknew Her parents well enough to be certain that they wouldnever have openly gossiped about Her situation, but Mary wasa smart, intuitive child who could pick up a lot of messagesfrom what was not said, and what was talked about inwhispers, behind closed doors.

She also had to deal with a new roommate Mickey. Mickey was the sister of Notre Dame's Provost. Mickey was in her late 20's and had befriended Her in Portland when She fell ill. Then during the long agonizing days when Her mother sat by,not knowing whether her oldest daughter would live or die,Mickey struck up an instant friendship with Her mother too.Mickey came to Indiana, for a two-week vacation. Mickey endedup living with Her family, permanently.Mickey was a godsend to Her family, wouldn't take anynonsense from the children, gave the parents the respect thattheir children often didn't. Mickey made Her mother stopbeing so much of a sweet doormat (---a role that didn't suither too well, anyway---) and forced her to really confrontissues and people head on. Mickey also brought order to theirtoo-long disorganised household.The family was good for blunt, shy Mickey because they,especially Her mother, gave her the emotional warmth that hadbeen missing from her life thus far. Her father, who was a law professor at Notre Dame, encouragedMickey to go to law school.

She would quickly grow to respect Mickey, for herintelligence and forthright manner, but it would be yearsbefore She would be able to shake the fact that at least partof Her saw Mickey as an intrusion. Even though Mickey did notanswer to Her mother or father, they were just about oldenough to be her parents. Never mind also that the oldestdaughter knew in Her gut that nobody could ever replace Herin Her parents' affections. She also knew that Mickey couldnever betray, disappoint and hurt them as completely as Shealready had and as She certainly would again. Mickey wasolder and wiser than She was. And, She, being theirfirstborn, their own flesh and blood, certainly possessedmore of a capacity to hurt them.

Feeling that She had no real allies in her parents house, Shedecided to move out. She was going to summer school at NotreDame University at that point, and managed to get B's in eachof Her two classes there. She saw an advertisement for aroommate. She answered it. She moved in.

Back when She had been in the hospital in Portland, Tom hadmade it clear to Her that he was going to start seeing otherpeople after She left and that She was free to start doingthe same. Nevertheless, Tom would slip in and out of Her lifemany times in the next two years, via phone calls andletters. They would even make occasional visits to eachother. Had all these encounters been positive and encouraging innature, that would have been all right. Instead hiscommunications and phone calls and their visits would tend tospin crazily, dizzyingly between the get-really-close scenesand the then-get-angry-and-leave scenes that almostinevitably followed. In the next couple of years they wouldbreak up and make up a number of times. Finally, in thesummer of 1976, they would break up for good.

After She moved out of her parents house, She increased herpartying, "wild child" ways. She had drank and partied beforeHer stroke, on occasion but never to the excessive,indiscreet extent She was doing now. Her grades in schoolstarted to go downhill. Always before She had managed tokeep Her act together, to have different aspects of Her lifeneatly compartmentalized. Now She just felt empty andfrozen. She felt that there was an emotional hole in Herheart. What, in light of all the turmoil She had been throughin the past year, did it matter if Her grades took a nose-dive?

Of course, Her friends and family had been right in theirunfavorable observations about Her; She was incrediblyegocentric back then, hypersensitive when it came to anyslight on Her, but more tactless than ever when it came todishing it out. She was also unbelievably dull, sometimes,with Her newly acquired taste for dime store romance novelsand daily soap operas. She was annoying really, with Hernewly slow, tiresome voice and usually not much to say ofinterest. Where had Her cleverness, Her ability to come outwith endless witty repartee gone? Was it yet another casualtyof the stroke?Added to this was the fact that She was common and rude. Itwas not that She had never been rude before the stroke; itwas just that now She seemed abruptly, inexplicably to lackany sense of proportion and Her sense of class had apparentlygone out the window. She was also suddenly more hostile andinsecure by far than She had even been at the beginning ofHer puberty, and that was going some. Yes, everything hadchanged, with the advent of the stroke, and She oftenwondered how in the holy hell it would ever change back, orif it even would...

She was attracted to nightclubs because of the easycamaraderie to be found therein. In the bars She could beeverybody's friend at the same time as She was anesthetizingHer emotional pain away with yet another drink. The peoplewho patronized the bars that She frequented, accepted Her asone of them. A lot of people talked to Her and even more menhit on Her than had been the case before the stroke. She wasstill pretty (although She mostly didn't feel it anymore),and now with the handicap, She likely carried an air ofaccessibility that She had not in the past.

After her fiasco with Tom, She was not interested in openingherself up to getting burned again. She was not ready to fallin love or make a long term "commitment". Like so many otherpeople in the pre-AIDS 70's, She opted for (and got) short-term, no strings relationships. In the next couple of years,three different people would ask Her to marry them. Sheturned each of them down; She wasn't in love with any ofthem. One thing She knew absolutely, even in these terribly jumbled, uncertain days, was that She would never, under anycircumstances, marry someone that She was not in love with.

Meanwhile, Her relationships with Her family and friendscontinued to head down a rocky road. They watched in dismayas She heedlessly dropped in and out of colleges and livingsituations. They noted with alarm that She seemed to beliving Her life on a continuous edge, taking foolish risks,partying too much with Her nightclub friends, and having toomany meaningless relationships.


During the summer of 1977, She met the man who wouldeventually become her husband. She was just coming out of herfavorite bar, to get some fresh air ---Her boyfriend of a few months had notwanted to join Her---when a tall, skinny man dressedin a wizard's costume had stopped Her asking "Doyou like jewelry?""I do" She replied, "but I don't have any money, right now. However,you can show me anyway." They talked for one hour, while he showed her the jewelry.

She found outhis name was Robert, he was 32, he'd been twice divorced, hehad a 9-year-old son from his first marriage that he rarelygot to see, that he and his partner had been working in thecarnival, when their van had broken down here in South Bend,on the way to Lake Titicaca in Bolivia. From what he didn'tsay but that showed plainly in his face and manner, She knewhe was as bewildered and wounded by the events that had takenplace in his life as She had been and would continue, for awhile, to be by Her own events. When he left, he gave Her afree wizard's necklace.

Robert and his partner never made it to Lake Titicaca.Instead they bought houses in South Bend. She and Robertwould keep running into each other, out and about. About ayear after they had first met, they went home together. Theycontinued seeing each other occasionally, in a casual way.

One day in November, 1978, She was faced with moving out ofyet another living situation. She didn't know where on earthShe could move to, considering it would be a week or twobefore She had any real money. She searched Her mind, forworkable solutions. She could, She knew, go to Her parents' house and ask themfor a loan. But She didn't want to do that, didn't want toadmit to them that She'd screwed up another living situationand that She was once again short on finances. Besides, She'djust turned 24, the month before, and She was a little old tokeep expecting Her parents to bail Her out of every littleproblem that She encountered.

She thought of other possibilities. Robert seemed aconceivable candidate. With only a quarter to Her name, Shemade Her way over to "the Cornucopia", Robert's favoritevegetarian restaurant. Her quarter would buy her a cup ofcoffee at the restaurant. She would nurse Her coffee untilRobert came in. She didn't know why she was so sure of thisbut She was as certain Robert would know what to do as Shewas that he would come in there that day.

After a few hours, Robert showed up at the Cornucopia. Uponhearing of Her situation, he told Her that, coincidentally,he was just getting ready to move out of the house that hehad been sharing with his partner. She could move with him tohis new place, he said. She accepted his offer, gratefully.She started working in a one-of-a-kind thrift shop Robertopened up.

Her parents and siblings were suspicious of the relationshipand of Robert. Her parents, I imagine, could guess that hewas as unreliable, unstable and rootless as She was, in hisway, back then. Her siblings just thought he was a spacecase, not a nice "normal" guy like Tom had been. They allsaw Her living a hand to mouth existence with him and a bunchof strange roommates in the poorest parts of town, while hedid semi-bizarre things like building a flying saucer in the back yard.

They could not see, and She could not explain to them, thatRobert, with all his apparent spaciness, was, unlike Tom,both kind and interesting. I'm not going to say it was easy,living on a wing and a prayer, as they did, and sometimeshurting each other's feelings with the other relationshipsthat they would occasionally pursue, because they stillweren't willing to commit to each other, not all the way.Somehow, though, they made it through without breaking apart.

She and Robert moved to Florida, Robert's home state, at the end of 1979. They wouldmove in and out of different towns and living situations, inFlorida, for the next few years. A beautiful, lively girlchild, Tanya, was born to them in October, 1980. A goodlooking, healthy boy child, Micah, was born to them in April,1982.These were uncertain times for them, financially andemotionally, times which nearly succeded in totally undoingtheir already precarious relationship. Still, they managed toride the storm, to hold their connectiontogether. In the summer of 1983, they decided to move theirlittle family up to Atlanta, where the job opportunities wereconsiderably brighter.

Atlanta proved to be a godsend to them. They had been used tobeing poor, to doing without and they would have to accustomthemselves to it a few years longer. But slowly, they beganto acquire a more solid footwork to their always previouslyfinancially shaky ground. They also began growing closertogether as people, roommates, friends and lovers.

In November, 1986, Robert fell ill. She learned that he would need an operation. In the next few weeks, She had torely on the kindness of friends and relative strangers. Herfriend down the street, who ran a home day care center,offered to watch Her children during the daytimes so Shecould be with Robert at the hospital. In addition friendsfrom his work and their church helped out by providing rides,meals, and sometimes even sleepovers for the kids. Herparents sent Robert flowers. Robert's mother flew in fromFlorida. Together they kept a daily vigil in the hospital.Robert had his operation, justbefore Thanksgiving. It was a complete success.For the next few months, Robert had to stay home andrecuperate from the operation. She was glad for theirrelaxing time together, overwhelmingly grateful that God had not seen fit to take him from Her. In March 1987, they became engaged.

Their Lutheran pastor married them, on May 23rd of that year,with various friends and family looking on. Her family hadlong ago come to accept and love Robert. He had proven to bea good father, a hard working provider, and he took good careof Her and made Her happy. For his mother's part, I thinkthat she was gradually coming to accept this Northern upstartof a young lady, that he had chosen. It was clear that herdaughter-in-law-to-be loved her son and that She was helpingto raise two grandchildren of which they could all be proud.And those of Her and his friends and relatives who caredabout such things were all happy that they were finally,after more than 8 years of living together, getting married.

She never regretted marrying Robert, and for the most part,he never regretted marrying Her. They made (and continue tothis day to make), a good couple. She provided grounding andstructure for him and he could always come to Her with themultitude of ideas that sprang forth from his wild, brilliantmind. She, in turn, could always give him Her logical,honest, usually accurate opinion of which ideas were doomedto failure and which were headed toward greatness. Hebroadened Her horizons, made Her let go of a lot of herphobias and preconceived ideas about what She could and couldnot do. And they were even more proud of their wonderfulchildren than their grandparents were.

Her mother had remembered Hersaying, as She left for Portland with Tom, all those yearsago "Don't worry Mom! In about ten years you'll be proud ofme..." Sometime when her daughter was in Her late 20's orearly 30's the mother would think back on that statement andrealize that her daughter had been right; she was now proudof her daughter. Around the same time period Her father had looked over at Her and said, "You've really done well for yourself!" She had always felt Her parents love but it was wonderful to once again feel that theiy were proud of Her. For Her 40th birthday, Her parents would give Her a beautifulmatching set of amethyst earrings, pendant, and ring. Butwhat meant more to Her was the one page letters they eachsent Her along with the gift, saying how much She meant tothem and how proud they were of Her.

She and her brother Bob never quite lost the ability to intimidate eachother by virtue of their widely different personalities. Overthe years, though they grew to accept each other'sdifferences, more, and things calmed down.One Christmas, at their parents' house they talked over thepast. He admitted that he had been rather insufferable backin college and She conceded that She had been loose andindiscriminate in those days. He brought up the fact that healways had thought of Her as lowering Herself, throwing Herpearls to swine, as it were, by spending so much of Herprecious time in the bar, getting loaded with Her rowdy,barroom friends. Neither apologised for their previousbehavior but by talking about it, it left the door open tohave more honest, even-handed communications in the future.

She had various candid talks with each of her other siblings,over the years. These proved for the most part, to be morehealing than hurtful. She felt most of the previouslytroubled relationships come back to normal by slow degrees..She had long ago ceased to think of Mickey as an adversary.When She started feeling love instead of antagonism towardsMickey, She discovered how wise and wonderful a friend Mickeycould be.

In 1992, She received an out-of-the-blue phone call, from Herfriend, Kim. During the years immediately following herstroke, She and Kim had drifted farther and farther apart.They had never stopped loving and caring about each other butfor years, their bond had been almost irretrievably shatteredin the face of Her crude, very questionable behavior of thepast. Both realized how much they hadmissed each other over the years, and both wanted to givetheir friendship another chance.She wrote Kim a long letter and they had some long talks, bothface to face, on the rare occasions that they were together(---Kim lived up North---) and on the phone.

One day in the summer of 1995, She received a letter fromTom. He was married with 2 children. Could he and She, hewanted to know, after all that had gone on, be friends?Hearing from Tom after all this time, brought to the surfacea rage that for years had lain dormant. She wrote him an 8page angry letter, which She didn't mail right away. Shephoned him on his birthday, October 1, and had a long talkwith him.

With the help of Her hypnotherapist, She made a decision: Shewould forgive Tom for all the ways he had failed to meet Herexpectations all those years ago. She had basically growninto a forgiving person. She didn't as a rule hold grudges.This stale, bitter water under a 20 year old bridge neededtaking care of. She wrote Tom a 5 page letter forgiving him.In the second letter, She also apologized for any way She hadfailed him, all those years ago. She sent the two letters,the angry one and the forgiving one in the same envelope, toTom.

The letters engendered more reaction in him than She had everexpected. They left him almost speechlessly horrified. He all but fell over himself apologising to Her, forhis previous behavior. She accepted his apologies with goodgrace; after all She hadn't been all that easy to deal withHerself back then.They would end up having the kind of informal friendship thatcomes from having shared a past at an important time in theirlives, and then having successfully moved on to otherrealities. They would write or phone each otheroccasionally at Christmas, on birthdays, etc.They wouldmake better friends, than they ever had lovers.

Coincidentally, or not, within a few weeks of Her deciding toforgive Tom, She met a recreational therapist, Colleen, whowould provide an overwhelming jumpstart in Her setting out,yet again, to get physically well. Within a few months,Colleen was talking in terms of bringing her patient to fullrecovery, or close enough to it so nobody would be able tohave any idea of the type or magnitude of trauma She had beenthrough in Her past. Colleen told Her that it would takeyears of hard work, but that she was sure of the results.Colleen had been right to be so sure; in the four years sinceShe started seeing Colleen, She's continued to makeunexpected improvements in her physical well being.

As of this writing: All of Her siblings have good jobs, and most of them are happily married. Her youngest brother, has a 1 year old daughter, and another baby on the way. Her parents still teach, even though both are years over theretirement age. Mickey is stillliving in the parent's house. Mickey got her law degree fromNotre Dame about 12 years ago, and works as a prosecutingattorney.

As for Her, She's doing excellently. She's working atGlobal, the telecommunications company that She and Robertestablished in 1990. She is the corporate secretary and thepersonnel manager, besides, of course, being an Owner. It isa small company, a David among many Goliaths, and like theDavid of Biblical times, Global keeps overcoming the manyobstacles with which its path is strewn.

Tanya and Micah both are young adults. Tanya is in her sophomore year at a four-year art college. Micah just graduated from his alternative high school. Both are bright and get good grades.As an added bonus, they are at least as good-looking as, andmore personable than, their mother ever was at their age.


Two relatives joined Robert's and Her household in the lastfew of years. One of these is Melissa, Robert's niece fromhis first marriage. Melissa ran away from her home inFlorida, three 1/2 years ago, when she was almost 17, and She and Robert took herin. Melissa had more than a little of the rebel," wildchild" behavior in her when she first came to theirhousehold. But considering the dissidence with which Her ownpast behavior had been filled, She found that, after a timeShe could deal with Melissa without too much difficulty. Infact Melissa has a number of things going for her. She issmart, attractive and resourceful. The other addition to their home is Robert's first son, Sean,who is 33. He possesses some of the positive attributes ofthe rest of the family. He also bears some traits that seemto be in short supply in Her, Robert and their children:organization, drive, energy.

She had gradually figured out that there was a pattern, apurpose to most things that happened in the world. Thus, Shedid not agree with those people, some of whom were even suchthings as writers or philosophers, who espoused the view thatsometimes bad things happened to good people for no reasonwhatever. She believed that, though the whys and thewherefores that went into explaining a situation weresometimes everlastingly difficult to figure out, there alwayswere reasons.Taking Her own life as an example, the stroke could, ofcourse, be thought of in terms of the slew of unboundeddisaster it sent in its wake. However, it could also bedefined by the amazing, rich, varied set of circumstances itcaused, to a lot of people.

If She had not had the stroke, She would never have met Robert, who was just passing through South Bend, aplace where neither of them wanted particularly to be andthey would never have had their wonderful family. It forced Her parents and siblings to (eventually) grow up, inthe face of the appalling unforseen reality check. It was arude awakening, a peremptory collision between the world asShe and Her family had known it to be and the erraticidiosyncratic way they were suddenly finding it to be afterthe stroke. It had the effect of unraveling the structure ofHer whole family so that it eventually could come backtogether in a stronger, more authentic way.

And what was the sum total of the consequences that thestroke had had for Her? It had, of course, at first,shattered Her little world and lacerated every one of Herperceptions. It had wrecked havoc with Her misplaced self-importance, which was just as well, really. It had alsodestroyed, for a time, Her ability to make sound judgements,to think situations through cleverly, logically and clearly.But when She sprung forth from the fog and variousdevastations the stroke had put on Her, She emerged a muchstronger, wiser, kinder person.

She is still, by nature, impatient, intelligent,and irascible. But these attributes are now tempered bysteadier distinctions. She understands, now, that to raisechildren, keep a husband contented, and deal in general withthe complexities of this big, intricate world, requirespatience, compromise, and more than a modicum of tact. Asfor intelligence, She recognizes that all the brains in theworld will not make up for lack of common sense. She isthankful that after all Her meanderings, she finally ended upwith both intellect and discernment.

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