Ten-Twenty-Thirty

I don’t have time to do this, but I’m not getting done what I need to, today, so I might as well. Eileen tagged me for this awhile ago; Mother Laura did this morning, so I’m going to go ahead and play.

Ten years ago (1997): I was living in a house in the Westside Co-op neighborhood of Olympia with friends from college, working/volunteering at the co-op and working in retail hell, while I sorted out what I wanted to do. One of those friends’ fathers was (and is) an Episcopal priest. She attended church in town, sometimes. I was very involved with my interfaith community, but I remember feeling God poking at me. I was nowhere near being in a position to do anything about that, yet, but I picked up some practices that I held very deeply for awhile. I did a lot of writing.

The following year, I moved to Seattle and worked with homeless preschool kids. I also haunted the cathedral. I wasn’t ready to make the leap home, yet, but when I did (in 2003), those stirrings had always been there.

Twenty years ago (1987): I was in the fall of my senior year of high school, beginning an argument with my parents that would last all year, because they wanted me at a traditional college and I wanted to go to Evergreen. This was solved at my grandparents’ house, probably that spring. My grandfather had retired from a job with Health, Education, and Welfare (DSHS now, but education was his thing). He interrupted with, “Evergreen—that’d be really good for you.”

Yahtzee.

Other than that… AP classes, hanging out with geeky friends (Knowledge Bowl and Hi-Q), deep discussions about spirituality with my French teacher after school, generally having a good time while chomping at the bit to leave that town. I knew in December where I’d go to school, so the pressure was off me early.

DioOlympia’s youth programs (HYC and Search; the first of which has always existed and the latter I believe is resurrecting) were enormously formative. I didn’t realize the full value of a safe, nurturing place for questions until long after I’d aged out.

I wasn’t really a rocker, more of both a pop kid and a folkie, influenced by spending part of every summer at Girl Scout camp. I managed to listen to a lot of both Holly Near and U2.

Wrote a lot of poetry. I pretty much stopped when I went to college; the medium wasn’t mine, anymore.

Thirty years ago (1977) I was in second grade. Probably reading a lot, and avoiding math. My best friend lived two doors up from me, on our cul-de-sac; we were two of only three kids our age on our street. We also were the two slowest runners. She had red hair, and gorgeous brown eyes that I was jealous of. She was the second of four kids in an evangelical-Christian family (her baby brother was born after they moved); I was an only, and an Episcopalian. (Though I had no idea what that meant yet, our beliefs were clearly different; she was genuinely afraid of going to hell for lying.) I don’t remember now what we had in common, but we were pretty much inseparable. She moved across town the following year, and we lost touch. I haven’t heard from her since bumping into her parents when I was home from college; we were 19. I don’t know where she is now, but I know her kids are teens. Our lives took really different directions.

I also remember my teacher moving away, and getting a new one mid-year. My first second-grade teacher told me not to write my name in cursive, because I wasn’t supposed to know it until third. (Really. She could tell it was me; that’s the point of writing your name, yes?) Her replacement apparently liked me; I had her again in fourth and sixth.

I don't know who to tag; this meme has been around for awhile. Play along, if you want.