Mary, Olympia
From 400 Words, Issue 1
by Mary—Age 46—Olympia, WA
I was born into a sad person’s middle class white home of angry people and miserable immigrant grandparents who loved me more than my own weird mother did. Always a feminist before I could clearly say the letter ‘f,’ I started seriously writing in second grade when the authorities pronounced me a child genius because I could write a simple poem and draw a perfect Christmas tree.
In the fifth grade I wrote a poem about Halloween so amazing that my mother insisted I didn’t write it, and chastised me for copying someone else’s work. So much for being a child genius. Between eleven and twenty-four I filled 41 notebooks with loopy poetry that today I can proudly say embarrasses even me when I read it. Just what was the point?
I spent the next ten years earning four educational degrees, including one doctorate from Syracuse University. Along the way I became a special education teacher in upstate New York. One year I spent working with K-6 kids in Johnstown, well known for its belching tanneries. That was in 1983-1984. I liked leather, so I thought it would be a fun place to live. It was nearly a Superfund site all by itself! I was lonely, had no friends since all of the other teachers were married, and my face was so stressed with acne that I looked like a pizza. So, I became a Big Sister to a little girl who had just learned that her real father was not her father after all. I also did community theatre in a former take-out fried chicken joint. I cried a lot.
In 1986 I got married to a fairy tale guy in a fairy tale place under fairy tale conditions. Five years later I wore the new label of divorced battered woman. I drew closer to my religion—Christian Science—which was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I gave up meat totally in 1994, my last holdout being twice-cooked pork.
I don’t smoke, drink, use drugs, or engage in self-analysis. I avoid TV, and read and walk every day. I spend my time teaching future teachers how to teach. I also do freelance writing for a neighborhood newspaper, volunteer as a BookPals classroom reader, and hang out with my humongous doggies. I sleep easy, have endless energy, procrastinate occasionally—OK, a lot. Life’s good. And I’m happy.
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