A recent New York Times
book reviewer wrote a description of characters in a novel that I think
describes my schoolmates: “The characters exhibit the range of
personalities that you’d expect from a random sampling of Middle
Americans: nice people, abrasive people, the churchy, the alcoholic, the
educated, the not. You’d probably know which of them you’d prefer to
sit with at a high school reunion.” Yep. Tru dat.
Coming home to
live in Canton after 40 years of not living in Canton, I have enjoyed
catching up with some of my PHS characters—I mean classmates. Five years
ago, I set up this blog to tell the stories of some of them in
preparation for our 45th reunion. I’m back at it again for the 50th. Below, you will find profiles on ROSEMARY HAYNE, KATHRYN CULBERTSON, JERRY SIMLER, and CHRIS LARGE HAWKINS. I also have a round-up of 10 classmates who became nurses.
I
need to make clear that this is not an official class blog. No one is
responsible for this but me. I choose people to profile not because they
were or are the most or least popular or successful but because I think
they have an interesting story to tell. Maybe you’ve known someone’s
story all along. I didn’t, and as a writer, I like to learn from what I
write. So I sought these people out to learn something.
In
general, one of the things I’ve learned from writing this blog is that
many classmates thought they didn’t have many friends in high school.
Bonnie Andrews Kolberg, with whom I became friends only 40-some years
after graduation, used to say that to me all the time. And yet she had
one true very good friend from grade school on throughout her whole
life, and she let me tell that story. That friendship with Kathy
sustained the two of them through dating, marriage, babies, and grandbabies, as Bonnie
acquired more and more friends, including, I'd like to think, me. Her
life ended way too soon and sadly for her family and her very many
friends a few years ago. We miss her. But we have her story. Similarly,
another classmate once told me she didn’t have many friends from high
school, but when she came to a PHS ’68 girl get-together, and she walked
into the room, five women shouted her name across the room, and ran
over to hug her.
It’s not the number of friends you have, but the number of friends you can count on.
Two
of the people I have interviewed this time—Kathy Garnett Culbertson and
Rosemary Hayne-- began by telling me they didn’t have very many friends
in high school. And yet, both remember others and are remembered fondly
by others I have spoken to.
This time around, all of the people I
interviewed are people I knew in grade school, long before high school,
and with whom I had very little contact in the halls of Perry High. And
yet, I have strong, clear memories of all of them as children, and
meeting up with them again, all these years later, I saw them both as
the wonderful children they started out as, the interesting high school
characters they were, and the fabulous adults that they have become. I
can’t say that I understand their lives, so much has gone missing in our
connection in the past 50 years. But as the reviewer I began with
noted, “Friends, especially childhood friends, don’t need to fully
understand one another in order to accept one another.”
I’d add,
they don’t need to understand each other in order to show up at a 50th
reunion. Think about it: Weekend of September 15th. (After
note: I hope to profile three to four more people before our reunion in
September. If you have any suggestions, email me at my google or
website address or message me on Facebook. Please don’t put post it to
everyone. I am not looking so much for success stories as STORIES,
accounts of interesting things that have befallen us.)
Thursday, May 17, 2018
ROSEMARY HAYNE: Hometown Artist Makes Art and Good
Rosemary today |
Since returning home to live in Canton in my retirement after 40-some years away, I've looked up some PHS classmates, and I asked Rosemary to meet me for coffee at Carpe Diem in downtown Canton to learn where she had been the past 40-some years.
I was amazed to find that all along Rosemary Hayne had been the art teacher at Edison Middle
Rosemary, yearbook photo |
Rosemary was the quiet only child of an older couple, so when she went off to college, they didn’t want her to get too very far, and she went to Ashland College. After three years at Ashland, she became discouraged at what she perceived as indifference or apathy regarding the event that led up to the massacre at Kent State on May 4th. She was also disappointed in Ashland's art curriculum, so she transferred to Kent State and graduated with a Fine Arts degree in December 1972.
A few years following graduation she took a job teaching junior high school art in Barberton where she had previously done her student teaching. The transition to an ultra conservative-factory town was quite a culture shock after her hippie days at Kent in the early 70’s.
While she felt she was doing a good job there, when she heard there was a job at Edison, she went for it and was hired. It was a new and better experience. At Barberton, she felt that neither the school nor the parents appreciated the teaching of art very much. She says, “Over and over, parents said to me, ‘Why does my child have to take art?’”
“And not at Edison?” I asked.
“Well sometimes the students would say, 'Why do I have to take art?' but I didn't get it nearly so often as at Barberton, and it was from the kids” she replies. “I had good support from the school and the parents, who seemed to like what their kids were doing.”
Acrylic by Rosemary Hayne |
And there she stayed in the Perry Local Schools for many years, teaching at Pfieffer when it first opened. While she was teaching art, she worked in a lot of art media, taking classes such as photography, metals, and more at Akron U and a variety of other schools for fun.
She also worked in colored pencils. and producing her own art. She continued making art, primarily painting in acrylics both alone and with other local artists, participating in many art shows in downtown Canton. And she cultivated her love of having dogs, rescuing dogs, helping dogs be rescued, and supporting local animal organizations.
Then, like many of us, she got the opportunity to retire, which she did. In retirement, she has taken painting classes at Malone. ("Did you know you can take classes for free at universities if you are over 60 ?!!!!!" she emailed me, a tip for all of you who are looking to stay mentally active.) She also belongs to a colored pencil art group that meets every Friday for drawing and social fun.
Untitled by Rosemary Hayne |
"Dottie" by Rosemary Hayne |
"Old Blue" by Rosemary Hayne |
Since our first coffee meetup, Rosemary and I have gotten together for an art "fix." We viewed the "Elijah Pierce" exhibit at the Canton Museum of Art, saw some movies and heard some organ music at the Palace Theater, and ate out at Basil Asian. If you like art or classic films or Thai food, let us know, and you can join us. It would help if you are a dog person.
All of the artwork is copyrighted by Rosemary Hayne. Contact her on Facebook if you'd like to purchase any or see any of her other work.
Kathryn (Garnett) Culbertson R: "Happy, Independent, Blessed, & Thankful"
At our 45th class reunion, Kathryn
Culbertson approached me and said, “My life would be a great book, if I ever
get time to write it. I want to tell you about it sometime.” She briefly
mentioned that her home life was terrible during our school years, that one of our teachers hid her
during several weeks of school. and that another teacher urged her to leave home after graduation.
We
both managed to put off talking about it again until now, five years later,
heading into our 50th reunion. I sent her my usual questionnaire,
and she replied with answers about her current life as a realtor, her joy in
her children and grandchildren. When I asked her for her best or worst high
school memory, she said, “School was not an easy time for me. I never felt good enough, had no
self-confidence, was very shy and I thus had very few friends.”
She
left the space blank where I asked if there was anything she wanted to add, and
I wasn’t going to pry. But recently, she decided she did want to add more
because she has ended up “very
happy, independent, blessed and thankful. I climbed up from poverty and
physical and mental abuse to have a very happy filled life. I am blessed to
have the most loving and amazing children. What more could I want or need? And
grandchildren!”
I decided to share some of her story
here because it is such a testimony to her strength and resilience. (The rest
we’ll save for our book, right, Kathryn?) In addition, I want to recognize the
friends that Kathryn did have at Perry. I have always thought it more important
to have a few good friends than to have many acquaintances, and Kathryn surely
had a few friends who were great, both fellow students and teachers.
Her
real story began at age seven
when she was raped by a relative and told never to tell. As we now know,
that
trauma effects one’s life so very deeply. And other mental and physical
abuse
went on in her home. She gratefully remembers Faith Edgein Plumb, who
brought her
lunch each day, as Faith’s mom packed the equivalent of two lunches,
enough bor for each of them, and who has
stayed a friend to today. Faith confirms the story, saying, "My mom had
a difficult childhood situation herself and recognized some of Kathy's
need." Kahryn
also movingly recalls the friendship of Jody Dye, who transferred to and graduated from Washington High. (Jody now lives in Key West, and she is still singing professionally, everyone!)
also movingly recalls the friendship of Jody Dye, who transferred to and graduated from Washington High. (Jody now lives in Key West, and she is still singing professionally, everyone!)
But the big support came our junior
year when a teacher [Mrs. McNutt] discovered Kathryn
covered in hives, and questioning her,
realized that her student had big trouble at home. Together with another teacher and an
administrator, they helped her to get away from home for awhile and at
graduation, Mrs. Swearingen told her to get out now that she could.
1968 yearbook photo |
Years of hard work, medication, and
therapy helped, but it was a slow process, one that took years. She notes,
“Once I had children, I fought every day to get healthy and strong. And I did.”
Along the way, she went to college,
where she carried a 3.9 average until she was divorced and deserted, with three children to support. She quit
school and went into car sales at a Buick dealership in Toledo. She laughs,
when she says, “Oh by the way, I knew nothing about cars, just faked it until I
studied enough that I could talk about the features and then I learned to Sell!”
Finally, her big career move came when she obtained
her Ohio license in 1985, and her Florida license in 1991. Living on the west
coast of Florida for nineteen years, she specialized in “new construction and
enjoyed the entire process from picking out a homesite until the finished
home.” And she hopes to return to Florida in retirement. For now, which is to
say the past eight years, she has lived in Miamisburg, Ohio, where she
continues as a realtor who is “passionate about real estate and the flexibility
it provides…[and passionate about] working with all my clients and families,” several
of whom have become close friends.
Kathryn is also very passionate about her children
and grandchildren, who are “fun and of course intelligent, kind and loving.”
She went on about them at length,
saying much more about them than she did about herself, and I am going to let
her tell you about them: “My six grandchildren are the very best part of me… My
oldest granddaughter is 19 and is studying to become a nurse at St. Joe’s College
in Cincinnati. She has the drive and heart and compassion to become a great
nurse. Next is my step-granddaughter Alexis, who is graduating from high school
and then moving on to attend college this fall.
She along with my grandson, Cristian, 14 and Rauiri, 5, live in McLean,
Virginia with my daughter Jennifer and her husband Roger. My youngest son,
Peter lives here in Miamisburg and has two boys, Joshua 13 and Liam three and a
half. Joshua has Autism but very high
functioning. I have been enjoying teaching him how to bake and cook one night a
week.”
All this, and partner too: “I am also blessed to have
my best friend and finance, Freddie. We have been together for fourteen years
and enjoy traveling and just spending time together.”
**********
This was not an easy story for either of us to tell,
but we decided to tell it--not to be sensationalist or to give you all something to
gossip about. For my part, I wanted to say that in every school and neighborhood, there are
adults and children in duress, and that any small act, from a friend
bringing an extra sandwich to a teacher stepping in to provide shelter can be
life-saving. And Kathryn wanted us to know
how possible and how important it is to work, no matter where one starts from, toward a happy, fulfilled life, which she is
thrilled to have.
When I asked if she had attended any reunions, and
whether she would be attending the next, she noted, “Freddie and I attended the
45th reunion together and had a great time visiting with my fellow
Perry High School graduates. We’ll be back. We enjoyed the last one and I am
looking forward to seeing everyone again. Going to a high school reunion at our
age is sort of like coming full circle.”
Only now, for this classmate, the circle is wider
and brighter than ever before. We look forward to seeing her, too.
MY BOX OF LETTERS AND JERRY SIMLER'S STORY
Among the things that I have managed to haul on the 20 moves in my life, I have two huge boxes of letters I received 1968-2002. Most from 1968-1972 are from PHS friends. There’s a note from Carlee Clapper Adams, thanking me for the candy dish that Donna Cox and I sent her for a wedding present, a dish that Donna must have picked out because Donna was way more into weddings than I was… more into dishes, too, now that I think of it. Donna got me an asparagus dish for my wedding. Actually, I think they are called “asparagus PLATES,” but I am never sure about plates and dishes and silver. I am more about wine glasses. There are several letters from Donna at Kent State and some from Peggy Forrest at Wilson, and Colin Binns at Mount Union, all having a great time at college.
One big bunch of letters from 1968-9 is from Jerry Simler. As I’ve said elsewhere, since returning to Canton to live after 40 years away, I am meeting up with old classmates. I got together with Jerry to reminisce, and he told me a most interesting story from those days that never made it into his letters 50 years ago. Here it is.
First some backstory: Jerry and I both attended Watson Elementary, were in sixth grade with Mrs. Scheub, and then we barely saw each other during junior high and high school until senior year, when we were both in West Side Story. During rehearsals, we had a lot of time sitting around waiting for our scenes to be called—his as A-rab, a Jet, and mine as a Shark. Instead of getting homework done, Jerry and I spent the down time talking--about nothing, really—anything, so as not to be doing homework. He was often anxious, and I would try to cheer him up. Cheerful girl, he used to call me, I am sure at times through gritted teeth.
He filled two full pages of my year book that year with his big, beautiful loopy angled
handwriting, writing about the goofiness we all filled our yearbooks with at length.
In the our year following graduation, I went off to college two hours away from home, which had been my dream, and Jerry got drafted into the army. In March 1969, I received my first letter from him in basic training, a beautiful example of terrific letter-writing: written on beautiful pale turquoise stationary with two watermarks of soldiers hoisting weapons and backpacks and scanning the horizon. And so well-written! Funny and witty, despite the fact that in those days, basic training probably was not all that funny and wit-inspiring.
At the time I complained to friends that Jerry was the last person who should have been drafted. He had had terrible asthma all through grade school; I thought he just wasn’t that healthy or strong enough. Meanwhile at my end, I was getting anxious with the repressive conservatism of my college. By the end of freshman year, Jerry’s letters were trying to cheer me up, asking me what the problem was. I could not have said why at the time.
In one letter, he mentioned that he was cooking in the army, that one morning he had broken hundreds of eggs open to scramble. Then he wrote that he had gotten in the entertainment corps, which relieved me greatly. His letters were now written on ripped-off steno paper, but still funny and lively.
I had a miserable final two years of college when I tried to transfer and couldn’t, had an emotional breakdown. And I had four worse years following college. I wanted to come home and couldn’t find a job, lost track with many high school friends, including Jerry.
But recently, now back home after 40 years away, when I found this trove of letters, I decided to look Jerry up. We got together for an hour with our yearbooks and his letters. (I had to laugh. I had filled two pages of his yearbook just as he had mine, writing on an angle.) And THEN, he opened a scrapbook, with black and white shots of himself onstage, and he told me the wondrous story of the rest of his life in the army:
Jerry was on a plane of soldiers bound for Vietnam, when a woman got on board and said there were too many on the flight. She called the names of several men, including him, and told them to deplane. Once off, they were told that they would be going to Vietnam with the next group in a month.
During that month, Jerry saw a flyer for try-outs for the entertainment corps: singing and dancing try-outs, things Jerry knew he could do. We all knew it. Recently, interviewing classmates about Jerry, Dave Motts said to me, “Oh my gosh, I was so envious of him on the dance floor. When we were all back in town, going out to the bars and clubs, Jerry was always dancing, and he was always so good. I would love to be able to dance like he can dance.”
The next day, Jerry went to try-outs and made the entertainment corps, to no one’s surprise, not even his own, but clearly to his relief. And he spent the next year and a half in entertainment. There, he starred in another production of West Side Story, this time as the lead, Tony. The black and white photos of that production are stunning. AND he was on the road with Bob Hope, an experience that was very exciting for Jerry. (See online accounts here) I told this story at my voting poll this spring, and one of the men said, "That is a great story!" It is.
Once Jerry returned to Ohio, he was as active in performance at home as he had been on the homefront. He performed and did choreography for the Canton Civic Opera for 25 years and was choreographer for the Kent State Stark show choir as well. In the 1990s, he put his talents to work for four musicals at the Canton Palace Theater. He was director, choreographer, and lead in Music Man and George M, and he also directed and choreographed Camelot and Showboat. In addition, he was a vocalist in the quartet "Strictly Four" which performed a lot locally, and were thrilled to be the opening act for The Captain and Tennille when the duo came to town.
Also in the 90s, Jerry met is lifetime partner, James Adams Carrington, at a party, and they've been together ever since, living in a sweet sweet house I visited in Perry Township, where James does the Italian cooking he is famous for.
Bob Hope, USO, Vietnam 1970s, and decades of contributing to performance arts in Stark County! I had no idea Jerry had been up to so much good. It’s what happens when you lose track of classmates. You can lose the best part of their stories. Jerry has had a long and rich life since then. After decades, he retired but soon got bored and went into retail, thinking he would work a few hours selling men clothing at Jos. Banks, but they loved his work, and he’s working full-time now, performing better than ever on the sales floor, and with grrreat costuming!
How can this be such a small town, and yet I seldom if ever see my classmates, we who spent 12 years pent up in the same classrooms, the same cafeteria, the same hallways? It’s why I am such a sucker for reunions, a good chance to catch up on a lot of those people at the same time. Jerry is less sure of that or whether he is going to attend our 50th. I hope so because we’d all loved to see him dance again, but whether or not he does, I am glad for the hour I had to get the story I missed so many years ago. Glad to know he is looking so good, younger than ever, working hard.
Yearbook photo '68 |
First some backstory: Jerry and I both attended Watson Elementary, were in sixth grade with Mrs. Scheub, and then we barely saw each other during junior high and high school until senior year, when we were both in West Side Story. During rehearsals, we had a lot of time sitting around waiting for our scenes to be called—his as A-rab, a Jet, and mine as a Shark. Instead of getting homework done, Jerry and I spent the down time talking--about nothing, really—anything, so as not to be doing homework. He was often anxious, and I would try to cheer him up. Cheerful girl, he used to call me, I am sure at times through gritted teeth.
He filled two full pages of my year book that year with his big, beautiful loopy angled
handwriting, writing about the goofiness we all filled our yearbooks with at length.
In the our year following graduation, I went off to college two hours away from home, which had been my dream, and Jerry got drafted into the army. In March 1969, I received my first letter from him in basic training, a beautiful example of terrific letter-writing: written on beautiful pale turquoise stationary with two watermarks of soldiers hoisting weapons and backpacks and scanning the horizon. And so well-written! Funny and witty, despite the fact that in those days, basic training probably was not all that funny and wit-inspiring.
At the time I complained to friends that Jerry was the last person who should have been drafted. He had had terrible asthma all through grade school; I thought he just wasn’t that healthy or strong enough. Meanwhile at my end, I was getting anxious with the repressive conservatism of my college. By the end of freshman year, Jerry’s letters were trying to cheer me up, asking me what the problem was. I could not have said why at the time.
In one letter, he mentioned that he was cooking in the army, that one morning he had broken hundreds of eggs open to scramble. Then he wrote that he had gotten in the entertainment corps, which relieved me greatly. His letters were now written on ripped-off steno paper, but still funny and lively.
I had a miserable final two years of college when I tried to transfer and couldn’t, had an emotional breakdown. And I had four worse years following college. I wanted to come home and couldn’t find a job, lost track with many high school friends, including Jerry.
But recently, now back home after 40 years away, when I found this trove of letters, I decided to look Jerry up. We got together for an hour with our yearbooks and his letters. (I had to laugh. I had filled two pages of his yearbook just as he had mine, writing on an angle.) And THEN, he opened a scrapbook, with black and white shots of himself onstage, and he told me the wondrous story of the rest of his life in the army:
Jerry was on a plane of soldiers bound for Vietnam, when a woman got on board and said there were too many on the flight. She called the names of several men, including him, and told them to deplane. Once off, they were told that they would be going to Vietnam with the next group in a month.
During that month, Jerry saw a flyer for try-outs for the entertainment corps: singing and dancing try-outs, things Jerry knew he could do. We all knew it. Recently, interviewing classmates about Jerry, Dave Motts said to me, “Oh my gosh, I was so envious of him on the dance floor. When we were all back in town, going out to the bars and clubs, Jerry was always dancing, and he was always so good. I would love to be able to dance like he can dance.”
The next day, Jerry went to try-outs and made the entertainment corps, to no one’s surprise, not even his own, but clearly to his relief. And he spent the next year and a half in entertainment. There, he starred in another production of West Side Story, this time as the lead, Tony. The black and white photos of that production are stunning. AND he was on the road with Bob Hope, an experience that was very exciting for Jerry. (See online accounts here) I told this story at my voting poll this spring, and one of the men said, "That is a great story!" It is.
Once Jerry returned to Ohio, he was as active in performance at home as he had been on the homefront. He performed and did choreography for the Canton Civic Opera for 25 years and was choreographer for the Kent State Stark show choir as well. In the 1990s, he put his talents to work for four musicals at the Canton Palace Theater. He was director, choreographer, and lead in Music Man and George M, and he also directed and choreographed Camelot and Showboat. In addition, he was a vocalist in the quartet "Strictly Four" which performed a lot locally, and were thrilled to be the opening act for The Captain and Tennille when the duo came to town.
Also in the 90s, Jerry met is lifetime partner, James Adams Carrington, at a party, and they've been together ever since, living in a sweet sweet house I visited in Perry Township, where James does the Italian cooking he is famous for.
Bob Hope, USO, Vietnam 1970s, and decades of contributing to performance arts in Stark County! I had no idea Jerry had been up to so much good. It’s what happens when you lose track of classmates. You can lose the best part of their stories. Jerry has had a long and rich life since then. After decades, he retired but soon got bored and went into retail, thinking he would work a few hours selling men clothing at Jos. Banks, but they loved his work, and he’s working full-time now, performing better than ever on the sales floor, and with grrreat costuming!
How can this be such a small town, and yet I seldom if ever see my classmates, we who spent 12 years pent up in the same classrooms, the same cafeteria, the same hallways? It’s why I am such a sucker for reunions, a good chance to catch up on a lot of those people at the same time. Jerry is less sure of that or whether he is going to attend our 50th. I hope so because we’d all loved to see him dance again, but whether or not he does, I am glad for the hour I had to get the story I missed so many years ago. Glad to know he is looking so good, younger than ever, working hard.
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