THE END OF AN ERA

There in that grainy black and white photo of the Wesleyan Drama Club in 1962 are my closest friends from that special time in my life.  On the left is Mr. Russell, who hated being photographed, and next to him is me looking tired as I always was in those days.  Most of the girls in the picture were set to graduate in 1963 and my closest friends, Linda and Bootsie, married two days apart at the end of that school year

And our beloved director, Mr. Russell, was fired and we never learned why.  I am not even sure that he knew.  He was an extraordinary director and an excellent drama teacher whom we all respected.  All of us were stunned and Mr. Russell looked shell-shocked.  I began to wonder if I even wanted to return for my senior year since my closest friends would all be gone.

The school year sped to a close.  There were exams to take, clothes to pack,  bridesmaid dresses to make, shoes to be dyed and of course, plans to be made for the summer.  I was to be a Junior Marshal at Graduation and then go straight to Tifton for Bootsie's wedding.  The next day I would travel to South Carolina for Linda's wedding and then take the train to Asbury Park, NJ, where I hoped to work as a waitress for the summer.  There would be no time to go home.  My mother had inexplicably gone to New York with my little brother, Jim, while my dad and my other two brothers, Rick and Bill, remained at home.  Everything in my life was changing at lightning speed.

Just before he left town three of us went to Mr. Russell's apartment to say goodbye.  We stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.  He had found a job in another state and would leave the following day to find an apartment.  Finally, my two friends each said goodbye, promising to write, then went out to the car, crying.  I just stood there like a lost soul not wanting to leave.

Mr. Russell smiled wistfully and said a line from Medea.  "The world has turned and turned sharp!"  I nodded, unable to speak.  We held each other for a few moments and I knew I had to leave.  We wrote, of course we wrote, but I never saw him again.

Medea from the 1963 Veterropt, Wesleyan College