My time in high school seemed to fly by quickly. Suddenly I was a senior looking forward to graduating and attending college. From the age of eight I had grown up on Belmark Street with Mama and my two brothers. Our mother had created a loving environment in which the three of us thrived. Our aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, neighbors and friends had embraced and supported us. We felt safe, secure and loved. Now the adult world was calling me and I was ready to follow. 

My senior year was a whirlwind of activity. I was the news editor of our school newspaper, an assignment that initially disappointed me because I was hoping to be in charge of the literary page which became the domain of my friend, Claudia. I also longed to be the general editor so that I might write the opinion pieces but for whatever reason our sponsor saw me as someone more capable of reporting the news. In retrospect I suspect that she got it right. 

I also became the president of the Medical Careers Club even though I secretly began to question my interest in medicine. The truth was that I was totally confused about what kind of career I wanted to follow. I had no interest in business or engineering and I actually had little idea of what kind of careers were possible. Women were only beginning to actively consider jobs that had once been the domain of men, and they were often faced with pushback. In my heart I wanted to be a journalist, but my writing was still tentative. I was afraid to let the real me shine forth in my words. I was as confused about the next steps in life as anyone ever has been, so I simply enjoyed my final year of high school with gusto. 

I had been a member of the Student Council for three years and decided to throw my hat in the ring for Student Body Secretary. I pushed myself to be less shy and to approach everyone during the campaign. I worked for days on the speech that I had to deliver to the entire school. I had been enjoying being a fearless member of the debate team but I soon realized that speaking in front a a few judges was much easier than looking out on an audience of hundreds of people. My voice wavered and my right leg became limp as I held onto the podium. I was making sounds, but wondering the entire time if I was going to pass out before the end of my speech. Somehow I made it through the ordeal but my foray into politics ended up being unsuccessful which turned out to be exactly as it should have been. I was not yet ready or confident enough for such a job.

I had worked so hard to do well in my studies that my habits for getting things accomplished had become routine. I approached learning the way my father had taught me. I saw it as something quite enjoyable rather than an onerous task. I had stayed at the top of the class each year in a secret honor to my father who had always believed in me and my abilities. Being the valedictorian of the class was a personal goal, not one predicated on receiving scholarships or achieving glory. It was my way of letting my father know that I had learned from him. 

Each Friday evening I attended the school football games. I had become the official announcer for the Carmel Cadets drill team. It was a fun gig that allowed me to watch the games with my friends and then be the voice behind the Cadet performance. It was also so frivolously fun that I felt the most like a normal American teenager on those nights. I’d hitch a ride with my friends Susan or Eileen or Nancy and we would have a rollicking time.

I have to admit that I was so busy as a senior that I hardly interacted with my family. I missed lots of Friday nights at Grandma Ulrich’s house and on Saturdays I was either at the weekly dances held at the school or out and about with my friends. While I was busying myself with becoming more and more independent my mother joined a club for single parents called Parents Without Partners. She attended the meetings and socials with a neighbor, Kathleen, whose husband had quite suddenly and unexpectedly died. The two of them had fun together getting out of the house and meeting new people. They were both beautiful and outgoing women who attracted attention wherever they went. 

My brothers were doing their own things as well. Michael had a stable of friends who were bright and had interests similar to his. He was in the eighth grade and his teachers had finally realized what an amazing student he was. His mathematical abilities were over the moon and he was already focusing on a future career in engineering. His buddies gathered regularly at our house charming us all with their earnest outlooks on life. 

Pat had friends all over the neighborhood. He was fun and likable and had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. If ever there was a real life character like Tom Sawyer, it was Pat. He had an unstoppable wit and a creative bent that reminded me so much of our father. He even began to resemble Daddy more and more as he grew older. He was the perfect balance for the seriousness of Mike and me.

With the end of my school year came recruitment and offers of scholarships from college that I did not even know existed. Back in 1966, most high school students had little knowledge of the process of admissions. I only knew that Claudia and I wanted to attend the University of Houston and so I had only applied there. My acceptance was automatic as was hers. In the meantime I was inundated with letters from Georgetown University, Universtiy of Notre Dame, Catholic University of America, the University of St. Thomas, the University of Dallas and Texas Tech. Each of them promised me a free ride if I would attend. While I was flattered by the attention I understood that my situation was more complex than most. There was no way that my family would be able to afford to send me back and forth to far away schools even if I had every other expense paid once I got there. I was also still only seventeen and had rarely travelled anywhere save for our long journey to California and back and our visits to see our grandparents in Arkansas. Staying in town was the most reasonable option given my circumstances and I was impressed by what I had seen of the University of Houston. Furthermore had yet to decide on my major, so UH gave me the flexibility to try different areas of study before making a solid commitment. 

After the usual end of year traditions like a senior trip to a dude ranch, Junior/Senior night, the Awards Ceremony, the Senior play, it was graduation day. I was filled with mixed emotions and hardly heard the speakers on that day. On the one hand I was ready to venture into the next phase of life, on the other hand I felt as though I was jumping blindfolded off of a cliff. Everything was changing and I was unsure of how I felt. I suppose that in that regard I was like everyone else in my class. It was like saying a final farewell to my childhood. The rest of my life stood before me and I had no idea where that would lead.