There have been moments in my life that passed so quickly that I recall few details of them. Mostly those intervals have been free of tragedies or major challenges. Thus it was during the early nineteen seventies. The shocking deaths of my young cousin, Sandra, and my equally young Uncle Andrew had reminded me too much of the fragility of life. In a sense I went underground after they were gone, focused on my little family with every drop of my energy. 

Mike was doing well at the bank and our days were blessedly quiet and uneventful, a welcome change to the previous couple of years. The national news was filled with stories of Nixon’s reelection and hints of a strange break-in at the Watergate Hotel in Washington D. C. Mike and I had been among the decidedly small number of people who voted for George McGovern in 1972, when I was finally old enough to vote in a presidential race. I still have the campaign buttons from McGovern who ran one of the most disastrous campaigns of all time. His anti-war position, lack of charisma and fumbling mistakes led to his downfall even as Nixon and his minions worried about what the Democrats might be planning. The bungled attempted burglary at the Watergate would soon become one of the biggest political stories of the time. 

The trial of the Watergate burglars began in January of 1973. After many weeks of testimony there were still nagging questions about what had really happened and who had been responsible for the fiasco. In May of the same year Congressional hearings began with television coverage that became a nightly viewing routine for me and Mike. As fledgling voters and history buffs we became mesmerized by the members of the committee chaired by Sam Ervin, a Democrat, and assisted by ranking Republican, Howard Baker. The purpose of the gathering was to investigate “illegal, improper or unethical conduct” occurring during the 1972 presidential election. It was a real time thriller that stunned the two of us and the nation as well as key figures testified about dirty tricks that we had never before imagined. In many ways the hearings became a coming of age moment for the two of us. 

We had moved to a newer and more modern apartment around this time. I had grown weary of climbing stairs with Maryellen’s stroller and other gear. The new place was downstairs centered on a lovely courtyard away from the noise of busy streets. The rooms were larger and the amenities more conducive to family living. It would be in this place that I encountered women quite unlike any I had known before and I would learn so much from them. They were practical down to earth unpretentious souls who might best be described as the salt of the earth. 

We were all staying home with our small children so we shared our common role with gatherings each day while we watched our little ones ride their tricycles or run in the grassy area that stretched in front of our apartments. The women came from places like White Plains, New York and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania that had heretofore only been dots on a map to me. They had profound common sense and the kind of homegrown knowledge that had belonged to my grandmother Minnie Bell. I spent most of the time just listening to them, learning from them, becoming a better person because of them. It was a glorious time of growth for me and best of all everyone in my family was finally doing well. The lull in tragedies or challenges helped me to focus on becoming a more fully defined woman.

I had always felt awkward and unsure of myself but this band of women taught me how to hold my head high. They showed me how to be confident in just being me. Debbie and Rosie and Diane would only be in my life for a brief moment in time before they moved, but their impact on me would be forever. In fact, I vividly remember the very day when I looked in the mirror at my image and smiled because I liked the person that I saw in that reflection. Somehow I felt a certainty for the first time that I had a purpose that was important. I saw the direction of my life laid out before me and I was no longer making decisions based on how I thought others wanted me to be. It was a gloriously freeing time. 

Linda, my friend from high school and college, and I often got together with our children. She had a son named Scott who was a beautiful blonde headed boy with a sweet personality. He had Maryellen got along magnificently. I would learn much from Linda as well. Then there was Cappy who had married one of Mike’s good friends and my cousins in law, the two Susans. My calendar was filled with visits and outings. I even reunited with my childhood friend, Lynda, who also had a son who loved playing with Maryellen.

When spring came in 1973, I learned that I was once again pregnant. I looked forward to having another child with my new found confidence. I shared my joy with the ladies who lived near me and with my family and long time friends. Life was full for me and my family. Mama enjoyed her job at the University of Texas Health Science Center and had regained her confidence and optimism. Michael was doing well at Rice University and Pat was moving steadily through high school making dozens of friends with his characteristic charisma. The veil of sadness that had seemed to cover me for so long was suddenly lifted and I reveled in the feelings of joy. When I turned twenty five that year I was finally myself, a woman unafraid to speak my mind and follow my own dreams.