Class Writing Prompt Gets Personal -- Warning: This Ends with an Obituary

Today I subbed for my friend Beth. I met with her Writing 115 class and started by reading them "The Masked Marvel's Last Toe-hold" by Richard Selzer.

It's a narrative essay depicting Dr. Richard Selzer's experience of amputating former wrestler Elihu Koontz's legs. It's an excellent story of power and the loss or exchange of it, of shifted roles, of love and compassion. It's one of my favorite essays ever and Beth's students analyzed it beautifully.

They analyzed for structure, use of details, language, repetition, and thesis.

Then I asked them to write. I asked them to take risks they might not usually take, but were inspired to by Selzer's piece. I asked them to think about their details, possible repetitions, the use of memories. Here's what we came up with as a prompt: Describe someone you knew in their prime and where they are now.

After 20 minutes of writing, here are some of the essay topics students wrote about:

*One man wrote about the uncle he adored throughout childhood. He wrote of following his uncle around as he fixed cars, played guitar, drew cartoons. He wrote of how his uncle joined the Air Force and came back in his uniform. The writer was a teenager by then, but still followed him around admiring every aspect of him. Then his uncle was diagnosed with cancer and ultimately succumbed to it. This writer tried not to show emotion as he shared his writing, but his words showed it. When he finished, he told me he'd be saving that piece of writing, as he's never written it out before.

*Another writer took another approach. She wrote about "The High School Slut," which we all laughed about. However, what she wrote was poignant. She wrote that this girl had had two babies in high school, one at 15 and one at 17. A medical emergency led to the removal of her uterus at age 20, though, and the "slut" realized she never would have had those children had she not had babies in her teens. She became grateful. In turn, she's now a grandmother of 12 and is a happy, solid family woman, and is one of the writer's dearest friends.

Those are just a couple examples.

I love how good writing inspires us to go deep, to push ourselves beyond what we would normally sit down to focus on in writing.

I wrote along with them. I didn't know this prompt was going to lead me to write about this, but it did. It's rough; it could use better details and imagery; it could show more and tell less. But I'll share it anyway. It makes me quite sad.

***

My friend Kevin S. killed himself last week. This has brought me great sadness.

In high school, Kevin was this vibrant, chatty, smiling, busy person. He used to ski with his pals and tease my friend Tracy that she was the only skier he knew who wore perfume and hair spray on the slopes. He also used to hug everybody. In fact, every time he came over to my house, my step-dad would say, "Why's that guy always hugging you?" We used to laugh about this, but the truth was it was fabulous to get hugs from Kevin. There was no threatening undercurrent of a sexual come-on. Really, it was just that Kevin had a lot of love to share and his hugs meant he really liked you. I don't think it got any simpler than that.

After high school, Kevin went on to college at WWU as did a lot of his high school friends. There, he kept close tabs on all his friends, bicycling, skiing, going to the movies, arranging crazy group events like In-N-Out runs to California or U2 concerts in Canada. He even drummed up The Rosebud Society, a weekly poetry-reading event by candlelight on his living room floor.

After Kevin and all his friends eventually graduated from college, he continued to live an interesting life. He bicycled across America. He took a long-awaited trip to Ireland with his mother, who was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. He got a job as a high school math teacher.

Somewhere in there, though, he started to isolate himself from friends and family and colleagues. For the next ten years, I hear he essentially stayed in his basement, stepping out rarely. It's said he used his computer round the clock, but without any interactions with his old friends. Old friends saw him occasionally. Mick and I even saw him 5 years ago right before we left for San Francisco and dental school. Kevin crawled out of his cave briefly, overweight and quieter, to join us in a little barbecue. We'd hoped his re-surfacing had meant he'd be engaging in a physical social life again. But that didn't happen.

A few weeks ago, some of his other good pals stopped by to see him. They said Kevin was obese, pizza boxes lay strewn everywhere, and his ankles and feet were ashen gray. One friend says, "I'm a counselor. Why didn't I see what was coming?"

Later that month, news spread over the phone and Facebook that Kevin S. was dead. I learned he had taken his own life.

You should've seen all the posts of sadness, of sweet memories, of mourning the loss of a person so special to so many.

In the aftermath of such news, I can't help but reflect on the joy and zest Kevin held for life in the years I was close to him. I can't help but wonder why he cut himself off from his friends and chose to live in seclusion. But I am sure intuitively that the mere fact that he lived in solitude in a basement meant he was no longer giving out hugs -- and that alone might have just made his heart shrivel up and ache to be done with it all.

Rest in peace, Kevin. Rosebud...

Goodbye, #22

Last night my old friend Larry from high school left me a message to call him. Larry's wife is sick and due to have a kidney transplant, so I was worried he might have bad news.

He had bad news, but it wasn't about Tammy. It was about Brian Drugge (pronounced "druggy").

Turns out, Brian Drugge died of colon cancer this week. He was 39.

Brian was this really quiet, really amazing athlete who went to our high school. He was short, like 5'5", and was thick and swift-footed and easy-going. He started on varsity teams for baseball and football - and he always wore the number 22.

He had this noticeable sweet adoration from his teammates, and I don't think I ever heard a bad word about him. From anyone.

It was so hard to hear that Larry, perhaps like a lot of Brian's old buddies, was so sad that he didn't even know Brian was suffering. "Why didn't I know?" Larry asks during our phone call. "Why didn't he tell any of us, so we could..." Larry couldn't finish.

"So you could show him you cared?" I venture.

Larry's quiet. "Yeah..."

The other thing that makes me sad is knowing how colon cancer ravages the body. Brian's death reminds me of my dad's 52-year-old bird frame, all elbows and knuckles and teeth, after colon cancer ravaged his 6'3" body.

Brian was so compact and broad and muscular. I picture him reduced to that smallness and stillness and think it's just so contrary to what most of us ever knew him to be. I can't shake that image from my head.

He's survived by parents, siblings, a wife, 3 daughters. That's heartbreaking, too.

Rest in Peace, Brian Drugge. Even those of us far away still think of you fondly.

*
Friends, if you have anything to add, please share. (Karen?)

20th Reunion Pre-Funk

Held at The Ram (so fitting - Go Rams!) in Puyallup, Friday night

This isn't a very clear picture above, but it needs to be in here because it shows exactly how Mick spent the evening at my Unofficial Pre-Funk. He's there with Tanya and Brian Hope. Tanya graduated with my class and married her older brother Ty's best friend (class of '87), Brian Hope. (Brian was also my first boyfriend in high school, and we like to laugh about that.)

Tanya didn't plan to go to the reunion, so when Mick found that out he sent Brian a note: "Brian, why aren't you going to our 20-year reunion???" Of course, the reason that's funny is because it was neither Mick's nor Brian's reunion, but they're two guys who would act like it was. Brian wrote back that he was bummed they'd be missing it, and that maybe he could talk Tanya into going to the unofficial one on Friday night.

So, there they are above, sitting and being silly for the evening. Mick introduced himself a couple times as "Jo-Jo" from Rogers, feigning surprise when no one recognized him. And then generally had fun joking around with Brian and Tanya and Karen at that table. (I didn't sit with them -- I had too many people to run around and catch up with! Karen did too, actually, so she wasn't always there. Tanya, on the other hand, was very comfortable sitting like a queen at her throne waiting for people to come to her!) The other guy in the picture above is Steve Oberhofer; I sang with him in Choir. He now lives in Hawaii and loves it.

Tonsil check.

My two best friends ever.


Yeah, I brought the creepy guy.

Tracy Wolmacher, Brandi Bilby and Christine German. Brandi used to be the totally hot stuff babe on campus; Chris and Tracy were these tiny little cute girls that were always together on campus, walking super close with their heads together, giggling with their hands over their mouths.


Gary Sarlund. The only thing that's different about Gare-Bear is that he's got a goatee and his shoulders are a little broader. Even the tuck of snuff in his lower lip is the same. And that's what we all love about Gary -- he's the totally loyal, totally sweet, huggy happy fella we can all count on. Now Gary's an electrician like his dad, married, and has a little boy he says is already smarter than him. See? What's there not to love about a fella like that?


With Mike Peters. It was so much fun to see Mike. I swear he was about 5 inches shorter in school. He says he was always 6 foot, but I think he must've slouched or something back then. Mike reminded me that he came to my house once after a Key Club meeting and knocked at the front door. When Don opened it, Mike said, "Hey, is Anjie home?" and Don looked at his watch and said, "Do you know what time it is?" Mike looked at his watch and said, "Uh, yeah, 9 o'clock?" And Don said, "Yeah, 9 o'clock on a school night," and turned poor Mike away! This was a sweetie-pie good boy Key Clubber Cross Country Runner -- and he never came back!

I told Don that story and he says he feels awful now. I took that to mean Mike was welcome to swing by their house any time he wanted to now, and I told him so the next night. Ha ha.



This is Jay Hansen. Not a close friend at all in high school, but a nice enough guy. The end.

Christina Mendoza arranged the Pre-Funk at The Ram.

Larry Aegerter and his awesome wife, Tammy. Between the two of them they have six (maybe seven?) kids and seem to have a really strong marriage. Larry's still totally tough and adorable, a marial arts master and contractor with the military; Tammy stays home and homeschools their kids. She's currently waiting for her second kidney transplant.


We love Cheese! Jason "Cheese" Bisig here with Karen and me. We used to have all kinds of fun with Jason and Buddy (he didn't show) in Jazz Choir. They were totally obnoxious but loveable and we used to ride around in Jay's little Manza. In junior high, Jason used to come over and we'd stand on my grandparents' motorhome in the driveway and shoot baskets. He was a super fun pal to have.

Jason, Gary and Karen.

Here I am flanked by two amazing sopranos, Karen (left) and Carrie Chappel.

Karen, me and Carrie again. It was funny, I got to briefly meet Carrie's 10-year-old daughter Elena earlier that night. She stood next to her mom, saying, "Heh heh, they have Buttface Beer here. Heh heh. Buttface beer." Now, of course, that's a little gross and all, etc., etc., but the funny thing is that she acted exactly like Carrie would've acted as a kid! I met Carrie in 8th grade and she was always doing some sort of "Heh heh" kind of thing. Meeting Elena totally cracked me up.

Aw, here we are with our buddy Colin, a.k.a. C-Train.

C-Train and Cheese.

With Dori Johnson. Dori and I played junior high sports together - and then she got pregnant and we lived two very different lives. (Hi Dori!) I've come into recent contact with her again, though, and am really enjoying her. She's been a mother more than half her life, which is totally trippy, and parts of her life have been very complicated. Through it, I'm amazed at how her perspective has developed so fully. She has A LOT of brilliant things to say. She's educated herself on political issues, and takes some really amazing stands -- on health care especially. She writes them on a blog, and I admire her thoughtfulness and her articulate writing.

Maybe that's what's so much fun about a 20-year reunion: we can rehash the ways we used to be, and revel in the ways those 20 years have shaped us in unexpected and exciting ways.

I still have to post pics from the official reunion - but I'll do that tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next...

Oh, and I'll totally try to use the word totally as much as possible. It is, after all, flashback to 1989 time.