st. paul’s school – Kelley Eskridge

Seniority

This is the first time I’ve ever played meme, but I was tagged by Alex and I just couldn’t resist this one.

IN YOUR SENIOR YEAR…

1. Did you date someone from your school? Yes, I dated Scott Elder. I got my first speeding ticket driving his car when he, his friend Harry and I drove from graduation to a party at Stan O’Grady’s summer house in New Jersey. I was doing about 7,000 mph and a cop pulled me over. I was shaking so badly I couldn’t find my driver’s license in my purse, and so rattled that I said “Oh, fuck” out loud and then had to apologize to the policeman. I think he was vastly amused. He let me go with a warning.

I still speed. Clearly, I did not learn my lesson that day.

2. Did you marry someone from your high school? Oh my goodness, no. It’s eyebrow-raising to think how different my life would be right now.

3. Did you carpool to school? No, I went to a prep school in New England, and lived in various dorms for the four years I was there.

4. What kind of car did you have? Checker Taxi was everyone’s car, we weren’t allowed to have cars on campus.

5. What kind of car do you have now? A 1993 Toyota Paseo.

6. Its Friday night…where are you now? At home with my sweetie.

7. It is Friday night…where were you then? In my room doing homework (we had Saturday morning classes), or in the Coffeehouse, the student hangout on campus, smoking cigarettes and drinking Coca-Cola.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school? We weren’t allowed to have paid jobs while we were in school, but there was a rotating system of work. Let’s see. I waited on tables at dinner at least 3 times. We had 4 “seated meals” a week, with an assigned table presided over by a faculty member. Students got a new table assignment every week. If you were a waiter, you did it for an entire term. It sounds hokey, but it was actually a really good system for meeting other kids, other faculty, practicing social skills, and just basically staying engaged with the wider community.

I also washed dishes several nights, raked leaves… I think that’s about it.

During summers, I made some money by working with my dad at the Tri-County Fair in Northhampton, MA. Maybe more about that someday in a post.

9. What kind of job do you do now? I write fiction, essays and screenplays. And I’m the Managing Partner of Humans At Work, LLC.

10. Were you a party animal? In sophomore and junior year, I certainly did my share of partying. But I was elected secretary of the senior class, and class officers were expected to model good behavior, which included not breaking the rules. And so for most of the year, I kept myself out of the parties, which meant that I was far out of the mainstream of weekend social interaction. It was actually really hard. Finally, in late spring, after an undefeated crew season, I said Oh, fuck this and went to the ginormous crew celebration party and drank a lot, and it was great. I wish I’d done it sooner.

11. Were you considered a flirt? Oh, yikes, no. I was very shy and reserved. I wanted to be a flirt but didn’t have any of the body confidence required.

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? Nope.

13. Were you a nerd? No.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled? No. But one of my responsibilities as a class officer was to serve as an advisory member on the school Disciplinary Committee (faculty did all the voting), and people did get suspended/expelled on my watch (although not on my advice — I thought expulsion ought to be reserved for things like assault, not drugs or alcohol).

15. Can you sing the fight song? We did not have one, for which I am grateful.

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)? M. Hurtgen, Mr. Katzenbach, Mr. Davis (as a coach, I never had him as a teacher), Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Lederer, M. Duguay.

17. Where did you sit during lunch? With friends if any of them happened to be in the cafeteria at the same time — we all had individual schedules, it was more like college than like public HS that way. But I always had a book with me and was happy to read over lunch.

18. What was your school’s full name? St. Paul’s School.

19. When did you graduate? 1978.

20. What was your school mascot? None. I think mascots are strange.

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you? If I had to go back and repeat high school, I would absolutely go back and do SPS again. In a heartbeat. Going there is still one of the five best choices I’ve ever made.

22. Did you have fun at Prom? Well, we didn’t really have an official prom. We did throw ourselves a big spring dance, but it was open to the whole school. I went with Scott. He had been drinking, and at one point we were dancing to a disco song (it was the 70’s, we were allowed), and he tried to dip me and dropped me instead.

23. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with? No, which is too bad. We’ve never attended reunions at the same time. Last I heard, he was married with 3 kids and working in Hong Kong.

Actually, I’d really like to talk to Jordie, my first boyfriend at school. But he won’t respond to my emails. I hurt his feelings badly, and have regretted it for years. I’d also like to talk to John.

24. Are you planning on going to your next reunion? I’d like to, but it’s a long trip. We’ll see. I always have a good time.

25. Do you still talk to people from school? Absolutely. Our class actually has a private email group, and we’re planning a service project in Concord NH (where the school is located) to get together and help build a public-assistance dental clinic (similar to a Habitat for Humanity project). I hope I can be part of that.

26. School colors? Maroon and white.

27. What celebrities came from your high school? Tons. Rich elite New England prep school, after all. Judd Nelson, John Stockwell, Michael Kennedy, John Kerry, Rick Moody, Gary Trudeau, the list goes on.

I’m not tagging people — I’m just no fun that way — but feel free to comment if you want to tell a high school story, or leave a link to your blog if you decide to answer these questions.

Not this year(2) – 30th reunion

A series of posts about things I thought or hoped or feared I would do in 2008.

At the end of May, when Nicola and I are in LA reading, drinking, meeting folks and taking the sun (at least I hope so — it just started snowing again here, clearly the weather is broken), my 30th high school reunion will happen on the campus of the boarding school in New Hampshire that I attended for four years. Since we don’t have transporters yet, I’ll miss it. (Note to Scientists: where is all the Star Trek technology that was supposed to make my life so convenient?)

I had a blast at my 25th reunion. I hope the 30th will be as great for the folks who are there.

Things I will miss about this reunion:

Seeing old friends — Nora, Holly, Els, John and Beret, Carolyn, Edie, Hobson.

Here are some pictures of some of us at the 25th reunion in 2003.

Seeing the school — So much beauty. But it’s a different place now, too, and that is both right and a bit hard. It’s not “my school” anymore. (Hmm. I seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now about things that are no longer mine… see previous post about Wiscon.) But my school is alive in me in the way of the best memory — so vibrant and integral that even the changed reality doesn’t dislodge it. I don’t know… it’s funny how being there for the 25th and seeing the graduating students made me so conscious of my age and at the same time feel like 17 again.

Being in the boat — I have to preface this by saying that I am the least athletic person I know. So it’s very funny that I have a JV and a Varsity letter in anything, especially crew. It’s even more funny when you know that I was the tallest cox in the world and therefore weighed more (even at 110 pounds I was at least 20 pounds heavier than a cox was supposed to be). But the women who rowed in my boats were amazing, strong, focused, and so gutsy… (no pun intended, since rowing is the kind of sport where people throw up over the side of the boat when the race is over, especially if they’ve been rowing hard enough to win).

We were a great crew, and at these reunions we gather whoever is there from the original crew, round up other willing folk to fill the open slots, and go out on the water together again. The faculty person in charge of the boats that day always looks nervous as hell in the repressed But we can’t piss off the alumni way. Nora, who was the stroke of our boat, always has to remind me of at least one vocabulary term. And every time, the women of the crew are so beautiful on the water. We had so many powerful moments in that boat, training and winning and learning to pull together. My experience with crew is still one of the Great Happy Anomalies of my life.

I’ve written about the 25th reunion and my experience at school at length over the years, and have imported those posts from the Virtual Pint section of my old website for anyone who’s interested.

In chronological and conversational order:

Enjoy. And if you’d like to start a conversation, please do so — it’s easy. Or come back later and use the link on the sidebar, and let’s talk. Some of the stories and realizations that have been most important to me over the years have come directly out of these online conversations, and I’m always grateful for them.

Wonderland

Kelley, sounds like you had a lovely time at St. Paul’s. Thanks for sharing the article by Jana Brown on how your teaching and acceptance was seen by the students and the staff.

Sly

It was a great time, and a dream come true for me. Those of you who have been visiting the pub for a while know that St. Paul’s is very special to me. Going back as a writer in residence was a chance for me to reconnect at many different levels.

I got there on a Saturday night after a Very Long Trip ( Seattle to Concord, NH is not the easiest journey, especially in February). My first event was scheduled for Sunday evening, so during the day Sunday I was on my own, which was great. I went to brunch in the school cafeteria; indulged myself with my adolescent breakfast of toast, peanut butter, bacon and tea; and watched the students come and go. Brought back many memories.

This isn’t a “glory days” thing, I wasn’t exactly one of the hip kids in high school: it’s more that for me, St. Paul’s was an absolute wonderland. Do you know the story of the Little Match Girl? What if the wall had opened for her and someone had invited her in, given her a seat near the fire and a lovely plate of roast goose, maybe a squashy chocolate bun, had overlooked her bad clothes and complete lack of awareness of Sax Fifth Avenue? That’s how St. Paul’s felt to me. Maybe this sounds exaggerated, but I promise, it’s not. For a kid like me, prep school was as unimaginable as flying to the moon, and when I understood what it was, what it could be, I wanted it more fiercely than I had ever wanted anything in my short life. Not all my memories of school are wonderful, but they are all…I don’t know what word to use. Embedded, maybe. My time at St. Paul’s is stamped into me like the maker’s mark on silver.

On Sunday night I did a reading for faculty, staff and students: as a special (well, at least for me) gift, I read the first chapter of the new novel, which only Nicola had seen up to that point. Afterwards, a member of faculty hosted a dinner party. A couple of students invited me to join them and their friends in their dorm basement to talk and listen to music, but I couldn’t because I was already committed to the dinner. I thoroughly enjoyed it – there were teachers at the table who were teaching when I was a student, and it was fantastic to connect with them as a peer – but I also wish so much that I could have spent that time with those students.

On Monday, I taught five classes. How did it go? Who knows? (grin). My head was spinning by the end of the day. It was odd to be on the teaching side of the equation, but I enjoyed it. I wish I’d had more time (my visit had to be shortened because of a school holiday), and I wish there had been more chance for me to connect with students in more personal ways. I think some students found a few things helpful, and some were probably bored rigid. I’d do a couple of things differently the next time around, but in general I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself, and so was happy.

The students were amazing. I fell in love with all of them: attentive, eclectic, good haircuts and shoes, great manners; the entire spectrum of teenage body language (everything from I so rock to I am so not here); questioning minds that have been encouraged to think, to range, to take a few chances and make some leaps. It’s a different school from the one I went to in many ways, but that part is exactly the same.

And it’s so beautiful there. Still a wonderland. There’s a part of me that will never get over that place.

Reunion

Greetings and cheers to everyone in the Dream Pub. This one is my round, while I explain where I’ve been – up to my ears in ASL studies and events, banging my head against the new book, and working on a project, more about which below. Lots of doing with not enough time for thinking or feeling or just being, until recently.

Some of it’s just timing, the conjunction of: end of the term in ASL school with the attendant papers and exams and commitments; the latest issue of the newsletter that I do layout for; a certain number of happy but inconvenient social activities; and emotional and practical preparations for a Big Event.

Last weekend I went to my 25th high school reunion at St. Paul’s School in Concord, New Hampshire. Exuberance alert: my years at school were an incredibly special time and place for me, and I am still bubbling from my reunion experience. I will not dwell on the relative unhappiness of grammar school, although if anyone really wants to hear the story of the 4th grade history teacher, just ask… And from that, I went to four years of living and learning and growing in a place of privilege and dreams. To this socially isolated low-income kid from the South, it was Narnia. I walked through an unexpected door into a magical place where I could dare to connect, learn how to think, practice autonomy, flex my imagination, use my brains. Challenge my assumptions. Invent a self I liked better. Change my prospects. A place where I had some measure of personal power. All of this tucked away in nearly 2,000 acres of old brick buildings and woods and lakes and sky, where it was dark enough at night to see the stars and I always felt safe.

Of course, it mattered that I didn’t have the right clothes or vacation destinations. I learned some hard lessons about different worlds, about class and status and behavior. I experienced the impact of other people’s assumptions. I made a lot of assumptions of my own. Blah, blah. Going there was one of the five best decisions I’ve ever made. It shaped me in ways I’m still learning to understand.

So: it’s 25 years later and here comes the reunion. There was no question about going: it’s been on my radar for a couple of years. I decided several months ago that I’d like to give a gift to my Form (i.e. my class, the Form of 1978) – a compilation CD of music that was playing in our dorms, our dances, in the Coffeehouse where we went to smoke cigarettes at night. The organizers liked the idea well enough that it became one of the official reunion mementos. So for the last couple of months I’ve been selecting music (my choices and suggestions from classmates), editing the mix into a 2-CD set, and making an insert booklet and labels. The booklet includes a high-school photo of everyone I could find, roughly 125 people.

I had a great time doing this. It was a huge amount of work, but that’s what makes it a gift. And it helped me be ready to go into the reunion with my arms and mind and heart wide open, and no expectations. Even though I didn’t exchange more than a few words with some of these folks for the entire time we were in school, we were still a part of the fabric of each other’s daily lives. We lived in dorms together. We ate our meals in each other’s company. We were on teams and in clubs and at the Coffeehouse together. We passed each other in various stages of inebriation on the way to or from the woods on Saturday nights. We grew up together, and what I learned this weekend is that it matters. In some ways these people are my family.

So here we came, more than half of us, mostly happy with ourselves, eager to see each other, with the adolescent divisions seemingly dissolved, or at least in abeyance. I heard so many fascinating stories and had a glimpse of such different lives. Some of the re-connections will last, and some will not survive the daily distractions of all our lives, but that’s just details: the bottom line is we had so much fucking fun that it makes me smile to write about it, and it was the kind of fun that comes from being connected, even on the most tenuous level, for more than half our lives. Another lesson: the wheel goes around.

Unreformed: SPS 1978 – Disc 1

Do You Feel Like We Do (edit) – Peter Frampton
Born To Be Wild – Steppenwolf
Don’t Fear (The Reaper) – Blue Oyster Cult
Riders On The Storm – The Doors
Dream On – Aerosmith
White Rabbit – Jefferson Airplane
Dreams – Fleetwood Mac
All Along The Watchtower – Jimi Hendrix
Can’t Find My Way Home – Blind Faith
Kashmir – Led Zeppelin
Truckin’ – Grateful Dead
Get Down Tonight – K.C. & The Sunshine Band
Just What I Needed – The Cars
Suffragette City – David Bowie
Play That Funky Music – Wild Cherry

Unreformed: SPS 1978 – Disc 2

Fantasy – Earth Wind & Fire
Moondance – Van Morrison
Layla – Derek & The Dominos
Landslide – Fleetwood Mac
Happiness Is A Warm Gun – The Beatles
Time – Pink Floyd
The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys – Traffic
The Needle And The Damage Done – Neil Young
Sultans of Swing – Dire Straits
I Wish – Stevie Wonder
Brown Sugar – The Rolling Stones
Rebel Rebel – David Bowie
Born To Run – Bruce Springsteen
Free Bird – Lynyrd Skynyrd

I believe in stories

Hmm…Yes, she does have an unbelievable amount of energy. It drives me and my brother crazy sometimes.

There were a couple of misprints in that article. My mom says that, “work is a four-letter word, but when you do it, you get back another four-letter word… love”, not “love and work are four-letter words”. And I don’t know where they got twelve adopted kids from. It’s my brother (bio.), me (adopted — thank god, karma, energy, whoever because I don’t think I would’ve made a good Angela Salerno), and four fosters that we haven’t seen in a very long time… So, it has been just me and my brother for quite a while. For a few years anyway, there were six of us. But, I’m sure if there had been thirteen of us, she would have dealt with it just the same (she became a single parent overnight. walked not died).

Then, she needed that focus and energy. She put us all in the van one night and drove us through the projects. We’d never seen them before. Broken toys and lawn chairs out in the concrete yards in the middle of winter. “We can live here or we can work. What do you want to do?” We said, “work.” And we did. Non-stop. Asses off. What had been a hobby for my mom, became a business when someone called to hire her to do a show. We did almost 200 shows a month every month for two years. It was a big exhausting blur. I was eight by then, and even though I continued to help her out until high school, something about the shows left behind a nasty aftertaste. I think smiling for strangers when our elevator crashed made every show feel like a lie. Something about it just stuck in my head.

Of course all that is different now, and it’s long since gone back to being a hobby and my mom has hired help.

Lately, she’s been doing a lot of shows at teen lock-down facilities and alternative learning schools. I help her out sometimes when her other helpers are unavailable. Those are the best shows because I really get to see what she does. We get in the room and set up and these kids come in with these attitudes… And I don’t blame them. Most of them have been told that they are pieces of shit. They’ve been wrecked and they’re angry. They come in and look at us like, “who the fuck are you? why the fuck are you here? take your fuckin’ animals home ’cause I don’t give a fuck about them or you.” It’s nothing like a blue and gold banquet or a birthday party. She breaks out the more personal stories for these kids. The kind of stories I hardly ever tell because I don’t want anyone to feel bad for me or my family. Maybe it’s the humor she uses or maybe these kids can relate to what she’s saying… I don’t know. But midway through her presentation, the room isn’t so angry, people are laughing, asking all kinds of questions, holding animals they didn’t even want to see and someone who may have looked emotionless at the beginning, now looks like they have so much to say. Those are the times when I think, Wow. This woman is changing a little piece of the world. And she’s my mom. Cool. I know that sounds extremely cheesy, but it’s true.

Interestingly, that article came from the Lakeview Manor newsletter… Lakeview Manor is the new name of those projects we drove through.

Lindsey

Doesn’t sound cheesy at all to me. I believe there’s no power in the ‘verse like the moment that two people experience a connection.

I believe in stories. They’re good for so many things – teaching, integrating new information, connecting, distancing ourselves, praising, punishing. In some ways story is at the heart of all human interaction. Here’s what I did when I was 12 and my parents got divorced. Here’s what happened to my friend. Here’s how you and I are different. Here’s how we are the same. I remember… Personal stories can be such a powerful bridge. Sometimes they’re a momentary recognition, like a smile I give a stranger on the street. Sometimes they’re just a way of making myself hideously vulnerable without getting anything back. Sometimes they’re a lifeline for someone in a way that I may never anticipate or realize. But stories are always a gift. I like to give them and receive them, and I’m not likely to ever trust someone who isn’t willing to tell their own stories and listen to the stories of others. Good for your mom. She sounds like one of the Great Connectors.

I’m not just talking about the Big Stories; even the small stuff can make unexpected connections between folks. But the big stories can make a big impact. I think I understand what it might have been like for you helping out your mom, hearing her talk about your lives to strangers. Particularly those parts that might make people feel sorry for you, or give them just a little too much of a window into your world. I’ve been there.

One of the things that my high school class did in preparation for our upcoming reunion was to put together a “Reunion Book.” We filled out questionnaires, and the answers were collected into a booklet along with recent (or old) pictures. There were some evocative questions. And of course, all my memory comes back to me in the form of story, however abbreviated. So, Lindsey, thanks for your stories, and here are a few of mine.

St. Paul’s School 25th Anniversary Questionnaire

Kelley Eskridge
Occupation/Employment: writer

Partner’s Name: Nicola Griffith
Partner’s Occupation: novelist

Colleges/Universities and Degrees
BA Theatre Performance, University of South Florida

Public and Community Service Involvement
Various volunteer activities in the Deaf and Deaf-Blind communities, as part of my study of American Sign Language and interpreting.

Describe a favorite memory or moment at St. Paul’s
I have so many. Sneaking back onto campus with Jordie Hawley so late one night that even Checker Cabs was closed, and we had to hitch a ride (first time I ever did that!). The girls’ first boat winning Worcester even after one of our oarlocks popped and the race had to be started over. Time spent alone in the woods, or the boat docks, or Little Turkey–part of me knew that I might never again get so much uninterrupted beauty and peace and space for myself. Time spent with friends. Almost any night at the Coffeehouse. All the conversations. Dances. Autonomy. Buying the first poster and the first piece of jewelry I ever picked for myself, at Isis & Rasputin (I still have both). Jon Sweet waking me up with a bottle of champagne because we’d kicked everyone’s ass at the debating championships. Checker Cabs delivering late-night ice cream. John Tweedy leaving a $200 check in my mailbox after he saw me crying because I couldn’t afford to reserve my place in the freshman class at Northwestern, a kindness done with such unintrusive grace that it set a lifelong standard for me. Lying in the snow outside Upper, watching my first meteor shower. How it feels to have people throw you in the pond because they like you. Roaring down Fisk Hill in the dark on a borrowed bicycle at a thousand miles per hour after the last crew party. Peppermint ice cream with chocolate syrup. The first time I stepped onto campus, for my tour and interview, and realized that there was a bigger life outside of Tampa, Florida: I fell in love with the school and the life in that moment, and I’ve never looked back.

What did SPS best prepare you for?
To learn in new situations–to see things clearly and suss them out for myself, instead of waiting to be told what to think.

What did you NOT learn at St. Paul’s that you wish you had?
How to have the confidence of a 42-year-old.

What is your proudest accomplishment?
I’ve learned to live large, love unreservedly, build a marriage, be brave, appreciate difference, embrace joy, clean up my own mess, dream big dreams and then be responsible for whether I get them or not. Everything else is details.

If you could be granted one wish now, what would it be?
A miracle cure for multiple sclerosis.

What do you really hope to accomplish in the next 25 years?
Write and publish beautiful, powerful books. Interpret a U2 concert in ASL. Have 25 more years of food, drink and conversation with Nicola. Learn screenwriting. Take another trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. Cherish the people I love. Cherish myself. Meet new fascinating people and have some of them become life-friends. Dance more. Go farther than I ever imagined. Be joyful.

Any other thoughts or comments you’d like to share with your Formmates?
Life is short and the world is wide, and there are plenty of ways to be happy. I hope we have all found some.