Category Archives: Friends

Two Personal Shrines

I’ve just come across two framed shrines that meant something to me in my younger years. One I put together, one was put together by my mom.

The first is a collection of a photo, a pen and ink drawing and some pressed flowers. I made it while I was dating an Englishman. The photo is of Jeremy as a toddler. The drawing was made between the time we met in Elgin (March 1974) and the time I visited England (June 1974). It depicts a tree on a lakeshore beside a stone circle. I’m not sure about the flowers — the one below the photo was something special from Jeremy’s father’s garden — an alpine plant of some sort. The two on the other side — one looks like a pansy and the other might be a bluebell.

The second framed shrine was given to me my my mom after they cut down my climbing apple tree. It was probably a Christmas present long after I’d moved out. I was very much attached to that tree. I named it Charlie after a neither asked if it was a Jonathan. I spent many summer days in the tree, often writing in my journal, always gathering strength. It’s no wonder I had my high school graduation photo taken with Charlie — it was truly a part of me.

Coprophilia Passport

In 1979 I spent three months at a college in London while I student taught at a primary school. I became friends with a group of other students who’d formed a pseudo-club and called itself the United Free State of Coprophilia. I became a member (under the alias of Gladys Hipps) and was issued this passport.

I’ve got a suspicion that the founders thought coprophilia was love of death and not love of shit.

I have no idea what the distinguishing feature comment was all about. (It says “Quick temper, easily flared when confronted by black jacketed idiots. So there.”)

Playbill from A Chorus Line, Drury Theatre, London 1979

I student taught in London the spring term of 1979. I can’t say that I learned much about teaching during those few months, but I sure had a blast in London.

One night a bunch of us, mostly — perhaps all — American students, went to Theatre Royal Drury Lane to see the musical A Chorus Line. I loved the musical (and still have the LP I bought after getting back to the States). Music from that show brings back such vivid memories of sights and sounds and even smells of my time in London. On the way back from the show we danced, linked arms and kicking, chorus-line-style through the streets of London, down the steps of the Underground, and back to Southlands College.

Good memories. I don’t need to keep this. Is there a market for vintage playbills?