Long Beach—Wednesday Night—the last night of winter
In 1969 I quit college…actually took a leave of absence but never returned…to work in a state institution.
College made no sense to me, as my world was in chaos..Viet Nam, drugs, sex, women’s lib….my friends were leaping off into all directions and I didn’t know what to do, BUT I knew that I did not want to commit to college before I knew what I was aiming for.
I rented a cottage in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and got a job at a state institution. This was an important chapter for me as well as for the 40 abused, hence abusive and dangerous women I was in charge of. Just as Willowbrook was spotlit during this time, so was Laconia, where I was. I made a difference to these women and the system, but ended up in a hospital for a year afterwards.
THEN, I moved to Lexington, Massachusetts, as I had met a doctor (Davidoff..as in ’Death Be Not Proud’, Davidoff) in the Beth Israel Hospital in Boston, whose wife was the principal of a private preschool for exceptional children. I was offered the job of head teacher for four-year-olds. These children were the most brilliant, geniusly creative, articulate little people one can imagine AND many of them living in homes with their grandparents who had perviously been imprisoned in concentration camps. The households held extreme emotions and the children were affected. This school was a healing place, a time out and safe place, where the children could blossom. Among my children, was Noam and Carol Chomsky’s son. He and I grew a special relationship, and I became a regular visitor in their home.
Looking back on this time….these people….sitting at the dinner table and participating in extraordinary conversations about life and values and the world….and I recently read that Noam had lost his ability to speak.
Silence.
What is there to say?