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Mary Curtin
 

 

How does one sum-up this 50-year-old bonding which began when we both were at the cross-roads of our lives? We each took the path the other could have gone down as easily. We were each other's selves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


I am an old friend of Ann's from graduate school days in Wisconsin. When I look at Ann's pictures and read her obit I too see the Grande Dame, which she was -- poised, principled, a public leader. That Ann lives again in the memory of a great night in a New York hotel room, the night of her installation as president of her professional education association. Bill and I are drinking wine or beer, Ann perhaps something more relaxing. She falls into a high back chair fit for a queen, takes off her shoes, loosens her belt and describes Maxine Greene's dress (an ex-president's) and reports the current gossip from Columbia College of Education. Her night to shine. She smiles not as smugly as one of her beloved Siamese but with satisfaction and enthusiasm. Now she's in position to promote on a national scale what she most believes in -- public, free, open education for all.

Enthusiasm! Passion! The second face of Ann that the pictures seldom arrest. Animated Ann, the other Ann that pervaded all she did, thought and felt. Enthusiasm for the view from her deck toward sunsets and Diamond Head, for cats and charming children, for good food (often made by her hand) and the company of friends around her board, for friends of long-standing or just met, and most of all for her family -- brother Bob, sister Dolly, nephew Bob and neice Mary. We came to know all these good Wisconsin people through her passion for them. Passion against the powerful who would restrict, undermine, or destroy our world: Vietnamese generals, two men from California in high places, that one from Texas, and those with deep pockets and shallow hearts. Only an hour with soft-spoken Garrison Keillor "down Woebegon-Way" (not too far from Mindoro, across the river) would soothe her fervor against these unyielding men.

Ann, the passionate public person. Something's missing, only hinted at. The Ann I knew best, whom I most miss is/was a more private, intimate friend. We met on the Terrace at University of Wisconsin, Madison, "broke bread" at dinner tables in Connecticut on the Atlantic and Hawaii Mid-Pacific, talked on the phone when letters no longer satisfied. But the best moments were "girl friend" talks on her bed in Madison, in Connecticut (one long, several short visits) or in Hawaii. We talked, compared "life notes", laughed, told stories, revealed and at times concealed our deeper selves. How does one sum-up this 50-year-old bonding which began when we both were at the cross-roads of our lives? We each took the path the other could have gone down as easily. We were each other's selves. That Ann is gone, can no longer call, I can no longer visit and whose voice I'll no longer hear -- except in my locked memory.

Mary Curtin
mecurt@attglobal.net

 

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