
Chance Meeting ...
Life is composed of small events and big events, and they ebb and flow like the tides. Some incidents have little significance; others impact us for the rest of our lives. As a young adult and with little forethought, I registered for a college art class taught by Shirley Mason, an assistant professor at Rio Grande College. Today, many years later and no longer a young adult, I recognize and salute the importance of that meeting in the autumn of 1970. If I had taken a different class, Shirley Mason and I might not have met. I might have read Flora Schreiber’s best selling book about a lady named Sybil. I might have watched a movie called Sybil that starred Sally Field; but I most likely would have missed out on the friendship that grew between Shirley and me as I pursued my degree at Rio Grande. The rest of the world knew Shirley Mason by her pseudonym, Sybil, the woman with sixteen personalities. I knew her first as Miss Mason, my teacher; later as Shirley, a good friend. The best selling book Sybil and the subsequent movies based on that book recount Shirley’s childhood abuse and the trauma that led to her DID, dissociative identity disorder. I knew nothing about DID when I first met Shirley. I also didn’t know that we would be in each other’s lives for the next twenty-eight years.
Four years previous, I had left Rio Grande to teach fourth grade in a northern Ohio school district. At that time, not needing a degree to teach, I applied and was hired for fourth grade position in a school district two hours from my hometown. During this same period I married and lived overseas for two years. In the fall of 1970 I returned to my parents' home to live and to finish my bachelor’s degree at Rio Grande. My parents were both employed by the college with my father in the maintenance department; my mother, the college postmistress. My parents knew, and I knew they knew, that I needed my Bachelor's degree in order to support myself. My marriage was not going well. Both of them knew Shirley Mason long before I enrolled in her class. They thought highly of her and my mother frequently talked to her when she came into the post office.
I walked into the art room my first day of classes that fall semester of 1970 to find an unassuming rather plain middle-aged woman standing in front of the class. From the beginning, her attitude toward students was very clear. I remember to this day what she said to one young man who commented that he couldn’t draw worth a darn. Her reply, “Well, I’m here to help you, not to be an art critic, so don’t be afraid to try.” That allowed many of her students who were worried about their artistic abilities, and that would include me, to relax in the knowledge that Miss Mason was with us, not against us.
Believe it or not, I can actually draw.
- Michelangelo
Castles in the Air
One day Miss Mason carried a stack of books about castles into our class. She talked about castles, showed us illustrations, and then said, "I want you to build your own castle using any material you want. It’s due in two weeks.” I sat there thinking as the other students started sketching. I didn't want to do a variation of what everyone else did.
On project day the other students brought in beautifully designed castles made from every conceivable material. My choice was also a hodge-podge of materials - buttons, ribbons, boxes of various sizes, but also included was angel hair to simulate clouds. I had designed a castle in the air. It was fanciful and lop-sided, not practical in the least, but Miss Mason loved it. At the end of class that day, she and I talked for a long time. She asked if she could keep the castle to use as an example in her future classes. I was delighted that she valued my creation; not to mention relieved that I wasn’t the one who had to store it. When Shirley moved to Lexington a few years later, she took my castle with her. I think that castle was one of the reasons that she and I bonded. She saw something in me through the castle assignment that caused her to pause and consider the young woman who had designed it. I paused and saw a caring teacher who took the time to talk with me about what that castle in the air represented in my life.
I was a little older than most of Miss Mason’s other students. I was also depressed, dealing with the separation from my husband and trying to blend back into my parents' life; not an easy adjustment. Although I had grown up in rural southern Ohio, living out of the area for four years had changed me. I no longer fit in. Two years teaching in northern Ohio; another two years on an air force base in Turkey; both had broadened my narrow viewpoint. Shirley sensed that I was uncomfortable and troubled. I sensed that she too felt alienated by the culture and cliques that surrounded us. There was something about Miss Mason that let me know she would listen without judging. As we grew more comfortable with each other, I started attaching poetry to my art projects although that was not part of her assignments. Then, I started sharing my other writing with her. I needed someone outside my family circle to whom I could relate. Miss Mason stepped into the niche. My mother said she felt sorry for Miss Mason because she seemed like such a lonely person. I tried not to show how lonely I felt because after all I was surrounded by my family.
I continued to visit Shirley after our class ended that semester. She mentioned to me that she and two friends were working on a book. She did not give me any details. I graduated in the spring, and she wished me well. The next day I drove to South Carolina to re-join my husband and to teach there. I arrived the first week of June; the second week my husband received orders to report to Taiwan for two years. I was not allowed to go with him. The first of August I was back in Ohio where I was hired to teach fifth grade in my old school district near Columbus. I wrote Shirley to catch up on recent events, and she wrote back. That letter was the first one I received of what would become a twenty-eight year correspondence.
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost.
There is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.
- Henry David Thoreau
Life is composed of small events and big events, and they ebb and flow like the tides. Some incidents have little significance; others impact us for the rest of our lives. As a young adult and with little forethought, I registered for a college art class taught by Shirley Mason, an assistant professor at Rio Grande College. Today, many years later and no longer a young adult, I recognize and salute the importance of that meeting in the autumn of 1970. If I had taken a different class, Shirley Mason and I might not have met. I might have read Flora Schreiber’s best selling book about a lady named Sybil. I might have watched a movie called Sybil that starred Sally Field; but I most likely would have missed out on the friendship that grew between Shirley and me as I pursued my degree at Rio Grande. The rest of the world knew Shirley Mason by her pseudonym, Sybil, the woman with sixteen personalities. I knew her first as Miss Mason, my teacher; later as Shirley, a good friend. The best selling book Sybil and the subsequent movies based on that book recount Shirley’s childhood abuse and the trauma that led to her DID, dissociative identity disorder. I knew nothing about DID when I first met Shirley. I also didn’t know that we would be in each other’s lives for the next twenty-eight years.
Four years previous, I had left Rio Grande to teach fourth grade in a northern Ohio school district. At that time, not needing a degree to teach, I applied and was hired for fourth grade position in a school district two hours from my hometown. During this same period I married and lived overseas for two years. In the fall of 1970 I returned to my parents' home to live and to finish my bachelor’s degree at Rio Grande. My parents were both employed by the college with my father in the maintenance department; my mother, the college postmistress. My parents knew, and I knew they knew, that I needed my Bachelor's degree in order to support myself. My marriage was not going well. Both of them knew Shirley Mason long before I enrolled in her class. They thought highly of her and my mother frequently talked to her when she came into the post office.
I walked into the art room my first day of classes that fall semester of 1970 to find an unassuming rather plain middle-aged woman standing in front of the class. From the beginning, her attitude toward students was very clear. I remember to this day what she said to one young man who commented that he couldn’t draw worth a darn. Her reply, “Well, I’m here to help you, not to be an art critic, so don’t be afraid to try.” That allowed many of her students who were worried about their artistic abilities, and that would include me, to relax in the knowledge that Miss Mason was with us, not against us.
Believe it or not, I can actually draw.
- Michelangelo
Castles in the Air
One day Miss Mason carried a stack of books about castles into our class. She talked about castles, showed us illustrations, and then said, "I want you to build your own castle using any material you want. It’s due in two weeks.” I sat there thinking as the other students started sketching. I didn't want to do a variation of what everyone else did.
On project day the other students brought in beautifully designed castles made from every conceivable material. My choice was also a hodge-podge of materials - buttons, ribbons, boxes of various sizes, but also included was angel hair to simulate clouds. I had designed a castle in the air. It was fanciful and lop-sided, not practical in the least, but Miss Mason loved it. At the end of class that day, she and I talked for a long time. She asked if she could keep the castle to use as an example in her future classes. I was delighted that she valued my creation; not to mention relieved that I wasn’t the one who had to store it. When Shirley moved to Lexington a few years later, she took my castle with her. I think that castle was one of the reasons that she and I bonded. She saw something in me through the castle assignment that caused her to pause and consider the young woman who had designed it. I paused and saw a caring teacher who took the time to talk with me about what that castle in the air represented in my life.
I was a little older than most of Miss Mason’s other students. I was also depressed, dealing with the separation from my husband and trying to blend back into my parents' life; not an easy adjustment. Although I had grown up in rural southern Ohio, living out of the area for four years had changed me. I no longer fit in. Two years teaching in northern Ohio; another two years on an air force base in Turkey; both had broadened my narrow viewpoint. Shirley sensed that I was uncomfortable and troubled. I sensed that she too felt alienated by the culture and cliques that surrounded us. There was something about Miss Mason that let me know she would listen without judging. As we grew more comfortable with each other, I started attaching poetry to my art projects although that was not part of her assignments. Then, I started sharing my other writing with her. I needed someone outside my family circle to whom I could relate. Miss Mason stepped into the niche. My mother said she felt sorry for Miss Mason because she seemed like such a lonely person. I tried not to show how lonely I felt because after all I was surrounded by my family.
I continued to visit Shirley after our class ended that semester. She mentioned to me that she and two friends were working on a book. She did not give me any details. I graduated in the spring, and she wished me well. The next day I drove to South Carolina to re-join my husband and to teach there. I arrived the first week of June; the second week my husband received orders to report to Taiwan for two years. I was not allowed to go with him. The first of August I was back in Ohio where I was hired to teach fifth grade in my old school district near Columbus. I wrote Shirley to catch up on recent events, and she wrote back. That letter was the first one I received of what would become a twenty-eight year correspondence.
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost.
There is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.
- Henry David Thoreau
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