I went a small women’s liberal arts college in Southern California. When I attended in the late 70’s and early 80’s, the student body consisted primarily of wealthy white young women who were not there to prepare for careers. They drove luxury cars and wore designer clothing and were there to meet other members of the elite. The college had a mocking reputation of granting an “Mrs.” degree, meaning most of the women were there to find an equally wealthy husband. Looking at many of my peers today, it is clear, whether they admitted it then or not, that was indeed what they were there for.
Unlike most of the student body, I worked through my college years and bought my clothing at Army surplus and second-hand stores. I walked where I needed to go and stayed within my means. In return I got a fantastic education and my years in college prepared me for life in ways that I didn’t realize until years later. The professors were accomplished leaders in their fields. I certainly realize and appreciate the quality of the education I received.
While I was there, I was not accepted into that elite world and that suited me just fine. My friends and I welcomed all fellow outcasts to join us at our table in the dining hall and hang out if they wanted to.
There was one young woman I will call Jessie. She was overweight and didn’t shower much. She dressed, well, even worse than I did. She knew she was welcome to be with us and we provided a safe space. But I didn’t quite know what to make of her. While she was smart and creative, her communication skills were not good. The only topic she could only talk about was herself and she did so in a babbling way. Looking back, I now question if she was on the spectrum or if she had experienced major trauma already in her life that stunted her permanently. I didn’t know if she was on scholarship or was able to pay her way. We knew very little about her other than she had a big crush on Timothy Hutton and she was taking art classes. She really couldn’t engage in conversation beyond that.
Jessie never reached out in friendship to any of us and being young we didn’t question why and just gave her the space she wanted. And since she was someone I couldn’t relate to, I didn’t pursue friendship either. Once we all graduated I never heard about her again. Until today.
I read through the latest edition of the alumni magazine which has updates on life events including deaths. Listed in the Death section was Jessie who died last year.
I looked her up on Google to see what had happened and how her life had been. All I could find was an obituary written by her family. There was no information about her life in that obituary other than a brief paragraph.
Her family described her life as going to college, studying photography and graphic art, a lifelong reader, and during her last years, acting as caretaker for her elderly father. Nothing more.
Her father survives her and is listed as living in the Midwest where Jessie passed away. She also had 5 siblings yet she alone took care of the father. What struck me was the final sentence: “Jessie will be buried in the family plot in Ojai”. I thought, what does that mean – is this a wealthy family? Why is the family plot in Ojai when none of the family lives in that area? Was she at my college because this is where that particular wealthy family sent family members?
The obituary is on a page of a mortuary website where people can share their thoughts and memories. There are no posts – none from her siblings nor from the “numerous nieces and nephews” the obituary mentions. The mortuary produced a tribute book and not one person contributed a tribute.
Today I think about Jessie and all of us who crossed paths with Jessie during that time in college. What world was she supposed to belong to, what world was she capable of living in and what world did she choose. Did her family expect her to be part of that world of the wealthy but she knew she never could or would be. I hope the silence on the tribute page doesn’t reflect how she was treated during her life. I wish I could know what world she chose to live in during these decades of her brief life.
In the picture of her on the obituary she looks almost exactly the same as she did in college except for, you know, being 45 years older. She died young and I hope her life was filled with the joy she found through photography, graphic art and reading. Things that can be enjoyed fully whether or not you are wealthy.
1/30/23