"1983 Key: Evanston Township High School" Vol. XXXIII

My parents are moving to Wisconsin and I had to sort through some boxes of stuff I still had at their house. Low and behold, I ran across the ETHS (Evanston Township High School) 1983 Yearbook called the “Key.” I never went to ETHS, instead I went to Whitney Young and then made the wise choice to attend correspondence school after my sophomore year (she says with a note of sarcasm) in the hopes of becoming a great ballet dancer (more snickers of sarcasm).

Had I gone to ETHS along with my junior high classmates and friends, I would have been in classes with Jeremy Piven or John Cusack. I’ve just had too many brushes with fame in my life that never seemed to rub off. Piven looks pretty awful in that yearbook. Poor kid.

I don’t really remember much of high school, junior high or even elementary school. Where was I? I know I went to classes (most of the time), but nothing sunk into my little grey cells. Maybe I was too busy having crushes on boys that were far too popular for me to even look at in the hallways (Michael R., Bob W., Geoff D. – to name a few) and that’s what I was day dreaming about all the time. That and ballet. I think I was pretty invisible in school. True – I was pretty skinny back then, but I don’t remember talking to people that much or maybe I was just shy or something. It’s all really quite a blur.

The only attention I recall getting was from a boy in elementary school that sent me a secret admirer letter with change in it. I don’t remember the amount, but I found it pretty appalling that someone professing love for me would give me loose change. I think I was in the third grade (maybe second). The letter completely freaked me out. I remember running home after school and throwing it out – with the change – in the kitchen garbage. About an hour after the "incident," I recall going back into the kitchen where I witnessed my father hunching over in the trash can collecting the change. I looked at him in complete shock and all he said was, “no need to throw out perfectly good change.” I was mortified. To this day, I still don’t know who sent me that letter.