The year was 1960. Besides trying to finish Michner's new book Hawaii, I was Mother to four kids, taking classes at the U of MN and the Art School, dancing, and serving on the PTA. How I kept my fingers in all those pies, I'll never know but I was young, healthy and determined.
After three years in Morocco during the Korean War, my husband and I had returned to the States and fell into suburban life with the ever growing economy. Daryl proved to be a brilliant business man, affording me the luxury of getting the education I missed out on by getting married so young.
Daryl and I were growing with the times but in separate directions. The kids and I rarely saw him. Devoted to work, he left the house before anyone was up and got home after the kids were in bed. Family values during that time were totally opposite of today's. Wives usually didn't work. Since I had been a child of the great depression, I was thankful for a husband who provided for us, even though he was usually absent. This meant I also had time to pursue some passions of my own.
Have you ever noticed how we often involve ourselves in things that are merely the vehicle for meeting people we are meant to find in this life. My weekly drawing class at the Art Institute was that vehicle for meeting Marilyn. I had no talent in art, whatsoever. That time would have been better spent dancing or singing but every Wednesday night found me in frustration with my bad drawings of the human anatomy. I can't for the life of me remember why I chose this class and was even thinking of dropping out when I suddenly became friends with some of the talented people who gave me drawing tips while encouraging me to stay.
After class, we all met at "The Nicollet Cafe," (shortened The Nic) to socialize and discuss art. I was the odd duck on the outer edge because many of these poor struggling art students went on to achieve greatness in the art world. Recently I had the surprise to run into two of them who definitely were living in great comfort because of their talent but at that time, everyone lived in uncertain aspiration, trying to become a name in the art world.
It was Marilyn's sister Judy, who I met first. We had a double connection through art school and dancing. We exchanged tid-bits of information about our lives and I was aware that Judy and her sister had recently migrated to the "big city of Minneapolis" from a small town of Duluth. Judy worked in a dance studio to pay for her art classes and although she mentioned her sister, Marilyn, her remarks became rather evasive when she referred to her.
The following week when the group gathered at The Nic, there was a pretty, petite dark haired girl I had never seen before. She closely resembled the then-young, Liz Taylor. Judy introduced the girl as her sister, Marilyn. We became engaged in a conversation, during which I found out that Marilyn didn't go to the art school, nor was she an aspiring artist. A little later, Marilyn stood up and I was somewhat surprised to notice she was obviously pregnant, because I wasn't aware she was married.
To Be Continued.
In 1960, Chubby Checkers had taken the US by storm with his Twist record. Below is a clip of various dancers doing the Twist.
