How A Recent Article Triggered My Memories Of Earlier Tragedies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                              An article I read recently about how, following Tyler Clemnti's tragic death, his mother, Jane, contemplated suicide herself, triggered several things in me.  One was how awful her pain was, and how brave she was to share that, even now; the other was my first, early encounters with tragedy.

                               My mother's death, in 1979, was traumatic, but, several years before, there were two deaths of girls I had known in school, which shook me, not only because they were tragic, but because they were untimely.

                                However, before I get into that, let me launch into a defense, because several years back, at my high school reunion, where I had my picture taken with the Legendary Roberta--still sitting, framed, on the living room table--another of my classmates surreptitiously passed me, and whispered, of this blog, "Don't dis your high school friends."

                                That really bothered me.  Was that what I was thought of as doing?  Let me say, here and now that, save for my Bitch Of The Week column, I have no intention of dissing anyone.  High school, like a job, or any other part of life, is an individual experience; what I went through would not be what the person sitting across from me did.  And, of course, the most obvious is, whatever I say on here is based on my memory only, so the person I am informing on, most of all, is myself.

                                   Now, let's get to these tragedies.  The first, if I recall correctly, was in the Spring of 1975.  It was getting near dinner time, and the paper, The Home News, had just been delivered.  My mother, still alive, walked into the room, saying to me, "Did you know this girl?"  When she handed the paper to me, I was shocked.  There, on the front page, was a photo, maybe a graduation photo, of Nina Engebretsen.  She had only been eighteen, and she had been killed in an avalanche.

                                    I was stunned.  It all seemed unfair.  Now, I never really knew Nina, in the sense of interacting with her. We were both in choir, but that was about as far as it went.  She was a year behind me.  Her older brother, Fritz, was in both my Drama and Journalism classes, and was the genius everyone said he was.  That, and his looks, were why I had a crush on him, back then.  Had I been straight, I might have had that crush on Nina, who looked like a young Genevieve Bujold, and was, like her sibling, extremely bright.  There was another Engebretsen, Carla, a year behind Nina, who seemed more artistically inclined, but was also pretty in that Bujold kind of way.  I envied the Engebretsens; they had both brains and looks!
Which I then so desperately wanted!

                                    They lived two blocks from me, over on North Eight Avenue, next door to the Mindels.  Oh, my God, the Mindels...well, that is another story.  The story with the Engebretsens is that, for reasons unknown, (but an affair was rumored) the marriage broke up, and the mother took up with a Rutgers professor named Arthur Smullyan.  Mr. E was also an academic there; hence the kids' brain power.  Now, Mrs. E and Smullyan eventually married, and the way I understood things was Fritz and Carla adjusted, but Nina did not.  Fritz was a year ahead of me, so he graduated while I was a junior.  At the time I recall him going by "Engebretsen-Smullyan."  I wonder if that is the case now.  The story went Nina was very close to her father, and was not happy with the new situation, to the point where things escalated, and she was, one evening, thrown out of the house, forcing her to stay  over with a friend.  I wish I knew who that was.

                                   Now, Nina was like number two in her class.  School wise, she could have gone anywhere; the Ivies, anything.  She ended up at the University Of Puget Sound, on the other side of the country, which was some kind of statement, as far as I was concerned.  But who could have guessed what happened?????????

                                    Some group, actually a climbing course she was taking   went on a trip to a nearby park, and while in a cabin there, were trapped by an avalanche. The incident, which took place at 8:30PM, on the evening of April 26, 1975, was known as the Mt. St. Helen's Avalanche.

I weep for Nina, even now, as I write this; she was so full of promise, and after whatever hell she went through, she deserved so much better.  I can only pray she is getting it now.

                                  This is Nina's resting place.  It is Mountain View Memorial Park, in Lakewood, in Pierce County, Washington.  I doubt if anything in my life will bring me near there, but if it should, I promise to visit Nina's grave.  I wish her the peace she never had in life,

                                   Three years later, in 1978, with my mother's death looming less than a  year ahead, without our  knowledge, another school mate died, one I had more interaction with, at least for a time.  I went to Irving School, and so did the kids living on Highland Avenue and those streets.  From there, came Debbie Klink, who was a year ahead of me, funny, and was named "Teacher's Torment" in her graduation yearbook.   We never had that in mine.  I wonder why?  There certainly wasn't a shortage of candidates, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                    Nina's death was uncontrollable.  Debbie's was no less tragic; what was special about it was it was my first encounter with suicide.  Because, in the Summer of 1978, at a time when she should have been a youthful twenty-four, having the time of her life, Debbie took her life.

                                    I recall crossing Raritan Avenue and walking up the hill to Irving many times, with Debbie, which is how I discovered how funny she was.  There is a cliche that behind every comic lies a sad story; although I think that is just the Human Condition.  It applies to all; not just comics.

                                     Debbie graduated from high school, and in years to come, became an LPN, holding a series of jobs.  Only, the jobs did not last, because Debbie had a substance problem.  It seemed when she was around, pharmaceuticals had a way of disappearing.  Debbie would get found out, move on to somewhere else, and so it continued.  How long could anyone keep this up?

                                       Like most addicts, Debbie desperately wanted to quit, and get on with her life.  From what I understand, she had been in some kind of program, but I guess it did not take.  So Debbie, one weekend, told her family she was going down to the shore--a not uncommon experience for young Jerseyites--to visit friends.  She did get to the shore, but what was found out later, was she checked into a motel or lodge down there, wrote a note, and took an overdose of pills.  The note, from what I understand, said something about not being able to overcome this addiction, and so she did not want to be a burden to anyone, was as tragic as her death.  She thought she was helping.  It still saddens me, decades later, to write about Debbie,as it does about Nina.

                                      Those were my first tragedies.  Long ago, never forgotten.  Same with the school days...when I write them.  The  memories are just the corners of my mind, darlings....mine and no one else's.

                                       My God, can't I end with something more ringing than BARBRA???????  Let me just say this--What's said on here, stays here, and I answer all my comments.

                                         And keep up the good work, Jane, and the Clementis!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!