[Critique Group 2] 854-word submission for October 25

[Alice Massa]

NOTE:Although I used to tell the following story as part of a lecture 
example when I was teaching personal narrative, I had never written on 
the following topic until October 7, 2018, as a result of a prompt for 
Nan's poetry "workshop."For this month's submission, the somewhat 
revised poem is sandwiched between two segments of personal narrative; 
thus, I use the created term "poessay," which contains 854 words.

*A Poessay:May 28, 1968*

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

*Prologue*

1968 was the first "sea change" year in the history of my lifetime--for 
the entire country and for my high school.Due to the assassinations of 
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and presidential candidate Robert F. 
Kennedy in 1968, many people do not recall that Helen Keller also died 
in 1968--June 1 of that memorable year.Most people never knew that Susan 
also passed away in 1968; but everyone in our high school, with an 
enrollment of about four hundred, knew.

During our senior year of 1967-68, Susan returned to school after her 
surgery for malignant cancer.In Mrs. Baldwin's senior English class, 
Susan sat in one of the wooden row desks which was two seats in front of 
mine and one row to the left.Although Susan's hair was gone, her 
ever-present smile and twinkling eyes persisted.The wig she wore, like 
the cancer, seemed too large for her thin face and body.Her slender hand 
rested on a small, decorative, gold pillow--gold because our school 
colors were old gold and black.With great hesitation, I glanced at what 
remained of her hand--part of her hand, her thumb, and her index 
finger.After a while, I tried to turn my attention to the English class.

At a later point in the semester, I was walking down the north stairway 
of the Junior High Building.I entered the seemingly empty corridor and 
realized that Susan was making up a test.She was sitting at an arm-chair 
desk and was trying to complete the test.Another student was standing 
beside her and called me over to where they were in the stairwell.During 
the brief conversation, the other student said that I would know the 
answers to a couple of questions.I did.Susan never asked for my help; 
the other student did.I had never cheated nor facilitated someone else's 
cheating; however, on that day, I thought I was doing what was right by 
helping Susan with a couple of answers.I never regretted doing so.I knew 
that my helping her in this way was a very small gesture.Cancer was 
really the one doing the cheating.

After our senior trip to Chicago was cancelled due to the unrest there 
after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., we seniors were 
told that there was not enough time to plan another trip.Of course, 
these events happened in April of 1968; by May, although Susan had not 
returned to school for some time, we heard that she wanted to graduate 
with her class at the ceremony in the Clinton High School 
Gymnasium.Also, we heard that one teacher was preventing Susan's 
wish:Mrs. Baldwin, the senior English teacher, did not want to give 
Susan a "pass" without work being appropriately and satisfactorily 
completed.

As the events and parties of the last month of our four years at Clinton 
High School continued, we finally heard that someone convinced Mrs. 
Baldwin to change her mind so that Susan could be one of the 104 
graduates at our Commencement.Nevertheless, up to the last minute, we 
were not certain that Susan would be able to attend the graduation of 
the CHS Class of '68.

*Malignant Commencement:A Poem*

**

Fifty years ago,

holding a lace-trimmed, white handkerchief,

I heard Donnie Miller say,

"Are you going to cry?"

Wearing a white, tasseled mortar board

and a white graduation gown with white low heels,

I saw, in brown-tones and a blur,

the gurney being wheeled across the auditorium stage.

Susan did come for our graduation.

With a white hospital gown

and under a white blanket,

Susan reached out her hand for a diploma.

A wish was granted.

At that second,

I learned that a gymnasium filled with people

could be absolutely silent--

in awe, in respect, in prayer.

I did use my lace-trimmed handkerchief.

Donnie Miller shed a few tears.

The entire gymnasium was filled with tears.

Susan left the stage as she had come--

like an angel.

Commencement, May 28, 1968--

then and forever on the yearbook of our memories.

*Post-Script*

Exactly one month after our graduation, during that "Limbo" period 
between high school graduation and college, my cousin Carole and I were 
outside my Aunt Zita's restaurant, at the north side of the parking lot, 
near the summer's green grass, and at the edge of Highway 71.On that 
late June day when the evening was still light from the setting sun, a 
car unexpectedly stopped near my cousin and me.A friend told us the 
unsurprising, but startling and heartbreaking news:Susan had died.

The word "Commencement," sometimes used for graduation ceremonies, 
should mean a beginning.Most of us from the CHS Class of 1968 
experienced this new beginning, went on to five decades of living, 
celebrated our 50th class reunion, and still go on.Although we have 
taken so many different paths in our lives, we hold in common certain 
times, events, happenings of long ago.We hold in common this everlasting 
memory of a much too young Susan--our graduation angel.

October 16, 2018, Tuesday

number of words:854

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