As a child and young adult, I deeply loved and appreciated literature, art, and music and often found solace in all three during difficult periods of my life; but years of frequent moving from house to house (30) and switching from school to school (12) made it somewhat difficult to ever pursue excellence or training in any of them. Fortunately, that last move to Tuolumne my junior year brought me to Summerville High School, a place where I would find myself surrounded by people who celebrated and encouraged my attempts to grow and improve and express myself in academics, as well as in various artistic and musical pursuits.

For me, Summerville was the perfect size: large enough to provide a variety of classes, clubs, activities, and sports, yet small enough to very quickly find myself feeling connected, noticed, and appreciated. Several highlights of my high school career came as complete surprises to me: earning a National Merit commendation my junior year; having my drawing of the Summerville entrance chosen for the school stationery; being chosen by the student body as Homecoming Queen my senior year; singing an original composition at the Redding Jazz Festival and being awarded a scholarship for it that I hadn’t known I was even competing for. And then so many ordinary and wonderful days in between: countless lazy lunch periods spent sitting out on the lawn or at the picnic tables, visiting with teachers and students alike; memorizing and reciting poetry in Mr. deGennaro’s class for extra credit (“Ode on a Grecian Urn” was my favorite); singing and harmonizing every eighth hour in Jazz at Eight with Mr. Wells and then traveling to competitions at numerous festivals; learning new drawing techniques in Art class, like creating pictures completely from dots or lines; making friends with all kinds of people both similar and dissimilar.

There were heartbreaking experiences as well, like the month we lost our friend and fellow student Clayton Forester. I sang “End of the Road” at his memorial, a song I had written during a difficult time in my early teens, a song reflecting that strange mixture of sadness and loss and a clinging to hope that we were now experiencing in the wake of his passing. Memories of him still haunt me, but they are thankfully overshadowed in remembering how we as a class and as a student body became closer, how we rallied around each other, how our teachers and staff were there to grieve with us and offer comfort when we needed it.

When I graduated in 1989, I headed off to Fresno Pacific College where I pursued an undergraduate degree in Literature, with a minor in Music. I continued to perform music with the Concert Choir, at vocal recitals, in the yearly musical productions, and as part of a small traveling group. There I also enjoyed being part of the President’s Club, which included taking a yearly course on leadership taught by the college president himself. This led eventually to being a resident counselor in the dorms, which was precluded by an eight-day trek through the John Muir Forest called “Walkabout,” an experience which took me out of my comfort zone and allowed me to push myself in outdoor pursuits I’d never tried before, such as rock-climbing, rappelling, and mountaineering. From an academic standpoint, FPC was perfect for me, because the class sizes were small enough to allow frequent engagement and discourse with my professors and fellow students, and the coursework was rigorous and varied enough to be challenging yet attainable, continuing in the model I had enjoyed so much at Summerville High.

While at Fresno Pacific I met my future husband, Mark Meadors, who swept me off my feet and into further adventures, first to his hometown in the high desert of Kernville, California, where we both taught in the public school district for a year, and then to northeastern Missouri so that he could attend the Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine. We both fell in love with the green rolling hills and small-town community, and we ended up staying there for the next ten years as we started a family. Over the following years I was blessed with many opportunities to continue singing and writing songs, at times on my own but most often through our church, as I served on the worship team and performed in several musicals and Christmas productions.

Though I never went back to teaching in a public-school setting, I had the distinct joy of teaching my own children for ten years, as we bounced around from town to town due to changes in my husband’s medical training and job relocations. Ironically, although my degree had been in English secondary education, I found myself immersed in everything for grades K-8 as we studied science, history, math, art, P.E., grammar, writing and literature together through the years. Homeschooling proved to be a wonderful opportunity to spend our days with each other and learn together. It also made it easy to make the most of wherever we happened to be living, as we learned about the surrounding topography, culture, and history. I loved continuing to learn right along with them, in essence furthering my own education as I helped them along in theirs. That is one thing that I would say to anyone of any age, but particularly to young people because it’s quite helpful if you can grasp this early on in life: don’t take your educational opportunities for granted, whether it’s high school, college, vocational training, post-graduate, or a continuing life of self-educating pursuits. None of it is wasted if you use it right, even the classes or teachers that you like least can teach you something valuable if you let them. Pursue knowledge and experiences that will stretch you and make you stronger and more well-rounded. Never stop learning, growing, and looking for ways to better yourself as a human being and child of God, no matter what your role happens to be as a member of society, in whatever career or vocation, and maybe simply as a brother, sister, spouse, parent or child. There is always a reason to press on and continue challenging yourself in new and varied ways.

After various relocations we eventually landed in Cape Girardeau, a small town in southeastern Missouri along the banks of the Mississippi where we have lived now for fourteen years. Our whole family absolutely loves it here, and Mark and I are thankful that we finally found a home where we can envision ourselves growing old. We have four children: Jacob and Jordan are third year medical students, Gabe is in his senior year of college, and Nate is a junior in high school. Gabe got married earlier this year and our daughter Jordan is engaged to be married next summer, so our family continues to expand! My husband Mark is a full-time oncologist at St Francis Medical Center, and I continue to help the family in whatever way I can while also volunteering my time in various schools, at church, and in our community.

I had stopped homeschooling each of my kids as they reached high school so that they could branch out into a larger arena of educational and extra-curricular opportunities. I am thankful that all of them were fortunate enough to have been able to experience a positive high school environment with caring, enthusiastic teachers who pushed them towards excellence. Watching them go through their own high school experiences has renewed in me a deep sense of gratitude for my own, and I appreciate this opportunity to say thank you to all of those who were there for me during those years from 1987 to 1989. A special thank you to Mr. Urquhart, Mr. deGennaro, Mr. Wells, Mr. Borrego, and Mr. Mosely, as well as so many others whose names have slipped my mind after all these years but who played an important part just the same. I don’t know that I would have found the success that I did or enjoyed the process as much as I did without your encouragement and guidance. I am indebted to all of you for your kindness, generosity, and support. Whether you knew it or not, you were making a big difference and will be remembered by many of us with continuing fondness.