Judith Sheahan Lindgren

Memories of Marilyn

Marilyn and I were friends during our freshman and sophomore years. My family moved to Evanston from Chicago shortly before I enrolled at ETHS and as I didn't know many kids in our class those first months of high school, I have no memory of who may have introduced me to Marilyn or how we came to be friends. But, no matter, we did have fun--maybe a little too much fun from my old lady perspective at age 77.

I remember walking home from ETHS with Marilyn one day as we both lived on Hinman. Why I remember bits and pieces of that day is a puzzle, and it must have been shortly after Kennedy was inaugurated because we talked a bit about Jaqueline Kennedy--her look, her voice, her sophistication. While I had never thought about the thrill of getting a driver's license until that day when Marilyn brought it up, suddenly she got me thinking about the anticipated freedoms that would bring. Marilyn introduced a bit of sophistication and spice to my 14 year old mind.

During those days when we were so young, Marilyn seemed to me a bit of a rebel, a free-spirit, a little wild, yet with ideas I was happy to emulate. One day when visiting her home, I remember Marilyn's mother, using a voice and manner that was soft, even a bit intimidated, when she asked Marilyn to clean her room. Marilyn boldly ignored her mom--she just turned her back and walked away from this chore! It shocked me a lot and I wondered how Marilyn got away with it. Her family had a live-in housekeeper and as soon as Marilyn's mom left the house for an appointment, the nanny raised her voice directly at Marilyn when she told her to get in her room now! and clean up like her mother said. This time, Marilyn did as she was told. While I never would have tried reacting to my mother as Marilyn had, it got me wondering how and why that relationship was the way it appeared and what was it about the nanny that brought about such instant compliance.

After Marilyn moved to north Evanston on Lincoln, we remained friends. Sitting in her bedroom listening to the Kingston Trio sing, "Scotch and Soda" is another vivid memory flash. I think that was also the day that Marilyn suggested we put sun streaks in our hair, and thinking that was a great idea, I was very agreeable. She kindly supplied the hydrogen peroxide. You can imagine the look we achieved. I went home without any glamorous streaks, but instead had a very large neon-orange patch of damaged straw-like hair on the top of my head. I have no memory how Marilyn's beauty treatment worked for her, but I do remember my mother's reaction when she saw me. Having recently learned that I was also sneaking cigarettes, my mom thought I was on a very bad path. I may or may not have been grounded, but she must have sent me to some salon to have my hair dyed for a more natural color because I don't remember going to school or anywhere else looking like I did.

As it happens with many friendships during the growing up years, my friendship with Marilyn drifted as new friends were made and life grew busier. I do not recall any falling out, we just didn’t hang out in the same way. When Marilyn was absent from school for a long time, perhaps later in sophomore year, I was told that she had contracted mono. We were told that since she missed a lot of school, she was transferred to Ferry Hall so she could catch up. At the time, I wondered if that had been the true reason. I missed her and one Saturday afternoon in junior year, a few of us drove to visit Marilyn at her boarding school. At the time, it seemed so far away from Evanston. After she showed us around Ferry Hall, Marilyn took us to downtown Lake Forest where we wandered a bit. After that one visit, I don't recall staying in touch. (Little did I know that after retiring in 2010, my husband and I moved to Lake Forest not far from Lake Forest Academy or what was once known as Ferry Hall. Fifty years later, it no longer seemed to be such a great distance.)

In 1972, Evanston first held an event the city called, "The World's Largest Garage Sale," located in the new multi-story garage downtown. My husband and I participated and Mrs. Grimes happened by our assigned stall. She stopped to talk, still very polite, quiet, and genteel. At the same time, she struck me as sad and wistful, telling me that Marilyn moved west and joined a commune. Whether that was true or just her mom's perception, I will never know, but since then I've always wondered about Marilyn--what became of her, what her life was like, whether she was happy, and whether she had a loving relationship with her mom. I hoped that she was the same happy free-spirited girl I knew at 14 or 15.

We've all been on different paths, some chosen and some serendipitous, since our very young years when our lives seemed to stretch on for forever. I'm really glad to learn from Bruce that Marilyn followed a path that took her to Taos, living the life she wanted with the freedoms we both had dreamed about many years before when we wondered about getting that ticket to freedom--a driver's license.

Memories of Marilyn

Marilyn and I were friends during our freshman and sophomore years. My family moved to Evanston from Chicago shortly before I enrolled at ETHS and since I didn't know many kids in our class those first months of high school, I have no memory of who may have introduced me to Marilyn or how we came to be friends. But, no matter, we did have fun--maybe a little too much fun from my old lady perspective at age 77.

I remember walking home from ETHS with Marilyn one day as we both lived on Hinman. Why I remember bits and pieces of that day is a puzzle, and it must have been shortly after Kennedy was inaugurated because we talked a bit about Jaqueline Kennedy--her look, her voice, her sophisticated style. We talked about growing up and how we wished we were older. While I had never thought about the thrill of getting a driver's license until that day when Marilyn brought it up, suddenly she got me thinking about the anticipated freedoms that would bring. Marilyn introduced a bit of spice to my 14 year old mind.

During those days when we were so young, Marilyn seemed to me a bit of a rebel, a free-spirit, a little wild, yet with ideas I was happy to emulate. One day when visiting her home, I remember Marilyn's mother, soft spoken, even sounding a bit intimidated, asked Marilyn to clean her room. Marilyn boldly ignored her mom--she just turned her back and walked away from this chore! It shocked me and I wondered how Marilyn got away with it. Her family had a live-in housekeeper and as soon as Marilyn's mom left the house for an appointment, the nanny raised her voice directly at Marilyn when she told her to get in her room now and clean it up like her mother requested. This time, Marilyn did as she was told. While I never would have tried reacting to my mother as Marilyn had, it got me wondering why that relationship was the way it appeared and what was it about the nanny that brought about such instant compliance.

After Marilyn moved to north Evanston on Lincoln, we remained friends. Another flash of memory was sitting in her bedroom listening to the Kingston Trio sing, "Scotch and Soda."  It was one of our favorites as it must have seemed so grown up and sophisticated. I think that was also the day that Marilyn suggested we put sun streaks in our hair, and thinking that was a great idea, I was very agreeable. She kindly supplied the hydrogen peroxide. You can imagine the look we achieved. I went home absent glamorous streaks, but instead with a large neon-orange patch of damaged straw-like hair atop my head. I have no memory how Marilyn's beauty treatment worked for her, but I do remember the look on my mother's face when she saw me. Having recently learned that I was also sneaking cigarettes, the way my mom reacted suggested she thought I was on a very bad path. I may or may not have been grounded, but I was sent to some salon to have my hair dyed back to a more natural color because I don't remember going to school or anywhere else looking like I did.

As it happens with many friendships during the growing up years, Marilyn and I drifted apart as new friends were made and life grew busier. I don’t recall any falling out, we just didn’t hang out in the same way. When Marilyn was absent from school for a long time, perhaps later in sophomore year, I was told that she had contracted mono. We were told that since she missed a lot of school, she was transferred to Ferry Hall so she could catch up. At the time, I wondered if that had been the true reason.

I missed her and one Saturday afternoon in junior year, a few of us drove to visit Marilyn at her boarding school. At the time, it seemed to be quite a distance from Evanston. After she showed us around Ferry Hall, Marilyn took us to downtown Lake Forest where we wandered a bit as teenage girls do, visiting the local drugstore to look at cosmetics. After that one visit, I don't recall staying in touch. (Little did I know then that after retiring in 2010, I would be living with my husband in Lake Forest not far from what was once known as Ferry Hall. (It was not a “full circle” moment, but after fifty years, the distance from Evanston no longer seemed vast—just a stark reminder that those fifty years passed quickly.)

After college, getting married and beginning our careers, in 1972 my husband and I participated in Evanston’s first “World's Largest Garage Sale," held in the new multi-story garage downtown. Mrs. Grimes happened by our assigned stall and she stopped to say hello, still very polite, quiet, and genteel. At the same time, she struck me as sad and wistful after I asked her how Marilyn was doing. She told me that Marilyn moved west and joined a commune. Whether that was true or only how her mom perceived the situation, I will never know, but since then I've wondered about Marilyn--what became of her, what her life was like, whether she was happy, and whether she had a loving relationship with her mom. I wondered if Marilyn was the same happy free-spirited girl, eager to be grown up, that I knew at 14 or 15.

We've all been on different paths, some chosen and some serendipitous, since our very young years when our lives seemed to stretch on forever. I'm really glad to learn from Bruce that Marilyn followed a path that took her to Taos, living the life she wanted with the freedoms we both had dreamed about many years before when we wondered about getting a driver’s license--that teenage ticket to freedom.

Happy belated birthday, Eric. Hope you are well. I’m still wondering if you have kept in contact with your cousins—sisters Vicki and Judi Friedman. Vicki and I were best friends the two and a half years I lived in Rogers Park before moving to Evanston shortly before freshman year. I’d love to connect with her. My husband and I moved to the Seattle area a couple of years ago after living in Lake Forest and Deerfield for over 40 years.

Oh, no! When you know the classmate who died and had an ongoing relationship, albeit only on Facebook, the shock and surprise that she is gone is a clear reminder of our own mortality. I have many memories of Bonnie at ETHS--Friday nights at Plant Room, Brillianteen, and more. She was bold, living a life more daring than many. She loved and was loved and in the end, that's what we all want. I hope her little Teddy will find a loving home. RIP, Bonnie.

Posted on: Apr 08, 2016 at 12:42 PM