S/he'd be 55 now

 1967

Elizabethan Drama Class

 

The professor in the course was the most demanding I've ever had. It was the third course I took with him, not because I'm masochistic, but because his lectures were fascinating.

Although it was Elizabethan drama we read 30+ Greek and Roman plays as "scanty information" and any fragments to complete plays that were written between the Greek and Romans and what appeared on the Elizabethan stage. We also read most of the plays that were on stage during that time period.

Did I mention the prof was a bit of a sadist in the work he buried us with. He was also so far in the closet it would take an archeological team to dig him out. He was my advisor for the yearbook of which I was editor. I respected his knowledge, his teaching ability, the way he gave a clear answer to any question, although I wouldn't go so far as to say I liked him.

It was my senior year and I was physically exhausted from working almost full time in a dry cleaner, a full course load and keeping as near to perfect home as possible for my now ex husband. This was pre-Betty Friedan. Had it been after Betty, I would have done things differently.

The prof was discussing the final. "There will be no makeups. If you miss it, you will get an F." His eyes circled the room and landed on the other Donna in class, who barely fit behind her desk.

"I would make an exception for you, if you're in labor during the exam. Just bring the baby to my office as proof."

I have no idea why I thought of that today. I can still see Donna with her long hair and huge belly. She wasn't at graduation, although we heard she had graduated. I never followed up. We weren't not friends, but not not friends either, just two women fighting complications in our lives to get our degrees.

I don't know if she had a son and daughter, but the child would be 55 today if all went well, 23 years older than his/her mother was when she sat in the Elizabethan drama class. 

My writer's imagination can conjure up all sorts of stories about what happened next that could be worked into short stories. Instead, I think I'll just write this blog.