Clarke Memories

"Had I the heavens embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths,
Of night and light, and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams."
William Butler Yeats

Muff loved Yeats, and had the above poem memorized. She often used it as a short audition piece for the theater dept at Clarke.

I met Muff when I'd only been at Clarke for a week. I was settled in my own room at Mary Benedict Hall (called Mary Ben) and was on my way back from supper when I noticed a walking stack of books coming toward the elevator at Mary Ben. Seriously, it was like the books had sprouted legs. Being a bibliophile since age 4, I recognized a fellow book nut, and I HAD to find out who was behind that prodigous stack of literature. So I peeked around it at the sweet face of my soon-to-be best friend, who had two long braids of brown hair and soulful brown eyes. She was only around 5 feet 2 inches tall, so she was struggling to keep the books from toppling out of her arms, and I introduced myself and offered to help her carry her books to her dorm room.
We started chatting about books, discovered that we liked many of the same kinds of books, and Muff abruptly said "Are you rooming alone?" When I confirmed that I was, she asked "Can I move in with you? I have a relentlessly chipper cheerleader type for my roomate who is actually a morning person, and she's driving me crazy." As I am not a morning person either, and I have a deep dislike of cheerleaders as well, I agreed, and soon we were sharing a room that was set up like Felix and Oscars bachelor pad on the TV show "The Odd Couple." My side of the room was ridiculously neet, and hers was a huge mess of old food containers, clothing, shoes, papers, books and records.
Muff was a huge Celtophile, and loved all things Irish because of her Irish heritage on her mothers side. That year she introduced me to a host of Irish bands and Celtic music, among them the Irish Rovers, the Chieftains, The Dubliners and The Wolftones. She insisted that I read Leon Uris's "Trinity" (which was one of the hardest books I've ever had to read) and that I read James Joyce and Yeats and Oscar Wilde, any author with Irish heritage or lineage was fair game. Then we'd be required to dissect the novel or short story, and discuss all the plot intricacies, metaphors, etc. It was like having an English professor for a roomate! Muff also loved the Doors, Pete Townsend of the Who, and certain musicals or plays, such as Cyrano, Playboy of the Western World, and Juno and the Paycock. She adored Dickens, mainly because he wrote about the underdog who triumphs in the end. That first year, I won the title role in the "Great Cross Country Race" which was the story of the tortoise and the hare, and Muff won the role of Basket the dog, my sidekick, while my dear friend Monica (Nease) Jenkins won the role of the snappy and witty hare. The three of us had a blast learning our lines and doing that childrens play, and the drama dept had to add on shows because it was so popular that kids were coming by the busload for miles to see it. There was a point in the play where I was supposed to do a Jackie Gleason style dance with the hare in front of the stage, and I just couldn't do it, having had two left feet my whole life. Tom Score, the director, told Muff and Monica to take me to the student union, affectionately called "the Onion" and get me drunk and teach me how to dance. I knew nothing of this directive, of course, so when Muff and Monica escorted me to the Onion and sat a pitcher of beer in front of me, I had no clue what they were planning. I'd never had a drink before in my life, and I certainly didn't like the looks of that pitcher of beer, which had a funny smell. Monica advised "Just drink it down quickly and you won't have to taste it." So I did, and I don't remember much of anything else about the evening. Apparently I was dancing on the tables and doing a fine job of making an idiot out of myself in front of the entire student body. But I could certainly do the dance the next day in rehearsal, no problem. (I still can't stand beer, to this day).
Muff put photos of her brothers on her bulletin board in our dorm room, and they looked so adorable and sweet, and her anecdotes about them were so delightful, I had BJ, Michael, Bear and Danny in my head as little boys, though I knew they had grown up over the years, gotten married, and had children of their own. But I fell in love with Muffs whole family that first year at Clarke, because her tales of them were so vivid and fascinating. Muff had a talent for both oral and written storytelling that I think was passed down to her by her famed mother, childrens book author Jean Russell Larson. She could tell a story about Danny as googoonanafoodoo, the swashbuckling superhero, that would have myself and anyone else listening in stiches, laughing so hard we were crying. Her colorful clan was only part of her storytelling, though. Muff would often pick a book that she'd loved and read it aloud to anyone willing to listen, which, by the time we were seniors, was half the college. She would do voices, have expressions and gestures that just made the book come alive. She would also write 'sagas' as she called them, about her favorite baseball player (Bill Buckner for awhile, then she moved on) or her favorite movie star or rock star who had a new video out. Muff and I watched the advent of MTV together on a TV in "Red Wing" the dreaded haunted wing of Mary Francis Hall in 1982 or 83, I can't remember which, and after that first playing of "Video Killed the Radio Star" Muff turned to me and said "It'll never last."
When I got the lead in Sam Shepards "Buried Child" in 83, I was terrified I'd not be able to memorize all the lines and do a decent job, and Muff kept assuring me that I'd do fine, and then she went around her room in Mary Fran and put sticky notes on all the items in the room, telling how the related to me. "Given as a gift by the leading lady" said a note on a pair of boots, "Borrowed by the leading lady" it said on a stack of books. I was never so touched by a gesture of faith as that one.
Muff was there for the invasion of the Saudi Arabians when they came to Clarke not for an education, but mainly on a crusade to rape and pillage as many infidel American women as possible during one semester. They all had the same name, "Abdul" except for one short guy named Charlie. They didn't want to learn from nuns, because, as women, nuns were not supposed to know anything or even be literate, so they felt free to ignore classes, and they had plenty of money, so they bought sports cars, jewelry and air conditioners to send home. They were appalled that the cafeteria served pork, because as Muslims that was a forbidden food, so one day several Abduls sped across the countryside in a fancy red sports car until they located a goat. They ran over the poor thing, tied it to the hood of the sports car, and dragged the bloody carcass into the cafeteria, where they dropped it at the feet of Larry, (or Larondo, as he was nicknamed by the students) our 300 pound Boston-born chef. They pointed to the goat and at Larondo and said "Cook!" Like a guy who is used to getting industrial-sized boxes, bags and cans of food is going to have any clue how to butcher and prepare a dead goat! Muff was working in the cafe that day, and had to run into the back room to laugh because she knew if Larry saw her watching him sputter, he'd be furious. Muff had a lot of work study to do to help pay for her room and board at Clarke, and she was given the onerous task of cleaning up after the Abduls once they'd been expelled for dozens of traffic tickets and a couple of rapes. They claimed diplomatic immunity, so were never held accountable for all they did to flout our laws while they were here. Anyway, they also seemed to not know how to use flush toilets, instead using their rooms for facilities, and generally making a horrible stinking mess. I offered to help Muff clean the rooms, but she insisted on doing the majority of it herself.
Muff dated an Iranian student named Kamel, who was very handsome, but also culturally hidebound in his beliefs that women knew nothing and were not to be trusted or treated with kindness and care. He and Muff had a rocky relationship, where he used her for everything he could get, and wouldn't give anything of himself. The only other relationship I knew that Muff had was with an older man who was her boss at a local maidrite, and he also was using her, as he was married at the time of their affair. I think Muff probably compared all men to her handsome, accomplished brothers and found them wanting. I know she tried several dating web sites at my insistance, but was disappointed in the men who responded to her ad. But she didn't feel confident enough in herself to carry on a relationship, assuming that men wanted to only take from her. It makes me sad to think that she never married and had children, because I know that was a dream she held dear, to "hold a child of my own in my arms," as she once told me.
During our last phone conversation in January, I told Muff that if I ever managed to adopt a child from an Asian country, as my husband and I had planned to do before we had Nick, I would name the girl child after her, because she was such a wonderful person and friend. I hope to one day be able to fulfill that promise.