I’m totally reeling from this Glen Fog suicide. The police are suspicious of a homicide and questioned me briefly. This certainly appeared to be a suicide. There were many other women who came out of the closet to tell the truth because Glenn Fog is now deceased. It is unfortunate that any women had to endure this monster; however times are changing rapidly post World War II. It seems there are many more creeps; and socially unacceptable behavior is becoming common. The music, books, clothes, cars and attitudes are rapidly changing. It is a good time that the big world war is over. Bernie Sattler’s family is sorry the conflicts continued in Korea because they lost a great son (my friend). Now that Korea is heating, the United States mainland will be responsible for another series of war related support. Can’t anyone set down weapons for a few months or years? Definitely, our society is transforming. Hopefully, it will be for the betterment of everyone. Many GIs have the GI bill which allows free college tuition. That is a tremendous start for the servicemen who saved our country. We all contributed to the effort. My efforts were to finish nursing school and assist as a clothing factory volunteer outside of Milwaukee, Wisconsin on weekends. We sewed GI uniforms until our hands were blistered and bleeding. It all helped because the end result was a win for the Allies in World War II. I’ve always wondered why we didn’t join the League of Nations after World War I? Would that have made an effect that would have saved 50 million lives in a tumultuous war? We will never know that answer.
I cannot complain as I’m working with nurses who were in the South Pacific during World War II. The military nurses cared for marines who had major trauma with minimal resources. Intravenous therapy was primitive, antibiotics had just begun and anesthesia was dangerous. Many lives were lost from uncontrolled anesthetics rather than bleeding, trauma, infection or the injury itself. Nobody wants to admit anesthesia mishaps; but nurses in their private conversations mentioned that many of the anesthetics provided in primitive military settings resulted in deaths and near deaths. It was an uncontrolled situation; and everybody did the best clinical job under the extreme circumstances. Many of the field anesthetics were administered by barely trained technicians. Certified registered nurse anesthetists (CRNAs) or physicians were not administering many of the medications for surgical anesthesia. Our upgraded anesthesia in Monroe, Wisconsin is tremendous with both trained CRNAs and anesthesiologists (physicians). Our situation at home is under strict standards and conditions for both surgical and obstetric anesthesia. I was impressed when I arrived in private practice nursing at St. Claire Hospital. Most clinical treatments have become the very highest standard of care.
The military nursing stories are endless with major casualties and many GIs dying while waiting for specific treatments. Many soldiers bled to their death due to lack of resources. World War II was certainly a trying time. We provide every possible resource to military families in Green County, Wisconsin. The superb donation is that the hospital and physicians in many cases waive fees for families if they are uninsured. I’m rallying around these families because most seem to be producing large families. I’m getting to know many new families in my home, Green County, Wisconsin. The entire extended family comes to the hospital for pictures with the new baby. I’ve met many of the immediate and extended family members. It usually slips out that I’m available; but nothing comes of this fact. I feel the entire Green County population feels I’m a widow; but, I’m not. Bernie Sattler is gone, a war hero. We never dated; yet the county feels we were engaged. I’m moving on as Dot Asper (librarian friend) says we all advance after losing a loved one. This is such a rewarding and truly revealing time post World War II. Magazines are terming this the baby boom. All these kids being hatched are now termed baby boomers. The birth rate is unprecedented. There has never been in our American history such a rush to have children, pregnancies and develop a family. Families generally bring happiness; though, we do have some horror stories. Overall, I love the entire labor and delivery hospital experience as an obstetric RN. I have to deal with occasional patients delivering babies early that ultimately die (maybe a good thing long term). Some families have repeated miscarriages, babies with birth defects and an occasional Mom has her fertility removed through bleeding postpartum, infection or another illness such as systemic lupus erythematosus (recent patient of mine).
If I only have this monster, Glenn Fog, to worry about (and now not worry because he’s dead), I’m quite alright. I don’t need to concern myself with him now; and I’m required to just remove this monster from my memory. This will maintain my sanity. At least I can honestly say I was not raped or assaulted. It was a matter of time before the next few abominable things against women in our hospital would have occurred. I’m in emotional recovery; or a a zone of analyzing matters quite intensely. I’m not thinking clear regarding some matters in my life. I’m flip-flopping regarding moving out of the house. My sister, Mary, may be moving back home to Aurora, Illinois. Rollie, her husband, has finished his tour with Chiang Kai-Shek. Rollie is supposedly coming home in a few days. The Asian corridor is quite unsettled after the war. The world is beset with the Korean peninsula war, China’s unrest and many countries wanting to liberate after years of domination by a more powerful mother country. Many in the United States feel we should be isolationists. I’m neutral on the matter; because we need to protect our home interests overseas. Political will and policy is very complicated. The good thing is that we won’t be pulled into another war barring a national security concern by our country or its allies. Thus, perhaps Rollie will be home to work his General Electric job as engineer indefinitely. I will love that he’s returned unscathed. He is always in harm’s way. I’m certain he’ll have many stories about Asia. Rollie returning will assist in my emotional recovery over Glenn Fog.
I’ve been asked to play the organ at church on a regular basis at 1030 mass on Sundays. I feel fortunate compared to many returning men and women from the European and Asian portions of World War II. My emotional recovery will include being as busy as possible to keep my mind off this monster, Glenn Fog. I understand at some point in their lives, most women must deal with sexual harassment issues. The golden rule in our society still is to take care of it yourself. I’m fortunate that this guy is never to be seen again. Apparently, he had some family near Ripon, Wisconsin. He was buried near his parents I read in the Monroe Evening Times, our daily 6 day/week newspaper. I’m moving on by being a busy female beaver. I maintain my perfect job (for me). I was born to be an obstetric RN. I love labor, treating pregnant women and delivering babies. There is nothing better than obstetrics to maintain my sanity after Glenn Fog’s attacks. I also love music of all types. Church and mass related music cleanse the soul. It is an honor to play the organ at St. Victor’s Catholic Church in Monroe, Wisconsin. I love it; and it will assist in my private emotional recovery from the hospital incident with Glenn Fog, the woman attacker.
The Latin Mass has some idiosyncrasies that lend themselves to superb Gothic type music. I can relate to the beautiful effects of the mass. The offertory, consecration and communion combine to form a perfect sacrifice. The mass has been perfected over centuries. I love High Masses because they eloquently expose Catholic Doctrine. The perfect parts blend the lyrics and composition of the Latin mass with music handed down from European masters. The requiem of service through organ music blends itself well with the present Latin Catholic mass. My cousin, John, Zuercher, will be presiding over his first mass shortly. He’s been a stout Jesuit since his days as an undergraduate theology major at Marquette. He assists as a server in Monroe and Brodhead churches in Green County, Wisconsin. John Zuercher (Chicago bred) is a true patron and disciple of God. John is from the southern portion of the Zuercher family that entered Chicago and made cheese for a living. I’m from the northern Zuercher sect. We are all committed Catholics, have hard working ethics and support all family and friends vigorously. I love it!
After recovering to a degree from Glenn Fog’s advances and ultimate death, I received a call from Dot Asper. She’s heard rumors around Green County, Wisconsin that Fog was a severely deranged guy that was smart and avoided imprisonment repeatedly. His records were squashed; and thus, few instances of his criminal and unethical activity is on record. Dot, as Monroe public librarian, has searched countless records and can find nothing on Glenn Fog. I feel we will ultimately find something leading to his death. He may have murdered or dismembered another in an unsolved tragedy elsewhere. Dot has heard that this Fog guy was a Houdini escape artist. He probably repeatedly had changed names, found trouble throughout the state and was able to conceal himself recurrently. This is woeful, sad and scary for such a small town to incur such a monster that was allowed to roam. We may have had multiple murders before it was solved. Fog probably was intent on injuring many and then escaping in the middle of the night. I’m haunted by this guy; but I endeavor to move on and compete my emotional recovery. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist. No, there are so many vets seeing these supportive mental health providers where there is a vast shortage. I love what we have here in Monroe, but we need to build upon our mental health services. A degree in psychology doesn’t place one into a counselor necessarily. One needs advanced degrees, counseling education and the ability and drive to improve another’s mental health. The war stress syndrome is overloading the system; and I feel compelled to allow the military related people the availability of the system we have established through the Monroe Clinic and St. Claire Hospital.
Dot calls again to discuss Fog; and by now I’m through with him and moving on. She wants to have a beer at Turner Hall on Friday night after work. I said my profession may make me stay late on Fridays. If, however, the labor and delivery deck is quiet to a degree, I’ll be there. It would be fun to dance the jitterbug and a few other swing favorites. The band that plays may adapt to our modern dances. Most of Monroe shows up at Turner Hall on the weekends for fun and relaxation. The food is all Swiss; and the swiss cheese fondue is my favorite. I can’t say enough regarding the nightlife in Monroe, Wisconsin. It’s perfect for a married couple; but far from perfect for a single lady (like Dot Asper and myself).
I honestly talked to Dot regarding my life in Monroe, Wisconsin. I wanted to return home to Green County because I was extremely homesick. I don’t know if I’ve made the correct decision. I’m involved with Sunday choir and playing the organ at St. Victor’s, have the very best RN job and love my hospital friends and acquaintances. Dot and I both ultimately get to the no guy topic. Since the war has occurred, there are far more available females than males. Many guys our age never returned. The single ladies are competing with war widows (many).The cumulative veterans that returned are suffering from wounds emotionally and physically. There is no way out for many of these guys. Our family volunteers at the military Veterans of Foreign Wars in Monroe, Wisconsin. The place is stuffed with injuries, disgruntled guys, alcoholism and families that have gone awry. Shirley and Halet Tompkins are now separated with 2 kids and she is expecting. My old tennis partner on the Cheesemaker team could no longer handle the stress, drugs and marriage going nowhere. We’ve tried to play tennis; but end up talking. I’m the rehabilitation counselor. She cannot obtain help because the mental health services in Green County are swamped. War eats mostly guys, has a strong indirect effect on families and its effects are for years to lifetimes. War is awful in so many ways. Should women run the world?
Dot mentioned that the situation for me in Chicago if I went with Bess (RN who worked with Mary) would be the same. The statistics for guys finding a relationship is considerably more advantageous than girls everywhere. Realistically, most of the guys you meet are a mess from the war. Where in the world would I find a nice man? Dot (attractive) has given up. The guys she has met at the library had emotional, physical or alcohol issues. It is not easy; and it is just luck that a gal finds the right guy. A meaningful relationship is all I’m asking. I look around at Turner Hall and I see elderly and middle aged couples. These people I see in church and in the hospital occasionally. They cling to one another so tightly, and appear happy. A divorce in our county is worse than 100 mortal sins. The black marks on the soul is nothing compared to the disdain the community provides when a couple divorces. I don’t want anything close to this; but Shirley Tompkins will probably end her marriage because her husband is drunk every evening. Halet Tompkins has no hope of ever returning to a sober existence at present. Shirley is trapped because Halet can’t care for himself. Yet, he claims to want equal custody with a baby on the way. What a mess!
I still feel that moving to Chicago, Illinois may be the best option for myself. Salaries are better, the population with young people is growing and I’m certainly becoming an old maid like Dot Asper in Green County, Wisconsin. People marrying now still have the claim of being a war bride because they are marrying war guys. Every guy I’ve met at the hospital has baggage – including alcohol, active marriage they’ve lied about, psychiatric issues or inability to maintain a job. Mom wouldn’t allow me to get near any of these guys. Some guys have walked up to the door with flowers. After Mom sizes them; they are gone (poof). She just says he is not right for you. Mom is protecting me from a bad marriage. When this happens, I know I need to move away – at least down the block if not another community. We’ve talked about moving to Monticello or New Glarus in Green County, Wisconsin. There are issues of getting to work, rent and little contact with other humans after work. Our county has a number of small communities including the above and Belleville, Browntown, Brodhead, Cadiz, Decatur, Albany, Exeter, Clarno, Jefferson and Brooklyn. Some of these communities have less than 100 people. There just is not much of a population (guys) in this county. I don’t want to be an old maid like Dot Asper. If I stay in Green County, I will be an old maid.
Dot and I ended up talking until 0100 Sunday AM. I walked home and both my parents were sleeping. Mary was up and not feeling well with her pregnancy. I instructed Mary that if Rollie returns she can hopefully return soon to Aurora, Illinois. Her unoccupied house has been watched by superb neighbors. These people love the Rollie Cote family. Everyone in Illinois is awaiting the birth of the baby (James). Mary feels it is a boy. Wow, I love that my sister is having a baby. She will always be a couple steps ahead of me in this world – so be it. All I want is eternal happiness. I cannot probably find it in Monroe, Wisconsin. In such a small populated and rural county, I have to endure emotional effects of Glenn Fog, the monster who has paraded my mind. I cannot get him out of my mind except by saying thankfully I wasn’t stalked or raped. It’s hard to talk to Mom about this because she as an adoptee has been through more than I’ll ever understand. She endured years of torment and being not wanted. Her train to Oklahoma has never left her. She left a family we know very little about because she was so young and traveled between foster homes. Some of these homes were fruitful; but many were sub-par. It’s hard for me to mention one bad encounter with a male monster who committed suicide. I fall asleep with much on mind after three Huber beers (considerable for me). I dream of having a big home, four children, a big yard and burning leaves in the Fall.
I awake in the morning and Mary is up early wanting to talk. We talk about the baby and how it will affect everyone’s lives. Rollie is making substantial money through the military and with General Electric as an engineer. GE maintained his salary while he was in Indochina. Mary will not be required to work; but may work weekends at the local hospital to maintain her nursing skills. She wanted to know if I would possibly come to Aurora, stay with her and Rollie for a period of time, and work locally. I said that would be intruding; and the setup wouldn’t be a fair sister relationship. Mary has a baby and husband to attend. Mary and Rollie are a bit different and don’t mind me within the house. I said I would think about this; as I’ve already given some thought to joining Bess as an RN in Chicago, moving back to Milwaukee or the far fetched Denver move that keeps coming up by our Marquette dormies. I said I was in limbo and recovering from the Glenn Fog mess. It would take time just to get over what that Fog could have done to me (assault, stalk or rape). I can’t get this monster out of my mind; and I don’t know if moving would enhance my recovery. Moving could make things worse.
I did relate that a single professional girl in Monroe, Wisconsin has minimal chance to find a compatible husband or steady relationship. Mary agreed; and would convince Mom and Dad that moving elsewhere to a more populated area would be in everyone’s beneficial interest. Mary said that life was always a touch easier for her within our family. She finally admitted to being favored by our parents (or so it seems). I seconded that with James, our Jesuit brother, coming in a close second place. I’m always in last place, still living at home and on my way to being an old maid. I mentioned Dot Asper. Mary barely knew Dot; but realized she was beautiful. Dot Asper was not marrying just anyone. Dot had some religious family obligations (Protestant v Catholic thing) that prevented her from marrying. She decided to stay home, and not attend college because of family illness and obligations. She has become a very good close friend; and reminds me of many dormies at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I love her to death; and feel sorry for her. Dot Asper has adapted and feels that being an old maid in Monroe, Wisconsin is her lot in life. I’m heading down this road. I feel it and want to stop this freight train. Mary (sister) has a married relationship. Brother James has a special relationship with God. Why can’t I have a relationship? It’s just not too much to ask.
I roam to work early the next day after a great night’s sleep. I feel good and have a 12 hour shift awaiting. There are 5 laboring patients and two scheduled Caesarean Sections for surgery. I know I will be busy. Most of our laboring patients are receiving twilight intramuscular anesthesia (Scopolamine, Demerol and Phenergan). Many women forget labor or cannot feel labor contractions well with this combination of medications (the triple). This helps labor immensely. Occasionally, a patient goes delirious with the medications, but most are somnolent and sleep through labor additionally. Some women have a caudal catheter placed for an infusion of local anesthetics. This “tops off” a difficult labor and helps ease the baby from the pelvis. Caudal catheters (small tubes between the sacrum and coccyx) are then placed by the anesthesiologist or certified registered nurse anesthetist. This helps make the pelvis numb for delivery. The sharp pain of delivery is eased immensely by these low catheters. We have an excellent anesthesia service at St. Claire Hospital for birthing Mom and Moms needing surgical deliveries.
This day is busy with immense amounts of complications, frustrated obstetricians and ancillary help calling in sick. Nothing is clicking easily; but somehow we’ll all get through the day. I had to deliver a couple babies again in the hall because our laboring rooms were full. Women had to spend more time than usual in the laboring rooms due to bleeding post partum. These gals are fortunate we have some advances to avoid a hysterectomy postpartum. The uterine balloons, medications such as methergine and uterine massage help immensely. It is a travesty to lose fertility after delivering a baby; but it happens, unfortunately. I’m having a sandwich in the cafeteria and this young reasonable good internal medicine physician sits next to me and starts talking. He wants to ask me out. I know nothing regarding this guy except that he was snappy on the phone a few weeks ago when we asked him to consult for a bleeding problem post delivery. Now, he’s very nice. I have no history; thus, I’m unprepared.
The internist never shuts his mouth. I don’t know what to make of this except I have maybe ten minutes to eat. He tries to joke, but his jokes are not funny. He tells a Swiss joke not realizing I’m of Swiss descent. I see another OB nurse (Stephanie) across the cafeteria who is motioning like a knife across the front of the neck. That means trouble. I should not have sat alone; but I didn’t know anyone else or it appeared I’d be intruding on a group discussion that was private. I remove myself and he kind of grabs me by the hand. Whoa! He asked me for a date and I’m spellbound. I don’t know what to say; so I say I’ll think about it. I would have said yes except for the hand motion of my OB floor nurse across the room. He then asked when I would inform him of my answer and I said tomorrow. He was good with that answer; but I’m not. There is something not right. I speed walk up the stairs to the OB floor (5th floor). I don’t know what to think. It is still busy; and I’m in a real tizzy. I want to go dig a hole and bury myself. I get lost in a delivery with a very nice obstetrician and family. They want me to come to the first birthday party of the baby. I regretfully decline because it is a conflict of interest for a nurse to become personally involved with patients (hospital bylaws). My mind has not erased this internist request for a real date.
I note Stephanie has arrived back on the floor. She is so cool and seemingly knows all. I ask her to inform me what is going on. She instructs me that this internist (Dr. Radd) asks everyone out for a date. I said I’m not getting it. Apparently, (per Stephanie), this guy was embroiled in a bitter divorce last year with young children. He is fairly mean spirited. I said my only encounter was not perfect because he didn’t want to consult yet he was on call. I didn’t know what to do except potentially report him to administration. Eventually, however, that may haunt yourself. Doctors have a method of getting back against you in many ways. They will fib about poor nursing, tell patients that nursing care was poor (unfair hospital reviews) and lie to administration. I’ve seen this a few times. Thus, I never reported Dr. Radd. Maybe, I should have. Then again, even if he knew I had reported him, that wouldn’t stop him from asking me for a date.
This guy has baggage. I don’t want to be involved in a relationship with a previously married guy who has children. I don’t want to be a step mom. I want a normal life. Perhaps, Stephanie said I could test this guy out. I replied that I would not. My mother would be on life support if she knew. Mary, my sister, will find out about this and instruct me to hang tight. Mary would object to this guy entering my life. Besides, he not only asked me out for a date; he asked the entire nursing corps. How do I get into such a mess?
I walk home planning on what to tell him. I want to call him tonight; and inform him of what my decision will be. I love the Fall weather; and a trip to our cabin this weekend sounds yummy. I arrive at home and I see a new sports car. I walk up the stairs to our house and Mom and Dr. Radd are talking. I immediately faint. They pick me up and place me on the couch and spray water on my face. I don’t know what to think. Dr. Radd tries to talk to me. Mom starts talking about what a nice man that was honored to meet his daughter. Dad enters the driveway. I’m totally trapped; and must find a way out. I fake more illness and state that I feel nauseous and tired. It’s been a long day. I need rest and want to rest in bed. I’m helped upstairs to my bedroom. I sleep a couple hours. I awake and Dr. Radd is now talking to both Mom and Dad. Oh, my God!. I stay in bed and he finally leaves about 11 PM. I travel downstairs and Mom and Dad are smiling. This is good because many times during youth they were not smiling.
Mom states how nice a young man he is. Dad agrees. Am I missing something? I spill my beans that he’s asked everyone in the hospital for a date, has little kids, is snappy to nurses and has baggage. I don’t want this relationship nor to be a step mom. I want normalcy. I cry and go back upstairs and cry myself to sleep. I know I want out of the house now. Mary is leaving in a week when Rollie returns from IndoChina. I want normalcy. I’m not getting it; and Dr. Radd has hoodwinked my parents. They really like this guy. I don’t.
I awaken and still love my mother’s oatmeal. It is the world’s very best cereal for a good day. It is sweet, thick and quenches your appetite all day. I could live without Mom’s oatmeal, but I’d pay a dear price. Besides, it’s good to have someone to discuss worldly matters in the morning. Mom loves to talk; and well, Dad loves to not talk. Guys other than Dr. Radd (lonely) live that way. I’m not the answer for a recently dumped internist. I want a fresh romantic relationship and not live with a guy who has committed a mortal sin by the Catholic Church (divorce). Additionally, since he’s been married in another non Catholic Church, he can never marry in the Catholic Church. That is divine law of the Roman Catholic Church. Apparently, his former wife is so hopping upset regarding Dr. Radd, that an annulment is out of the question. Why am I thinking this anyway? He grabbed me similar to Glenn Fog. I don’t like guys that grab girls without knowing them. Dr. Radd is delaying my emotional recovery from Glen Fog. I need to move to Chicago or Denver. I’ll inform my parents tonight. It is that simple.
I return to the hospital very tired the next day with a long shift again confronting myself. I talk to Stephanie and inform her of the events surrounding Dr. Radd. Stephanie says that I’m not the first to have Dr. Radd self invited to their home. I’m in a state of shock. He’s no less of a monster than Glenn Fog. I’m still recovering from the Glenn Fog provocation. Stephanie laughs and says just to be upfront with the internist and he’ll leave. I take her advice and a couple of hours later at the bubbler I’m confronted by Dr. Radd. He wants an answer and I say no. He stares at me and then leaves without saying a word. It worked – really worked. This will hasten my recovery from Glenn Fog through Dr. Radd. I hate this because none of the guys I met in Milwaukee while dating in college were anything close to these monsters in Monroe. I’m out there, available and people think I’ll latch onto whatever latches onto me first. That will not happen. I need to get through this. Maybe I’ll attend the yodeling of my aunts in New Glarus Saturday evening. Bertha and Lydia are so well known for their yodeling throughout the state. Their events are well attended. Who knows-maybe some decent guys may appear. Yodeling is not a planned guy event generally. It’s only true Swiss that love yodeling because it reminds them of home.
I grab a bratwurst and sit with a bunch of gals I know at lunch. Stephanie is also there. Dr. Radd has moved onto the pediatric floor and a nurse has accepted him for a date. Did I blow it? No, I didn’t. I did the correct thing. I just don’t trust this guy; and every nurse in this hospital doesn’t trust Dr. Radd either. I’m making good decisions; and have allowed my parents to realize they were hoodwinked. I enjoy the bratwurst from New Glarus. The meats from these small meat shops are tremendous. Ethnic food is superb; and in Green County, the best food is Swiss. The cheese is probably the best in the world. It is a very competitive business with the Zuercher cheese in Chicago competing with our cousins from Green County, Wisconsin. It is a ton of very hard work from the cow milking and processing the cheese. Nothing is easy; however, it becomes very uphill when there are excellent cheese factories spread throughout the county. I cannot eat enough cheese on specific days after a long day at work. My parents universally have family cheese in the refrigerator.
I finally allowed myself to attend the Zuercher Girls yodeling. They entered a contest and won easily ($25). This allowed them a great dinner and a chance to maintain the family tradition. I cannot imagine these two single great aunts ever being apart. They attend mass at St. Rose of Lima in Brodhead, Wisconsin daily. These two disciples of God teach religion weekly to both adults and children. They are wonderful people who never quit inviting me to their beautiful Brodhead home. It is 5 stories counting the loft. It was constructed near the turn of the century by a guild of carpenters who wanted to compose a superb practical structure. The house is in the middle of the town of Brodhead, Wisconsin. Our family cheese business is located in Brodhead, Wisconsin. I love the true commitment to the cheese business despite the competition within the county and state. There is no better cheese than Zuercher cheese (my relatives cheese).
Tomorrow at work we’re having a career day with the schools in Green County, Wisconsin. Most of the students will have exposure to RNs, physicians, techs and administrative officials. It will be exciting to have youth amidst our patients. Youth provides the energy for our country; and won World War II. The heavy price we paid through youth is all encompassing. The military and civilian respect for the military is at an all time high. Vets are returning to college in record numbers in the late 40s, kids are interested in medical advancements and there is much to be learned from our youth. Many are leery of the future when they witness disabled vets; yet, some are inspired by our country and its military might. We easily could have been under Nazi rule. It was close; and our great generals and active military allowed us to maintain our freedom. We can never be thankful enough in the United States. I should never complain when the travesty surrounding our country is easily evident in Green County, Wisconsin.
A bus dropped a flock of junior high students who immediately saw myself walking in front of their bus. I was surrounded and many wanted my autograph because I had full white nursing garb. I smiled and gave a little speech. I invited many up to the obstetric floor so they may be able to witness a delivery. Much of this depends on patient acceptance; however, most patients want to be involved with inspiring youth into a medical career. Nursing is a prime choice for many females. Only the occasional male will enter nursing skill. I always inform the students that nurse means “nurture.” I then entered the building and actually felt strong about my position as head Obstetric Nurse. I’m fairly happy with my position; and I’ll never give it up barring my release. Mom and Dad have encouraged myself to never take my position for granted; as I want to stay with a great name. I’m still considering moving – perhaps, to Chicago, Milwaukee or Dubuque. Rockford, Illinois has an opening for an RN Head Obstetric Nurse with experience required. I would fit into this role nicely.
I’m not crazy about Rockford, Illinois. It is considerably bigger than Monroe, Wisconsin. I just feel my private life will be forever interrupted by my parents constantly. I could live seeing them monthly. This scenario will be never ending. I’ve achieved a few good friends in Monroe, Wisconsin. Most of my college buds have left the Milwaukee area and are now splintering throughout the midwest. The great post World War II economic boom has been a godsend for the United States. I strongly feel the easiest method for me to survive would be live in larger city that is close to home. Any city would do; because, I could find some RN work. I just need to make a decision. And there is still considerable discussion regarding a group of Marquette dormies going to Denver in search of a better life. I’m confused.
I remain optimistic that I’ll enter a golden loving relationship with the opposite sex. Though some women never achieve this goal in life, it is a realistic expectation. There are guys of all types in our area. I’m capable of loving more than one person. It has to click on both sides for a relationship. I want to be a touch selfish when it comes to guy relationships. In my mind the heterosexual relationship has to make sense. Many are formed based on sexual needs, family desires and strong yearning to settle. The right person must be right; otherwise, an annulment would ensue. I want this Mister Right to be a jack of all trades, unblemished looking and honest. I envision a knight in shining armour. It will come.
I can only hope that my mother never finds my diary. She would unleash a nuclear attack upon me most likely. Then again, she went through some very trying youth experiences. Mom may understand how I feel. At times Mom seems so regimented in her mannerisms. That is good because her marriage and ritual life works. Mom is a fine tuned machine that is predictable. I’m the only one who is unpredictable within the family. Mom will ensure that I have the best job, play the organ at church (I love it) and marry the absolute correct Catholic guy who is so clean. This non – smudged up guy will need to be a ten for Mom. I won’t have to do anything for the wedding; because Mom is a total control freak. I can only hope I meet the right guy. The main problem is that I’m probably moving to find this right guy. My dormies all agree; and they feel they want RN jobs and guys. Denver, Colorado is the place to be. And that may be where I have both work and love. Mom will bear kittens when I inform her of this fact. Mary will be gone by that time; and I’ll not be talked into not leaving by my sister. I’m certain once Mary hears of a possible Colorado move, Mary and Rollie will be down to squash my proposed move.
I have the weekend off and have zero plans. Dot Asper wants to get together. She’s fun and we have in depth discussions of the entire cultural aspect of Green County, Wisconsin. There is no gossip that escapes Dot Asper. She is a magnet for information most people cannot acquire. I strongly suspect Dot will remain an old maid and know everyone in the county. I feel she enjoys her role, has a new best friend in me and is glad she’s helping her family in need rather than leaving for college. Dot is probably the most solid person I know. She is faithful to her protestant faith and is a very fair person. She will live and die in Monroe, Wisconsin. Perhaps a day will come and a guy will walk right through the library doors and into Dot’s life. What a dream!
Most likely I’ll head to Decatur (eastern portion of Green County) to enjoy the lake with my parents. It’s Fall; and there will be few people present. It is so beautiful with the Fall leaves, light wind and cool temperatures. Dad will probably fish and Mom will “winterize” the cabin. There is much to do – including raking leaves, pull boats out of the water on pulleys, remove the pier from the water, flush the water pipes, plant mouse traps (I hate mice more than anything) and lock all the windows and doors. It’s rare that we have mischief at our cabin; but it can occur. The garage is bolted and most of our tools and outdoor equipment stays at the lake. The Chicago crowd has all left after Labor Day. It is quiet and I’m excited about a relaxing weekend stay. Mom and Dad will be working all weekend. I’ll try to find some time to work on my diary and read. Life magazine has some great stories about returning GIs that have prospered. That will be a great read. I’ve also got my hands on a book recommended by Dot Asper, our librarian. The book is: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. It looks yummy. I certainly hope I have some time to lay on our hammock by the lake. It will be quiet and a proper time to read. My Dad will have a Hamm’s beer and enjoy Mom’s superb cooking. We’ve always had a cabin on Decatur Lake; and the Fall is the very best time to be there. I love it. And it will also give me time to discuss moving out of the home with Mom and Dad. The big question is moving out of Green County to Chicago, Milwaukee or Denver, Colorado. I’ll wait until Dad downs a couple beers before I break the news.
I sit down at supper with fresh smallmouth bass from Decatur Lake that is fried to a crisp. The potatoes and beans appear yummy also. We sit at the table and say the Lord’s Prayer. Prior to moving food with manners, Mom asks me when I’m planning to move to Denver, Colorado. I gulp, cry and stare at Dad. I’m in a trance. Mom has obviously read my diary.