When I chose classes for my second semester at Marquette, I made sure that my History 002 discussion teacher was Larry Woods again. Not only was he studying for his doctorate, he had numerous anecdotal stories from the time periods Father Donnelly covered in the lectures.
One unforeseen benefit of the class was it being the meeting place of my first college girlfriend, Maureen Carey. I’d been out with other women last semester but there were no repeat dates leading to a relationship or whatever it should be called. Maureen sat across from me in the class. We had spoken to each other over History matters before, not much else. I did think she was interesting and attractive in her own way so I finally asked her out after class several days before this anniversary. Obviously she agreed, hence there’d be no story. How well we hit it off was probably the bigger surprise to me. Not that I had a craving for rejection; one is always just taken aback with success after a string of failures at anything. It went on to be a rather standard relationship between a pair of 18-year olds with its melodrama and other standard behaviors; from the perspective of an older, hopefully wiser, adult.
I will always remember that Maureen originated from Hope, AR. It was unusual for Marquette since 80 percent of the student body hailed from either Wisconsin or the Chicago suburbs. The other recollection I will always have is her mentioning her hometown being the same hometown of her state’s current governor. Back in 1987, everybody’s attitude toward that was, “that’s nice dear, but no one really cares about the governor of a backwater state.” Besides, Hope, AR was more famous for being the world HQ of Klipsch Speakers then. Nobody would’ve predicted Bill Clinton winning the presidency in five years later.
What happened anyway? School ended and I spent the Summer with my parents in the suburbs of Philly. They despised her even though they barely knew her. It didn’t matter, I was blackmailed into dumping Maureen or not being allowed to attend Marquette in the Fall. Trust me, there was pressure from them to have me transfer to some lesser school in PA or San Diego (Dad accepted an offer in July to move). They had some insane idea about me dropping out of school and marrying her! The majority of my friends have always found such an accusation hilarious due to my long-standing aversion to marriage. When I did return to Marquette, she rightfully didn’t want to talk to me until Christmas Break. Sadly, there were never any more conversations. I lost contact with her and all I ever heard were rumors of her dropping out of school in 1988 and some other implausible or unverifiable stories, namely Maureen becoming a lesbian.
Overall my days with Maureen were positive and part of the education I received at Marquette. Without my parents’ meddling, I have no idea how much longer the relationship would’ve lasted. I’m confident it would’ve ended long before marriage came into the picture if matters were allowed to take their course—the fate of my other girlfriends except Somara. From then on, I never discussed the women in my life with my parents again but Maureen isn’t synonymous with secrecy. She will always be associated with the potential and excitement my Freshman year embodied.