Terri was much more than a high school classmate and friend to me. We grew up 3 houses away from each other from the time we turned 3 years old, attended elementary school at Cubberly, junior high at Marshall and then on to Millikan. Many years of playing together with other neighborhood friends, BBQ's, picnics, birthday parties, etc. We even had our tonsils taken out at the same time and ate ice cream together in the hospital! We had different friends in high school and didn't spend a lot of time together, but I remember that we consoled each other when we failed to make the drill team both times we tried out, as we both had held that dream for years growing up.
We stayed in touch through the years as we raised our families in Orange County. She was an awesome mom to her son and daughter and struggled with some health issues through the years. But she forged through it all with a smile and wonderful attitude and sense of humor. She was a grandma of 2 beautiful boys that miss her mightily, as do her husband and kids.
In January 2018, we were trying to make a plan to get together for lunch, but she had some other committments she was trying to work around, as did I. We emailed a couple of times more and then in March I received an email from her daughter that she had passed away. I was stunned. Apparently she had some pain that wasn't diagnosed in a timely manner, and by the time she went to the hospital for treatment of pancreatitis, her body wasn't strong enough to fight it. I still struggle with the fact that I didn't get to say goodbye, but shared many beautiful memories with others that attended her memorial service. Just another example of how important it is to tell loved ones what they mean to you whenever possible.
Faded photos, overexposed on 1970s cheap film and the developing of the day.
Terri. Blonde, naturally. Tall. Norwegian. I peered over the concrete block fence and watched them move in around the block the summer after sixth grade. Surfers, I surmised. We walked to Marshall, were confirmed at church, taught Sunday school to five year olds, talked on the phone. 421-6041, on the slow dial. We worked at the LB Auditorium selling hot dogs, were hostesses at La Fiesta, and bent plastic tubes at a plant in OC. My dad called us Terri-Yaki and Suki-Yaki. We laughed at his silly name.
Terri was ambitious and saved her money. She bought a bright blue WV bug with a sunroof. I still can picture the way she quickly hand-cranked it open as we zipped down PCH, tuned the radio to Neil Young and laughed as her flaxen hair blew back. We slept under open skies in sleeping bags in the warm desert, on the cool, damp northern beaches and the soft, meadow grasses of the Sierras. We saw the footprints of cougars and Bigfoot. Scared! Run!
She was at my bedside as I recovered from spinal surgery and told me in animated detail about the current films of Woodstock and The Sting. Seeing those movies through her eyes...delightful. Bouquet of baby’s breath. Supportive, making me laugh. After I relearned how to walk, we would tackle the length of Belmont Shore, walking to the jetty in the sand. Back at her apartment at 69 Granada, we drank wine from a boda bag. She had the best address ever.
At LBCC we took marine biology, found a sea slug at Newport during the neap tide, a field trip to Catalina. Took pottery class, spinning wheel, got to go round. Volleyball. The summer of the boys from Dartmouth! Nothing we did was unusual for two girls during that time. It was our youth.
I moved to Minnesota in the spring of ‘72, and she followed me in August driving her blue bug cross country filled to the sunroof with all of her worldly goods, including her SInger sewing machine. We unpacked, and arranged our new apartment. We met tall, blonde, Minnesota men and boated on the beautiful sky blue waters of Minnetonka. Huzzahed at the Rennaissance Faire on a warm September day. Rode horses on the trail. I was behind her and watched her fall, and hit the ground hard. The horse galloped back to the barn, it’s saddle on its side, the stirrups hitting its back as it disappeared in the dust. Hospital. Broken bones. I visited her, and tried to heal her broken heart and body. Her parents were no help She wanted to stay, but needed to leave. Finally an old friend drove out and hooked the blue bug up to his rear bumper. We loaded her things and put her sewing machine in the back seat, and I said goodbye to Ric and Terri. She vowed to return.
2,000 miles, people move, change addresses, change phone numbers, again and again. Names change with marriage. I knew she had married. I knew she was a mom of a boy and a girl, but we eventually lost each other. No Facebook to help reconnect. Internet searches. No clues. Through this reunion website, I learned from Michelle Hinckley last year that Terri had passed. Heartbroken.
Faded photos, yes. Faded memories, never. Love you forever, Terri-Yaki.
I remember Teresa from Cubberley and Marshall. Weren't we in the ssme Brownie troop, Michelle? Always thought her last name fit because she had sandy blonde hair. I'll miss seeing you at the reunion, Teresa.
Michele Hinckley (Montgomery)
Terri was much more than a high school classmate and friend to me. We grew up 3 houses away from each other from the time we turned 3 years old, attended elementary school at Cubberly, junior high at Marshall and then on to Millikan. Many years of playing together with other neighborhood friends, BBQ's, picnics, birthday parties, etc. We even had our tonsils taken out at the same time and ate ice cream together in the hospital! We had different friends in high school and didn't spend a lot of time together, but I remember that we consoled each other when we failed to make the drill team both times we tried out, as we both had held that dream for years growing up.
We stayed in touch through the years as we raised our families in Orange County. She was an awesome mom to her son and daughter and struggled with some health issues through the years. But she forged through it all with a smile and wonderful attitude and sense of humor. She was a grandma of 2 beautiful boys that miss her mightily, as do her husband and kids.
In January 2018, we were trying to make a plan to get together for lunch, but she had some other committments she was trying to work around, as did I. We emailed a couple of times more and then in March I received an email from her daughter that she had passed away. I was stunned. Apparently she had some pain that wasn't diagnosed in a timely manner, and by the time she went to the hospital for treatment of pancreatitis, her body wasn't strong enough to fight it. I still struggle with the fact that I didn't get to say goodbye, but shared many beautiful memories with others that attended her memorial service. Just another example of how important it is to tell loved ones what they mean to you whenever possible.
Suzanne Swanson (Pohle)
Suzanne Swanson (Pohle)
Faded photos, overexposed on 1970s cheap film and the developing of the day.
Terri. Blonde, naturally. Tall. Norwegian. I peered over the concrete block fence and watched them move in around the block the summer after sixth grade. Surfers, I surmised. We walked to Marshall, were confirmed at church, taught Sunday school to five year olds, talked on the phone. 421-6041, on the slow dial. We worked at the LB Auditorium selling hot dogs, were hostesses at La Fiesta, and bent plastic tubes at a plant in OC. My dad called us Terri-Yaki and Suki-Yaki. We laughed at his silly name.
Terri was ambitious and saved her money. She bought a bright blue WV bug with a sunroof. I still can picture the way she quickly hand-cranked it open as we zipped down PCH, tuned the radio to Neil Young and laughed as her flaxen hair blew back. We slept under open skies in sleeping bags in the warm desert, on the cool, damp northern beaches and the soft, meadow grasses of the Sierras. We saw the footprints of cougars and Bigfoot. Scared! Run!
She was at my bedside as I recovered from spinal surgery and told me in animated detail about the current films of Woodstock and The Sting. Seeing those movies through her eyes...delightful. Bouquet of baby’s breath. Supportive, making me laugh. After I relearned how to walk, we would tackle the length of Belmont Shore, walking to the jetty in the sand. Back at her apartment at 69 Granada, we drank wine from a boda bag. She had the best address ever.
At LBCC we took marine biology, found a sea slug at Newport during the neap tide, a field trip to Catalina. Took pottery class, spinning wheel, got to go round. Volleyball. The summer of the boys from Dartmouth! Nothing we did was unusual for two girls during that time. It was our youth.
I moved to Minnesota in the spring of ‘72, and she followed me in August driving her blue bug cross country filled to the sunroof with all of her worldly goods, including her SInger sewing machine. We unpacked, and arranged our new apartment. We met tall, blonde, Minnesota men and boated on the beautiful sky blue waters of Minnetonka. Huzzahed at the Rennaissance Faire on a warm September day. Rode horses on the trail. I was behind her and watched her fall, and hit the ground hard. The horse galloped back to the barn, it’s saddle on its side, the stirrups hitting its back as it disappeared in the dust. Hospital. Broken bones. I visited her, and tried to heal her broken heart and body. Her parents were no help She wanted to stay, but needed to leave. Finally an old friend drove out and hooked the blue bug up to his rear bumper. We loaded her things and put her sewing machine in the back seat, and I said goodbye to Ric and Terri. She vowed to return.
2,000 miles, people move, change addresses, change phone numbers, again and again. Names change with marriage. I knew she had married. I knew she was a mom of a boy and a girl, but we eventually lost each other. No Facebook to help reconnect. Internet searches. No clues. Through this reunion website, I learned from Michelle Hinckley last year that Terri had passed. Heartbroken.
Faded photos, yes. Faded memories, never. Love you forever, Terri-Yaki.
Kristie Fawcett
I remember Teresa from Cubberley and Marshall. Weren't we in the ssme Brownie troop, Michelle? Always thought her last name fit because she had sandy blonde hair. I'll miss seeing you at the reunion, Teresa.