Member-only story
The Quiet Girl
I’ve always been the quiet type. My Great Aunt Ollie, who was superintendent of schools in Cincinnati, Ohio, would always remark how much she loved that I would sit in the back seat of the car and read.
I grew up in a very chaotic household. With a younger sister and three younger brothers, the house was noisy. Dinner time especially was loud, with everyone talking over each other. I never tried to compete because I didn’t have a loud voice to begin with.
Growing up, time to be alone and quiet was at a premium. When we lived in Grand Rapids, the entry to the attic was in the closet. There was a wooden panel you could stand on to climb up into the attic. I made it my quiet place.
I put blankets in there, my favorite dolls, and piles of books. I had a flashlight so I could read. It was quiet in there, and I was left alone, mostly.
Fast forward to today, and I’m still the quiet one. When there are get-togethers, you’ll usually find me in the kitchen, helping out, whether they wanted my help or not.
I got used to functioning in big crowds when I was at the radio and TV station because we did live shots at every major festival or convention in town. So big crowds don’t bother me that much, but I need an hour beforehand to prepare and at least an hour afterward to settle.
