1979: Dear Cynthia Small and …Just be yourself

Dear Cynthia,

You and few of your equally spirited friends whose names I regret I cannot remember were evergreen attendees of events at my parent’s home.  Whether a caucus for an up-coming election, fund raiser for a candidate or cause or spirited evening of conversation.  I know you were a treasured spark and fuel for my Mom’s (and Dad’s) burgeoning feminism and activism in our town.

During these evenings I was bored.  Trapped In a world of grown-ups, vaguely aware that important community work was going on, but mostly hoping I would at last be granted permission to curl up in a bed upstairs for the Friday evening Brady Bunch, Partridge family, Love Boat line up.  

You and your sidekicks were the one saving grace.  You often squired me to the back yard to try some crazy gymnastic trick you called a “fish flop” which was somewhat a kin to what the world would later call “the worm”.  Regardless of how fancy or even white your dress or killer 70’s Farrah Faucet pants suit was, you would set your class of wine in the grass and go for it.  

At the time these antics were just a welcome giggle.  Over time, they took on a larger importance.  You and your peers were a rock star group of professional women who chose to just be yourselves.  No mold, just unabashedly exactly who you were meant to be.  

Thank you for being my first teacher of what it meant to be authentically me.

Ann Simonds

Aka Annie Hoagland

aka Annie Hoagland