🔆🔆🔆
We are standing in the backyard of my grandparents’ Rockport home. It’s the summer of 1987. I’d just graduated with a degree in history and not a single job prospect.
Liberal arts education: long on education, a little short on career counseling. Not a big deal, I’d spent my junior year studying ancient Scottish history at Aberdeen University, a sweet diversion from my upstate New York women’s college, and in my senior year I’d spent the month of January working an internship at the Wells Fargo Bank headquarters in downtown San Francisco. A liberal arts education had perks, but none of them paid very well.
Without a career looming on the near horizon, I was back in New England for another summer at the Seaward Inn. My sister had also joined the fun. We could clear $400+ dollars a week waiting tables, a necessity with student loans coming due 6 months after graduation.
By our attire in this photo, I’m on a day off, but Sarah is sporting the official Seaward Inn waitress uniform: white shirt, white skirt and ironed pinafore apron —so pretty.
🔆🔆🔆