Sunday, September 6, 2020
Fontaine— I knew who Fontaine was from the start. It was a small enough seventh grade group that we all knew each other. Plus, she was in most of my classes even when most of my Missionary Ridge buddies were not. My first vivid memory comes from the eighth or ninth grade when we were sitting in the hallway after lunch. Somehow it emerged that we had admired one another for very different reasons. I noted how effortlessly athletic she was — never my strong suit. She thought I was really smart —though she was smart as well. What really cemented the friendship was how we both admired people who were athletic and smart. Mutual humility is a great foundation for a friendship.
That bond didn’t stop me from being slightly jealous of her for two reasons. First, she had older sisters. As an only child, I had often longed for an older sister to explain things to me. She had three of them. Secondly,, she knew all the cool boys and they knew her. When she very unselfconsciously dropped their names in conversation, I felt like an outsider. Such feelings were only temporary because she was always witty and kind and fun to be with.
I did spend the night at her house several times. While I was impressed by the elevator, I was more struck by how difficult the situation was for both her parents. I understood why she got a driver’s license years before the rest of us, even if she had to drive only directly to school and back.
She headed the black team to victory so often that it came as a shock our senior year when Johanne got to accept the school trophy for the blue team. Along the way, Fontaine had participated in many varsity sports. All I ever managed to do was break a finger trying to serve a volleyball. Yet we were still friends.
We went our separate ways in college, and I did not see her again until we began our own class reunions. I was sorry to hear of her personaI tragedies, which she soldiered through as she always had. It was always a joy to hear that self-deprecating laugh and to see the twinkle in her eyes as we reminisced about Miss Baylis’ or Mrs. Poston’s classes. In a Latin class right after lunch. I had struggled to stay awake but she excelled.
Last year I was delighted to know that she had become engaged to Henry Aldrich. He and I had run into one another a few decades before at the University of Michigan. What a perfect match for these two special people. I regret that they did not have more time together.
I am very thankful for Johanne and Linda and others who were there for her when I could not be. She was a patron of the arts and an active participant in her community. Most of all, I remember has a friend who persisted through adversity and shared her spirit and her gifts with us all.
Mary Heald Thornberry, GPS class of 1961
