This morning I was thinking about the Sideways Bobsled Team. it's a long explanation, settle in.

On my way out to the post office, i saw a door lying by a fence with a "free" sign on it. "Free door led to "freebird", led to "I've never heard that song, no really" ...led to...well I don't hang out in bars...except in grad school...and even then...mostly to hear John....like we did every Friday night, that big crowd of us...wonder whatever happened to them...my fellow students who kept me sane...and then there it was, the Sideways Bobsled Team. (i probably mentioned them before here.

i attended SUNY Albany in the 197s and received a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice. Most of my class managed it in one year; i had hassles with an advisor and all that jazz but finally got the damn thing in 1976, with a thesis that focused on prisoners' rights. By the time, I actually received confirmation that I'd made it, i'd moved to California, and had no ties, no contacts with anyone or anything about the school. In recent years, I've tried to connect but there's nothing to connect to. I've lost touch and alas, most names of my class - and i don't even know which class I am in since technically i did not graduate with the folks I started out with. I would not have attended the ceremony at ay rate, but I am sorry to have lost all connection with that crowd.

In the mid-70s, when we were going to change the world usually from within, we went to law school. I couldn't imagine succeeding at that, and wasn't interested in most of what law school taught. I wanted to study criminal justice and ended up (yet another long tale) attending what was the premier and almost only school for the subject in the US. In Albany New York. Oh yippee. Four years of New London weather and there I was in Albany.

While SUNY is huge, were were small. At the time, the School of Criminal justice (SCJ) was housed in one of the dorm towers on the new, hideous campus. The curriculum required us to attend large lecture style lasses and then choose smaller elective subjects*. And a thesis. In the first week, we were gathered ina room, and we went around introducing ourselves, where from, what major in college, blah blah. I was living in a grad school dorm, but most of the women on my floor were in different schools, Social Work being one i remember well. the dorm was downtown, in an older part of SUNY.

The larger classes were held in a lecture hall - far too big for my first-year bunch but that's what we had. And as students will, we scattered. There were the 1st row guys, the ones up there, hither and thither. then there was my row. for some reason - we'd bonded? - we filled one row of seats in the lecture ahll. Why? No idea. Had we all connected early? I don't remmeber. It wasn't that we were all dorm-mates. i have no idea where most of these folks lived -porbalby not int he dorky dorm. (I wanted to live in an apartment but my mother convinced me that 3 months after having major back surgery, i should let soemone else feed me and take care of me to some extent. Smart.)

I don't know how the SBT formed, i just know that I sat down next to my friend Jane Maxwell and she sat down next to soemoen else and we filled the row. the only other name I recall was that of John Simpson - the only guy int eh row. (in a small school this was notable. In a school that was relatively new, in a feild that was relatively new, and not your traditional woman's subject) and we bonded. Clearly, we bonded because there were dozens of seats to choose from and we could all have scattered.

And there was that fateful day when Professor Newman (the only one of eight or so professors who expected, no, required, that we be that formal) climbed the steps two-thirds up the lecture hall to hand out ..what, an exam? give back some term papers? And we turned , leaning in our chairs to the center of the room, as he stood in the center aisle. And Professor Newman said "hmmm, looks like a sideways bobsled team."

That semester, that year, we kept each other sane. We kept each other going. We wanted everyone to pull it off. The Crim School was the most challenging academic experience I ever had. I read so much i developed eyestrain. i worked fora professor who made me think more analytically and more carefully than I ever had before. I had never been in a study group and didn't have a lot of support in the dorm. I'd never been in a situation that created so much tension that we actually had to come up with ways to relax. I had to consciously cut down on the amount of coffee I was drinking because I could not stop vibrating long enough to sleep.

Relaxing in Albany in the mid-70s was um, not easy. It mostly involved beer. and bars. buying a pitcher and hanging out. Hanging out in a dorm living room or someone's cheap-ass apartment. And beer. I don't know how but we found giggles and warmth, support and determination.

Without the women in the Sideways Bobsled Team I would have flunked at least one course, and maybe thus, not graduated. But we had a group project and several of the women in the program decided to structure a study of prostitution (this being the 70s and oh yeah social issues and feminist issues mattered).We had to design a study, not actually put it into practice and they just carried me. Jane tutored me to so would not funk statistics. I don't know that I'd ever been supported in that way. We just were not going to fail. No one was going to leave, or flunk. No way.

During that year, I got involved with two different men, one of whom kept me sane too, one day sending me up the hills beyond the city to drive and drive as high as I could until I could park, look down and see how teeensy the campus was. I took a picture. i still have it. Perspective. I still remember. Thanks, Dick.

I went to bars to hear John sing James Taylor and and Eagles songs (John "You just call out my name" Audience "John Simpson"). Jane's daughter came to class in her mother's place and we shared elephant jokes. I drank bad beer and bad wine. I had endless conversations about sentencing over deli food that we found way out of town. I learned to edit. I sat in a row of students who somehow had fun as they worked their asses off (John channeled Ernesto Miranda for his mid-term. Miranda got a B+ as i recall.) As hard as it was, it was that silly and giddy at times.

I've felt that feeling since, to some extent. Some of my political activities were truly part of a supportive group. Some conventions I've worked on were made of determined people who would not let me fail. But the SBT was the first time I ever felt like I was being held and would not fall. While the local law school library books showed where articles had been razored out, so no one else could read them, I was sitting at Jane's kitchen table drinking tea and learning about lambda.

Bonding. Gosh.

*While i don't have a clue why, looking at the school's website, i found myself aching to return to take every one of those classes anew. I still apparently have the interest and might even have the passion. Man. I'm jealous of the incoming class.