Saturday, July 23, 2011
Cheryl Stromer Prall
Ten years ago, I mentioned to my supervisor at the college library where I worked that I wondered what ever happened to a childhood friend of mine I hadn't seen in thirty years. Having listened to my fond memories of her generosity, the librarian encouraged me to attempt to locate her. Fortuitously coming across her older brother's profile and e-mail address on an East coast university faculty page, we eventually reestablished contact, and began a distance dialogue culminating in a rendezvous years later at the Sausalito ferry landing.
Cheryl Stromer (now Prall) had come up from San Diego to Berkeley to attend her daughter's graduation from culinary school, and arranged for us to meet for lunch. Later, when her daughter was preparing to move to New York, Cheryl returned with her other daughter, and we all once again met for lunch and a stroll along the Sausalito waterfront. Both occasions were delightful, prompting me to recall some of the congenial attributes of Cheryl when growing up together, in particular her bohemian interests, such as frequenting the local coffee house poetry readings.
As these poetic pursuits preceded my coming of age after the Summer of Love and Woodstock, I recalled to Cheryl's daughter that it served as peer approval to opt out of the militaristic madness that consumed so many of our generation in Vietnam. As I remember telling her daughter, I felt that becoming a hippie was OK.
Life, of course, is too short, and sometimes too hard or unfair, but remarkable people like Cheryl -- always ready with an encouraging word and fine sense of humor -- make our travails a little more bearable. And for that I will be forever grateful to good friends like her.
In view of all the suffering in the world, it is nice to know that a poetic inclination and kind heart can still make life worth living. For friends like Cheryl, who passed on in June, that seems like a pretty good tribute.
Cheryl Stromer (now Prall) had come up from San Diego to Berkeley to attend her daughter's graduation from culinary school, and arranged for us to meet for lunch. Later, when her daughter was preparing to move to New York, Cheryl returned with her other daughter, and we all once again met for lunch and a stroll along the Sausalito waterfront. Both occasions were delightful, prompting me to recall some of the congenial attributes of Cheryl when growing up together, in particular her bohemian interests, such as frequenting the local coffee house poetry readings.
As these poetic pursuits preceded my coming of age after the Summer of Love and Woodstock, I recalled to Cheryl's daughter that it served as peer approval to opt out of the militaristic madness that consumed so many of our generation in Vietnam. As I remember telling her daughter, I felt that becoming a hippie was OK.
Life, of course, is too short, and sometimes too hard or unfair, but remarkable people like Cheryl -- always ready with an encouraging word and fine sense of humor -- make our travails a little more bearable. And for that I will be forever grateful to good friends like her.
In view of all the suffering in the world, it is nice to know that a poetic inclination and kind heart can still make life worth living. For friends like Cheryl, who passed on in June, that seems like a pretty good tribute.
