Real Loser In This Story Was The Military

Carolyn Allen was the nicest girl in school. She was a senior. I was a sophomore. That was 1957.

She was Miss Lufkin High School, student council president, All-State Band and National Honor Society member, and active in drama and the Girl Scouts. Boy, she was popular.

Carolyn knew everybody in school. I say that because she knew me. I can still remember the first day she spoke to me in the hall. I even remember what she was wearing, her uniform as a member of the Civil Air Patrol girls auxiliary.

I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. I guess I haven’t.

Carolyn’s family was wealthy. Their plan had been for her to attend a fancy girls school back East after the ninth grade. She had refused. Instead, she would stay here in her little hometown and finish high school with her friends. Boy, she was something.

Carolyn went on to graduate from the University of Texas, where she was a Kappa Kappa Gamma, a Bluebonnet Belle and, as a Woodrow Wilson Fellow, also studied in Italy. Later, she would earn her master’s degree at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University. Boy, she was smart.

I interviewed her in the early 1960s. I was a kid reporter on the local newspaper. She was back from Europe, where she had visited Berlin. She was enamored with President John F. Kennedy’s New Frontier. I can’t remember now one word of what I wrote about her. I can still remember exactly how she looked. Boy, she was pretty.

I didn’t see Carolyn again for 30 years. She was married and living in Santa Barbara, and I was traveling California on assignment. I phoned her and she invited me to her home.

When I arrived, she threw wide her arms and ran to greet me. Boy, she had a great smile.

Carolyn, as always, was up to her elbow grease in volunteer work, from Junior League, her sorority and Episcopal church to the museum, country club and yacht club.

Her most important project at that time was helping the homeless. Santa Barbara had some of the country’s most restrictive laws against transients. You couldn’t even park a car on the street overnight.

Carolyn had helped set up a program for homeless families with small children. She took me on a tour of the facilities. It was wonderful, the work they were doing. Boy, I was proud of her.

We had a great time talking and laughing about old times. I told her that I could still picture her in her Civil Air Patrol girls auxiliary uniform.

That’s when she told me something I never would have guessed about Carolyn: She had been bitter.

She said she had been bitter about the Civil Air Patrol girls auxiliary. Growing up, she always wanted to be a military pilot, but she couldn’t because she was a girl. I didn’t know what to say.

Carolyn came back to Lufkin earlier this summer for her 40th high school reunion. She sent word through a friend that she wished she had time for us to get together, but maybe next time.

There won’t be a next time. Carolyn Allen Alevra died this month, just one day short of her 58th birthday. I knew she’d had health problems. I didn’t know how bad.

There was something I wish I had told Carolyn. Now that it’s too late, I’ll tell you instead.

Boy, she would have been a great pilot.

xxxx