Geneva Anne Barrett

GARFIELD HIGH SCHOOL

There was a woman I worked with at Garfield High School, a fellow English teacher by the name of Anne Barrett.  Her full name was Geneva Anne Barrett and she was one of the best-read teachers at Garfield.  

Born in 1943, Anne was raised in Madison, North Carolina.  She passed in 2017 and her funeral services were held in North Carolina.  What a nice thing for her family to do and what a nice way to honor her family.  Though she had a terrific and infectious spirit, I always had a feeling that she was homesick for North Carolina.  That's just my intuition, nothing that she shared directly with me.  We both shared a love for Tolstoy's War and Peace and had discussions about it, brief, but the fact that anyone on a high school campus could talk about it was itself remarkable.  She was absolutely full of energy and delightful.  I loved listening to her in the cafeteria talk proudly and affectionately about her daughter, Rebecca, whom she addressed with such love as Reebok, implying the Reebok Classic, a well-respected athletic gear back in the 90s.  Will never forget how Anne shared with me how she and Carol Stoner were good-naturedly contentious. Anne who was vibrant, articulate, high energy, maybe even controversial with her opinions probably garnered some jealous attentions.  The last I'd heard of Anne was when she was living in Huntington Beach, CA.  I recall stories she'd share with me of life in North Carolina.  

LA JOLLA

The last time that I saw her in person was when I drove down to La Jolla to meet her for lunch.  The woman had class.  

She picked a restaurant on the cliffs overlooking La Jolla Cove, called Brockton Villa Restaurant.  I'd never heard of it, but apparently, it has been there a long, long time.  We had sandwiches and iced tea.  It was very, very good. 

YE OLD KINGS HEAD

Before that, during the days of Garfield, I had dinner with Anne out in Santa Monica at a restaurant called Kingshead or Ye Old Kingshead, a famous British fish and chips restaurant that John Simpson first introduced me to. 

It's located at 116 Santa Monica Blvd, one block from Ocean Blvd.  We both had fish and chips and a beer.  It was divine.  And Anne was her vibrant self.  [I didn't realize that it was still open for business.]  In fact, John had his wedding dinner there and Gregory Peck's brother, Jennifer's dad, was there, and her dad had a lot of similar characteristics--chiseled face, good-looking man.  

Will never forget her relaying to me her teaching experience with her daughter in South Korea.  Anne said that it was horrible because the owners of the school were too demanding and cheated her and Rebecca out of pay.  Or promised them one thing, and delivered on something else. 

BALBOA PARK

No only did she take me out to lunch on her dime, what a generous soul, but that she also invited me to walk around the grounds at Balboa Park. 

It was the perfect outing to walk and talk.  I remember how we shared a liking for Randall Jarrell's anti-war poetry.  It was unexpected.  And I don't think I've had such a day talking literature with anyone with her breadth of knowledge.  We certainly didn't plan to talk literature, but I think that not many people share an appreciation for some of the cannon that we could share our preferences in a friendly walk.  It was nice.  Rare, that's for sure.  

Anne was one for the letters, not just belles lettres, though that too, but letter writing.  She enjoyed sharing her thoughts on paper with friends and, I am sure, with family.  For this, as much as every other reason, she was a real treasure.  I have many of her letters and cards in storage, which I will have to excavate to prove my point, but for now, accept this good reader the offering of a Christmas card that I received from her. 

The card's inscription reads, "May all the joys of the season be yours" to which she added in her own pen, "and Please let me hear from you!  Love -- Anne.  And then on the opposite side of the card, she put her name "Anne -- and her phone number."  Even her letters had an energetic joie de vivre.  I've missed you, Anne, before your passing.  It's just that I was doing different things and moved a couple of times.  Do miss you, Dear Anne.