Showing posts with label Keystone Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Keystone Memories. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Remembering the Light in the Life of Doris Helene White Soares (1957 - 2024)

Attorney Doris Helene White Soares found that her homegoing would be during the Thanksgiving holiday period of 2024. At the age of 67, she was 33 years short of her ultimate goal of living to age 100, a goal she often reminded people was hers. It wasn’t because her mother, Lois Cooper White, had lived 99 years, just four months shy of her 100th that Doris had that as her goal.

She was simply one to note benchmarks of time in even numbers and she liked the concept of what life would look like in the year 2057.

In her lifetime, Doris managed to do what all southern women and mothers of other strong southern women want for their daughters—to shoot for the moon and reach it. Doris was brought up with a love for books, good writing, impeccable spelling, decorum, Southern manners, faith in God, church worship, respect for elders, an appreciation for one’s family roots, a study of her heritage, and one gently charming stubborn streak that powered her to get past barriers, subtle and substantial alike.

We met in 1970, as she was one of 11 students who would cause Keystone School’s 9th grade class to actually have to span six pages of the yearbook that year, as the usually small class sizes experienced a giant growth streak.

In the 1970-71 year alone, Keystone students who were destined for the “best” colleges around the country faced challenges of their own as the waning days of the summer of love, flower power, and the general transition from AM radio to the more unchartered waters of FM broadcasts marked a time in music where you’d find Dean Martin, Motown, The Beatles (at the height of their scraggly look, transcendental meditation and mountaintop contemplations abounding), The Buckinghams, Neil Young, and a few Canadian upstarts including Joni Mitchell were about to hit radio gold.

Doris entered Keystone with a bang. Our multicultural enrollment was real, but small, but then, again, the Class of ’73 had 10 people, the Class of ’75 had 11 people, and here we were, the Class of ’74 with 32 people. Diversity wasn’t just for statistics; it was for real, and it didn’t need to be “practiced.” It was who we all were, a happy little microcosm of people who were meant to be family for the rest of our lives. Naturally there were disagreements at times, but they were healthy, educational, and often funny or peppered enough with humor to make them a learning experience.

Keystone was not a nerd academy; it was a social experiment of understanding, goal-setting, intense study, relentless pursuit of knowledge simply because you were interested in it, and then, a safe place to be smart without ridicule. Most of all, we tried to be kind to one another, despite our similarities and differences. That was basically all you could ask for in the fall and spring of the early 1970s. Politics was as interesting then as it is today, and we all held strong opinions, which were safe to express without fear of retribution or persecution from our superiors, unlike today’s more volatile environment.

In school, Doris was not a fan of science; she preferred history, English, writing, and she tolerated with grace those who were attempting athletic prowess on the basketball court, because she was an avid cheerleader who knew how to get a crowd going. She fit in easily, but it’s more likely that she managed to project a level of ease where there was none.

Her younger cousin, Trena, had been at Keystone from early elementary days, but Doris also had an older sister, Lois Diane, who graduated from San Antonio Edison High School the same year Doris graduated from Keystone. They were devoted to one another; in 2003, Lois Diane was visiting Doris in Massachusetts when she passed away from cardiac complications in her sleep at the age of 47.

Keystone’s junior and senior proms were important benchmarks and Doris kept good photographs and scrapbooks of those rites of passage as well as our high school graduation ceremony, and shared those in our school alumni postings on Facebook.

Doris' high school senior picture, May 1974, Keystone School, San Antonio, Texas

More than a supporter of HBCUs, Doris’ mother Lois was an alum of Paul Quinn College in Waco, Lois Diane had enrolled at Tuskegee Institute in Alabama right out of high school, son Stephen Cooper was active (in basketball and academics) at Hampton University in Virginia, and daughter Leigh Alexandra did her doctoral research on HBCUs as her research topic. Doris’ father, Leevester, was a mortician, an avid sports fan and music lover, whose primary career was in civil service working for the U.S. Post Office. She described him as “The best man in the whole USA.”

Fittingly, the man she married, jazz bandleader and extraordinary musician, Steven Soares, was the very next best man in her life and they were indeed a perfect match for one another. Grandson Miles Henry rounded out her family and lit up all of their collective lives.

For college, Doris chose Central State University, an HBCU school in Wilberforce, Ohio. She sailed through the academics and social parts of school with grace and ease and was an active soror in Delta Sigma Theta sorority (DST) all of her life, starting with Central State.

Ever a force for good, it surprised no one that Doris would be an attorney in her postcollegiate profession. She represented the Commonwealth of Massachusetts as an Assistant Attorney General in her professional career. Over the years, Keystone reunions would draw most of the 21 of us who graduated in 1974 back to the San Antonio campus built of old Victorian mansions for class-organized reunions in 1985, 1990, 1994, 2014, 2018, and 2024.

1994 Gathering of Keystone alumni, Emily Morgan Hotel, San Antonio, Texas

(Front L to R) Gloria Muro Shaw'74, M.S. (deceased), Dr. Luke Dones'75, Dr. Jack Kent '73, Prof. and Dean Elizabeth Boling '74, Elizabeth Lee Newman Easterlin '74 M.S. (deceased), Doris Helene White Soares, JD '74 (deceased); (Back L to R) Dr. Burton G. Shaw, Jr. '75 (deceased), Dr. Bernard B. Beard '75 (deceased), Dr. Richard P. Meinig '75, Ross A. (Buddy) Logan '74, Dr. Charles V. Mobbs '74.

Doris managed to get to most of these reunions, despite the distance from her home in Boston. Roots and tradition were important to her, plus her mother and sister still lived in San Antonio. Steven Cooper was barely 3 months old when I first met and got to hold him for the first time. Doris made being a wife and mother of two and practicing attorney look as easy as anything. Naturally, it was not.

Steven Cooper Soares and Leigh Alexandra Soares

Alumni reunion weekend, 2014, Keystone School

In recent years Doris relocated her family and returned to San Antonio as home base to provide oversight and gentle care of her beloved mother, Lois, who lived to age 99, and resided finally in the most exquisite of senior living communities under Doris' perfect supervision. She composed and delivered the most beautiful tribute to her mother when the time came, showing her strength above personal loss.

It seemed she had only five minutes between losing her mother and a diagnosis of her own cancer. Talk about unfair. She didn't ever turn her sorrow or pity inward. She was too much a fighter for that. In between battling chemotherapy she was a fierce force for the San Antonio chapter of DST Alumnae, and she continued mentoring other young women with hopes and dreams while setting an example for her own family on how to cope with life in faith.

In April this year, thanks to Doris’ insistence on the Class of ’74 doing "something" to mark the occasion of the 50th year since graduation, Karen Cheyney'76 made it happen. They toured the campus and were popular attendees in classes of present-day students who quizzed the seasoned alums about the “old days” of how things used to be.

Pictured from April is our beloved Doris, surrounded by our adored "Mrs. M" (Judy Moczygemba), Stephen Cheyney, Karen Cheyney, David Cheyney, Keystone Headmaster Dr. Billy Handmaker, Doris, Charles Mobbs, and Luke Dones.

Doris had been an honored guest in previous years as well on alumni day and inspired more than a few students to achieve dreams, set goals, and work like all get out, relentlessly to reach them, and then to be humble and modest. It's not every Keystonian who can say that they interviewed Alex Haley for the school newspaper when they were a senior in high school. Doris could, and did.

In a perfect world, no one battles cancer alone. Her Keystone family supported Doris with love, communications, and prayers as a strong constituent group that fell in line somewhere in 37th place behind other groups of those who love Doris. Her family was her core group, her faith in God and lifetime of worship gave her strength to develop her motto and mantra, “Armor on, prayers up, Let’s Go!”

Her DST sisters, her fellow barristers, her friends from childhood forward, her Jack and Jill alumni, and later parent alumni, on and on, everyone loved Doris.

Read and see Doris’ own words here:

Cervivor Podcast https://www.facebook.com/cervivor/videos/410050134759406

Knowledge + advocacy = survival. The real deal: Black patients have lower survival rates for most cancers, if not all....

In a communication where she was reviewing the list of people (so far at that time) who’d passed away among our group, here’s what she said 9 years ago:

Doris Soares: "Just reading this list (thanks for the link, Dawn Lee). How sad to recall all the changes in the past 41 years since I bid farewell to Keystone. Know that the names and faces of everyone who made up my world there for high school never fade---get blurry, maybe, but never disappear."

True enough, Doris…you are always a permanent part of our happiest memories.

So, today as we sit here we are reminded that if you were active in the faith that Doris had, she believed in God’s perfect timing and plan for all his children, in the hereafter where you are reunited with those who have gone ahead of you and even if you’re not of that mindset, you just know that somewhere in a garden of goodness, where there is love, there is Doris.

For all who believe and count on eternity, a new cheerleader has arrived on the scene, bustling with energy, filled with joy, and 1,212 good ideas. Put her to work, Lord, and when you can spare her a little, please help us by having her keep an eye out on all of us. We could use the backup.

Doris, it was a privilege to know you and call you my fellow Cobra and I thank you for all the shared memories of important times we had. And, for your homegoing soundtrack, let's revisit those happy times where we all had...Pieces of April to hold onto.

Love, Dawn Lee

Here are some of Doris’ writings about her navigation of her journey with cancer. She never fails to acknowledge her core team: husband Steven, daughter Leigh and son Steven Cooper, aka “The best cancer posse in the galaxy” and her “first line of defense.”

https://www.curetoday.com/authors/doris-helene-white

You’ll see photos of Doris on her journey and some of her reflections in her own handwriting.

https://cervivor.org/tag/doris-helene-white/ In her own words:

“This journal is so much more than frequently illegible cursive words. No, these pages are quite often a battle cry, this warrior’s call to arms against the most unexpected enemy: her own cells. These pages are like an old-timey, gutbucket, blues chart from backwoods juke joint—a full-throated, belly-wail of agony and joy, growled by one who knows the score (literally and figuratively) and ain’t afraid to tell you all about it. And, always, always, that hard-cover book is my hymnal, sketching lines of praise to Him in Whose armor I outfit myself every day. This little unassuming book contains uniquely metered lyrics of love and faith and strength.

I will write my way out of this Egypt. The inked lines will chart the path to my Red Sea….”

As a final reminder, she took her civic duty seriously ALL of her life. She voted early in the 2024 election, just to make sure. This photo, while not looking anything like the Doris we know, love, and remember, is one I cherish just as much as any of the others. She did it her way!

With ever an eye on the future...Doris will be watching over, and listening carefully to the arpeggios and allegros of young Miles Henry...the future looks bright!

Sunday, April 10, 2022

Blest Be the Ties That Bind—The Gravitational Pull of Keystone School

For more than four decades, I’ve been one—of many—who enjoy keeping up with my classmates from Keystone School in San Antonio. Not just my high school classmates, but the activities and whereabouts from many students from classes spanning 1963–1985 have remained important to me all my life. I’m not the only one who feels this way.

High school reunions are nothing new, but for a small private school in San Antonio to have intense loyalty among several generations of students such that it borders on a feverish determination to remain connected is unique. For hours now, on the drive up and back today, I’ve thought about how it came to be that one school could mean so much to so many. It truly reminded me of the gravitational pull of Keystone, drawing so many of us near to it, bringing us back to home base over the course of our lives at different times. [Photo of Main Hall, Keystone School]

In the 1960s, gatherings were typically official holiday functions at the school. There were never blatant overtones of requests for financial support. In fact, it was the exact opposite message communicated by the leadership. They did lobby heavily for some graduates to return to the school to teach when academic studies were completed; they were purposeful and straightforward about that mission. Several graduates did just that, and the school added a broad general dimension to its growth, contributing to its primarily unspoken legacy then.

Later, reunions expanded offsite to favorite restaurants or classmates’ homes, but no matter where or how, for years we took time to meet. Individual class sizes averaged 20 students, but it was not unusual for only 10 or 11 to comprise the complete graduating class. For the next two decades, interest in reunions became more class-oriented for private gatherings. One local alum might include some 70s friends in the 60s-era gatherings but those were limited occasions.

There was no single precipitating cause for trying to reconstruct a schoolwide gathering, but time and opportunity intersected at the 10-year point past my high school graduation. It wasn’t easy to get the first reunion started, but we began in 1984. A dear friend and mentor, Tommye Brennan Howard ’63 (real name Patricia, but don’t ever call her that) and I renewed our friendship that had begun in 1962. She was my first call, and after a brief chat, we were off and running.[Photo of Tommye Brennan Howard]

In 1985 we had our first schoolwide grand reunion (since the 1960s school holiday coffee events in Keystone’s cafeteria). Ours became a two-day gathering at a local hotel ballroom, with dinner, dancing, and DJ, followed by a BBQ at the school campus the next day. The two of us spent our spare time over six months to find alums, recruit them for the weekend, and plan the event. We burned up AT&T Friends and Family calling plan with memories and reminiscences.

The school-based gathering welcomed our alumni parents and/or immediate children for a chance to visit. Some parents attended even if their children could not, having relocated out of town, because there was a great relationship throughout many classes that way. We were all as happy to see others’ parents as we would be their children.

As a five-year-old, fresh into first grade, I believe half my Keystone friends were ages 17 and older. I had a few of my own classmates of interest, but I was constantly pestering the second graders to tell me “what came after” addition and subtraction. Patiently they’d tell me about multiplication, assure me that Mrs. Kumin was wonderful and I'd love her class. I was having the time of my life with Mrs. Lucy Hines in first grade. I just wanted second grade to be as good and thus began my early days as a sleuth of sorts. Thanks to Carla Carter'73 and Marilyn Harper'73, they relieved my anxiety that I would not be disappointed in what came next. [Photos: Clockwise Mrs. Hines, Mrs. Kumin, Carla Carter, and Marilyn Harper.]

People my own age were nice but really not as interesting as the upper classmen. The high school seniors adopted me as their mascot aka "chief errand runner." When they were clear on one side of the school’s sprawling campus landscape near South Hall, in San Antonio’s Monte Vista Historic District, they wanted to get messages to their classmates who were exiting “North Hall” (the fancy term for the three story, plus basement, old adobe apartments) that featured ingress and egress via iron and concrete stairs that resembled more fire escapes than classroom pathways.

Willingly, I’d scamper “all the way over” to the other side of campus to deliver a message ala Wakefield Western Union to the classmate about the next meet-up time and location of the other seniors.

[Top: South Hall; Bottom: North Hall.]

As a first-grader as yet undiscovered food allergies kept me indoors from recess for several weeks…which found me in the school cafeteria at the same time when the Latin Club high schoolers practiced their Christmas carols for an upcoming holiday event, in Latin, of course. I loved how they sounded and paid close attention. Learning by immersion, I suppose.

In my sequestration from additional germs and temperature irritants, I picked up “Adeste Fideles” and several others and started singing them in Latin in church without the hymnal. My mother managed to keep her surprise to a minimum, just smiling and not making a big deal of it. Well, the Latin verses came right to mind so why not sing ‘em? Thank you Mrs. Sallie B. Johnson.

Conversations with various members of the class of 1963 were my favorite part of Keystone that first year. They were wise, they were kind, they smiled, and they were very, very tall. Most of all, they gave great hugs. I hugged back.

When you’re new in the world of school, and your parents had just divorced, and you were told that you couldn’t attend public school because you weren’t old enough yet to enroll…Keystone rescued me from an additional year of nice but boring kindergarten.

It became my home away from home, and for the rest of my life, I would find safety and security in any halls of learning, whether modest or grand. A feeling of calm would wash over me at the site of old (very old) wooden desks, deep rich paneling and exquisite crown molding that were built into the old mansions reconverted into our classrooms with minimal changes.

The old-timey radiators were the place to be near in the winter. My adventures would soon begin in the books in the lower school library, carry forward in my imagination, and ultimately emerge through my writing as I grew up. From countless biographies to "The Happy Hollisters," to "A Wrinkle in Time," my spare time hours were booked!

So, to stage that first reunion, it was only natural that Tommye would reach out to “her group” and I’d reach out to “my group.” The result was at least 300 students including spouses made it to one or the other reunion event. That was 1985.

Around 1994, Lizzie Newman Easterlin, my ’74 classmate, decided it was time for another reunion; this one featured mostly the 70s folks. Virtually singlehandedly, she organized another splendid weekend event and people came into SA from all over, another success. She put the call out, and whoosh, “If you build it, they will come” resulted.

Lizzie's husband at the time was new to us but he showed great enthusiasm and no signs of boredom or disinterest at (finally) meeting all the people he'd heard about for a few years. After meeting a certain group of "sciencers" as Coach Eargle called them, he walked away shaking his head, confiding to one fellow he knew well: "Don't any of you guys have regular jobs like mine? I heard 'If I tell you what I do, I'll have to kill you,' so many times." Of course they were joking...well most of them were...a few were...one was. Let's just say their jobs required high security clearances and leave it at that.

A few years later, the reunions sort of stopped because no one was around to stage them and do the work to gather everyone. People were getting busier in their careers, families, and after some additional geographic relocations, it was harder to get a group together. Keystone officials over the years (after Coach Eargle passed away) sponsored this or that holiday gathering but no more did most of the graduates’ call San Antonio home anymore—we’d scattered to the four winds.

In the 1990s, a Yahoo.com online group was formed, primarily of 70s/80s alumni, key 60s folks, and students who attended Keystone, even for a year or more, joined the list. It was at least a collective outreach to bring people together. Occasionally someone would start a discussion thread and others would chime in, maintaining light contact.

Other classmates found personal visits with some of their friends to be centralized to mini-reunions when they came into San Antonio. Some would come in for sporting events, e.g., a Spurs home game. A photo or two might be posted. Lives were busy and no matter what everyone was doing, we all expected to live forever. Howard Morrow organized a band, The Bad Assets, and we chose Bill Fischer's Shenanigan's Club as the site, and a musical reunion of classmates brought many of the 70s folks back together...as in "Let's get the band back together" kind of reunion. Threat of a tornado kept some folks away but others appropriately ignored it and gathered. The Bad Assets would have another appearance at fellow group member Jay Hill's place. Jay, a classmate of Howard's who played a mean bass was kind enough to host one gathering where live music returned. Lizzie Newman and Gloria Muro Shaw (and Burton) attended, and Lisa Ransopher '75 sang with the band. The event had more talking than singing though...

Then, in 2011, a major event happened…our beloved English teacher, Jim Klaeveman, aka Ivie James Klaeveman, died. His obituary appeared in the Express-News and Lynda Tussay '73 shared it by creating a Facebook community page for Keystone alumni. We couldn’t believe he’d passed “so early,” as he seemed to be barely older than we were when he taught us.

Even as early as 11 years ago, we didn’t think we’d be losing someone we regarded so highly before we could even reach out to tell him what his teaching had meant to us. Keystonians weren’t like that anyway…there was no chorus of “To Sir with Love” being sung or anything like taking us "from crayons to perfume." In fact, we all still feel the pain of having our best word patterns and ideas smashed to bits because we were not specific, clear, concise, or logical in our presentation. He was the toughest taskmaster from whom we learned the most. We all had just been lulled into a sense of thinking the teachers we knew would always be there.

It wasn’t just me. It was so many of us finding time, when back in SA, to pop onto campus and see what had become of the “old place.” That practice began in the 1960s, and many of us “lifers” were delighted when we’d look up and see a fairly recent graduate back in town, coming to campus to visit with Mr. Greet, Prof, and Coach. Later, they would return to see Mr. Babel, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and Mr. Klaeveman, whose time at Keystone accounted for decade(s) of longevity. To remember and to be remembered was always a reward you could count on.

At least a decade ago, classmate Rick Meinig'75 would travel to San Antonio from Colorado and spend a week or two consistently in April, sometimes Easter week or Fiesta Week. During Rick's time here, many of us from the 70s and early 80s (and some spouses) would reconnect at events ranging from Spurs games to outdoor lunches at restaurants with patios. The pattern that began once soon became an annual tradition, which continues today for at least 25 of us plus or minus.

Next up: You never know what to expect at a Keystone reunion. Exciting things can happen! ...coming soon. [Note: All photos courtesy of DLW Yearbook Collection.]