Listings in Directory
Sharon L Hewitt
Short Description
Class of 1968
Who would have thought it! I am a retired Navy chief petty officer, having active duty and drilling reserve from 1978 through 1998 as a Navy Journalist. "J.O".s were responsible for such internal publications as command news papers and for external public communications, i.e., press relations and releases, those ubiquitous hometown news stories, and so forth. Chiefs also hold a general leadership function within their commands, along with their specialty tasks. As an administrative type of the adventuresome sort, I had assignments in an out of the field. I served in aviation, NATO, surface (that's an ocean to non-Navy people), submarine, Sea Bee (Construction Battalion), intelligence, and the Bureau of Personnel commands. Aside from a brief public affairs assignment in Norway {it was wonderful), I was in Norfolk, VA, and D.C. I never served at sea. Sea duty for women in my rating was extremely rare, except for the last few years. Then I was almost 50 and my body was against running up and down steel ladders in damp conditions to keep up with people between 17 and 25 years old. I met a lot of interesting people and even kissed Bob Hope on the check.
My civilian work was largely in community relations. I have run Meals on Wheels and food pantries, worked with migrant labor ( know the difference between "truckqueros" and "cayotes"), and so forth. I, also, have been a newspaper reporter and assistant editor (just starting when big advertising accounts fell out of newspapers and the jobs were gone). I hold a Virginia Press Association first place for international/national news reporting.
I received my bachelor's in American History from the University of South Florida, Tampa, in 1980. When my Alliance College semester hours translated into USF's quarter hours, I graduated with 285 hours, about 100 more than needed. The quality and scope of Alliance instruction was such that USF had trouble finding undergraduate hours for me to take. We cheated and threw in a few of those undergrad/grad courses. At one point, USF offered to finagle a few rules, throw a couple of grad courses my way, have me skip the B.A. and go directly to a master's. I was just relieved to complete a B.A.
I did not graduate with my Alliance College class in 1968. Except for three instances, I had no memory of the second semester of my senior year there for nearly 10 years after. The night before we were to leave for the 1967 Christmas break, I was nearly strangled to death by an attacker in the ground floor shower/laundry room of the old hotel that was the senior women's dormitory. Bob the Cop insisted that he take me to a doctor at a hospital. Typical for such victims, I said no, I was fine. I was legal age; under the law then, he was unable do take me without my consent. That law has changed: a murderous attack is like having your leg ripped off and the victim is automatically hospitalized. Later, I learned that the attacker and a buddy had abducted, brutalized and strangled three other college girls in Meadville and Edinboro that Fall. For years I referred to those victims as "the other dead girls". I did not complete my 470. Dean Ilsevich insisted I keep after the topic of Benito Juarez's pronouncements that I had first selected at the start of our senior year. But, I had discovered that that Juarez's works weren't translated; I was not competent enough in Spanish to do the work myself. I could get the gist of what he'd written, but just enough to be impressed. I identified a different topic. One clear memory I had of that Spring was of the dean asking what he was supposed to tell his doctoral program's major professor at Pit about the paper on Juarez he had committed to present, if I did not give him my Juarez work. I felt so cheated, so betrayed, by one we deeply respected. (I also recall nasty classroom outbursts I made at Sofie and at Anna Smardz, both of whom I thought of highly and cherished. I don't know why I did that; they didn't deserve it).
For decades I felt my that my identity, my life as it had been built to become, was gone in a sudden puff. I was certainly isolated, made radically different from those Alliance College friends. But, aren't we now each different from who we were at 21? Haven't each of us gone in ways, to one degree or another, different than expected? And, sometimes, hasn't it been breath-takeningly lonely, or horribly crowded? I recently recovered from a bad sinus infection (in Florida!) to realize my health is great, the bills are paid, the roof doesn't leak, the car runs fine, nobody in the family is in a state pen, has a disease you can't talk about in public or is addicted to something they shouldn't be. Even the cat doesn't have fleas. And, I can cuss in Polish.
Who would have thought it! I am a retired Navy chief petty officer, having active duty and drilling reserve from 1978 through 1998 as a Navy Journalist. "J.O".s were responsible for such internal publications as command news papers and for external public communications, i.e., press relations and releases, those ubiquitous hometown news stories, and so forth. Chiefs also hold a general leadership function within their commands, along with their specialty tasks. As an administrative type of the adventuresome sort, I had assignments in an out of the field. I served in aviation, NATO, surface (that's an ocean to non-Navy people), submarine, Sea Bee (Construction Battalion), intelligence, and the Bureau of Personnel commands. Aside from a brief public affairs assignment in Norway {it was wonderful), I was in Norfolk, VA, and D.C. I never served at sea. Sea duty for women in my rating was extremely rare, except for the last few years. Then I was almost 50 and my body was against running up and down steel ladders in damp conditions to keep up with people between 17 and 25 years old. I met a lot of interesting people and even kissed Bob Hope on the check.
My civilian work was largely in community relations. I have run Meals on Wheels and food pantries, worked with migrant labor ( know the difference between "truckqueros" and "cayotes"), and so forth. I, also, have been a newspaper reporter and assistant editor (just starting when big advertising accounts fell out of newspapers and the jobs were gone). I hold a Virginia Press Association first place for international/national news reporting.
I received my bachelor's in American History from the University of South Florida, Tampa, in 1980. When my Alliance College semester hours translated into USF's quarter hours, I graduated with 285 hours, about 100 more than needed. The quality and scope of Alliance instruction was such that USF had trouble finding undergraduate hours for me to take. We cheated and threw in a few of those undergrad/grad courses. At one point, USF offered to finagle a few rules, throw a couple of grad courses my way, have me skip the B.A. and go directly to a master's. I was just relieved to complete a B.A.
I did not graduate with my Alliance College class in 1968. Except for three instances, I had no memory of the second semester of my senior year there for nearly 10 years after. The night before we were to leave for the 1967 Christmas break, I was nearly strangled to death by an attacker in the ground floor shower/laundry room of the old hotel that was the senior women's dormitory. Bob the Cop insisted that he take me to a doctor at a hospital. Typical for such victims, I said no, I was fine. I was legal age; under the law then, he was unable do take me without my consent. That law has changed: a murderous attack is like having your leg ripped off and the victim is automatically hospitalized. Later, I learned that the attacker and a buddy had abducted, brutalized and strangled three other college girls in Meadville and Edinboro that Fall. For years I referred to those victims as "the other dead girls". I did not complete my 470. Dean Ilsevich insisted I keep after the topic of Benito Juarez's pronouncements that I had first selected at the start of our senior year. But, I had discovered that that Juarez's works weren't translated; I was not competent enough in Spanish to do the work myself. I could get the gist of what he'd written, but just enough to be impressed. I identified a different topic. One clear memory I had of that Spring was of the dean asking what he was supposed to tell his doctoral program's major professor at Pit about the paper on Juarez he had committed to present, if I did not give him my Juarez work. I felt so cheated, so betrayed, by one we deeply respected. (I also recall nasty classroom outbursts I made at Sofie and at Anna Smardz, both of whom I thought of highly and cherished. I don't know why I did that; they didn't deserve it).
For decades I felt my that my identity, my life as it had been built to become, was gone in a sudden puff. I was certainly isolated, made radically different from those Alliance College friends. But, aren't we now each different from who we were at 21? Haven't each of us gone in ways, to one degree or another, different than expected? And, sometimes, hasn't it been breath-takeningly lonely, or horribly crowded? I recently recovered from a bad sinus infection (in Florida!) to realize my health is great, the bills are paid, the roof doesn't leak, the car runs fine, nobody in the family is in a state pen, has a disease you can't talk about in public or is addicted to something they shouldn't be. Even the cat doesn't have fleas. And, I can cuss in Polish.