In 1978, I received a Literary Associates award from the Rocky Mountain Womens Institute for 1978-79. RMWI was an exciting, life-changing challenge. Crossing diverse cultural lines, the associates supported one another creatively in every way possible, and in many ways that seemed impossible in that era. They swelled the numbers in the audience at any performance; thronged art show openings; were always in the front row for poetry readings and exulted in their fellow artists' success. Weekly gatherings fostered fellowship and appreciation that continues more than three decades later.

My projected goal was a book of poems titled Trios, in the varied voices of my mother, my daughter and me, in response to our shared life experiences. No subject was off limits, as I explained to my then-70-year-old mother. I expected some resistance, but she embraced the project with her whole heart. My artist-daughter was much absorbed with her college ventures, yet made time to give me her input as the book manuscript alternated between too little and too much, waning and waxing.

I'm told I was the first applicant to be considered who had to keep a 40 hour-a-week job. I could not afford to give up a paying job, but had to find some way to spend at least 20 hours on campus. So among other things I used my stipend on cab fare. I chose to save one expense by being my own typist, but the comparative luxury of taxiing from job to campus enabled me to use my time in transit creatively. An entirely new feeling of entitlement made me bloom. A new schedule became family routine. My good husband, who at the outset could not help but resent his dinner being delayed an hour or more, ended up by working late himself so he could pick me up whenever I finished my stint. He did this cheerfully; no grumbling. It became clear that I was not the only one of us who was growing.

My RWMI experience helped me move forward into a literary career that decades later is reflected in my new book, What to Make of Silence. RMWI showed me what to make of mine. I will always be grateful to RMWI granting me the chance for, as the poet Langston Hughes put it, a dream deferred.