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EDITORIAL: Sandy Cofran

Sandy Cofran, who died September 28, worked at the Groton Herald for many of our early years of publication. She was the fastest and most accurate typist I have ever seen in action. Sandy came to us in January 1980 when the newspaper office was in a bedroom at our house. Later that year we moved to the unheated basement from where we produced the paper for the next two years. She became such a familiar addition to our home that our then little girls drew her into pictures of our house. Teachers would ask the child who that was in the drawing, and she would answer, “That’s Sandy. She lives in our cellar.”

As the years went by Sandy took on added responsibilities, not just typesetter, but general manager of the whole operation including driving the paper to the printers in Maynard when we finished pasting up the boards in the wee hours of Thursday mornings. Her good humor never failed to keep us laughing even when we were so tired it was probably dangerous for us to be driving. In the early ‘80s she wrote an occasional humor column which we printed on the editorial page. As a tribute to her and to her loyal efforts to help establish the paper, we are reprinting here one of her columns from the October 2, 1981 edition of The Groton Herald.

It’s the Latest, It’s the Greatest, It’s Glitter!
by Sandy Cofran

It’s truly autumn – the days are shorter, the air is crisp and fresh, and I have suffered through my fall wardrobe madness. It has to be a holdover from all that “back to school” business from my youth. As soon as Labor Day is over, I get a longing for a pencil case, notebooks and a new pair of shoes. As an adult, I channel this into the purchase of a new wardrobe.

Shopping can be a fantastic learning experience. I always go to the same shop and look for one particular clerk. She seems to have unlimited enthusiasm and imagination when it comes to putting clothes on my back. She treats me like I’m Bo Derek, even though I know I look more like John Derek.

She was in top form this year. She came bustling into my dressing room with an armful of outfits, yelling, “You’ve got to try these on – they’re the latest.” She assured me that metallic was “the look” this season – gold, silver, copper, bronze. “You need something glittery.” I felt like Dorothy on the yellow brick road.

The first little number was a silver pants suit. After nearly blinding myself by turning around too fast into the mirror, I was awestruck. I looked like a serving spoon with hair.

Her next idea was a green velvet pants suit with a long jacket and knickers. When I turned to the magic mirror once again, I couldn’t figure out how Toulouse-Lautrec had gotten into the dressing room with me.

The next outfit was a snappy suit with piping on the cuffs and hem. It had “the latest” too – padded shoulders. Mine come that way naturally, along with the rest of my body, so all I needed was a number on my chest to look like a Green Bay Packer.

The bunny fur coat looked neat, but I felt like a walking hutch. And, living in a rural community, I knew I would never survive the hunting season.

The checkered suit made me feel like a giant game board and the blue gauze caftan made me feel like a moth.

The ultimate thrill of the excursion was an evening ensemble consisting of a gold lamé jacket and black leather pants. I think I looked spiffy, but the pants made this little whimpering noise when I walked. I want my clothes to say something about me – not talk to me.

Dazzled as I was by all this, I left with a small bag containing a denim jumper and a wholesome-looking sweater. If I have to wear glitter this season, I’ll carry my teakettle for a purse.

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