Lorraine: And you know what? You cannot depend on your kids. I have a book club. I sing at the Newman Center. I do suicide prevention—tomorrow I’m teaching a suicide prevention class with the Suicide Prevention Group. I have my foot care business. I work at the Downtown Clinic. I’m a Democrat. I’m a precinct person. I mean, I’m just always involved in politics.

So would you really give that up and start again at 75—depending on your children to make your life? I don’t think so. I don’t think so.

After 50 years, I finished my BSN [Bachelor of Science in Nursing] in 2016. And people said, “What the hell are you doing that for?” I said, “I wanted to.”

When I was in Rawlins, Weber State came and did classes. There was no internet. Back then, the only options for nurses were administration or education. So I decided to get a teaching degree—because that’s all I could get. I already had a three-year diploma, but I wanted a bachelor’s degree. So I got that bachelor’s and came here. I thought, “Yeah.” I had tried to enroll at Pace University right after I graduated from my three-year program, but then I fell in love [with my future husband].

And then I went to Rawlins. I said, “Is that a university?” And he—Dan—said, “Oh honey, I think it’s a refinery.” I went, “Oh God, no. My God.” He was a Yonkers boy. “What do you mean? That’s 10 miles up from Midtown Manhattan!” But that’s how my life went.

Nancy: You’ve lived in Wyoming, you said, for 42 years?

Lorraine: Forty-two years now. It’s crazy. I think it was 1976 when I moved here.

Nancy: Have you observed it change? I mean, you’re so deeply involved in the community. I’m just curious about your reflections—being in Wyoming over so many decades, all the work you do for the community. What do you think about this as a place—as one of your places?

Lorraine: I always say I’m a New Yorker and I live in Wyoming. Even though I have two Wyoming natives and one born in the Bronx...When my daughter was in kindergarten, she said, “Don’t tell people I was born in the Bronx.” They thought she was such a weirdo.

So I said, “Tell them where your playground was.” She asked, “Why?” I said, “Tell them.” So she told the kids, “Well, my playground was on the roof of the school.” And they went, “What!?” And then she started telling them more of those things, and it made a difference. Like—“Your playground is on the roof of your school building?” “Yeah—where else would it be?” So she started to get along better after that.

But I found that people in Rawlins were very nice. I don’t know what’s happening now, politically. People have been torn asunder. And I really feel bad about that—because I feel like I can... I mean, I’m a Catholic who believes in choice and gay marriage. I’m very active Catholic. I practice what I believe. 

But it’s hard to talk to some people around here. They don’t want to have a conversation if you don’t agree with them politically. We used to be able to do that—talk to people. 

And some people still deal with that, but I think we’ve gotten a little cruel. At the Eppson Center, they say, “Shh! Don’t talk about that! Don’t say that—because so-and-so and so-and-so are here.” I say, “Yeah—sorry.”

Somebody said, “You’re gonna vote, right?” I said, “Of course I’m going to vote. And I’m not voting for a sex offender. A convicted sex offender.” People go, “Shhh! Don’t say that—because she [the lady over there] supports him.” I said, “She can talk to me about it. I’d be more than happy.” Now, I don’t say that when I’m doing foot care at my clinic.

I say that at my exercise class. But I do have a few people who love to dialogue with me—because they’re of my ilk.

Note: The transcript above has been condensed from its original audio recording to improve the flow and readability of the story.