By Linda C. Reynolds

Rose Mary Evans grew up in a loving, kind, generous family, living in the house where her mother was born. Today, she lives in a comfortable home in a wooded setting of bucolic beauty surrounded by birds, wind chimes, wild flowers, a fountain, garden and her cats, Lou and Mercy.

Her parents, Wilson, '30 and Ellen Evans, '30, provided the close, loving family background which is often in direct contrast to the people she works with as a psychotherapist.

Rose Mary Evans

Evans, '62, majored in English, earned a master's degree in social work from the University of Maryland in 1969 and then began her career as a psychotherapist.

"I got into this field because I was interested and wanted to understand others and myself better," said Evans. "As a psychotherapist, I can direct the insight of the client by exploring the mind or subconscious in depth, without prescribing prescription drugs, as psychiatrists do."

To date, her most challenging case is one that recently received national exposure as a CBS Sunday night movie, The Secret Path, starring Della Reese and Ossie Davis.

The movie, based on Evans' book Childhood's Thief, details the struggles of a 47-year old client, "JoAnn."

"I was working part-time at a Maryland community outpatient mental health clinic in 1970 when I first met JoAnn," Evans explained. "She was severely depressed, unable to cope at work or at home and could not recall a single event of her childhood and adolescence. We would eventually discover the reason, debilitating mental, sexual and physical abuse."

Evans said the condition is not uncommon.

"Actually, the degree to which the past was hidden from her consciousness is not so rare among our clients, but what was unusual was the commitment and determination she brought to the search for the repressed events of her childhood," she said. "Where others may be content to unearth just enough of their past to see the foundation on which their lives are built, JoAnn had to get to the bedrock."

JoAnn's commitment and determination to remember led Evans to an interesting finding.

"Her approach led to another dichotomy; the search moved her from almost nothing remembered to practically nothing forgotten," said Evans. "I've often said another therapist could have helped JoAnn, but I don't believe anyone else could have put in the time I did outside the office visits."

Augmenting the weekly sessions was nearly 5,000 pages of stream-of-consciousness writing, often handwritten, that she read through.

"Working part-time, I had time to reflect and think about what she was writing," Evans explained. "JoAnn was with me a lot mentally, and still is."

Evans admits she often felt at a loss to lead JoAnn through the therapy.

"I had vague ideas about what the repression might mean, but twenty years ago, we simply didn't understand to the degree we do today about severe child abuse and its ramifications," she stated. "Sometimes, in our profession, we feel we can't show any ignorance or 'not knowing' but I had to be honest. That's who I am."

Evans' sincerity proved successful.

"JoAnn responded to my earnestness," she said. "Another psychotherapist reassured me that it was because 'you haven't been through it, you don't have preconceived notions and your vision hasn't been clouded trying to work around all the hurt.'"

Evans credits much of abuse awareness today with the Women's Movement in the '70s. She recalled women holding "consciousness-raising" groups where they could talk openly about previously "taboo" topics.

"Someone might say, 'I had a really rotten childhood because this happened or that happened,'" she said. "Then someone else would say, 'The same thing happened to me,' so we began to see patterns. It opened our eyes and gave us insight to the whole subject."

Another change in psychotherapy according to Evans is the "intake interview" when clients are first seen to find out what the issues are and to make an assessment. She said that in the 60s and 70s it wasn't a normal part of the information gathering to ask about abuse, or even alcoholism unless the client mentioned it as a problem.

She said because of the questions now asked in the intake interview, she could have made better assessments.

Evans is grateful Childhood's Thief was made into a movie because it deals with those issues.

"I was told Reese looked at 50 scripts, yet she chose mine," marvels Evans. "I never dreamed the book would be turned into a movie. It's just so amazing to me!"

Evans wondered why her story was chosen.

Rose Mary Evans

"I think it touched her in a spiritual way," Evans offered. "The book's themes-the importance of love, simple kindness, a generous spirit, reaching out to others-are ones that Reese's series, Touched By An Angel emphasizes as she does in her personal ministry."

Evans thought the movie compared favorably to the book.

"The movie has a different perspective than the book and I accept that," she said. "After all, film is a different medium from the printed word."

In the movie, the abuse was portrayed subtly. The focus was on the old, black couple, 'Honey' and her husband, 'Too Tall' befriending the abused child and their relationship.

"The couple didn't rush at JoAnn," Evans said. "They were just gentle, quiet, calm, not saying a lot to start with. It was more of an attitude they conveyed that was in such contrast to the violent family life JoAnn knew."

Evans believes listening was the key to the relationship between JoAnn and the couple.

'I believe loving is about 75% listening, and while it appears to be an easy thing to do, it's really not that simple," she said. "If we can listen without judging, that's the key. I was raised by caring people who taught me how to listen.

"Honey and Too Tall were mentors, something that is so important in one's development," she said. "Recently, I heard Colin Powell speak about it. That's what so many of the clubs and programs out there are all about; spending time with children-listening to them."

Evans said that while JoAnn's time with Honey and Too Tall was short, it was extremely beneficial.

"They only had one year together, but, the couple taught her things that changed JoAnn's life and influenced her so that she did not follow her family's destructive pattern," said Evans.

Evans learned about the importance of listening while at Berea.

"When I was a student, I remember a teacher, Emily Ann Smith, who listened to me when I needed her to hear me," she said. "I was in a composition class but hated the writing. I was late turning in assignments because I didn't seem to want to do them. It was near the end of term and I had to turn in a notebook and I hadn't written the last three papers. I told her I just couldn't do it, I was too far behind.

"She said to me, 'There is no reason you can't have another week to get it done,' so I completed the assignments. She cared and offered an extended hand when I needed it."

When Evans started work on the book she again turned to her former professor for help.

"When I first thought about writing this book, I took the first few pages to her home in Berea and said I'm writing this, but I'm scared to say it's a book because I don't know if that will ever happen," Evans recalled. "I thought she would just be excited for me, but instead she asked questions like, 'What's important about this story? What is it you want to tell people? What's different about this story from other abuse stories?' She got me to articulate why I was tackling this project."

Evans said that in addition to caring and listening she learned another important lesson at Berea that she applies to her profession.

"I had so many wonderful teachers at Berea," she said. "Smith was direct, steely, used language beautifully, but more than that she and others had a passion for teaching. Wherever it is, or whatever it's attached to, passion is something we need in our lives."