PSU Magazine Spring 1992

I school-she was in the peculiar posi– tion of be ing a youthful ci tizen of the United States without taking part in the cultura l passages of the '60s and the '70s. Access to telev ision , for example– one of the most universal influences of most of Kurtz's generation-was severe– ly limited. "As a miss ionary family, there was no telev ision set in our home," she says. "Our only exposure to American television was on Friday nights. We'd go to a neighbor's house for a few hours to catch up on things." But even then, what was ava ilable in Ethiopia was years behind what was currently playing in the United States. "We'd see reruns of 'Lass ie Come Home' or 'Hawaii Five-0'-maybe a science program," Kurtz says. By the early '60s, telev ision-and by extension advertising's influence on telev ision- had begun to play a major role in the way America.defined itself. In Ethiopia, the decade of the '60s and '70s were marked by a Marxist revolu– tion and the overthrow of Haile Selass ie. In the United States, cultural changes during that same time encom– passed the relative innocence of the Kennedy years through the turbulence of the post-Vietnam War years. Kurtz's family had lived on the outside of major transformations in American culture. Kurtz returned to the United States in 1977 , when she was a sophomore in high school. Because she did not grow up in a culture of mass consumption, and because she was interested in writ– ing and the interplay of words and ideas, Kurtz was especially sensitive' to the dynamics of what she considered her new "life in a material culture." Although the first year's transition in a Minnesota suburb was difficult , Kurtz say~, she was more comfortable when her family moved to Portland the fo llowing year. Part of the reason was her enroll– ment at Jefferson High School, which is known for an innovative educational approach that places an emphas is on the arts. "There was enough freedom at Jeffer– son-so many outlandish people were going to school there-that I didn't stand out as being different," Kurtz says. But part of the transition from Ethiopia to Portland was adapting to different educational methods and standards. Kurtz says she fe lt unchal– lenged during her last two years of h igh school, and almost dropped out. It was only upon enrolling in Portland State University's honors program in 1980 that she experienced what she terms the "epiphany of understanding: 'O .K. This is it. No one's go ing to hold me back. It's up to me."' Marriage and the birth of a child briefly interrupted Kurtz's studies at Portland State University. But the mar– riage did not la t, and Kurtz returned to the university in 1985 to complete her undergraduate work in history. "It was upon returning to Portland State that I realized the va lue of an urban university environment," Kurtz says. "I was a single mother, working and going to school at the same time. I needed a setting that would understand The social context behind many of the museum's displays holds a certain fascination for Kurtz. those conditions." Portland State University fulfilled that role. Kurtz's undergraduate experience would later influence her to serve in university-related volunteer roles. Currently a member of the alumni board, Kurtz says, "I am pass ionate about making the quality of education– al experience that I had, available to other Portland State students." As part of her college program, Kurtz worked at a paid internship with the Washington County Museum. It was here that she was introduced to museum theory and ethics. And as she stud ied local history documents the museum specialized in-things like let– ters between fathers and daughters– Kurtz began to understand the relationship between an era's personal and local events and what happens on PSU 15