Day 1

Day 1: Applying / Acceptance by University of Houston, Summer of 1964 WC: 1668

High school was a lonely and empty experience. At one point, I seriously considered becoming a nun. The vision I had of the future was so foggy. There had been no role models in my life; no pattern to align myself with. Mother had her hands full with managing a full time job, eight children and a husband who was both illiterate and employed only sporadically. He had to have one of us kids find telephone numbers in the phone book, because he could not read. He was ashame, but that was a fact. We all were latch key children, left home alone from the time school let out at three oclock til Mom came home from work at past five. Dad was sometimes there, but usually not.. if he was not working, he was at the painters local visiting with other unemployed painters.
My husband years later told me that I was the only one in the whole pack who had a brain. I had early taken stock of myself and figured that out as well. In reviewing the pros and cons of my existence and personal attributes or shortcomings, I saw that I would never be a model because I was way too short, with short legs, short arms, and generally a small body. I was cute, but not gorgeous, and had no connections to getting into the Hollywood set, so becoming an actress was out. Neither would I be able to be an airline stewardess, due to airline height requirements. What I did have was two quite beautiful boobs and an excellent brain. I could learn anything, and had a rather good wit. So I decided to maximize my mind and use what small physical assets I had to my advantage. I would make my way in the world with the power of my intelligence and the milky white perfection of my boobs.. see through blouses and college degrees would help me in my quest for success.
In my teenage years, I had two good friends, Jennifer Hume and Ellie Boardman. Jennifer was a horse lover, and had a thoroughbred stallion named Maximillian stabled at the local country club. Her father had some position in the diplomat corps and they had previously lived in London. She was an only child and had whatever she wanted. She and I spent days at the stables, grooming Max. I watched her riding competitions, as she rode English side saddle with jodphurs and a little riding helmet on. She made a smashing appearance and I was very proud to be her friend. Ellie lived next door to my family. Her father had worked as a finance and accounting guy with some company. Ellie's mother smoked a corn cob pipe. I liked that.. she was so different. Her little brother was cute, and as I recall there was always a short stack of pancakes on a plate on the stove that they could snack on anytime they wanted. To me, that seemed odd.. cold pancakes did not appeal much to me.
In those years sewing and design took ahold of me and has not let me go since. The Barbie doll craze was at its zenith, and all the neighborhood girls had a number of them. They pleaded for clothing for them.. hounding their parents at every opportunity to get the latest evening gown or shoes or blue jeans and jackets for their Barbies. I discovered I had an enterprising spirit and set my love of sewing to work on designing and hand sewing Barbie wardrobes to sell to these little girls. I was so excited that I could do something and make money. It was delicious fun to create the patterns, cut, sew and trim them with decorations. I added touches of embroidery or beads to give them some style.
Through the high school years, I took part in plays and was a member of the choir, singing contralto. We had a pretty good choir and I was in the plays South Pacific and Pygmalion. Both were about women who had personality and spunk (a stupid word for hutzpah). I studied Russian language for a term and also spent an entire semester studying the Peloponessian Wars, with all the strategies and campaigns of Hannibal detailed in full. Both of these classes, Russian and History, made my high school world touched with a bit of magic. It id dnot matter to me that I was not dating yet. In fact, high school boys seemed to be the most ridiculously idiotic creatures ever to walk on the earth. I could not imagine spending an evening with one of them. They were insipid and insecure, seeming to need continual ego boosting by some empty headed girl who had nothing better to do. So I turned away from all that. Life was long, after all and I was in no hurry to waste my time in this way. I had other things to do, like making money selling copies of my homework to lazy kids. I made a steady income this way, only a dollar a copy.. after all it was the sixties, when wages were very low. When the final year at Westbury Senior High School came around, I was so eager to be done with it all, to get into the world and make my way. Mother forced me to go to the senior prom, dressed in a frothy pink creation that made me feel ridiculous. She tried to persuade me to go in the company of my brother, but I absolutely refused to do that. I preferred to go alone if I had to go at all. The entire evening was spent lined up along one wall of the gymnasium, with all the other girls, staring across at the line of boys on the opposite wall and just wishing someone, just someone, would do something. This dance was so dead, so silly. Finally, as girls next to me were asked to dance by those boys who at last broke ranks and braved the long walk across the wooden flooring, I went to the restroom where I sat hiding in one of the toilet stalls until most of the damn silly event was over. I went home to get my graduation present fromy my mother, a necklace watch with the face of Mona Lisa on it. It was quite nice and I appreciated that she at least gave me something that was artistic.
The graduation ceremony too was a lonely affair. Neither Mother nor Dad could attend, so I sat by myself, watching the class one by one parade up to get their diploma. Mark Krinsky, a boy I had a crush on, sat way down in the front row. He was a top achieving student and had a terrific smile. I did not think he knew I was alive. I never spoke to him, just admired him. I went home that evening with a bit of a depressed feeling. What to do now? was the question that troubled me. No more scheduled days.. my structure and sense of normality was upset. I decided that week to apply to college. Filling out and mailing the application to the University of Houston, I then waited anxiously for word, for something to hang my tomorrows on. Then, just after my parents decided to move from Houston to Orange County, California, I got the letter of acceptance. I was crushed. How could I stay behind and to college? I had no money nor job to earn money, and they had used up any funds for college on my older sister Rose, who was now graduating with Summa Cum Laude honors. I was on my own.. but my mother insisted that I was to go to California as well, so my desire was of no matter. I left behind that opportunity and we all piled into the car and headed to California. It was a long and not so comfortable drive, with so many of us packed in the station wagon. Dad drove his truck ahead of us, and we made the drive in some three or four days.
Our arrival late at night to Anaheim was on an amazingly clear and beautiful night. I will never forget it. It was magical, and we happened to drive near Disneyland, the magic kingdom. All of us were speaking with Texas accents and did not fit into the California style very well. In the next week, Mother and Dad found a house to rent and for the next six months I spent in a deep, deep depression. I had no where to go.. nothing to offer to anyone. I was in despair. Once again, I did a self assessment of what was good and bad about being me, and thankfully the positives again outweighed the negatives. Okay, so what to do? I set out to get any kind of job I could. I actually walked to stores within a few miles and asked everywhere for a job. I found one at Sprouse Reitz Five and Dime store, after a long walk that included a driver pulling over and trying to persuade me to get into his car with him. That could have been a deadly thing to do. I worked during the holiday season at Sprouse, then was once again unemployed. Desperate, when an employment counselor told me about a job training program, I at once agreed to join in. It was a training program to earn a license to be a nurse aide. The program lasted about six months and a small check was paid during the program, as well as a stipend for transportation costs. Mother drove me to the training site each day, which was held at Orange Coast Community College. Near the end of the training program, I got a job at a nearby hospital, Palm Harbor Hospital in Garden Grove.