Day 9

Day 9: Meeting Pete: Modeling for him; Working at Snelling & Snelling, Moving in With Him WC: 1700

In the first months that I was spending time with Pete, he was incredibly kind and so completely handsome, I fell deeply and irreversibly in love with him. One day I was driving in a car with friends along a highway through an area of rolling hills covered with yellow grasses that looked like a velvet coating on the slopes. As I looked at the contours of the horizon, I saw he profile of his face in them. It was extraordinary, seeing him in even the geography of the earth. The feeling of being lost in love for him was so strong, it felt that I was born to be with him. It would be forever for us. My mother was stunned, because he was her age. I let her know she had no right to say anything, that I made my own life and always had in things that mattered. Poor mother.. she had not chosen a good husband, but an uneducated and at times mean spirited man. He drank and fought with her. Finally she dumped him and later married a good man.
I moved in with Pete, to his home on the corner of Maui Circle, and there we lived for about a year until after we married and then moved. He took me first to meet Bob and Patti Meyers, his long time friends in El Centro, near the Mexican border. Bob was a foreign car mechanic and Patti worked for the Employment Development Department of California, in the El Centro office. She and Bob had almost the same age difference as Pete and I did, and like us, they had no children of their marriage. They just enjoyed the life they had together. It was like ours, peaceful and full of love and opportunities together. Bob did his work at home, in his shop. Patti went to the office every day. They had built a home from a quonset hut, a half dome metal building used on a military base previously, that they had added to with sprawling wings and large rooms. It was a unique home, to say the least, always cool inside due to the outstanding air system Bob had installed. Both Bob and Patti had smoked pot in the past, and probably still did, but never when we were there visiting.
Pete was an upholsterer, making his living in his garage. He had been doing that work for years and had also built a business for his ex-wife, called Custom Boudoir. His ex was named Pauline, a petite redhead who kept the home they had shared in Fountain Valley. It was a very large and luxurious home, with furniture custom made by Pete, of course. There were velvet wing chairs, tufted and hand tied day beds, and double welted sofas. His two daughters, one his own biological daughter, named Pamela, and his stepdaughter Paula lived in the house with their mother. Paula had been married but was at that time divorced. Pamela was just twelve years old when Pete and I met. In fact, I tried to persuade him to repair things with Pauline for the sake of the child. He refused, saying he could not live with her anymore, and we were to go forward with our lives together.
Pete's ex, Pauline, and I became friends. She came to our house for dinner at times, and we all were on good terms. She called me “Lucky Jolene” because I had so many opportunities and adventures, and was progressing in my career well. Perhaps she meant it sarcastically, but it was ot said in any tone that suggested that. Her busines was doing well, and of course she had the nice home through the divorce. Pete and I had married in a civil ceremony in Alamosa, Sonora, Mexico.
It was a Saturday mornng, and the day before Pete had said we should marry, and he evidently found out where to go to do it. We went the next morning, early, in the early morning coolness, to the town's central plaza, which was bounded at one end by an old Spanish colonial building hundreds of years old, where the government offices were housed. The official there had a small office on the second floor, down a long open walkway that overlooked the open garden area of the building. It was a long balcony that was on all sides of the open courtyard of the building. That morning, when we entered his office, the wood floor was still damp from the mopping he had ordered done before we arrived. There was a fresh rose bloom in a slim glass vase on his desk, and the entire room smelled as it had been thoroughly freshened up. We waited while someone was sent out to the plaza to find two witnesses, or testigos, for the signing of the marriage certificate. When they came, then the ceremony began. I do not remember if there was any ring, but I believe that Pete had one that served well enough, and it was such a touching and charming ceremony. I liked it that it was so private, with no relatives or anyone else present other than he and I and the officials. It was entirely something that only the two of us would share. After the ceremony was over, we strolled back out to the plaza and up the stairs into a beautiful old gazebo where our photos were taken. I still have those pictures and when I look at them, I marvel that I was that young and he was that handsome. It seems a world away now.
We spent more than two months in Alamosa, in our Spartan mobile home, which was like an Airstream, a predecesso of it. We had redone the entire inside of the home in a plush manner, and outside it was the steel body that was not new but looked good nevertheless. There was a double bed foam mattress built in at the rear end of it, and there was a complete bathroom with shower, sink and toilet as well as a complete kitchen with a Magic Chef stove top and oven, run on propane. The living room area had a nice sofa and seating with a dining table that folded up when not in use. The floor of the mobile home was what they call kitchen carpet, a tight weave foam backed carpet that was durable and had a nice design. The closet was in the hallway, across from the bathroom.Both had sliding wooden doors. The entire mobile home was done very nicely. I have not realized until now, writing about it, how much work my husband had put into refurbishing it. God bless him always and eternally. He gave me all he could, and I was so very happy. The colors inside were yellows, a happy environment all in all.
A small traveling circus came to Alamosa and we went to see it. There was a lion tamer, elephants, trapeze artists, and clowns of course. We sat on the front row beside the performance ring. A young girl in a gold lame leotard pranced around the wooden wall of the ring, waving greetings to all the audience. When she came to where we sat, she smiled and flirted with Pete. He laughed, and for years afterward, joked about the golden girl. That evening, after dinner at the best little restaurant in Alamosa, we walked down the cobblestone street toward the mobile home, enjoying the vendors and their wares on tables on both sides of the street. Pete bought me a very large piggy bank, which was white and painted with colorful flowers. I was never happier in my life.
In the months that followed, we found a bay inlet that was oyster beds to the max. We sunk our toes and feet into the wet mushy sand and dug our fingers in deep to pull out the shelled creature. We collected several buckets full to use for making oyster stew. For two days we ate it, sharing it with our neighbors and giving half a bucket of oysters to a family nearby. Each day we savored sleeping in, waking naturally with the warm sun rising, having long leisurely coffees and breakfasts while we talked of so many things. There were vendors coming through the park where we were housed, who sold a variety of things from armadillo handbags to opals to serapes to huarache sandals. The drinking water man came by every day also.. shouting “L'aqua, L'aqua !” to all. We bought his aqua, because it was purified water that would not give us diarhea.
We were careful of what we ate.. avoiding unwashed green vegetables and other things that human hands would probably have touched. The cheeses of Mexico were good, but some were best not indulged in as they may have been made with not so much care. Mexican coffee, Nescafe brand, was super, and Mexican hot chocoate was delicious also. Head cheese tacos made me queasy and nauseous. Rose drink also was capable of invoking a gagging sensation. For diversion, I read Spanish newspapers and even a novel at times. Board games in Spanish were fun, and of course I was still doing watercolors and taking photographs. In those days, my tastes in food was not as adventurous as it would become with age. The gelatos were delicious and there were many new flavors of them that I found wonderful: guava, mango, and other exotic tropical flavors that I cannot even recall now. Orchata, the rice drink, was really pleasant with its cinnamon flavoring. And who could resist flan, with its creamy caramel coating? Finally, there were ceviche and tortuga dishes, big caldrons of wonderful seafood flavors with seasonings and vegetables. Sometimes on the beaches there would be a huge community type fish grilling, with a channel dug out of the sand, filled with briguets and burning wood, and wire grills set on top layered with the fresh catch of the day. It was truly marvelous.