Well Jennifer and I hit it off very well. She asked me one day , "Can I put my stuff in your locker?" I was a senior and the senior got lockers and then the juniors got any leftover ones. I moved some stuff out and made room for her stuff. I actually put a bunch of my stuff into my backpack so she could have room. We went everywhere together. I can't tell you how many times we went to the LA County fair in Pomona. Eileen, Sheelah's sister used to get us in for free. We never really went on any rides. We just walked around and hung out.
I'm not sure how soon after we had started dating that I met her parents, Delbert and Lois Clark. I didn't know if they would like me or not. They were very wonderful and welcoming people. They made me feel right at home. Lois was worried that I was too skinny and always invited me to stay for dinner. I stayed and had dinner with the Clarks.
We officially had started dating in September and in November we started talking about marriage. It was actually her idea. I think she said something to the effect that we should get married. Without a moments hesitation, I said yeah, that'd be cool or something. Around Christmas, I sold my guitar with an amp and some effects to buy her a ring. It was my first guitar and I know people say you should keep your first guitar or whatever, but this was way more important. We got engaged and were married on September 21st, 1985 exactly one year from when we started dating. I was 18 and she was a month shy of 17.
I had started working around April or May at Thrifty's while still in high school. I was also taking a residential wiring class though ROP in hopes of obtaining some type of job after high school. After high school, I continued to work at Thrifty's and then started working as Wendy's on my off days. I was just until I could find something full time. I thought if I didnt have one full time job, I could work two part time ones. You might think this sounds crazy, but that's what I did. After I hit 18, I moved out a began living in a room behind Jen's house until we got married. After we got married, we lived with Delbert and Lois for a few months and then moved into an apartment next door to Wendy's.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
From bad to really horrible to something promising
The summer between my junior and senior years of high school was a very terrible time. Very chaotic too. I was trying to get my life on track and decided the best way was to try and quit drinking and smoking marijuana completely. Go cold turkey. I did okay, but fell off back into a few times when days got really, really bad. During this time, Bob had moved out. I stayed living with Sheelah, Robert, and Erin. Bob came around a couple of times to complain to us kids about how horrible his life had become and how he was kicked out off the house. He never stopped to consider how this affected anyone else. I usually just blew him off and and said something like " uh, whatever". My 17th birthday was a milestone day. No one was home as usual. I went to my friend Eric's house. When I got there, we went into his garage and he said" Happy birthday!" and presented me with the only gift I received that day. It was a bottle of Bailey's. I popped it open and then started chugging it. Eric said, "Hey man, save some for me!" So I handed him the bottle back and thanked him. We hung out for a couple of hours and then I went back home. When I got home, Bob was there asking where everybody was. I told him that I didn't know. Then he started in as usual. Sheelah this, Sheelah that. After a few minutes, I had had enough. I said "F--- you!. Its my birthday and you didnt say anything and you come in here and ......" Yeah, I used many sentence enhancers and chased him out. I let him know that he wasn't welcome here.
I lived with Sheelah rather than going to stay with my dad. That must sound very strange, but I had enough of him and I was so completely filled with hatred that I would have enjoyed beating him into a slow death.
I started working on my plan of escape back to Maine. Sheelah started dating Merlin. My dad came around a couple more times. My friend of mine at the time was always trying to get me to take my dad's side. He kept laying a heavy guilt trip on me about how my dad needed me and how I was letting him down and everything. I just said okay, whatever. I just focused all the more on my plan to move to Maine and disappear.
Now with summer almost over and school starting soon, Eric and I continued to hang out and play guitar and talk about girls. I had decided to go back to Ontario High. I even got the same dumb counselor who put me into that bilingual history class when I was a freshman. We had been talking about taking some work experience classes and started looking through the list of ROP(regional occupational program) classes. I suddenly got what I thought was a wonderful idea. I suggested that we take the cosmetology class. My reasoning was that we'd be the only two guys in a class FULL of girls. He was worried that people might think that we were gay. I told him that he was stupid and no one was going think that. We argued about it for a little while and then one of us, probably Eric said hey how about retail sales. We could hang out at the mall, get credit, work training, and the girls would be in that class too. We signed up when school started and it was fun. Eric was a little mad though. In the mall there was a music store that we both wanted to work at and only one student was allowed per store. I got the music store. Pedrini's Music. It's not in the Montclair Plaza anymore, but it was fun. This is where I met Eric's friend , Jennifer Clark. They had a math class together and they talked about school and stuff. She was very nice to me and I thought she was pretty. The three of us would walk around the mall together just talking about everything. Whenever she'd stand next to me, Eric would get a weird look on his face and move between us. Obviously, he liked her and I was a threat. He was a friend so I backed off. Jennifer would come around and talk to me at school. I was nervous. I mean here's this girl and she's flirting with me, but my friend Eric really likes her or so I thought. I ask him about her in a non threatening way. He laughed and said no that they were just friends and that I should go for it. I had read EVERYTHING the wrong way. A couple of days later, after ROP was over with for the day, she hands me a note and leaves. I open it up and she has written something like how cool I was or something and to call her. Her phone number was in it. I kind of went into a state of panic. Here's this girl who has so much going for her and she is interested in ME ?!?! I mean I had asked a girl to the movies or dances and stuff like that, but it was usually after a friend set me up. I almost thought this was a joke. I waited a couple of more days and then bit the bullet and dialed her number. Her mom answered and then turned the phone over to Jennifer. I don't really remember what we talked about, but we talked for a really long time. It was really great. I still wasn't expecting how it would turn out.
I lived with Sheelah rather than going to stay with my dad. That must sound very strange, but I had enough of him and I was so completely filled with hatred that I would have enjoyed beating him into a slow death.
I started working on my plan of escape back to Maine. Sheelah started dating Merlin. My dad came around a couple more times. My friend of mine at the time was always trying to get me to take my dad's side. He kept laying a heavy guilt trip on me about how my dad needed me and how I was letting him down and everything. I just said okay, whatever. I just focused all the more on my plan to move to Maine and disappear.
Now with summer almost over and school starting soon, Eric and I continued to hang out and play guitar and talk about girls. I had decided to go back to Ontario High. I even got the same dumb counselor who put me into that bilingual history class when I was a freshman. We had been talking about taking some work experience classes and started looking through the list of ROP(regional occupational program) classes. I suddenly got what I thought was a wonderful idea. I suggested that we take the cosmetology class. My reasoning was that we'd be the only two guys in a class FULL of girls. He was worried that people might think that we were gay. I told him that he was stupid and no one was going think that. We argued about it for a little while and then one of us, probably Eric said hey how about retail sales. We could hang out at the mall, get credit, work training, and the girls would be in that class too. We signed up when school started and it was fun. Eric was a little mad though. In the mall there was a music store that we both wanted to work at and only one student was allowed per store. I got the music store. Pedrini's Music. It's not in the Montclair Plaza anymore, but it was fun. This is where I met Eric's friend , Jennifer Clark. They had a math class together and they talked about school and stuff. She was very nice to me and I thought she was pretty. The three of us would walk around the mall together just talking about everything. Whenever she'd stand next to me, Eric would get a weird look on his face and move between us. Obviously, he liked her and I was a threat. He was a friend so I backed off. Jennifer would come around and talk to me at school. I was nervous. I mean here's this girl and she's flirting with me, but my friend Eric really likes her or so I thought. I ask him about her in a non threatening way. He laughed and said no that they were just friends and that I should go for it. I had read EVERYTHING the wrong way. A couple of days later, after ROP was over with for the day, she hands me a note and leaves. I open it up and she has written something like how cool I was or something and to call her. Her phone number was in it. I kind of went into a state of panic. Here's this girl who has so much going for her and she is interested in ME ?!?! I mean I had asked a girl to the movies or dances and stuff like that, but it was usually after a friend set me up. I almost thought this was a joke. I waited a couple of more days and then bit the bullet and dialed her number. Her mom answered and then turned the phone over to Jennifer. I don't really remember what we talked about, but we talked for a really long time. It was really great. I still wasn't expecting how it would turn out.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Back in Ontario, California
After many wonderful days in Maine, I came back "home". Sounds kind of of funny. If you have read my past blogs, home wasn't really too homey. Home always has to do with a feeling at ease, welcomed, loved and everything else that makes home, home. Well, I was back. My parents fed me a line of how much they missed me and how they needed me back home. They had heard that I had worked at a couple of places and promised to hook me up with a job when I got home and they made a few other promises too. My dad had heard that I had taken up the guitar and made a bookshelf around these giant Wharfdale cabinets. He gave me a amp that he picked up at Fender when he worked there. The amp was originally a combo, but was damaged. My dad made it into a head. Okay, things were starting to look up. Notice I said, starting!
At 16, I got a job working a CJ's Market. It was a little mini mart/gas station and it was right around the corner from where we were living at the time. It started off as a summer job and turned into an after school kind of thing. I would help unload the delivery trucks, sweep and mop the floor, stock the walk-in refrigerator, bag ice, and a few other things. It wasn't a bad job. One of the guys working there showed me that you could drink beer on the job if you didn't get caught. He was an adult and should have known better, but as the assistant manager he thought he should show me a fringe benefit of the job. He said that he had a technique. He said you open the bottle carefully making sure you didn't mess up the cap. You drink most, but not all of the beer. You push the top back onto the bottle and set it on the rack. Then you go about your stocking duties and "accidentally" knock the bottle off the rack and it breaks on the ground. You just need to save the necks with the caps still on them and the vendors will give the store credit. Free beer! He told me not to tell anyone else even though everyone else did it. He said not to do it a lot or it looks suspicious. Everything was going pretty good and worked there for almost a year. One thing about the job was that you could have a tab. You could eat, drink, buy cigs, and even get gas on your tab. You'd just write down the amount and it was deducted from your check. I had a tab for a little while. I'd stop in and put something on my tab. Get a burrito or something on a break and put that on there too. Just a little here and there. Well, I begin to notice that my checks were becoming less and less. Even on weeks were I was "tab free", my checks was not the correct amount. My biggest surprise was when I got a check for around $40.00 for two weeks worth of work. It should have been closer to $150. I asked about it and the lady who was the head cashier said that I had a big tab. I asked to see it. When I asked about the charges I was told that this person from my family put a carton of cigarettes on my tab, someone else bought gas and a couple of six packs of Dr. Pepper. I went through the roof! I closed my tab. I told them I didn't not want a tab and that my family wasnt going to charge stuff to it. Well, a member needed to gas up their car and tried to use the tab. They were denied, but then persisted because it was a "misunderstanding". Being friends with the owners made it possible for my tab to be reopened without my knowledge once again. I caught hell later that day and was told that I put this person in a bad spot and blah, blah, blah. I don't remember what I said but it was met with a slap. Once again, I slowly turned back into the person I had been before going to Maine. I was trying to save up enough money to go back to Maine. I just wanted to get away and disappear. I thought of the people I knew in Maine and hatched a plan to work on a fishing boat. I'd earn my keep and never see these people again. Since I was not 18, I was repeatedly told that if I tried to leave earlier, I'd be picked up by the police as a runaway and would be taken to jail. So I kept my plan to myself. I tried to do the bank thing once, but it never works when someone is running the account for you. Instead, I would cash my checks and hide cash behind the plastic outlet covers. I tried under my bed and the usual places, but people were in and out of our house and my room would get ransacked. While working, I was told to buy my own clothes and stuff. Now imagine my amazement when coming home from school and I'd find people I didn't know wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed, sitting in my room, etc. I put a lock on my door, but it was always broken.
I did my junior year at Rubidoux High in Riverside. Sheelah's mother Dee Dee lived in Mira Loma and I used her address to go to Rubidoux. There was a bus stop by her place. My dad would drop me off in the morning and after school I would walk from Swan Lake Mobile Home Park to my house. Walking on Hamner back in the day when there was nothing out there was scary. A number of times I had weird guys try to give me a ride. I started carrying a pocket knife. I would open it and slip it into my watch band. That way I could conceal it with my hand, but it was ready if I ever needed it.
I spent most of the year at Rubidoux smoking pot at school or drinking by myself at home. My life had been a big disappointment. Now it just seemed to go from bad to worse. I couldn't wait for eighteen to come.
At 16, I got a job working a CJ's Market. It was a little mini mart/gas station and it was right around the corner from where we were living at the time. It started off as a summer job and turned into an after school kind of thing. I would help unload the delivery trucks, sweep and mop the floor, stock the walk-in refrigerator, bag ice, and a few other things. It wasn't a bad job. One of the guys working there showed me that you could drink beer on the job if you didn't get caught. He was an adult and should have known better, but as the assistant manager he thought he should show me a fringe benefit of the job. He said that he had a technique. He said you open the bottle carefully making sure you didn't mess up the cap. You drink most, but not all of the beer. You push the top back onto the bottle and set it on the rack. Then you go about your stocking duties and "accidentally" knock the bottle off the rack and it breaks on the ground. You just need to save the necks with the caps still on them and the vendors will give the store credit. Free beer! He told me not to tell anyone else even though everyone else did it. He said not to do it a lot or it looks suspicious. Everything was going pretty good and worked there for almost a year. One thing about the job was that you could have a tab. You could eat, drink, buy cigs, and even get gas on your tab. You'd just write down the amount and it was deducted from your check. I had a tab for a little while. I'd stop in and put something on my tab. Get a burrito or something on a break and put that on there too. Just a little here and there. Well, I begin to notice that my checks were becoming less and less. Even on weeks were I was "tab free", my checks was not the correct amount. My biggest surprise was when I got a check for around $40.00 for two weeks worth of work. It should have been closer to $150. I asked about it and the lady who was the head cashier said that I had a big tab. I asked to see it. When I asked about the charges I was told that this person from my family put a carton of cigarettes on my tab, someone else bought gas and a couple of six packs of Dr. Pepper. I went through the roof! I closed my tab. I told them I didn't not want a tab and that my family wasnt going to charge stuff to it. Well, a member needed to gas up their car and tried to use the tab. They were denied, but then persisted because it was a "misunderstanding". Being friends with the owners made it possible for my tab to be reopened without my knowledge once again. I caught hell later that day and was told that I put this person in a bad spot and blah, blah, blah. I don't remember what I said but it was met with a slap. Once again, I slowly turned back into the person I had been before going to Maine. I was trying to save up enough money to go back to Maine. I just wanted to get away and disappear. I thought of the people I knew in Maine and hatched a plan to work on a fishing boat. I'd earn my keep and never see these people again. Since I was not 18, I was repeatedly told that if I tried to leave earlier, I'd be picked up by the police as a runaway and would be taken to jail. So I kept my plan to myself. I tried to do the bank thing once, but it never works when someone is running the account for you. Instead, I would cash my checks and hide cash behind the plastic outlet covers. I tried under my bed and the usual places, but people were in and out of our house and my room would get ransacked. While working, I was told to buy my own clothes and stuff. Now imagine my amazement when coming home from school and I'd find people I didn't know wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed, sitting in my room, etc. I put a lock on my door, but it was always broken.
I did my junior year at Rubidoux High in Riverside. Sheelah's mother Dee Dee lived in Mira Loma and I used her address to go to Rubidoux. There was a bus stop by her place. My dad would drop me off in the morning and after school I would walk from Swan Lake Mobile Home Park to my house. Walking on Hamner back in the day when there was nothing out there was scary. A number of times I had weird guys try to give me a ride. I started carrying a pocket knife. I would open it and slip it into my watch band. That way I could conceal it with my hand, but it was ready if I ever needed it.
I spent most of the year at Rubidoux smoking pot at school or drinking by myself at home. My life had been a big disappointment. Now it just seemed to go from bad to worse. I couldn't wait for eighteen to come.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Camden, Maine #6
I did a lot of stuff. At my grandparents church, I started working with the pastor recording the services. It wasn't very hard. I sat in a room at a desk and on the desk was a little tape recorder. The pastor would make start and stop points on the bulletin of what I needed to record. No mixing board or anything else. Just a little tape recorder with a wire that lead from the pulpit and ended at the microphone jack. The tapes were copied and taken to the shut ins. I remember visiting some of those people. I'd go with the associate pastor and another kid. We'd usually visit them in the old folks home. We'd talk for a long time, but time seemed to really fly by. Getting in and visiting was easy. Leaving was an entirely different matter. The old people heard that we were there and they decided that we were there to see them as well. We'd talk to a few of them. It was hard to see so many people desperate for someone, anyone to stop and share a few words with them. I enjoyed going, but I always wondered where the families were. Most of my friends went to the church and so did the cute girls. I was there just about whenever the doors were open.
If I wasn't at the church, I'd be hanging out with Gideon at the music store. Another place to hang out was the bookstore. I liked to read and I noticed that the girls either hung out here or worked here. The bookstore was two stories and had a cafe downstairs. On a few occasions, we'd have Earl Grey Tea and scones with jam. We'd discuss music, books, girls, etc. This was way before Starbucks. The cafe was usually filled with older people. We were the only "kids" in the place. They would always watch us cautiously. I don't think it helped that Gideon wore a trench coat most of the time. A "cooler" place to hang out was Fitzpatrick's. It was a little seaside dinner that was owned by a mutual friend. At least that's how it seemed. Some of our friends worked there as well.
One day, I was waiting for Gideon to show up and I wondered into a place called Nantucket Model T's. It was a place that sold T shirts to tourist and that is where I met Barbara Hoch. She ran the store and taught me how to make shirts. She had moved to Maine from Long Island, NY with her husband Andy and their son Yarrow. I "worked" at the store for a little while. Truthfully I just hung out and talked to Barbara and the other workers. Most of the shirts I made were for myself. I don't remember how it happened, but either Andy or Barbara invited me over to their home. They became a surrogate family in many ways. I think I was at their house more than I was at "home". I don't think I ever told them how much I appreciated them. Andy was an artist and a genius. I have met people who were talented, but he was extremely gifted. He could make just about anything. I went with him a few times to "hunt" for wood. He could pick up a piece of a tree or a branch or a rock and tell you what he was going to do with it. Not in an arrogant, self centered way. He would pick up a rock and say "I see a fish" or "I see a lighthouse". Next time I saw the rock, it had been carved into what he saw it to be. Their home was amazing. It was an old barn. The living room, dining room and kitchen were downstairs. The den and bedrooms were upstairs and at the very top was their master bedroom. It had a 360 degree view. Every door in the house had a weighted pulley system. You'd walk through a door and it would close behind you. The house was in a constant state of change. Andy would get an idea to improve this or that and I'd go to hang out and help anyway possible. He was always drawing something or making something. Always creating. His son is the same way. All three of them were very creative.
I used to go with my grandparents to the transportation museum in Owlshead. They were volunteers. We would go there after the place closed and helped clean up the vehicles. Dusting, polishing chrome, windexing windows, armoralling the tires and interiors,etc. I got a chance to go behind the ropes and sit in World War II aircraft while cleaning the inside. I got to sit in Packards, Buicks, Chevys, and many other old cars. It was pretty cool.
If I wasn't at the church, I'd be hanging out with Gideon at the music store. Another place to hang out was the bookstore. I liked to read and I noticed that the girls either hung out here or worked here. The bookstore was two stories and had a cafe downstairs. On a few occasions, we'd have Earl Grey Tea and scones with jam. We'd discuss music, books, girls, etc. This was way before Starbucks. The cafe was usually filled with older people. We were the only "kids" in the place. They would always watch us cautiously. I don't think it helped that Gideon wore a trench coat most of the time. A "cooler" place to hang out was Fitzpatrick's. It was a little seaside dinner that was owned by a mutual friend. At least that's how it seemed. Some of our friends worked there as well.
I used to go with my grandparents to the transportation museum in Owlshead. They were volunteers. We would go there after the place closed and helped clean up the vehicles. Dusting, polishing chrome, windexing windows, armoralling the tires and interiors,etc. I got a chance to go behind the ropes and sit in World War II aircraft while cleaning the inside. I got to sit in Packards, Buicks, Chevys, and many other old cars. It was pretty cool.
Camden, Maine #5
I know I've been posting a lot about my year and nine month stay in Maine, but it was a pretty big turning point for me. Things were coming together. I was learning that I could actually do something rather than just take up space or get under foot. My grandparents actually liked having me around. I liked them. It was a great thing. I actually got paid for helping out and a little bit for helping out in the tin shop. I started buying my own clothes and stuff. Making choices on my own. A lot of firsts.
After working a little bit in the tin shop, my grandma helped me get my first real job. Her friend Nancy managed the Yacht Club. I worked during the summer and I did pretty good. I was setting up tables inside and outside, sweeping and mopping the dining hall, and helping the maintenance guy. Helping meant doing all the stuff that he didnt want to do. I scrubbed toilets, hauled trash, did some minor painting. The season ended and so did the job.
I used to hang out with Gideon at Wild Rufus Records. This was a giant store that looked like three shops joined together. The record store had just about anything you could ever think of. Brand new stuff right when it came out, old standards, rare imports, etc. Towards the back part of the store, they had guitars, basses, drum, and assorted band instruments. I bought my first six string for $30.
I used to carry that thing all over town. I didn't know how to play it, but it was just
something to build my identity and my confidence. Gideon taught some basics and I was off. I picked up an amp and then more people wanted to hang out with you and swap riffs.
I used to hang out with Gideon at Wild Rufus Records. This was a giant store that looked like three shops joined together. The record store had just about anything you could ever think of. Brand new stuff right when it came out, old standards, rare imports, etc. Towards the back part of the store, they had guitars, basses, drum, and assorted band instruments. I bought my first six string for $30.
I used to carry that thing all over town. I didn't know how to play it, but it was just
something to build my identity and my confidence. Gideon taught some basics and I was off. I picked up an amp and then more people wanted to hang out with you and swap riffs.
Once, my grandparents took me to Nova Scotia. We took the ferry, swam in the quarry, and a bunch of other things. It was also my birthday. One of the best I ever had. It seemed like everything I did with them was better. I know most people wouldn't want to be seen with their grandparents, but they really were great.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)