![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vanillafluffyI learned the truth at 17...no, actually, I'd learned a few painful truths by then. At 17, I still thought the world was mine for the taking...when I was a little older. Meanwhile, it was just me and my dad, and in a lot of ways, that wasn't so bad. Like I said yesterday, he was fine with me having my girlfriends over as often as I wanted...he didn't care what time I turned out my lights; if I wanted to read til 11 PM, sure, fine, whatever.
FOOD was an issue. My weight was an issue. One of his sisters was overweight, and he'd berate me with "Do you want to weight 300 poounds like my sister?" or "Just a light snack?" if he thought I was over-eating. It got to where I'd play hooky from church because it was the only time I could be sure not to be interrupted with my favorite vice: Macaroni and cheese. For some reason, mac and cheese really pissed him off. Years later, when Agnes was married with a place of her own, I'd take refuge there to cook and gorge.
This was supposed to be my senior year, '77-78. I was supposed to be Class of '78, but because of a variety of reasons, it didn't work that way. St. Jerk's had conditioned me: I got passed there no matter how crappy my grades were, because they had the test scores and they knew that I knew the material. Not so at CHS! I bombed a lot of classes, between not doing homework and/or too much RL.
There was so much real life that I'm boggled trying to round it all up and describe it. I remeember my 17th birthday far better than my 16, for instance. Woody, from my Humanities class, and I went and saw Star Wars. Which turned into a Thing: Big Red and I spent numerous consecutive Saturday afternoons watching it again and again; she and I had our own snark and in jokes...I think we ended up seeing it something like 26 times.
The summer before I turned 18 was busy: remedial math, since I'd flunked that, finally getting my diver's license (3rd time's the charm!) and a trip up North that was pivotal in many ways....
First I went to Staten Island. Not much had changed. Aunt Mary and Uncle Al and I went up to Lake George for a few days...my last trip there, as it turned up, but at the time, it was happy and familiar. There was a guy about my age named George Harrison (Yes, like the Beatle!) staying there, and we spent a lot of time in the game room playing pool and flirting.
From Lake George, Mary and Al dropped me off at my cousin Honey's in New Jersey. The idea was that I'd stay there for the weekend and a party she was having and go back Sunday evening and fly out on Monday morning. (As it turned out, she ended up taking me to the airport.)
Bear in mind, this was 1978. Pot was everywhere, although this was the first time *I* ever had any. Whoa! Awesome! Although Cousin Honey was 10-15 years older than I was, we got quite chummy. I ended up staying and hanging out there, and the night before I left, we went to the movies and saw "Heaven Can Wait", one of the big summer movies along with "Foul Play" and "Grease". The was the remake of "Here Comes Mr. Jordan", which I'd watched with my mom a long time ago.
Never saw it? Warren Beatty is a saxaphone-player quarterback for the Rams who is inadvertantly taken to Heaven before his time by a novice angel. (I have no doubt in my mind that someone, somewhere is writing/has written/is contemplating a SPN version. No doubt whatsoever.) I fell like a ton of bricks for Warren Beatty, and years later, the reprecussions are still resounding.
Fandom was about to change my life forever.
.
FOOD was an issue. My weight was an issue. One of his sisters was overweight, and he'd berate me with "Do you want to weight 300 poounds like my sister?" or "Just a light snack?" if he thought I was over-eating. It got to where I'd play hooky from church because it was the only time I could be sure not to be interrupted with my favorite vice: Macaroni and cheese. For some reason, mac and cheese really pissed him off. Years later, when Agnes was married with a place of her own, I'd take refuge there to cook and gorge.
This was supposed to be my senior year, '77-78. I was supposed to be Class of '78, but because of a variety of reasons, it didn't work that way. St. Jerk's had conditioned me: I got passed there no matter how crappy my grades were, because they had the test scores and they knew that I knew the material. Not so at CHS! I bombed a lot of classes, between not doing homework and/or too much RL.
There was so much real life that I'm boggled trying to round it all up and describe it. I remeember my 17th birthday far better than my 16, for instance. Woody, from my Humanities class, and I went and saw Star Wars. Which turned into a Thing: Big Red and I spent numerous consecutive Saturday afternoons watching it again and again; she and I had our own snark and in jokes...I think we ended up seeing it something like 26 times.
The summer before I turned 18 was busy: remedial math, since I'd flunked that, finally getting my diver's license (3rd time's the charm!) and a trip up North that was pivotal in many ways....
First I went to Staten Island. Not much had changed. Aunt Mary and Uncle Al and I went up to Lake George for a few days...my last trip there, as it turned up, but at the time, it was happy and familiar. There was a guy about my age named George Harrison (Yes, like the Beatle!) staying there, and we spent a lot of time in the game room playing pool and flirting.
From Lake George, Mary and Al dropped me off at my cousin Honey's in New Jersey. The idea was that I'd stay there for the weekend and a party she was having and go back Sunday evening and fly out on Monday morning. (As it turned out, she ended up taking me to the airport.)
Bear in mind, this was 1978. Pot was everywhere, although this was the first time *I* ever had any. Whoa! Awesome! Although Cousin Honey was 10-15 years older than I was, we got quite chummy. I ended up staying and hanging out there, and the night before I left, we went to the movies and saw "Heaven Can Wait", one of the big summer movies along with "Foul Play" and "Grease". The was the remake of "Here Comes Mr. Jordan", which I'd watched with my mom a long time ago.
Never saw it? Warren Beatty is a saxaphone-player quarterback for the Rams who is inadvertantly taken to Heaven before his time by a novice angel. (I have no doubt in my mind that someone, somewhere is writing/has written/is contemplating a SPN version. No doubt whatsoever.) I fell like a ton of bricks for Warren Beatty, and years later, the reprecussions are still resounding.
Fandom was about to change my life forever.
.