Stories from the 60's and 70's
Fellow OLGers: We are starting this blog to publish stories which you may have and want to share from our childhood and teen age years, and our twenties. Since most of us have not been in contact for many years, some of us thought that it would be fun to share personal stories from the 60's and 70's. We hope to keep this clean, so please use discretion. What we are looking for is anything that strikes a funny bone, or is significant to your life, or is indicative of those crazy times which we all lived through. Of course, memories of OLG would be fun to hear too. So please, have a good time with this, and try not to b.s.. We all know by now how inventive you all can be!!
posted by Tstar @ 12:59 PM
9 comments
9 Comments:
I have ZERO experience with blogs. Never wrote or read one. But I’m jumping in just the same. Please let me know if I violate some etiquette of Bloglandia. For one thing, this blog is probably too long!
And another thing - - -
Instead of a blog, I think this should be called our bOLG.
Anyway, I thought I’d start this little cruise down Memory Blvd. by remembering my very first day at Our Lady of Grace Skewl (as Sr. Vincent would say). I started at OLG in the 6th grade. My family had just moved to the Valley from Central L.A.
And my Dad, you see, was not only an excellent physician and surgeon, but a father of 3 boys (and 5 girls). So when it came to butch haircuts he was a pretty good barber, too. But by 6th grade, after 12 years of butch haircuts and now starting a new life, I wanted some hair on my head. So the day before school started my Dad attempted to give me a real haircut that would actually leave hair on my head. It didn’t work. I should say, it only partially worked. When I stepped onto the warm asphalt that bright September morning – late, as always – scared half to death by a sea of unfamiliar faces, I looked like I’d been mauled by a hair-eating hyena. As far as I was concerned my head was a wheat field after a tornado. I naturally have a cow-lick or two anyway, but this looked like I’d taken a licking by the whole herd. As I walked the gauntlet from the front of the 6th grade line to my place at the back, trying to look nonchalant, trying to look under control, I heard one of you lugs say, “Look at his hair!” and so I knew that I not only felt like an idiot I did, in fact, look like an idiot. I wished I could’ve just disappeared.
But NOOOO ---
As it turned out, when we finally got to our classroom – when I should’ve been able to slink down into a seat and finally just blend into the camouflage of 6th grade boredom – there were not enough desks to go around. And I, having been late and at the back of the line and therefore last into the room, had to stand while someone, our teacher I suppose, fussed around looking for something that the poor (idiot-looking) new kid could sit in. Finally, a chair was found and placed, thank God, at the back of the room. I slunk (or slinked) as best I could.
The one saving grace was that Brian Guerin, as I recall, also temporarily didn’t have a desk and had to sit in a chair at the back of the room, too. So, the two of us sat back there grinning occasionally to each other at our misfortune, and I felt like at least I had some cohort among my new classmates. Of course, I wasn’t sure why Brian was grinning, actually. He, after all, had a butch haircut.
And in parting (which I can do now, to my hair) I’ll pose an entirely unrelated question, for your consideration:
Who among our teachers at Our Lady of Grace was related (so she claimed) to a famous ballet dancer? I understand they were sisters. Tina Vallone and Teri Starkweather, I think, are not eligible to answer this question because they gave me the information. Or, rather, gave it to Sr. Mary Joseph.
I, like John Villar, have a vivid memory of my first day at OLG and then my next recollection goes straight to the last day. What happened in the middle is still somewhat of a blur.
I was very nervous my first day at OLG. Of course the 'fear of the unknown' was ever present but what was worse --- I was coming from a public school. And we all know what was thought of 'public school kids'. I was terrified that I whould be shunned -- or even worse be stoned! (With rocks.) But soon a saving angel came in the form of one Susan Scheve. She was so nice to me when I first came to OLG and made my transition to the new regement as smooth and painless as it could be. I will always remember, and be thankful for, Susan's kindness during such a difficult time.
My next recollection goes straight to the end of school. Just after graduation Dick Drilling had a party for our class. It was difficult to get the dancing started so all the girls had to throw one of their shoes into a pile. Then each of the boys had to pick up a shoe and dance with the girl that was wearing the corresponding shoe. David Remington picked up my shocking pink sandal. Being as I was, and still am, about a foot taller than David he and I decided to sit the dance out and talk. During our 3 minute conversation he said something that I thought was very profound and deep -- especially for an eight grader. He said that he found our conversation to be very enjoyable and that he was pleasently surprized to find out that I was (am?) a very nice person. Then David expressed sadness at the fact that so many of us did not get to know our classmates better during our years at OLG and now those precious years were gone forever and we were all going off in different directions and high schools.
At the reunion in 2004 I reminded David of our conversation in 1964 and how I was impressed with his deep insight. From that conversation at the reunion began a deep friendship. David and I now have frequent phone conversations during which I often lament over that missed dance.
Last night David joined me and three of my friends for an evening of dancing in Bakersfield. We had a great time and David and I made up for that missed dancein 1964. We have discovered that height is not an issue between friends and we enjoyed a wonderful dance that was worth the 42 year wait.
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great job, you guys, far surpassing my attempt at throwing in a twig into the log pile. What is a blog, anyway? It is fun to trip down memory lane. Keeps us sane, I suppose. good job, John.
don't know the trivia answer.
I have just a few memories of my first year at OLG which was 4th grade. I clearly remember Jeffrey Carl's. At least I think that's what his name was. We used to walk home from school together. Then when that tragic day happened, I felt like my life had changed at the age of 9. This was my first experience with loosing someone I really liked and it was so hard to understand that I'll never see him again or walk home with him again.
Oh yes, and my wonderful nicknames, Tim Cizin and Joe Moede gave me.Probably some of you out there as well. Let's see... Maria Hankerchief, Hang that witch!, Maria Heck of a witch, Hanky cabbage..
And then in 7th grade we were driving home from church when I looked out my car window and saw Joe Moede and Tim Cizin walking just a few blocks away from my house, towards my house. As soon as we got home, I must have tried on 10 different outfits for I was so nervous that they were coming to see me. Of course I pretended to be real suprised when they showed up!
My favorite time of year was in May when we had the May processions. Maybe because we would sing Ave Maria?
Oh, and thanks Arlene for giving me my first taste of an avocado. I remember she used to eat avocado sandwiches all the time.
Thanks guys, for letting me share.
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Hi Everyone!
Enjoyed reading the few stories that are up there. HELLO! Where is everyone else??? As for my stories, you don't even want me to go there. HATED IT!!! As from the words of my granddaughter, WHAT-EVER!
Hello Everyone!
Enjoyed the few comments. HELLO! Where are the rest of you. As for my memories, you don't even want me to go there. HATED IT! As from the words of my granddaughter, "WHAT-EVER"!
Hope to see more memories.
Thanks for a great reunion.
Di
This being October, I thought I’d offer a blog about an unusual Halloween experience I had as a little kid. This happened before I came to OLG, but I figure it’s still blog-worthy.
Before living in the Valley we lived in an area of Los Angeles of big, traditional 1920s-era homes that at Halloween time really didn’t need any scary dressing up. With their high, steep roofs and deep dark porches they were already scary to a little kid. I remember being frightened just by the old dark trees and thick shrubbery that surrounded a lot of them.
This particular Halloween, which was when I was about eight or nine years old, our little group went out with my adult sister as chaperon and, since we were intent on hitting as many houses as we could, we ended up being out pretty late. We had been to practically every house in the neighborhood when we came to one that was absolutely dark, showing no signs of welcoming trick-or-treaters. I remember it was one of the extra high two-story houses with two large gables, lots of dark windows, a big lawn and shadowy shrubs in the front, and a driveway that stretched back along one side of the house and dissolved into the darkness of the backyard. About midway down the driveway was a gate of some sort. As forbidding as the outside of the house looked, something inside – something we had no notion of but were about to experience – was even more forbidding. (OOOOooooooohh!!!)
Just as we arrived at the beginning of the driveway, hesitating about whether or not we should try this place, the house exploded with a tremendous boom and a flash that lit up and blew out every window we could see. With the explosion there came something big and dark crashing through some glass on the side of the house along the driveway, hitting the gate and falling to the ground.
We were stunned. And before we could be anything other than stunned part of the thing that had come flying through the glass stood up in the darkness and ran down the driveway and across the lawn right in front of us. I couldn’t understand – I couldn’t grasp what I was seeing. An apparently unoccupied house had blown up, some big shadow that was about the size of a car had come flying out and then part of it had stood up and run away.
As flames rose in the house and began to lap out the windows, the street filled with people and commotion. And it seemed like no time before there were also sirens and flashing lights and fire trucks. We just stood there, watching.
I don’t recall anyone in authority ever asking us to give witness to what we had seen. Maybe someone did talk to my sister. But we did hear later that this had been the work of an arsonist – an obviously amateur arsonist who poured gasoline all around the house and then, standing there among the fumes, lit a match. Fortunately for him, the explosion apparently blew him right into a sofa and then both of them right out the French doors onto the driveway, where they parted ways.
I don’t know if the person was ever caught, or if he ever even stopped running. I’ve wondered if he ultimately survived his adventure. We certainly did. And I always thought it was absolutely the best Halloween trick ever.
I also remember the Halloween we TP-ed Paul Picerni’s house. But that’s another story. Anybody else out there have a fun Halloween story – or confession??
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