A new high school on the west side of Tucson was just finished and we lived in the new lines of demarcation. The city was divided into some sort of quadrants such that students from all over the city, even those on the far east side, were relegated to  the far west side to join this new education venture… open classrooms; social studies and English taught together; “Pods” instead of halls; an inner atrium of plants, science taught by “Learning Activity Packets” or LABs, …..  all were designed to make the change less bitter for those students who were attending more “elite” schools.  We certainly were a mix and an experiment.

The first year we had 9th-11th grades.  There were all the regular classes to choose from, including choir.  I rode the bus and still was one of the “outcasts’ but somehow I had become used to it and it didn’t appear to bother me as much.

I enjoyed Spanish ( most girls had a crush on the teacher) and feeling like perhaps I might be somewhat smart because I was in the “college-bound” course stream.  I finished the science labs early; struggled through Chemistry but got by, began to discern the groups forming; elite and middle-upper middle class; athletes and jocks; cowboys and cowgirls (mostly from west side);  hippies and others; and loners like myself.  I felt I didn’t fit into any one group; some groups were projected onto me because of where I lived.  I wished to become part of the group of smart students, however due to other factors such as clothing, perhaps some BO still???, and the fact that I couldn’t join any clubs, etc. due to my home situation, I was living a social yet alone life. For the first year, it seemed that when I did talk to students in class, they seemed surprised regarding my level of intellect.  I still stuttered and would receive lower scores in my presentations and good enough scores on my assignments.  I still didn’t have much time or space to truly study or write at home, therefore my work was what I was able to do in study hall.

Home life was dismal in many ways, my 10th and 11th grade times were fraught with attempting to get used to a rhythm that changed lots… but I did manage to baby-sit to earn some money.. much given to Mother.  I still did not have any autonomy with respect to clothing, my mother purchased all our clothes and we wore what she brought.

Somehow I remember hot pants and go-go boots on my mother .. and even I wore a pair but I didn’t feel comfortable in them at all. I suspect I was afraid of going down the path of my sister and mother with respect to sexuality and didn’t find that appealing, especially with respect to the boys and men I saw.  Most men seemed to leer at girls/women and it was distasteful to see.  I did like one boy who left junior high school and came back to Cholla as a junior, he was shy and good looking and smart, he was on the football team but I suspected he didn’t like it very much. Now if he and I had gotten to know one another better then.. who knows?

My mother had a boyfriend who brought his camper down the flats ( as we called it, the rock house on the hill with terraces of desert brush and stairs connecting the two realms).  One weekend day when Mother was working in the bar, he asked me to accompany him to the camper to get something for the house.  When he made a pass at me and I refused, the next thing I knew he was gone. My mother saw that some guns had been taken ( I didn’t even know we had them..); she and my oldest brother took the next weekend and drove to find him to no avail.  I never told her what happened as she would have blamed me for his disappearance ( she would be right on one hand); and I didn’t have enough trust in her judgment to see that I didn’t do anything to encourage him. I suspected her boyfriend thought I would tell her about the situation so he left.

My younger sister was more inclined to find love/affection/connection wherever she could, she has a beautiful heart and spirit, very caring and loving.  She fought against the restrictions she found herself in, whether in school or home. One evening after I came home from babysitting down the road, my brothers came to tell me that she had run away, my brothers had caught her in a compromising situation upstairs in the only bedroom for all of us.  Finding her, my mother declared her incorrigible and then she under the care of the county and went to a foster home. More change and sadness.

 

I did go on a few dates, one with an older boy who had a Harley motorcycle, we went to my high school’s dance, he was a good dancer and was from New York.  I think I met him at a park ???  In any case, I had a good time even as I burned my leg on the pipes… but I knew once he saw the house and my brothers, all would be gone.. and I was right. I know he thought I would be looking for a way out of the situation and he didn’t want to be a part of it.  I didn’t blame him, for a night I had a good time and turned eyes from other students… how did she land with him?????

 

The end of my junior year ended all possibilities of me thinking I had some connection to transcendence with respect to singing as a way to connect to beauty, fun, belonging, etc.  I had been in choir for two years and the other students were ones that came from the east side, more connected, more social, more part of the fabric of what many thought a high school should be.  I found out that there was no place for me in that realm.  My choir teacher, whom  I had liked very much as he was young, vibrant, exacting and helpful, and…..he had a tall red-head student teacher my junior year that everyone liked, called me in and asked me NOT to join choir the next year.  When I asked him why, he said the other students didn’t want me, they asked him to have me not to be a part of the group. .  When I asked him what I would substitute for it, he said I could work in the music office.  I left his office stunned and very hurt.  Here again I was being asked, by nice but non-effective adults, to BE the adult in this situation.  His communication to me was effectively saying…” you know you are not accepted because of your background, of your current situation ( I thought the BO had been taken care of).  So, please for the sake of the whole, bow out and take another path”. I told my mother that I was asked not to join and the reason was my voice was not good enough.  I didn’t tell her the truth, because I didn’t trust her not to act in the manner she did in my earlier days, and given the situation, she might force me to quit.  I didn’t want any more changes, and I didn’t want to be beholden to my mother in the future because she would believe that she had saved me, come to my rescue.  I didn’t wish to owe her anymore than I already had, that of to stay and help with the boys.

My only defiant act in my junior year was to not accept my mother’s  offer to buy me cowboy boots for my daily wear, I didn’t like them and didn’t wish to be more of a showcase for high school students to further deride me. I would rather wear worn out and dirty saddle shoes than new cowboy boots. I know she was disappointed and felt perhaps that I looked down on her; it was more that her style was not mine, and she had no idea of the high school situation and what the boots would have done to me.

If this wasn’t enough, the summer between my junior and senior years our house caught fire. We had many papers in the fireplace and so a fire was set to burn them.. we thought it was safe given that the screen was in front of it as normal, however wind from the chimney blew paper out over an onto our “carpet”, old pieces of carpet sewed together by my mother and grandmother to cover the cement floors.. the carpet as dry and old was a perfect medium for fueling the ensuing blaze. Mother was at the bar.. not working … and I was in charge. The fire destroyed the insides, we tried to put it out by the use of hoses to little relief, it was too fast and furious. Fire engines did come as they didn’t want the entire hill to go ablaze.  My father came and I went with him, brothers and mother went to other homes.  One dog died of smoke inhalation.  I met for the first time my father’s new wife and her sons and one daughter.  They lived cleanly and somewhat modestly then.  She was very nice.  My father asked me what I was going to do now.  He wanted me to “run away”.. declare that I didn’t want to live with my mother as I was old enough now to make that decision.  Then he would do what he could to have my brothers come to live with them.  I knew his plan wouldn’t work, most of all because I wasn’t willing to be the point person for the family’s splitting apart.   I knew my mother wasn’t the best but right now she needed help. but I also knew the circumstances and felt for her.. as I had felt for my father when he left. He was disappointed and I went back. I was disappointed in my father for asking me to be the conduit  for his desires.. for me to take the hits. My mother was angry that I had been with him, I think she was afraid I would stay with him.  A new trailer was bought from the insurance money and hauled up next to the burned out shell of a house… although the walls were 18 inches thick and was not in danger of falling down.  I had my own room at one end of the trailer, four boys slept in bunk beds .. two one each side of the small room, my brother slept on the couch bed.

Senior year was again full of changes. I became increasingly anxious about going to college and had completed forms for scholarships, including that fact that I was to be in on-campus housing.  My mother changed the application unknown to me, so when I received the acceptance with a scholarship but no aid for living, I knew what she had done.  In addition, I remember crying sometimes in the music office when I heard the singing, I felt so hurt and alone, knowing  there were places I couldn’t belong, no matter how I wished for it.  I had become friendly with the elderly couple down the road  who said if I ever needed a place to live, I could live with them. My grandmother moved back to Tucson, married and lived also down the road from us, although I didn’t visit her because I didn’t have permission.   My mother had another boyfriend who moved in with us which made it more difficult for my brother as he was no longer man of the house. My mother slapped me for not calling her boyfriend “father” saying he was more of a father than “….”  was… I think this was also about  the time I heard my father had adopted his wife’s children… so now there were 13 of us.  It was a tough time to be in the middle and not be swayed to go either side, but to stay to my sense of justice.  This.. and my mother’s boyfriend was very drunk one evening and came into my bedroom and made a pass at me.. telling me how my mother was a nymphomaniac, etc. and I became increasingly anxious of his behavior and what would happen if he would force himself upon me. While my brothers would most likely vouch for me, I didn’t wish to deal with the ugliness of the situation, everything already was so ugly and non-life giving. There was too much inside that I had already held, just as I knew my mother had, but I knew my fortitude was wearing thin.

Right after Christmas and early January, I was eighteen (in November)  and left home.  My brother had told me earlier that our mother would never allow me to drive ( I’m sure it was because she thought I would leave) and I worried over how I would even be able to go to college? When my mother came home one night and I asked whether she had bought any food, she went into a tirade over how much everything cost, how much the corral her boyfriend was going to build had cost, and started hitting me with a broom.  When she left, I left and went down the road to the elderly couple, and asked if I could live with them, after telling them what happened, they agreed.  I did go into the bar where my mother was, told her that I had left and not coming back, she told me to be at home when she got there.  I knew I wouldn’t be.  A new chapter had already begun.