Surviving The Teen Years

As if being a teenager isn't horrible enough, throw a divorce, a couple of evictions, moving homes numerous times, busing and a change of schools 3 times into the mix and see how your kid turns out!

In 1969, after Dad moved out of the house, everyone started to re-adjust to the household and school routine and we found a new kind of normalcy.  It was early 9th grade for me and I'd just come off a two-year low-point teenager stint.  Let me explain.

Integration started in Arlington County at Stratford Junior High in 1959 when four black students were integrated in to the all white Stratford.  At the time I was four and by 1963 there were still two Arlingtons, the well-to-do, predominantly white North Arlington and the less prosperous, racially mixed South Arlington. There were few students of color in my North Arlington elementary school, in fact, I can't think of one.  The Arlington Public Schools were slowly being segregated and, as I told you in an earlier blog I left my elementary school, which was called Henry Clay, after 6th grade in 1967.  Some kids from my school, including me, were bussed to south Arlington to go to 7th grade at Hoffman Boston Junior High.  Hoffman-Boston was a run down school which relied on discarded books from the white schools. At one time this was the only option for black students in Arlington, who had to attend "colored" schools. It was a pretty scary environment for a very young and naive "white girl" from north Arlington.

I'm not a racist, never have been and never will be.  I believe in the family of mankind.  The community we were bussed to was not welcoming....can you blame them?  I was scared everyday I went to school.  I witnessed people getting beat up regularly; money being taken off kids who brought lunch money to school; personal belongings being stolen right off a person; scared teachers who were helpless to defend us and themselves; and molestation all the time.  I had a class in the basement of the school where you had to go down this back staircase to get to the classroom and everyday this same group of black kids were waiting there for me and everyday they would touch me in some offensive manner.  I don't blame them or hold them a grudge...I feel differently about the school district and their parents however.  These kids were reacting to the situation.

Sounds fun huh?  My mediocre grades dropped off.  I found it difficult to concentrate and I was terribly unhappy.  All those kids I had been to school with since kindergarten had been divided up and sent to different schools.  Some of my old friends went with me and some didn't. I just remember it as a very lonely time.  I felt like a little girl going to school with strangers and kids who were much bigger and older than me.  Some of the guys I saw at Hoffman Boston had whiskers for God sakes and the girls had breasts and their periods!  Believe it or not, I wouldn't get my period until 10th grade!  But that's a story for another time.

So that was 7th grade.  In 8th grade we went to a different school in south Arlington called Thomas Jefferson Junior High School....a former "all white" Junior High.  I would be there for 8th and 9th grade. Things improved a bit when I went there.  It was more "normal" (whatever that was) and the black/white integration was a little more balanced at TJ though the school was not without racial conflict.  I saw some pretty beaten up white boys at TJ with broken noses, broken bones and stitches.  Lots of black eyes and bruises.

At home our new schedule with Dad was that Shirley and I, being under the age of 18, could have dinner with him one night a week and see him on the weekend on a Saturday or Sunday.  Dad moved into an apartment in Old Town Alexandria about 10-15 minutes away. It was a very small studio or one bedroom apartment I don't really remember.  The apartment had a tiny kitchen and bath.  It wasn't too long after my parents split that my mother invited my sister to move in with "her Dad" too.  I believe there was a discussion over a slightly missed curfew on Sandy's part and so she got "the boot".  So with Sandy on a cot, Sandy and Dad had taken up new digs in Old Town.  I missed Sandy.  She and I were very close and taking her away was just another blow to my fragile state of mind.

There wasn't a lot of love around the Barton Street house for Dad.  Mom, Ma and Sis were all there and on one side, Mom's side of course.  I tried to stay neutral and "out of it" and just go about my own business but sometimes it was hard to hear the "comments".  I defended the ole "how can you still like your Dad when he left you" comments with, "he didn't leave me" which always pissed someone off!  The previous comment from my Grandmother was the first time I was ever really hurt by her and mad at her.

Front row, Shirley, me and Mom; Cousin Susan and Sandy in rear.

Anyway, in 9th grade I looked to improve my school "situation" and made the very bold (for me) decision to try out for cheer leading.  What the heck, they can only turn me down right?  What else could go wrong?  So I stayed after school for a week or so learning and practicing the routines required to "try out" for cheer.  I know I told my mom what I was doing because I had to catch the late bus home but there wasn't much interest in what I was doing as an individual as long as I didn't interfere with the daily routine. Our household was based on "the whole" of the family like, what to eat for dinner and what time to go to bed not how school life was or how my grades were.  Anyway, after two days of try outs we were down to about 12 girls and they usually cut down to 10 total.  I was still in it!  As we all sat anxiously awaiting our fate the cheer teacher and Principal got up before us and said that they couldn't make a decision on who to cut so they had decided to keep us all!!!! 

Oh the joy!  The elation! I felt like I gained instant status!  I went from a nobody to a somebody overnight! Might be silly but that's how I felt.  Becoming a part of the cheer squad made me feel a sense of accomplishment like I had never felt before and helped to restore some of my sagging self confidence.  And above all else, this was something I had chosen for myself....something I went after and something I alone had achieved.

Why are my eyes always closed in pictures?

I had a blast cheering for TJ.  Loved the outfits, loved the little bit of "prestige" that came with being a cheerleader, and loved that I felt better about myself.  My grades improved, they had to to stay on the squad and there was an added side benefit, guys started to look at me differently and ask me out!  Aha!

Throughout this exciting time in my life disappointingly not once while I cheered for football, basketball and wrestling did my parents ever come and watch me.

Also during this weird time I'd just as soon forget as get through, there appeared in the top of my closet an interesting box.  A blue box with a picture of a girl taking a bubble bath on the front of it.  Hmmmmm, what's this?  Ok, the Kotex boxes of the 60's were just downright weird.  Apparently, soon I'm going to put my hair up in a foofy little hairdo and take bubble baths in claw foot tubs!  We didn't own a claw foot tub.  I'm going to go ice skating with a huge smile on my face dressed all in white!  I'm going to dive into a swimming pool looking all shapely and lovely even though I don't know how to dive!  WHAT?  What is this?  So I went to my surrogate-mom, Sandy, to ask what this was all about.  Thank God for Sandy.  I could always get a clear-cut and direct answer outta her.  She explained how I would be getting my period soon and all the complicated how to's of using pads and how a baby is made, etc. I never asked my Mom a thing and she never volunteered any information except to, leprechaun like, place the box on the top shelf of my closet.  I imagine there's lot's of other girls out there that had the same kind of shy, avoid-the-talk-at-all-costs, non-informative kind of mother too eh?

9th grade promotion.  In the front yard of Barton Street.  Note closed eyes!

10th grade rolled around in late 1970 and I, again, changed schools.  This time to Washington-Lee High School in North Arlington where I would complete 10th, 11th and 12th grade.  Once again a lot of my good friends, including the boy I had chased most of 8th and 9th grade,  were divided by high schools.  He went to Wakefield.  By the time I hit tenth grade I lost interest in school.  All this changing around was difficult and I didn't feel like starting over again.  All three of us girls had quit skating because we couldn't afford it and it was just too hard for Mom to manage the skating schedule. Classes in 10th grade were much harder and I had developed an interest in other things such as, boys (who went to the other high school) and marijuana.  My new friends in high school enjoyed the herb as much as I was beginning to after all it was the "dawning of the Age of Aquarius!"  Now I'm not proud of this but at the time it was exactly the pain reliever and distraction I needed.

Things were okay with Mom and I.  It was Mom, Shirley, Ma, Sis and I in the big Barton Street house.  It was a stressful time for Mom for sure with a big home to maintain and an even bigger garden to care for and lawn to mow.  Mom started a daycare business out of our home to help out monetarily.  I confess I didn't much care for the daycare children mostly because I was jealous of the attention they got from my mother.  She was being paid to take care of and pay attention to them but I didn't care, I didn't like them hanging around.  I tired of the conversation around the dinner table about how cute and good these children were.  I didn't like it when I came in from school and was asked to help out with these kids....change their diapers and such - ugh!  I didn't have to do it a lot but I didn't like being asked.  After all, I was a sullen teenage and I wanted attention!  You can't expect much from an attention-deprived sullen teenager!  Mom still helped with sewing and finger work after dinner and continued to be unavailable.  Life was dull there without Sandy and my older brother.  I didn't drive yet and I wasn't allowed to go to other peoples houses or have friends over and Shirley was 4 years younger.  A mere child!  I was bored and looking for any distraction.

A daycare child!  I think her name was Beth.  Don't I look enthusiastic?

After the mandatory Virginia State 2-year separation law between the parentals, my parents divorced and Dad immediately re-married.  Throughout these few years since my parents separated and then divorced, my father had been dating a woman by the name of Betty.  Believe it or not her last name was conveniently already Johnson!  They had both worked for Arlington County Government.  Apparently there had been an attraction between them while Dad was still living with us at the Barton Street house.  After some time and on one of the weekend days that we shared with Dad, Shirley and I were introduced to Betty.  The four of us went to the Peter Pan Inn, just south(?) of Frederick, Maryland for a late lunch early dinner.  I don't recall a lot about that dining experience except it was a family style restaurant (we didn't go out to many restaurants) and that I liked Betty.  She was very quiet but asked thoughtful questions.  She was probably more nervous about meeting us than we were to meet her.  And I was nervous to meet her.

At the time of our Peter Pan repast, Dad and Betty were not married but pretty much living together.  When they did marry, I was not allowed to go to the wedding but Sandy, being older, was allowed to go.  I remember being pissed that Mom would not allow me to go.  Mom was very angry at my father and would never speak kindly about him and certainly NEVER acknowledge Betty in any way.  Betty was a scorned woman and Mother was heartbroken over the loss of her marriage.  In many ways, she still is.  Anyway when Dad married Betty us kids inherited 3 step-siblings....Robert, MaryAnne and David.

During my 11th grade year, 1971-72, my mother decided to go to Florida to visit her brother Bub for a week or so.  When she returned she was so enamored of Florida that she told me she had decided to move there!  What?  For God sakes!  I was not happy about the prospect of moving to Florida and told her I didn't want to move.  I explained that I was in my 11th grade year of school and wanted to complete high school with my friends.  Changing schools again was simply out of the question for me.  Mom said, and I am quoting verbatim here, "If that's the way you feel, get out by the weekend."  Okay, now what?  I instantly became a "wreck".

I called my Dad and told him I needed to see him immediately.  After work he came with Betty and picked me up from the house and we went out to grab a bite to eat.  I had no sooner closed the back car door when I blurted out what had happened between Mom and I.  Without missing a beat Betty said I was not to worry that they would help me move in with them this weekend and that everything would be okay.  I literally sat back and breathed for the first time since the encounter with my Mother.  Betty had alleviated all my fears in one sentence.  So that next Saturday morning, Dad showed up and helped me load my personal effects and my make-up table into his car and drove me to my new home.  A tiny two bedroom apartment in Falls Church, Virginia.  When I walked into my new bedroom Betty had a pink robe and slippers laid out on the bed for me.  They had installed a phone in my room and purchased a small TV also.  With my clothes hung in the closet I was all set.

I was quite happy there actually.  We were compatible Dad, Betty and I.  We had breakfast together every morning and then piled in the car to go to Washington-Lee High School first and then they drove on to the Courthouse Building where they both worked.  Dad would give me a kiss out the door of the car and press enough money in my hand to purchase a lunch....the first time I had ever purchased lunches from school!  Everything just worked out.

It wasn't long though before the three of us moved to a building closer to school called Lorcom Towers on Old Dominion Highway.  There were probably 10 floors in Lorcom and we lived on the 9th floor.  It felt like a Penthouse!  Expansive with my own nice big bedroom and bath; a very large living room, separate dining room and decent size kitchen.  Sandy moved in with us for a while too and we shared a bedroom just like old times. This is where I started to feel like an adult.  Nobody had their thumb on me.  I could go out on dates, meet-up with friends and have friends over.  Dad taught me to drive and, after I got my driver's license, he let me drive his car - a dark blue Delta 88!  My friends and I called it the nightclub because it had the best stereo system ever!  Led Zeppelin, The Who, Elton....they all just sounded wonderful in Dad's Delta 88!  I just had to try to remember to turn the volume back down after I used the car!

I lived with Betty and Dad for about half of my 11th grade year until a developed a very serious bout of Mononucleosis.  I was very, very ill.  I couldn't go to school - couldn't get out of bed actually and weighed under 100 pounds.  I called my Mom to ask her to get me in to see the doctor.  She sent my brother over to pick me up and take me to Dr. White's office where they drew blood and determined that I was a very sick girl indeed.  Once back at Dad and Betty's it was decided that I would need round the clock care for a while and mega-doses of vitamins to try to restore my health, therefore I moved back into the Barton Street house.

I confess that there is no one like your Mom when it comes to being sick and taken care of so in one sense I was happy to be back.  On the other hand, I liked being treated like a grown up and worried that it might be a tough transition back into the old house.  I missed a lot of school but managed to regain my health and get back to classes but I ended up having to take summer school that year because I had failed my history class and only eked by in English and math.  I was lucky to have only failed one class.

Life at Barton Street improved.  I think Mom got that I was more grown up and needed my independence.  She somehow scraped together some money and bought me my first car - a 1961 white Volkswagen Beetle.  Only thing is, it didn't have a starter.  No problem!  Our home on Barton street was on a slight hill and I could "pop the clutch" and get it started!  Behind the school there was a slight hill so, as long as I got to the school ahead of everyone else I could easily find the perfect parking space which would allow me to slightly roll enough to "pop the clutch" and be on my way!  I was one of the first kids of my friends to have a car so everyone was more than willing to give me a little push to get the thing going if a hill wasn't available and if there was a party I wanted to arrive at alone...well, I could only go if there was a hill available!  Haha.  I loved that car!

A sad thing happened though the summer between my junior and senior year.  My mom had had enough of maintaining the big house and put the Barton Street house on the market.  It sold pretty quick and that summer we moved out of the house I grew up in and just Shirley, Mom and I moved into a ground level apartment in a low-rise apartment building in Alexandria.  Instead of switching schools again and with some of the proceed money from the sale of the house, Mom bought me a brand new 1973 yellow Volkswagen Beetle....the first year of the curved windshield, so I could get to W-L in Arlington.  It was a bit of a commute since we were now in Alexandria and I would need to drive to school with people driving to work.  But it worked out okay and only a few times was I late.  I confessed to my homeroom teacher my situation and he forgave any tardiness on my behalf.

So I completed my senior year.  I wasn't a stellar student but I had good friends, a boyfriend that I leaned on (his family had been through divorce and relocation too) and a complicated and somewhat divided family who I knew loved me.  The troublesome teen years faded into the past and the now mature 18 year old found her footing, a job and prepared to attend community college.  I moved with Mom and Shirley one more time about a year later and then pretty much moved out for good before I was 21.

The BF, Rob, just before going to Senior Prom.

The teen years can seem torturous while you are living them and can leave a lasting noise in your head.  It's how you survive them and what you take from those years that makes you the adult you are today.  For me, I know that if there's something I want I just have to go get it; you can't blame people for circumstances under which they were raised; that no matter how bad things seem they usually work out okay as long as you hang in there; and mostly that broken things mend.  Most especially people and relationships.

AND it doesn't matter where you live as long as you have loved ones around you, you'll always be home.