Family Stories - Places I Have Lived, Part 3

Family Stories

Places I have Lived, Part 3

   I ended last week with me living in the UN with Hattie, Roya, and Henry.  We were all community college students, all working.  Life was good.  So, of course, things had to change...

   One day I came home and Hattie and Roya were seriously talking with a mutual friend of theirs.  This mutual friend had come over to ask if we could take in another young woman, who very desperately needed to get out of her family home.

   Betty really did need the help, so we grudgingly agreed.  In helping Betty move I did briefly meet her family.  Just wow!  She was the older of two children.  Her brother was frankly a twisted bully.  Not safe for anyone to be around.  Her parents were gambling addicts.  Her childhood was so twisted by her parent's addiction that she had holes in her memories-who sections of time she could not remember.  What she could, was mostly race tracks, poker parlors, and trips to Las Vegas.  And to make things more interesting, Betty's family was Jewish.  Roya was Persian/Russian.  Roya agreed to behave as long as Betty played down her ethnicity.  If any Zionist stuff came up, Betty was probably out of there.

   Mostly it worked out.  I think of all of us, I had the best relationship with Betty.  In fact, we're still in touch via Christmas cards.  But it was a rocky road.  Betty had to sleep on the convertible sofa in the front room, which made late night entertaining tricky for the rest of us.  Her personal habits, not the best either.  

   My classic Betty story:  Betty was a heavy sleeper, so she would set her alarm (aka the world's loudest alarm clock) to go off about an hour before she was due to get up.  Her habit from home was to hit the snooze many times and eventually get up.  Now that alarm clock woke the other 4 of us (and probably several apartments on either side of us) up every time.  Usually after the second time I could hear Roya and Henry mumbling and Hattie was trying to shove her pillow over her ears.  I knew I would be gentler than Roya, so I would get up and wake Betty up.  I would explain to her that if that alarm went off again it was going out the door (and over the balcony the the first floor below) and she would follow soon after.  I am not a morning person.  Betty would insist that the next time it went off she would get up.  Somehow she always did.

   My troubles were not over.  Betty would get up and the first thing she would do would be to turn on the tea kettle for her coffee-on the highest setting, and then go into the bathroom (which Hattie and I shared with her).  Now the stove shared a wall with my bedroom.  And of course, the tea kettle would start screaming with Betty still in the bathroom.  Hattie would be still pretending to sleep.  So I'd stumble out the kitchen and turn off the kettle.  After pounding on the bathroom door and yelling at Betty I'd go back to bed.  Just about the time I'd be drifting back to sleep, you guessed it, my own alarm would go off.

   As I'd reach the bathroom, Betty would come cheerfully out (cheerful being an early morning sin in my book).  In the bathroom I would discover a thick layer of make-up and stuff in the sink.  One of my least favorite morning sights.  Betty would always clean it up before she left for the day, but still.  Grumpily, I would finally make it to the kitchen area.  Betty would be just leaving.  And, of course, her spot would have large coffee spills.  It's a wonder I didn't kill her.  After about 2 weeks or so Betty finally realized that not only her living space, but her very existence was threatened, began to improve.  She and Roya never did become close friends, but we could all co-exist.  Since Betty couldn't cook either, we now had two nights a week of take out, unless someone else (sometimes me) would have mercy and help.

   Betty only lasted with us a few months.  Eventually she found a place of her own  One night, when she was entertaining a gentleman (she had discovered sex) the infamous clock decided to die.  In the middle of festivities, it went off and wouldn't stop.  Betty's gentleman friend threw it out the window where the clock shattered into many, man pieces on the parking lot pavement.  I only wish I could have been a fly on the wall.

  We did deal with some real mental issues in the UN.  One afternoon we were sitting at a local park, pretending to study when Betty asked what the little dell we were sitting in was called.  She didn't know what a mountain, a valley, or anything like that was called.  Holes.  I don't want the think about the trauma that caused those holes.  The good thing was that once Betty realized she had a gap in common knowledge she worked hard to fix it.  Hattie scared us as well.  I stated last week that Hattie needed to have a boyfriend.  After Roya's uncle dumped her she was mostly ok, but sometimes she would get into this frantic mental state - because she didn't have a boyfriend.  No idea why.

There are more UN stories, but I'll close with the story of my one 70's protest rally. While I have strong political beliefs, I'm not usually an activist.  The Vietnam War was a good example.  While I hated the war and what it was doing to our country, I had a brother who was a career Marine who served several tours of duty over there (including 2 purple hearts).  For his sake, I would not be public about my opinions.  Especially if he was overseas.

    But this one night...  I think finals had just ended for me and that mutual friend came over inviting all of us to an Anti Vietnam War rally in Hollywood.  Jane Fonda was speaking.  Betty decided to go and I was in a "what the hell" mood, so I went.  It was beyond surreal.  before we could enter the building we were searched.  In my case that meant being patted down by a lesbian.  My mental response was, "Sorry, not interested.  Now would you please get your hands off me."  The evening could only get better.

   I will admit I was not entirely sober that night.  Probably a good thing.  I remember a lot of anti US blah blah, which I did not appreciate.  A lot of illogical stuff.  A history lesson about North and South Vietnam (mostly correct).  But the absolute topper was when Jane Fonda spoke.  It turned out that it was Ho Chi Min's birthday, a holiday in the North.  So she had us all stand up to sing "happy birthday" to him.  I hope she knew that he was already dead.

   That was my only anti-war rally.  Done.