Captain's Log #18 - 1 Corinthians 13:13 - the greatest of these is love
10/1/17
A quick story: Lance’s Room
When I turned 16 my mother gave me the keys to her brand
new, burgundy-glitter, 1965 Ford Mustang. It was stunning! With the keys she
said, “If you get pulled over by the police in the middle of the night, don’t
call me until the morning.” That was humbling. Needless to say, I was popular
among my friends. As I recall she never asked where I was going, and there
wasn’t a curfew. Now that I think about it, I became a master of ‘the white
lie,’ I never (or rarely) lied outright but neither did I tell the whole truth
as in “Beth and I dropped acid last night and went to the beach. Driving home
was hard, the road writhed and undulated like a snake.” I’m lucky I didn’t end
up dead in a ditch, a couple of times. Well, I did end up in a ditch one night,
that was the same night I drove on a golf course (what was I thinking?!)
I dated a cute boy a year younger than me, Dave Sherry, we
hung out with his friends. They had met at Robert Louis Stevenson, an exclusive
private high school in Del Monte Forest (originally part of a resort complex
built by Charles Crocker, one of the California's Big Four railroad barons…
also the home of Pebble Beach.) These were smart boys and I was lucky to hang
with. There was Dave, and Chuck Bramlet, known as Duck, and Mike. Those three
were musicians. And Don Steiny, known as Steiny (his mother hated that we
called him that) and occasionally Lance. We smoked dope together frequently at
Dennis the Menace Park near Lake El Estero in Monterey.
Lance lived with his folks in Del Monte Forest. His room was
the lower level of the house, a very dark, den-like hovel illuminated by black
light and lots of neon beer signs: a Corona parrot, Miller, Pabst, Blue Ribbon,
Budweiser. My favorite was the Hamm’s one with its shimmering blue stream,
mesmerizing.
Dave and Chuck were cartoonists and composed volumes of
panels describing their adventures, real and imaginary. Dave was drawn as a
turtle, Chuck a duck, I showed up as a chipmunk.
One night, before I met them, they had gotten stoned, and
using black light reactive fluorescent paint, drew cartoons all over the walls
and fixtures of Lance’s tiny bathroom including inside the toilet. It was a bit
visually overwhelming.
Apparently Lance never cleaned his toilet and if you cared
to look closely there were long green strands of moss gracefully waving inside
the bowl amid the bright pink and blue paint.
I look back on those times very fondly. They were filled
with friendship, acceptance, humor and sharing but, as in 1 Corinthians 13:11,
we put aside our childish ways. I graduated from high school early and hung out
with adults (for some reason that was appealing.) Dave had an epiphany and
joined a small evangelical church, the kind where people speak in tongues. He
married a stunningly beautiful girl with long blond hair. I dated, and later
lived with, a bicycle racer but that’s another story. To go back to 1st
Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the
greatest of these is love. Amen to that.
In other news, I have a job interview on the 11th
at the Napa State Hospital for a Staff Services Analyst position in their
Medical Staff Office. Who knows if it’s a real opening. In my department they
have identified a woman they want to promote but they have to go through the
exercise of advertising and interviewing just for show. But I will go through
the process of preparing (and ‘shave my legs’ – that’s a metaphor code to women
who know how much trouble that is.) At this point, applying and interviewing
for jobs is just another hobby.
Work is going fine. I seem to be treated like one of the
group now, which surprises me, I’m still the same, it’s just their attitude
that’s changed. The whole facility is shutting down and clients are being
placed in the community. Experienced staff are quitting and inexperienced
people are taking their place which is causing quite a bit of consternation
among the old timers in my office. There’s a point, folks, when you’ve got to
relax your standards and actually help your co-workers (instead of engaging in
power struggles to get your way), it’s called “customer service.” These are new
times and you’ve got to ‘roll with the punches’ (from boxing: move one's body
away from an opponent's blows to lessen the impact.)
I’m tapering off the Kimono jag (I have 16 in my closet.) It
looks like my imagination has been hijacked by Hula costumes. I went to a
public ukulele play-in yesterday. 60-some-odd people (some were odd) and in
that age range, more than half of them playing ukuleles and singing. There was
some dancing too. But the dresses! I’ve had two Hula dance lessons and already
I can’t wait to begin another sewing project (with Hawaiian style applique and
full gores at the hem, oooo!) J
Thanks for hanging in there with me. I’d love to know what
you’re up to.
Until next time, many blessings,
Karla, k.j. and mom
P.S. Let me know if you’d like to be removed from the
distribution list.
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