inhercat's ponderings

Happy Halloween

It's been close to ten years, since i even considered writing. Why? because, not a one of you deserve to have a view of my truth.

I am not a tail coat rider. I am not a person who only gets by with the help of friends.

I am a survivor of life itself.

I was born the day before the rest of the world celebrates the birth of the christ child. That's an insane time of year to be born. The world knows me not. The family I was born into, knows that i live in a fantasy world, because they fabricated it for me.

I was the youngest, and second girl in a family of five. I am an observer. If it's possible to learn by osmosis, well i did. I was born with Asthma. Life continues to try to take my breath away, almost 59 years later.

In order to talk about me, i might have to mention the siblings and other relatives, disclaimer, should you have sensitivties to airing a families dirty laundry in public, i suggest you find another story. This is MY story.

I was fortunate in many ways. I grew up in a family of five, surronded by people. Lost in the crowd. Catholic American of Mexican Descent. According to the world around me, the M-word is a strike against me, being a girl strike 2....having a hidden disability strike 3, and an almost abnormal attraction to the same sex, sssshhhhh that part is a super sin and i shouldn't admit to my feelings.

Spent the first few years of my life in east los angeles, just to move to City Terrace, where my world became a dizzying dance of learning to navigate a semi public life. Not as the main character, but as the child of a politician. My older siblings, were better equipped for this, mostly due to there maturity.

I am the runt, the leaky, sneezy, wheezy, teary eyed girl who was bullied. I smelled of ointment and carried tissue in my sleeves. I was the youngest kid in the class, by a year. They let me in, according to my mother, because i was gifted. It could be true. I can still remember the smell of crayons and Mrs. Hurtado's red hair and freckled face. Elementry school, should be the most formitive years, for me they were filled with wonderment and fear. Fear of being pushed and teased by children around me, While being coddled by the teachers, i realize now...because of my father's position. Also, i'm a pretty sensitive child, due to the fact that for the first years of my life i was not getting a whole lot of air, or much sleep. Our house was less than a mile from the school. One of the things i remember about going to school, is the the lockdowns. Yes, you read correctly. On the hill behind my elementary school was the womens correctional facility. And the fireman's training station, you could here them singing(doing cadence songs) while we were in class trying to learn. Whenever they had to transport inmates, or if one escaped we had to go into the classrooms, while they locked all the gates, windows and doors to the classrooms. Weird right. Proably not. But it's how I felt. School was exciting to me. Between my asthma, and participating with all it entails for a politician to stay in office, i missed a lot of school. Weekends spent, in parades, at every organizations event, trying to keep his name alive. One of the other things, and remember i was just a kid, but my birthday fell during christmas vacation. So all school year, invitations would be passed out and i would attened classmates parties, it was easy, they just handed the invitations out at school on thursday or friday, and everyone went to the party that weekend. My parents would have to get the addresses of the kids so I could send them invitations, and since it was a holiday, well not very many kids showed up, good thing i had lots of cousins.

By the time I was in the fifth grade, a girl who shared the same name as my sister, wanted to beat me up. I think because I looked at her wrong. But, others say she was jealous of me, because I never got into trouble at school. I don't think she had a clue about what I was going through. I guess I remember her for two reasons, obviously her name, and because I had befriended her older sister, who worked in the lunchroom. They both stick in my mind because of how different they were from eachother. One was blonde and nice to me, the other was darker haired and not nice to me. The significance of that last sentence is not lost on me. Rather than my finishing my last year and graduating with the rest of the neighborhood kids. I was transfered to another school, Robert Hill Lane Elementary.

Until I arrived at that school, i truley thought i was doing okay, academically. not so well socially or emotionally. I never really talked about it. Or perhaps I talked too much about my struggles, or shared too much of my families success and that is why i was sent to a different school. I doubt I'll ever really know for sure.

I was now the new kid in school. Mrs. Sasaki, the sixth grade teacher. This school was super cool. The first thing that was differnent was the free flow of the classrooms, and that it didn't have a cafeteria. Man, i swear just one more thing to set me apart from the other kids. It was an election year, pretty sure. I remember this because, my mom use to bring me special hot lunches. No really it was a big deal. Very few parents,did that for their kids. So when my mom, would stop by with KFC, or McDonald's i would be teased. There was very little end to just how much teasing i took, because of our privelge. Afterschool, when most kids are at home having milk and cookies, yes i had that too, but it was also about doing homework in the car, at the campaign headquarters or while waitnng in doctors offices. I was always losing stuff. always having to redo my work at the last minute. The other very cool thing about this school, was the fact that it was across from East Los Angeles Community College. As a class we were able to study the live sciences, art and dance classes at the college as a part of our curriculum. Graduation Day came, and as was not unusual, my father and my eldest brother, were unable to attend this ceremony. I remember, to this day what that was like. My hair was pinned up with curls, and baby breath flowers, I was wearing a long white cotton eyelet dress, the ribbon going through it had pink roses, the edges were a light green. (almost positive of this). We were in the auditorium singing our class song, when a secretary from the office came in, than Mrs. Zekas, stepped over and called me away from the ceremony. I was escorted to her office to speak to my father, who was in a closed session, because the govenor (Pat Brown) and the rest of the legeslature couldn't agree on the budget, and he refused to let them recess until they came to terms.

I'm leaving out a whole lot between Kindergarden and Junior high School. Like the night my father won his election for Assemblyman. The day we all got on an airplane for the first time as a family heading to the state capital. About the fact that my father was making history. About how my grandmother in her proudest moment of watching my father being inauguarated, and leaning over to my oldest brother and asking, "so when are you going to make me a great grandmother." About the first time in a hotel pool at seven years of age, some stranger placed his hand in my bathing suit well i was swimming. About, how i always felt alone. About how cool it was to ride in parades, how fun it was to have the Sargent of Arms pick me up in a car so i could ride from the hotel to the capitol. About how much fun it was to see the world in such a privelaged way. What it was like to sit in chambers as a young child, and see your fathers name. About the smell of the building. The echo of the halls. and the beauty of the gardens surronding the capital. Feeding squirrels in the park. Learning about the government from a birds-eye view. About remmebering on the night Robert F. Kennedy was shot at the Ambassodor hotel, family members were there, I was in the hotel. I was told by a now deceased relative, that i am lying. That we were at our campaign headquarters that night, which doesn't make sense to me, because I remember the smell of adrenealene from that night.

Junior High School, an experiment in regards to desegragtion. From 1973-1976 I was bussed from City Terrace, to Tarzana, to attend Gasper de Portola Junior High School. Talk about culture shock. My first day of catching the bus was rough, it was a Photo Op for the local politicians, my father included. And the first time I would be attending school in a neighborhood that i had only read about briefly in newspapers or seen on television. The bus arrived at 6:30 in the morning, we were the second stop on the way to school. If I close my eyes, and think real hard, i can remember every stop, and how many and who got on at each stop. Why, cause if you missed the buss, you had an oportunity to beat it to the next stop, and not miss school, and the kids at the next stop always teased. And on the way home the route was done in reverse. And the driver (and I remember thier names) always made a fuss. It was hard making friends with the kids at my bus stop, most of them had gone to City Terrace, Hazard or Kennedy Elementary Schools. So imagine my delight at having to spend an hour and forty five minutes give or take depending on traffic, on a bus with people I already knew didn't like me or my family! And the one or two that did, I felt they were trying to distance themselves from me, just so they wouldn't get picked on. Yeah, I know seems like a stretch, to say I might know what others were thinking or feeling. I realize preadolesence is hell itself, but trust me, i now when i am being avoided. Between siblings and family and friends, being ignored is something I got use to at a very early age.

Now certainly, my siblings and other close relatives might see it differently. That is thier perogative. By 1973 my siblings had already been out of High School and were living, independent adult lives. Yes, we went places together, movies, museums, sprorting events, concerts, plays. Those were special moments that i hold dear in my heart. The first day of school was really interesting. My parents met the bus at the school. As a seventh grader, we were assigned a ninth grader to show us the school. First thing locker assignments. It was pretty cool, my locker was next to the son of Andy Russel. I can still remember it, in fact I just shared the entirity of it with my husband(phil). Julia G. was the girl who showed us the campus. She was shorter than myself with sandy blonde curly hair and just nice. But, we didn't remain friends, as I was a freshman

It was during my time at Portola that I started declinging emotionally. Our school had undercover cops, duh, but we also had one who rode the bus. I don't really remember him from the first year, but he was definetly there the following two. He always sat in the back, with dark glasses, wore stripped pants and chewed gum like it was going out of style. No one ever wanted to sit at the back of the bus once he started riding. I ended up having to sit next to the man who smelled of gum and piss for at least a year. What no one knew about this man is that during the school hours, if he saw me out of class, he would have me walk with him. Eventually, we would end up sitting on the wall behind the english building, there was an access road and a fence and brick short walls. UHM.....he use to french kiss me and feel me up. I never told anyone that. But, after a few months. I finally told my mother that if i didn't get to see someone for help that i was going to kill myself. And that my dear family and friends, is why I acted out, against the authorites around me. Why I tried to scratch my skin off of all parts of my body. It wasn't just the asthma, allergies or teenage angst.

At this moment, I thank my parents for trying to get me help. But. Catholic Mexicans, believe these things should be taken to a priest and only talked about in confession. AND never to be talked about to a professional. So the fact that, i was already seeing a doctor for my asthma, and he happend to also be a psychiatrist, they sent me to see my Doctor. I started seeing him weekly. so basically i was in his office a couple times a week, one for my head, one for allergy shots. He was helpful, for the most part I trusted him. I'm not sure if I ever told him what happened, but he was pretty smart and i'm sure he figured it out. Basiclly, I checked in with him, talked for about ten minutes, and than he would let me just be ALONE, in his office. It was a unique relationship, in later years, i was always worried that he was telling my parents what we discussed. Sorry Dr. H. Marshak, i know you wouldn't and i hope you never suffered because of it. I owe what sanity and little self esteem i had at the time, to God, you and the spirits of my deceased grandparents. yup i talked to dead people, ever since i can remember. i digress. I couldn't keep it together in junior high, my grades started to slip, and i had a few close encounters of the verbal kind with teachers. My history teacher, My P.E. teacher and my ninth grade english teacher. I was right, a bit arrogant for a snot nosed brat. She was right as well. Sorry, at the time i swore under my breath, and she called me out for taking the LORDS name in vain or blasphemy. Pretty sure I said something like, "OH GOD!" She took it out of context, i argued that she as a teacher did not have the authority to accuse me of blasphemy. I was wrong. Off i went to see my favorite counselor, who by now was probably growing weary of me. They had to rearrange my class cause she refused to let me back in unless i apologized, and well. It worked out for the best, my next teacher was way more interesting, and i was never bored in her class, she challenged the class, and encouraged us to be freethinkers, to have an opinion of what we were reading. It may be a little late, but sorry miss hill. Thanks mrs. calvin.

My ninth grade english teacher. I owe her my desire to continue to write. My desire to be entertained and challenged by the english language and how it pertains to our freeedom and the laws of this country. She was the first teacher to talk to me straight. She introduced me to Ray Bradbury as we read the Illustrated Man. Science Fiction, something i didn't really like at the time, i remember how much she enjoyed his work. She helped me to think creatively, to challenge myself. She was the first teacher to tell me she didn't care about my father's career, and that she checked my I.Q. score and was extremely disapointed in how i was not giving school a chance. Again, noone knew i was being molested, so they were approaching me as a spoiled kid. The fact that the school was filled with children who were in the entertainment business, or whose families were and that i was so lucky to be there, blah blah blah. I just got an image of the teacher in Peanuts. After graduating from that school in 1976, during my sophmore year at my new high school, a four year school, so tenth grade, i went to see a play of The Martian Chronicles and meet the Author. I still own the Poster that he signed, though the signature has faded. I went home that night and wrote a letter to my former teacher. Thanking her for my ninth grade introduction to Ray Bradbury.

During this time period, I had falling in what would now be considered puppy love. With the son of a friend of the family, he was a year or two older than I was, one of his sister's was my age,and was well aware of my crush. He liked me too. The problem was that everytime he had a spare moment, I couldn't see him, because my father was home, and I was not suppose to be talking to any boys. It made me crazy, that and my friends who met him, thought he was ugly. I thought he was the most handsome boy in the world. To this day I cans still remember our first kiss, we were babysitting his younger siblings, sitting in the den watching t.v., i came home and ran next door to the neighbors house, to ask her, "how do i hide a hickey?" she laughed, and suggested I put a spoon in the freezer and that the hicky would go away. It' didn't. But than the boy i loved, called one day, and i said sorry, i can't see you, I have to stay home with my dad. See a pattern here. From what I remember he called someone else, and she got pregnant. I had to go to his wedding. I was never the same again. I remember him wearing an army uniform, I don't ever remember seeing him again. But I saw his family. Everytime I entered their home i was crushed. I had to be happy, I had to smile, i had to laugh. I can still taste and smell his mothers tamales, she made the HOTTEST and also the sweetest tamales, pine nuts and raisins. pretty sure. The neighbor who I ran to, moved away. But, as they were friends of my brothers and i babysat for them, I kept in touch. One day while I was babysitting, one of the guys from the car group, came over and well, It ws the first time i had intercourse, I didn't even know for sure that was what happened. I do remember coming home and finding my underwear filled with blood and a white fluid, i was probably 14 maybe 15. In my mind, it was my first love, coming to say goodbye I don't really know for sure. Cause he and this other person looked a bit alike. my heart aches. I have been numb ever since. And as the song goes i was looking for him for the rest of my life.

After leaving Portola, I was hoping to be bussed to Taft High School in Woodland Hills. They stopped busing to that school and my only other choice was Reseda High, which I atteneded for one semester. The reasons for wanting one school over another was the person i considered my closest friend at the time. In fact i wanted to attend so much that her mother offered to let me live with them during the week so I could attend the school. Mother put her foot down and said NO. Off I go to Reseda High. It was great my other friend who i cared about was there with her twin brother. During my first couple of months there, my mother had her first stroke, which at the time I was not told what had happened only that she was in the hospital, and that my being bussed was not going to be an option for much longer. Because if i missed the bus or wanted to attend extra curricular activities it would be too much for her.

The thing about high school. I did not want to attend the high school that my three brillant star siblings attended. Also the very same High School that most of the bullies i knew from my neighborhood and junior high attended. I had a cousin who was teaching at a school outside our district. Bye Bye L.A. school district, hello Montebello School District. So, i attended Wilson High School long enough to register and have my papers signed so i could attend Schurr High School my alma mater. It was a weird day. not really sure what odds were, but the only person i'd hoped not to run into was Cathy, not me my nemisis of the same name. Sure enough,we made eye contact in the hall that day. Oh well.

Another thing i have glossed over. I was heavily medicated for my asthma, on a medication called Marax. OH and allergy shots, and physical therapy for bursitis in my knees. So,when i registered at Schurr, i was put into Special Pyhsical Education Classes (thank you Mrs. caruthers, your meditation technique has saved my life on more than one occasion) and Advanced Acdamic classes. World Literature, that's the field trip that took us to see The Martian Chronicles. Mr. H, was my counselor and he put me together with my best friends. Well for High School anyway, in my heart every friend i ever had at that time still holds a special place in my heart. There was only one super bad thing about that high school, that i didn't find out about until my second week. The girl from elemetary school who wanted to kick my ass, attends this school. She never kicked my ass, but i'm pretty sure she helped with some of the rumors that were spread. Never mind the truth of me. Also during this time, my father's career was still in full swing he had gone from being an assemblyman to a state senator. And i was listenting to my parents argue, about more things than i shall mention. Me, my sibliings, the stories in the papers about my father. I also got to hear his arguments with his staff and other city leaders. It takes a lot of gumption and tenacity to stay in politcs. My father was always in demand by someone. Even when he was relaxing, he was always being asked for this or that.

It's the year 2020 as i write this, and as i look back, I realize, i was a latch key kid, spoiled sure, lucky sure, priveleged sure. But I was ALONE, a lot more often than anyone realizes. Even when my parents or siblings were home, i was alone. They proably would look back and believe they taught me to be self relient, independent. They did, but at the expense of my emotional state. Again, i don't think anyone know about the molestation. I tried to runaway from home several times. But when your dad has a huge staff and can easily have you followed. Good luck with that. The first time I was about 14, I saved money to buy my own bike and i was just gonna get on it and ride. That didn't work out. someone found my note before i even left the house.

For the first few weeks, my mother drove me to school, until she felt i had a handle on things. Then i started riding Public transportation. RTD with a transfer to Montebello Bus Lines which dropped me off right in front of the school. I couldn't keep up with the advanced classes, so I was placed back in regular classes. I was struggling with my meds. And as sick as this sounds today, I think I missed the bus ride and the abuse. I'm not sure. But looking back it seems logical. When you become a regular on a bus route, you see the same people everyday. I met a driver who was kind, he talked about God. I liked hearing about God from just about anyone. If it wasn't coming from my family, that is. He knew I was in High School, I knew i shouldn't talk to him, but i was lonely. 70 percent of our relationship was about God, 20 percent was him talking about how much he loved his kids, and how he couldn't get along with there mother. He lived with his parents and spent every chance he had with his kids. One day he gave me a copy of THE WAY, the new testament. I cherished it. We became pen pals, so that my parents wouldn't find out he or we agreed that he would be called Alice. Sharing mostly about the bible, about his trips on his motorcycle and life in general. I started skipping class and riding the bus with him, it was more educational than school, that's for sure. I got a part time job at a church nursery school, thanks to my friend, it was one heck of a ride. I'd tell you a story about my friend and I at that school, but she proably wouldn't like it. oh hell, she was dating one of the parents, while he was still married and like a nut, i helped her keep it secret. But, than she helped me to see my busdriver, so fairs fair. We were, I guess dating, but we both knew we shouldn't be. A year or so into our not dating, dating, he told me he got a girl pregnant, guess what, her name was Cathy, and it wasn't me. Once again I lost my heart, and i just stopped caring. The craziest thing happened, he was at my high school graduation, i was never really sure if he was there to see me, or if he had relatives at the school. But we made eye contact and i melted. He started to walk towards me, when someone grabbed him by the arm and he walked away with them.

I was doing so bad at school with truancy, and well, my grades were just barely strong enough for me to graduate. but lucky me i did. My mother tried to enroll me in a catholic school, the very one, my puppy love crush sisters were attending. The school said, sorry your not our type. You have the I.Q., and are being recommeded by an influential family, but you just aren't suited for our school. Oh well. so much for my internal dream of being married to jesus and becoming a nun. So , I changed my dream and said when i grow up i want to be jesus, just not willing to hang on no cross or be martyered

I was a junior in high school the first time i remember having my first near death experience. I have had several, since than. I was doing my normal saturday chore of dusting and vacuuming. And this time I had an Asthma Attack, and the Primetine Mist wasn't cutting it, I couldn't get my breathe and my eyes were starting to swell. So mom and I jumped in the car and headed to my favorite clinic. My Dr. wasn't in, but his brother also a dr. was. They took me in as soon as they could get a room for me. At that time there was a new experimental drug called cortisone that was suppose to clear up an allergic reaction and clear the air waves. NO NO NO...it did not work. We got into the car drove four blocks to the Ramirez Pharmacy, to have a prescrition filled, while we were there, we ran into a couple of friends, while they were talking i started to turn red and hot, and had trouble breathing. We got back into the car, went straight to the doctor, while they were examing me, i lost consciousness. I know this because I was standing over them watching them try to revive me. The next thing I remember is being on oxygen, and being transported to the Montery Park Hospital. I get to the emergency room, my mother is explaing what happened, in the meantime the e.r. dr. on duty gives me the same shot that i just had a bad reaction to. So off i go into wonderland again. I don't remember much after that. excpt for when I went back to school, I wrote about it in my english class, as a part of our thirty minute free flow journal writing. I also crossed it out cause i felt sick that i hadn't died, sick that i almost died without experiencing much of life. And that my teacher was about to read it. I think shortly after that, i pretty much gave up on life, and still carried on, because it was expected of me. I never had answers for anyone, i started wearing overalls, i may have finally actually started drinking by than. Not so much to numb myself, though that was a benefit, but mostly to try and stop the shakes, that i always felt from my prescribed medications. During my snior year I was enrolled in the Regional Occupational Program through school, I decided that going into real estate, the escrow side, would be more interesting than banking. So I began working, not being paid, as part of school. I met two older men while working there. One a real estate agent, who took advantage, i did not make a pass at him. And a carpenter, him I met on the phone as i was a receptionist, he had such a nice voice, and one day he came in to sign papers, and it was an instant attraction. One day he invited me to a picnic at the Condo he had just finished building. I still remember it to this day. I can see him driving away in his white mustang, i even remember the license plate,as it was specialized, and those were new and rare. Flash forward 8 years, and i end up in that same condo, babysitting some kids that i had just met at a new job. Talk about crazy.

During this time i had a stalker. I was working at Swensons Ice Cream Parlor, wiyh my semi favorite bosses, and my best friend . He worked at the Home Depot or whatever giant hardware store was in that mall. Anyways, he would come to my work for his break, bring me flowers, i never ment for him to believe i was interested in him. I even told him I was in love with someone else. I was just being my ususal friendly self. Though I did meet his family, and he did ask me to move in with him, and since I wanted to get away from my home and all my heartbreak, i said yes, but mostly because, he scared me. no really he scared me. I was driving my car one day on the freeway when he decided he should have me right then and there while i was driving, he fingered me. I didn't say yes, but i didn't say no. I was driving in traffic. He was in control. I was not. So one day i left for work, ended up at the 76 truck stop near the 15 and 10 freeways, delivering for my job at the AutoTrader, when this guy his dog and two friends asked if i could give them a ride to Las Vegas. I finished my days work and off we went, never to look back. That was the summer of 1979, before i turned 18. It's a bit late in the day. But i am truley sorry for what happened next, and how it led my parents to send me away. The rest of that story is between myself God and my deceased family. I will say it was an adventure of a lifetime. They were older than I was. And the sights of this country I actually got to see, and the types of people i met during this summer, well, lets just say, I have never been able to hear the sound of a Harley Davidson or other motor cycle with out having immmediate flashbacks to the days of my youth.

inhercat's ponderings

Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Sunday, November 15, 2020

Monday, November 2, 2020

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

riding the bus, is more fun than riding a bike in the rain...