A Driving Ambition
In spring 1983, those of us about to receive our learner’s permits attended a basic driving class at school. This complemented Driver’s Ed in the classroom from sophomore year.
“Driver’s Seat” by Sniff ‘N The Tears
Sniff ‘N’ the Tears – Driver’s Seat
By this time, I had been doing a lot of driving with Mom and Dad, getting experience. I’d also done more than my share of parallel parking practice in the KMart lot. I was ready.
After the required class time, we went out to the “driving range” on the school grounds, down by the football stadium. This was a pretty elaborate little setup with some winding asphalt roads and curbs with street signs and a real traffic light.
“Mr. Nopp” was our instructor, and he watched from the “control tower” on the edge of the range. Our car radios were tuned to a private frequency, on which Mr. Nopp would offer comments and give commands. I chose the cute little blue Ford Escort coupe, and everyone else got Chevettes.
I kicked off the ignition and was in motion while another student was figuring out how to use the automatic gearshift.
I nimbly took the little Escort through every exercise. It was easy, especially in such a tiny car, having previously been out getting road experience with Dad in our land yacht Cadillacs.
At one point, Mr. Nopp kidded over the radio, “Car #2, would ya please stop showin’ off.” He had me doing backward figure-8s to keep me occupied while the others got more rudimentary attention.
Naked Eyes’ Always Something There to Remind Me was popular at the time, and reminds me of that experience out on the EBHS Driving Range.
After several hours on the range, we were ready for a road test with one of the gym teachers. Miss Petracek took me out in an old tinny Plymouth Volare, and we hit the NJ Turnpike.
When I adequately demonstrated my city and highway-driving acumen, I was given my voucher to obtain a Learner’s Permit from the NJ Department of Motor Vehicles, and Mom brought me to Red Lobster to celebrate.
I got to miss an afternoon of school — celebrations like this were important to Mom. And because of her, every milestone really received due ceremony.
This, of course, meant I got to drive pretty much every time we went out for errands, music lessons, visiting, etc. which was fine by me.
I had the best driving instructors in the passenger seat.
“Ain’t Nobody” by Rufus and Chaka Khan
Rufus & Chaka Khan – Ain’t Nobody
Mom’s Personal Assistant
It’s significant to mention that Mr. Nopp and his wife happened to be enrolled in one of Mom’s Lamaze classes that spring. This was also the time when Mom began bringing me to work in the evening, to act as her “assistant”.
She would let me drive us up to St. Peter’s, and we would acquire all the materials for the class, then she’d put on her monogrammed lab coat (and give me a generic one to wear). In the classroom, she’d “put me to work” setting up the displays and video tape, and I also drew a couple of diagrams for use.
It was entertaining to witness my mother the Lamaze instructor in action. She held the rapt attention of every person in the class (the pregnant mothers and their “coaches”, whether it be the dads or whomever). She was terrific.
Animated in her explanations and quick with the jokes, the couples laughed and were completely involved.
I felt almost educated enough to give birth myself!
I swelled with 16-year-old “importance” when I had to put up a chart or do some other necessary easily-done task to complement the learning experience.
After class, we put our lab coats away and returned the materials cart to its closet, all the while Mom complimenting me on my efforts that evening. We’d stop for pizza at Grande Pizzarama on the way home.
When I saw her carrying her briefcase, I would often refer to her as “The Important Mommy” which tickled her. She was setting such a good example. What a Mom!
Mischief and Due Recourse
In early June, John B accused me of breaking into his locker. That was some projecting, considering he was more than likely the culprit of the pilfering of my own locker the previous year. I had absolutely nothing to do with this. Apparently he had enemies, and it would have been no surprise as to why.
He threatened me and our property, and hurled some despicable names, and I poo-pooed him and said get lost. But when graffiti later appeared above the lockers by the band room, obviously related to the situation, I relayed this to my mother when I got home.
She immediately called the principal to report the initial accusation and verbal abuse, as well as the graffiti, as they’d happened on school grounds. We went right back to the high school to take photos, and showed Mr. Caseiro, the school administrator, the walls with the graffiti. We then headed down to the Municipal Building to file a harassment complaint with the East Brunswick Police, as this had continued as I walked home.
That night, John B called me demanding his stuff. Mom then took the phone and informed him about the filed complaint, and to expect a visit from the police department. Like a wimp, he hung up.
An East Brunswick detective then called us and said he was on his way over to John B’s house. He also stated that John B’s mother had filed a counter-complaint alleging that I provoked it all.
It was so ludicrous at this point. What had I done? Nothing. I drafted a list of the things he had done, though mostly verbal, and submitted it with the photos to supplement my complaint. I was sick and tired of this jerkoff’s mood swings, and I wanted it stopped.
Soon, John B’s mother came over to speak with Mom and Dad, insisting that her son wanted no trouble. My parents were furious, but mollified. Having acted upon it the way we did sent a stark message to her and her son in no uncertain terms.
I don’t know whether there were any ramifications from the school administration; I would hope that they charged the repainting of the walls to his parents. John B never bothered me again.
Afternote: Years later, at the 10-year high school reunion, John B warmly apologized for anything he had done back then. Sensing his sincerity, I forgave him.
Tragic turn
In early June, we found out that Harish, an upperclassman cellist in the orchestra, passed away in a drowning accident on a weekend camping trip. We were all shocked and saddened.
We canceled a music picnic that had been scheduled, and decided to dedicate the upcoming recital to him. He would have performed in it, and graduated just weeks following.
Many of us went to the wake, and felt sorrow for his parents. We were aghast to hear the funeral director jokingly say something like “you’re teenagers; why aren’t you more rowdy?” My friends and I exchanged glances that obviously conveyed, “wow, this guy is some kinda jerk.”
Spring also brought the annual Marching Band Banquet at the East Brunswick Chateau. Members and staff could have a sit-down dinner, present awards and have an overall recap of the previous season. I got a gold BAND pin for my letter.
The graduating seniors got a nice farewell. That night, I sat with my Drumline friends. I was in a lot of the slide show pictures. When Mom picked me up, Let’s Dance by David Bowie was on the car stereo.
Popular music from the second half of junior year was Stray Cat Strut by the Stray Cats, Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran, Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, Mr. Roboto by Styx, Jeopardy by Greg Kihn (Mom loved this one), and Electric Avenue by Eddy Grant.
“I’m Still Standing” by Elton John
Elton John – I’m Still Standing
The spring orchestra concert, dedicated to our friend Harish, went very well. It included some soloists, and I was one of them. I had prepared a Mozart piece under the tutelage of Gordon T. Jay M provided the piano accompaniment.
I was rattled during the weeks of preparation, but the performance went better than I thought it would. It had been my first solo. I felt relieved and happy when it was over. Mom and Mr. T were very proud of me.
After the concert, a bunch of us went over to Anne’s for a big end-of-year party. I also found out that Rich W had a crush on me … he’d been calling me for several weeks, and was nice, but I really didn’t feel the same way in return. We signed yearbooks too.
A blast of a summer
The summer of ’83 was jam-packed with excitement. Mona and I hung out like sisters, and I saw friends and went out quite a bit.
Having discussed possible colleges for the fall of ’84, I decided I wanted to go for West Virginia University. It was an attractive prospect due to its outstanding music program, nationally acclaimed Marching Band, popular Division 1-A football program, and beautiful setting.
All four of us went down to West Virginia for an exploratory visit to see the campus and all it had to offer. West Virginia University had a beautiful campus, nestled in Morgantown, WV with state-of-the-art facilities and the ground-breaking Personal Rapid Transit system.
While Dad and Steven went off on their own, Mom and I visited the Creative Arts Center (“CAC”), the Towers residence hall, and other notable points of interest for a prospective student.
We stood at the North Gate of the massive Mountaineer Field, imagining me down there on the Astroturf with the WVU Drumline. West Virginia was my only choice, and I would apply in the fall.
I believe that Mom’s greatest gift to me was the freedom to choose where I wanted to attend college. Not once did she implore me to consider a close-by school such as Rutgers or Montclair.
She knew that her health would not prevail, and that she would see far less of me than ever before. However, her generosity and wisdom allowed her to prioritize my future over her own.
As I reflected upon this over the years, I realize how her heart must have been breaking at the time. My father also later confided to me that Mom intentionally delayed a potentially life-saving surgery in order to see that I was set at college.
I’ll be grateful for this until my dying day.
Popular music of the time included Safety Dance by Men Without Hats (Mom liked this one), Tell Her About It by Billy Joel (I didn’t care for it), and Fascination by Human League, which I liked.
