Mom & Dad’s Final Vacation
One night early that summer, Dad was out shooting pool when a mysterious well-dressed fellow drove up in a black limousine with New York plates. The newcomer spied Dad shooting inside, was intrigued, and challenged him. Dad left late that night with $1700 in his pocket.
When he got home, he casually tossed the bills down in front of Mom. “We’re going to Puerto Rico,” he announced, to Mom’s wide-eyed tears of disbelief. This meant Mom and Dad would have one last vacation together. They made whirlwind plans to fly to San Juan and were to be away one week in late May.
“One Night In Bangkok” by Murray Head
Murray Head – One Night In Bangkok
I was responsible at home during their absence. Surprisingly, Mom and Dad allowed John to visit, (and help look after Steve) and to his parents’ disapproval, John arrived as planned to hugs and kisses from his new girlfriend.
That week was ecstasy. I worked during the day, and John hung around to catch my breaks. We were very much intimate by that time, and it was tough to snag a few moments remote from Steve’s prying vision.
We saw A View to A Kill at the movies (I’d seen it already with my friend Paul but sat through it again just to be with John).
We spent a lot of time in the back of either Caddy under a dark tree on Willow Street, and at the pond near the Library. We just soaked each other up. Mom and Dad came back after a wonderful time away, John went home, and so continued the summer.
John visited twice, one weekend with three-week stretches in between. He sent me cards and letters, and called occasionally on his parents’ phone. We missed each other a lot. By that time I had accumulated a collection of photos of him, and looked at the little album constantly. I was one seriously lovesick pup.
I also went out with Tracy. She was the same as junior high—fun and spontaneous. We dressed up and went clubbing, and I ended up kissing a couple of cute guys. My heart was still with John, though the indiscretions probably resulted from watered-down Black Russians tinged by a bit of teenage immaturity.
Maid of Honor
On July 27, “big sis” Mona got married, and I was her maid of honor. It was a “snowball wedding” with the bridesmaids in white floor-length satin and the guys all in black.
John came out from Pennsylvania to be my unofficial escort, as formally, I was partnered with Sal, the Best Man. John went to and fro with my family, and I was ferried by limousine with the rest of the bridal party.
After all the formalities, John and I could relax at the reception and dance together as much as we pleased. We all had a wonderful time, and John even danced with Mom, and in her stiff foam neck brace, she still tore up that floor! People still talk about it.
Come bouquet and garter-toss time, I snatched the former and John got the latter, all caught on video. Having removed my heeled shoes for the event, I slipped on stocking feet and landed solidly on my rump on the dance floor.
“Everything She Wants” by Wham!
I held bouquet-in-hand high in victory, to everyone’s amusement. I was feeling too happy to be embarrassed. The spotlight was on John and me as we went through the “garter-up-the-leg” routine. It was all very charming, and almost prophetic as five years later we’d throw our own beautiful wedding. It was heavenly dancing in John’s arms, gazing up into his deep, dreamy brown eyes.
I also went to Mona’s to hang out by the pool that summer, and we spent many happy afternoons together.
I worked at Bun ‘n Burger up until it was time to get ready to return to WVU. In the interim were frequent trips down the shore with Anne and other friends, as well as the family. I went out (as friends) with a couple of guys (one I knew from work, and the other was Mike W from high school). I went to Steve K’s graduation party with Paul. One night at Anne’s, I was hanging out with her, Dana, and Sue. Peter, an exchange student from Holland, cornered me for a kiss down in the basement. So this is how they raise them in northwestern Europe.
Mom and I spent a lot of time together, doing errands, going out to eat, going to the Middlesex County Fair, and getting me set for sophomore year. The final movie we would see was Cocoon. I also brought her to cobalt and chemo appointments. She had a remarkably good summer, considering how she’d been feeling last winter and through spring. She cooked meals, danced at Mona’s events, and even went with Dad to his Aunt Jenny’s 75 birthday party. We also tried sushi for the first time at a Japanese restaurant in Colts Neck. It was almost easier to imagine the cancer wasn’t real.
Another Shot at Snare
Band camp approached fast—and the assurance that John and I would be together regularly again. I had been practicing for drum tryouts all summer, using MATCHED grip, and I was ready to roll (so to speak). I packed all I needed, knowing the drill.
“A View To a Kill” by Duran Duran
Duran Duran – A View To A Kill
It was an all-night drive with my parents in balmy mid-August, so I would arrive in time for Drumline auditions first thing in the morning. This is a particularly painful time to recall, as I made a choice about which I am still conflicted.
Mom wanted to be there to see the outcome of the auditions and share it with only Dad and me. She did not want John to be there. I of course knew that he would be, as my heart yearned to be with him again. He, my potential life mate, would also be important to the occasion, and he wanted to see me achieve snare drum almost as much as Mom did … so I kept mum.
The audition was very tough, but I nailed my exercises and rudiments on matched grip, and awaited the decision with everyone else. When the snare line roster was read, MY NAME WAS ON IT!
I COULD BARELY CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT! I had made it!
I was a snare drummer at WVU!
I dashed down the hall at the CAC and my heart almost popped as I gave John the news. Later, my parents picked me up for lunch and they, especially Mom, were absolutely thrilled. Then, the question: “Was John there?” Dread stuck in my throat. I could have lied and everything would have been jolly. Perhaps for all concerned, I should have.
At that time, I didn’t realize the reason for the depth of Mom’s disappointment: She knew she would probably not be around for the next audition … or the rest of my life.
She was mourning the loss of sharing the experience with ME, and ONLY ME, as she’d supported my drumming from the start … including sending that letter. I lacked the maturity, the judgment, and the insight. The fact that John eventually became my husband serves as some justification for my choice, and I’m certain that where Mom is, she now understands.
WVU Drumline and YAMAHA … the Choice of a New Generation
Drumline practice began that day, following distribution of instruments. We had brand new YAMAHA equipment that year! It was beyond bliss when I placed the snare drum carrier over my shoulders and took my spot with the other 12 snare players, holding my newly-taped Pro Mark DC-9s.
And I played perfectly in sync with everyone else in the 40-piece drumline. We began warm-ups, and learning cadences, including the crowd-pleasing Boogie for Pre-game.
I had solidly proven I could cut it.
Finally.
I was a snare drummer with the highly competitive WVU Drumline … a pinnacle for a violin major who’d picked up this drumming gig only three years prior.
Mom and Mark were right. And I owed thanks to Gordon T. as well. This was my American Idol. My dream. My destiny.
The oppressive August heat and the physical exhaustion of dawn-to-night practice didn’t bother me. I welcomed the perspiration, the calluses from holding wooden sticks all day, the aching feet from endless marching with an extra weight on my shoulders, not to mention the friction welts on my hips from the lower part of the harness, plus a lower backache.
I loved it all.
Hi Lori. I like your site. Your tribute to your Mom is very touching although I already knew that you loved and respected your Mom very much. She must have been an awsome lady. I actually read that chapter first after I saw it while looking at the chapter listing. Still have more to get through.
Thank you! I’m happy you have been enjoying the site. The Mom tribute could easily have been much longer, but my memoirs do the job of elaboration. 😎