Back to school … a relief
As break neared its end, I couldn’t wait to return to WVU, which I now considered “home.”
I performed in my first “Upper Level Recital” violin solo in December, accompanied by Teri-Lynn on piano.
This was the first of two such recitals that would fulfill my requirement to graduate—one prepared piece as part of a program including other music majors.
It was nerve-wracking, as I disliked playing anything but snare drum solo. I did fine, however, and was quite relieved when it was over.
“La Isla Bonita” by Madonna
Ours was a fun, busy apartment. We hosted quite a few parties, including a Christmas bash during finals week. Eunice and I invented Red Candle Punch, consisting of various beverages with attitude miscellaneously tossed into the bowl, a potent crimson-hued elixir.
Who gave a rap about the drinking age? There was always an upperclassman to grab the goods on the legal.
We even had a little silver Christmas tree with gifts underneath for all of us, including Bob, Bear and Gene.
Winter break was a longer stretch of the same from Thanksgiving. I hung out at the house, seeing friends and preparing mentally for the next semester. Perhaps as a part of his grieving process, Dad was rather vocal about the women he was seeing. At the time, I found it annoying, but looking back, he was probably attempting to assure himself (and anyone who would listen) that he was still very much a vibrant being.
Winter Break in Florida
Toward the end of break, John and I drove down to Lehigh Acres, FL with his parents.
By that time, they were “snowbirds.” A bunch of their friends from Somerset did the same, and settled in condos for a few months in winter. John’s parents eventually ended up buying a villa in a retirement community, Beacon Square.
We enjoyed the pool and went to Bonita Beach to visit his Aunt LaVerne and Uncle Jim.
They stayed at “The Egret” oceanfront high rise. It was wonderful to feel the warmth and take evening walks together.
One night, we stayed up all night in the living room watching TV because we just wanted to be together. John’s “old school” aunt and uncle were less than pleased, though it had been completely innocent. We got an earful!
We also hit Disney World for a couple of days. John and I went off on our own, and had a ball, meeting his parents for dinner. It was a pleasant drive down, and John’s parents put us on a plane back to Pittsburgh so we could return to school.
End of an Era
Old Mountaineer Field downtown was demolished early in 1987.
After history class at the historic Woodburn Hall, I would walk down and around the huge fenced-in demolition area and observe the progress.
It was sad to witness this once-dynamic place for decades of West Virginia football fall by force. My generation in the Marching Band had marched only at New Mountaineer Field during football games, to a crowd of 65,000.
“Big Time” by Peter Gabriel
For the first year of college, we’d used the old facility for practice. Now condemned, it was to be razed to make way for the new Business and Economics building. I stood there watching the wrecking ball fly, seeing the plastic bench seats bend and hearing the crunch of the concrete crumbling under its pounding weight.
Predictably, people sneaked onto the site to grab any mementos they could from the old icon: Artificial turf, plastic from the benches, wood … even pieces of concrete.
Control by Janet Jackson and Big Time by Peter Gabriel (above) remind me of seeing a once-integral part of the University slowly meet its inevitable demise.
Tau Beta Sigma
That year, I also pledged the honorary band sorority, Tau Beta Sigma. They, along with Kappa Kappa Psi, worked together for the benefit of the organization and also hosted a few regional events for different chapters.
One such event was a party one night at the Star City Fire Hall. Served in a huge barrel was an interesting citrus/grain alcohol punch concoction called the Dutchman. Smooth going down, its effects struck like a cobra. Needless to say, a good many of us got silly mighty quickly.
John and I ended up hopping a ride back to his apartment … neither of us could drive.
I was still a few months from legal drinking privileges, but not so for John, by then approaching a worldly age 24. John survived the overindulgence just fine, sleeping it off. I wasn’t so fortunate.
My participation in these organizations evolved, including serving as Chairman of the Telephone Outreach Committee. I designed some posters, including those for Percussion 80, WVU’s premier group directed by “Chief” Phil Faini.
Life was good that semester. I did well in my classes; Teri, Eunice and I enjoyed apartment life (along with the four live wires across the hall), and John and I spent lots of time together.
Caught Up in the Rapture by Anita Baker was one of the many tunes playing on my Walkman as I went about life on campus, as well as Candy by Cameo, La Isla Bonita by Madonna, and Big Love by Fleetwood Mac.
Campus Canoodling With John
When we weren’t studying or spending time with friends on the weekends, John and I would make the days our own.
We’d snuggle at either of our apartments, head up to Mountaineer Mall to browse, drive into Pittsburgh to walk around the massive Century III Mall, or catch a fast food snack at Wings, Rax or McD’s. On campus, we’d delight in having a PRT all to ourselves as we zipped between destinations. It didn’t matter what we did; it was enough to just be together.
A few times, we stopped in to see some old pals of his from his two years at Cal U. (California University of Pennsylvania) before John transferred to WVU in 1984.
This included a cool drummer from their snare line named Pete Harris, and we would talk percussion. Things were always interesting at Pete’s—lots of beer, munchies and weed for the mutual enjoyment of all.
Pete had a nice girlfriend named Jamie, and some other curious characters would come and go as the wind shifted.
“Part Time Lover” by Stevie Wonder
Stevie Wonder – Part Time Lover
Plans for a summer together
As the weather warmed, finals approached. John and I began talking about where he would live over the summer, and we both hoped he could spend it in New Jersey.
Never mind the ruckus that ensued when his parents learned of his intentions. That was just ridiculous considering their “little Johnny” was now barely a year shy of a quarter-century of age! It boggled my mind.
My parents had sent me off to a school 8 hours away at 17—now, John was facing opposition to a mature and practical decision. He wasn’t temporarily moving to Taiwan; it was New Jersey.
Just weeks from 24, nobody should have to knuckle under to parental demands over a living situation. This caused a real strain between all of us. I was perceived as wanting to control John’s every move. That always hurt, because I would never dream of forcing John to do anything, especially that which would put him at odds with his parents. This was his call.
It was simple—we just wanted to be together and there was little anyone could do to dissuade him. Though John’s father warmed to me over the years, I still sensed a hint of disapproval and resentment from his mother when we visited. So I let it be.
Fortunately, I believe she also eventually softened toward me as she gradually realized John and I really were good for one another.
John’s intention was to drive us home to NJ in his AMC coupe, pulling a small U-Haul trailer with both our things in it, and find a room for rent for the summer through a local real estate agent. Naturally, he’d have to get a summer job as well. We were cautious in the hope that it might actually work out. Spending a third summer apart was a thought neither of us wanted to entertain.
So to Jersey we went in May, and we immediately began perusing the papers for rentals (Dad graciously allowed John to sleep downstairs in the meantime).
“Right On Track” by Breakfast Club
Breakfast Club – Right On Track
Fortunately, John found a room in a house in Somerset, off JFK Blvd. in a quiet suburb. An elderly lady, Mrs. Grogan owned the place. John moved in immediately. His room contained a twin bed, dresser and night table. It was more than enough.
We would not have to be apart after all! John and I were elated at our good fortune. I submitted a basic clerical resume to a few temporary agencies, hoping to pick something up quickly. I landed my first clerical job in a small office in Parlin, and John grabbed something doing construction or some other manual type of work, and our summer got off to a good start.
Mom’s estate also came through, and this meant I could finally buy a car for college and beyond. My absolute top choice was a sleek Dodge Daytona coupe.
Dream Wheels
Dad took me car shopping, armed with his lifetime of know-how and uncanny ability to negotiate the nuts off even the slickest dealer.
At Richard’s Honda City on Route 9, I set my sights on the Daytona’s sister model by the same manufacturer, a metallic cocoa 142-HP Chrysler Laser Turbo XE that took only premium fuel. As quoted from this online review, “… as anyone who has experienced a turbo Mopar can tell you, it’s a different way to get there and nothing to be taken lightly.”
What a beauty— low mileage, and only three years old. It had a monster engine, stereo tape deck, all-leather interior, bucket seats, a rear spoiler and a tight, sporty feel. To top things off, this car was like something straight out of Knight Rider, with an articulate male computerized voice modulator (this supplemented the “idiot light” indicators on the dash). James T. Kirk would approve.
There was not a mechanical dial to be seen— the dash displays and the speedometer (mph and kph at the touch of a button) were bold, large alpha-numeric and graphic readouts. This was recently rated on World’s Best Instrument Clusters, in good company with the likes of the late-model Porsche, Tesla, Mercedes, Lamborghini, Lexus, and Ferrari.
“Puttin’ a Rush On Me” by Stephanie Mills
Stephanie Mills – Puttin’ a Rush On Me
I knew not to raise my hopes. However, after a test drive, countless mechanical inquiries courtesy of Dad, and an assurance that they’d throw a new sunroof on at no extra charge, I knew this was The One.
I was ecstatic— but at the same time leery of owning something of such significant value for the first time, and being responsible for it—eight hours away at school, no less. I went to bed that night thinking about buying the car the next day, sunroof installed, and all the logistics involved.
First thing the next morning, I went to the bank to make a withdrawal. Ben Franklin’s many faces winked up at me as if to say, “fine horse she is indeed, milady …”
Dad and I later ran back down to the dealership, and I made the financial transaction and took title. Outright ownership of the car was mine, and I carefully drove it back to East Brunswick.
I had to make insurance arrangements, so I was on the phone with Dad’s insurer, Allstate, buying my own policy. This would take effect the next day. I couldn’t wait to show John, however. I took a huge chance and drove “Dino” the Laser XE to Grande Pizzarama, where he met me for dinner. John gave his enthusiastic approval. It was a sweet machine—not bad for a young woman’s first ride.
John and I spent most evenings and weekends together. Now that I had my own car, I didn’t need to regularly borrow Dad’s Caddys anymore.
Dad reinforced what he’d taught me about the basics of auto maintenance: checking/filling oil, trans and coolant levels as well as monitoring tire pressure and the air filter. Extra quarts of oil, jumper cables, washer fluid, dry gas and a fire extinguisher were stashed in the hatch. Dad also gave me my own tire gauge, which I still have today.
I remember one night I watched Moonstruck with John in the living room of the Grogan house and drinking Bartles & Jaymes coolers. The other boarder where John lived was a real piece of work in his 20s with a dark side and loose cannon of a personality, but who mostly kept to himself.
One time I parked in this guy’s “spot,” and John was told to “get your girlfriend’s car out of here [sic].” Well when I heard about this, I waited until wise-ass returned to the house, cornered him in his own car and let him have it with both barrels.
He was a captive audience in the driver’s seat of his beat-up pickup truck. Grudgingly, he apologized.
Favorite songs from that time include Right On Track by Breakfast Club, Rock Steady by The Whispers, and Puttin’ the Rush On Me by Stephanie Mills. They all bring me back to cruisin’ in Dino that first summer—tape deck pumping, sun roof open and being with John.
“Save a Prayer” by Duran Duran
For the first time, I could attend the two-day “percussion pre-camp” down at West Virginia. This was a voluntary opportunity for the Line to get together and work up our chops and play on our chosen instruments, do some marching and hone our skills for the following month’s cut-throat auditions.
John and I went down together, and we stayed at his apartment at Pineview, still leased to him for the summer. It was a nice getaway; it gave Dino his inaugural run (made the trip beautifully) and I got to do some hard core jamming with the guys.
ASTA came in August and I enjoyed another conference as a counselor, this time having gone in my own car. What freedom that meant! I could avoid bad weather, zip around instead of walk, and go on snack runs.
