Blog 8: Best of Friends

It was a cold winter night. No a warm summer day. No. It was another school day under the rule of Sister Ann, our teacher at St. James. This appeared to be like any other day in the 6th grade, until it was not. I can't recall the order of events but I remember the outcome. Did Sister Ann ask me to show the new student where to put her lunch, or did I volunteer out of boredom? I can't remember. I do remember we both had a chemise dress on, probably purchased at Robert Hall. (FYI, Robert Hall was a department store in Pt. Loma.  I couldn't say what's there now.)  For those that don't remember or know what a chemise is, it was a straight dress sometimes with  a little ruffle on the bottom.

I am not sure if the uniform dress code had been temporarily lifted or if we had options in those grades, but that day we were wearing "civilian" clothes.  We wore identical dresses.  Each had a ruffle and a tie around the neck with a  white collar, if I remember correctly.  Pat's dress was gray and white, mine light turquoise and white. I showed Pat, then Patty,  where to put her lunch.  It was just a closet and thank God we didn't get ptomaine poisoning in those days. (By the way that term has been retired since then).   Slowly but surely a friendship evolved. Some wouldn't see it this way, but destiny was in front of me. Pat.

 

Patty came to my house, I went to hers. We found a commonality, yet we were very different.  We did many crazy things together. I don't think we thought much about whether or not the relationship would last. 

 

 Maybe it was just because she had a bigger family, but the rules seemed more relaxed at her house.  What kid wouldn't like that? What a house.  A gorgeous home with sprawling green landscape with a cottage where we would have slumber parties.  A pond.  A big pond on 15th street in Del Mar. Our house had history but it was a bit more funky.  

 

It was a very sad day when an unthinkable thing happened.  We saw smoke and heard fire trucks at the end of a school day at St. James.  We could tell by the direction of the smoke the general vicinity where the fire was.  We believed it to be the home of another one of our classmates, Alexa, but it turned out to be Pat's house.  I remember going to the location and seeing her older sister, home from OLP in San Diego, standing in the driveway with a calming smile in a blue jean skirt.     Her mom mustered up a smile, remarking and saying while holding the keys " I still have the keys."  That was pretty much all that was left, except maybe the cottage.  

 

In the 8th grade I made the mistake of passing a note with a few cuss words in it, and Sister Margaret Joseph caught me.  I thought the punishment was a bit over the top.  I had to spend most of my summer with the lay-person housekeeper for the church rectory.   How convenient. It was just a block away.  I missed out on the beach, my friends, and it just seemed unfair.  My parents weren't overly strict and I was surprised by this punishment.  I guess I embarrased them.  I lost touch with Pat for the most part, until the 9th grade.  

 

Patricia

I don't know if our parents talked or how it came about, maybe Pat was also paying a penance.  Nevertheless, no way either of us were going to Earl Warren in Solana Beach for the 9th grade.  Trouble was about to resurface when we found out we were both headed to Cathedral Girls High School in San Diego.  Her mom and my brother would alternate taking us to school.  My brother was going to law school in SD.  Again, how convenient.  We were often late and had to get passes to class at the office.   It was an effort for our drivers to get us there as well.   One morning when it was Pat's mom's turn, no one had picked me up.  When we called their house, Pat's mom fell asleep during the call.   My dad and I looked at each other funny, we jumped into his turquoise Biscayne and he dropped me off at Pat's house. What's another tardy?

The complexity of distance took place every afternoon when we took the Greyhound bus home. We had to walk to the bus station on Broadway to catch the bus.  It was a pretty gross place and older men were always bothering us.  

 

We got into our share of minor mischief that year.   9th grade was a low point for me, in the educational process.  I was lost.  I really wanted to go to a public school.  After a year at Cathedral I got my wish, San Dieguito in Encinitas, California. It turned  out that was where Pat was going too.  The excitement didn't last.  Suddenly everything changed.  For reasons that weren't  fully understood, the family decided to move back to Illinois abruptly with very little warning.  I was sad, but I had an idea.    To be continued....

 

Pat's Family's Vacation

Pat at St. James