Moving in to your horse's barn because your trailer got repossessed is what some folks might call a low point. It was time for a drastic change, so my parents moved us to the big city of N. Richland Hills, TX.
It was there -- when I was 16 -- I met a 22 year old Sailor. It was love at first sight. It was greatest four weeks of my life. The Petty Officer from Akron, Ohio, was shy, tan and muscular and drove a white Trans Am with a fake vent on its hood. Mom said he looked just like JFK, Jr. The movie Top Gun had just been released so when I first saw him covered in grease from working on an F-14 Tomcat I thought my uterus would crawl out of my vagina and snatch him whole and devour him like a hungry Venus flytrap from a Roger Corman flick.
But the movie that really predisposed me to falling for the Petty Officer was An Officer and a Gentleman. At 16, I was already either too bitter or headstrong to think that I, or any woman, needed a Prince Charming to save her but in the final scene when Richard Gere scoops up Debra Winger –- his love literally lifting her up where she belongs out of that factory –- well who hasn't at one time or another want to be rescued from their despair no matter how big or small?
Ft. Worth had not provided the reinvention we expected. In fact, things only got worse. Instead of driving 45 minutes one way to get drunk, now Dad just had to stumble across the street to Bennigan's.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school. Mom was making decent money working 80 hours a week building helicopters. I turned 17, was poised to graduate with summa cum laude honors and supplemented our income with a full time job at Malibu Grand Prix. So, after 23 years of drunken, stoned mayhem and Dad's blatant adultery, Mom finally filed for divorce. Dad didn't exactly agree. Things got dramatic and nasty and, well, have you seen the show Cops? That was us.
Mom allowing the Petty Officer sleep over only made Dad angrier. After all, it was Dad who gave me the sage advice on my first date: "Don't fu*k. I don't want you pregnant I want you to graduate and go to college." Seeing his "baby girl" get swept up into the arms of an officer and a gentlemen made Dad more possessive than ever.
Being in the Navy meant the Petty Officer had to go on leave once in a while. This time it was a two week stint on the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. His first day away, Dad took the opportunity to break in and slash all of Mom's clothes with a knife. We were pretty rattled by this and needed stress release. That day, Mom asked with a glint in her eye, "Do you want to smoke a joint?"
My mother wants to get me, her high school daughter, stoned?! Are you kidding me?
Umm...Hell, yeah!
She whipped out a joint; we got high and got the bright idea to go to Six Flags. We were dirt ass poor so we counted out all our loose change and found a buy one get one free admission offer on the back of a Dr. Pepper can. We got to Six Flags where a guy walked up and said, "Hey I bought these passes for the week but we're leaving town tonight so can't use them. You want 'em?" Good things happened to stoned people, I guess, because that meant we had money for FOOD! We ate ridiculous amounts of coney dogs, cotton candy and elephant ears and rode every roller coaster twice before coming home and collapsing. It was one of the best days of my life.
The next night my dad broke into the house again. This time he punched dozens of holes in the wall, held us hostage for hours, choked Mom and held a knife to her throat before I was able to stop the attack and call 911.
A few days later Mom and I were evicted for excessive noise disturbance and a few days after that the Petty Officer came back from sea. When he did, my uterus didn't devour him instead it smothered him with so much love he had no choice but to marry me.
Twenty years ago today, on Friday the 13th of January, 1989, after a long day of school and rehearsal for my role as "Lady Bracknell" in our senior play The Importance of Being Earnest, the Petty Officer and I loaded into the Dodge Omni and Mom drove us to the courthouse. Mom signed the marriage license granting us legal consent. Basically a permission slip like a field trip to the zoo except with a dowry from the US Government in the form of housing and dependent pay. After a couple of quick "I Dos," a judge declared me a Navy wife.
My Richard Gere had saved my pathetic Debra Winger ass and we rode off into the sunset in his white Trans Am.
It was there -- when I was 16 -- I met a 22 year old Sailor. It was love at first sight. It was greatest four weeks of my life. The Petty Officer from Akron, Ohio, was shy, tan and muscular and drove a white Trans Am with a fake vent on its hood. Mom said he looked just like JFK, Jr. The movie Top Gun had just been released so when I first saw him covered in grease from working on an F-14 Tomcat I thought my uterus would crawl out of my vagina and snatch him whole and devour him like a hungry Venus flytrap from a Roger Corman flick.
But the movie that really predisposed me to falling for the Petty Officer was An Officer and a Gentleman. At 16, I was already either too bitter or headstrong to think that I, or any woman, needed a Prince Charming to save her but in the final scene when Richard Gere scoops up Debra Winger –- his love literally lifting her up where she belongs out of that factory –- well who hasn't at one time or another want to be rescued from their despair no matter how big or small?
Ft. Worth had not provided the reinvention we expected. In fact, things only got worse. Instead of driving 45 minutes one way to get drunk, now Dad just had to stumble across the street to Bennigan's.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school. Mom was making decent money working 80 hours a week building helicopters. I turned 17, was poised to graduate with summa cum laude honors and supplemented our income with a full time job at Malibu Grand Prix. So, after 23 years of drunken, stoned mayhem and Dad's blatant adultery, Mom finally filed for divorce. Dad didn't exactly agree. Things got dramatic and nasty and, well, have you seen the show Cops? That was us.
Mom allowing the Petty Officer sleep over only made Dad angrier. After all, it was Dad who gave me the sage advice on my first date: "Don't fu*k. I don't want you pregnant I want you to graduate and go to college." Seeing his "baby girl" get swept up into the arms of an officer and a gentlemen made Dad more possessive than ever.
Being in the Navy meant the Petty Officer had to go on leave once in a while. This time it was a two week stint on the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. His first day away, Dad took the opportunity to break in and slash all of Mom's clothes with a knife. We were pretty rattled by this and needed stress release. That day, Mom asked with a glint in her eye, "Do you want to smoke a joint?"
My mother wants to get me, her high school daughter, stoned?! Are you kidding me?
Umm...Hell, yeah!
She whipped out a joint; we got high and got the bright idea to go to Six Flags. We were dirt ass poor so we counted out all our loose change and found a buy one get one free admission offer on the back of a Dr. Pepper can. We got to Six Flags where a guy walked up and said, "Hey I bought these passes for the week but we're leaving town tonight so can't use them. You want 'em?" Good things happened to stoned people, I guess, because that meant we had money for FOOD! We ate ridiculous amounts of coney dogs, cotton candy and elephant ears and rode every roller coaster twice before coming home and collapsing. It was one of the best days of my life.
The next night my dad broke into the house again. This time he punched dozens of holes in the wall, held us hostage for hours, choked Mom and held a knife to her throat before I was able to stop the attack and call 911.
A few days later Mom and I were evicted for excessive noise disturbance and a few days after that the Petty Officer came back from sea. When he did, my uterus didn't devour him instead it smothered him with so much love he had no choice but to marry me.
Twenty years ago today, on Friday the 13th of January, 1989, after a long day of school and rehearsal for my role as "Lady Bracknell" in our senior play The Importance of Being Earnest, the Petty Officer and I loaded into the Dodge Omni and Mom drove us to the courthouse. Mom signed the marriage license granting us legal consent. Basically a permission slip like a field trip to the zoo except with a dowry from the US Government in the form of housing and dependent pay. After a couple of quick "I Dos," a judge declared me a Navy wife.
My Richard Gere had saved my pathetic Debra Winger ass and we rode off into the sunset in his white Trans Am.
Getting hitched at the courthouse.
5 comments:
I am impressed that you managed to do exceptionally well with your studies, considering the circumstances where you lived and faced. This determination had carried you far away from that TX landcape to NYC and beyond.
This amazing story gets more amazing. You sure have my full respect:)
Oh, Kambri, such evocative language! Certainly that shining knight in white came galloping in at exactly the right time to rescue a super teenager! What chaos, what achievement! What drama! What writing! We all live in you. Cheers,
Wow. I don't even really know what to say... other than I'm really looking forward to reading your book!
This is too funny.
Kind of reminds me of deaf crass language such as "Don't fuck!" How many deaf dads say that to their daughter?
Candy~
I love how incredibly blunt the culture and language is...I've never experienced a 'beating around the bush' situation while talking to my boyfriend. If something sucks, it just sucks...how he feels and what he thinks is never left to the imagination; he's gonna let you know in great detail, then act out the story for emphasis! I am so enjoying reading your entries!
Thanks for sharing!
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