Short Skirts, Pompons, and Go Go Boots - Memory of Me Monday

{1972-Redondo Union High School drill team}

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER:  "Were you in a band, drill team, pep squad in high school?  Describe your experience."

As I wrote in an earlier post, I tried out for the drill team in the spring of my freshman year at Redondo Union High School, and made it, and so did my best friend, Judy.  That fall we performed at every home game for the football team, the Seahawks.  The above photo shows our uniforms.  We had crepe-paper pompons that we made ourselves, and we wore white tennis shoes and red bobby sox.  We had red wool sweaters with our names embroidered on them to wear on cold evenings.  Unfortunately, because they were made of wool, if it rained we had to take them off and put them under the benches so they wouldn't get wet!!  Why?  Well, have you ever smelled a wet sheep?  Not good!  Someone goofed up when they chose wool for our sweaters!

We also had a "Friday uniform" which we wore every Friday to show our school spirit. The outfit was a red-and-white gingham bodysuit-style blouse under a short white skirt. While our "official" uniforms were issued to us, each girl sewed her own Friday uniform, or found someone to sew it for her.  Judy and I both made ours and we loved wearing them since that was the only time we were allowed to wear our skirts shorter than 2" above our knees!

I remember when I finished sewing my skirt and tried it on with the blouse.  I was horrified to see that the red and white gingham fabric showed right through the thin cotton of the skirt.  It looked ridiculous and stupid.  I hadn't lined the skirt because I was still a beginner at sewing, and putting a lining in just looked too hard.  It was the night before the first day we were to wear the Friday uniforms, was late, and I was tired.  I burst into tears.

My mom took the skirt from me and told me to go to bed.  In the morning when I got up there was my skirt, fully lined, and it looked great.  My mom had taken it all apart, added the lining, and then re-sewn it.  I was thrilled. My mom wasn't up yet and I was being picked up to go to an early seminary class, so I wrote her a quick little thank you note.  I don't remember exactly what I wrote, but I do remember being in tears again.  It was a great day!

Football games that fall were always very exciting and a lot of fun.  I loved being part of the drill team and, naturally, I had a boyfriend who was on the football team which made the games even more fun to watch.

In the middle of my sophomore year my family moved from Redondo Beach, CA., to Woodland Hills, CA., and I transferred to Wm. Howard Taft High School.  I wasn't happy about the move; the teen years are a tough time to have to leave your friends behind and try to make new ones.  The kids at Taft were very different from Redondo.  At Redondo most of the students were just regular kids from average-income families; we rode our bikes to school or took the bus.  At Taft many of the students had their own cars with speedboats to match!  Instead of a beach party they held car & boat shows. Yeah, I didn't really fit in.

Still, I did have a small group of good friends, Laurie Thatcher and Nancy Solomon were my two closest, and I tried out and made it onto Taft's drill team.  We were the Toreadors.  Here's a photo of my squad (there were about 10 squads in all) from our yearbook:

{1974-Wm. High School Drill Team}

I'm in the back row, second from the left.  I didn't think the uniforms were nearly as cute as the ones at Redondo High, and we wore white gloves, of all things!  Still, I had a lot of fun.

But guess what?  My high school drill team experiences weren't my first!  I was also a Sailorette at Adam's Junior High!

{1971-Redondo Beach, CA.; Adam's Jr. High Sailorette Drill Team}

How 'bout that gold trim & buttons, sailor collar, and go go boots???  Ha ha!  Unlike high school, where we performed at football games, the Sailorettes team marched in parades and performed at school rallies and other events. Let me just say those boots were NOT for marching!  I always had blisters afterwards, but I did think they were really boss.  It's too bad you can't see the back of my head in the photo.  We were all required to wear our hair pulled back into a pony tail and we wore hairpieces!  Yep, I had what we called a "fall" of bouncy curls that I pinned on and that matched my own hair color.  I remember my mom had to take me to a special shop to buy it.  It was expensive, too, and it was probably tough for my parents to afford it.

The Sailorettes didn't just have pompon routines; we also twirled flags AND rifles.  The rifles were my favorite.  They weren't real rifles, of course, just rifle-shaped pieces of lightweight wood and painted white.  But if was fun to twirl them, toss them in the air and catch them again, and "present arms."

This drill team also differed from high school in that our program expenses (equipment, parade fees, etc.) were not covered by the school, instead we had outside sponsors, one of which was the local Elk's Club.  One of the first times I performed with the team was at the Elk's Club.  It was on a bright, sunny weekday afternoon.  We lined up outside and then marched single file into a huge dark room.  A haze of smoke hung in the air (this was wayyy before cigarettes were banned from bars & clubs in California).  The center of the room had been cleared for us by crowding the round tables and chairs around the perimeter of the room.  Every chair was occupied by men, most of them with large bellies, heavy jowls, and a cigar or cigarette in hand.  I remember being terrified and not really knowing why.  I didn't yet know the word "leer;" if I had I'd have been able to perfectly describe the way those men were looking at this group of 12 and 13 year old girls in their short skirts and go go boots!

FOR NEXT WEEK: "Describe the grade schools you attended (what were the buildings like, the area; did you walk or bus), and physical descriptions."

Stand Up, Sit Down, Fight, Fight, Fight!

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER: "Do you have a special school memory?"

So many memories come to mind it would be a very long post if I tried to include them all so, since my time is limited today, I'm going to pick just one.

Yes.  It was very difficult to pick just one!

I will say, though, the one I've picked is an all-time favorite.

In 1971 I had just entered Redondo Union High School in Redondo Beach, CA., as a freshman.  Go Seahawks!!!  My BFF, Judy, and I had both tried out for the drill team.  We'd gone to weeks & weeks of after-school practice, performed the routines in front of the leaders & current members of the team, and now the day had rolled around when we'd find out whether or not we'd made the cut.

Each girl who had made it would receive notification during one of her morning classes.  A current member of the drill team would come to the class, hand the teacher a note, and then leave.  The teacher would then read out the name of the girl who'd made the team.

Sounds so nice and personal, right?  True, it was much nicer than everyone crowding around a list and then either squealing happily, or walking away dejectedly, but it did make for a very nerve-wracking morning!  In every class, every time someone walked by in the hall, or came into the room, my heart would pound and I'd wonder, is this it???  And every time it wasn't "it," I would be sure that I hadn't made the team.

Thank goodness I only had to sit on the pins-and-needles through the middle of my second period class.  Geography.  In came a girl dressed in the red-and-white drill team outfit to hand a folded piece of paper to the teacher.

"Well, Miss Hansen," he said, and gave me a smile.  "Looks like you've made the drill team.  That's quite an accomplishment."

Those were his very words, his exact words.  I remember them so well because, not only was I super-excited to have made the team, but they were the only words of praise I ever received from this particular teacher -- I didn't do at all well in his class!

I couldn't wait to see Judy at the mid-morning break which was called "Nutrition" but, based on what we all bought from the vending machines, would have been more aptly named "Junk Food."  The minute I saw her, though, I could tell by her expression that she hadn't yet gotten her own good news. I tried to reassure her; there were still two more classes before lunch.

As I remember it, Judy and I had 4th period together, the last class before lunch. I don't remember the subject of the class, I want to say History, but I'm really not sure.  At any rate, I can recall how sad Judy was in class that day, because third period had come and gone, and now it was fourth period, her last chance to get notified, and by then she had pretty much convinced herself that she hadn't made the team.

I was bummed, too, because I couldn't imagine drill team being even remotely as much fun without Judy there, too; after all, we did everything together! We'd spent hours in our yards practicing the try-out routines and encouraging each other, and it was just inconceivable that we hadn't both made it, we both knew those routines perfectly!  We'd even already learned most of the cheers that we'd be screaming from the bleachers, including this one:

Lean to the left,

Lean to the right,

Stand up,

Sit down,

Fight!  Fight!  Fight!

We'd already made our red-and-white pompoms!

The clock kept ticking relentlessly toward noon, and Judy's head got lower and lower.  I knew how bad she felt, and I felt terrible, too.  It was just unbelievable that we hadn't both been chosen, that we wouldn't be having this very important high school experience together.  If we weren't both on the team I didn't know if I wanted to be on it at all.

I was just beginning to think I'd forego drill team for my freshman year, and then Judy and I could both try out again as sophomores, when the door opened.  Ten minutes before the end of class.  It was a drill team member and in her hand she carried The Note!

If the Los Angeles Harbor Light had burned out we could've just stood Judy up on top of it to keep the ships safe, that's how much she beamed!

NEXT WEEK'S MEMORY JOGGER: "Tell about a frustrating experience you've had with a car."

 

Learning to Drive - Memories of Me Monday

"Tell about how, when and where you learned to drive. Any memorable experiences?"

I took Driver's Ed in high school. In those days, the mid-1970's, it was part of the public school curriculum. We had classroom instruction, learned the basics of behind-the-wheel technique in simulators (which we called "stimulators") then, finally, piled into white sedans in groups of 3 or 4 plus an instructor to practice in the school parking lot and surrounding neighborhood.

We also got to watch really gory movies of car crashes. I guess those were to scare us into behaving once we got our licenses and were out on our own!

My mom and dad both let me practice in the family station wagon, while they sat nervously in the passenger seat. From the start I was a pretty crappy driver. I just didn't get the big picture. I understood the driving laws, from the classroom instruction, but the simulators had done nothing to prepare me for a real car, and my behind-the-wheel time at school was limited to about 15 minutes a couple of times a week for only a few weeks.

The simulators were in a small trailer parked on the school property. We sat in chairs with a steering wheel in front of us and gas and brake pedals at our feet. Projected onto a large screen at the front of the room was a movie of an empty road as seen through the windshield of a moving car. We all pretended we were steering our "cars" along the road, pressing the gas or brake pedals as instructed. I suppose the point of the exercise was just to get the feel of putting our hands and feet on the the wheel and pedals.

I passed the class and a few months before my 16th birthday my mom took me to the DMV to get my learner's permit.

During the driving test, I was so nervous I made a left turn in front of oncoming traffic.

Automatic fail; the test was aborted immediately.

More practice with mom and dad and, as soon as I could I went back at the DMV. I had some additional motivation this time because I had invited a boy to the Sadie Hawkins Dance and I wanted to be able to pick him up.

Nervous again, I was unable to properly execute the 3-point parallel parking maneuver.

Fail!

My dad was incredulous. The next time he took me out driving he noticed that I wasn't looking ahead, but down at the ground in front of the car. He asked me what I was looking at and I told him the line in the middle of the road. I was following it! He told me to keep my eyes on the road ahead. That helped me stay more in the middle of my lane, but I still had trouble negotiating turns and parking. Finally, my dad realized I was having trouble judging distances. A trip to the eye doctor revealed I had very weak vision in my left eye leaving me with virtually no depth perception.

No wonder I'd totally bombed when I took tennis in P.E.! Not to mention the two failed driving tests.

I got glasses and I got my license.


FOR NEXT WEEK! "What tradition at Christmas is your very favorite?"

What Kind of Teenager Were You?

Age 8 - The Good Girl

Age 16 - The Demon Child
{looks can be so deceiving!}

Today's Memories of Me Monday: "What kind of a teenager were you? Nice, rebellious, etc.?"

I think I can sum myself up as a teenager in one word --> TYPICAL.

And that's all I have to say about that!

Ok, I guess that would be taking the easy way out!

So here's a list of words that describe me during the ages of 13 to 18:

Happy
Sad
Helpful
Stubborn
Friendly
Solitary
Funny
Mean
Grateful
Hateful
Sweet
Sassy
Honest
Sneaky
Obedient
Rebellious
Creative
Apathetic
Joyful
Gloomy
Teachable
Resistant
Neat
Sloppy
Loving
Uncaring
Affectionate
Cold
Optimistic
Gloomy
Stable
Moody
Hard-working
Lazy

As I said - TYPICAL!

I'm sure my parents were continually shocked and appalled by the changes in me once I reached the teen years. I had been such a good little girl! Eager to please, obedient, helpful, and a good student.

Suddenly, I was lying, skipping school, sneaking out at night, running away from home, hitchhiking, chasing boys, experimenting with drugs & alcohol, smoking, and yeah, I even spent a night in Juvie.

It's a bit embarrassing now. Some of my biggest regrets are from that time period. Luckily, I was just skimming the surface of those activities, and I didn't get addicted to drugs or cigarettes, become a homeless runaway, turn to prostitution, or drop out of school.

In the end, I and my parents both survived those years. We can even laugh about them now - mostly. My mom likes to sum it up like this: I was the type of teenager who would nod yes, ok, of course, agreeing to everything she told me to do, not to do, etc. And then I'd just quietly go do as I pleased.

My dad wrote about me in his own life history (a work in progress): "Our second born was such a sweet child." Then. later, "In spite of a firm belief in her own code of good behavior, she could sometimes be led astray."

To date, my dad's life history ends with that second sentence. I hope I wasn't so terrible that he can't even bear to write about it!

Yeah, I know. You want more details. Names, dates, places, the nitty-gritty, the dirty laundry, a complete confession.

To quote the Wicked Witch of the West: "All in good time, my pretty, all in good time....!"


FOR NEXT WEEK: "Tell about how you feel about water -- playing in it -- seeing it -- tell about the various bodies of water you have seen and an experience or feeling about each."