The Light in My Heart

by Jerry Rosendorn

  Another event occurred during that same school year. On November 22, 1963, while sitting in my Spanish class, word came over the school’s public address system that President Kennedy had been shot. We were all in shock; many of the girls started crying. It was a day I’ll never forget; it felt like innocence left my world.

  My last year at Madison was great; my classmates and I were the “kings” of the school. Back then, junior high school ran from seventh through ninth grade. In the ninth grade, we had our own “Ninth Grade Court;” a special fenced-in area of the cafeteria. With a jukebox and tables, it felt like we belonged to a country club.

  During my years at Madison, I was not only a very good student; I was involved in student government and played on the ninth-grade basketball and volleyball teams. Toward the end of the ninth-grade school year, the editor of the school paper approached me with his idea to highlight me in the next edition as “Student of the Month.” As part of the interview, he asked me what I wanted to do after I finished school. Without hesitation, I said, “I want to be a lawyer.”

  Once, at an early age, when my aunt asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told her, “I want to be a policeman or fireman;” I had been influenced by the images I saw on television. But my mother had other plans for me; when she overhead me, she immediately corrected me, “No, Jake, you should be a lawyer.”

  Never having heard the word ‘lawyer’ before, I asked, “What’s that?”

  She responded in a way to honor the noble profession by saying, “A lawyer helps people.”

  Helping people sounded good to me, from then on, whenever I was asked about my future, I always answered as if my career was already “set in stone.” “I want to be a lawyer.”

  Something else occurred in the ninth grade. A new girl came to our school from New York City. Her name was Teresa, but she went by her nickname and middle name: Terry Jane.

  Chapter 6

  Dr. Fox had more grist for her mill, “Again you lied to your parents when you didn’t tell them you were going to Sandy’s house.”

  I didn’t need to respond. Her continuing message was “loud and clear” as she stared at me for a long time.

  She eased when she transitioned to another subject, “What did you take away from your relationship with Sandy?”

  I smiled back, thinking it’s time for a little levity. “Don’t trust girls?”

  She shook her head letting me know I wasn’t funny. “Jake, you saw a loving positive relationship. Remember how you described her parents? How they kissed each other? How they walked hand-in-hand? Those were nice images for you. You’ve never described your parents that way.”

  “I agree, Dr. Fox; it was nice, I liked them. Her parents, especially her father, were kind and respectful to me. I felt like a real person around him; he always asked me how I was doing.”

  “Trust,” as she said it slowly, pausing for emphasis. “Since this may be an on-going discussion with us, I want you to think about issues like: How did Sandy affect your trust? And, more importantly, how the girls, then the women who followed, affect your ability to trust and to be trustworthy?”

  She paused, letting me think about her point. With her pen in hand, she made a few notes and then continued, “Tell me how you felt when you found out about Ron and Sandy.”

  “I lost my friend,” I said, retrieving my feeling from a forgotten vault. “Sandy wasn’t very pretty and my heart rate didn’t rise at the sight of her, but she made me feel good. I enjoyed talking to her; she always listened to me. I was happy when we talked.”

  I saw a faint smile line on Dr. Fox’s face.

  “Jake, I’m encouraged. You’re showing some character in the way you describe this relationship. You were young; far from a point in your life where you’d realize the important components of a good relationship, but you were mature enough to sense the loss and identify the good communication that took place between you and Sandy.”

  I didn’t want to mislead Dr. Fox. “I wish I could say I was always motivated to find such a relationship. Later, how a woman looked became important to me. I lost a friend with Sandy, but today I wouldn’t give her a second look.”

  “Jake, you’ll miss out on women who can bring so much to a relationship by ignoring them and not looking beneath their surface. Conversely, just because a woman has a beautiful surface, doesn’t mean she has a beautiful soul.”

  Again, Dr. Fox paused, concentrating on her writing pad. This pause gave me a few minutes to think about what she’d just said.

  Dr. Fox removed her glasses and then stared into my eyes with a new inquiry. “I want to change gears since you raised my curiosity about the girl you described from your earlier days in junior high school. What was her name again?” She asked looking at her pad, then finding the note: “Sharon.”

  As I felt the blood rush to my face; I knew she noticed. “Yes, Sharon,” I said softly, steadying myself.

  Again, I saw a now familiar look on her face like she understood what makes me tick. “You describe her as though you were hit by Cupid’s arrow every time you saw her. Was she like the fruit in the Garden of Eden? Jake, you know what I mean, the forbidden fruit?”

  I gave her a slight nod.

  Dr. Fox paused again to search her thoughts.

  “Maybe I’m overstating this. Could she be an important person in your life or just someone you judged on the surface?”

  There was a long silence as her words were lingering in my mind. Then, I smiled knowing I might have misled her about Sharon. “Dr. Fox, there is a little more to the story about Sharon. She’ll come up again when I get to my high school years.” Though I wished there’d been a whole lot more.

  Chapter 7

  1965

  Even though Terry Jane didn’t have a pretty face, her charm and smile drew me toward her. But, with her heavy New York accent, she was often difficult to understand. A few weeks after I met her, I ran into her at a park near my house. With her accent, I thought she said to me, “I can’t believe your hair.”

  I couldn’t figure out why she’d make a comment like that to me.

  So, I asked her, “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  She jerked her head back; looking at me equally confused. Then, she burst into laughter.

  “No,” she said and then continued with an exaggerated pronunciation of each word to bypass her strong accent. “Not your hair. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  When I finally got it, we both had a good laugh and I started to stare at her inviting smile.

  “Terry Jane, I may need an interpreter when I talk to you.”

  She continued to smile.

  Terry Jane, her brother Suds, and their parents lived several blocks from me in an apartment located between my house and school.

  Suds was an unusual kid who’d worked as a bat boy for the Los Angeles Dodgers. While working in the Dodgers’ clubhouse, he helped himself to bats, balls, and other Dodgers’ paraphernalia. There was a rumor going around my school that while Suds was sitting center court at the Sports Arena for a Lakers game, he took out a ref’s whistle and blew it causing play to stop. I don’t know if this story was true or not, but it was the envy among the boys in my class.

  Terry Jane started school in September of the ninth grade, but I didn’t meet her until January. Right from the start of the school year, a few of the girls in my class had been talking about a new girl from New York with a great personality.

  Just like Sandy, Terry Jane told some girls she was interested in me. After hearing the news, I began meeting Terry Jane after each of her classes; walking with her to the next one.

  After Terry Jane got my telephone number from a friend, she called me on a Friday afternoon asking if I could meet her at a friend’s house. She was spending the night with her friend Patricia, whose boyfriend Bill was coming over that Friday night. Bill
was sixteen; he had his driver’s license and the use of his parents’ car.

  When the phone rang that night, I answered it after the first ring expecting a call from a friend; instead, I was surprised to hear Terry Jane’s voice. Since I didn’t want the ostriches to know I was talking to a girl, I spoke softly.

  After we said “hello,” I asked Terry Jane why she was calling me.

  “I’m at Patricia’s house,” Terry Jane answered in a commanding tone. “Her parents are gone. Can you come over?”

  An incredible gift had just been dropped into my lap, yet, I hesitated. Even though I wanted to go see her, I had to figure out a way to get out of my house. If I told my parents I wanted to meet Terry Jane at Patricia’s house, they’d forbid me. If I added that Patricia’s parents weren’t home, they’d lock me away until I was twenty-one.

  I had to come up with a plan; I needed some time to figure this out. I asked Terry Jane for Patricia’s phone number; telling her I’d call back in a few minutes.

  With some creative thinking, an idea came to me. In the Valley, there was a local chapter of De Molay established by the Order of Masons to build fraternity and good character in young men through fraternal rites and sports. Some of the boys at my school belonged to this organization; they often played poker and participated in softball competitions with other chapters. The Masons must have believed poker was a character building game.

  I told my mother that Bill, the older brother of a new friend from school, belonged to De Molay and invited me to come to the Masonic Temple to see if I wanted to join. I told her that the chapter was hosting a one-cent poker game to bring in new candidates and that Bill was a responsible driver who would take me to the temple.

  “Okay,” she said, having swallowed the tall tale. “But, be home by nine o’clock.”

  Our only phone was in my parents’ bedroom; a few feet away from the living room where they were watching television. In a hushed voice, I called Terry Jane to tell her I could come to Patricia’s house, but I needed a ride from Bill. She said she’d already made those arrangements; asking for directions to my house. Terry Jane then instructed me to be in front of my house in thirty minutes.

  Once the plans were made, I went to my bathroom for some last minute grooming. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and shaved off the three or four whiskers sprouting from my face. Then, I changed into my most bled madras shirt and a clean pair of blue jeans. There was nothing left for me to do, but wait for Bill.

  Those thirty minutes ticked off at a snail’s pace; I waited in my room and paced. Thankfully, Bill was on time and we drove to Patricia’s house. When we arrived, I felt butterflies in my stomach; I was so nervous walking into the house.

  As I walked through the front door, I spotted Terry Jane waiting for me in the living room wearing a white blouse and dark pants. Because I was shy, I waited to greet her; I looked around to see if Bill and Patricia were watching me. After my eyes circled the room, I realized they’d left; I was alone with Terry Jane.

  She must have thought I was disoriented; she directed me to follow her out to the backyard. Once outside, Terry Jane motioned for me to sit with her on the pool’s diving board.

  We talked about how she grew up in New York; always wanting to come to California. She told me the kids in New York always talked about the great weather in LA; how they thought all the LA kids hung out at the beach and surfed. After talking about life in New York, she grew a little somber telling how her father lost his job. He worked as a salesman for a company in Manhattan; selling clothing manufactured in the United States. Then, with all of the competition from Asia, the company went out of business which put her family in a panic; they always lived from paycheck-to-paycheck.

  “After my father lost his job, my mother and I had a heart-to-heart talk. She said we never had any savings and couldn’t buy a house. Things looked bad for my family.”

  Because of my parent’s concerns over money, I was concerned for her family. Yet, I felt good she was confiding in me; I let her know I understood.

  “I’m sorry, Terry Jane,” I said. “What did your family do?”

  Terry Jane gave me an appreciative nod.

  “My mother said we got a gift from heaven. One of my uncles had moved to LA a few years ago and heard about a sales job with a company here. It turned out the company was representing a line of clothes made in Asia. My dad called the company; they asked him to come out to LA for an interview. Within two days, he met with the president of the company. He was offered a job at almost the same salary he was making in New York. The president encouraged my father to use the phone in his office to call my mother who let out a scream when she heard the offer. My father accepted the position and within one month we moved here. That was in June; in September, I started school at Madison.”

  As Terry Jane told me this story, I felt an immediate kinship with her and the need to touch her, so I inched my right hand toward her left hand. As I touched her, she took hold of my hand and interlaced our fingers; the sensation was comforting. As I held her hand tightly, a warm emotional feeling spread throughout my body. I wanted more contact with her, so I leaned forward and put my lips on hers; she responded by kissing me back. For me, it was my first kiss, but I had a feeling she had previous experience.

  As we kissed, I moved toward her and firmly wrapped my arms around her. My entire body was exploding with sensations from every nerve ending.

  We sat on the diving board for quite some time; I was in my own private heaven with Terry Jane.

  Suddenly, I remembered my curfew. I looked down at my watch; it was getting close to nine o’clock. I needed to be home on time so my parents wouldn’t distrust me in the future. I felt nervous and embarrassed having to tell Terry Jane I had a curfew. She struck me as being very sophisticated; I didn’t want her to think I was a child.

  I told her I need to find Bill; I needed a ride home.

  “Why do you have to leave so soon?” she asked, giving me a bit of a hard time.

  “I have to get up early tomorrow morning, I’m doing something with my dad,” I lied.

  She looked at me and nodded before saying, “By the way, next time you have to call me if you want to go out on a date. I‘m not in the habit of calling boys to ask them out, they need to call me.”

  It took me by surprise she considered this a date. I felt like an adult; I’d been out on a date.

  I yelled for Bill, “Hey Bill, I need to get a ride home.” He quickly appeared and agreed to take me.

  We didn’t talk in the car; I was preoccupied with replaying what had happened with Terry Jane. I kept imaging our hands together, the closeness of our hug, and the kiss that was still lingering on my lips.

  That night, I tossed and turned all the while pretending that my pillow was Terry Jane; I held it tightly all night.

  After this wonderful evening, I wanted to nail down my relationship and ask Terry Jane to go steady. But, I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Needing advice on the “going steady protocol,” I asked one of my female friends at school.

  “I want to go steady with Terry Jane,” I said. “Please tell me what to do?”

  “The first thing you have to do is buy her a piece of jewelry,” she said with an air of authority. “Each month has a birthstone; you can buy a necklace with that stone. When you give it to her, say something like, ‘Terry Jane, will you please go steady with me?’ Of course, she will say, ‘Yes’. Once you are going steady, she will wear the necklace every day at school. All the other kids will then know you’re an ‘item.’ That’s all you have to do.”

  It sounded like a serious proposition. I asked my friend if going steady meant we would end up getting married.

  “Maybe,” she said, wrinkling her brow, “or, you’ll end up breaking up like everyone else.”

  That didn’t sound reassuring. But, the important thing was I
needed a commitment from her; I wanted Terry Jane to be mine so she wouldn’t go out with other guys. Thinking about Sandy; I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. I was convinced this would solve it.

  The following Saturday, I rode my bike to Van Nuys Boulevard. My heart was beating as fast as my feet were pedaling. I was full of nervous energy; I couldn’t wait to get to one of the department stores along the Boulevard. I stopped at the first store I came to and went inside. A sign marked “JEWELRY” beckoned me toward the back of the store where I found a display counter with necklaces, rings, and watches.

  I was overwhelmed by the amount of jewelry I saw. Knowing I’d need help, I looked up and found a saleslady standing behind the counter.

  “Excuse me, ah; what is the birthstone for February?” I asked, having learned Terry Jane was born in that month.

  “Amethyst is the birthstone for February,” she said, after checking a chart she pulled from a drawer. “That’s a beautiful stone.”

  I’d never heard of this stone.

  “Do you have a necklace with an amethyst?” I inquired.

  “Yes, we do,” she replied, smiling at me. “Please come around to this end of the counter; I’ll show them to you.”

  She had a variety of necklaces, but only two had an amethyst. She handed them both to me. One caught my eye.

  “How much does this one cost?”

  “Let me see,” she said turning over the cardboard packaging to find the price. She looked up at me and said, “This one is five dollars.”

  I immediately checked my pocket; I had five singles and some change. I felt relieved, until I remembered that I would have to pay sales tax, so I asked her for the total cost. Fortunately, I had enough money.

  I was beaming when I told her I’d take it.

  The saleslady smiled and rang up the sale. She took the necklace off the cardboard, placing it in a small box. She then put the box in a small paper bag and handed it to me. I left the store clutching my treasured gift.