As joyful and heavenly as my release felt, it soon left me and I found myself confused as to what happened. I turned on my side and looked down at my blue jeans. In the midst of faded blue was an area of darker blue where my explosion struck; the sight of it scared me. I couldn’t let Karen see what happened, so I jumped off the bed and pulled out my shirttail to shield my unwanted trophy from her eyes.
I couldn’t face her and wanted to leave; I thought there was something wrong with me. This feeling grew stronger, pushing me further and further away from her. I couldn’t understand how I wanted to be with Karen one minute and wanted to flee the next. It was a terrible feeling that confused me.
I gave Karen a weak excuse and left.
Chapter 10
“Why did you go to Karen’s house? You had to know what would happen if you went there. Karen gave you plenty of signs she was interested in you; she was more than willing to use her young sexuality to lure you into a relationship. More importantly, why didn’t you tell her the truth about your physical reaction instead of leaving her so abruptly after being so close? You must have left her wondering what she did wrong.”
I remembered how badly I felt when I left Karen’s house that day. The need to leave was so strong, it destroyed every other feeling I had. It was like feeling claustrophobic; I was suffocating from my shame. Even now it’s difficult to relive the event; it left me feeling less of a person.
I looked at Dr. Fox and knew I needed to explore those feelings with her.
“It’s difficult for me to understand why I needed to get away from Karen after she’d shown me so much affection,” I began slowly. “She was tall and pretty with a special smile; but besides her physical features, what I remember most was how kind and caring she was. She made me feel good when I was around her whether we were talking, listening to music, or just being close.
“When I left Karen’s house and rode my bike home, something else crossed my mind. Was I just as bad as Scott and Bob, the two boys who were bragging about their conquests in the junior high school cafeteria? Even though I didn’t tell anyone what happened at Karen’s house, maybe I was using girls like they used their girlfriends?
“My relationship with Karen ended two weeks later. I called and told her I just wanted to be friends.
“She wasn’t happy when I told her, so I assume she never forgave me.”
Dr. Fox gave me an inquiring look and asked, “Why do you assume that?”
I felt so sure of my answer remembering the last time I saw her. “Years later, I saw her in a department store walking toward me. As we drew closer to each other, she altered her course away from me. It made me feel bad remembering how deeply I must have hurt her. After all, she obviously cared for me and I rejected her.”
Dr. Fox looked down to collect her thoughts. After making a few notes, she offered me some advice.
“It’s interesting how you turned your thoughts from not being able to deal with the affection you experienced with Karen, to thoughts that maybe you were using her.”
She paused to emphasize her point. When she saw I was listening, she continued, “It seems you were moving quite fast from being hurt by Terry Jane to asking Karen to invite you over to her house. Why were you moving so quickly?”
I hadn’t thought about this. As I sat in her office, it strengthened my feeling that I might have been using her. “Dr. Fox, I hadn’t thought about this; I feel weird about what I did. On one hand, I was hurting from my break up with Terry Jane; yet, I see now that within a short period of time, I was moving on to be with Karen. Why did I do it? Was my ego so deflated that I needed a quick fix from Karen?
“Karen was really a good person. If I met her today, I would like to get to know her. I feel terrible about the way I handled this; I don’t blame her for being mad at me.”
Dr. Fox was quiet as she let me stumble my way through this. Then she gave me some direction with her next comments. “The fact is you knew how to be kind and caring to someone. We see that in your relationship with Terry Jane, and then again with Karen when you sat with her and talked about music. But, what’s important about your encounter with Karen is the same thing that is important in your adult life: A relationship quickly built upon sex can create a hollow relationship.”
She stopped to emphasize this issue. “Sex without a loving emotional bond is empty. If you had an emotional bond, you would have shown your wet pants to her and grown closer because you could share the experience. Without a strong emotional bond, an orgasm becomes a hollow experience. Since you couldn’t share with Karen, you felt embarrassed and that is why you left.
“Jake, patience is very important in developing a good relationship. Think about it.”
Chapter 11
1965-1968
The tenth grade was going to be a big challenge. I went from being the “king of the hill” as a ninth grader at Madison to being among the youngest students at Grant High School.
For me, the biggest change was the physical and emotional differences between the students. It’s intimidating to be a tenth grade boy when most of the twelfth grade boys were the size of men. The same could be said for most of the twelfth grade girls who had fully developed figures.
Dating was a problem for a tenth grader. Senior high school girls wanted to date and expected the boys to drive.
Hoping to obtain a learner’s permit when I turned fifteen and one-half; I needed my parents to sign the consent. If they refused, I was stuck since a minor could not get a permit without a parent’s signature.
On the first day of school, after attending an orientation program, I received a list of classes based on my career path. Most courses corresponded to a major course of study. Students who weren’t planning on attending college took basic classes in reading, history, natural sciences and math. Students who were preparing for college followed a different track like biology, physics, advanced math or courses in the humanities as a major. If I wanted to go to medical school, I’d be a science and math major, but if law school was my goal, I’d major in the humanities. Humanities classes included English, history, and other social studies.
After the orientation, I shared the course requirements with my father. As a school teacher, I figured he would validate my choice to major in humanities. Instead, his response took me completely by surprise.
“Shoot for the best,” he advised. “Be a science and math major.”
I was shocked. I had talked about becoming a lawyer since the age of six. Evidently, he had his own plans for me along the lines of, “My son, the doctor.”
I was torn between my long time desire to become an attorney or follow my father’s advice. Since wanting to please him was important, I signed up to major in science and math.
What a disaster! I had to take geometry and biology in the tenth grade with requirements for physics, trigonometry and calculus in my next two years of high school. And, as if that wasn’t challenging enough, he talked me into taking Latin as well. These classes were a constant struggle for me; I hated them.
As a result of following my father’s advice, I learned a valuable lesson: Follow my own dream. At mid-year, I decided to change my major to humanities. I was nervous about telling my father; I knew I’d failed to meet his expectations. That evening, I waited until he had a chance to unwind from his day at work before I approached him in the living room.
“Dad, I want to be a lawyer,” I said nervously. “I don’t like science and math classes; I don’t want to be a doctor. I enjoy English and history; I do well in these subjects. Today, I told my counselor to change my major to humanities.”
He didn’t say a word to me. He saw the determination in my face and knew he couldn’t change my mind; he just nodded.
Aside from the issues concerning my major, I was adjusting to a new school I didn’t like. In junior high school, I enjoyed going to school each day; I walked
down the halls with a smile on my face with a feeling that I belonged to a school with a strong sense of community. The Madison students participated in programs; we all had pride in our school. This was not the case at Grant High School.
I also felt uncomfortable not having a girlfriend; I missed having a taste of that companionship.
In the eleventh grade, things turned around for me. I had a solid academic year; I was enjoying my classes and my grades were good. But, I was still failing in the girlfriend department.
It was also an important year for me because my parents finally signed for my learner’s permit so I could take the driver’s training class at school; I was on track to get my driver’s license in December.
My time at Grant was more pleasurable when I saw Sharon. I got to see her as she continued to develop into a beautiful young woman. The sight of her always made my spirits rise; I stared at her every time she walked by. She moved gracefully through the school hallways like a “reed in the wind.”
While taking a few high school classes with Sharon, we began to develop a nice friendship. During one of our conversations, we laughed as we remembered the day I followed her into the circle of greasers gathered on the Madison athletic field.
In the twelfth grade, Sharon met a boy from Israel named Egal who became her steady boyfriend. On graduation day, Sharon and I hugged and wished each other well. It felt good knowing I watched her come into her own from a shy twelve-year-old girl who was sneaking a smoke to an elegant, beautiful, and self-assured young eighteen-year-old woman. Before we went our separate ways, Sharon said she planned to study interior design; I had a strong sense she would succeed.
Chapter 12
“You describe Sharon so beautifully; I’m glad to hear you became friends. There’s something that makes me wonder what truly stirs you about her.”
I smiled as she told me her thoughts about Sharon.
“Dr. Fox, there isn’t a month that goes by I don’t think about her and wonder how she’s doing. The image of talking to her at our graduation remains vivid in my mind. I wish I could see her again just to know that life has been good to her.”
“Do you know anyone who could tell you what happened to her?” Dr. Fox inquired, not giving up on the subject.
“No,” I said shaking my head. “For all I know, she married her boyfriend and is living a happy life.”
Chapter 13
1966
During the winter vacation break from school, my father and I went on a retreat for Jewish teenagers in the mountains near Mt. Baldy located around two hours from Los Angeles. To supplement his teaching salary, my father worked as the youth director at a temple in Beverly Hills. On this outing, he led a United Synagogue Youth group, made up of fifteen-year- olds, to a camp called Scott Haven, named after the camp director’s son. The camp had a full-time summer program plus some limited programs during school breaks in the spring and winter.
Because I was older than the campers, my father thought it would be a good experience for me to be a junior counselor. Since I had no other plans, I agreed to go along for the week-long retreat. Not having any idea what to expect, I thought of this non-paying job as a way to kill time.
At the retreat, a cute and friendly fifteen-year-old girl named Carol from West Covina caught my eye. Whenever we talked, she would touch my arm, making me believe she was interested in what I had to say.
At first, I gave her my best “I’m not too interested look,” but she surprised me by not being put off. Instead, she gave me a welcoming smile and my heart skipped a beat. Over the first days of the retreat, I saw her at various activities and we chatted. As my interest in her grew; I finally invited her to sit with me during meals.
Mealtimes were always fun even though the food was so-so; I enjoyed talking to the fifteen-year-olds at my table. Following dinners, we had discussions about the day’s activities followed by Israeli music and dancing. If I were back home, joining discussion groups, and doing Israeli dancing and singing, would not appeal to me. However, in this camp environment, I was game.
Every time I saw Carol, she smiled and came over to talk to me. We were easily sharing information about our friends and interests.
Toward the end of the retreat, the camp director asked me to take some papers up the hill to a small office in the back part of an old barn. I agreed and set out for the walk. The barn was about three hundred yards from the camp’s main building, and as I hiked up the hill, I saw Carol coming out of another building.
“Hi Carol,” I called out. “I have to take these papers up to an office in the barn. Would you like to take a walk with me?”
“Sure,” she said with her typical big smile.
When we reached the barn, I opened the door and we walked inside. Carol waited near the door as I carefully walked through the dark barn to the adjacent office; I put the papers on the desk and returned to where Carol was standing. Even though there was only limited light, Carol’s figure was visible from the shards of light that entered the barn through the cracks and holes in the plank walls. I stared at her for a few seconds. Then, I moved toward her, took her into my arms, we kissed and held each other tightly.
As though in sync, we moved away from the door and toward the floor; soon Carol was lying across some hay with me lying next to her. The intensity of our kisses continued and my hands started to roam over her small, but shapely body. After her blouse was off, I struggled to unhook her bra. Carol leaned in to help, but my first attempt at bra removal was proving a challenge.
As the last of the three hooks finally came undone, I started to lift the bra from her body when I heard a noise on one side of the building. I put my left hand over Carol’s mouth as I raised my right index finger to my lips. We waited in silence as someone entered the old barn. Carol and I were in a state of high alert; we were frozen in place and held our breath.
Minutes went by as the person moved around, at one point coming within a few feet of us; we must have been out of the person’s sightline.
Then, just as suddenly as that person appeared, he or she was gone leaving us both to thank God we were not discovered. I moved away from Carol allowing her to dress in private.
As we left the barn, one at a time, I was the first to speak, “That was close. Are you okay?”
“Yes. But imagine what would have happened if that person saw us?”
“I’m sorry Carol,” I said, “Please, forgive me. When we get back from this retreat,” I added, “I am going to get my driver’s license; then I want to come out to West Covina and see you.”
I did want to see her again, and actually, I wanted to go right back to where we were just a few minutes ago. I was so excited that I’d come so close to taking off my first bra; I was craving to be with her again.
That night was the last night of the retreat and everyone was instructed to come to the main lecture hall to hear a speaker from the office of the Israeli Consulate. As we assembled, the director of the camp stepped up to the podium.
“Campers, I need your attention,” he said in a serious tone we hadn’t heard before. “We have an extremely important issue to discuss tonight; so important that I canceled our speaker.”
He paused for a moment.
“Two of our campers have violated Camp Scott Haven rules,” he stated, “one boy and one girl. I am asking you to help us decide how to handle these fellow campers.”
The campers turned and searched the room trying to figure out the offenders. Some of them eyed me because I had been seen talking to Carol during the retreat.
I was sweating at the very thought that Carol and I had been found out.
“Today,” the director continued, “A member of the Scott Haven staff found a boy camper and a girl camper alone in a room at this camp and a part of her clothing was off.”
The campers reacted with loud gasps followed by anxious whispering.
Were Carol and I going to be exposed publicly? Did my father already know? I could never face him again.
More campers’ eyes were now staring at me. I wanted to stand up and shout, “I’m so sorry. I only meant to kiss her.”
The director quieted everyone and became quite stern.
“What are we going to do with these campers?” he asked. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Hands started flying in the air. The sentiments being expressed seemed to be in agreement that the violators should be expelled immediately from the camp and from their temple programs. To me, these punishments seemed harsh.
Suddenly, as though my guardian angel appeared, a girl in the front row, who I hardly knew, stood up and started crying.
“It was me,” she confessed. “I can’t stand it, I’m so sorry. I will never do it again. Please don’t expel me.”
She turned and fled the room. While I felt badly for her, I was limp with relief that Carol and I had not been found out. I’d seen the girl every day of the retreat hanging around a tall good-looking boy. Before this moment, I thought they were ideal campers, but now we were faced with exacting a penalty on them and I felt extremely uncomfortable.
Once the offenders were revealed, the discussions of penalties softened into less traumatic solutions like counseling and forgiveness. The discussion went on for about an hour. After most of the ideas were exhausted, the director eased his stern look and spoke again.
The Light in My Heart Page 6