Inaccrochable
How much validity is there in the idea that a piece of literature (or art) can be, as Gertrude Stein supposedly once said of Ernest Hemingway's early short story 'Up in Michigan,' "inaccrochable" - that is, "like a picture that a painter paints and then he cannot hang it when he has a show and nobody will buy it because they cannot hang it either"?
...from 'A Moveable Feast'
Well, here is my inaccorachable story about being sweet 16.
It was sometime in our senior year in High School. I don't remember when but warm sunny days and cool evenings were the norm. I do remember that by that point in the year most of us at Paly had a drivers license and being from Palo Alto we also had access to cars. The world awaited us, especially Half Moon Bay. Plus, it was Friday - date night if a girl was lucky enough to have one.
During that period of time I was dating Eric Wright who, in retrospect I now realize, was a kind, decent fellow. Eric took part in football, track and field, got good grades, was shy and tentative around girls yet horny and curious about sex like most of us in our class. He also had braces at the time. And, he was good friends with our class president Benny Kwong and his girlfriend Jann Van Valkenberg so we often double dated.
I was friends with Ben aside from my two month relationship with Eric. We were School Officers and got to know each other because we shared office together in a dark, windowless room on one side of the stage of the ampitheatrer at Paly. I was Social Commissioner and Ben, who was ... then and has turned out to be Paly Prez for Life for class of 60.
If I remember correctly we may have had a free class, called a study hall, at the same time which really meant we hung out in that horrible smelly room thinking we were cool and complaining about the bands the school made us hire for a dances and other school administrative matters. Both Ben and I loved the Wolfman so after exhausting our daily digest of musical admiration and administration blues he studied while I day dreamed. For me, that year, it just plain hurt to think much less study because I just wanted everything to be normal again and I knew it never would.
That year Ben loved Jann Van V. She would come into our office to see Ben. I remember little about her, other than I thought she was smart (as in she got good grades) and sometimes I would catch them kissing or making out as we called it. If I am honest with myself, I probably thought they were pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior. In Hindsight they were just being 16 and exploring that animal magnetism we all flirted with while I was reflecting my take on the norms of the 50's.
The Friday in question the guys somehow managed to get two six packs of beer and off we went in Eric's father's car to our own beach party at Half Moon Bay. The boys had planned it well - beer, chips, matches, paper, flashlights, towels and blankets. I think they may have even brought condoms but I never found out. Perhaps Eric showed them to me, or told me Ben and Jann used them or were going to use them, because the residual memory remains.
The funny thing is that I no longer remember the specific beach we went to; the landscape of the California coast has changed dramatically as I have. Houses now live where the artichoke, straw flowers and pumpkin fields once flourished.
I do remember that we arrived well after dark and carted all our supplies down to the beach and promptly all agreed look for dry driftwood for the fire. After several smoky starts the guys built a roaring bonfire. We started drinking acapella. No music after we turned off the sounds of Wolfman Jack in the car; it was before portable sounds. But we did look at the stars and talk, Eric knew the constellations and Benny could always spin a good tale.
Ben and Jan, looking at each other with pregnant pauses soon announced they were walking down the beach and off they went with beer and blankets to do whatever they did. I have always wondered if they "were doing it" already or if that night was the night. Back then we all often wondered if each other had taken the leap. I know I was sure curious about sex but was more terrified of getting pregnant - remember this is before THE PILL - and I sure as heck wanted to get out of Palo Alto and knew I wouldn't if I was pregnant or with child.
Suddenly it was quiet, uncomfortably quiet for me. Eric was never a big talker in those days although he must have found his voice because he became a law professor at University of Santa Clara. I was always chatty, especially when I got nervous and insecure which was frequent in those days. Well, we lay back on the blankets and after awhile we kissed (although it hurt because of his braces) and he started to explore other parts "feeling me up" with me giggling and occasionally slapping his hand when he strayed too far. Because it was getting cold we snuggled deeper under the blankets next to the fire. I had no idea what I was doing and I doubt Eric did either. The playful innocent foreplay was so erotic but we were such innocents.
I can't remember how long we were in this teenage erotic space but we were afloat from the beer and we both were equally aroused under the covers. The next thing I remember is a flash light in my face. Initially I thought it was Ben and Jann but it was the COPS and two of them! Yelling: "All right kids, what the hell do you think you are doing? Put your clothes on and go home!"
We stood up stunned. " But we do have our clothes on" we said in unison.
Eric blushed. I was numb, embarrassed and disbelieving. This can't be happening to me I kept thinking. Then they saw the empty beer cans. One of the cops lost it. He yelled at both of us about drinking underage. He yelled at me about the importance of being a "nice" girl, asked me if my parents knew what I was doing, said he was going to call them. I begged him not to call because my father had died and my mother already had too much to deal with. He doubled back and told me how horrible I was to do this to my mother (talk about GUILT). Then, he turned on Eric and tried to get him to tell them who bought the beer for us. The other cop looked at Eric's license and realized he lived at Stanford. He said, writing Eric's name in his book, that if he ever found him again drinking underage and taking advantage of a young girl, he would make sure he wouldn't go to university. I imagine for Eric that must have been humiliating and terrifying, especially because his father taught at Stanford and as I remember was very serious man and not prone to forgiveness.
We started to pack up, I had the shakes I was so scared as the police walked back to their car up the path from the beach. They told us they would wait in their car for us in the parking lot. There was no sign of Ben and Jann! We didn't know whether to try and look but if we did we were afraid we would find them in a compromised state and Eric said we could get them in trouble too. We tentatively called them "Ben, Jann...Ben Jann" as we very slowly collected our supplies.
Although it seemed like an eternity the miscreants soon turned up, laughing and carrying on, very pleased with themselves, disheveled and sandy. There was a long silence when Eric told them what had happened to us and an equally long silent ride home. The police followed us back over the hill to make sure we did go back toward our homes. When we got back to Palo Alto one of us said to the others (I no longer remember who) "no one can no what happened, don't tell anybody".
Eric called the next day, but in the aftermath of the evening's events he looked different to me. I was furious with Ben and Jann because I figured they would have been more compromised than we were and in my anger felt they deserved (obviously more than I was) to be caught. I was embarrassed, felt ashamed of my behavior, and worse, even more guilty about my thoughts and accusations.
Mother knew something had happened but she didn't know what and didn't ask. I refused to speak to Eric and spent the rest of the year distancing myself from Ben and Jann. Years later, when I lived at Slide Ranch, I saw Eric at a Nature Conservancy event and while awkward we hugged like old friends. Even later I would see Ben more occasionally when I would visit mother but I don't think I have ever spoken more than a few words to Jann since that night.
Looking back at the evening's tableau what strikes me, other than my ingestion the mores of the 50's was my complete insensitivity to Eric's humiliation that was equal to mine and my displaced anger at Ben and Jann. It all seems so sweetly silly now but was so important then.
PS. I showed a draft of this to Mary because - well just because - it is a layer deeper in our collective relationship and is about sex, always a challenging topic. She wrote me back saying,
...from 'A Moveable Feast'
Well, here is my inaccorachable story about being sweet 16.
It was sometime in our senior year in High School. I don't remember when but warm sunny days and cool evenings were the norm. I do remember that by that point in the year most of us at Paly had a drivers license and being from Palo Alto we also had access to cars. The world awaited us, especially Half Moon Bay. Plus, it was Friday - date night if a girl was lucky enough to have one.
During that period of time I was dating Eric Wright who, in retrospect I now realize, was a kind, decent fellow. Eric took part in football, track and field, got good grades, was shy and tentative around girls yet horny and curious about sex like most of us in our class. He also had braces at the time. And, he was good friends with our class president Benny Kwong and his girlfriend Jann Van Valkenberg so we often double dated.
I was friends with Ben aside from my two month relationship with Eric. We were School Officers and got to know each other because we shared office together in a dark, windowless room on one side of the stage of the ampitheatrer at Paly. I was Social Commissioner and Ben, who was ... then and has turned out to be Paly Prez for Life for class of 60.
If I remember correctly we may have had a free class, called a study hall, at the same time which really meant we hung out in that horrible smelly room thinking we were cool and complaining about the bands the school made us hire for a dances and other school administrative matters. Both Ben and I loved the Wolfman so after exhausting our daily digest of musical admiration and administration blues he studied while I day dreamed. For me, that year, it just plain hurt to think much less study because I just wanted everything to be normal again and I knew it never would.
That year Ben loved Jann Van V. She would come into our office to see Ben. I remember little about her, other than I thought she was smart (as in she got good grades) and sometimes I would catch them kissing or making out as we called it. If I am honest with myself, I probably thought they were pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior. In Hindsight they were just being 16 and exploring that animal magnetism we all flirted with while I was reflecting my take on the norms of the 50's.
The Friday in question the guys somehow managed to get two six packs of beer and off we went in Eric's father's car to our own beach party at Half Moon Bay. The boys had planned it well - beer, chips, matches, paper, flashlights, towels and blankets. I think they may have even brought condoms but I never found out. Perhaps Eric showed them to me, or told me Ben and Jann used them or were going to use them, because the residual memory remains.
The funny thing is that I no longer remember the specific beach we went to; the landscape of the California coast has changed dramatically as I have. Houses now live where the artichoke, straw flowers and pumpkin fields once flourished.
I do remember that we arrived well after dark and carted all our supplies down to the beach and promptly all agreed look for dry driftwood for the fire. After several smoky starts the guys built a roaring bonfire. We started drinking acapella. No music after we turned off the sounds of Wolfman Jack in the car; it was before portable sounds. But we did look at the stars and talk, Eric knew the constellations and Benny could always spin a good tale.
Ben and Jan, looking at each other with pregnant pauses soon announced they were walking down the beach and off they went with beer and blankets to do whatever they did. I have always wondered if they "were doing it" already or if that night was the night. Back then we all often wondered if each other had taken the leap. I know I was sure curious about sex but was more terrified of getting pregnant - remember this is before THE PILL - and I sure as heck wanted to get out of Palo Alto and knew I wouldn't if I was pregnant or with child.
Suddenly it was quiet, uncomfortably quiet for me. Eric was never a big talker in those days although he must have found his voice because he became a law professor at University of Santa Clara. I was always chatty, especially when I got nervous and insecure which was frequent in those days. Well, we lay back on the blankets and after awhile we kissed (although it hurt because of his braces) and he started to explore other parts "feeling me up" with me giggling and occasionally slapping his hand when he strayed too far. Because it was getting cold we snuggled deeper under the blankets next to the fire. I had no idea what I was doing and I doubt Eric did either. The playful innocent foreplay was so erotic but we were such innocents.
I can't remember how long we were in this teenage erotic space but we were afloat from the beer and we both were equally aroused under the covers. The next thing I remember is a flash light in my face. Initially I thought it was Ben and Jann but it was the COPS and two of them! Yelling: "All right kids, what the hell do you think you are doing? Put your clothes on and go home!"
We stood up stunned. " But we do have our clothes on" we said in unison.
Eric blushed. I was numb, embarrassed and disbelieving. This can't be happening to me I kept thinking. Then they saw the empty beer cans. One of the cops lost it. He yelled at both of us about drinking underage. He yelled at me about the importance of being a "nice" girl, asked me if my parents knew what I was doing, said he was going to call them. I begged him not to call because my father had died and my mother already had too much to deal with. He doubled back and told me how horrible I was to do this to my mother (talk about GUILT). Then, he turned on Eric and tried to get him to tell them who bought the beer for us. The other cop looked at Eric's license and realized he lived at Stanford. He said, writing Eric's name in his book, that if he ever found him again drinking underage and taking advantage of a young girl, he would make sure he wouldn't go to university. I imagine for Eric that must have been humiliating and terrifying, especially because his father taught at Stanford and as I remember was very serious man and not prone to forgiveness.
We started to pack up, I had the shakes I was so scared as the police walked back to their car up the path from the beach. They told us they would wait in their car for us in the parking lot. There was no sign of Ben and Jann! We didn't know whether to try and look but if we did we were afraid we would find them in a compromised state and Eric said we could get them in trouble too. We tentatively called them "Ben, Jann...Ben Jann" as we very slowly collected our supplies.
Although it seemed like an eternity the miscreants soon turned up, laughing and carrying on, very pleased with themselves, disheveled and sandy. There was a long silence when Eric told them what had happened to us and an equally long silent ride home. The police followed us back over the hill to make sure we did go back toward our homes. When we got back to Palo Alto one of us said to the others (I no longer remember who) "no one can no what happened, don't tell anybody".
Eric called the next day, but in the aftermath of the evening's events he looked different to me. I was furious with Ben and Jann because I figured they would have been more compromised than we were and in my anger felt they deserved (obviously more than I was) to be caught. I was embarrassed, felt ashamed of my behavior, and worse, even more guilty about my thoughts and accusations.
Mother knew something had happened but she didn't know what and didn't ask. I refused to speak to Eric and spent the rest of the year distancing myself from Ben and Jann. Years later, when I lived at Slide Ranch, I saw Eric at a Nature Conservancy event and while awkward we hugged like old friends. Even later I would see Ben more occasionally when I would visit mother but I don't think I have ever spoken more than a few words to Jann since that night.
Looking back at the evening's tableau what strikes me, other than my ingestion the mores of the 50's was my complete insensitivity to Eric's humiliation that was equal to mine and my displaced anger at Ben and Jann. It all seems so sweetly silly now but was so important then.
PS. I showed a draft of this to Mary because - well just because - it is a layer deeper in our collective relationship and is about sex, always a challenging topic. She wrote me back saying,
"...realized he lived at Stanford." Talk about your safety net! Perhaps I misinterpret, but did the cop's tone and approach change perceptibly at that moment? A commentary, I think, on the bubble that protected people like us. Had you been a bunch of Hispanic kids from Sequoia, I bet the treatment would have been different, particularly in the presence of clearly illegal liquor. —not suggesting a long side-track here, just asking if it's a bit misleading to leave out mention to the bubble.
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