I sit with an overstrained posture waiting to relax. No time has been allotted to my craving through papers to find notes and journals with poetry forming my self expression. How can I ever get a memoir written?
I want to continue about high school, I had a part time job at the fanciest department store in Rochester, NY: B Forman. I was placed at a front counter where Jewelry was. Such fun and I got to watch various women take the steps down into the store in their elegance. The counter housed mostly costume jewelry, I was part time during the school year, summer seemed for me filled, yet I still worked. I was always going to summer school to raise my grades from a D to a C. I shake my head as I think about it and my ultimate schooling experience which went on and on at least for 13 years or more. College was almost all of what most of my peers talked about and with D’s I was not going to be allowed to be college material.
In High School art was my calling and the fact my mother read all my school books that didn’t help me. She told me what they were about and I was going to agree, my personal interests were elsewhere. Why not? She worked and I worked skating by and skating in the summer programs and learning how to skate as a sport. This was again not going to help me build academic discipline.
I found out later my mother had told people that she had gotten through High School. In truth it was third grade. My mother was so self absorbed, a poor woman who had to just worry about providing for us. I began building other skills in learning and as I walked to school with a girl from England, whose father had taken a sabbatical to come to the US to teach. He took a great interest in me getting educated and learning about who his daughter was walking to school with. A funny little man who was a Chemist. My concern at the time was she was from England where the Beatles were and Rock and Roll, while dancing my way through my teens.
I was continuing my own form of education. While I worked I took an interest in the fact that my favorite Radio station was in the same building where my department store was and I decided to adopt the station. I walked into the reception area with a box of doughnuts to be delivered for the DJ’s.
Before meeting my new English friend I had walked to school with a girl who carried a violin. Ah my musical instrument was my life and how was it going to express itself. Just after the Christmas Holiday a new boy came to our school and he had long hair and was a musician. He was kicked out of school because of his long hair. Imagine?
