My big sister had to go to Summer School the year I was 9 or 10. In my limited experience, "summer school" (along with just being an abomination, kind of like Saturday Catechism for "publics") was for dumb kids who would be "held back" if they didn't spend their precious vacation getting their shit together. But my sister ? No way, man. I decided that it must be different for high schoolers. A bunch of her friends were going to Summer School, too, and they all seemed smart enough. If nothing else, in my family, we were most of us smart and excelled academically. We weren't much for "trading down". I still believe that if you can't keep up, move the hell to the perimeter of the pack. Seriously.
Backtracking a bit here : there was a period of time during which this particular sister took me out with her. A lot. Dates, movies, her boyfriend's house - and now, Summer School. At the time, I felt pretty cool and somewhat flattered : she was so...old, and I was a potentially pesky little sister. But I was smart, had mad observation skills, and, above all, I could keep up. An alpha-in-training. As it happened, I was apparently good company. Who knew ? In the light of today, I now understand ( which is different from acceptance) that I was being babysat. Nothing more. Possible perk for her : I was cute and precocious. Either way, I got to go out a lot. An A-Lister at a tender age.
One of my sister's boyfriends in particular dated us a lot.. He was very nice to me, and we always did interesting things. Like the time he made a cake at this house and only added water to the mix and I said "hey, what about the eggs and stuff ?" He said it was some kind of "Army issue" cake mix and the manufacturer only has people add eggs and oil so they feel like they are actually baking. Wow. Army issue. How cool is my life ?
There was one time when the 3 of us were tooling about town in his VW Bug (Christ - I think all of her friends had a VW bug : one with a Day-Glo painted soup can with a coin slot that said "gas, grass, or ass - nobody rides for free". Don't rattle that can at me, flower child - I'm a kid. I ride free.) Then, without warning, my dates proceeded to spark up some doobage - and I found myself right smack-dab in the middle of some home-grown reefer madness ! Pot panic ! What the fuck ?! Had they lost their God-damned minds ?! Smoking marijuana with me RIGHT THERE ?! I was speechless, and imagining a life of drug addiction and hard prison time. Since they were seemingly oblivious to the absolute peril that had dragged me into - I was forced to take matters into my own chubby little hands. I slammed my eyes shut tight, held my breath, and tried desperately to plug my ears simultaneously. I'd be Goddamned if one scintilla of pot smoke would infiltrate me and/or kill me dead. No sir. War is hell.
But, oh - did the potheads LAUGH at my well-intentioned attempts to stay off drugs. They tried to explain that my extreme measures were unnecessary. I was "safe". Yeah - safe like a fox. Fuck that, hippie boy - pop open the sun roof before I start hallucinating and claw my skin off.
Once again, I find myself automatically and almost unconsciously irritated and exasperated and dismissive with them - as you might be with a fat cousin you see once a year. The adults around me often have this effect . What the hell is wrong with these people ?! I think this a LOT during my formative years - as I sift through all of the intricacies that make adults somehow..grown ups. Try as I might - I just can't shake my skewed view of people who... know better . Am I grown up ? Nah - I still sport baby teeth. Maybe I am a midget. I roll my eyes, let out a dramatic sigh, and aim for giving them one of my best 'exasperated-beyond-my-years' expression. One of my time-honored "go to" looks. Oh, and I believe we DID open the sunroof, thank God. Score one for the Just Say No crowd...
Okay - enough of drug-addled boyfriends - we have Summer School still to finish. It continued on : we had perfect attendance, and we did pretty well on most tests. I was strategically seated between my sister and...the correct answers. I insisted upon, and received, a test paper for each exam. This wasn't so hard - why couldn't these big kids have handled this during the course of the regular school year ? Jesus Christ. But then, I might have missed out on some cool and serious fun. (Never mind that I sat in a math class in this SAME bungalow at the same school 7 years later...not in summer...)
Finally - last day of Summer School !! Bittersweet for my social calendar - but all of our hard work finally paid off. Of course, there would be a celebratory picnic in The Park - it was San Francisco in the 1960's - we had daisy-chain hair wreaths. Although I don't recall being in on any planning for a pot-luck (pun so not intended) - damned if there wasn't a full spread at the Arboretum that afternoon. I'm sure Mom would've baked something if we'd asked. There were a lot of big kids there - some, not even from our class. Dogs, guitars, flowers - you name it, it was happening. Maybe even A Happening.
This part of the Arboretum is like a tiny amphitheater nestled in the woods. I still like to go there. It was a little...dell, hidden by 12-foot tight green hedges. There are rows of benches carved out of big trees, and a podium. Like a secret church. A clandestine meting place for weird groups. A quiet reflective place. Good for pot parties on a sunny summer afternoon.
Yes - something about my mere presence seemed to draw the demon weed to me. Marijuana ? Again ? Still ? Here we go again. Sigh. Only this time, I would freak out quietly. At least we were outdoors, using God's ventilation. This drastically reduced my chances of coma and/or hospitalization.
This isn't my first rodeo, guys... I'm getting used to the sweet smoky smell of addiction and death.
I somehow ended up with some food, and had been forced to eat standing on a bench because someone named Penny's dog was bothering me. Some party. And speaking of Penny - here she came with a plate of home-made brownies ! Be still, my picnic-loving heart ! Dessert - that's what this party was missing !! Maybe it was Army issue brownie mix. She whirls around in her gauzy hippie skirt - delivering treats and humming some mellow shit. Lovely. She approaches the bench (no, not with a sidebar) - and I reach down to the platter. In a flash, she snatches them out of my reach : " None for you !" I'm sorry - none for me ?!
She must be high, denying a child a chocolatey treat at a celebratory summer picnic. Oh, wait - she IS high - and dammit, I would like a brownie, please. I hop down off of my dog-free perch and pursue what I feel is rightfully mine. Then, I see the brownies. For the love of God - there is what appears to be all manner of greenery : grass seems to be sprouting out of the brownie sides. Goddammit - these are fecking POT BROWNIES ?! I look for Candid Camera. Why me ?! Uncanny, really. Give little Trudy strength.
I guess, points for Penny for keeping the baked heavy drugs away from a child. Now, if she'd just get her smelly-ass beatnik dog the hell away from me. Suddenly, I am bone-weary. From the inside out. Summer School is over. I am tired of this party. I'm tired of a lot of things. Maybe I'm just tired.
But, I'm up for it. Whatever it is I'll be doing next. I'm so up for it.
