You're On Your on Kid, Part Four: More Hurdles

January of 1978 started out with drama. It was pouring down rain and close to midnight when Brother Skippy took a drunken walk on the freeway. He walked up the freeway onramp to the 5 down by Old Town, and staggered into oncoming cars.  His legs were broken in several places, but the skilled doctors at County Hospital put them back together with pins and rods.  His breaking and entering thievery days were clearly over, so he needed a new way to get money without working for it. 

The community colleges were handing out Pell Grants, and there was an additional program that paid you to take Racial justice-themed classes, so he signed up.  Mom thought I should get in on the free money too, so she took me to Mesa College and signed me up for the Pell Grant. Since I enrolled in Chicano Studies class I received some other free money as well. By the end of January, I was a Mesa College student, even though I was a high school dropout, and Skippy spent the days sitting in his wheelchair with a bunch of other freeloading stoners outside the cafeteria, smoking and sharing stories.  

On the first day of Chicano Studies class, I recognized one of my new classmates. He had recently started showing up for choir practice at my church.  After class he came over to introduce himself.  His name was Lou Jack.  He was 20 years old, soft spoken and cleancut. He apparently raided his Dad's closet, because he wore threadbare polyester old man's pants and a raggedy button down short sleeve shirt.  He looked like a dork, but he was very polite.  I figured since he went to church he must be okay.  I would come to regret my assumption in the weeks to come.  I will write a separate story about Lou Jack in a future posting.

I also had been cleaning house for a couple named Jack and Jan who lived down the street for many years.  After they moved into a house in University Heights, Jack would come to pick me up once a week and bring me to his house for a two hour cleaning.  I would also come to regret taking that job.  I will write my story of that experience in the future as well.  

By the end of March, I was not feeling well.  The stress that I had recently endured had worn me down.  I caught a cold that quickly turned into something serious.  I woke up dizzy, coughing, and unable to catch my breath.  Mom finally took me to Kaiser Emergency Room, where I sat for hours in the waiting room until I lost consciousness.  When I came to, I was being wheeled on a gurney to the XRay lab.  I was diagnosed with bilateral bacterial pneumonia, bronchitis, and anemia that was so severe, the doctors thought I may have internal bleeding.  I didn't, I was just undernourished. The Doctor's admonished Mom to feed me better, and then sent me home with antibiotics and iron pills.

   My get well card from the Chancel Choir (yes, I still have it!)

It took me two months to recover.  I spent most of that time on the couch, with Mom cramming me full of foods like yogurt, canned spinach, liver, and chicken.  I had to drop out of Mesa College, of course, but I didn't care.  I didn't feel like I should have been there anyhow.  I was still just a high school dropout. And things were getting way too creepy with Lou Jack.

When graduation time came around at Our Lady of Peace, I hopped on my moped and headed over to campus.  I stood in the back, behind the crowds of happy parents, and watched unnoticed while my former classmates walked up to get their diplomas.  I was sad, but it gave me a bit of closure.  Their time at the school was at an end, and after that final visit, I could finally let go of my sadness and regret.

Summer was spent clowning at Big Oak Ranch with my sister and Vernon the Clown.  I was back to grooming lots of dogs every month.  And I started looking into taking GED prep classes at Midway Adult school. Then, a week before Thanksgiving, Mrs. Woods, one of my grooming customers, had a talk with me.  Mrs. Woods was a social worker.  She knew that I had left school after 11th grade, and wanted to tell me about a new school that could be my ticket to a High School diploma.  The school, Garfield Independent Learning Center, was actually on the same street as Our Lady of Peace, about 5 blocks south.  She knew the principal and told me she would get me an appointment if I wanted.  I said yes please.

I met with Principal Galas the following week and explained my situation.  She was very encouraging.  She believed that three years of college prep high school classes would translate into so many public school credits that I would probably need only one semester of school.  Most of the classes at Garfield were nontraditional.  All you had to do is pick up your textbooks and assignment sheets and work on them until you finished.  And it wouldn't cost me anything. The school was created for pregnant girls and kids that had been expelled from regular high school, she explained.  She recommended that I keep to myself and don't make friends or get involved with any of the boys there.  After what I had just gone through with Lou Jack and Jack, I was in no mood to made any friends. It was good advice and I thanked her for giving me a chance.  All she needed to do was to call up Our Lady of Peace and request the transcripts, and then I could start in January.  That seemed easy enough.  But it wasn't. 

Sister Edward Mary refused to release the transcripts until Mom paid off the unpaid tuition for my 11th grade school year. And once again, Mom didn't care.