Adolescence:
Change and Continuity
Adolescence:
Change and ContinuityEvery teenager is different, but sometimes reading about individual lives reveals both how we're different, but also what we share.
I led a happy middle school life. My best friends were cool. We wore nice clothes, and we always got excited about the first day of class. This was when we could sport the newest look. We would sometimes call each other about what to wear the next day. We all sat together at lunch, talked about the people that we didn't like, made fun of the ones we did. Some days were stressful, walking in, knowing that you were in a fight with one of the girls. When you fought with one, you were fighting with them all. But we always seemed to make up by the end of the day! Having these close friendships in my life gave me self-confidence to run for president of student council for the middle school. My friends and family really encouraged me to go for it, and so I did. The school had an assembly the day they were going to announce the winners for the officers for the student council that next year. Waiting was agony but hearing my name was one of the biggest thrills!
I had this boyfriend in 7th and 8th grade, Jared. I thought he was the love of my life. He would meet me at my locker, and we would talk. He asked me to the school dances and even paid for the ticket. This was the guy that I wanted to kiss in the closet at a party, but I had never gotten the chance. Of course, Jared was not the only guy that I had wanted to kiss. At Heather's house, I got to go into the closet with Keith, and then he was my boyfriend for a while! I never could really make up my mind on which guy I wanted to call my boyfriend. There was Paul, Jim, Jon, Jeff, and a few others. I was a flirt and really enjoyed the attention of all the boys.
I used to get so mad at Cyndi because she would flirt with some of the guys that I thought I liked. But, Cyndi would always be there when I needed her, and she always made me laugh. I do however, remember one specific day that Cyndi was not in a very funny mood. She got very upset in our 8th grade English class, and no one knew why, but I followed her out of class to find out. To my surprise, because she hadn't mentioned it before, Cyndi's parents were getting a divorce. We sat in this small room, and tears were streaming down Cyndi's face. I don't know if I had ever seen her this upset over anything before, but I sat there with her, and hugged her until she calmed down. I even cried that day with her, and looking back it may have been for a number of reasons. I had not really thought about divorce much before, and I know that Cyndi loved both of her parents, as I did mine. Cyndi was my first friend that was going through this, and it was hard.
My parents have always been there for me, and for each other. This one time, when my sister Johanna and I were really young, we sat on the steps listening to our parents yell at each other. That was the first time we asked our parents if they were going to get a divorce. They explained that it was okay for them to argue once in a while to get their feelings out. They always seemed to tell us things in a way we would understand. My parents were very supportive of me and seemed to encourage me to go for the things that I wanted.
In middle school, I was Student Council President. I worked hard at my grades, but I was usually more preoccupied by the extra things, like student council or friends, and boyfriends. The elections always gave me even more confidence and that made me want to get more involved. We were having elections for class president for the freshman class, at the end of 8th grade. I decided to run again and found out that Jared was running against me. That made me a bit angry, and made me want it even more. The results were to be announced during last period, I had science. I was sitting near Cyndi, who had run for treasurer. We both sat there nervous with anticipation. Our names were read as winners, and we jumped up to give each other hugs! That was a time I started feeling that I was a leader. My parents encouraged me to be a leader, and told me never to do things because everyone else was doing it. I really believed them and believed in myself.
Things in high school were new and different. My friends were forever changing. I thought that my friends in 7th and 8th grade were going to be the friends that I kept forever. These were the girls that I had played Barbies with, had many sleep-overs with, went to dances with, rode my bike with, invited to my birthday parties, and trusted with my deepest secrets. After middle school, I was wrapped up in my popular group of friends. I thought they would be there for me whenever I needed them, forever. But I was shocked. I felt lost for a while in those first few weeks of high school, no close friends to call on the phone, or to laugh with in class. I would go to lunch and sit with different people everyday. Looking around the lunch room, I would see my old girlfriends sitting with the upperclassmen guys, and I was so jealous. I sat with the guys in our grade, and they made me laugh, but other people always seemed to be laughing more than me.
What a different person I became after my first year of high school. I remember getting closer to my three best friends, Andrea, Maggie, and Nicole. I went to their Marching Band competitions and be the loudest cheerleader there. We started calling each other more, and making plans to do things on the weekends. I started sitting with these girls at lunch, and we started telling each other about our boyfriends, and who we wanted to go out with. We talked about our hard classes, and what time we had practice till after school. I worked hard at making these new friends and becoming close to them! We got to the point where they considered me one of their group. Where we could share all of our adolescent thoughts and feelings, about everything.
I was into sports, and they were part of the band. We fought about the fact that the band seemed very "cliquey", and I hated that I wasn't accepted in their group. I didn't understand what the big deal was if I wanted to hang out with them; but we got through those fights. We're close today, and I need those women in my life! Andrea is my soul mate. Maggie is very intriguing and deep. Nicole is funny, always coming up with something new! These friendships have taught me a lot about life. They are some of the most unique people I have ever met!
In high school, I was very busy, needing a ride everywhere. In the fall, I was a football cheerleader. I would wear a short skirt in the freezing months of October and November, cheering for our terrible team. In the winter, I swam on the swim team with my dad as my coach. Somehow, my dad always found something to yell at me for, I talked while he did, or made a joke about him. And in the spring, I played lacrosse. This was the most grueling season, with sprints up and down the field. Lacrosse practice was exhausting, but I loved the adrenaline I had for the games. I served on student council, I was an alto in the night choir, I was a "mini lead" in the musicals, and became president of a group that was against drinking and drugs.
Days when I went to school all day, then to lacrosse practice, home for a quick dinner, and drive back to school to go to a short meeting with the student council and then to musical practice for the rest of the night, I didn't get home until 11:00 p.m. Some nights I came home cranky and my parents and I would fight. My room was my escape, and I'd go there to cry whenever things seemed to hard to deal with. My mom would come up and console me, hug me, and I would tell her about my bad practice at lacrosse, or the note I couldn't hit at musical practice. We talked about my break-ups with "the guy of the month", or about not having the guy I really wanted. My parents and my sister were the best. They supported me in the important times. They went to all of my performances for night choir, orchestra, and the musicals. I loved seeing them in the audience, smiling back at me, while I belted out a note, or played the cello. They would tell me the truth when I was great, and when I wasn't.
Johanna and I started to hang out, and I really liked having a sister that I could talk to. She used to be the tag-a-long when we were younger. One time, Cyndi and I wanted to go to the park, just the two of, without a kid sister coming along. When I grew up though, we started going to the mall together, and picking out clothes. She would help me get ready for a formal I was going to; she did my make-up, or fixed the strap on my dress. My first dance that I went to in high school, Jo video taped Travis picking me up, and I wanted to kill her, I was really embarrassed. But when I got home from the dance, I told her all about what happened, moment by moment, and kiss by kiss! We would laugh together when we would drive to McDonald's and blast the music in the car. Then when we got there, we would get out, with the music playing "Dance Naked", and dance around the car, laughing our heads off. She was always good for a hug when I would be fighting with Andrea or got an F on a test. JO always knew when to come in my room, and when not to!
My parents were fun to be around. My dad taught at my high school. I saw my dad in the lunch room just about everyday. If I needed money for a snack, I could just ask dad! However, sometimes my mom and dad would get into my business a little too much. One time, I got a detention, and my teacher decided to tell my dad for me- I wasn't planning on telling him. When I saw him after school that day, dad gave me a look which implied, "I can't believe it, I don't even want to hear about it." A couple of times, my parents would pop in at a dance. One particular drop-in, wouldn't have been so embarrassing, but I was with a guy I really liked. My friends ran up to me yelling, "your parents are here, your parents are here." They never really understood why it was embarrassing, I guess it was an adolescent thing.
My parents loved having people in the house, so whenever my friends and I were just going to hang out at someone's house, we went to my house. My friends would come over, and we would sit up in the family room with my parents and gossip. My parents were always suggesting that I have parties at our house for the Super Bowl, or for a big Penn State game. My mom always had lots of food out, chips, salsa, her famous spinach dip, and veggies! My friends and I would pig out and not really watch the game, talk instead. My dad loved to talk to the guys, (and Nicole), about sports, I guess because he was the only male in the house most of the time. He had to deal with periods and make-up, instead of playing catch or rough housing. (My sister and I loved to beat him up once in a while, though!)
My family ate dinner together every night. My dad always made JO and I answer his favorite question, "tell me one good thing about your day". Even if JO or I were in a bad mood, that made us laugh. Some days I didn't want to answer at all, but he would beg it out of me, and I seemed to feel better afterwards. My parents made family a real priority in my life. Every Sunday, we went to visit my dad's parents who lived in New Jersey. Both sets of grandparents lived kind of far. We celebrated the Jewish holidays with my dad's parents where we ate delicious potato pancakes and brisket. Catholic holidays were spent with my mom's parents. There was always lots of family in and out, visiting at Christmas. On Christmas morning, JO and I would get up early and wait down stairs I loved traveling out to Pittsburgh to see my mom's parents. On the way, we would listen to great singers like Phil Collins, or Lionel Richie, and we would have family sing-alongs! When we got there, JO and I would race to see who could get in the house first to give my grandparents the first hug! My grandparents were so much fun. We played cards and watched lots of TV. Our favorite show to watch was I Love Lucy! It made us laugh until it hurt! The best was when both sets of grandparents were able to visit our house at the same time. All eight of us sat around the dinner table, laughing and telling stories. One time, we decided to do a "wave", have everyone put their hands up as we went around the table. I think I cried, we laughed so hard. We had good times with the whole family together.
I could talk to my grandmothers and mom about everything, including boys. Boys had a major impact on my high school years, not only because I dated them, but because they made me reach out to make new friends. My girlfriends from middle school went to high school and found a group of guys that they choose to hang out with, instead of hanging out with me. When we were freshmen, Cyndi called me one night, asking what I thought about her having sex with her new boyfriend Vince, a junior. I was surprised that this was even a topic of our conversation. I hadn't even started thinking about sex, I guess because I didn't have a long term relationship with a guy to really get me interested in sex. I told Cyndi that I didn't think it was a good idea, I asked, "are you sure you are ready?". A couple weeks later, she informed me that they had done it. This was one of the signs to me that I was growing apart from my old friends. I felt that I didn't belong in that group anymore. I realized though, that I was not the only one not having sex. Andi, Mags and Nik weren't yet, so what was the rush? Andi and Mags both had boyfriends, but when we talked about it, they told me stories of other things they did, other than sex. Nicole and I didn't have boyfriends that we were very close to, but we still loved to talk about the subject! I slept-over Nicole's, and we watched TV in her basement. We used to flip through the channels, and late on Saturday nights, we could find "dirty" movies. They were dirty to us because they had nudity and SEX! We could actually watch these some-what porno's on Nik's TV! I can't believe I wasn't interested in engaging in it myself?! Nik was the first and one of the only people in high school that I admitted to having masturbated. When we confided in each other, this deep dark secret, it was a realization that someone else is like me!! I ended up, however, the last one to have sex, oh well!
I loved having a boyfriend in high school, yet the relationship never lasted very long. My first high school boyfriend was Travis, he was the first boyfriend that I was allowed to have drive me. Travis and I went to the movies together, and hung out at my house. I went to my first high school formal with him, and he kissed me good night. I think my knees gave out a little, enough for me to notice. We sneaked kisses in the hallway, in my dad's office after school, and in Trav's car when he would drive me home. He was so attractive, and I always wanted to be kissing him. We sang in night choir together, and he drove me home at night. We talked for a while outside of my house before I went in to tell my parents about my night. Travis and I had a fun relationship that did not last too long, but I enjoyed it while it lasted.
My sophomore year, I met Zach, who I dated in high school on and off for the next three years. Zach and I were very close, and we spent a lot of time together. We met on the swim team, where we caused the coaches (my dad included), a lot of strife. My dad would give me lectures on not talking while he was, and not giving Zach the wrong idea that I liked him too much. My dad thought that every boy wanted sex, but Zach and I were just friends, at first. We ended up "going out" though. He took me to the movies, where we made out, went to a restaurant to talk, or sat in the car and talked for hours. We went to a lot of parties together, including one Halloween when we dressed up like Hans and Frans. We loved to stay up late and talk on the phone, too. There was this radio program that was on late at night called Dr. Judy. Dr. Judy was an expert on sex. People would call in with their funny sex stories and Dr. Judy gave them advice. We laughed so hard at these people, and we discussed our own sex lives. I learned a lot from him (like how to masturbate, go figure?). Zach and I went to a lot of dances together, but the biggest was my senior prom. This was to be the best night of my high school life. There was a lot of preparation, making the plans with a hundred different people, finding a dress, deciding who would sit at our table, and how we would get to the prom.
I wanted the perfect everything, including date, and I thought Zach would be the right guy. At the time, I was dating this guy Garret, which wasn't a real serious relationship. He was a year older, in college, but we enjoyed each other's company. However, Zach had been my best friend for three years, and an off and on boyfriend, so I asked Zach. I knew he would make my senior prom a night I would never forget, nor want to. I wanted to sit with MY friends, not my date's, I wanted to get beautiful flowers, to be able to dance with all of my friends, and the bottom line was- I wanted to have control. Zach and I went together and surprise, Garret and I broke up!
Zach did make that night very special! It started at Nicole's house where we were taking pictures with all of our friends and dates. "Girls only picture", someone would yell, and we would all line up in our gowns, holding our flowers, smiling enormous smiles! All of our parents were there, snapping shots, as many as they could get, and finally the trolley came to take us away for the night! We thought we were so unique, showing up in a trolley, rather than a Limo! We ate dinner at a table of our closest friends, and danced to the music that the band was playing! We stayed up until 4:00 am, enjoying one of the last nights that our class would share together. I cried when they played the theme song, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel! I was able to dance with Zach, and he held me close. He was a year behind me, so we both knew that I would be going away. We also knew that we wouldn't have many more dances together. We took advantage of those last dances of the night. I truly enjoyed him holding me in his arms. He was special!
After the night was over, and we all gave each other hugs and reminisced about old times, we went home. The next day we went to an amusement park and spent the day on roller coasters and rides. That night we all stayed at my house, about 10 of us. A coed sleep-over, I was so excited my parents agreed to have it! We watched movies and talked about how much fun we had had, and how it went so quickly, kind of like the whole high school experience. That weekend was a time that will always be clear in my mind, with the pictures of good friends dancing, falling asleep around 3:00 am, laughing at each other on the "swings" at the park, and just having a great time.
A few weeks after the prom, a huge decision had to be made. What college I would be attending for the next four years. I had applied to 3 schools, but Penn State ended up being my first choice. I was introduced to PSU at a very early age, both of my parents had gone there. My family used to take weekend trips to see the Penn State football team take on another team in the enormous Beaver Stadium. I would cheer for PSU teams before I knew what college was all about. My parents never pressured me to go there, but I thought that I wanted to attend a big school. So, when I was waiting for replies, I got accepted to the two other schools I had sent applications to. But when I got my PSU letter back, I was devastated. I was accepted for summer session, I had to go earlier than everyone else.
My mom was great though, she told me, "Colleen, I had to do the same thing, and I LOVED it!" I finally decided that I wanted to go to Penn State, and I would do whatever it took to go to main campus. My parents were ecstatic, and so was I. Going to of the biggest schools in Pennsylvania seemed like the perfect place for me. I could cheer for the excellent football team, go to wild parties, meet tons of people, and be a part of the Penn State experience! I was ready to leave in April! Well, not quite.
My disappointment came when I realized that I was going to miss my last summer home with my best friends, with my family, with the security of Willow Grove, and with the familiarity I had felt all my life. I had one last time with all my friends- graduation. I went to graduation very excited, as well as sad. I had gone through more than four years with most of the people I was going to be graduating with. That night was the night I had realized that I wouldn't see most of these people after we left. I knew that the people that I would see were the people that I cared most about in the world. It also hit me that I would be going in a different direction than most people, even my best friends. I remember sitting in my seat, and waiting for them to call my name. I was thrilled, but sad. I listened to the speakers, but didn't really hear what they were saying, I was so caught up in the fact that I would be leaving in a week. I would be leaving in ONE week. I cried a lot that night. I only had one week left with the girls and guys that I had been friends with all of my life, and I wasn't ready to leave. They weren't leaving. All I could think about was how unfair this seemed.
My last day before I was headed out to State College, Andi, Mags and Nik, gave me a video. On it, they had made a twenty minute tape of themselves imitating me, clips from the prom, graduation, and them wishing me the most luck. I was bawling when I watched it, but I knew it was time for us to move on with our lives. I was first to leave, but that was exciting too. The tape had great memories of us and it was like I was leaving all of those memories behind. My friends and I always considered the song "Forever Young", our song. While I was watching the video, I could here that song playing in my head, and it was like I was in a movie. To be a kid forever was what I wanted at that moment. I said my last good-byes, and the next day, I was in the car.
My parents drove me to school, with all of my stuff to move in to my first dorm room. I had the worst butterflies in my stomach. When I got there, we unpacked my pictures, and clothes. My mom made my bed with my new sheets and mew comforter. My dad put up some posters around the room, to make it more like home, but it wasn't. It was a small dorm room that I had to make my own. My parents said the words I had been dreading to hear all day, "It's time for us to go." I got a knot in my throat. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I stayed strong, and said good-bye. When they left, I went down the hall, and met a hall mate. Little did I know that Megg would be my best friend 3 years later, the best friend I've made at college.
I was not scared or unaware of what was happening to my body. My mother and Mary's mother, my Girl Scout leaders, had presented a program at one of our meetings about menstruation, and I had heard the same program at a recent 4-H meeting. One day at school, all the boys in my sixth grade class were sent to the cafeteria. Then the school nurse, with pads and belts and pins in hand, arrived and gave us girls a demonstration on how to properly put all these pieces together to protect our clothing from the menstrual flow. What a laugh we had that day! On our way home from school on the bus, we gave the boys a blow-by-blow description of all we had learned. I do remember that the nurse never said anything about sex or the boy's anatomy. That we soon learned on our own.
Just two days before this passage into puberty, Mary and I had been out exploring the ridge behind our homes. We lived in the country about three miles from the edge of town. Since we had no sidewalk connecting our homes, we had made our own path between the trees, rocks and backyards of our neighborhood. Over the course of six years, this path had become well worn. On the ridge we enjoyed pretending we were in a new frontier. Mary was always the father and I was the son--I guess you could say we were "tomboys". We had built a cabin out of small fallen trees and branches. Inside we fashioned two beds from pine needles, two chairs from old tree roots, and a table from the
stump of a tree. This was our haven from the world. In the nearby stream, we panned for gold, and inside our cabin we played Uncle Wiggly and Candyland. It was where we smoked the cigarettes that Mary had stolen from her mother's purse, and where we had learned about the male anatomy in a game of "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" with Jeff, our friend and classmate from the neighborhood. Now overnight I had become a woman. I didn't want this time in my life to change, not this summer, maybe sometime during the winter, but not now. Against my will, I was being changed into an adolescent, and next month I would be in the seventh grade. Somehow I knew my life would never be the same again. I cried.
That spring my sixth grade class had visited the junior high school in town. It was a three story, L-shaped building with locker lined halls. Each floor housed a different grade with the seventh grade being on the third floor. In homeroom 311, Mary and I and other students, whose last name also began with A or B, would meet in September for the very first time. The year was 1961.
Quickly, this new school and my new found friends became the center of my existence. Our school district tracked its students academically, and I became a member of section 7-2. Sections 7-1 and 7-2 were the highest sections and included the teens from the Jewish and professional population in our town. My family was upper middle class. Before long a group of about twenty-four of us formed a strong alliance. We were the "in-group" of our class, and everyone wanted to become a member. Our group included the editors and reporters of our junior high newspaper, we were the hall monitors in eighth grade, participated in the choir and band, were members of the Science Club, and were the junior high athletes. Basically, for three years we ruled our class.
For those first years we were inseparable. Friday nights in the fall we attended footballs games. Our local YMCA furnished pep buses so we could attend the away football games. It was on one of those buses in eighth grade that I was kissed for the first time. Edd was the love of my life. We would pass notes in class, slow dance at the sock-hops on Saturday nights, and hold hands at the movies. He taught me the rules of baseball and football, and how to play pool. For Christmas he bought me Tabu perfume and I bought him English Leather aftershave. I was so proud when we were named couple of the month in the Jr. High-Lites, our school's paper. He took me to the eighth grade dance and to a party afterwards where he gave me a charm for my bracelet. We were a couple until the Catholic kids came to our school in ninth grade, and he met the younger sister of one of the new boys to join our group. Bea stole his heart, and he broke mine. We no longer were a couple, and I had once again had my life changed against my will. The innocence of my first true love was over, and I was bitter and revengeful towards Bea. Never one to show my feelings I carried my hurt and anger inside. Secretively, I cried.
All of the members of my crowd shared one very important family trait, we each had a mother and a father living at home. Not one of us came from a broken home. In fact, I don't remember one person in our class whose parents were divorced. Our home lives were different in many ways. Some of us were from Jewish homes where strict religious traditions were adhered to, some of us had older and younger siblings, and a few of us were only children. Our fathers were lawyers, doctors, businessmen, and executives. My father was an accountant and my mother was a telephone operator. I had the only parents who worked full time outside the home. Being an only child, I would ride the bus home to an empty house, and alone wait for my parent's arrival. I was a "latch-key-kid" before it was popular!
In the beginning, I didn't do much when I got home. I would watch American Bandstand as the teen idols of the day would lip sync to their number one hits, and the girls in the stands would scream and swoon, or I would watch Dark Shadows, a soap opera about vampires and things that went bump in the night. Then one day, I thought, "Why don't I cook something really special for supper?" The meal I cooked that night was hot dogs, beans, and macaroni and cheese. It was great! So great in fact, that my mother decided that if I wanted to cook, she'd buy me a cookbook so I could try my hand at new dishes. I accepted the challenge. Every week I would pick new menu ideas from the book, and then make a shopping list for my mother. I loved the responsibility and the challenge of preparing new and exciting dishes. Of course, I was under no obligation to do the cooking every night, and I was never expected to cook on the weekends. They were for fun, not work. Preparing those meals not only gave me something to do after school, they provided me with a great sense of satisfaction. Besides, my dad said that I was a much better cook than my mother. I was so proud.
My dad and I were always the very best of friends. I guess it was because I spent a great deal of time with him while my mother worked. Since we lived in the country and I couldn't walk to activities, Dad was the one who picked-up my friends and then transported us to the movies, the football field, the school or the YMCA for the dances. We could always depend on him being there to pick us up. He would treat us to ice cream cones or pizza before safely delivering everyone home. He taught me to drive when I was sixteen, and I can't remember a time that I didn't have a car to drive. The morning I wrecked his brand new Corvair on the way to school I was so upset, but he remained calm and was very worried about my feelings.
As I stated before, my mother was employed outside the home. The flexibility of her schedule allowed her the freedom to participate in many of my activities. She was a volunteer for the pep club and the Science Club. She even chaperoned the club's trip to Niagra Falls. She and I always enjoyed special shopping trips to Washington, DC, and weekends at the beach with my grandparents. We were and still are great confidants. She never was one to tell you what to do or how to think, you just knew. Our only fights were about her working. I always resented the fact that she had to work even if she did make time for us to be together. The hardest times were when she had to work for the holidays. Christmas was the hardest because I had to wait till she arrived home before I could open my presents. I was so selfish, after all, wasn't it her extra money that had paid for the television set and portable hi-fi in my room?
As a member of the "Baby-Boom-Generation", I grew up in an era of unprecedented affluence. My parents always gave me an allowance, insisting that I first banked $1.00 in my school bank account, and that I ate a school lunch everyday. The remaining money was mine to spend however I wanted. Every Saturday, my friends and I would go to town to shop and just hang out at the local drugstore's soda fountain. Here we would decided what new 45 rpms we would buy that day and what we would do that evening. Sometimes I would buy a new madras blouse that I just couldn't live without, or I would buy more than one new 45 record. If I overspent my weekly allowance, my dad would slip me additional money so I could go to the movies or the dance with my friends. My life was carefree, and I was financially safe and secure. I didn't have a care in the world. I was happy!
My years in junior high school seemed to just float away, and it was time to move on to the senior high. This move brought about many changes in the structure of our tightly woven group. Cliques began to from as we joined new activities. We had cheerleaders and majorettes, football and basketball players, and groups working for the school paper and training for positions on the yearbook staff. We also met and formed new friendships with the students from our school district's other junior high school.
Different social grouping began to take form. No longer did we go to the movies or to sporting events as a group. We had become pairs. Several of the girls dated eleventh and twelfth graders, and several of the boys dated the new Catholic girls who had just entered ninth grade. We had heard all about the dating habits of the senior high kids, and we were both excited and nervous about entering this new realm. Up until now, we had only held hands and "necked" in the balcony of the local movie theater and on the pep buses. After spending an entire summer reading romance novels and watching love movies, we felt we were prepared for whatever was expected of us as we took on the dating behaviors of the more mature teens. We were wrong. Nothing we did had prepared us for the shock of discovering that one of our own had become pregnant. One day she just was not there. Andi's parents had staged a break-up of her romance with her steady boyfriend, and then quickly wisked her away to a home for unwed mothers before any of us could even say good-bye. No one heard from her and it was almost a year before she returned to school. By then, we had moved on without her.
No one ever really talked about their sexual experiences. Oh, we knew who was and who was not having sex, we just skirted the issue. It was assumed, that if you were dating an older guy (especially one out of school) and he owned his own car, you were "getting it on".
The car epitomized to my generation a symbol of maturity and status that held a central place in the social world of our high school. For every sixteen year old boy or girl it represented the first vehicle of unchaperoned freedom especially for dates and sexual exploration. The first time I met Bobby he was driving a brand new, navy blue, Chevy Impala. I was his. I dated that car! I went to the ends of the earth and eventually lost my virginity in the back seat of that new blue car. But I gave up much more than my virginity, I lost my social privileges within my group. In school, I was still one of the group and I participated in all school activities with them, but outside I was viewed as a couple with Bobby. Karen remained my only friend. We shared a deep dark secret, we were both having sex. Together, we would frantically await the arrival of our now welcomed periods. If we were late, we joked about going to a home where we would weave baskets, and await the birth of our babies. Abortion was never an option and we never discussed the possibility of having one. Birth control pills had just been invented, and although we knew little about them, we once got two pills, one for her and one for me, and ceremoniously took them. They worked-- we got our periods! Boy, did we have a lot to learn about birth control. Unfortunately, we never learned about it in school. The fear of pregnancy and disappointing my parents and grandparents was always in the back of my mind, but it never stopped me from being sexually active. I never really believed it would happen to me. Luckily, Karen and I both graduated with honors in 1967. Neither of us had disgraced our families by becoming pregnant in high school. I was 17.
At the beginning of tenth grade, we were not only academically tracked but were tracked according to our future plans. We were given three choices of study to follow. The first was for those preparing for college, the second was for those preparing to enter the field of business (secretarial), and the third was for those preparing to attend the district's vocational school. With the war in Vietnam and the draft looming over our heads, everyone in our crowd chose the college preparatory courses--what else would we take? Hadn't we been tracked in that direction since seventh grade?
Although I was taking the prescribed courses preparing me for college, I was unsure of what it was that I wanted to do in the future. Since my mother had attended a Bible school and withdrew before graduating, I knew my parents were definitely pushing for college. I was to be the first in my family with a college degree. After taking various vocational assessment tests, I met with the school's guidance counselor. She was a very nice woman who just happened to be married to a former classmate and good friend of my mothers. They had their hair done at the same beauty shop every Friday. Got the picture? After reviewing my scores, she suggested that I was best suited to work with people in the capacity of care giver. She suggested that I would do well in a two year program studying occupational therapy. I was sure to be accepted at a school in Delaware. I decided right then and there, that I was not going to a school in Delaware or anywhere else for that matter. I would try my hand working at a local department store, or maybe my father could secure me a job working in the office at the steel mill. If I couldn't find something, then and only then, would I consider going to college. Besides, I was engaged to Bobby and I was not going to go too far away from him. To my surprise, my parents allowed me the freedom to make this important decision. I could tell that they were disappointed, but I knew they still loved me. Confident that I had made the right decision for myself, I applied for a job in the credit department of a local department store. I got the job!
On a snowy afternoon in January of 1968, Bobby and I were married. I was two months pregnant with twins. Accepting my new roles as wife and mother were scary, but I was confident of my love for Bobby, and the direction my life was taking. I considered no other options. Willingly and without hesitation, I solemnly vowed to accept my responsibility. This was what I wanted. My role as wife and mother to three healthy children continued for twenty-five years. I was content, comfortable, and complete.
Now, I am back in school exploring a new path that is completely different from the one I chose in 1968. I am 43!!
When I sat down to write this paper, finding a starting place was a major task. I decided to begin with the one point in my life where I was completely and definitely certain of an event that forever provided me with a sense of identity--mother. How I got to that point is a story of lost adolescence, preceded by a lost childhood.
On the surface, my family appeared like the usual middle class bunch. My father was (and still is) an industrial engineer; my mother was (and still is) mainly a housewife, only occasionally working part-time in a bank. I am the oldest of four children. Seventeen months younger than I is my brother, Mike. My sister, Amy, came six years later, and my brother, Chris, came seven years after Amy.
Your typical All-American family--right? Wrong! You see, my father was and still is an alcoholic. Having been raised in an alcoholic home, my mother doesn't know how to be anything but a co-dependent spouse. This combination sets the scene for some interesting family dynamics.
In order to put some kind of sense and order to my story, I have to give you a brief overview of my childhood years. Until the age of seven, I think I pretty much enjoyed a "normal" childhood. My maternal grandparents and an aunt and uncle very much spoiled my brother and me. My sister was born then, and my childhood disappeared. I became what I call a "short adult". By the time I was eight years old, I was changing my sister's diapers. I can still hear my mother's friends commenting, "Isn't it cute the way Sandi takes care of the baby?" I also had other responsibilities. While my neighborhood friends were bike riding, going to the playground, playing hopscotch in front of my house, and just simply being kids, I was washing and drying dishes, folding diapers and watching my baby sister. The highlights of this period of my life was tap dancing lessons and reading. I especially loved tap dancing! It was so much fun, and the instructor said I was a good "tapper". Out of the blue one day, my mother announced that dance lessons were over; they couldn't afford the $2.00 a week fee. My aunt offered to pay for the lessons, but my parents said that I was already too spoiled by them. I cried, begged, and pleaded; I hadn't even finished a year of lessons. Too late, I realized my downfall was when I asked , "Couldn't you do without some cigarettes. Mom; and maybe Dad not drink so much? Wouldn't there be money then?" That remark resulted in a stay in my room, the "How Dare You " lecture, and my mother's famous line, "We do these things only because we love you."
Life continued at this level for me for a few more years. I learned not to ask "Why can't I do.....? My friends are allowed." That question always resulted in punishment.. As I look back, I realize that that was when I started accepting the bizarre as normal. My activities revolved around helping my mother keep the home environment perfect so as not to upset my father. This was also the time period when I began experiencing fear--fear of my parents , fear of making a mistake and not knowing it--fear, fear, fear. While I watched my friends laugh and talk, and even play with their parents, I remember thinking how odd they were. I couldn't imagine telling my parents anything I did or thought. I learned that everything I did had a "but" with my parents. Nothing I did was good enough. The "B" on my report card was good, but it should be an "A"--grounded for two weeks. I remember one time asking, "Grounded from what? You don't let me do anything!" That was the last time I said that. As I said before, I loved to read, and that was what was taken from me when they couldn't find anything else to take away. This was another instance for my mother's favorite line--"We do this because we love you."
Somewhere around the age of 11 or 12, I developed my "double life". In school, I was lively, fun-loving, and comical. My sense of humor (usually addressed to myself) was developing. My teachers called me bright, cheerful, and pleasant to be around. At home, I was on automatic. The only thing consistent in my home was inconsistency. I never knew when I opened the door what to expect. The only thing known for sure was that the atmosphere had something to do with my father's mood.
Upon entering eighth grade at age 13, my life became an ambivalent cycle of emotions--happy, sad, mad, confused, frustrated, and lonely. The year before, I had started having periods. I might add at this point, that everything I learned about periods I learned from friends. My mother told me nothing. When I came home from school and told her I had gotten my first period that day, she just handed me some pads and a belt, and said, "You already know about this, don't you?" At this same time, my baby fat started to disappear. I was actually growing breasts! Having worn glasses since childhood, I was pleased when my eye doctor recommended contact lenses to slow down my eye problems. Much to my delight, my parents consented, though not before reminding me what a hardship and sacrifice they were making for me.
I didn't have much of a social life. I remember being quite content to stay at home Friday and Saturday nights while my newly-made friends went to dances at the school or the YMCA. I stayed home in order to keep a handle on what was happening there. Children of Alcoholics don't like surprises, and my family was full of them! At my mother's insistence ( I am not sure why), I started going to dances with my friends. Surprise, surprise--I was having fun! My friends would call, and we would decide what clothes we would wear, and speculate about who would be at the dance (usually which boys). Again, out of the blue just like the tap dancing lessons, I was told by my parents that I could only go to one social function per week. Again, "We do this because we love you." When my friends would call, my father would yell at me that I was only permitted to talk on the phone for ten minutes. I was not to speak low or whisper--what was I talking about that I didn't want him to hear? Using the upstairs phone was out of the question. This was very embarrassing for me. Just when I thought I couldn't be more embarrassed, my father would yell that I was a slut and a whore. I remember thinking how unfair he was--I didn't even know very many boys. I recently read in a book about adolescence a passage (to paraphrase) that said in effect that at this stage in their teen's life, parents look with amusement as their adolescent turns closets and room corners into private worlds of the telephone conversation. While my calls were limited and I was treated with derision and suspicion, my friends' parents were having telephones installed in their bedrooms.
A couple of months into eighth grade, my second brother was born. Because my mother insisted that she wasn't going to have postnatal depression (a popular concept back then), I became my infant brother's primary caregiver. This was added to my usual responsibilities of dishes, laundry, ironing, cleaning and taking care of my sister who was six by then. I might also mention that I was expected to maintain an "A" average in school. Before going to school in the morning, I bathed and fed my brother. After school, he was mine until he went to bed. On Saturday and Sunday mornings when my friends were "sleeping in", I was up at the crack of dawn with my sister and baby brother. My other brother didn't have to help around the house or with our siblings. He was my father's exhibit, practicing the sport of the season at which he must excel in order to stay in my father's good graces.
In school, because of tracking and socioeconomic status, I was in the upper class crowd--the "college prep" kids which included athletes and cheerleaders. Even though these kids were considered the "cream of the crop", and I felt that they were my friends, my parents said they weren't good enough to be my friends. According to my parents, my friends were too carefree--always going to dances, walking around the town square on Saturday afternoons, talking to boys, going swimming at the "Y", and always laughing and giggling at dumb things. Their daughter was not going to be like them! I persevered, however, and developed friendships in spite of (or perhaps, to spite) them.
During this time period, there was a popular song entitled "Oh, What a Night". One of the lines referred to a night in late December, 1963. Well, in late December, 1963, I met my first love. I was 14. One of my friends had a Christmas party, and anyone who was anyone was there. Steve, one of the "older" boys (two years older), asked me to dance. I was instantly in love! In fact, when my father arrived to pick me up after the party, I was actually brave enough to ask him to also take Steve home.
From that point on, Steve and I were a couple. My best friend, JoAnn, starting seeing Steve's best friend, Junior. I think the "doubleness" of these relationships is what convinced my parents that this was an innocent relationship. However, we were in love; in fact, for me, it was the first time in my life that someone actually told me I was loved.
After a couple of months, my parents really got on my case about the seriousness of this relationship. Eventually, I started to sneak to see Steve. It was summer by then, and I was permitted more time to spend with friends. I would see Steve at JoAnn's house. Her parents did not mind at all. Of course, I did not let on that my parents would ground me if they found out! Steve was permitted to come to my house once a week. At those times, we would often go for walks. My parents felt that walking was a pretty safe activity.
During this time, my father was still calling me names like "whore" and "slut" when he had too much to drink. At age 15, I knew their meanings. While part of me reacted to this name calling by saying to myself, "I'm not that way"; another part of me was experiencing sexual awakening. While on our walks. Steve and I discovered our secret place--behind the elementary school in my neighborhood. We started out by necking; this gradually progressed to petting which led to heavy petting. In my era, necking was just kissing; petting was allowing your breasts to be touched; and heavy petting was touching each other "down there".
Nature took it's course. One night, we went "all the way". Talk about mind chatter! I remember arguing with myself--"No, don't do it; yes, it feels so good. I love him so much!" Love won out. All I could think of afterwards was that I was no longer a virgin. I was well on the way to fulfilling my father's prophecy--this is what whores and sluts did! Steve reassured me that he loved me, and that I should not think of myself as a low-life. I felt so lucky to have him and his support.
One of the old wives' tales to make the circuit in my crowd was "You can't get pregnant the first time". I am here to tell anyone who wants to pay attention--THIS IS NOT TRUE!
Lo and behold--I missed my next period. I rationalized that the excitement of my first year in Senior High, and the fact that I would see Steve every day caused this little hitch in my otherwise normally-functioning body. After my second missed period, Steve and I were trying hard not to be frantic. We were both sure that my parents would, maybe not kill us, but at least cause us great bodily harm!
One morning, my mother casually mentioned the fact that she noticed that I hadn't had a period in a while; maybe she should take me to the doctor and have my thyroid checked. I talked to Steve at school that day, and we decided to tell my mother that weekend. Talking to my father first wasn't a consideration. Friday night came. Steve came up to my house, and we watched television until my father went to bed. We called my mother into the living room and told her we had a problem. Steve said, "We have to get married." My mother said, "I can't handle this alone. I'm getting your father out of bed." After a short pause, she then added, "Oh, my God! What will people think of your father and me!" My father came downstairs, and my mother told him our news. I had never been more frightened in my life--I couldn't imagine his reaction. What I didn't expect was his saying. "People will think we are horrible parents!" He then told Steve to leave, tell his parents what he had done, and never set foot in our house again.
At this point, the weirdness began. After a trip to the family doctor to confirm my pregnancy, my parents decided that they would send me to a home for unwed mothers. They planned to tell people that I had a "nervous breakdown", and was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital. For my part of this charade, I was supposed to fake a breakup with Steve and "act" like I was having this supposed nervous breakdown. Of course, I thought this was the silliest thing I could do. I just could not pull off this major farce! I told my two closest friends that I was counting on them to set people straight if the rumor went around that I was crazy and in a mental hospital. Some would say that I was rebelling against my parents! Something deep inside me told me that their plan and their way of thinking was pretty abnormal. This was the incident that proved to me that my family was just a tad dysfunctional!
I arrived at the maternity home in October, 1964. I was three months' pregnant. The other girls at the home were in their last month of pregnancy. I was the only one who didn't "show". After a few weeks at the home, I was told by the Social Worker that my parents expected me to give my baby up for adoption. Needless to say, I became very upset. When my mother was notified of my despair, she ordered the attending doctor to give me whatever medication was necessary to keep me calm, regardless of the effect on the baby. So, the doctor started giving me Phenobarbital, a strong sedative. It worked--I was much calmer. I was a zombie!
My baby was due in April, l965. In early March, l965, my labor started, a month early. This brings us to the beginning of this paper. Oh, before I forget, my mother said they were letting me go through the labor and childbirth alone because this was how they showed me that they loved me!
This site was produced by students taking HDFS
433: The Transition to Adulthood and HDFS
239: Adolescent Development at the Pennsylvania State University. Feedback
can be sent to the individual authors or to Nancy
Darling (darling@bard.edu).
Last updated 4/16/01.