Sunset High School, NW Cornell Road; Beaverton, Oregon:
I began my high school days in the fall of 1973, coincidentally, the same year my older brother graduated and my Grandparent's 50th Wedding Anniversary. It was a big year, and I remember it well.
My high school career was not necessarily a pleasant one, but like all of you, I muddled my way through and came out the other side with my sheepskin intact. I had a few friends that I met at Sunset, and kept most of the ones I'd known from Cedar Park. Dean Williams and Tim Uglesich were my two closest buddies. We did all kinds of crazy, nutty stuff together. Some of my fondest memories of that time are when Dean and I would go toolin' around in his V.W. bug that he'd converted into a Rolls Royce. Apparently fiberglass kits were available that you could add onto an existing V.W. bug to make it look like a mini-Rolls, a mini-hearse, a mini-ambulance, and a mini-fire engine. The mini-Rolls was cool because it had the rumble-seat in the back of the car for an additional passenger.
I remember one trip in particular that Dean and I took, probably in the spring or summer of 1974 or 1975. Dean was driving along Skyline Boulevard in NW Portland, and I don't know exactly what happened, but the car spun around, doing a 180, and we were facing the opposite direction. Boom! Just like that. My jaw dropped through the floorboards, and Dean, well, he just started giggling manically and then drove off, like that sort of thing happened to him all the time. Ha! Later that same night, on a whim, just for sh*ts and giggles, Dean drove us through the Rose Test Gardens in Washington Park. I remember driving through the fountain, down the steps of the amphitheater, and down the many rows of roses. It was a blast!
There was a bike ride that Tim and I went on, from my house all the way through the hills of SW Portland, up the hill towards the Lewis & Clark College campus, and then down the other side to Lake Oswego. That was the longest hill I think I'd ever ridden on. Besides the long bike ride, I recall that we stopped at every single fast-food joint along the way: McDonald's, Arby's, Burger King, Burgerville, Wendy's, Pizza Hut, and McDonald's... again. I think I ate about a bazillion tons of beef that day in various forms. And then to top it off, after we arrived at the home of Tim's Grandparents, his Grandmother just knew we'd be hungry. (I can still feel the gurgling in my stomach as though it were yesterday.) I think I nibbled on whatever she made for us. Lacy curtains, his Grandfather called them. Actually they where fried eggs, over easy. The "lacy curtains" refers to the edges being slightly bubbled and browned.
Another friend that I met at Sunset was Mike Goodwin. We were the same age, had the same birthday, but different as night and day. We didn't walk alike or talk alike either. The birthday was the only similarity I can recall. He was a stoner, I was a straight-laced, goody-two-shoes. Somehow we became fast friends. He lived in the West Hills, in the Bonny Slope neighborhood, about a 5 minute drive east on Cornell Road from the high school. His older brother, Kerry, grew pot plants, and Mike was a regular in the high school's smoking area. As far as I know, he never smoked weed on school grounds... I'm just saying.
I think the mistake I made with Mike is that I moved in with him shortly after graduation, as I was in school and needed to be out of our house by then. More on why later. Suffice to say that living with Mike was interesting and educational. I'd always lived at home, and under different circumstances, I likely would have remained at home until I graduated from college.
Back to Mike. He'd met a young lady, Teena, somewhere and sometime during senior year at Sunset. They'd dated pretty much since senior year began in September 1975, and I'm guessing were planning on graduating together in the spring. Not gonna happen. They decided, somewhere along the way, to do the 5-year plan instead. Anyway, I digress. We moved into the upstairs apartment of an elderly woman, just down the street from Beaverton High School. I remember it was a quiet neighborhood, conveniently located off of SW Farmington Road, near the corner of SW 7th & Erickson Avenue.
My only memories of that experience are grocery shopping and Teena plucking Mike's chest hairs, all three of them. She didn't like chest hair, and yet between plucking Mike's and the perm she gave him, he looked very gay. She preferred the word feminine. The grocery "discussion" was about the amount I should have paid, for my part. The problem was that I could never eat half of all the food the two of them ate together. I think I moved out shortly thereafter. I think I expected Mike to stick up for me, which seemed reasonable at the time. I never talked to either of them again, mostly because I'd moved on to college, and they were still in high school. No regrets.
Towards the end of high school, in the summer/early fall of 1976, my mother became quite ill and was taken into the hospital.
I began my high school days in the fall of 1973, coincidentally, the same year my older brother graduated and my Grandparent's 50th Wedding Anniversary. It was a big year, and I remember it well.
My high school career was not necessarily a pleasant one, but like all of you, I muddled my way through and came out the other side with my sheepskin intact. I had a few friends that I met at Sunset, and kept most of the ones I'd known from Cedar Park. Dean Williams and Tim Uglesich were my two closest buddies. We did all kinds of crazy, nutty stuff together. Some of my fondest memories of that time are when Dean and I would go toolin' around in his V.W. bug that he'd converted into a Rolls Royce. Apparently fiberglass kits were available that you could add onto an existing V.W. bug to make it look like a mini-Rolls, a mini-hearse, a mini-ambulance, and a mini-fire engine. The mini-Rolls was cool because it had the rumble-seat in the back of the car for an additional passenger.
I remember one trip in particular that Dean and I took, probably in the spring or summer of 1974 or 1975. Dean was driving along Skyline Boulevard in NW Portland, and I don't know exactly what happened, but the car spun around, doing a 180, and we were facing the opposite direction. Boom! Just like that. My jaw dropped through the floorboards, and Dean, well, he just started giggling manically and then drove off, like that sort of thing happened to him all the time. Ha! Later that same night, on a whim, just for sh*ts and giggles, Dean drove us through the Rose Test Gardens in Washington Park. I remember driving through the fountain, down the steps of the amphitheater, and down the many rows of roses. It was a blast!
There was a bike ride that Tim and I went on, from my house all the way through the hills of SW Portland, up the hill towards the Lewis & Clark College campus, and then down the other side to Lake Oswego. That was the longest hill I think I'd ever ridden on. Besides the long bike ride, I recall that we stopped at every single fast-food joint along the way: McDonald's, Arby's, Burger King, Burgerville, Wendy's, Pizza Hut, and McDonald's... again. I think I ate about a bazillion tons of beef that day in various forms. And then to top it off, after we arrived at the home of Tim's Grandparents, his Grandmother just knew we'd be hungry. (I can still feel the gurgling in my stomach as though it were yesterday.) I think I nibbled on whatever she made for us. Lacy curtains, his Grandfather called them. Actually they where fried eggs, over easy. The "lacy curtains" refers to the edges being slightly bubbled and browned.
Another friend that I met at Sunset was Mike Goodwin. We were the same age, had the same birthday, but different as night and day. We didn't walk alike or talk alike either. The birthday was the only similarity I can recall. He was a stoner, I was a straight-laced, goody-two-shoes. Somehow we became fast friends. He lived in the West Hills, in the Bonny Slope neighborhood, about a 5 minute drive east on Cornell Road from the high school. His older brother, Kerry, grew pot plants, and Mike was a regular in the high school's smoking area. As far as I know, he never smoked weed on school grounds... I'm just saying.
I think the mistake I made with Mike is that I moved in with him shortly after graduation, as I was in school and needed to be out of our house by then. More on why later. Suffice to say that living with Mike was interesting and educational. I'd always lived at home, and under different circumstances, I likely would have remained at home until I graduated from college.
Back to Mike. He'd met a young lady, Teena, somewhere and sometime during senior year at Sunset. They'd dated pretty much since senior year began in September 1975, and I'm guessing were planning on graduating together in the spring. Not gonna happen. They decided, somewhere along the way, to do the 5-year plan instead. Anyway, I digress. We moved into the upstairs apartment of an elderly woman, just down the street from Beaverton High School. I remember it was a quiet neighborhood, conveniently located off of SW Farmington Road, near the corner of SW 7th & Erickson Avenue.
My only memories of that experience are grocery shopping and Teena plucking Mike's chest hairs, all three of them. She didn't like chest hair, and yet between plucking Mike's and the perm she gave him, he looked very gay. She preferred the word feminine. The grocery "discussion" was about the amount I should have paid, for my part. The problem was that I could never eat half of all the food the two of them ate together. I think I moved out shortly thereafter. I think I expected Mike to stick up for me, which seemed reasonable at the time. I never talked to either of them again, mostly because I'd moved on to college, and they were still in high school. No regrets.
Towards the end of high school, in the summer/early fall of 1976, my mother became quite ill and was taken into the hospital.
Now, he'd attended college several years before, but I'm guessing pretty much the same or very similar class reference numbers applied: 000 to 100 were Freshman level, 200 were Sophomore level, 300 were Junior and 400 were Senior level. My geography class... 500. Graduate level. Wow. And being a newbie at this it didn't dawn on me that maybe I was a little out of my league! I did, however manage to pass with a D.
Back to my mother. My step-father had been a wonderful provider for us: a beautiful home, nice clothes, quiet neighborhood in the West Hills. All the trappings. So, we never questioned it when he said, "Your mother is very sick and needs to be in the hospital. We'll go visit her soon." Soon turned out to be around late September or early October, in the evening.
I remember she looked very pale and sickly. She was sitting on her hospital bed naked, when we walked in, and we quickly turned and went down the hall for several minutes; I think that is when my step-father helped her get dressed. I got the sense that she didn't recognize me when we went there. Somehow inside me, I knew she was not going to get better. I ached all over. I told her about how I'd started college, and how much I enjoyed that. Honestly, I don't know how coherent she was at that point, I only know that I felt so sad looking at this shell that had been my mommy.
I don't remember much more about that visit, other than it was rather short because my step-father had to get us home as Visiting Hours were coming to a close. We said our good-byes and left the room, heads down, staring at the floor and feeling quite empty.
That December was our last Christmas together as a family. After my Mother's passing, the family fell apart, scattering to the four winds.
