Art was the only subject that held my interest and of course, boys. I dated so many different boys, starting from Eagle Rock, and Glendale, through Hollywood, onto Beverly Hills, then Westwood, Brentwood and so on; all the way to the beaches of Santa Barbara. Truly, a feat. No guy was safe.

Mike didn’t mind, because he knew that my flitting behavior was in direct correlation with my mother’s ruling of not going steady.

Just as I wasn’t able to turn down a date, I also couldn't help accepting a better one. Some nights I had as many as four dates, only to ignore them all, so I could cruise Hollywood and the Strip with the girls. I drove my mother crazy as one date after another came to the door, only to find that they had been stood up by me; thus I gained the reputation of being the ultimate P.T.

The only boy I felt committed to was my dark and handsome Michael, and our relationship. The depth of our affinity, still unknown to my family had, grown, under the hidden intimacy. Michael stepped into the Bohemian culture. Holding out his hand to me, I grasped it and followed. My mind was becoming a recycling plant, using old salvageable knowledge and applying it to the new; tossing the useless junk away. I reached out and away from the bourgeois comfort zone; my life line and diffidently sought individualism, within the safe compounds of social mediocrity. Something of me inside kept saying . . . Break away, break away. Step into the deep end.

"Try smoking some of this." First time, Mike handed me a joint, we were alone in his house in a small room with a tiny mattress and painting on the wall.

"Why, that is marijuana!'' I had been taught all my life that marijuana lead straight to heroin and opened a door to tawdry darkness. Mike just gently laughed at me in that amused way of his. "I will not.'' I said, stubborn. We sat in silence. He, puffing away, relaxed on his couch, staring into my eyes, all the while I sat rigid, uptight in a strait back chair. After a few minutes of this, I suddenly caught a cartoon visual of our silly crescendo and broke into spasms of giggles.

As usual, Mike already saw the scene long before I did and gave me his patiently teasing, sexy look. I was weak when it came to his sweet mocks.

"O.K.” I reluctantly reached for the joint. “I’ll try it.”

EASY TO BE HARD /CH.9/ Pt. 6/ Silly High School

It was the fall of ’62 and we were going to make our world a perfect oyster.

Nancy had a very up tight attitude toward the opposite sex. I felt that that this was a defense mechanism, and told her so. “If you don’t learn about the opposite sex, Missy, you shall just shrivel up and perish.” Unlike me, boy crazy and all over the place, she dated very few guys, and the few dates that she did go out on, were double dates, fixed up by me.

Immediately, on the first day of school Nance, Judy and I were heavily targeted by every social club. It was a rush to be a top rush, very cool indeed. At that time, it was a very critical matter, getting into a club, a must do, even though clubs were restricted by the school. Nancy's older sister, Fran, had been a Co Cee and my sister Geri had been an Atemet. The Atemets straight up ruled the social scene at John Marshall, which automatically plugged one into the other top clubs from other schools, like Hollywood High. The rowdy CoCees were second, then the Gamas and last, were the Cordells.

"Rushing," was basically a courtship, and lasted a month. Nance and I made both Atemets and Co Cees, but of course we chose the latter. We went through grueling initiation as pledges, doing everything we were told. This consisted of everything from swiping blank report cards, to doing other member’s homework, or dressing like a fool. If things got to harsh we could file a complaint with the club

Hell night was another matter. Nancy and I sat together, rigid with fright until midnight, the designated time for pick-up. As soon as I opened our front door, a scarf was tied over my eyes. "Get in the car, Bitches, and then each got a Tampax shoved in our mouths. Was that sweet Julie's voice I just heard? Once we reach a certain destination, the members tied us up with rope, and poured thick vile mixtures on our bodies, disgusting oily drinks in our mouths and spiders on our faces. The final insult was the "interrogation," where we had to answer any question thrown at us, or be expelled from the club, right then and there. Basically, this was all a part of the price one paid for high school popularity. Mike just laughed at me and thought the whole thing was so stupid, but that did stop him from eventually entering a guys club called the Savants.

In spite of all this activity, I felt stifled. My studies bored me, my weekly religious classes, infuriated me, and my home life depressed me. Also, it was time for me to start working at a real job. This decree set forth by my mother was extremely clear. As soon as I entered high school, I was never to be without employment.

So, my first job was at the celebrated Italian bakery/coffee shop/opera house by the name of Sarno's, on Vermont Ave. The Sarno family was friends with my family and it was understood that my sisters and I, each in our own time, would work there.

	catching a bus	hah! So you had to have an after school job too..I worked at a theater on Colorado Blvd when I went to Pasadena High School. Glad you didn't get TSS from those Tampax's shoved in your mouths!! ...wha?wha,..what? John Marshall was a jr. high school in Pasadena...hmm. Although, Pasadena is close by, it's still distance from Hollywood, so it couldn't be the same school. Although later, after JHS, all that HS social hierarchy doo-rah stuff became an afterthought, soon as I started going to Continuation HS...thank goodness! Interesting to finally hear what I avoided. I went to 3 high schools...Pasadena, Blair, and then CT (Continuation)...never heard of this in high school that much..veddy intadesting Paula. Posted by catching a bus on Thursday, June 24, 2010 - 9:06 PM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Paula Paula Servetti	Well Thanks catching a bus..( Ha that just cracks me up.) Anyway.....it didn't last too long with meeeee as you shall seeee! Where in the hell are you? Posted by Paula on Thursday, June 24, 2010 - 11:16 PM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	MusicDiva Music Lover	Good Gawd, high school is hard enough without all that crap going on! Guess I was lucky that I didn't have to go thru any of that in small-town Iowa, heartland of the Midwest...but we did have our dramas too, with trading our guys around, willingly or unwillingly. What a life you've led, kiddo! Posted by MusicDiva on Saturday, June 26, 2010 - 11:46 PM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Paula Paula Servetti	Gosh, I thought all highschools did that ... Anna that sounds just horrid.. the trading guys around thing....Horrid, worse than any hell night could ever be./I never have heard of that! Posted by Paula on Sunday, June 27, 2010 - 11:48 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	MusicDiva Music Lover	Never had any clubs (pre-cursor to today's gangs?) except for 4-H and FHA, but there were many incidents of someone going steady with someone only to find out the next weekend that they're going out with someone else. 'Musical chairs' so to speak, or, in these cases, musical class rings wrapped in angora.... Posted by MusicDiva on Monday, June 28, 2010 - 10:52 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

Paula Paula Servetti

P.S. to Music Lover . . .When I said I thought all schools did that I was referring to the club thing... Posted by Paula on Sunday, June 27, 2010 - 11:50 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User] Raymond Brinkworth, Gary Hill, Callen TheVoice and 4 others like this. PauLa Servetti Well , I got deleted,/ Thank-you...... June 25 at 12:19pm · · Jeren Corseau Why do we 'like' this? that isn't right. June 25 at 1:35pm · · PauLa Servetti Cause we are all nuts! Sunday at 11:13am · · PauLa Servetti spiders on my face were the worse, but I have a feeling it might have been some other kind of insect, but we were blindfolded so... to me...spiders it was.....I have a terrible fear of them. Well, black widows. Sunday at 11:15am · · Tom Stevens Oddly enough, the work of a writer/poet/artist that depicts the author's most gut-wrenching life moments is often exactly what connects first with the public. Especially if it's framed nicely. Sunday at 12:01pm · · Write a comment...

Movin On / Ch.9 /Pt. 5/The Perfect Oyster

Mike smiled

It was toward the end of the ninth grade that Nancy Pearlman, and I became steadfast friends. Although, it was quite evident that she didn’t like me much, at first. She was pretty popular in the princess circle and was always giving me the snub. I had seen her around Le Conte summer school, the year before, at a time when she was wearing a body cast to improve her scoliosis. I don’t know how our friendship came about, except to say that eventually we found each other to be very jolly company. We just clicked, more than the others, in spite of ourselves. We’d laugh until, we couldn’t. We’d just look at each other and crack-up. And, I can’t say what it was that made the crowd like us together, either. We were the Bobbsey Twins, Lucy and Ethel, Tammy and Tommy, freckled and screwy, but she was shorter and brunette.

I would say, “May sheep’s heads grow on apple trees. . .”

And she would say, “May the moon be turned into green cheese. . .”

‘If ever I cease to love!’

We were true blue, together through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, marriages, divorces and I never had reason to think that we would ever come to an end. But, she was taken from this world at the tender age of forty six, a day before our weekly lunch. Her death devastated me, and I miss her, so very much.

‘May the Monument a hornpipe dance,

If ever I cease to love!’

School let out and it was summer once again. We had a riotous time of it, for the Kolodnys rented a home on Balboa Island for a month, and shared their bounty. What a fun time we had! What shenanigans we pulled. After that, Nancy and I spent the rest of the summer either body surfing or babysitting. That is, I would babysit and she would sit with me on the lawns of various homes. We’d watch the children play and share our thoughts and dreams.

"I don't know what I want to be, just yet, but I know that I want to make a difference." said Nancy.

"I think I want to be a writer and have five children . . . one more than my mother." I said to Nance, as I stood up and did stretches on the grass. “C'mon, let's practice the stomp.” Na, na na, na na! We worked on our “cool” all through the summer, readying ourselves for John Marshal High School. It was the fall of ’62 and we were going to make our world a perfect oyster.

Movin On / Ch. 9 / Pt. 4 / Just When You Think

I was looking sexy and I knew it.


About that time, the surfing rage was really catching on. My new beau of the month was, of course, a surfer; hang ten, tall, blond, tan and beautiful, Scott Nixon. Mike thought this to be quite amusing. He thought the whole surfer trip was stupid. Scott, in turn thought Mike was an asshole. So all around, it was an agreeable situation. Looking back, I still don’t know how it all worked out, but things were different then and guys just knew that I wasn’t allowed to go steady. With some prompting from Scott, I set out to attain a complimenting surfer look. This consisted of long, straight hair parted on the side, and blond, to the degree of serious abuse. A deep tan, (thanks to Johnson's Baby Oil), was a must, as were Hawaiian printed shifts with hems just above mid-thigh. Mom, even gave me some of my saved money, so I could buy them. They weren’t very expensive. She cleverly thought that this would keep my out of my sister’s closet. I must say that she was very lenient, and let me wear anything I wanted. In fact, she seemed amused by it all. The final touch was a pair of sandals and there you had it, the look of the ultimate surfer, beach-bunny, babe.


However, the last and most important aspect in the bunny stamp of authenticity was surfing knots, located on the knees. This was absolute, unadulterated proof, that the bunny actually handled a surf board and fiercely rode the waves. This didn't pose a problem as my girlfriends and I simply hit at our knees with stones, creating lovely red bumps.

Life was moving right along. I entered a drama class and starred in a few plays such as "You Can't Take It with You" and "Harvey." My drama teacher said that I had a natural comedic quality . . . which, I thought, was quite a nice thing of him to say. The rest of my classes were a synch and a bit repetitive due to the intense curriculum I had endured at Our Mother of Good Counsel. Yes, all was grand and going smoothly . . . that is, until the moment Mike Castro decided to stand back, a bit and let me face my dangers. He called it, building backbone. Mike Valosovich and Johnny Greco, were extremely protective of me and didn’t take to that idea, one bit. They still kept a sharp eye out. I always saw them, like crayons, filling in my background. Somehow, my old friend, Dolly Medrano must have caught wind of the new idea of Mike’s, for she got a hair up her ass and decided to fight with me. She picked a day when she knew Mike was absent, which meant, that Greco and Voyavitch, weren’t around, either.

"Hey surfa girl," she purred as she rammed me against a schoolyard fence. "Jur in my way. I'm thinkin that ju owe me an apology."

Silence on my part. Panic.

"You fucker.” she pushed at me. “Ju and jur little surfa chicks are just a bunch of pussies." She spat at my feet, and then motioned for her bitches to come forward.

"Shut the fuck up, Dolly!" Why did I just say that?

"What did ju just say to me, Bitch? Eh? Did I hear ju right?" She turned to her pack. "Ju hear dat! She just said fuck to me!"

“Aaaaaaawwwwww!” Her friends all whooped and started twirling their belt chains.

Vicky L. Sharer, Jeren Corseau and Raymond Brinkworth like this.

Jeren Corseau

they didn't have chains. seriously now. haha. I remember this one before, too.

Friday at 4:49pm ·

PauLa Servetti

Yes seriously , I should put their belt chains, they connected and then Hung down, maybe you aren't familiar, I keep forgetting that people may not know this. Yes, chains....

Friday at 7:21pm ·

PauLa Servetti

For fighting

Friday at 7:22pm ·

PauLa Servetti

Ya I reposted this cause a few people wanted to see in on blogger and I can't put a link to it on myspace cause they are not compatible at the moment cause of spamming

Friday at 7:25pm ·

PauLa Servetti

I wrote back and forth with Myspace Help until I finally learned this....

Friday at 8:33pm ·

Jason Akos Sollar

"easy to say NO?"

Saturday at 9:40am ·

PauLa Servetti

Ha funny Jason!

Movin On / Ch. 9 / Pt. 3 / King Jr. High

Paula
Movin On / Pt. 3 / King Jr. High


Summer vacation was at an end, even though the sun was still scorching. It was time to say farewell to the Beaches of Sorrento, Venice and Malibu. I entered the ninth grade at Thomas Star King Jr. High School. It was much more overwhelming, than Le Conte summer school had been; surpassing my farthest expectations. Thankfully, my guardian angel, Judy was right there by my side, paving the way, until I could manage on my own. And, of course, Mike was always on the horizon, making sure I was safe and because of that, I was slow to realize that King was a rough school.


Slowly, in spite of my inner turmoil, a new horizon unfolded. I felt free for the first time. Free from the shackles of Catholic school. This was the real thing. No more uniforms, no more nuns, and no more censorship. I could dress the way I wanted and express my views without harsh repercussions. My babysitting jobs had allowed me to save up a good amount of money, even though I only earned fifty cents an hour. Before the semester started, Mom gave me back two hundred and fifty dollars of the money I earned and took me shopping for school clothes. But, this was not nearly enough money for a decent wardrobe; so, I clearly needed to use my imagination. With an edgy use of accessories and a few hand-me-downs, I built up my repertoire.


My mother picked clothes for me that bent toward the classics, so I altered them with quirky touches. In no time, I exhausted my stock of cloth and looked for ways to expand. That's when I began sneaking clothes from my sister, Geri’s closet, and stuffing them under my bed, instead of putting them back. She didn't have much herself and kept her clothes in such pristine order that she could tell when something was missing. It was of little consequence to me, that my actions drove my sister to tears. I was really being a brat.



“She’s ruining my life! Do something!” she cried to my mother.

“Gosh I only borrowed a few things.”

My mother locked me out of my sister’s room, with a warning.

“Fine!” I said, and stomped off . . . but I was pretty concerned, about the whole thing.



This new affair, turned out to be only a temporary setback. I was a desperate girl, with a mission and eventually I found a skeleton key, in my Dad's first drawer. Mind you, it was not so much that that I wanted to look pretty, it was, that I was up against the ruling click of rich, princesses; whose cashmere sweaters and skirts, expensive shoes, purses and jewels, were their daily faire. Why was it that everywhere I went, there were so many rich people? The pressure was intense, but I refused to be ashamed of what little I had. In less than a few months, I was setting trends. I did things like dropping my sweaters down like a lazy shawl, or folded my skirt over at the waist and pulled it down so it would hang inside out and tight over my hips, like an under garment and at the same time making the skirt really short. Soon every girl was doing the same. This was about the point where I let my hair grow really long, again. I was looking sexy and I knew it.

Movin On / Ch.9 / Pt. 2 / Drop Me Dead!

Paula

Before I knew what was happening, Mike Castro was after my deepest affections and was not going to settle for anything less. I figured he was just playing around, as he was known to be a notorious lady killer. But, there was enough conceit and sense of play under my belt, to give him quite a time of it. In actuality, I never stood a chance. He never was one to chase a girl, so his interest in me, surprised all that knew him and the whole drama was therefore, played out in public. Everyone was watching. Once I could tell that he was being sincere, it didn’t take much to let my guard down.

So, the word got out, that Mike Castro was enthralled with the new, Catholic girl.  Unfortunately for me, this outraged a tough girl by the name of Dolly Medrano. She was out to kick my collective ass.

I got a phone late phone call one night. There was heavy breathing on the other end and then a girl’s deep voice, oozing with hostility. “Yea, bitch . . . Dolly’s talkin here. Yea, surfa girl . . . ju know? Ju fuckeeng bother me. Yea, I don’t think I like ju.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Ju got some, fancy plans wid da man, Castro?”

“I, Uh, uh, uh . . . “

“I hate just lookin at jur fuckin face. You think jur so fuckeeng hot and you ain’t shit! Dju know what I mean, bitch?”

“Well, yes, I mean no . . . I mean, Well, I really don’t think I’m that hot . . . I rather think that . . . Hello?

Man, oh my god! Dolly Medrano, was after me . . . tattoos, chains, and bunnies. (Not the animal, but the shoes . . . mark of the Vata!) It was said that she had razor blades planted in her ratted foot-high hair. Spiders could live in there and she’d never know it! I became a paranoid wreck, looking out my window till dawn. That day, I made sure that I was never by myself.

Somehow, I made it through school without being knifed in an alley. Then, came the night. The phone rang late, again. I stared at it and reluctantly picked up the receiver. “H-h-ello?”

“Hellooo.” He laughed gently. There was no mistaking that smooth sultry voice, or that cock sure attitude. My heart began to pound, my throat ran dry, and my tongue became tied. After some maneuvering on his part I was able to speak with complete ease.

Drop me dead! I liked his want! I liked his way. We fell in hard and stayed that way all through Jr. High and high school. It wasn't easy, as my parents were concerned about me. My socialite friends certainly raised eyebrows thinking that it was a high risk situation. But, Mike was his own man and he understood pressures. He was patient with me, putting up with my silly naive ways, as I entered my new world, and I didn’t mind his rough reputation. We both put up with each others endless string of admirers. Nothing, threatened him. He knew I was his, completely. I was his and he was mine. Once in a while we would flaunt about, but then we’d go underground again. We liked our privacy. So, outside of a certain circle of friends who we partied with, now and then, we kept to ourselves. People were puzzled by us and that was the way we liked it.

Movin On / Ch.9 / Pt. 1 / Mike Castro

Paula

I wondered about him . . . this leader of the pack . . . luscious, bad boy.

It took but a minute of asking, to ascertain that this was the infamous Mike Castro. I thought that I should call him, “Dionysus.” I took note that he wore a perfectly ironed, button-up shirt, tucked into loose-fitting khakis, which he wore high at the waist, and held there with a cloth belt. He walked slow and sure of himself; obviously comfortable, in his own skin. Leaning to one side, with his hands in his pockets, he smiled . . . thee most gorgeous smile!

Then, slanting against a tree, he spoke to his homeboys, as they hung on his every syllable. I later learned that these guys were Johnny Greco, and Mike Voyovitch and that they seemingly carried out Mikes every command. The juicy gossip had it that Mike made money by extortion and other devious methods. This was fascinating. It certainly was a fast, new, world.

The next morning, proved misty once again, but chillier than the day before. I was minding my own business, walking to my math class, when out of nowhere, Johnny Greco appeared before me.

“Hey pretty one, u got a name?”

“I’m, Paula.” I said.

“Paula huh? O.K. . . . Miss P. . . . nice name. See ja aroun.” And he strutted off.

I kept walking on, a bit puzzled, until I noticed Mike Castro leaning against a chain link fence, chewing on a toothpick, looking me up and down, with a determination. Whew!

Later that day, Johnny Greco came up to me again. “Hey Miss P., dju hear of my man, Mike Castro?” Without waiting for me to answer, he continued on. “He wants to meet u. Dju know what I’m talkin bout?”

I looked at over towards the direction of Johnny Greco’s chin thrust and saw Mike staring with a teasing smirk on his face, and then he laughed.

“What a conceited bastard.” I thought, but said, “He sure likes to play cat and mouse doesn’t he?” I turned my head and started down my path, with my nose in the air. “Humph!” All the while feeling weak in my knees. He was so gorgeous, and he knew it.

They both sat looking at me till I passed by them and then, Mike said something to Johnny and they both snickered. Thrill chills prickled down my spine. One did not play games with these guys. My parents would kill me twice if they caught me even talking to one of them. My dad, cause they were Latin, my mother, cause they were trouble. Not only were trouble, they were bad to the bone. “Where and when did he first see me?” I wondered excitedly.

	MusicDiva Music Lover	Ooooo, this is good. The [sexual] tension in the air...the looks...the words unsaid, but understood...yup, games played from the beginning of time... Posted by MusicDiva on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 12:34 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Paula Paula Servetti	I won't say too much about it, so as not to jump ahead of myself. but I will say it was quite a leap from Sister Mary Carol to Mike Castro! Posted by Paula on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 9:56 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Patricia	Cat and mouse ... but the cat is oblivious to the fact that the little mouse is manuevring him into her field of conquest as a very controlled pace ... to her own liking and comfort. The Cheese will be eaten by the mouse but it is the Cat who will find itself caught in the trap being set ... hahaha I love it!!!!! Posted by Patricia on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 5:21 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Paula Paula Servetti	Hahah ! That it funny, I never really saw it that way, but.... too funny..hah! Posted by Paula on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 9:58 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	wolfwitch Wolf Witch	Love it! Patricia is right, the cat has no clue what a mouse he is missin' with! Posted by wolfwitch on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 6:03 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

	Paula Paula Servetti	Oh gosh this is making me crack up! Posted by Paula on Friday, May 28, 2010 - 9:58 AM [Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]

Paula Paula Servetti

Sis is holding back comment/ but I am posting this, unbeknownst to her!/ I'll wait to comment on the Mike Castro chapter, wouldn't want to give anything away. He was Hot, What a smile he had, sexy voice........etc.