Girl Lost - Part 5

                                                                 Part 5

Tyee High School 66-68
Highline Public Schools
South Seattle, WA.

It seemed like our time in Virginia ended without warning. One day we were in Hampton the next in South Seattle. Unlike the drive from Long Beach to Hampton, there were no social stops driving to Washington. In fact, my dad sharing a very rare joke was the only thing I remember from the trip.
(He swerved he said to avoid an accident between a Ford Mustang and a Ford Falcon. When we said we hadn't seen anything, he asked if we were blind and wanted to know how we could not have seen the pile of horse shit and feathers on  the side of the road.)

 Tyee was a four year high school(though it would change to a three year high school at the end of my first year there) and only a few years old at the time I was enrolled. The buildings were round with the classrooms shaped like pie wedges. Chinook Jr. High was located next to Tyee which is where my sister attended and my brother went to Bow Lake Elementary just down the road.

Our new house was barely a block behind Tyee High School. A quick walk past the track and out the back gate made it a short 5 minute walk and like the house in Hampton it was located on a cul-de-sac. Like the house in Kent, it was a rambler and Dad converted the back of it's garage into an unfinished room for me.

The neighbors to the west of us had a couple of cats and a St. Bernard. I remember being asked to come over and sit for their pet's one night as one of the cats was due to have kittens and the owner's had plans to go out. I sat there trying to study while both cats sat on the living room window sill howling their heads off. When they finally quieted down, I observed not only the cat that wasn't pregnant but the St. Bernard both carrying  kittens into the bedroom closet from the room the mama  had just delivered them in. I followed them both into the room and watched them carefully set them down next to the new mama and then go back and get the remaining kittens. So much for cats and dogs not getting along together.

Two houses to the east was one of the two classmates I knew the best which wasn't all that well - Roy B. He along with Steve C. who lived two streets further east were always together and I occasionally got to hang out with them. Roy had a head of red hair and was taller than I was. I remember once accidentally getting him into trouble with his mom. Along with Steve, the three of  us were in his bedroom and he pulled out a wad of money from his dresser to show us. At the same time his mom came down the hall calling to him. He shoved the money at me and said to hide it as he wasn't supposed to have it out.  I wasn't sure why he couldn't put it back in his dresser but I quickly shoved it in my back pocket. A week later I was talking to him and he mentioned how much trouble he was in for losing his money and he'd cleaned his room a half dozen times looking for it.  I felt the blood drain from my face and I ran from his house home. I went directly to the laundry hamper and pulled out the pants I'd been wearing earlier in the week finding the wad of bills still in the back pocket. Grabbing them I raced back to Roy's house handing him the money and reminding him how I ended up with it. He laughed it off saying not to worry that his room was the cleanest it had ever been but I've always felt badly that I'd gotten him in trouble.

Steve was just as easy going as Roy and always had something going and I was often included. His dad was building a boat in the garage and when it was finished they invited me out on it. They had it moored at Shilshole Marina and they had entered it in a race. Things went well while jockeying for position at the starting line but the last tack to have us lined up ready to start snapped the bracket that fed the lines to the rudder leaving the boat without control of the sails. His dad asked if I would try and crawl between the double hull and see if it could be repaired. I was in to about the length of my body when he grabbed my ankles and started yelling and laughing. Definitely not funny at the time.

The first time I had dinner at someone else's without my family was at Steve's. They had fried chicken which at home we would eat with our fingers but I wasn't sure about  that being proper in someone else's home. I was told to go ahead and start but forced myself to wait until his family had all started to eat. Thankfully, they all used their fingers too.

He used to have Roy and I over for game nights which were fun. Risk and Stratego were the most popular though there was an occasional late night Monopoly marathon. Like with Roy though, I managed to get Steve in trouble too. Steve and Roy were having a pillow fight in the family room and were putting a lot of muscle into it. I called out several times for them to stop but they were to focused on hitting each other to hear me. I picked up a rubber shower shoe and tossed it between them hoping to get their attention. With the force that would have made Babe Ruth proud, one of them unintentionally connected with a the flip-flop and sent it into the large plate glass window that was in the family room. The shower shoe didn't bounce off or go completely through the window. Instead, it lodged itself into the window sticking out both sides. Neither of them had realized what had happened at first and it took me a few moments to get words out of my mouth to explain what I had done. Steve's Dad wasn't all that happy but didn't lose his temper. Before sending us home he mentioned that he had an old pane in the garage that he could use to replace the damaged one. It was the last time the incident was ever mentioned.

As much as I enjoyed their company, it did little to alleviate my confusion with my identity  or sexuality.  I continued to cross-dress wearing things that my sister had outgrown under my regular clothes. I took to wearing a nylon windbreaker during classes thinking it might hide the outline of the  straps from her discarded training bras. No one ever commented on me wearing a windbreaker during the warmer weather though at times I would sweat like crazy just sitting in a classroom.

By the 10th grade, I was an emotional mess. My dad was in Thailand and I was trying to hide my thoughts and feelings from my mom. I felt that she had enough on her plate taking care of us and the house with Dad gone. In addition to identity and sexuality issues, my body was now starting to respond to girls I thought were attractive. I hadn't had a health class and the one I would have in the 11th grade did nothing to explain gender vs. sex or sexual attraction. It certainly did nothing to explain puberty or an erection. I hated the thing between my legs so bad I wanted to cut it off.  P.E. drove me even further into depression. It was bad enough having to wrestle with guys but showering with them made me feel dirty. Ironically, not only was I talked into going out for J.V. wrestling by my Science teacher but I found myself taking multiple showers a day trying to scrub off anything that might be perceived as male on my body. Though it didn't help - I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until I cried.

I took isolating myself to a new level by going down to our little community library in the evenings to do my homework. Most of the time I was the only person there other than the librarian. If  I finished it before they closed, I would just find something to read until it did close. The librarian introduced me to historical fiction that was appropriate to my age. To this day, I remember that first book - Johnny Tremaine. Over the years, I drifted away from the historical fiction to science fiction and finally mysteries. I couldn't get enough of  Phoebe Atwood Taylor (Alice Tilton, Freeman Dana), Erle Stanley Gardner (A.A. Fair), or of course Agatha Christie. I managed to collect mostly complete sets of not only their books but also the original Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Dana Girl's, Trixie Belden, Donna Parker, and Judy Bolton.

Doing my homework at the library gave me the opportunity to wear a few more items of a more feminine  nature that my sister had outgrown. Mostly, tops and  her one piece gym-suit. Walking home in the evening after the library closed was my most favorite time of the day. I was able to leave my jacket open so the blouses were visible.The library was also responsible for finally answering some of the questions I had  about who I was and what I was.

                                                           Some Answers

I had been sitting in the living room one evening and the news was on the television. Like when the radio was on and only a  Country and Western station could be played Dad had the same rule for the television but instead of  a popular program it had to be the news and not just any news but Huntley and Brinkley and Walter Cronkite. Though he was was still stationed overseas at Korat A.F.B. my mom followed suit with the news being on even if he wasn't there. This particular evening she was in the kitchen when the news announcer started talking about a woman named Christine Jorgensen who had had sex reassignment surgery from MTF. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_Jorgensen). I flew into the kitchen and asked my mom if she had ever heard of a woman named Christine Jorgensen. With her back to me, I got a curt yes followed by her asking why I wanted to know. I told her it was something they were talking about on the news. She stated that it was nothing I needed to know about and go find something else to watch.

With a name to focus on,  I spent even more time at our little library. Those were the days of  books being listed on file cards and the cards being stored by titles, authors and subjects. I was terrified  to ask the librarian for help in looking up Christine Jorgensen so I taught myself how to find things on my own. From Christine Jorgensen, I found the term transsexual and then a doctors name - a Dr. Money if I remember correctly. Unfortunately, this new knowledge  did little to calm my mood swings. Gender issues were still something that was unknown for a lot of people so even with this new knowledge I had nowhere to go with it.

As if gender and sexuality hadn't been enough for me to deal with since elementary school, high school threw a completely new curve at me. Today it would probably fall under the category of child abuse though there was no sexual contact. I had replaced my sister in babysitting for a neighbor and developed a massive crush on the baby's mom (mid to late 20's).  I didn't know how to describe the situation at the time other than to say it was embarrassing. Over the last 50 years I've learned a few terms that might have applied to the situation but I see no need to bring them up all these years later however I will say that the crush was bad enough that I would have done most anything to be around her.

                                                                     Clover Park High School
                                                             Clover Park School District No. 400
                                                                       Tacoma, Wash. 98499

Dad came home from Thailand in late 1967 or early 1968 from what I can piece together from my school records. Regardless, May of 68 found us moving again. This time just up the road to McChord AFB. The move was not without controversy however. Dad's original orders were for Otis AFB which caused my mom to go ballistic. At the time, the military had a policy that troops returning from Southeast Asia would be given one of 3 requested duty stations when possible. Dad kept it simple - anything west of the Mississippi - he got Otis. His orders to Otis were accompanied with the suggestion that he not bring the family as Otis was close to Hyannis Port, the Kennedy Compound, and housing was at a premium. Also on the downside - there was an Airman at McChord that had the same MOS and Rank as Dad and was from the Otis AFB area. How mad was Mom -  she called the President. She didn't get through but it wasn't for lack of trying and it did get Dad new orders - to McChord.

Clover Park is also a blank - no memories when it comes to classes - students - or teachers. It's like an episode of the Twilight Zone. I have the physical proof I was there in the form of my report cards and can visualize our on base apartment but that's as much as I can remember. What I do remember is getting off the bus one day behind two beautiful girls and mimicking their walk down the entry hall while holding my books up to my chest - it felt so natural. A half a minute into the building I realized what I was doing and started shaking hoping that no one had noticed. I knew then I needed to talk to someone before things got worse. I went to see my school counselor  and explained how I identified as a girl and really needed help in dealing with  the all the emotions I was experiencing. He just looked at me and said he wasn't knowledgeable enough to help and I should talk with my parents about it. Devastated didn't come close to explaining how I felt as I left his office.

A week later I came home from school to my brother meeting me at the door and telling me I was in trouble. He stated my counselor had been there all afternoon talking to our parents and had just left. He said Mom and Dad were both upstairs in our room waiting for me. I'd been mentally numb since my meeting with my counselor so I felt nothing as I walked upstairs to the bedroom. As I walked in, my mom started screaming at me telling me what a dirty filthy person I was. She was holding up a skirt and top that my sister had outgrown and I had rescued from the thrift store bag. The mattresses were pulled off the bed where I had hidden the clothes. She kept asking if I had anything else hidden while continuing to look for more of my sisters discarded clothes. I didn't volunteer that I was wearing a bra and panties under my school clothes - like I said - I had shut down after my visit with the counselor and was at a loss of words which was probably for the best considering all the yelling she was doing. She stormed out of the room followed  by my dad. He, however, paused at the bedroom door and quietly said to me that all guys go  through what I was feeling and it would pass. A little later I was called downstairs and told that my bedroom was off limits when not sleeping and I would be doing my homework at the kitchen table and I would need to find something to do downstairs when not studying. The walking on eggshells started that day with no one really talking to each other.

A day or two later my brother came running into the apartment with the mail yelling I had gotten a letter from a hospital. I grabbed it and ran upstairs ripping the envelope open. It was a reply to an application for surgery I had sent to John Hopkins. I quickly read it then ripped the application into small pieces flushing them down the toilet. I  hurried downstairs and was confronted by my mom wanting to know whom the letter was from. I told her it was just an advertisement and I'd thrown it away. That seemed to mollify her.

All this took place in late November of 1968. December 3rd found me and my siblings sitting in the living room watching The Singer Elvis Special. My parents hadn't said much since  my counselor's visit and the special was half way thru when I sensed my dad standing behind us. I heard him say that he had never cared for Elvis but he was really enjoying the special. That was the most he would say to me for the next year plus.

Girl Lost - Part 4

                                                                          Part 4

Thomas Eaton Junior High School  1965 - 1966
Hampton, Virginia

Simply put,  I remember nothing at all about the school, classes, teachers, or students. My report card shows that my grades were all over the place - even my favorite subjects reflected the wild swings in my ability to focus and concentrate.

                                                                 

                                                                                    

Now in the 8th grade I had yet to figure out what was wrong with me. Looking in the mirror I could see myself as others were seeing me but it didn't explain why or how I identified as a girl. I had heard terms like homo, lezzie, etc., in a teasing manner on the playground and buses but was to embarrassed to ask someone what they meant so I was unaware if they would have applied to me.

Apparently, we lived both off and on base while Dad was stationed at Langley. According to mom, there was a dress code of khaki trousers with white shirt and a tie required for the boys at Thomas Eaton. I have no clue what the girls were required to wear and I believe our transportation to school and back was by city bus paid by tokens.

Our house in Hampton was a nice two-story at the end of a cul-de-sac. It had a small front and back yard with the backyard running into some very thick woods. Of course, we were told to stay out of them but curiosity was just to strong. Following an overgrown path that started at the back yard, I worked my way into them. They were creepy, very creepy and the trail was littered in trash. It only got worse and by the time I reached a small creek with clothes scattered around a very small clearing the hair on the back of my neck felt like it was trying to stand on end. It was a sensation I would only experience a few more times in my life and  I was quite happy that the sensation faded after turning around and returning to our yard.

I didn't know any of the kids in our neighborhood though my sister had made a few friends. I remember how upset I got when she was invited to a slumber party next door and I wasn't. I didn't say anything but proceeded to pull myself further into my own little world.

My sister had started to sit for some of the neighbors. I had no desire to but was pressured into it. Fortunately, they were younger kids - no babies! The worst were a couple whose parents were both psychologists. They didn't believe in discipline in any form - no restrictions, timeouts, and obviously no spanking.  Once was all I sat for them and then I moved on to "Georgie" who lived two doors over from our house. His dad was a photographer for Richard Petty which I thought was cool because it was the closest I'd ever been to a celebrity. Georgie was around 12 or 13 I think. He did not have the use of his arms or legs and didn't talk but was one of the happiest kids I'd ever met. He understood what people were saying and would throw his arms about when he laughed. Georgie was a joy to be around.

I'd not seen a lot of my dad as I grew and especially now as Vietnam was ramping up.  He told me once that all the officer's (AF) records had to go across his desk before the officers could be sent to Southeast Asia and he was having to spend a lot of nights at work. There was one time, however, I remembered us all gathered together as a family and he had each of us call in a phone request to a local radio station and then a second followed by a third. The song? Ballad of the Green Berets by S/Sgt Barry Sadler. I was completely unfamiliar with  making requests and by the  third round I was sure the radio police had recognized my voice and were on the way to arrest me..

Another thing I remember about being stationed at Langley was my dad was always bringing home 8x10 glossies of Air Force planes.  We had them tacked up all over our bedroom walls.

Hampton was where I heard my parents fight for the first time. My mom yelling and dishes breaking. I found myself standing out in the front yard under the cul-de-sac's street light totally lost. I was fighting tears back as I watched a kid peddling slowly down the street towards me. It was pitch black out except for the weak light from the street lamp. When he got to me he stopped and then apologized saying he had thought I was a girl. If he would have looked back as he rode away, he would have seen a smile 10 years in the making on my face. 

Later, after I assume we had moved on base,  I was walking with my dad to his office after hours and a young black male stopped to talk to him. He was the first black person that I could remember ever meeting. After he left, I asked my dad who he was and was told it was one of the airmen who worked for him. He continued by stating that he would like nothing more than to have a half dozen more men just like him.

Going to the movies was a real treat for me when younger. Dad would drive the three of us to the movies when we lived in Kent. It was a wonderful opportunity to visualize myself  wearing the beautiful clothes worn by the actresses. Now I found myself at the movie with my Dad. He'd taken me to see The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming at the base theater.  I remember that everyone started to stand towards the beginning of movie and then the National Anthem was played. Just before it started he excused himself and went back to the restroom. My first impression was that he was trying to avoid standing there during the anthem - he was - but not because he was unpatriotic. I would later  realize he was just extremely self-conscious in public settings and avoided them like the plague. Public transportation was a last resort for him.

I mentioned him taking us to the movies occasionally in Kent. Those were the days Mom would make us each a bag of popcorn to take in - then when the movie was out - we'd call home from the phone in the theater lobby. If we were quick enough, we could just say "done" when a parent answered - hang up - and get our change back. I used to laugh and thank Ma Bell when it happened.

There was one incident that really bothered me while we were stationed there. The Civil Rights Movement was happening of which I new nothing about at the time. We were going home in the car
and I was slouched down in the back seat in my own little world. I rolled the window part way down and spit a piece of gum out the window.  As I started to roll the window up, I saw that there were three or four black youths standing there on the sidewalk talking. I could feel the blood drain from my face in embarrassment. It wasn't  because they were black - I simply shouldn't have been spitting or throwing anything out the car window. I wanted so bad to get out and apologize to them but there was no way I was going to admit to my dad that I was spitting gum from the car.

I have to drift away from the timeline at this point simply because I can't nail down a couple of events that came about while living in Virginia and later Seattle. For some reason, my mom decided that being a foster parent was something she wanted to do. Whether it was because of the strained relationship with my dad, his absence for long hours because of work, or she preferred spending time with babies, or it brought in a few extra dollars I never knew. All were infants and two of them we decided to adopt.

As it happened, they turned out to be the best siblings I could have hoped for. Tina would become a graduate of the Air Force Academy before taking her life. She was nine months pregnant at the time. Steve would get a degree in cooking and later become a wonderful Dad for his three kids.














 

Girl Lost - Part 3

                                                                         Part 3

The Road East

Almost all military families are familiar with being uprooted every few years from friends, homes, schools, personal possessions, and even their pets. Some  are able to absorb the losses while others struggle with every new move. For me, though I felt the losses, the traveling was the most enjoyable part of being a military brat. I was almost completely living inside my head by now and would use the travels and destinations to create the most safe, stable and enjoyable stories in which to hide.

Omaha was to be our first major stop. We were going to visit another of my mother's sisters. I found Aunt Eileen to be the exact opposite of how I thought my Aunt June to be. If there was a real Mrs. Claus, Aunt Eileen could have been  her. Somewhat on the portly side she smiled and laughed as she tried to wait on us hand and foot. She was one of the few people in my life who would say she was glad I was there and happy to see me and I believed it a hundred percent.

Aunt Eileen lived over a ground floor bar with two of her kids - Doreen and Billy - they were about the same age as my sister and I. It was only one flight up from the street level  but two flights from the parking lot in the back. The ones in the back were old and rickety and looked like a light wind would be sufficient to bring them down. Climbing up them was scary. I just knew the stairs would either break dropping me down to the ground or the staircase would pull away from the building wall
falling away from the building into the gravel parking lot carrying me with it.

                                                                           

It was a short visit and it went by way to quickly. Billy was excited to show us all his model crazy cars  that decorated his bedroom.

                                                                                   

Day two saw all the kids sent off to the movies while the adults visited. We walked to the theater and on the way we passed a Piggly Wiggly. I'd never heard of them and haven't seen one since but loved giggling every time someone said it's name.

                                                                             

The matinee was Blue Hawaii with Elvis. I loved everything about it and swore that if I ever got married it would be in Hawaii at the same location as the wedding scene, on a raft with a recording of Elvis singing the Hawaiian Wedding Song playing in the background.

                                                                                   

The next day we were on the road again. Next stop was supposed to be Johnson City, Tennessee, where my dad had been born but we ran into into a car issue in which a gas station outside of St. Louis (Mom had no desire to visit anyone from her hometown) filled our gas tank up with water. The area had been experiencing heavy rains and the station had apparently left a cover off one of it's tanks. After being towed and the tank emptied and refilled, our journey continued.

One of the best parts driving across the country was stopping for meals. Mom always made sure we had 3 meals a day but they were budget dictated - tuna casserole, chicken casserole, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, meatloaf and usually on Sunday's fried chicken or pork-chops.  And, if we were really lucky - not - LIVER!   The Howard Johnsons' were okay but were to similar to mom's everyday cooking and it was a hassle to park, get seated, decide what we were going to get (as opposed to what we wanted), order, then try and sit there patiently waiting for the food. But McDonald's! Give me a cheeseburger with pickles and small fry and I was as close to happy as I could get for the next 200-300 miles. And, we didn't even have to get out of the car to get our food!

Johnson City, Tennessee

I knew my dad had been born a Johnson in Johnson City so I was excited to see his hometown.  His last name changed after his mom divorced and moved to San Francisco and he was adopted by her new husband. It was going to be very short visit - just a few hours. We drove up a very narrow road flanked by tall trees. The road up the  hill was long and steep. Steep enough that I found myself wishing I could get out and walk it because I was having serious doubts on whether or not the car was going to make it.

Our destination was a very, very large house that sat at the top of the hill. It had a huge front porch and maybe because of the faded paint it reminded me of the house from the movie Psycho. Everyone seemed happy to see my dad and the adults all sat out on the porch and visited for an hour or so while we kids were left to meander around the yard and stretch our legs (plus kids were still supposed to be seen and not heard) and then we were back on the road.

We finally reached Hampton, VA., where we would live while my dad was stationed at Langley AFB. I think my parents were very glad that trip was over.

Girl Lost - Part 2

Part 2

                                                                    California.

Defense Secretary McNamara decided to start closing smaller military facilities and we found ourselves moving  to Long Beach, CA.  We ended up living at 360 Smith street.  At the time we lived there, it was a worn and tired little house with a small garage off to the side. (I googled it and it looked like it had been completely remodeled and found the last time it had sold it went for about $78,000.) My folks set up bunk beds just inside the back door across from the water heater to share with my brother.

Long Beach was where I bought my very first item of girls clothing on my own. Nylons! We had a small neighborhood store a few blocks down the street and right by the door there was a display of  them. I didn't know the difference between nylons, pantyhose or tights but I knew how they made girls and women's legs look and I thought it might help my mindset if mine looked nice like theirs. It took a few more visits before I was able to build up a enough  courage to buy my them. I was sent for milk and after grabbing a gallon I paused at the display - selected a package -  read the size chart on the back and picked out the correct size. It felt like my whole body was shaking and sweat was pouring down my face. I was sure the clerk could see my heart pounding as I stepped up to the counter and paid. She bagged the items and I was out the door in a matter of seconds. She didn't even give me a glance. I got about a half block down the street - pulled the package out of the bag - shoved it down the front of my pants - took some very deep breaths trying to calm myself - and headed home. I took to hiding them up in the eves of the garage.  It had taken me 13 years to have something feminine of my own but I had finally done it!

Long Beach was also where I learned to skateboard. No tricks like today's kids just a plain old method of transportation. Rode it to Huntington Beach and back - once. It didn't help that it had the old style wooden wheels that stopped instantly when they came in contact with even the smallest piece of gravel.

                                                                            

Long Beach Unified School District
Hamilton Junior High School - 7th Grade

I hated it. In part because it was junior high and I had to go  to different locations for each class and have different teachers in most. Didn't and don't like change. It didn't help that I was completely overwhelmed by my gender and sexuality issues. If it wasn't for a new crush, Patty D., I wouldn't  remember any students at the school. She was the only one I remember having talked to while there and she'd sit with me at lunch and visit.

I had mixed feelings about the teachers.  I had Ms. Latham for English 7, and then History and Geography. Only received C's which was sad because I had a minor crush on her.  P.E. got me an A which was probably given out to every student that showed up because I spent most of my time hiding behind the other kids. If no one was going to let me participate as a girl,  I was going to be invisible as much as possible during gym class I decided.

Art and Industrial Drawing were both B's. I had a love hate relationship with both Art and the teacher.  Did my most favorite drawing but hated having my work critiqued.  I felt I was drawing for me which didn't always translate to what the teacher wanted. I then found myself upset with him after he presented an attitude in criticizing a football action pose he was making me hold for the class to draw.  He probably would have gotten more cooperation if he had let me chose a more feminine pose.

Music! I hated the class. We had to study opera but basically without a teacher present. He'd come in and put an opera record on then leave for the hour to go help with the school talent show he was going to direct. The only thing  I learned was that they were Italian operas and one was The Barber of Seville and the other was Tosca. At the end of the week, he would stay long enough to hand out a quiz and then disappear again until the end of class.
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to study for something in which I didn't understand the language so I didn't even try. Grade in that class - a "D". The only one I ever got.

While there, I went an all area schools' talent show at the Hollywood Bowl with the other students from our school. I can only remember one of the performances. It was by a young black teenager about 13 or 14 years old. He sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic and by the the time he'd finished  I was covered in goosebumps from his amazing performance.

There was, however, a more exciting event for me at the show. Door prizes were randomly being handed out between  the performances and I was called up to the stage to receive one. Returning to my seat with my small box I was totally self - conscience thinking everyone in the Bowl was watching me. At my seat, I unwrapped the box to find a pair of earrings and necklace - the perfect prize even though I couldn't wear them! Unfortunately, my excitement didn't last long because when I got home it was "suggested" my mom might like them and I ended up giving them to her. I had wanted to keep them so bad I came close to tears but at the same time I was happy that I could give her something nice.

Church

There were a few things that happened on the local stage outside of school that helped to expand my perspective of life beyond my limited scope of a 7th grader. The first was attending church. We didn't go often but the one occasion that comes to mind was when the family walked over on a Sunday to a nearby church. My siblings and I went into the Sunday school class and my parents went into the adult's service.  When class was over, we waited out on the church porch with the other kids for our parents to get out of services. I was shocked at how fast their potty mouths came out as the others in the class teased and bad mouthed each other.

Then it was the adults turn. As they came out the door, their foul mouths also kicked in and I remember one parishioner immediately voicing his anger at how long the service had gone past it's scheduled time.  I was already lost over the concept of a god and now seeing the effect of  what going to church was having on both the kids and adults (none?) left me even more confused. What was their purpose in attending?

On a more positive note, we had to walk by a cage in someone's yard that contained a large monkey. Pausing to see it was definitely more enjoyable then going to Sunday school, I thought.

                                                                      Watts

The second major incident was the Watts Riots. We lived about 8 miles from the Watts area and pictures of the fires, rioting and looting were constantly on TV and in the paper. The violence would eventually spread to other areas of Los Angeles and south to Long Beach. I didn't really understand the whys at the time and no one seemed interested in explaining them to me which was fine as I was dealing with my own issues. (I was only an immature 7th grader who should only be seen and not heard after all.)

Mom did express concern about us returning to school in late August or early September as we didn't know how long the riots would last. We did walk to school but the only thing she should have worried about was me stopping at Winchell's Donuts everyday on the way home.
                                                                         

Watts riots
Burning buildings during the riots
Date	August 11–16, 1965
Location	Watts, Los Angeles
Goals	To end mistreatment by the police and to end discrimination in housing, employment, and schooling systems
Methods	Widespread rioting, looting, assault, arson, protests, firefights, property damage, murder
Resulted in	The people of Watts being left unemployed in poor conditions
Casualties
Death(s)	34
Injuries	1,032
Arrested	3,438

                                                                Signal Hill

One of the most amazing things I saw while living there was when we would drive by the Signal Hill oil fields.  At 13, I knew nothing about oil but I was fascinated with the towers and pumps and my nose was always up against the car windows trying to get a better view. I would end up creating so many stories in my head  about them while we lived there (especially having previously seen Superman and the Mole-Men when younger).

                                                              


                                                                        


Secretary of Defense McNamara would strike again and the facility my dad was at was closed. Next stop - Langley A.F.B.

Girl Lost - My Struggles With Mental Health, Gender Identity, Sexuality, And Other Unexpected Challenges

Part One

Writing this is probably not the best idea I've ever had but want to get a few memories and thoughts down while I still can. I'm not a writer so this may be lacking in proper grammar  and style. It most likely will not have any full names as I occasionally get them confused. Though I'm still fairly good with events, the timeline is beginning  to crumble in places - so a "c" event may come before a "b" event.
Also, not sure about allowing comments. There's a of of hate in the world, especially online.  If you are a hater, I've already experienced these struggles and am satisfied with where I'm at on this journey. I survived it without your help so please keep your hateful thoughts to yourself.

The Beginning

Monday, 23 June 1952, the day my journey began.

I was born at Fairchild AFB outside Spokane, WA.  I weighed in at 6 lbs 4.5 ounces and was 20.5 inches in length with brown eyes according to my "Baby's Own Book". 

My mom was born  a Westerkamm in St. Louis in 1936.  Dad was a Johnson (before being adopted) from Johnson City, Tennessee and was born in 1928. Both came from broken homes with my mom's also being abusive.

Dad was stationed at Fairchild. Mom was staying with her dad and step-mother in Spokane. They were married at Ft. George Wright outside Spokane in 1951. She was 15 and he was 23. I came along 9 months later. At the time, we lived in Spokane on Monroe Street.

My sister came along in August of 1953 and by December  of 1955 I had a new brother. When Dad's enlistment was up, we moved to San Francisco across the street from my dad's mom while he was trying to make ends meet.  Eventually, he ended up reenlisting but this time into the Navy. He was now to be stationed at Sand Point NAS in Seattle.

Sand Point N.A.S.

60+ years and the memories are in most cases sharper then some that are only a few years old. Using a stick (covered in nails) to climb onto the rail of my little brother's crib (which was set up in the back yard) almost cost me an eye. I fell trying to balance myself on it.. A nail ripped open the skin just below my eye leaving me with a faint life-long scar.  An attempt to run away from home was next. I was only about  4  or 5 so this was a major undertaking. I made it to the corner but as I wasn't allowed to cross the street  by myself so had to stop. I ended up turning around and walking the 1/2 block home. Another was riding in our car with  Mom as she tried to teach herself to drive. She would practice in a vacant dirt lot at the end of the street. She didn't seem to pleased as she struggled with shifting and working the clutch.while the car jerked its way across the lot.

By the age of three or four, I had started to struggle with my identity. I was referred to as a "boy" and my sister as a "girl" but the differences seemed to elude me. I considered myself a girl and was attracted to all the things that she was doing and getting - from fun clothes and colorful hair ribbons to a lot of attention.  I was probably more excited then she was about her things. As my parents didn't talk much to us other then to tell us to go play or get ready for dinner or bed,  I found myself very confused with their inability to see I was just as much of a girl as my sister and at my own inability to communicate these feelings. 

Soon we were moving again. This time my Dad was back in the Air Force. Mom would later tell me he hated every day he was in the Navy. This enlistment had us going to the first of his two deployments  to Germany. 

I was excited. It was to be my first plane ride.  The plane was a Constellation (with the three tails). It had a cabin crew staffed by entirely by stewardesses and I had never seen anything like them. I don't know if the word beautiful was in my vocabulary but  I was mesmerized. Every time they went by I was looking to see if they were real. I was excited  by their uniforms with the scarfs and caps and by the time we landed I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up - a stewardess!

                                                                         

Germany - The USAFE Dependents' Schools (57 - 60)

Dad was stationed at Ramstein A.F.B. We were originally quartered off-base in Vogelweh  (near Kaiserslautern Army Base) on the 2nd floor of a German house. Next to the house was the  remains of an old house that had probably been leveled in the war. It was basically a  hole in the ground with just the hint of the original brick and mortar walls remaining.  There was a very distinct aroma of wet dirt, brick, and mortar that still manages to creep into my senses when I least expect it all these decades later.

Vogelweh was where I had my first experience with Halloween.  It was dark out and I could hear kids laughing outside. Looking across the room I watched my "first " pumpkin glide past the window on a long pole.. I ran over in time to see a small group of kids with  more pumpkins bobbing up and down on poles. It was quite the site and a  good introduction to Halloween for this very young visitor to a new country.

Mom had kept all my certificates and report cards throughout my school  years. May and June of 1958  start with  certificates showing I was a member of the "Kaiserslautern American Kindergarten" and a Certificate of Promotion from the Kindergarten to the Primary l Department of the Vogelweh Chapel Sunday School.

By the time I actually started the first grade, we'd moved  to the "stairwell apartments" at Kaiserlauten. They were four stories - no elevators - and we were on the fourth floor. We lived there through part of 1960 school year. Those three years were an education in pain. First I managed to fall out of a tree breaking my arm. I screamed so loud as I tried to walk back to our apartment (while pushing my bike) that a man living in one of the other "stairwell apartment" buildings came down from the top floor of his to help me get home. This incident was followed by me hopping off the top bunk and landing on  the steel ladder of a large toy metal fire truck.  I managed to almost slice a toe off. In the emergency room,  it took four people to hold me down while they stuck a needle into the cut then proceeded to sew it up. My screaming was on par with that the broken arm.

These two incidents were followed  by me getting hit in the throat from a  hard hit baseball in a sandlot ballgame. We were playing in a small  corner of the apartments and the batter was about 15 feet away. Fortunately, at that age - hard hit was a relative term. 

 Another memory from Kaiserlauten involved firecrackers and a girl younger then I was. Some older boys (10 - 12) were at the playground playing with firecrackers and, as I watched, they lit one and dropped it down the back of the little girl's top. She put my earlier screams to shame and I've hated firecrackers ever since.

I don't remember any kids or teachers from Kaiserslautern and other than the one adult who helped me get home after falling from the tree there's only one other that made any kind of impression on me while we were still in Germany. We had company and the guest was sitting to my left at the booth like table when I knocked my glass of milk off the table. While it was still in the air, he reached across me and snagged it mid-air without it spilling a drop and saving me from a trip to the "doghouse". (We had a little wooden doghouse on the wall with our names on little dogs that could be hanged from it.)

Like most kids, music was an integral part of my life growing up and my love for it started to form while we lived in Germany. A show called Hillbilly Reveille on the Armed Forces Radio Network was my first introduction  into what would later be known as the  Golden Age of Country Music. I hated the term "hillbilly"as I got older but the music itself would become another  place I could escape to as I struggled with growing up to fit society's preconceived ideas of male and female.

Two songs stick out - one by Patti Page and the other by Johnny Horton (though I was to young to  know the singers at the time). We were eating at the table when the one from Ms. Page started  playing. My Dad was already standing and told us to stop eating and stand-up. We slowly put down our utensils and looking at each other started to stand.  From the expressions on my sister's and brother's face, they were as confused as I was. He said he had thought he'd taught us better and knew to stand when the "National Anthem" played. Ms. Page was singing the Tennessee Waltz. Knowing how proud he was  of being from Tennessee I was never quite sure if it was a teasing or serious.moment. 

 The Johnny Horton song was Battle of New Orleans and its up tempo beat was the trigger to want to hear more music. I could easily disappear into my head while listening and eventually I would have a collection of about 3500 records from the 50's and 60's ranging from C and W to Pop Vocal and 50's R and R.

The third grade school year (60-61) was interrupted by my dad getting orders back to the U.S.

Flying  back was done on a MAT flight and we had a cabin crew consisting of all stewards. So sad. I had been looking forward to seeing the stewardesses again.

Back In The USA 

Seattle Public Schools  (60- 61)

Seattle again and now attending Brighton Elementary to finish the remaining part of the 3rd  grade. I remember nothing about the kids, teachers or school. But do remember the housing area - Holly Park - near South Beacon Hill. We lived in a 2-story apartment. It had wooden floors and stairs that Mom would buff after waxing using a brick wrapped in cloth on the end of a pole.

We were only there long enough to finish the school year (a few months) but a couple of eye opening  events happened while there. The first was my introduction to snakes. I was walking up the sidewalk -  barefoot - when one came out of the tall grass and slithered over the top of my foot. Nothing new - I screamed. To this day, whenever I see a snake,  I look for alternate ways to get past it even it means going around the block.

The other major incident was the first among several that would lower my trust level with people for the rest of my life. I'd walked down the street and purchased  some candy at a nearby store. I made my selection from the hugest glass display of candy I had ever seen. The counter portion had been higher then my head and about 6 feet wide. I was walking away when the clerk called me back saying I had change coming. Leaning across the glass case she handed me the change and I thanked her again then headed for the exit. I'd barely gotten 10 feet when there was a terrifying crash causing me to jump. The glass from the case had popped out and was now in millions of pieces on the floor. I watched as the clerk pointed me out to a coworker and said it wasn't her fault but mine because I had been in a hurry and forgotten my change. I'd never touched the counter. Her leaning into it to be able to reach over the top was most likely what caused it. Everyone was looking at me but I knew better than to challenge an adult. I quickly left and never returned.

Manners

Yes sir, no mam to all adults -  in or out of uniform -military or civilian - period! Hold a door open for everyone -not just adults - but even other kids if they were within a few steps of the door I was holding open. Please and thank-you. Nothing hard and pretty much standard for growing up in a military family. Chores and homework before playing (homework could be done after dinner in winter when it got dark early). 

Though strict, I never felt mistreated or abused by my parents. (Mom did mention a few years ago that I had talked back to my dad once when I was younger and he had tried to slap me only to end  up breaking his finger on the fridge when I ducked. She said it was the only time that he'd tried to hit me.) Hearing the story surprised me because it never dawned on me to question either of them when told to do something. It just seemed easier to do what I was told and it seemed to keep everyone happy. Keeping everyone happy instead of myself became my ball and chain for most of my life.

We rarely talked. "Kids should be seen and not heard" I was told by my Mom. I always why with that attitude my mom even wanted kids. I think this was one of the reasons why I never bonded with them and it would take so long to try and talk to anyone about things I didn't understand. With my dad, simply put, he was rarely around. Again, no bonding.

 Kent Public Schools  - 61 - 64

4th - 5th - 6th Grades - Scenic Hill Elementary 

After my 3rd Grade school year, we moved to Kent in south King County. My folks had bought a small house in a new community being built out in the vicinity of Lake Meridian just off 124th on 121st. It cost $10,500 with $10 down and $75 a month according to my mom. Dad converted part of the garage into a small bedroom for me which quickly became my  private little world. I spent a huge part of the next few years in that room creating an alternate world in my head where everyone in it saw me as the girl I knew I was.  My friends were the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden,  and of course Annette.

Scenic Hill was about 20 minutes away on the school bus. I wasn't into the classes as much as I should have been - my mind was always drifting - mostly daydreaming that the other girls would accept  me into their world. At recesses and lunch, I became like a small puppy following them around hoping to be accepted as one of them.  I was only in the 4th, 5th and 6th grades during those years but I still remember several of them - probably more so than all of the other girls combined that I would meet through the rest of my school years - Sue and Sally (the twins), Janet C., Sheila B., Gretchen, and sisters Vicki and Jodi were  a few. 

At one time or another (and sometimes simultaneously), I think I had crushes on each of them as much as prepubescent child could have. Not only had I never heard of gender identity but homosexuality was just as unknown to me.  Sheila B. was super cute with her short hair and I would look forward to the times Dad would take me into town for books at the library because she had been there on one visit. Though I don't remember speaking to her, every time  I heard "Sheila" by Tommy Roe I would think of her. Janet C.was as beautiful as Sheila B. was cute and Jodi S. (Vicki's younger sister) turned out to my first kiss. I was chasing her and her sister around at the far end of the playground when they both ran into the trees that bordered the schoolyard. I followed  grabbing a low hanging branch as I caught up to where they were waiting. I found myself hanging upside down while both sisters giggled and Jodi walked up and kissed me on the lips before they both took off running back out onto the playground.
Years later I would take the name Jodi for my own.

Ton F. was my only male friend while we lived there. He lived a block or two over with three sisters - Cheryl, Daryl and Bonnie - all beautiful - and with the latter two being older they were added to my list of crushes. 

My clumsiness continues... 

I remember being out under the school awning playing with the girls when the bell rang for classes. I spun around and stepped into a steel support beam that had only been inches from my back. My eyes watered at the collision and I found myself clutching the beam as I slid to the ground. A lot of giggling surrounded me. Another time, again with the girls, I found myself trying to race against one. We were both down in a sprinters starting position when someone called "go". I pushed off but with no blocks to brace my feet against I found myself landing face first onto the sidewalk as my feet slid out behind me. Again, more giggling followed.

School Dance

The early 60's were the end of classic 50's sound of Rock and Roll but except for an occasional cross-over song on the radio all I was ever exposed to was Country and Western music. It only seemed appropriate therefore that the only school function I got to attend was a square-dance.  I didn't understand the directions being called and it didn't help having to pretend to be one of the guys so I worked hard at holding a wall up while others danced.

Cross-dressing...

Some of the girls were wearing square dance dresses with full petticoats under them and I wanted so bad to be out there wearing one of my own. I had already been trying on my sisters clothes when I was home alone and one time my sister and brother even created a game where first my younger brother was "knocked out" and redressed in one of her dresses to be followed by the same being done to me. On a scheduled Sunday outing to Woodland Park Zoo, I feigned being sick and convinced my parents that I needed to stay home. Over the next few hours, I tried on every skirt, blouse and top my sister owned while checking out their fit in the mirror.

There was nothing sexual about the cross-dressing.  I was still (potentially) years from puberty but I was finding it to be the only way I had to reaffirm how I felt as well as a way to even out my ever increasing anxiety and mood swings. Cross-dressing would really calm me down though as I got older even the dressing wasn't enough to do the job. I really needed to bring my feelings (and dressing) out of the closet but I simply didn't know how to talk to my parents about it.


The Seattle World's Fair - 1962 

My aunt - Mom's older sister - lived on Queen Anne Hill overlooking the fair. It was an awesome location with the entire fair being visible from her front porch and only a 7-8 minute walk to the closest ticket gate. With my aunt playing tour guide, she took us  down to the fair. It was both exciting and terrifying - mostly terrifying. I'd never seen so many people in one place let alone pushing, shoving and bumping into each other and the sounds and the smells - it was sensory overload for this 10 year old. To this day, I still try to avoid crowds and noise whenever possible.

After a morning of covering as many of the rides and sites as we could, it was time to leave but our aunt had one more stop she wanted to make. She asked if we would be interested in visiting a cruise ship docked down at the water. I didn't reply as fast as my siblings and she called me on it asking why I didn't want to the ship. Embarrassed, I muttered that I had spent all my money at the fair.  She then proceeded to read me the riot act stating that when someone invites me somewhere it was a given that they meant to pay. I was in tears. I apologized. She asked again if I wanted to go with my siblings to see the ship and I quietly said yes.

 https://www.cruiselinehistory.com/the-s-s-acapulco-1950s/

No stewardesses but the S.S. Acapulco was still exciting. After touring the ship, she let us attend the onboard movie - Toby Tyler.  I loved the movie - everything about it - but mostly Mademoiselle Jeanette (Barbara Beaird). Something changed in me when I saw her.  She was different then the girls I knew from school. Like my inability to understand my identity issue, I didn't understand my intense attraction to her. From that day forward though, my attraction to girls was more then just wanting to be accepted and recognized as one of them.

Elvis
 
I had never heard of Elvis (my favorite singer) and wouldn't for a few more years but looking back I find it interesting that he was stationed in Germany at the same time we were stationed there and that he had just finished making the movie It Happened at the World's Fair right before I attended the same fair with my aunt. He would also be performing in Phoenix the day I left for boot camp (September 9, 1970). Not big coincidences but ones that would be fun retelling  along with a few others when his name would come up over the years.