3.34 La Habra High (part 2)

Dave and Cathy, Sep 1966

1964-1966 • La Habra High School ~ In my senior year I had my second high school romance with another boy in my class, Dave Sheldon. He was a nice guy with a streak of worldliness, but had a neediness about him that kept me at arm’s length. He wrote in my yearbook, “Cathy, I wanted to find a space where I could say more but I guess I was on the end of your list. Good luck, especially in Europe. It really is a wonderful place and I know you’ll have a marvelous and memorable time. If I can make it down from Berkeley, see you next year. Dave.”

Don and Cathy

The only other high school date was with Don Dessens, a blonde surfer two inches shorter and ten degrees quieter than me. He took me to our LHHS Homecoming Dance. We said hardly a word to one another the whole night, and I don’t think we danced more than two dances. Neither of us knew what to say, so we sat next to each other in folding chairs along the gym wall in awkward silence. I didn’t go to any of the sock hops. I felt graceless and klutzy on the dance floor unless it was a slow dance, and I didn’t really know how to do that either. I remember watching my sisters jitterbug and bop to “Johnny B. Goode” and “Tutti-Frutti,” in awe at how fast and rhythmic their moves were. Cutting a rug was not my forte; actually, making it across the room without tripping or knocking into furniture was dicey at best.

Bob, Riordon H.S. 1964

In my last two years of high school I also had a summer boyfriend, Bob, who of course Dad didn’t like. Bob Sevenau was my stepsister Irene’s husband’s younger brother. Bob’s father, a Sergeant on the San Francisco Police Force, fixed all his speeding tickets. His mother held his hand until he was twelve. A Mission Dolores and Riordan boy who lived in the Parkside, he was going to San Francisco State, worked three jobs, lived at home with his family, and wrote me letters signed, “keep good thoughts.” I was in love and he was all I could think about. My brown paper-bag book covers were camouflaged front and back with his name penned inside red hearts. Two years older, Bob brimmed with confidence and bravado, with a bad boy “don’t know, don’t care” attitude.

Kay 1966 LHHS

Eric 1966 LHHS

I spent my summers and Christmas vacations in San Francisco, but my main life was in La Habra, so Bob drove down in his Plymouth and took me to the Springtime Ball and my Senior Prom. I made my dresses for both dances and had heels dyed to match, and Kay Grether did my hair. She did my hair for my graduation picture too. Kay did everyone’s hair for the dances and graduation. Prepping included 1,000 bobbie pins, scores of plastic rollers, numerous cans of hairspray, fake hair pieces, and styrofoam heads. The smell of Aquanet, which could hold hair in a hurricane, enveloped everything. She had appointments on the hour from 8 a.m. until late afternoon, and when everyone was done, she readied herself for her prom date with Eric Hodges, an easy-going guy who liked to party and body surf. Kay was as handy with a sewing machine as she was with a teasing comb. Her father, overly strict, was continually putting her on restriction for questioning his decisions, and when she persisted, he extended her restriction even further; she spent a lot of her high school nights in her room, falling asleep with patterns and pins scattered across her bed.

Cathy and Bob, Spring Ball

Sallie Collier and I became close friends, sharing tears about boyfriends and family over hamburgers at Bob’s Big Boy. After my third year of Russian, I could finally remember the letters of the alphabet; it looked a lot like algebra, which made no sense either. Laura continued ferrying me to and from high school. Carleen let me go to Palm Springs for a week during spring break with a group of girls in my class. It was my first taste of freedom and it was wild, Palm Canyon Drive lined with boys, bikinis, and beer as far as the eye could see. Like lemmings, thousands of high school and college kids descended yearly upon the desert town. One of the girl’s aunts chaperoned us, but we barely saw hide nor hair of her.

Life was good. Actually, life was excellent. For the first time in my life, I fit in. It finally didn’t matter that I may have been the only person in my high school of 3,000 students who lived with a family that had a different last name and whose parents were divorced and married five times between the two of them. It didn’t matter that I was 5’9″, that my capped front tooth didn’t match my other teeth, that I wore a padded bra. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a straight-A student or a cheerleader or class anything. All that stuff didn’t matter any more. I was fine the way I was.

Sallie, date, Cathy, Bob; Senior Prom LHHS 

to be continued…

© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
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