Playing hooky

Tony and Cindy, 1968

 My dad had one sister. After 9 boys, my Aunt Ruth was the youngest of 10. She followed my dad out to California with her husband and 5 kids around spring of 1963. There is a lot to her  story, but I’m only here to tell you about one day. 

When they first moved out they lived with us for a time. Uncle Hank was a tall man who resembled Johnny Cash. He was still drinking at the time and his unpredictable temper and deep voice terrified me. The kids at that time (the family continued to grow) were Cheryl, Katrina, Jeffry, Dennis, and Cindy. 

Cheryl was a few years older than I was, maybe 11. Her mom had only ever read the name, and pronounced it as Churl. Trina was almost a year older than me. Jeffery was called Tony, and just below me by about 6 months. Dennis and Cindy were younger, so were not walking with us to the school bus each morning. 

The morning walk was almost a mile uphill. In Topanga, we were surrounded with distractions of the beauty of nature. There were small side trails that led to interesting rocks and small creek beds. About halfway to the bus stop one favorite small path led down to a small creek bed that only flowed with water when it rained. It was beautiful with some hanging trees and moss covered rocks. The path was lined with ferns. Only a few steps off the road we were hidden from view. There was a larger bush just beyond that provided privacy if a child suddenly needed to potty on that long walk. 

This one morning Cheryl was the one who wanted us to stop. We were only there a few minutes, Trina, Tony, and I were at the dip of the dry creek, about to head back up the narrow path to the road, when Cheryl blocked our way. 

“Why don’t we all stay here and skip school today?” We protested and tried to go around, but she was bigger. She held us back, argued with us, pushed, yelled, made us stay there. I don’t know how long we were stuck, I don’t know how or why we finally moved on. But finally we got free. 

By the time we got to the bus stop, we were too late, everyone was long gone. We were free of Cheryl’s control, and against her continued harangueing we began to walk the route the bus took down Fernwood Pacific Drive to try to find our way to school. We hadn’t gotten very far when a parent I knew drove by. I can’t quite remember for sure, but I think it was Mrs. Ware in a VW bus. After some exchange of words, she drove us to school and the school called our parents. We completed the day as usual from that point, but we were In Trouble. It hung over each of our heads like dark clouds. 

When we got home, we explained how it was all Cheryl. We said how she trapped us, how she made us, how we tried to get past her but she was too big. Didn’t matter. Uncle Hank passed down sentence on his kids, after dinner they would be spanked with his belt. My dad told me that in fairness, to keep peace between the families, I had to face the same punishment from him. 

To my memory that was the only time I was spanked in such an orderly, delayed manner. Other times, one of my parents (usually my dad) would have reached a point of anger or aggravation and just grab my arm and swat me on the butt a few times. Occasionally, my dad would use his belt or a switch on my legs. But this is the only time I remember waiting, being pulled across his lap, and having a belt used on my butt. I really don’t think my dad’s heart was in it. 

Aunt Ruth’s family only lived with us a few months. My dad had bought another house in disrepair on the next street, and Uncle Hank worked on it with my dad to get it habitable. He also worked with my dad in his business for a time. Eventually Uncle Hank found work on the far side of Los Angeles, I believe he was a welder. I’m sure I will tell other stories about them. 

After they moved on, my parents sold the house to two men. One of the men had adopted brothers who had been orphaned. I remember David in my classes. I think his older brother was Gary, can’t quite remember if there was a third brother who was younger. My dad once implied to me that the two men were a couple. Of course, at that time it wasn’t something you would talk about openly to kids. My dad really admired them for taking on and raising those brothers so they could stay together. If anyone in our community had a problem with it, I never heard a word. But that was Topanga, and different was the norm. 

I didn’t want to play hooky that day. In fact, I usually preferred going to school over staying home. School routines and rules were way more predictable. I liked my cousins, but I liked them better when we visited back and forth than when they shared my room and we had to wait for the one bathroom. But I always remained in fear of their dad, even after he stopped drinking. Even after he became a preacher.