OK, that’s better. I made it past number 13…(breathe)
I was born in downtown Los Angeles at California Hospital and have lived within 15 miles of that hospital I’d say my entire life. I’m not sure if that is an accomplishment to be proud of or not. On one hand I could be thought of as provincial, a rube-ette in a manner of speaking. If you happen to love L A… well, you might think something else. I spent a good part of my early life trying to leave my home. I attended Marlborough School for Girls in the Hancock Park section of L.A. and that experience along with the very very tight apron strings that my mother choked me on fueled the hope that I could make tracks asap and head for New York City.
I graduated from High School in 1967 at age 17 — the summer of love they called that summer — but if you only think of the social norms and conventions of the era in terms of the counterculture, you need to remember that the same state that brought peace love and flowers also brought Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and the men that put them in power.
If I had been schooled at convent I could not have been more isolated than at that school. my classmates had had the best education money could buy. I came to the school from public school — my father was a physical education and drivers ed teacher / coach at Hamilton High School on the cusp of Culver City. And he was Jewish. Democrat.
The daughters of Richard Nixon had attended Marlborough, so had the daughters of Walt Disney, the Doheny’s, the 400, the Blue Book members of the Social Register all had gone there. When I began in the 10th grade most of the girls had known each other since grade school, cotillion or volunteer social groups. They were not cruel to me by any stretch of the imagination. It felt even worse: I was invisible.
How did I deal with it? Anorexia. Depression. The beginnings of the mental illness that had started after my sister (the scapegoat) had left the family and my mother could turn her attention on me. Still interested? More to come.