#24 Going to Texas

Lucky Little

#24 - Going to Texas

Virginia's story

I wouldn’t be writing this story if it wasn’t for Bobby finding me almost 20 years ago. With no money, few leads and no internet, it could only have been God that led him to me. For 30 years I had carried the secret. I wouldn’t have this property and school in San Francisco if I had stayed in Houston or Kentucky. I wouldn’t have had the experiences with all the wonderful teachers I have encountered on this journey. So I have to believe this is the will of God for me also. He has brought me to a place where I can not only learn who I am, but to also learn how to live a life which allows that love to flow through me into the world about me, and open minds to receive me – true to the San Francisco vibe, the reason I have been drawn back to this place.

So the real span of my story begins during a cold Kentucky winter in 1965, then to Houston, Texas where at the age of 18 I gave birth to a child. Steve and I signed him over to be adopted by my doctor’s best friends, another doctor, or so I thought. Then moving on to San Francisco to be a part of the Hippie Movement, to moving all over the place, having 4 more children from two separate abusive relationships, to finally ending back in San Francisco living 7 blocks south of Haight Street, owning and teaching in my own preschool, living happily at age 67. There are still many more blanks to fill in.

Since I have been inspired by my first son Bobby to participate in this writing marathon, I will begin with this chapter. Okay, in a nutshell imagine this, a preacher’s daughter, small town Kentucky 1965, with a real sense of urgency to be socially integrated with “the world” – “the adolescent social world”. Now 'the preacher’s daughter', which by the way was who I was frequently referenced as, was tall, lean, still a bit awkward, and not what you might term sensually attractive. From the outside I appeared thusly. My inner self however was yet to be brought forth. There the spark of femininity, sensuality, an urge for closeness burned, and by far the hottest spark, was the need to be accepted. With my clear, unblemished skin, long beautiful virgin dark brown hair, intense yet gently sad brown eyes and perfectly pure and innocent approach to life, I was waiting to be recognized.

Always feeling a bit less than the robust, not vocal, giddy or fashioned minded like the country club girls, 'the preacher’s daughter' never felt she could get into the popular crowd, so I set my sights on the underdog. I could be something to them. I had love, happiness and vulnerability. I never felt I was better than anyone else, I was always ready to please and to be accepted, all of which the underdog needs. I soon found the one and when he wasn’t drinking beer or working on his 1964 red 409 Chevy Impala SS, or drag racing, he made a little time for me. The time he made for me in June of 1965, the night of our graduation, in the back seat of the red 409, I conceived.

It was probably in June, no later than July, when the dreaded morning sickness reared its sickly head. I soon realized what is was and began the scheming of my life. There was no way I was going to embarrass my parents, there was no way I could share this with anyone but my sweetheart. But I had to make a plan because number one in my mind was not the baby, not the boyfriend, and not myself. It was my parents and how dreadful they would feel being the minister and minister’s wife with a pregnant, unmarried 17 yr old daughter, in 1965.

I wasn’t even going to take the chance. So I promptly announced that we wanted to marry and if it wasn’t accepted then we would simply elope. This was the beginning of a long and complicated journey I would put my parents through. To this day I regret putting my parents through it and often say if I had it to do over I would do it differently. While on the other hand I don’t regret it because of the children I have, the experiences I have had, the knowledge I’ve obtained and the fact that it has brought me to where I am today, very, very happy and looking forward to more.

So since my parents of course wanted this to work, although they knew my groom was from an alcoholic family, divorced, no fabric of faith and love as a basis for his family, they agreed to proceed as normal people do. No one ever suspected it was a shotgun wedding in the Methodist Church. It was actually quite beautiful and sweet, my groom being the perfect gentleman and I the lovely young bride. Consequently enough, and this will be understood later in my chapters, we went to Virginia Beach for our honeymoon.

Of course I was sick as a dog every day and just wanted to get through the morning sickness so I could at least enjoy the beach for the rest of the day. We’d go to a nice breakfast place, you know, eggs, hash browns, toast and meat with pancakes on the side. Oh how I loved those breakfasts. Unfortunately as hard as I’d try, I never could keep one down. In spite of it all, we had a nice trip and now it was back to Kentucky to decide our next move. Steve wanted to get as far away as he could.

I have no idea where I got the ability to scheme, but I have it big time. Being a preacher’s daughter you learn how to wiggle in and out of situations where you know you should not be. It came so naturally for me to map out a plan to move us further and further away from my home, or unbeknownst to me, a map that would take me further than I could have ever imagined. We ended up enrolling Steve into a small Kentucky college a couple of hours away. That put distance between us for then. Next we would be heading to Texas. I had it all figured out.