Blog Blog Blog Blog.....I keep putting off posting here and poof! Almost half a year goes by! I am now going to copy and paste a sample unedited chapter from my next book.  (That I have been working on for over four years!) 


Here is the Intro Chapter One!...

                                                               1.

                                             Funky Town

                                                El Monte

                     “Gotta move on…gotta move on…gotta move on…”

     My name is Benita Morgan. I lived and grew up in El Monte, California, a city nestled between the San Gabriel River and Rio Hondo River, a seven-mile stretch of fertile San Gabriel River land a dozen miles east of Los Angeles.

     My Mom, Josefina Gonzalez-Morgan came from Mexico. She met Lee Morgan at a Fiesta in a small town not far from  Juarez. She did not know any English, My dad knew very little Spanish, although he took it in school. .

    My daddy grew up in Burlington, Colorado, a small town in the east plains of Colorado. He was drafted into the Army in WW2 after he had finished College for Civil Engineering.

    He was in El Paso working a surveying job for the federal Government when he went into Juarez Mexico looking for a wife.

    Lee and Josefina  were married at a courthouse in Mexico and lived there for a while. They lived in many places before settling down in this busy El Monte town around 1956.

    This book tells my story from 1979 to 1993. By the end of 1979, my two sisters had by now, moved out on their own. My oldest sister Tracy had her own Mobile Home in Chino and worked at Alpha Beta and then Zodys department store.

    My other sister Elva got married in 1978 and already had her hands full with two adorable and very hyperactive boys, Brant and Kent. Both sisters seemed to be very happy with their lives.

    Since I turned 19, I could do pretty much what I wanted as long as I did some of the things my Dad expected of me, like, attending College full time and paying him back for my car insurance. Small things really, but at that time I didn’t think so.

    I had attended Rio Hondo College since the fall of 1978. I was still not sure what I wanted to do with my life and a career. I thought about becoming a Forest Ranger since I really love the outdoors, hiking and backpacking whenever I could, but my sister Tracy, who took Forestry at Mt. SAC College in Pomona said that she had a hard time with the Chemistry requirement and she ended up changing her major to Interior Design. She said it was too much work.

    Then I thought about becoming a Veterinary Assistant but my other sister Elva said that I would have to dig through dog and cat poop looking for worms and diseases and stuff. The way she said it grossed me out so I gave up that idea. I hated the idea of working in an office. That summer job Elva got me in 1976, with a bunch of other teens, was a nightmare from the start. I nearly froze to death in huge rooms full of file cabinets, working for a large Insurance Company pulling out files with certain numbering on them. They didn’t bother explaining why they wanted us to pull the files. If some asked, they were told it was none of our business, but they just wanted us to do as told without question, and fast!

     My passion was singing but I had no idea how to break into a career in performing. I decided to major in Theater Arts. The teachers in all my Theater Arts acting classes did their best to warn us how hard it would be to make it in Hollywood or Broadway.  I walked about on the Rio Hondo College campus daily with a feeling of hopelessness and doom. I felt as if everyone wanted to discourage me in what I wanted to do. I took all the General Education requirements and had way too much fun with the electives they offered, Tennis, Tap Dance, Backpacking, Art, Television Production, Film Making, and  to the jest of some student jokers, Underwater Basket Weaving 101…

     I was determined to find the right career, something I would be passionate about, and I was also set on finding the right man to marry, someone who would let me be just silly ol’ me. Someone to laugh with, go backpacking with, buy a house with, have my two kids with.

    I dreamed of that family home, a house on a hill, with fruit trees all around and dogs in the backyard. I dreamed of a handsome husband who worked hard, made enough money to live comfortably; an outdoors man who loved camping and fishing with the family at the beach and in the mountains.

    I fantasized about singing all my favorite Disco hits in Los Angeles, Hollywood and maybe even Las Vegas Casinos. I wanted to someday take my kids to Hawaii or on a Cruise or maybe back to the Grand Canyon where I had my first dreams of traveling the wonders of the world.

     Everyone has dreams. Our goal in life is to fulfill as many of those dreams as possible, and to help others we love and care about fulfill their dreams.

     I was a twenty year old girl, with so little experience in life or anything, learning lessons the hard way when expecting things to come the easy way. 

                                           4

                              Ladies Night

             The Lie Detector Test and The Party

               "If you hear any noise, it ain't the boys.."

     It was a slightly warmer December than usual in 1979. I had a part time job for the Christmas shopping season at a jewelry store in the Puente Hills Mall. They never did interview me, because I was only being hired as a gift-wrapping clerk for minimum wage. But since I would be handling expensive jewelry, and gold was at an all-time high in the market, they sent me to the Police department for background checks and a lie detector test.

      Before I went, I had to fill out and sign some more papers at the store, and a lady clerk in her mid twenties that was working there pulled me aside for a little word of advice. “When you take the lie detector test…well….make sure you …um….when they ask you if you smoke marijuana….tell them yes!” I look at her with shock in my eyes and she looked at me knowingly and continued, “They…automatically assume that every teenager now days, smokes marijuana….if you say no, they will think it’s a lie and use that to gauge the rest of the test!” I started to ask, “But…” and she cut in, “Even if you NEVER have tried marijuana, you have to tell them you DID - so they will KNOW… you are being honest!”

     I left the mall and headed to the Police Station. I was more than confused about the lie detector test. Do I lie so they think I am honest? Do I tell the truth and make them think I’m a liar? Should I just forget about this job and find something else? I did not know what I should tell them. The last time I could even remember smelling marijuana was during the summer in 1978 when I was driving to a rehearsal and the guy I was giving a ride with me to the Park Plaza Playhouse, lit up a joint! Should I tell the police that story?.. Will I go to jail once they find out?... Will they take my Driver license away?... Does the clerk at the jewelry store want me to fail the test for her own job security…does she smoke?....but she seemed sincere at the time….help me Jesus!…You forgave me…but will they?

    I was so stressed out about the lie detector test that I walked into another office that was not even the Police Station. I finally found the place and took the test, and to this day, I don’t remember what my answers were to any of the questions except for one question that will never ever leave my memory. They asked me about half way through the testing… “How long has it been since you last smoked marijuana?” I was expecting a ‘yes or no’ type question and found myself momentarily surprised by the matter of fact-ness of the question. You would have thought they were just commenting about the mild weather conditions. I remembered the rehearsal driving episode from 1978 and replied honestly, “About a year.”

    I worked at this Jewelry store and learned much about dealing with all sorts of human characters. Bosses that knew it all. Male employees and their prejudices, jealous female co-workers and pretend customers who are actually skilled experienced thieves.

    There was something about most of the Jewelry Store managers I worked with. They did not want to be Jewelry Store managers. It just rather happened to them somehow unknowingly by fate. They woke up one day and realized they were suit and tie Jewelry store managers. (One of them actually told me this) They actually aspired to become rich business owners, politicians, stock exchange experts, geologists  and one manager after he got to know me better, confided in me that he was sure he was destined to become a famous singer, like Elvis, but better. I drove home laughing my head off until I thought of the singer. I was too much like him and it scared me. If I pursued a singing career, would I find myself ten years from now, working in a retail store as a salesperson or heaven forbid, in Management?

     I decided I was going to make my New Years resolution for 1980 in advance. I would pursue my dreams that I wanted to pursue, and to find the right man to help me forget. I needed to forget about my ex-boyfriends, Mickey and Carlos. I decided I had to do everything that Mickey didn’t like me doing. Every night I had nightmares about all the cruel head-trip games Mickey had pulled on me. There was a certain satisfaction in doing what I needed to do instead of  what someone else expected me to do.

     My job at Hatfield Jewelers in the Puente Hills Mall was not really going that well at first, but I loved just... being at the Mall. Employees of the Puente Hills Mall were required to park  ‘waaaay’ out in the furthest parking spaces, saving the closer spots for the actual shoppers. I made a friend at the Jewelry store that I worked with, her name was Phyllis. She was very excitable and opinionated but loved to laugh at everything.  We were both total Disco fanatics. We thought it unfair that the older, balding, slightly plump store managers always broke rules. One in particular tended to park right up close, half the time, complaining about back pain and other ailments.

      Every day he came in to the store, hung his keys in the back break area where we all hung our purses, and parked his self in the diamond ring sales area. I was normally posted inside a circular glass watch display unit in the direct center of sales floor, selling expensive watches. I knew next to nothing about the difference between Rolex and Timex watches, but I somehow attracted a steady flow of men, which was the sole reason for management placing me there.

     Phyllis was usually in the office typing statements, filing, and gossiping about anything she could think of. The other girl in the office, Peggy, was a bit arrogant with me but pretended politeness whenever the manager was around. When the manager was not there, I ceased to exist in her little corner of the office.

    One day Phyllis and I were discussing the parking problem intently. We were required to wear nice dresses and shoes with heels to work and the hike on the asphalt was wearing down our nice shoes. We decided that the thing to do was to wear slippers in the parking lot and change into our nice shoes in the store. Then the subject of the rule twisting and lazy manager came up between us and Phyllis had the most scandalous idea.

    During her lunch break she planned to take the Managers keys, hanging with our purses and go out to his El Camino car and move it a bit farther out. When her break came she dashed out as fast as she could, hurrying to get to his car and move it further out.

    When we locked up the store at 9pm, we all walked out to the parking lot together. He made no comment as he peered around the near empty front lot and discovered his car a little further out. Still, Phyllis and I were parked much further out and made a big show of limping in pain as we proceeded further out to our cars. There were also many other Mall employees parked back there, walking wearily to their cars.

    The next day Phyllis borrowed his keys and did it again, this time parking his El Camino way out where we were parked. It just so happened, that day, he had a long lunch meeting with other managers and they had enjoyed cocktails at one of the mall restaurants they frequented. His moods were unpredictable when he drank, sometimes jolly, sometimes dark and moody.

    He was talking and walking with the other girl, Peggy, and Phyllis and I were taking deep long breaths, trying hard not to giggle and give ourselves away. When he looked around scratching his head confused, baffled, I had to stifle a, what would have been an incriminating laugh, when I saw the look on his face. His chubby cheeks were flushed a bright red, his eyes popping out as he yelled out, “My cars been stolen! Somebody call the police!”

    Phyllis had a slightly panicked look to her as she continued walking a little too briskly toward her car. Peggy was looking around the lot as she said, “Are you sure you parked up here, I thought… we were all supposed to park out there…” She then pointed to the employee parking area further away, where most of thel mall employees were headed.

    “I…I…I don’t remember….I’m sure I parked here!” he half yelled and mumbled at the same time. Phyllis was halfway out to the employee area when she pointed and yelled, “Hey! Isn’t that your El Camino, over there?”

    The Manager shook his head, grumbling to himself  as he recognized sight of a car that might be his. Then Peggy, the stuck up queen of the office, caught up to me, leaving the confused man behind and said, “What a drunk idiot! …He can’t even remember where he parked his stupid old car!” Her comment made me giggle and she looked at me up and down as if assessing me and asked, “Hey, I’m going to a frat party this Friday night…wanna come?”

    “Really?...Where is the party?”

    “It’s at the frat house of my friend at Cal State Fullerton…lots of cute guys will be there…..you will definitely have fun…”

    “Wow! I would really love to go with you!”

    “Okay, come to my house and I’ll drive us in my new car.”

    Peggy had just acquired a new 1979 Chevy Camaro, a gift from her, ‘well-to-do’ parents. She was a student at Cal State Fullerton and worked at the Jewelry Store part-time for just a little extra spending cash. I had been to her house in Diamond Bar once, dropping her off after work when her other used car had broken down. Her bedroom was a spacious upstairs loft with a partial kitchen and deck. She had a pet parakeet that she let fly loose in her room. When she walked into her room, the little blue bird would fly to her, landing on her head. I thought her behavior a little more than strange. She was a completely, totally spoiled brat kid. She picked her friends and then made trouble for them later.     

     I should have known better then to accept her prompt invitation to a college frat party. Phyllis had warned me about her the first day at work. Peggy spelled trouble by the way her eyebrows raised and her smile, seeming a bit too mischievous. Nevertheless, I had not been to a real college frat party before. What harm would trying it just once be?

     The chubby manager found his car and eyed Peggy and I suspiciously, as he drove off. After a brief conversation with Peggy discussing what she thought I should wear, Peggy sped off in her new Camaro. Then Phyllis hopped out of her parked car and said, “Do you think he suspects something?”

    “I think he will suspect something if you ever do this again…Phyllis…We could get fired over this!”

    “Well, for minimum wage, getting fired just means getting another minimum wage job!...Lets go to Janels Bar  for a Pina Colada!” Phyllis said.  

     “I’m not 21 yet…remember?” I said.

     “No problem…no ID required  at Janels Night Club tonight!  Hey… I have a friend that makes fake ID’s. I’ll tell him to make you one tomorrow and you and I can hit the Red Onion Disco in West Covina next week!”

     “Oh no! That could get me in trouble! I can’t do that!”  Phyllis looked at me like I was crazy and replied laughingly, “Well it will get you in…if you feel so guilty then just don’t drink anything but sodas!”

      “Oh my gosh! I really want to see that Disco, and I heard Red Onion has the cutest guys!” I said, a little too enthusiastically, but Phyllis didn’t seem to notice as she continued blabbing.

     “There’s another Club called the Gas House in Covina. My friend is a waitress there…once you have  your  ID, she’ll get us in for free and get us a free Pina Colada!”

     “Well I guess…I don’t mind that at all…I’m tired of driving to Hollywood to Disco, I want to see the night life around here!” I said.

     With my radio blasting KIIS FM Disco music, I followed Phyllis to Janels Night Club in La Puente.

     Phyllis was right, I had no trouble getting in with her. She seemed to know everyone there, right down to the bouncer and bartender! It was a small Disco but the lighting and music sounded pretty good. We ordered our Pina Coladas and sat there watching the dancing. After a few songs, Phyllis got up and went to request a song with the DJ and I sat there alone. I was beginning to think I should just go home, the crowd was not my type, most of the people could not dance that well. They were Disco wanabees dressing in polyester and platform shoes, but that ‘Hollywood’ type excitement was just not there. I started to grab my purse when the waitress walked up with another Pina Colada. “This is from the gentleman at the bar.”

     I turned to look at the guys sitting at the bar and the one guy looking my way just had to be the goofiest looking oriental guy I had ever seen. Then I thought perhaps he was some sort of Latin, with his dark skin. It was dark in there but you could not mistake the oriental eyes.  When he got up to approach my table I noticed that he was dressed rather nicely, no polyester, just… nice or… how did my friend Pablo call it…GQ.

    I nervously looked around for Phyllis but she was shaking her booty happily on the dance floor to her requested song, ‘Ladies Night’. The man came up and sat on Phyllis’s chair next to mine. “So, you know Phyllis?” I thought about saying ‘who doesn’t know Phyllis’ but just nodded my head in a yes manner. He smiled and his round face suddenly became humorously rounder, making me smile when I rather would have laughed aloud.  “My name is Benita!” I said, a little louder than I perhaps should have by the way he jumped. “My name is Johnny,” He said, barely audible above the Disco sounds. “Nice to meet you.” I said. Didn’t this kind of conversation mean you were generally bored with the moment? Next thing you know, he’ll say ‘ Nice weather we’re having?’ Please Phyllis get me out of here.

     He stood up and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

     “Sure…okay…” So I got up to join the crowd on the dance floor. The DJ was fading out ‘Ladies Night’ into ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’ and I groaned my disappointment working my way dancing, toward the DJ booth. When I got close enough I yelled over to the DJ “Can you play ‘Instant Replay’?”

He looked at me with a “What?”

     “INSTANT REPLAY!” I repeated as loud as I could, noticing  that the effects of the Pina Coladas were kicking in.  “Sorry lady, I only play each song once!”

I shook my head and just…. Danced. After a few minutes the DJ faded out the Rod Stewart song into a Village People hit, ‘In The Navy!’ The crowd cheered and went nuts and I just wanted to scream and get the heck out of there! This crowd was way behind with the Disco hits- at the mercy of the Disc Jockeys limited record collection. After dancing and ignoring Johnny, I downed the last sour taste of my Pina Colada and grabbed my purse to leave. Johnny followed me outside, trailing me to my car and asked, “Will I see you again here…maybe Saturday night?”

    “Oh sure…I can’t wait t come back here!”  I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t be back.

    “Okay I’ll see you then!” I noticed his peculiar accent just then…“Yeah sure… Hey by the way... What nationality are you?”

    “I’m Pilipino” Did he say ‘Pillow’? How many Pina Coladas did I drink?

    “You’re what?”  I didn’t quite hear him right.

    “I am Filipino!”

    “Ohhh…I see” He was starting to look cuter…  “um…where  is Filipino?” Where was my head?

    Blinking his eyes in surprise he said, “It dis a similar to da Polynesian  or Hawaiians, but we have de Spanish too.”

I had heard my dad talking about the Philippines in World War Two but I still did not know much about the people, and geography. I decided to look up the Philippines in my dads World book Encyclopedia when I got home.

    The next morning at breakfast, I asked my dad what the people were like in the Philippines when he was there. Now normally, if I asked my dad a question about anything, he would go on for an hour on the subject or he would run over and pull out the Encyclopedia or fetch one of his National Geographic Magazines on the subject. For some unknown reason to me, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, they ate rice, pork and fish and sometimes dogs and the men were crazy when it came to gambling and would gamble all their money away and then the chickens and sometimes even gamble their wife away.” At the mention of wives my mom put that scowl on her face and started in on it. “Lee have his girlfriends there…sus novias… toda via esperando por el…ha ha!” My dad smiled and said “Magandan gabi!” and got up and left the room. I had no idea what he just said.

    I drove to work with a headache and couldn’t remember the Filipino guys name, but the words ‘Magandan gabi’ kept repeating itself in my head. Phyllis seemed upset with me for leaving the Disco so soon. It seemed she was cranky with everyone feeling a little ‘under the weather’ all day at  work. I never dreamed that I would spend the next several months dating only Filipino guys. They liked going out Disco Dancing and hanging out with each other in groups.

    Friday night came and I went with Peggy to the Cal State Fullerton College Party! The large house was packed with College students. Some of the guys were very handsome. Out in the back yard there were three kegs of beer in trash cans full of ice. In the living room area there was a bar with mixed cocktails and snacks. Peggy downed a plastic cup of beer in three seconds flat, re-filled the cup and started dancing with some guy in the patio area where the DJ was set up and I went inside to take advantage of the snacks. The guy at the bar encouraged me to take a tray of ‘Seven-Layer’ dip to a table at the other end of the room, as if, I would be doing him a favor. I sat the tray down on the table and after munching out on some of it, I went back to the backyard dancing and Disco music scene.

     To my dismay, Peggy was gone. So was her dance partner. I looked in the den, the kitchen and in a few of the other rooms; but no Peggy. Shrugging my shoulders in defeat, I grabbed two plastic cups full of beer, pretending like I was getting one of them for someone else, and went back into the living room, sitting at the table alone, where the seven layer dip lay, half finished already. After downing one of the cups of beer enjoying the Disco music creeping in from the backyard, I thought about going out to check and see if her car was still parked outside. If it was gone then I would have to call a cab or hitch a ride with someone else.

     I convinced myself to calmly stay put as I picked up that second beer. A longhaired, sunburned surfer looking guy was suddenly seated in the chair next to me. He looked unusually out of place compared to the cleaner cut-shorter haired College students in ironed collard shirts and slacks.

    “Hey, howsit!” He mumbled as he scooped a chip full of dip into his mouth.

    “Hi.” It was all I could mumble absently as I worried about where Peggy was.

He started talking about surfing and Huntington Beach, which immediately grabbed my attention as surfing was one of my recent past hobbies; my old boyfriend Mickey and I had practically lived at the beach the last two summers. Before I knew it, we had sat there eating dip and talking about surfing for over an hour and not once did the guy try a line on me or even ask me what my name was. I kept an eye out for Peggy, hoping she would somehow find me. The surfer dude got me two more beers and he kept talking about surfing, his conversation migrating from Huntington Beach to San Clemente, San Onofre and on down south to San Diego.

    The beers had soaked in right along with the Seven-layer dip. I was feeling relaxed and sat there daydreaming about Mickey when I became startled by a screeching girl who turned out to be Peggy.

    “What are you doing?” She blinked focusing on me like a Mom scolding her 5 year old. She displayed a harsh frown towards the Surfer guy who had just started talking about taking me to Baja to surf, but was cut short by Peggy’s evil look. She then grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go!”

    A few wrong turns in her Camaro and back around finally brought us to the freeway. I sat in her car scared stiff unable to get a word in edgewise with her apparent inability to stop talking and scolding and fussing and crying and “Oh My God what were you thinking talking to that BUM who crashed a party he wasn’t invited to….”  And “You drank too much, how are you going to get home?...You Can’t drive!” I think she was feeling the effects of the beer more than I but I kept my mouth shut.

     She missed the exit to her house, where my car was parked and abruptly announced that I needed food and a soda, at least that was her excuse missing the exit there.  She drove through a fast food place called Naugles, famous for their Egg Burritos. She ordered burritos for us both and we sat in the parking lot eating them. I finally had the chance to ask her, while she chewed on her burrito, “So where did you disappear to?” Her face turned a beet reddish color and then she became indignant and extremely angry in her sputtering burrito reply, “You embarrassed me at the party, all my friends thought you and that surfer guy were party crashers together! Then I had to admit to them that I brought you with me to the party. I’m never taking you to a party ever again!” I shook my head and realized that I was now in the company of public enemy number one and their would be trouble at work because of this weird misunderstanding. I couldn’t wait to get out of this car and away from her spoiled little attitude. I didn’t even want to argue back. She was never a real friend and never would be.

    The next afternoon when I showed up at the Jewelry store, Peggy had worked the early shift and I walked in to the store hearing her loud complaints, “She embarrassed me, she’s an alcoholic…out of control…”

     Phyllis looked up from her desk and saw me and shook her head mouthing, “I told you so!” I would have loved to explain to everyone that I was deserted at a party where I knew no one, and some surfer guy sat there and talked about surfing all night while I ate chips and dips. But right about then one of the managers decided it was time to stop gossiping about personal failures and get to work helping customers. Peggy was getting off work early, claiming to feel sick to her stomach from a burrito she ate. Phyllis looked at me knowingly. After she left one of the salesmen came over to me and said, “You, my dear, are not the first victim of Peggy’s escapades….we all tend to avoid her now.”

    I could hear Phyllis laughing and I just smiled and went to work. I sold a Rolex watch that day. Too bad I was just a part time clerk who wasn’t eligible for commission. 

                                                     End of Chapter 4 

Aaaahhhh.... Soooo.....now you know  little about my 70's past. Now today I just got back from camping in Big Bear. Actually we camped at Green Valley Lake and drove in to Big Bear City for fun. We went to the Zoo. It's a refuge for rescued wildlife and a few rescued exotic pets as well. I saw the largest Bear I had ever seen! But I loved the Wolves the most. I wish they had larger enclosures for the Wolves. There were 6 or 7 of them runnng in circles around the enclosure they lived in.