It was 1960 and my social life revolved around my church group. My dad said no dating until I turned 16, so I was looking forward to the beach party our recreation leader had planned at New Brighton Beach. We lived way out in the boondocks of the Santa Cruz Mountains, so I always had to find a generous driver to ride with. The youth director told my Dad he’d get me home.
It was a fun beach party. We had a lot of fun in the water, then a bonfire and hot dog BBQ. We played beach volleyball, ate, sang songs, an inspirational talk by someone in the group and then we toasted marshmallows to make so’mores. It was my turn to give a talk, so I talked about littering and I made the analogy to how we throw around words, littering with trash talk, swearing and putting people down. Everybody said it was a good talk. I made it short and relevant.
After the party was over, all the stuff was toted to the cars, there was a lot of activity with about thirty kids coming and going. Eventually I started looking around for my ride and discovered to my dismay it was gone. Of course the pay phone wasn’t working, so I figured I may have to walk to a phone or hitch a ride. I was trying not to panic, and so I began to walk to the park entrance to see if there was still an employee on duty. As I was walking, a hot looking blue Chevy pulled alongside me. I recognized the driver as R.L., a really cute guy I had always had a secret crush on. He had another boy in the car with him.
“You need a ride?”
“Yeah, I guess my ride didn’t take a head count. I’m not sure what to do. I live way out Branciforte near St. Clare’s Retreat.”
“ I don’t mind, I am driving to Scotts Valley anyway, I can take Glen Canyon the back way to town.”
I was quickly reminding myself of every caution I was ever given about riding with boys that I didn’t know well. I knew I need to make a quick decision, so I asked God for his protection and guidance.
R.L. smiled and opened his door for me and told me to scoot in between him and the mystery guy, who quickly put out the cigarette he was smoking. I climbed in. I don’t remember what we talked about but I was courteously and safely escorted home. Not wanting my Dad to know who in fact brought me home, I asked him to let me out at the bottom of our driveway. Good thing the moon was out, because it was a dark long walk up to the house. Only my mom was awake when I walked in. I think I probably told her what happened, but Dad never did find out. I figured he’d never forgive the youth director. After that I always thought of this guy as my protector. I learned later, got married to a really nice girl and they had a kid right away. She was expecting their third in 1969, about the same time I was expecting my second when a huge log from a semi truck in the lumber yard rolled off and killed him instantly.
I always remembered what a sweet boy rescued me that night, but glad I wasn’t the one he later widowed so early in life.
I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had many times in my life when I could actuallly feel the angles around me, some were “human”, some were not:) And I have two kids who are running them ragged! I’ve always thought that Nana was running the show when it came to my kids, because whoever has the job is working overtime and needs to be able to rally the troups and GET THINGS DONE…she’s got them working like a well-oiled-machine for these kids!