Author: Debbolita

My response to this daily writing prompt is both simple and complex. I would rather it be just simple but that’s not how it happened…

In simple form, I have attended one college – Santa Fe Community College, as it was called at the time in the early 70’s. Now, it is “Santa Fe College” encompassing both 2 year and 4 year degrees of study. I received an Associate of Arts degree suitable for transfer to a four year university but, that was not my Plan A.

To speak of ‘my plan’ brings up for me an unfortunate and bizarre piece of my history… my family history – namely, in this instance, my mother. Insert ‘sigh’ here.

I know now, in my adulthood, that the normal or at least preferred course in healthier family dynamics when there is a teenager, is to explore and prepare for application to and acceptance by a future college – preferably one of the student’s choices. Although, I am aware that a good number of teenagers are coerced or downright forced to attend one of their parent’s alma maters – usually the father’s.

My father left my family the summer after my freshman year of high school. One Saturday in early June he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. Suspecting possibly a trip to J. M. Fields or Sears, I left with him in his car. He drove to Sears. I could actually show you where he parked – if that parking lot existed these 50+ years later. When he parked, he made no attempt to get out and we both sat there for a moment. Then, he turned to me and said he actually wanted to talk to me. That is when and where I found out he would be leaving us. He explained how people only have one life… and how it’s up to each of us to make the best decisions we can for our own happiness… and that he would always be there for me. He told me that he wasn’t happy – which I had both sensed and held in my gut since I was a fourth grader. I had felt sorry for him all these years… because of how my mother treated him, treated all of us. He then asked me what I felt about what he had told me, and I answered immediately, “I just want you to be happy.” We hugged.

So, in a matter of a week or so, my dad moved out. Understandably, my mother was furious and treated him horribly about it. He was not allowed to take more than his own clothes. The second weekend he was gone, she angrily tossed a cardboard box towards me and said “Go pack up some towels and things from the linen closet for your father.” She followed me to the closet where she instructed, “Only give him our oldest towels, nothing nice.” She went to the kitchen and began angrily tossing items in a box… of course items that she felt made her intended statement. It was like filling boxes for Goodwill and then gifting them to your father. I know now, that what she really wanted to do though, was to show up unannounced at his little apartment and check out who was parked there, etc. She had me go to his door and (embarrassingly) tell him we had brought him some things.

All this to say, my junior and senior years of high school my father was not in the picture. There was never a visitation at his apartment much less a sleepover or anything. He was just gone. I have no idea if my mother denied visitation or what the situation was. My younger brother and I were stuck at home with our livid mother. Oh, the joy…

I skated through the rest of high school continuing to concentrate my efforts on writing, which I’d been doing for years already. At the same time, I was creating my own form of therapy by writing prose and poetry incessantly, as well as working on an autobiographical book. I had to constantly hide my writings from my snooping mother as they were too personal, and sometimes about her. I started a rival creative writing club at school which published a magazine. And, I made a decision – and created ‘the dream’ along with it, that “I would be a writer”. The dream part was to live in a small cottage on the coast, and I visualized myself sitting on my porch, feet on the railing, ocean breeze in my hair, gazing out at the crashing waves and swooping gulls, just happily writing away. The End, and she lived happily ever after.

My mother, meanwhile was steadfastly implanted in her incensed world. She had never been a parent who talked with me, and certainly didn’t care to listen. My thoughts, feelings, dreams or opinions were of no interest to her. As late in my life as a couple months before my father left home, she angrily yelled one night at the dinner table to all of us – my dad included, to “BE QUIET!!!” because we were all laughing at a funny story my dad had just told. She followed that with a loud declaration and a glare at my brother and I that, “Children are to be seen and not heard!” And, added “We’re at the DINNER TABLE!” We were to shut up, and eat.

My mother was always very closed as a human, to put it nicely… So, needless to say, I can not recall ever having a conversation with my mother about my hopes or dreams or any plans for after high school. We didn’t go through any steps to have me prepared for acceptance into the University of Florida in my hometown, which I assumed naively would just happen. What did I know? Not much. My father was not in the picture and if he had been, that realm would probably have been his forte’ as that was his alma mater. I did take the SAT though just because it was a thing everyone did.

I had two English/Creative Writing instructors in high school who became mentors during these years. Each of them had pulled me aside and told me their thoughts about my ‘talents’, which was encouraging to me – and served to keep my beach cottage dream alive. At the end of my senior year, the two of them held a meeting with me. They collectively told me that they felt I had a chance to make it as a writer but that I should pick a second college major that could foster a job that would keep me from starving along the way. All this time, no one even realized that I had not even applied to UF yet! I guess in my un-guided situation, I thought I’d do that over the summer? I had no clue!

Within two weeks of graduating high school, one Saturday my mother nonchalantly informed me that I’d been accepted to Auburn University. What!?! Seriously, what!?! She then matter of factly told me I would be leaving my Gainesville, Florida home to go live with her aunt and uncle in Auburn, Alabama while I went through college, unless of course, I wanted to join a sorority. My head exploded!

First of all, I never applied to Auburn – or any college yet! It dawned on me years later that she actually forged my college application AND my signature!! Second of all, I personally HATED the state of Alabama for it’s rampant racism and bigotry, and it was on a real mental list of mine along with a handful of other states that I’d decided I would never live in in my life. Thirdly, I wanted to attend UF where my friends were going. Fourthly, my boyfriend was in Gainesville and I was not leaving him. We heatedly touched on these bullet points… Her responses were to chuckle and dismiss my comment about racism and bigotry in Alabama; ignore me wanting to go to college where most of my friends would be going; and to tell me snidely that my boyfriend would be there when I graduated… four years later. I flatly refused. She then hotly told me that if I insisted on staying in Gainesville, she would not pay my tuition to attend UF – that I would have to figure that out by myself, but if I went to Auburn everything would be paid for. What the HELL?

I, with the help of a couple of confidants, soon figured out that a major motive of hers was that she was attempting to break up my two year relationship with my boyfriend – who she had always felt was not suitable. She had point blank said to me before, “Don’t marry for love. Marry for security, like a professional athlete, an attorney, or a doctor.” You can’t make this stuff up. I would not respond to her when she voiced these types of things. She didn’t want to hear my opinions anyway. I just remained silent thinking what a horrible person she was.

So! We heatedly argued this declaration of hers for a couple of weeks. I soon found out that not only was it too late to hope to apply and begin at UF in the Fall, but that there was no way monetarily for me to attend. (She had also forbidden me to ever get a job in high school for fear I would spend money on drugs – not that I would have – but, that was my mother for you.) She said I didn’t need a job because she supplied my food and clothes. End of subject.

I began researching the local community college as a Plan B. After telling her I’d decided to go there, she informed me that the only way she would pay my tuition was if I continued living in her home. If I moved out, she would not pay. As much as I dreaded the idea of two more years living with her, I felt I had no choice so I agreed, and registered for my first semester.

In September, after a few weeks of classes however, she and I got into a big fight about who knows what, and I had had it. I called my friend Karen, whose mother had recently taken a job out of town and left her and her grandparents in the house in Gainesville. Karen had moved into her mother’s old bedroom and her old room was vacant. I asked her if there was any way I could rent that bedroom if I got a job. She called her mother and in a matter of a few minutes, the room was mine for $60/month!! I was ecstatic! I went and told my mother that I was moving to Karen’s house. She immediately told me no, I was not, but my mind was made up. I told her Karen would be coming over later and we were going to move my things out. She told me “Absolutely not! I’m having a dinner party today and we can talk about this tomorrow.” Instead, I went in my room and began packing. Karen arrived shortly after her guests had been seated in the dining room which happened to be in full view of the foyer inside the front door. So, in full view of my mother’s party guests, we made repeated trips in and out the front door carrying armfuls of clothes, personal possessions, and a floor lamp – all with smiles on our faces. Lol. My mother acted like nothing was going on. We drove away in Karen’s 1970 blue Plymouth Duster.

In the following days, I began applying for jobs so I could afford my rent, some food, and save up for my next semester’s tuition. I was hired by Burger King which was walking distance from Karen’s house and came with the bonus of a free meal each shift you worked. At first, my boyfriend gave me rides to and from classes and work, but eventually I saved $200 and bought my first VW Bug from a friend. I was set.

I will stop here with my answer to this daily writing prompt as it has grown rather long! But, my final answer is… I attended one college – Santa Fe Community College.