Chance meeting

Well, not really. My dad played soccer with his club at he end of Golden Gate Park. I don't remember how we met them, but he was a former boxer, as could be well documented with his buff arms, driving s sharp 1958 Chevy.

His name was Hank and her name was Jenny. They had a son who had tunnel vision. They were talking about how to make it as an immigrant. They had just taken on a job in Los Banos. Their responsibility was to maintain a gun club, for the lack of a better word. She would feed them meals. It was for the first time I tasted meatloaf and fresh pomagranite from the tree.

They had puppies (Boston Terriers) and we took one home. God I thought it was ugly, but I was use to pets.

Ironically, my dad stopped. For the first time I was astounded that cotton came from a boll. My dad plucked some for me. I was amazed. I remember bringing it to school.

Girl Scouts

In the beginning of fifth grade there was a flyer for Girl Scouts. But too no avail, there was no such group where I lived. But I could join Campfire Girls. I didn't care one way or the other. I just wanted to belong. None of the students were from my school. Now that I think about it, they all attended private school. So I went to the first meeting. It was on Judah Street. I walked. I really liked the leader and she was interested in me. I told my story. After a few times, I was invited to dinner. They had a Jaguar. We went up and down the hills of San Francisco. It was at night. My parents felt safe because I was with adults. I was suppose to be impressed. I was not. I did like all the special attention I was getting. I never thought that not everybody would be treated that way. I do remember a backyard; which is unusual for S.F., and I remember a see-saw. I remembered liking their son and we would often ride that see-saw. I remember nothing about the girl. I don't even know her name. I did remember watching out the front window and watching the street cars go by. I was fascinated.

I can't remember what else we did, but I remember that ride. So that was part of my extra-curricular activity.

S.F. Giants

My dad religiously followed the San Francisco Giants. Not a sound was to be heard when he played from his portable radio. Alas, my dad got tickets for a double header between my fourth and fifth grade. I was so excited! We all loved baseball. We all loved the San Francisco Giants.

I don't remember why; some things I do forget the details, but, I got a shot that was to be an antibiotic. I just remembered getting a shot in my rump, sort of. The person who administered the shot, hit a muscle. I no longer could walk. Well, that was the excuse my dad needed not to take me. After all, it was a double-header and I probably would not have the patience to go through two games. My mother did not give any protest, as usual. My dad was relieved, and my mom was left with the guilt. So, Saturday I limped to the theater. My mom accompanied me to the theater. She gave me the money and did not attend herself. After all, it had been her life and she could not speak the language. Consequently, I saw many a movie that was inappropriate for my age group. To be truthful, there was no rating system at that time. My dad certainly didn't care. All the neighborhood kids went because it was such a bargain.

The Endless Summer

Joe put a lot of effort in what he did. He introduced me to new arts & crafts to make key chains. I found it fascinating and made them in every color combination. He also announced that we would get to go to the Giants baseball game. Wow. It was for the first time that I was introduced to board games; Monopoly especially fascinated me. winning was my goal. It kept us out of the heat. We played in the recreation room. I learned to play Scrabble. I really liked that. Joe was the constant in our life. We did not want to leave. We were the latch key kids.

Lunch consisted of walking down to Kirkham street, get our bologna sandwich, snowballs, and our RC Cola. This is where we also bought our baseball cards. I had 25 cents a day. I was careful to keep that quarter everyday. I even chewed the bubblegum.

I don't remember on my last post, but the shoe of choice were flip-flop, except we called them by a different name. They were cheap; less than a $1.00. Consequence for someone who had never been in the sun before was to get blisters on my feet. Yes, third degree. My family was apprehensive of the health services of the US. After all, they could be treated at home. I did not complain, but did take to note.

First Semester in Ms. Bowers class

I think the one thing I remembered the most was that Ms. Bower had hairy arms. Hair I had never seen before. But she was nice, so I guess all was forgiven. We received a standard issue pen from the school district. It was green and ribbed to insure we would grasp the pen properly. I don't know where I heard this, I guess a parental conversation, that my name was Sophia Yvonne Van Coevorden. I was so intrigued with the Sophia. Until then, I never knew I had another name. I had always been called either by my middle or nickname thereof.
I remember writing an essay and used my new found first name, Sophia, and used it on my paper.
The next day we get the paper back. My fourth grade teacher said I had to make up my mind; Sophia or Yvonne. She had no idea what an impact that would have on the rest of my life. I was so mesmerized with the name Sophia and the thought that their had been a grandmother out there who I never met was so exciting. I chose Sophia, and it stuck. Wow, something so little could be so monumental. It made me realize today that even the smallest thing could have an impact on any of my students.

Fourth Grade

Ugh, we had Mr. Morris the second semester in fourth grade. We all knew he was an ogre. I certainly did not want that kind of discipline. Mr. Morris did not take long to tell us that his children went to bed at 7:30 pm. We all thought it was horrible. Of course, we never knew their ages. Mr. Morris in my eyes was Mr. Scrooch. He wore glasses, with peppered hair. We could only endure and hope things would be different next year.
And then there was Michael Peroni. Rememberl, I was still learning the language. Michael Peroni was very tall. He flunked a few times. He would probably be place in Special ED. Michel Peroni one day hung around the fence to get the kickball. He taught me the "F" word. I did not know what it meant. It was repeated often. I scratched it in the top of the fence and Michael reassured me that I was spelling it correctly. A new found word.
One day, Mr. Morris asked that of all people I would pick up the dictionaries. I come to Michael's desk to pick it up and sure enough, he wouldn't give it to me. I ask him again with no result. So I decide to use my newly acquired vocabulary word,"F" on him to give the book. Off he goes to Mr. Morris to tell him used the "F" word. Mr. Morris would have nothing of it. I told him I am sorry. He took me by the ear, left the class unattended, and marched me to the office to Ms. Green.
She, too, was alarmed to hear what I had said. I still didn't know. She wrote a letter to my father and what I had said. It was a time that students took their letters honestly to their parents. My father had to explain to my mother what I had said. I'm not sure even he knew what I had said, especially since he did not cuss himself.
Since then, I kept my distance from Mr. Peroni. He disappeared just like he had entered the classroom. I was glad.