After graduation from high school I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to go, so enrolled in the first year of junior college, still concentrating mostly on a business course. Walter started flying lessons, which was one of the choices in junior college. He earned flying time by ferrying planes each morning and evening from one airport, on the south side of town , to another north of town. I was his first passenger after he received his pilot's license, and we made regular hops, mostly on Sundays, using up flying time that he'd earned during the week. We'd fly down to the beach, always careful to have plenty of altitude so when the motor would periodically quit we could dive to get it to start again! Usually, when Walter would be on his evening flying run he'd dive at our house as he passed over. Since our family was at the dinner table about that time, my father would glare at the ceiling when that awful noise would be decending, then say to me, "You don't go up in the air with that crazy nut, do you?" I recal those words very well as it was one of the few times I failed to tell the truth to my father. I'm pretty sure he knew the truth, but felt it was his duty to let me know he didn't think it was such a great idea.
After one year of junior college, I decided it would be kind of exciting to go away to college, so started looking around for something more interesting and exciting than business courses. I don't know how I heard bout Woodbury College, in Los Angeles, but it grabbed my interest, especially the interior decorating course which was offered there. Woodbury was a professional school, that one could earn a diploma in the period of two years, as it was a year-round session of classes with no vacations, sports program, or anything else which might prolong the quest. Dad finally said "yes" to my proposal, especially when we located THE EVANGELINE RESIDENCE FOR WOMEN, located just a block from Woodbury College for me to stay in. It was a four story brick building run by the Salvation Army. The first floor was occupied by the lobby and large dining room. No males were allowed on the upper floors where two girls, or women, were assigned to each room. My first roomate was a girl named Robertellen Corbin, from Oklahoma, who was also attending Woodbury. She was only there for a couple of months as her boyfriend showed up and persuaded her to return home. Then, I returned from home, after spending the weekend, one Sunday Evening and my new roommate had moved into our room. She was also from Oklahoma and her name was Dorothy Jo Cathey, enrolled as a business major at Woodbury. Little did she, or I, know what a great influence on each other's lives we'd have, especially on hers, as I will explain later.
Just prior to Dorothy Jo becoming my roommate, I had pledged to Sigma Iota Chi Sorority. I'd been invited to parties from all three of the sororitys, but when the invitations arrived, I chose Sigma Iota Chi, because I liked the girls in it best. I'd been at Woodbury just a short while when Jack decided to go there, and enrolled as a business major. That gave D.J. and I the brilliant idea of moving into an apartment, since I knew my parents would never consent to that, unless Jack was with us. There was a hotel right by the college, which also had apartments to rent, so we chose one in that. The rent was $60 a month, completely furnished and all utilities paid, and besides being quite nice it was very convenient to school. I don't think that arrangement lasted much longer than a month, since we soon discovered that the buying of food and preparation of meals took up more time than we thought it would. Jack moved into his fraternity house, and D.J. and I moved into my sorority house just a few doors away. It took a little persuation to get D.J. in as she was a member of another sorority, but since I wouldn't move in unless she came too, it was o.k.'d finally. Jack and I drove home to Pomona each Friday, after school, to spend the weekend, and sometimes D.J. came home with us. Walter would round up one of his flying friends to take D.J. up in the plane, and we'd get in another, and off we'd go into "the wild blue yonder". D.J. was supposed to be engaged to a boy back in Oklahoma; even had the engagement ring which she kept in the dresser drawer, but they'd agreed to date others while they were seperated by so many miles. One day one of my friends, at school, was notified that her father was very ill and she must go home immediately, so I helped her pack up her things. That evening she showed up at the house, and had me come downstairs to meet two young men from her hometown in Oklahoma, who were living in Long Beach now. They asked me to go with them to the Ice Capades, then we'd take Betty to the bus station afterwards as she had a ticket for midnight. We had a really nice time and, I think, managed to cheer Betty up a little as she was not only saddened about the news of her father, but hated to be leaving school, probably for good.
Their names were Doug and Charles. When they took me back to the sorority house Doug asked me for a date the folowing Monday night, as that was the only night they had off from work. I started to explain that I was going steady and Betty must have neglected to mention that fact. He replied, "Oh, you mean the love life in the old hometown? Well, Squirrel Top (my sorority nickname), I'm not asking for love, just a date. You see, we're finding it difficult to meet nice girls here in California and maybe through you, living here in a sorority house, maybe we can meet some. Now, will you please go with me Monday, and can you get a date for Charles?" Well, to tell the truth I was so impressed with that approach, plus they were such nice fellows with those delightful southern accents, not to mention southern charm, I readily agreed. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what the results would be, when I approached some of the unattached girls in the house, about going on a blind date on a Monday night. They all turned me down, saying they had to study, or rest up from a grueling weekend, or whatever. Finally, I turned to Dorothy jo with my plea, as Monday was rapidly approaching and I still didn't have a date for Charles, and had no way of contacting him about my bad luck. At first, Dorothy jo flatly refused. She had left Oklahoma after a very traumatic experience there; something about seeing a terrible accident with a bus in which many people had been killed, and she didn't want to meet anyone from there as it might bring back those memories, plus going on a Monday night date was just plain crazy. Finally, when she saw how upset I was getting, she agreed to go "Just this once" and I shouldn't get myself into such a situation ever again!
Well, this rambling dissertation has to come to a close, so I'll just say, we went out, and when we returned home and I asked her how she liked Charles she replied, "He's the nicest, most refined young man I've ever met, and he's the one I'm going to marry. My engagement ring will be in the mail tomorrow back where it came from!" Sometime later they were married, and still are. Have two sons, a daughter, and several grandchildren.
I might as well add that I continued to see Doug for quite some time, since Dorothy Jo and Charles were dating, and, yes, Walter eventually found out about my "infidelity" and was quite unhappy about it. However, Doug joined the airforce so faded out of the picture.

(Insert, or afterthought)

Sometime, either in my junior or senior year in high school, I joined a civilian rescue team. During the mid "30's" we had quite a serious flood in our area, and the road gong up to the nearby mountains was washed out, making it impossible for the people living up there to get out, or even to get any food or supplies. So, someone had the bright idea of training a rescue team on horseback for any such future emergencys, and WOW, that sounded really great to me. Never mind that I had no idea what such a project entailed, and hardly one end of a horse from the other! There were approximately 15 young people who responded to the request for volunteers, so we proceeded to meet once a week at a rental stable outside of town with a drill instructor. One of the things we had to learn was how to lift an unconcious person up on our horse. That was a real dilly. I never conquered my fear of horses and, I suppose the fact they were rental horses which had a tendency to want to stay in the stables munching hay, rather than participate in the foolish shenanigans we were putting them through. After getting them saddled, enroute to the arena, they required all kinds of friendly persuasion to get them to move, then after drilling for an hour we turned them towards the stable and they took off at full gallup, making it a necessity to hang on for dear life.
One night, I returned home late after our training session and my parents weren't home to help take off the English boots we had to wear. Jack had gone to bed, and as was his custom, had his bedroom door locked. I requested his aid, then pleaded, then threatened dire retaliations, to no avail. As a result, I went to bed with boots and jodpurs on, smelling mighty horsey and dreaming up terrible deeds to pay Jack back. I imagine the novelty and romantic notions of actually participating in a rescue mission finally wore thin, or I grew tired of trying to lift supposedly nconcious persons up on the horse, since I never received a completion diploma. Anyway, the project slowly fizzled as people came to realize it was an impractical idea.