Chapter 2

We lived on a fairly steep hill. We could see across the bay to San Francisco, about 15 miles away from our living room windows. Above us were two homes owned by the same family, the Johnsons. One was a 1920's Prairie style 3 bedroom 2 story house on a large leveled lot. The other house was a 1950's ranch with 4 bedrooms built on the top of the hill. While I was a junior in high school, the older house became vacant when the grandparents both passed away. The Johnson's youngest daughter, Julia, ended up with it. She had been an 'oophs baby', her parents were almost as old as my grandmother. I was 17 at the time; she was just finishing college, so she didn't really figure into my world. Actually none of the Johnsons did. I liked them but they were friends with my parents.

Julia wanted to remodel the house, and my dad's expertise was requested. I went up with him and he had me check it out.

I caught a lot but dad got more. Water is a major enemy for homes and this one had hidden damage everywhere. Dad gave Julia an inspection tour. "See that paint flaking off?" "Notice the bounce in the floor by the tub?" "Look at the color of the shingles." "Hold a level up to that foundation". "This is lathe and plaster, push on the walls, what do you feel?"

By the time he was done, Julia knew she had a major project on her hands. She was graduating from Stanford and just landed a job teaching at our local high school. She had an inheritance and soon her own income as well. She could live next door and do a lot of the work, but she needed help. So, my parents arranged for me to work for her.

Julia was in good shape. Years later they would say that she had a hard body. But even though we were the same height (5'8"), I was quite a bit stronger. Being male really helped.

So, during that late spring and my last summer of high school, I worked with Julia. Together we stripped out most of the interior then worked on the exterior. Lathe and plaster is a mess to remove. The existing 2x4s really were 2 inches by 4. That made replacing pieces an issue, a lot of it wasn't to code. The wiring was all knob and tube and all had to come out.

We had to arrange supports for two load bearing walls while we (I) dug a new foundation then poured the cement. I hate cement work. We also worked on an addition/conversion of the back porch into interior space for a den. Julia had a stone mason open a second fireplace in the den using the same chimney from the living room.

Summer came and I started working more hours for Julia. Summer in the East Bay could get hot, and Julia looked great in shorts and light shirts, she would look great in anything. But, she wasn't my fantasy girl. That girl lived just over the hill.

Andrea was classical Italian with a beautiful, straight Roman nose. Her large black eyes were almond shaped. It was easy to get lost in them. She had luscious long wavy black hair that provided a wonderful frame for her oval shaped face ... That beautiful head topped a typically tight 17 year old figure. Julia was taller with a much better figure, but I only had eyes for Andrea.

Andrea's older brother, Anthony was my best friend. He was entering college in the fall. They also had a younger sister, Anna. Everyone referred to them as 'The Three As' or the 'As'.

My sisters and I hung out together with them since they had moved in five years before. My routine that summer was swimming practice, working for Julia, and spending as much time as I could with the 'As'. I'd get home for dinner then return to work for a while. I would read until to about 5:00 am, and sleep for an hour or two.

We had a lot of family outings, usually to visit museums and historical sites. We drove down to LA for a few days visiting the Getty Museum and the Huntington Library. We also spent 10 days backpacking above the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir up to Tuolumne Meadows. We always invited the 'As' to join us on our jaunts but they never did. Still, life was great.

Working for Julia was fun in many ways. She had a subtle sense of humor that took me a while to understand. She loved reading as well - she was an English teacher! Often when we were pounding nails we would discuss our current reading. At first, she handled it like a teacher – student exercise. It didn't bother me because it helped pass the time.

That changed to a more level interaction one afternoon. Julia asked me to come over to the ranch house and help her move some things for her mom. In their den was a framed poster of a rock climber scaling a huge vertical granite face taken from a dramatic angle, almost certainly from a helicopter. The picture was striking. A block of text in the corner quoted Robert Service:

There's a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't stay still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin,

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,

And they climb the mountain's crest;

Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don't know how to rest.

Anyway, I looked at it then snickered. Julia caught me, saying, "What's wrong with that poster?"

"Nothing. It's nice. But you won't get me doing that."

Julia was not deterred. She said, "No, don't change the topic. I saw you. What's wrong with it?"

"The quote is out of context. Robert Service didn't mean what this says."

"What? Are you sure? I looked it up when I got it, that's quoted correctly."

"OK, but did you read the rest of it?" I then quoted:

If they just went straight they might go far;

They are strong and brave and true;

But they're always tired of the things that are,

And they want the strange and new.

They say: "Could I find my proper groove,

What a deep mark I would make!"

So they chop and change, and each fresh move

Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs

With a brilliant, fitful pace,

It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones

Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,

Forgets that his prime is past,

Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,