The summer of 1965 found me infatuated with an olive-tinted girl from New York City. Nanette Schiavo came into my life and from the very first began to touch me in places never before touched. She had such a quiet aura about her, quiet yet commanding. At least it was to me. I felt like a little boy who found that he liked girls, but didn't know what to say to them yet. That confused me right off, because I was, if anything, not bashful.
However, as things such as this usually do I found my voice and she reciprocated, giving me hope for the future, because the setting wasn't conducive to much more than a few smiles and words. We were in Cecil's apartment in Los Angeles, where he and his girlfriend Casey liked to entertain guests. It was the sixties don't you know, and everything that went on in the sixties went on at The Crystal Apartments where I and Nanette lived. I participated wholeheartedly in the sexual revolution, but I was to find out that Nanette, although she liked to go to these functions because she knew most of the people, she did not avail herself of the fleshly treasures available. Still, Nanette and I managed, over the next week or so, to get acquainted and it seemed that she liked me and I knew I was infatuated with her.
Then came the riots.
For over a week we were hunkered down in groups at the Crystal Apartments, afraid to go out alone for anything! Actually we were afraid to go out . . . period. During this period Nanette and I became more involved, actually seeking one another out to talk about the mess we were living through. And about ourselves. The more I talked to her the more I became awed by her. That she proclaimed to me the very first night we became physical (kissing, feeling) that she was a virgin. I, of course, did not believe her. She was twenty-six, how could she be? I would find out later, after we were married, that she told me the truth. I am "outing" her here, because I personally think it was a spiritual decision that she'd made to remain chaste for her eventual husband. I respected that. In the time we were living in, the mid-sixties, nobody was a virgin. Nanette was, however, and I did not push it, there were no problems getting raw sex if that was what you wanted, and I did want it. To this day I am proud of myself (one of a pitiful few things I am proud of) for not pushing her into sex. Would she have given in if I had? I seriously doubt it.
I wasn't working regularly, day labor mostly. Nanette had a job with Richfield Oil in the mail room. Our was a strange courtship. It was mostly done at the apartment of an old man by the name of Cecil, or my apartment, my roommate was almost always gone getting into trouble. The fact that we began to notice each other just prior to the Watts riots was the reason for out closeness to the apartment. And after the riots, Los Angeles was still smmering and had a few hot spots, so most people went back to work, but when they got off work the usually didn't tary, they went straight home.
I did have some respite from the city, however, and that comes in the next chapter.
My Novels:
Write To Murder . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/956621
Margaret and David: A Love Story . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1072842
My Mother's Revenge . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1132742
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