This story is brought to you by my son and his continuous snooping. Having jarred memories in doing so. Sitting in my parents living room after my father arrived home from the hospital chatting with them and their preacher who came by to wish him well. I was on the computer and we were all laughing and going over the events of the previous weekend half out of our minds from exhaustion.
Keaton, my son is digging through my parents china cabinet looking for everything and nothing at the same time. Just exploring. My mom and dads house has been theirs for the past 30 years and as you can imagine there is probably 30 years worth of stuff in those cabinets. All of a sudden I hear," Grandy! I found an old paper, it is from 1993." My ears perked up real quick and I said. " I don't think Keaton needs to be reading the Banner Press from 1993." Poor Keaton was so interested in it as I snatched it out of his hands before he could see what I would never want him to. I may cross that bridge one day but not at that moment. He is 11 and would tell whoever he came in contact with.
And here's why....
After coming back from Austin to live at home with my parents. I did find a job doing hair in a little shop. I was sooo incompetent. This was not for me and I knew it. Staring at the clientele as they left the building scrutinizing over every hair. Never feeling like the haircut was right. Torcherous,but I had a job.
Leaving behind my friends in Austin wasn't easy. Leaving that lifestyle behind was even worse in my eyes. Back in this lazy town with absolutely no night life, period. There were still the people here that we had left behind. Long story short I tried to make the best with what I had to continue on the road I was on. Parties and hanging out at other stoners houses was a nightly thing for me.
These are the times that become so confusing for me.The timeline. In my mind I think I know in what chronocological order they belong but then I know there was no way. All I know is that these things happened and that's that. If I had to put a time on it I think this day happened before I moved to Austin. OK,sorry it drives me nuts.
Twas a rainy day and as usual I was in bed until at least noon, it may have been 2. I remember waking up and looking under the blinds to the world outside. The sun was bursting through the rain clouds. Immediately excited, knowing I had a short window of time to accomplish what needed to be done. Springing out of bed and grabbing the phone as every criminal needs an accompliss. The unlucky girl would be Doris. She was a 6 foot tall, 350 pound, 18 year old , freckle faced girl, who most people mistook for a man. Well, she dressed like one, again with the combat boots and army fatigues, she had the presence of a giant. She was strange and different and I loved it. We were pals and she was on board with the days plans. 30 minutes later I was picking her up and we were off to 3 bridges where the cows were fed the exact right type of grain to produce the lovliest mushrooms after a rain. Armed with our hefty sacks we entered the pasture and began picking. Mushrooms were every where. Our eyes were bigger than the time we had allowed to us, as we were tresspassing. By this time, I remember it being close or after 5 and the traffic of people going home from work. We loaded our booty and headed for her apartment.
We were being followed and I knew it was over. The sherriff was coming to get me, as we reached the apartment there were by this time several cop cars arriving with us and we were caught. Taken to the police department, questioned and released. That was it? We were not arrested. Just comfiscated the mushrooms and let go. Whew! That was close.
Moving forward a year, I was back from Austin ,working and I guess trying a little bit to do the right thing. Although I was still on drugs. Chatter was going around town that there was going to be this big drug bust. A round up of sorts. Thoughts of that day so long ago came flooding back. Could I be a part of that? I remember sitting at work one day talking to my fellow hairstylist and telling her about it and that maybe I would be involved in it. I was right.
Two or three days later while I was at work, in came the police and notified me that I was under arrest and needed to come with them. As we walked out of the door of the salon it was quite a show. Several cruisers were there to get ME. Like I was going to run or something. Along with the newspapers photographer. This couldn't be good.
Booked at the station and put in a holding cell. Sitting there with the few other women that were arrested in the same sting. It seems I was the story that day, because, as they were letting me out to speak with my lawyer, somehow TV cameras from the show City Under Seige were let in the back to approach me and question me about what I did to get here. Shocked and pissed about it because I could see the police in the background smiling about their accomplishments. I was none too pleased. I made a smart remark and my lawyer jumped in front of the camera. Bail was posted and I went home to the shame and embarrassment of facing my parents.
Next day...I was in the paper. Not the Brenham Beat people which a little exerpt in the paper listing 911 calls and arrests. I was on the front page of the paper. My picture the one they took as the police walked me out of my work. Headline news. I couldn't believe it and personally I was enraged. I was made an example. They held on to my case for a year so they could do this. I still think it was shady. Besides the paper I was also on the evening broadcast of City Under Seige which was kinda like Cops but it was based in Houston. I am from Houston and so are all my Aunts and Uncles. Needless to say the phone was ringing at our house.
My second arrest. Remember? I got caught shoplifting earlier in life. The court was not too pleased with me and my behavior. 5 years probation (ejudicated) 250 hours community service. Hefty fines which my parents paid and I never knew the amount and at the time was so screwed up didn't even ask. Enabled? Little bit.
This was meant to be a wake up call. Turn it all around and go on the path of the straight and narrow. Yeah right. By all accounts it did nothing but make me mad and hate where I was even more. It was on, and I was rebelling against any and all authority.
To be continued....
