CHAPTER 21
North Carolina
After I graduated from UC Berkeley in the spring of 1993, I went back to San Diego to vacation with my family for about a week. My mother, father, and my brother Ron dropped me off at San Diego’s Lindbergh Field International Airport where I flew to Raleigh – Durham International Airport in North Carolina. A research assistantship awaited me at the Triangle Universities Nuclear Laboratory (TUNL) at Duke University.
When I arrived in North Carolina, I rented a car and drove to a motel near Duke University off Erwin Road in Durham. Immediately, I called my family in California to let them know I safely arrived in North Carolina.
“Ken, as soon as we came home, the phone was ringing,” my mother said over the telephone from San Diego. “A lady from Harvard said you were admitted.”
The news stunned me. Harvard had been my dream school since high school. It seemed impossible to get admitted to a such a prestigious university, especially with my grades and test scores. For the first time in my life, I would sense the Hand of God at work. People in Berkeley had told me not to bother applying there since Harvard routinely rejected Berkeley graduates who did earn straight A’s.
I graduated from Berkeley with a B+ grade point average. Common wisdom even today predicts that only people with straight A’s or vast wealth get admitted to Harvard University. I defined common wisdom by Harvard admitting me without straight A’s. My strategy of working in scientific research paid off handsomely. I graduated from UC Berkeley with a B.A. in physics. I won an ONR – NDSEG Fellowship from the US Department of Defense. Finally, Harvard University admitted me to the Department of Physics to pursue a Ph.D. degree. I clearly had just about everything I wanted out of life.
Still, I had yet to report to Duke University and to claim the keys to my apartment at Duke’s Central Campus. Harvard’s timing was bad for everyone, but I rode on the high of being a Harvard man. For the moment, I continued with my plan to work at Duke’s nuclear laboratory. My mother gave me the name and phone number of Beth Rigos, the graduate student coordinator at Harvard’s Department of Physics.
The next day, I called collect Mrs. Rigos at Cambridge, Massachusetts. I explained to her my situation that I had already committed to Duke University for graduate school. Further, I already relocated to North Carolina.
“There are ways around this,” said Beth over the telephone from Massachusetts. She invited me to visit Harvard University at the expense of the Department of Physics. I agreed to keep in touch with her and the rest of the Physics Department at Harvard. I then proceeded to the Department of Physics at Duke University.
Mrs. Donna Ruger, a southern woman, welcomed me to Duke. She had me fill out paper work making me officially a Duke student and employee. I reported to Professor Russell Roberson, Director of the Triangle Universities Nuclear Laboratory. Professor Roberson likewise gave me a hearty welcome to TUNL and Duke. I decided to stay at Duke and forget Harvard.
In Berkeley, California I had spent months preparing to attend Duke long before I won the ONR – NDSEG Fellowship and much longer before Harvard admitted me. I didn’t want to waste all of my efforts. Yet, the prestige of Harvard called me. Duke, in spite of its reputation, didn’t exactly match Harvard on the prestige scale. I knew my career as a scientist heavily depended on the reputation of the university where I would earn my Ph.D. I strongly considered Duke while keeping in contact with Harvard’s Department of Physics.
Professor Henry Weller of TUNL and Duke because my principal investigator that summer of 1993. Henry studied gamma rays, and he had me study a doctoral dissertation on a nuclear physics instrument called a, “Moller polarimeter”. As a graduate student at Duke, I would construct a Moller polarimeter to measure the polarity of a radioactive electron beam. The polarity of the electron beam would provide vital information in nuclear physics experiments at the newly constructed Continuous Electron Beam Accelerator Facility (CEBAF) in Newport News, Virginia. I spent most of my days studying the doctoral dissertation on the Moller polarimeter.
Eventually, I notified Henry that Harvard had admitted me to graduate studies in physics. He had just become the Director of Graduate Studies in the Duke Department of Physics. He in turn notified the dean of the Graduate School at duke. The news created a minor scandal in the Duke Physics Department.
Duke had admitted me before I won the ONR – NDSEG Fellowship. Professor Roberson told me that Harvard admitted me because the fact I won a DoD fellowship meant it would cost Harvard nothing if I failed there since the DoD was paying for my graduate education, not Harvard itself. Professor Roberson had a good point, but he understood my desire to attend the prestigious university. Still, I feel today that Duke and Harvard are comparable in academic reputation. Yet, academic reputation guarantees really nothing as I learned over the years.
The American Council of Graduate Schools required me to secure a release of my commitment to Duke University before Harvard could offer a formal admission. The dean of the Duke Graduate School issued me a memo expressing his dismay at my departure from Duke. Yet, he released me from my commitment to Duke should I choose to leave.
On the Fourth of July weekend of 1993, I flew to Boston, Massachusetts. I took the T, Boston’s subway, to Harvard where I got lost. I knew I was at Harvard when I saw a red pickup truck with the words, “Harvard University” painted on the hood. Eventually, I found Jefferson Physical Laboratory, the red brick building that houses Harvard’s Department of Physics.
Carrying my brown suitcase, I was immediately recognized by a graduate student named Kent. He expected me to come around that time and the suitcase gave me away. We dropped off my suitcase at the departmental office. Ken worked for Professor Mara Prentiss, an experimental atomic physicist, who conducted research in laser cooling and trapping of neutral atoms. Kent rounded up Mara Prentiss’s graduate students and postdoctoral fellows. Her laboratory took me to lunch in Harvard Square.
Afterward, I met with Professor Prentiss who discussed her research program in experimental atomic physics. Professor Gerald Gabrielse, another experimental atomic physicist. Finally, I met with Professor Howard Georgi, chairman of the Department of Physics. All of them welcomed me to Harvard and encouraged me to attend. I immediately decided to attend the university. Beth Rigos sent me to my lodgings for the weekend, a bed and breakfast in Harvard Square. That weekend, then President Bill Clinton send cruise missiles into Iraq in retaliation for Saddam Hussein’s plot to assassinate former President George H.W. Bush. That weekend, I decided to take a tour of Harvard and Boston.
As I walked through Harvard Square, I said to myself, “Harvard! Harvard! Harvard!” over and over. My dream had come true. I took the T to the New England Aquarium in Boston. There, I toured Boston Harbor in a boat after visiting the aquarium. The next day I went to the offices of Harvard’s Graduate School of Arts and Sciences (GSAS) on Garden Street.
I gave the memo of release from Duke to an employee of Harvard GSAS. He said they would mail my admission letter to my apartment in North Carolina in a few days. By the end of the Fourth of July weekend of 1993, I returned to North Carolina. There, I prepared to relocate again, this time to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Back at Duke, I met a beautiful woman named Michelle Ponds. She had visited Duke the same day I did in the spring of 1993 and decided to attend the university.
When I saw her in the Physics Building in Durham, I introduced myself and she said she remembered me from the spring. As graduate students, we asked each other what our research fields were. I said I was researching experimental nuclear physics. Michelle said she researched chaos and nonlinear dynamics. I asked her what it is. Michelle said that chaos and nonlinear dynamics theory states in systems that scientists thought were too chaotic to study, there is actually a hidden order.
“That’s like a metaphor for God creating the universe,” I thought to myself as Michelle explained her research field. Thus began my return to the Lord Jesus Christ and to the Roman Catholic faith.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Sample Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Fighting UCSD
After I left 6161 West Charleston Boulevard, life improved somewhat. My mother and father applied for me to the Social Security Administration for Supplemental Security Income (SSI). My psychiatrist with Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services (SNAMHS) had diagnosed that I suffer from schizoaffective disorder, a combination of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. It is the worst of both worlds. Not only do I have the extreme euphoria and severe depression of bipolar disorder, I also have the psychotic features of schizophrenia including auditory, visual, and tactile hallucinations. As I experienced at Las Vegas Mental Health Center that SNAMHS runs I often have delusions. This condition is largely under control today, but from about 1993 to 2008, I lived a nightmare.
I had left graduate school at the University of California at San Diego (UCSD) with no money and no job. I wasn’t even sure if UCSD had granted me a master’s degree in physics. During my written qualifying examination at UCSD’s Department of Physics, I was so certain that I had failed, I just finished the physics problems I could do. I turned in my qualifying examination, packed all of my belongings, and moved to Las Vegas, Nevada to live with my parents.
I made a suicide attempt in January 2002 for a variety of reasons. My attempt to kill myself landed me in Las Vegas Mental Health Center. After the state mental hospital discharged me, I decided to find out the results of my Ph.D. qualifying examination from UCSD. I called Debra Bomar, the graduate student coordinator in the Department of Physics at UCSD.
“They gave you a master’s degree,” said Debra over the telephone. She explained that although I did not score high enough to continue graduate studies for a Ph.D. in physics, I had scored high enough to earn a master’s degree in physics. My parents and I celebrated by dining out at a local casino and having prime rib dinners. We all were overjoyed.
Debra helped me by sending the forms necessary to petition the university to confer on me the master’s degree. Soon, however, UCSD denied me the master’s degree due to a single requirement. I met all the other requirements including passing the extremely difficult Ph.D. qualifying examination at the level of Master of Science. That all important requirement I did not fulfill for the M.S. was the grade point average (GPA) requirement.
Most graduate schools including UCSD’s require a 3.0 GPA in order to confer an advanced degree such as an M.A., M.S., or Ph.D. I had earned a 2.76 GPA at UCSD, and thus the Graduate Division at UCSD denied me the master’s degree.
I attempted to appeal the denial of the master’s degree on the grounds that my GPA did not reflect my competence in the field of physics. My success on the Ph.D. qualifying examination showed my true competence in physics. My GPA, on the other hand, resulted from my disability, schizoaffective disorder. In spite of it I still passed the exam at the M.S. level. Yet, Dr. Richard Attiyeh, Dean of the of the Office of Graduate Studies and Research (OGSR) at UCSD stilled denied my claim to an M.S. in physics.
The whole affair smelled like discrimination against the disabled. I filed a formal complaint against UCSD with the United States Department of Education under the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (ADA). Under ADA, I alleged that UCSD discriminated against me due to my disability in its denial of my petition for a Master of Science degree in physics. However, neither UCSD nor the Department of Education were convinced by my arguments. The Department of Education upheld UCSD’s denial of a master’s degree.
Fighting UCSD
After I left 6161 West Charleston Boulevard, life improved somewhat. My mother and father applied for me to the Social Security Administration for Supplemental Security Income (SSI). My psychiatrist with Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services (SNAMHS) had diagnosed that I suffer from schizoaffective disorder, a combination of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. It is the worst of both worlds. Not only do I have the extreme euphoria and severe depression of bipolar disorder, I also have the psychotic features of schizophrenia including auditory, visual, and tactile hallucinations. As I experienced at Las Vegas Mental Health Center that SNAMHS runs I often have delusions. This condition is largely under control today, but from about 1993 to 2008, I lived a nightmare.
I had left graduate school at the University of California at San Diego (UCSD) with no money and no job. I wasn’t even sure if UCSD had granted me a master’s degree in physics. During my written qualifying examination at UCSD’s Department of Physics, I was so certain that I had failed, I just finished the physics problems I could do. I turned in my qualifying examination, packed all of my belongings, and moved to Las Vegas, Nevada to live with my parents.
I made a suicide attempt in January 2002 for a variety of reasons. My attempt to kill myself landed me in Las Vegas Mental Health Center. After the state mental hospital discharged me, I decided to find out the results of my Ph.D. qualifying examination from UCSD. I called Debra Bomar, the graduate student coordinator in the Department of Physics at UCSD.
“They gave you a master’s degree,” said Debra over the telephone. She explained that although I did not score high enough to continue graduate studies for a Ph.D. in physics, I had scored high enough to earn a master’s degree in physics. My parents and I celebrated by dining out at a local casino and having prime rib dinners. We all were overjoyed.
Debra helped me by sending the forms necessary to petition the university to confer on me the master’s degree. Soon, however, UCSD denied me the master’s degree due to a single requirement. I met all the other requirements including passing the extremely difficult Ph.D. qualifying examination at the level of Master of Science. That all important requirement I did not fulfill for the M.S. was the grade point average (GPA) requirement.
Most graduate schools including UCSD’s require a 3.0 GPA in order to confer an advanced degree such as an M.A., M.S., or Ph.D. I had earned a 2.76 GPA at UCSD, and thus the Graduate Division at UCSD denied me the master’s degree.
I attempted to appeal the denial of the master’s degree on the grounds that my GPA did not reflect my competence in the field of physics. My success on the Ph.D. qualifying examination showed my true competence in physics. My GPA, on the other hand, resulted from my disability, schizoaffective disorder. In spite of it I still passed the exam at the M.S. level. Yet, Dr. Richard Attiyeh, Dean of the of the Office of Graduate Studies and Research (OGSR) at UCSD stilled denied my claim to an M.S. in physics.
The whole affair smelled like discrimination against the disabled. I filed a formal complaint against UCSD with the United States Department of Education under the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (ADA). Under ADA, I alleged that UCSD discriminated against me due to my disability in its denial of my petition for a Master of Science degree in physics. However, neither UCSD nor the Department of Education were convinced by my arguments. The Department of Education upheld UCSD’s denial of a master’s degree.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Comment On Part II
In Part I of Shield of Faith, I wrote every other chapter about Hell, or Las Vegas Mental Health Center at 6161 West Charleston Blvd. Those chapters detailed my delusion of being in Hell the first time at the state mental institution. Every other chapter described other times in my life, usually happy ones.
Part II of this memoir follows a similar pattern. Every other chapter describes my experiences as a disabled man in Las Vegas starting in 2001 after I left Las Vegas Mental Health Center from my first hospitalization there. The other chapters describe times other than the miserable years in Las Vegas.
Part II of this memoir follows a similar pattern. Every other chapter describes my experiences as a disabled man in Las Vegas starting in 2001 after I left Las Vegas Mental Health Center from my first hospitalization there. The other chapters describe times other than the miserable years in Las Vegas.
Part II and Sample Chapter 12
PART II
CHAPTER 12
The Brethren of the Bitter
At Tellefsen Hall in Berkeley, I started a club for men of the Cal Band who were frustrated with women. It started off as a joke that went out of control. The origin of the Brethren of the Bitter lays with my crush on a young woman named Melinda Ng, who played the cymbals and later switched to trombone. She was a petite Asian woman with short black hair. Men of the Cal Band often tried to get the new women of the band to like them by helping the women learn their marching fundamentals during FTP.
The Cal Band held FTP at the University of California at Davis, and we stayed in a dormitory on campus. I was asked to help Melinda learn her marching fundamentals. We practiced in the hallways of the dormitory at UC Davis. Since Melinda had missed much of FTP due to an orientation she had to attend at Berkeley, I had to instruct her in the Cal Band marching style.
Something about teaching a woman something one-on-one left me enamored with Melinda. She was a new member of the Cal Band, and as an oldman (Cal Band jargon for “veteran”) I was her mentor. Eventually, I deluded myself into thinking she had amorous feelings for me. So I invited her to the Festival of Animation held later at UC Berkeley.
My friend at the time, Rich Wong, also invited a lot of other people from the Cal Band to the festival. Rich and I had planned to go with our dates together. He was interested in a Miss Teresa Sanchez, also a newman (Cal Band jargon for “new member”). She too played the cymbals. (Teresa and I would have our own fling about a year later.)
Of course, Rich invited Teresa, his love interest, to the Festival of Animation. So what originally started out as a double date (in my mind at least) turned into a Cal Band excursion. A large group of us all walked from the Band Rehearsal Hall (BRH) to Wheeler Auditorium. Melinda, however, had no idea our outing was supposed to be a date. When she didn’t sit next to me in the auditorium, I became frustrated. In the middle of the festival, I just stood up and went home alone.
I grew bitter with women in general. I made sarcastic jokes about how women never give men (or at least me) a chance. My frustration turned into rants against all women. Phil Escamilla, my roommate and best friend at the time, started calling me, “Hate Guru”. As a joke, I started calling Phil, “Hate Monger”. Our other friend at the time, Wayne Blake, also a Cal Band member and TH resident, Phil and I named, “Hate Lover”. I have to admit that was a dumb name, but I thought it was funny at the time. Phil, Wayne, and I thus invented “hate names” because we hated women.
Together, we formed the Brethren of the Bitter. We were Brethren because we are men, and we were Bitter because women wouldn’t go out with us. Our exclusive club, within TH, which was a club within the Cal Band, began to grow. Other men of the band frustrated with women joined. To join the Brethren of the Bitter, prospective members had to tell current brethren during a meeting their “nuke stories”. When a Cal Band man told the Brethren his nuke story, he told us of how a women (or women) rejected or “nuked” him. Upon delivery of the nuke story, the new brother received his hate name, such as Hate Sponge for example.
We Brethren tried to make the hate names clever and witty, but we weren’t always so successful. Wayne didn’t like being called “Hate Lover”. The Brethren of the Bitter gave hate names to all of the Cal Band women, especially Melinda. We called her, “The Emperor”, in reference to the Emperor of the Star Wars Trilogy movies. Phil carried a torch for Melinda’s friend Angel Hsu, a snare drummer. So we Brethren called Angel, “Darth Vader”. We Brethren gave silly names to Cal Band women and to ourselves. I don’t know for sure if the Cal Band women knew their hate names.
The whole Brethren of the Bitter club was one big inside joke. Luckily, it did not get too much out of control. Most Cal Band members dismissed us as guys with too much time on our hands. The Brethren of the Bitter eventually disbanded after I graduated from Berkeley in 1993.
CHAPTER 12
The Brethren of the Bitter
At Tellefsen Hall in Berkeley, I started a club for men of the Cal Band who were frustrated with women. It started off as a joke that went out of control. The origin of the Brethren of the Bitter lays with my crush on a young woman named Melinda Ng, who played the cymbals and later switched to trombone. She was a petite Asian woman with short black hair. Men of the Cal Band often tried to get the new women of the band to like them by helping the women learn their marching fundamentals during FTP.
The Cal Band held FTP at the University of California at Davis, and we stayed in a dormitory on campus. I was asked to help Melinda learn her marching fundamentals. We practiced in the hallways of the dormitory at UC Davis. Since Melinda had missed much of FTP due to an orientation she had to attend at Berkeley, I had to instruct her in the Cal Band marching style.
Something about teaching a woman something one-on-one left me enamored with Melinda. She was a new member of the Cal Band, and as an oldman (Cal Band jargon for “veteran”) I was her mentor. Eventually, I deluded myself into thinking she had amorous feelings for me. So I invited her to the Festival of Animation held later at UC Berkeley.
My friend at the time, Rich Wong, also invited a lot of other people from the Cal Band to the festival. Rich and I had planned to go with our dates together. He was interested in a Miss Teresa Sanchez, also a newman (Cal Band jargon for “new member”). She too played the cymbals. (Teresa and I would have our own fling about a year later.)
Of course, Rich invited Teresa, his love interest, to the Festival of Animation. So what originally started out as a double date (in my mind at least) turned into a Cal Band excursion. A large group of us all walked from the Band Rehearsal Hall (BRH) to Wheeler Auditorium. Melinda, however, had no idea our outing was supposed to be a date. When she didn’t sit next to me in the auditorium, I became frustrated. In the middle of the festival, I just stood up and went home alone.
I grew bitter with women in general. I made sarcastic jokes about how women never give men (or at least me) a chance. My frustration turned into rants against all women. Phil Escamilla, my roommate and best friend at the time, started calling me, “Hate Guru”. As a joke, I started calling Phil, “Hate Monger”. Our other friend at the time, Wayne Blake, also a Cal Band member and TH resident, Phil and I named, “Hate Lover”. I have to admit that was a dumb name, but I thought it was funny at the time. Phil, Wayne, and I thus invented “hate names” because we hated women.
Together, we formed the Brethren of the Bitter. We were Brethren because we are men, and we were Bitter because women wouldn’t go out with us. Our exclusive club, within TH, which was a club within the Cal Band, began to grow. Other men of the band frustrated with women joined. To join the Brethren of the Bitter, prospective members had to tell current brethren during a meeting their “nuke stories”. When a Cal Band man told the Brethren his nuke story, he told us of how a women (or women) rejected or “nuked” him. Upon delivery of the nuke story, the new brother received his hate name, such as Hate Sponge for example.
We Brethren tried to make the hate names clever and witty, but we weren’t always so successful. Wayne didn’t like being called “Hate Lover”. The Brethren of the Bitter gave hate names to all of the Cal Band women, especially Melinda. We called her, “The Emperor”, in reference to the Emperor of the Star Wars Trilogy movies. Phil carried a torch for Melinda’s friend Angel Hsu, a snare drummer. So we Brethren called Angel, “Darth Vader”. We Brethren gave silly names to Cal Band women and to ourselves. I don’t know for sure if the Cal Band women knew their hate names.
The whole Brethren of the Bitter club was one big inside joke. Luckily, it did not get too much out of control. Most Cal Band members dismissed us as guys with too much time on our hands. The Brethren of the Bitter eventually disbanded after I graduated from Berkeley in 1993.
Sample Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Joy In Hell
In the Penthouse, I met a young lady named Kira. She was an African-American with the eyes of an Asian. She was pregnant when I met her, and I really didn’t know her story. All of us souls of the damned had his or her story of why he or she was in Hell. I had committed suicide so that explained my presence there. For the most part, I didn’t ask anyone else why he or she was there.
Kira was very pretty and very friendly, although she didn’t speak to me much. She did hang out with two other souls, Alfred and Diane. Alfred and Diane themselves were a couple formed there at 6161 West Charleston Boulevard. You can apparently find love even in Hell. I loved looking at Kira.
She had a beautiful slender figure, and her bubbly personality brought joy to many people, including me. I had reasons to believe I had died and gone to Hell. I also had evidence to challenge that belief. With the presence of bubbly and beautiful Kira, I began to suspect that I actually was alive and in a mental hospital. Still, I had thought that as punishment for my sins, the Almighty sent me to a mental hospital in Hell for all eternity.
Now, Hell held dances every Saturday night. Kira asked me to dance with her, but I was too bashful to accept her invitation. The other souls encouraged me to dance. So later, I asked Kira to dance with me. We stepped out into the tiny dance floor. Kira held both of my hands and looked into my eyes.
I was in Heaven! Fireworks went off in my mind. It was as if Kira knew I liked her, and she felt the same way about me. I felt so much joy at that moment, I could not be in Hell. I realized I had a delusion that I had died and gone to Hell. In fact, I realized I was in Las Vegas Mental Health Center, a state mental institution of the State of Nevada. Quickly, I recovered after my dance with Kira. Dave, my social worker discharged me into the care of my parents, Pablo and Conchita Molles.
Joy In Hell
In the Penthouse, I met a young lady named Kira. She was an African-American with the eyes of an Asian. She was pregnant when I met her, and I really didn’t know her story. All of us souls of the damned had his or her story of why he or she was in Hell. I had committed suicide so that explained my presence there. For the most part, I didn’t ask anyone else why he or she was there.
Kira was very pretty and very friendly, although she didn’t speak to me much. She did hang out with two other souls, Alfred and Diane. Alfred and Diane themselves were a couple formed there at 6161 West Charleston Boulevard. You can apparently find love even in Hell. I loved looking at Kira.
She had a beautiful slender figure, and her bubbly personality brought joy to many people, including me. I had reasons to believe I had died and gone to Hell. I also had evidence to challenge that belief. With the presence of bubbly and beautiful Kira, I began to suspect that I actually was alive and in a mental hospital. Still, I had thought that as punishment for my sins, the Almighty sent me to a mental hospital in Hell for all eternity.
Now, Hell held dances every Saturday night. Kira asked me to dance with her, but I was too bashful to accept her invitation. The other souls encouraged me to dance. So later, I asked Kira to dance with me. We stepped out into the tiny dance floor. Kira held both of my hands and looked into my eyes.
I was in Heaven! Fireworks went off in my mind. It was as if Kira knew I liked her, and she felt the same way about me. I felt so much joy at that moment, I could not be in Hell. I realized I had a delusion that I had died and gone to Hell. In fact, I realized I was in Las Vegas Mental Health Center, a state mental institution of the State of Nevada. Quickly, I recovered after my dance with Kira. Dave, my social worker discharged me into the care of my parents, Pablo and Conchita Molles.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sample Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Heather
In my freshman year at UC Berkeley, I had a second love. Like with Anna, my second love went unrequited. I’ll never forget the first thing this other woman said to me.
“My boyfriend dropped me off this morning,” said Miss Heather Cecchettini. I met her while walking down Durant Avenue in Berkeley to band practice early in the fall of 1989. She was a beautiful young woman with short wave blond hair. Her light skin seemed to glow. She had a great smile and beautiful blue eyes.
Heather played the piccolo, a small flute, while I played the trombone. We both lived in Unit I, one of the three so-called units, which consisted of four high rise dormitory buildings. Heather lived in Deutsch Hall next to Cheney Hall, my dormitory, our freshman year in college. We both marched with the University of California Marching Band or Cal Band, as the band is more popularly known.
The most striking characteristic Heather possessed was her absolute love, devotion, and commitment to her then boyfriend, Shan Daroczi, who attended California Polytechnic University at San Luis Obispo. The couple met in Placerville, California in the northern part of the state during their high school years. The two maintained a long distance relationship, and Heather was determined never to let any man, including me, get between her and her true love, Shan.
Heather loved the 1980s song, “Right Here Waiting,” by Richard Marx, a song about love that endures over long distance. Heather also liked to say the two words, “True love,” which she quoted from the romantic-comedy movie, “The Princess Bride”. I was too selfish at the time to see how much she truly loved Shan. I just wanted Heather all for myself.
We often shared a meal in the different dining commons that UC Berkeley operated, especially the one at Unit I. Heather was very health conscious. She was vegetarian and loved to work out. I went out with her once. Between semesters our freshman year, Heather and I went to San Francisco to visit Steinhardt Aquarium at the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. As a boy, I had enjoyed keeping aquariums, and I always wanted to see Steinhardt Aquarium. Heather made an excellent tour guide. We spent the whole day together that winter of 1990.
Of course, we went out as friends and nothing more. In my experience women just want to be friends, at least with me. Every girl or woman I knew was like Heather – unavailable. Such was the case all of my life. Still, I felt like one of Heather’s fill-in boyfriends. We went to the movies once to watch “Ghost”, starring Patrick Swayze and Whoopi Goldberg. Heather loved the movie since it was a romantic movie. It reminded her of her long distance boyfriend. In no way was I special to Heather. To her, I was just another guy.
That did not mean, she didn’t know how I felt about her. Perhaps, I made my feelings clear to her when I asked her to go to the Tellefsen Hall Fall Formal of 1990 with me. Starting our sophomore year, I lived in Tellefsen Hall (TH), a fraternity style house for men of the Cal Band. Today, TH houses men and women of the Cal Band, but the same community spirit lives there.
“Of course, we’d go as friends,” I said to Heather one night after band practice. She just said she’d think about it and ask her boyfriend for his approval. I don’t know what possessed me to ask out Heather on a real romantic date. After all, she was taken. Yet, I can honestly say years later that I loved Heather. I loved her, even when she didn’t love me. Such is unrequited love.
Heather didn’t surprise me when she turned down my invitation to the TH Fall Formal. She rejected me by the bridge to Tellefsen Hall over a fork of Strawberry Creek at night. We continued our friendship for a long time. One year, though, I decided to be a jerk and ignore Heather. I pretended she didn’t exist even when she spoke to me. I tried to justify my behavior on the grounds I needed to stop the feelings I had for Heather. Nevertheless, I made Heather angry.
There was no way I could compete with her boyfriend. Early in our friendship, Heather had made it clear to me she intended to marry Shan. I kept pretending she didn’t exist for a year. Then in our senior year at UC Berkeley, I apologized to her at the Fall Training Program (FTP). At FTP, the Cal Band trained new members and allowed returning members to review their marching and music fundamentals. I saw Heather sitting by herself on a lawn and just said, “I’m sorry Heather. Can we be friends again?”
Of course, Heather was not so willing to take me back as a friend immediately. I had not spoken to her in almost a year, and yet I expected her to forgive me? Healing took time. Our friendship was not the way it was before my ignore Heather phase. She was a little distant and less trusting of me. Finally, before graduation from UC Berkeley in 1993, Heather didn’t surprise me when she told everyone in the Cal Band that she and Shan were engaged to be married.
Heather
In my freshman year at UC Berkeley, I had a second love. Like with Anna, my second love went unrequited. I’ll never forget the first thing this other woman said to me.
“My boyfriend dropped me off this morning,” said Miss Heather Cecchettini. I met her while walking down Durant Avenue in Berkeley to band practice early in the fall of 1989. She was a beautiful young woman with short wave blond hair. Her light skin seemed to glow. She had a great smile and beautiful blue eyes.
Heather played the piccolo, a small flute, while I played the trombone. We both lived in Unit I, one of the three so-called units, which consisted of four high rise dormitory buildings. Heather lived in Deutsch Hall next to Cheney Hall, my dormitory, our freshman year in college. We both marched with the University of California Marching Band or Cal Band, as the band is more popularly known.
The most striking characteristic Heather possessed was her absolute love, devotion, and commitment to her then boyfriend, Shan Daroczi, who attended California Polytechnic University at San Luis Obispo. The couple met in Placerville, California in the northern part of the state during their high school years. The two maintained a long distance relationship, and Heather was determined never to let any man, including me, get between her and her true love, Shan.
Heather loved the 1980s song, “Right Here Waiting,” by Richard Marx, a song about love that endures over long distance. Heather also liked to say the two words, “True love,” which she quoted from the romantic-comedy movie, “The Princess Bride”. I was too selfish at the time to see how much she truly loved Shan. I just wanted Heather all for myself.
We often shared a meal in the different dining commons that UC Berkeley operated, especially the one at Unit I. Heather was very health conscious. She was vegetarian and loved to work out. I went out with her once. Between semesters our freshman year, Heather and I went to San Francisco to visit Steinhardt Aquarium at the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. As a boy, I had enjoyed keeping aquariums, and I always wanted to see Steinhardt Aquarium. Heather made an excellent tour guide. We spent the whole day together that winter of 1990.
Of course, we went out as friends and nothing more. In my experience women just want to be friends, at least with me. Every girl or woman I knew was like Heather – unavailable. Such was the case all of my life. Still, I felt like one of Heather’s fill-in boyfriends. We went to the movies once to watch “Ghost”, starring Patrick Swayze and Whoopi Goldberg. Heather loved the movie since it was a romantic movie. It reminded her of her long distance boyfriend. In no way was I special to Heather. To her, I was just another guy.
That did not mean, she didn’t know how I felt about her. Perhaps, I made my feelings clear to her when I asked her to go to the Tellefsen Hall Fall Formal of 1990 with me. Starting our sophomore year, I lived in Tellefsen Hall (TH), a fraternity style house for men of the Cal Band. Today, TH houses men and women of the Cal Band, but the same community spirit lives there.
“Of course, we’d go as friends,” I said to Heather one night after band practice. She just said she’d think about it and ask her boyfriend for his approval. I don’t know what possessed me to ask out Heather on a real romantic date. After all, she was taken. Yet, I can honestly say years later that I loved Heather. I loved her, even when she didn’t love me. Such is unrequited love.
Heather didn’t surprise me when she turned down my invitation to the TH Fall Formal. She rejected me by the bridge to Tellefsen Hall over a fork of Strawberry Creek at night. We continued our friendship for a long time. One year, though, I decided to be a jerk and ignore Heather. I pretended she didn’t exist even when she spoke to me. I tried to justify my behavior on the grounds I needed to stop the feelings I had for Heather. Nevertheless, I made Heather angry.
There was no way I could compete with her boyfriend. Early in our friendship, Heather had made it clear to me she intended to marry Shan. I kept pretending she didn’t exist for a year. Then in our senior year at UC Berkeley, I apologized to her at the Fall Training Program (FTP). At FTP, the Cal Band trained new members and allowed returning members to review their marching and music fundamentals. I saw Heather sitting by herself on a lawn and just said, “I’m sorry Heather. Can we be friends again?”
Of course, Heather was not so willing to take me back as a friend immediately. I had not spoken to her in almost a year, and yet I expected her to forgive me? Healing took time. Our friendship was not the way it was before my ignore Heather phase. She was a little distant and less trusting of me. Finally, before graduation from UC Berkeley in 1993, Heather didn’t surprise me when she told everyone in the Cal Band that she and Shan were engaged to be married.
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Througout Shield of Faith, I follow two tracks: The misery of Las Vegas from about 2001 to 2008. I write about these time every other chapter. Every other chapter then is devoted to a more happy time.
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