Bonnie & Marda

Here are a couple of things that happened during my days in DC that left marks:

Bonnie

 

Unfortunately, my college years were all rated “G”, wasn't really what I'd hoped for, however working full time and taking as many as 23 credit hours per quarter kinda limited my social life. I was taking a full load directed toward a degree in electronic engineering and working at Northrup Page Communication Engineers. The fellows I worked for were mostly “graduates” of Bell Labs, probably the premier communications outfit in the world. Heck of a set of “tutors” for a little swamp critter from South Alabama looking for a EE degree!

Page designed troposcatter links for broadband service nation-wide in Iran (before Peanut Carter brought back the Assahola Killmania), Canada, and Vietnam plus encrypted communication for the military. It had 2,000 employees, of them, 1,200 field engineers plus a pretty little green-eyed blonde 19 year old (my age) secretary named Bonnie. We were somewhat smitten with each other and began having our lunches on a blanket in the park across the street. Seems we talked about nearly everything with her replies sometimes being somewhat non-secqueter. No matter, remember, I was smitten!
 

Of course there must be poetry, our favorite being the “Rubaiyat” of Omar Kyyam, of love and the brevity of life...Ah, yes! This was the Summer of '69! (sheesh...)
 

I spoke of my friend Jim who changed majors every time he got close to graduating, wasn't keen on getting drafted. His father was a K Street lawyer, a.k.a.  lobbyist. Rich
.

Jim would haul a load of us kids down to their “cabin” (think 10 BR house) on the lower Potomac where we would all catch crabs. Blue crabs from the river. What did you think I was talking about? We would go rob some poor farmers fields of sweet corn and watermelons. Life was good! G-rated but good.
 

Jim also hauled us up to a beach in upper Maryland, Ocean Beach if my memory serves. Really free and open, rare for a beach in the Bos-Wash corridor. It was far enough away that an over-niter was necessary with the mandatory camp fire. Life was still good. G-rated of course.
 

When Bonnie heard this, she said: “do you think we might go ourselves this week-end?”
 

Do you know how difficult it is to speak and self-administer CPR at the same time? Wouldn't matter anyway as my tongue was disconnected from my brain (what brain?) anyway!
 

That evening I told Joe Z., my roommate, about my day. He was four years older, a graduate EE, and also worked at Page. He looked skeptical.
 

The next day was great. Work was never smoother and our lunchtime picnic, grand! Two pair of bright and shining eyes and sparkling smiles! Old Omar never sounded better, “A loaf of wine, a jug of bread, and thou”. Ah, what the heck!
 

That evening, Joe asked me “Do you know who Bonnie is?”
 
“Sure, she's a secretary on the second floor.”
 
“She's the President's daughter.”
 

I feel the noose tightening around my neck.
 

“Her mother is in an insane asylum.”
 

The hood is being placed over my head.
 

“Bonnie has been in twice."
 

..sound of the hangman's trap being pulled.. At least the non-secqueters have been solved.
 

If I had any luck, aw, you know the rest.

 



Marda

After the near-disaster with Bonnie (I never saw her again), it was time to go back to my monastic ways. Around the middle of August, Jim called with an invite to a rock concert in New York. He said plan on four days and since I was still in a bit of a funk about Bonnie plus what with work and school (a sham really, I could easily take the time), I declined. The concert was Woodstock. Sometimes I wonder about my ability to make decisions.
 

Work was going well, got my first field assignment in Fort Monmouth, stayed in a really neat restored Revolutionary War period hotel. Got my second A+ in Psychology, did well in all the rest except calculus. The teacher was a Hindu and didn't speak a word of English. He gave out 29 F's and 1 A. The teach was really pissed, ranting and raving across the front of the classroom. At least we thought he was pissed, couldn't understand him! Oh, the one “A”, the fellow who got it had taken the course two quarters prior, got a F, home studied the material, then took this course for credit.
 

Time marches on, school went well, got assigned to Dave's power microwave unit... So goes the Fall and Winter. Spent Sunday afternoons in the Smithsonian, I loved that place! Donna, our 23 year old neighbor, and myself quite often could be found dangling our legs out our 9th floor windows, solving all the world's problems. One day she asked me if I would play tour guide in the Natural History Museum for a pair of her old college chums, a pair of school-marms from Oklahoma. I said absolutely! Spending a Saturday escorting three young women around the museum playing docent beats the heck out of calc and tracking filters on a fine March day! A shock was on its way...

Donna had gone to pick up her gal-pals at Washington National and I was having my usual chaste and decent Friday evening studying my Sunday School lessons (if you believe that, you are smoking the wrong stuff!) .

ANYWAY, when Donna got back with her charges, Joe and I went over for introductions. First, Joe faded from my vision, then Donna. The other gal never had a chance to register. Marda and I had fallen in love! (don't smoke that stuff. It'll stunt yer growth) Mor'n likely a case of a pair of bumble-puppies meeting and saying “let's play!” Later, Joe told me we were a hoot! He and Donna thought they might need a bucket of cold water!

The next day we went to the Natural History Museum. Excellent displays, lots of oo's and ah's. I'll leave out all but two. There is a full-size model of a blue whale, the largest creature ever to inhabit Earth and it never ceases to amaze all who see it. The second is a room with a rare stamp and coin collection plus a nice assortment of precious and semi-precious jewels. All nice and interesting and quite well guarded as they would make a big dent in the national debt back then. Then there is the Hope Diamond. Mesmerizing. One hardly feels the .38 caliber Police Special the guard has pressed against one's temple. (ma, take that funny looking cigaret outa his mouth!)

A good time was had by all that day. We went back to Donna's apartment to plan Sunday. It was a choice between Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's home, or Mount Vernon, George Washington's home. Did you know Washington was one hell of a moonshiner?
 

Monticello was just too far for a one day road trip so Mount Vernon it was. ...wait for it...
 

Marda was really taken by the Smithsonian, and if I would, she would like another day. Have you ever tried to perform self-CPR? (ma, he's into the funny cigarets again!)
 

We went to the Science and Industry Museum and one of the oddities was a dental X-ray chair with the original lead-glass shielded enclosure so brown from exposure I wonder how many lost their vision or died. There was also a steam locomotive (how did they get that monster in?) with one of the president's private cars. These days it's a 747 stretch with a 38 aircraft support team. Nothing's too good, etc...

There were displays of 19th century looms, fabrics, and tools that Marda really liked. I never knew I enjoyed that type of thing, found out that I sure did! (ma, something is wrong with Doofus. Want me to shoot the poor thing?)
 

We had lunch at a street vendor's cart. Those on the Mall were great, however on that day, salted rocks would've been just fine!
 

After an afternoon of enjoying the Mall, I brought her to a restaurant on M Street that was student-friendly, i.e., cheap with good eats. The large murals on the rear wall were Victorian. Kinda. Kinda blue for Victorian. Congress-critters often ate there and often showed their asses. One congress-thing, Wilber Mills I think, was often there with Fanny something-or-the-other, a lady of questionable morals. Seems old Wilber was mighty fond of the jug and had a tif with Fanny, there was a car, a bridge, (Key?) and a big splash. No serious injuries, wonder if old Wilber got re-elected... Probably.
 

After supper, we went to The Cellar Door that also liked students. 1) no cover. 2) cheap beer. 3) small, smokey dance floor (nice for slow dances, nudge nudge wink wink) and 4) sometimes you could catch Dr. John, the Night-Tripper. Look him up. Good stuff.
 

It was time to leave. It was also five miles home. She must be exhausted, me, I ran 12-15 miles each day and was good to go. She didn't want me to order us a cab, just to walk across to Georgetown, across Francis Scott Key Bridge, Roslyn, and home to Donna's door.
 

We knew we would very likely never meet again, her back to teaching and family (blood kin) in Oklahoma, me to finish school with San Francisco and Silicon Valley next winter. No sleep for me, just equal parts elation and despair. Fiddled around awhile, then went to school early and sat in calc class. One can't figure out everything with math. ...sigh...

To be continued...





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