Mary Ann

This vignette starts in the summer of 1959.  I was fresh out of high school with no real prospects of going to college.  My parents barely made a living with both of them working full time, and they had four other children to care for besides me.  So it wasn't within their means to send me to college, although all my aptitudes and courses in high school pointed me in that direction, and that also was my inclination and expectation. 

I also wanted to be a pilot, and my first attempt was to apply for the US Navy Reserve Officer's Training Course.  The Navy required a pilot trainee to be a college graduate.  If I was accepted, the US Navy would pay my way through college, and also train me to be a navy pilot.  I passed the intelligence and aptitude parts of the Navy exams with ease.  Then I went for a physical exam.  The Navy doctor reported me as having extensive ichthyosis, an inherited skin condition characterized by dry, scaly skin.  I did have some, but I did not think it was extensive.  Nevertheless, the Navy denied my application on the basis of the physical.  That left me with a kind of cold feeling for the US Navy, the US government in general, and maybe the whole world.  For a few weeks I just kind sat in a daze wondering what my next step was.  If the US Navy wasn't an option for college and pilot training, then what else might be?

Then I learned that the US Air Force still accepted high school graduates into their pilot training program.  You had to be 19 to apply, and I was only 18 at the time.  But I decided to join anyway, and then I could apply when I turned 19.  The application and testing was easy for me, and the physical was also easy - it was mid-summer, and there was no presence nor mention of my skin condition.  I was accepted as an enlisted man and ordered to report to Lackland Air force Base in San Antonio, Texas for basic training.  US Air Force basic training isn't very hard, and after I completed the basic training I was given some limited occupational choices.  I was assigned for Gunnery Training at Lowery Air Force Base in Denver Colorado.  The Air Force herded all of us going to Lowery on an Air Force troop transport aircraft, Several hours later (these planes don't fly very fast) we landed at Lowery Air Force Base in Denver, Colorado.     

Gunnery training wasn't scheduled to start for a few weeks, so I had a lot of free time on my hand.  Even after school started, there was plenty of free time to spare, as being in the Air Force was just like having a civilian job -- a very easy civilian job.  The pay was lousy, but the basics -- clothing (in the form of uniforms), shelter (50-man barracks), and food -- was free.  Once out of basic training and at Lowery, we had automatic permission to go off-base on the weekends, and once we earned our first stripe, we could go off base anytime we wanted.

Wandering around Denver on my free time, with some of my barracks buddies, or sometimes alone, I soon learned the local Denver boys didn't like us Air Force types, and took to calling us "bus drivers."  I have to admit that our standard blue uniform had the shape and look of a Denver city bus driver.  To offset the local antipathy, Lowery AFB had an enlisted men's recreation center (Arnold Hall, after the legendary General "Hap" Arnold) that once or twice a month sponsored a dance for airman.  A lot of local girls would come to these events just to meet guys.  We got few opportunities in the six weeks of basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas to go to such events.  But now in Lowery AFB in Denver, Colorado, I could attend all the time if I chose to. 

I never had much time or money for dating.  I've always been told that I was a good looking guy, and I can't count how many women have told me that I have beautiful eyes.  And I was also physically fit and trim.  But when I was going to high school, I worked a newspaper route morning and evening seven days a week.  When I wasn't delivering newspapers, I was collecting the delivery bill from customers, most of whom were just renting the duplex they lived in, and half of whom moved out without paying me.  I also had to buy most of my clothing from what I earned, which wasn't much after paying for the newspapers I bought in bulk.  In the Air Force, I still didn't have a lot of money, as an airman's pay was pretty pitiful.  But I did have lots of time. 

It was my very first attendance at one of these on-base dance events that I saw her -- a nice looking, young Hispanic girl that was surrounded by airmen begging her for a dance and also for her name and phone number.  She was slim, with long black hair, and light brown skin.  She was refusing all the guys around her.  Now, these outside girls were supposed to be at least 18 years old to get on the base.  She looked younger than that.  In any event, she was pretty, and attractive -- just my type.  I saw her glance my way with a look that said I might be welcome.  So I shouldered my way through the gaggle of guys surrounding her and asked for her name,  She smiled and whispered it in my ear so the other guys wouldn't hear it, and we walked around all evening hand-in-hand.  When we danced, and other guys tried to cut in, we refused them.  I can't remember a single thing we talked about, except that besides her name she did tell me she was only 16. 

Her name was Mary Ann Lopez.  I don't hesitate to use it because it is is a very common Hispanic name, and I doubt she even remembers me after fifty years.  She was a very welcome encounter in what for me was otherwise a rather bleak life.  Not that the Air Force didn't have adventure and opportunity for many people.  It was just that I was cut out to operate at the officer and pilot level -- college material if you will, more or less trapped temporarily in a mundane manual skill level far below my capability -- and I knew it.  And I was still months away from my 19th birthday, which would allow me to apply to be a pilot and an officer.

My first encounter with her went very well, and we seem to hit it off -- mutual attraction, if you will.  When the dance event was over I couldn't take her home, because I didn't yet have permission to go off base anytime I wanted to.  I did walk her to the bus stop so she was safe, and she gave me her telephone number so I could call her.

The next opportunity off base I bought myself some civilian clothes.  I didn't yet have permission to wear civilian clothes, as that didn't occur until I earned my first stripe.  Technically, we were still boot camp refugees, and still had a curfew.  However, the barracks we lived in had both low ranking trainees like myself interspersed with higher ranking airmen who could come and go as they pleased.  So no one was really checking up on us.  I had noticed that the  military police guarding the entrance gates were pretty lax and only checked pedestrians walking in and out, and never seemed to check anyone riding the bus.  So I took a chance and wore my civilian clothes to go on and off base by taking the bus, rather than walking out.  Once an MP at the gate climbed on the bus and walked straight toward me.  I thought I was toast.  But he just yelped at the guy behind me to straighten his hat.  My barracks buddies riding on the bus with me later remarked that I had turned white.  I never did get caught, and it wasn't long before that first stripe came and it didn't matter anymore.

I didn't wait long to call Mary Ann,  She answered the phone when I called, so maybe she was waiting for the phone to ring.  We dated a few times.  I think we met several times just walking around, and she seemed understanding that I just didn't have much in the financial department to treat her to much. Once we met a few blocks from her home where she introduced me to her younger sister, maybe to show me off.  Her younger sister was actually better looking (in my opinion) than she was.  Since we were close to her house, I asked if I could meet her parents.  But she said that they wouldn't approve of me -- because I was an Airman, and because I wasn't Hispanic, and maybe she said added because I wasn't Catholic.

This was the very first time I ever heard anyone remark that my ethnicity, occupation, or religious views might be objectionable to anyone.  However, it didn't seem to make any difference to Mary Ann, so I thought no more of it.

Normally it was just her and I together, wandering around with no particular destination, just enjoying each other's company.  So it was a surprise that she asked me to bring a friend along for her girlfriend, for a double date the next weekend.  For the life of me I can't remember who was the friend I brought with me, nor the other girl she brought with her. 

On the double date we walked around for awhile, and maybe we went somewhere to sit and talk, but I can't remember a single detail about it.  Later in the evening, though, she invited me and our double daters to her "employer's pad, who was out of town.  From what I remember of that conversation she worked as a housemaid or nanny for this woman or family.  They were out of town, she had a key, and we could go there and relax, eat a meal, and watch TV together. 

It's funny that I don't remember how we got from wherever we were to wherever we were going.  I am pretty sure we took a bus, because none of us had a car.  And I remember a long bus ride taking us far from the base.  Anyway, eventually we were there, and we were essentially alone.  The other couple eventually left early, leaving her and I alone in the home.  Eventually we found ourselves in the bedroom just laying on the bed with our clothes on, and kissing and holding each other close.  I started a wandering hand under her blouse and eventually under her bra, fondling her breasts.  She was resisting me going any further.  Then she sat up and told me to leave, that I wasn't respecting her. 

So I left in the  long, empty, cold night -- a long way from the base.  The buses in Denver stop running at midnight, so I'm not sure how I got back to the base.  Maybe I caught the last bus, or tool a Taxi.  I never saw her again after that.  Not that I didn't try.  I did call to say I was sorry, but she was never at home it seemed, or was just refusing my calls.  For days afterwards, whenever I saw a girl with long black hair, I would wonder if it were her, and it dawned on me just how much I missed her company, even though we had a relatively short time together.

- Simon Revere Mouer III