Did you know that 124 years ago today on May 8, 1886, the first Coca-Cola was served? So let's celebrate by opening an ice-cold Coca-Cola and sharing some happiness with others today.
When I was a junior at El Paso’s Coronado High School, General Electric transferred my father to Houston. A place he once vowed he would never live. Too damned hot & humid.
I was seventeen, beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin. Totally entrenched in the drama of high school in the seventies. I was a finalist for class favorite – quite an accomplishment for a skinny nerd attempting to traverse all the levels of society that make up high school. I was on student council (the House, not the Senate). One of my best friends was on the football team.
At the time, unknown to anyone, I was suffering from a severe thyroid disease. I lost weight, I lost my prowess as a math whiz, I seldom slept, I forgot my class schedule. I thought I was going mad, that I was losing my mind.
Keep in mind, this was the late sixties & early seventies. Many of my friends were experimenting with drugs. But they all put the word out that no one was to introduce anything to me: She is already flying.
My friends compensated for me. The two Susies in my life, Aronson & Borschow, moved into my locker. They helped keep track of my schedule. I remember so many times, feeling lost & someone leading me, whispering: It is time for English. This period is World History. Jaki, you are supposed to be in Chemistry in the next building.
I remember the times when no one was near & I was forced to go to the office & say: My name is Jaki Ettinger & I need a copy of my schedule. Looking back, no one in the office found it strange that I came time after time for my schedule. But it was the late sixties & early seventies.
Many mornings, I would awake long before dawn, climb over our rock fence and make my way across the desert, climb a hill, and watch the sun rise.
There is nothing as beautiful or as serene as sunrise or sunset in the mountains.
So, I was not happy about moving to a place I only remembered from vacations: hot, humid, flat, unprotected. Not to mention attending a high school named after a man I personally held responsible for the onset of the Vietnam War.
Or about moving to a school where no one was aware that I might be a bit off-balance.
My friends gave me a surprise going away party at Betsey Kerr’s house. My last day at school, I had a party in every class. That evening, I attended a dress rehearsal of Brigadoon. And my dearest nearest friends took me to Grigg’s – one of my favorite Mexican restaurants.
The next day, fortified by sandwiches provided by my friend Susie Aronson, I walked through our garage, looking at the moving boxes.
On every box marked for my room, I wrote: Jaki is Great.
When we finally moved into our house in what is now Meadows Place, Texas, Fort Bend County, bordering Houston, I found a note underneath one of my proclamations that I was great:
This is a declaration of a childish, immature, unimaginative mind.
The correct declaration should be:
Jaki is the greatest thing since Coca-Cola.
T
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