Categories > Cartoons > Daria > 1960's Daria
1960s—Chapter 07
By Dr T
What’s Normal?
-60s-
August 1
A very tired Daria entered her family home, trailing her father (who was carrying a very large suitcase). She was bursting with ideas – for her medieval novel, for a new novel based on her experiences, for poetry, but she was physically exhausted. Daria had a carry-on and her guitar case, and this was the second trip from the car for the two as they entered the kitchen via the garage door. Before her mother could greet her, Quinn popped her head into the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re back! And still wearing those ugly boots, washed-out jeans, and an ugly blouse.” After her glance at her returning sibling, Quinn sneered and added, “Did you come back diseased-ridden and pregnant, or just overrun by head and body lice?”
Jake was shocked and very angry – he was proud of the job his eldest had done in San Francisco, and so were his bosses, and Amy’s. While neither the network nor Time-Life had wound up using Daria’s work directly, both had used the information quite often in their coverage of the late spring and summer in very numerous ways.
Helen was also shocked. She had disapproved of this entire scheme and was not about to talk about her daughter’s adventures with her acquaintances. However, from what her husband had said, Daria had done an excellent job, had led to Jake’s having gotten a solid raise (and apparently the reports had also enhanced her younger sister Amy’s career as well), and most importantly had even gotten her as well as her husband invited to New York in September for some of the activities around the network’s ‘premier’ month. This was professional and even social gold for any affiliate executive below the very top two or three.
“For your information, I did not engage in any activities that could have made me pregnant or infected with any related disease, nor do I have any type of lice,” Daria retorted. “As for the boots, I had to wear them since I did not want to weigh down my luggage – they worked very well to prevent those activities.”
“Might know even you couldn’t find a partner even in a place that that!”
“Quinn!” their father snapped.
Daria gave Quinn a dirty look, but all she said was, “Excuse me. If you don’t mind, I need a shower after those flights.”
Quinn quivered at the glares her parents were giving her. She quickly broke. “What! You know those…those hippies are all filthy degenerates!”
“I am sure many, perhaps even most, are,” Helen agreed, perhaps too quickly. “However, your sister is not like that. And considering some of the outlandish clothes we’ve seen on those people, she’s not that badly dressed, despite the boots.”
“Your sister did an excellent job, something you should learn how to do,” Jake scolded. He was proud of his older daughter, and had the pay raise and acknowledgments to show why. “Yes, a real job might be just what you need.”
“What? A job!”
Helen looked at her husband, and considered. Finally, she mused, “I know you aren’t close to going steady with any boy, and might decide not go to MMJC. You might need a job while looking for the right man if you don’t go. Yes, I think you either find an afterschool job by the start of school – ten hours a week minimum, and I don’t mean a job like baby-sitting – or I find you something with one of my volunteer jobs.” She turned to her husband. “What do you think?”
“I agree. I think the volunteer work would be the last resort. No, I think we cut her allowance by five dollars the first week of September; she can make up the difference or earn more with the job she comes up with. If she doesn’t have the job by October, then she has to do the volunteer work. We may or may not restore the allowance if she fails to land a paying job, depending on how hard to tried to land and keep one.”
“That would work,” Helen agreed.
Quinn angrily stomped away.
-60s-
“Comments?” Daria asked her mother as she took her laundry out of the washer. Daria wouldn’t have wanted her mother to do her clothes, even if she had wanted to.
“I dislike these kinds of clothes, but most of these are at least well-made and fairly…I suppose somewhat tasteful if utilitarian.”
Daria’s wilder, skimpier, and outlandish clothes had been washed before leaving California, packed, and shipped to Jane’s.
Helen looked at her daughter as she sorted the clothes, some to hang to dry and some to place into the dryer. Her hair was even thicker and longer than it had ever been, but it was clean and the ends were trimmed. Another change was that Daria had had her ears pierced, but at least she was wearing a plain pair of white gold studs rather than anything outlandish. She was wearing a well-fitted peasant-like top, knee-length denim skirt, and a decent pair of Keds and socks.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Daria told her in a dry tone, “I will dress even more conventionally outside the house while I am in town.”
“Thank you,” Helen replied, a bit hesitatingly. “Daria…?”
“Yes?”
“Did…were you tempted not to come back?”
Daria paused her sorting and looked at her mother. “Overall, I did have a good time,” she admitted. “However, as the weeks went by, the scene deteriorated. It was nowhere near as fun or interesting in July as it was in late May and early June. I did not do any drugs” (‘other than plenty of second-hand pot’) “and that was becoming more and more common. Still, while I’m glad I experienced it, maybe even someday I’ll write a novel about it, but I didn’t want to stay there any longer.” She had in fact already jotted down an outline for that novel.
If Helen assumed that meant Daria was happy to be back at home, Daria did not disabuse her of the fantasy. Helen nodded, and left Daria to finish her laundry.
-60s-
August 3 (translated from Latin)
I can’t believe how boring this town is. Life in the Haight was hectic, and getting frightening towards the end, but it was alive! Mother has banished me to the garage to play, no matter how softly I do so. Quinn is outraged because her date last night asked, ‘what is that cool music?’ After all, more than a few of The Monkeys’ songs are a bit too ‘out there’ for her tastes. I think she’d be happy with early Beach Boys as the hardest music, with girl-group love ballads as the standard. If I have to hear ‘I think we’re alone now’ one more time…it’s okay but not eight times today!
I also miss my sleeping partner. I do not mostly mean the fun we had with our cylindrical friend or similar activities, I mean the cuddling. I miss her arms around me. I also miss the compliments on my playing, the smiles I received as I played and the smiles Jane received as she painted faces, especially the little girls’ faces of the tourists’ children.
For the first time, I understand why some people turned to certain drugs, to feel once more, when there are holes in their minds and souls; to loveless sex, when love is unavailable. Neither works, of course, which is what leads to the chase that becomes the psychological addiction (never mind the problems of physical addiction from some drugs), but I understand what the temptations are now.
-60s-
Although tempted, Daria did not just float through most of month. She made sure to spend half an hour each morning and late afternoon out walking, and also doing half an hour of the yoga-related exercises she had learned out West. She spent at least two hours playing the guitar to keep in practice, and some time on the violin to get back into some semblance of ability. Much of the rest of the day, she spent at the typewriter or writing in journals. Most of the typewriting was fleshing out her novel set in 14th century England and detailing the outline for her Haight novel, the journals more of her feelings as she shifted through her memories, with poetry making up much of the remainders of both.
-60s-
Friday, August 25
Daria packed up what was now officially ‘her’ Valiant (her father had sold her the title for a dollar) that afternoon; she would be spending the next week at Jane’s. As Jane and Trent helped her unpack her car, Trent asked, “Hey, Daria. You been keeping up your playing?”
“Well, down to about two hours a day; that’s all my Mother could stand.” She smirked. “Granted, that’s probably a hundred or more minutes than my sister could stand.”
“The Spiral has a gig tonight, two sets. You wanna play some between sets? If you like it, you can repeat Saturday night.”
After a momentary freeze, Daria said, “Why not; I should try it at least once.” She had played for crowds in the street, some of whom had given her money for it; she had jammed with professional musicians far above her level who had praised her ideas and helped her improve her actual playing. She would take off her glasses so she couldn’t see the crowd very well and try to ignore them if they were nasty. Since Trent and his band would be there, she at least knew she wouldn’t have things thrown at her. Or at least she hoped not.
60s
The club/bar held a crowd of perhaps 150 or so. After their last song of their first set, Trent spoke into the microphone. “We’ll be back for the second set in an hour. Rather than leaving the place silent, or at least as silent as this place gets….” There was some laughter from those still paying attention. “A friend of ours is going to play. She probably won’t sing, but she’s spent the summer out in San Francisco, and she has the photo evidence to prove she’s jammed with some great people out there. Her sound is acoustic, and sometimes mellow, so enjoy the strumming of Daria!”
To Trent’s surprise, Daria did sing some of her own tunes. All but the first song were Daria originals, even if nearly have were played but not sung. Her opening song was a cover, however:
“If you’re going
To San Francisco,
Be sure to wear
Some flowers in your hair….”*
As Daria sang, Jane, by prearrangement, actually placed flowers in her hair, followed by painting a sunflower on Daria’s right cheek and then a sun on her left.
The applause that had initially greeted her was minimal, but as Daria played, the amount of applause rose. She didn’t get a standing ovation, but she was given $5 and the promise of free fries and soda and another $5 if she would come back the next night – and the next Friday.
Daria agreed.
Jane had also made some money, doing face paintings. She’d come back those nights as well.
-60s-
’San Francisco’ by John Phillips, first recorded by Scott McKenzie,1967
-60s-
“You were a hit,” Jane told Daria afterwards.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I take it, since we’re going back, you didn’t hate it.”
“No,” Daria admitted, “I didn’t hate it.” She sat on Jane’s bed. “I’ve missed you.”
Jane smiled and sat as well. She put her arm over Daria’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’ve been lonely without you as well.”
The pair kissed lightly, and went to sleep, snuggled close.
-60s-
“Thank you, Mister Lane,” Daria said very sincerely the next morning.
Vincent smiled at his daughter and her friend. “Not a problem; you two both did excellent jobs, and some of the other photos are also pretty good. Now, which ones do you want as eight by tens, and which ones duplicated as five by sevens?”
Daria had the money to get whatever she wanted, but she was still somewhat frugal by nature (even if Mr. Lane was going these enlargements at cost, while he had allowed Jane to develop the many rolls of film at cost as well). The photo of her playing with Janis Joplin singing would be one 8x10, and the one with her jamming with a number of the Haight musicians, including Jerry Garcia, was a second. The best of the late June photos showing Daria and Jane busking was the third. These and seven more photos – three of Daria and Jane at various locations (including of course, them standing under the Haight and Ashbury street signs) and four of Daria (two at Monterey) – were duplicated as 2 sets of 5x7s, one for Daria and one set for her Aunt Amy. When Daria published her book on her Haight Ashbury experiences in 1992, it would be well illustrated – she would have over 300 excellent photos to choose from, as well as dozens of Jane’s sketches, and plenty of other memorabilia.
-60s-
The friends spent part of the week going through their wardrobes. If they took everything, they’d have closer to four times the clothes than three compared to the previous September. Granted, their wardrobes had been pretty sparce at the time, but both knew they had to cut things down at least a bit. Anything either of them considered ‘dowdy’ (which included a few of Daria’s previous year’s outfits and a few odds and ends of Jane’s) would be left behind. Except for what Daria would need for formal music performances, all their formal clothes would be left at the Lanes’. After all, it was at best dimly possible some such occasion might pop up on fairly short notice for Daria, but any other situation should give them plenty of time to retrieve their formalwear. Daria also insisted that they each have two ‘very nice’ outfits, just in case. Otherwise, nearly anything that fit both the terms ‘square’ and ‘uncomfortable’ was also left behind. After all, college-logo sweatshirts, especially from one’s own college, would be deemed at best eye-roll worthy by much of the Haight crowd, but they were warm and comfortable.
-60s-
Saturday September 2
Daria and Jane were both comfortable with their schedules and had arranged payments for the semester. They therefore had the choice of Saturday afternoon through Monday (Labor Day) to arrive. Tuesday would be the last day for schedule changes, payments, etc., and classes would start on that Wednesday.
Trent’s band had a split gig with another band that Saturday, so Daria wouldn’t be playing. The friends instead opted to show up at college mid-afternoon on the Saturday, although they would go back the next day for a few more of their things – the Valiant was not that large a car. Daria’s hair was now down to the base of her shoulder blades and was in two long braids, tied with bright green ribbons. She was in a worn denim skirt, paisley blouse, and the boots her aunt had sent her the previous Christmas. Jane’s hair was even longer and was in a single ponytail. She wore a matching paisley blouse and jeans, with a pair of moccasins. Daria wore a small pair of turquoise earrings and matching rings on each ring finger. Jane wore a pair of dangling peace sign earrings and a matching ring on her left ring finger, and a pair of turquoise studs, with a turquoise ring that matched Daria’s on her right ring finger.
About sixty percent of the coeds were dressed much like they had been the previous autumn, although most had forgone hairstyles that required a lot of hairspray. None were in totally full-out ‘hippie-wear’—but about twenty percent were about as dressed along those lines as Daria and Jane. The remainder was somewhere between those two extremes.
-60s-
Except of a letter
Dear Aunt Amy:
Well, here is my third ‘start of the semester’ letter. First of all, you are very welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed the photos, and thank you again for getting me the financing (and convincing Dad to do the same) so we could go!
We start in with our formal education requirements this semester. Intro to Education only counts for 2 credits, but meets 8:00-8:50 three days a week! Yech. It’s followed by Ed Pysch at 9:00, which looks to be equally boring but at least counts the full 3 credits.
My English classes are Shakespeare (required) and the Modern Novel (it should be entitled ‘modern British Novels’). We start with the Bloomsbury group. I think I’ll regret this course, but it was that or Anglo-Saxon. Hopefully Shakespeare won’t be boring (we will be reading six plays in class, hopefully the others are better readers/actors than I am).
The two history courses are Colonial US (required) and 19th Century Europe. I really wanted to take medieval history, but it was scheduled for the same time as Shakespeare. Maybe next year. The Colonial professor looks like he would have made a good Puritan (well, a good representation of a stern one, in any event), while the 19th century prof sounds like a stereotypical Prussian officer.
Thank you for the various articles my reports were used for….
A pair of influential seniors had caught Daria’s performances between the Spiral’s sets before classes had started, and so Daria was convinced to join a new campus activity, starting the second week of classes. Thursday evenings, she and four other musical acts would play in the ‘common area’ of the dorms in rotation between 7:00-8:00.
Despite how busy she was, especially compared to the previous fall, Daria felt towards the end of the month that she needed someone knowledgeable and objective to look over what she had for her novel. Marcus Church, who had taught the English history course she had taken the previous semester, was her choice.
It took her a weekend to steel herself, but she had looked at his office door and saw he had office hours from 1:00-2:00, and she knew from the previous semester that he was usually in his office throughout the afternoons. It took her steeling herself because she had had a slight crush on the young professor, and knew she probably still did.
Church’s door was ajar when Daria arrived a little after 1:30, and after a moment’s hesitation she knocked, and was invited in. Church’s office was in the basement of the building, and large for an office – he had mentioned in class that he had this room because it was larger than any other offered, even if it was in the basement in a slightly out of the way place (next to the vending machines on one side and a small freight elevator).
Daria took a breath and entered, and blushed slightly when Church smiled at her. He was a young professor, and Daria at least thought he was very attractive.
Church looked up when the student entered his office. He smiled when he saw who it was. Daria had shown herself the previous year to be even smarter than she was attractive, and he thought her very attractive. “Miss Morgendorffer! Nice to see you again. Have a seat, and tell me what I can do for you today.” He noticed that Daria’s skirt was a bit shorter than what she had worn the year before, and that her light jacket was fully open to show the blouse she was wearing was rather form-fitting.
Daria sat and explained what she was doing and what she hoped Church would help her with.
“Sure, I presume that’s what in your shoulder bag making it so heavy?” He also noticed she had glanced around his office, looking at the few photos she could see, and had looked at his left hand a few times as well. Her manner was not quite flirtatious (unlike a number of his colleagues, he had always rejected the few flirtatious and near-flirtatious students he had encountered over his years, originally as a graduate assistant and now as an instructor – for the first time, he was interested). So, he swiveled his chair and gestured so she would come around the desk instead of trying to hand everything over it. It allowed her to see that the only photo on his desk was one of him in front of Westminster Abbey.
“Come back any time after Wednesday,” he told her after he took the material. “I am curious, however, why you aren’t in my medieval class.”
Daria made a slight face. “It’s at the same time as Shakespeare, and that’s required.”
“That’s too bad; I would love to have you in class again.”
Daria blushed slightly at the smile that went with that remark, encouraging Church. However, although interested, he was cautious, and was hardly a predator (at least by the standards of the time). “No, really,” he repeated. “You were by far the best student I’ve had in the four years I’ve been here. You would have fit in well at any university.” He was being honest there; he was interested but was not about to go beyond the truth. “Any time you want to stop by, please do so.”
Daria’s blush continued, but she managed to say, “Thank you.” She smiled, and bravely added, “I think I will.” The Daria of the previous year would have been blushing more, and convincing herself that she was reading too much into things, and would have been unable to respond. This new Daria knew that Church was actually flirting with her, just as she had deliberately worn this skirt and blouse to see if it would elicit a response she liked.
She decided it had.
-60s-
Daria stopped in Church’s office that Thursday on the way to the 19th Century US class. Assured he would still be there after the class period ended, Daria sat in the restroom for nearly 10 minutes after the class ended at 3:15 before she got up her courage and made her way down to the basement. She knew what she both feared and hoped for (beyond hopefully positive feedback on her novel); and Jane had picked up on this, teasing her gently. As Jane herself was just starting to see someone in her ceramics class, Daria at least knew there should be no jealousy if things worked out for each of them.
Invited in again, Daria noted that while there had been two chairs in front of Church’s desk before, one was now on the left side of his desk. She hesitated after she entered; the door had been mostly closed…she decided to nearly close the door, leaving the door touching the frame but not actually closed. She took that chair by his desk as invited, and Church laid out her outlines in one pile and the many mostly-finished chapters and the very rough draft for the rest of the novel in another.
“First of all, let me say that I’m not a huge fan of most romance novels, and that is what this essentially is; that is, the plot concerns a love story but there is a lot more to it.”
“True,” Daria had to agree.
“Still, this seems interesting, and these chapters, despite needing some minor editing, seem to me to be promising, but again, I’m probably not the best person to judge that.” Daria nodded. “As for the notes you have on the period and the back story and of course the background material you’ve already written – if this were an assignment for my class, it would be an A plus. I could not find one thing off, never mind find anything wrong.” Again, he was being honest, and he was surprised – he had suspected it would be good, but not quite this good. He handed her a slip of paper with three titles. “See if the library can get you these, though. For chapter nine, you might want a little more detail on the role of the sheriffs and their enforcement roles. That third book has some different translations of songs from the period you might want to use.”
“Thank you.”
“Either move the chair a little closer, or stand closer, and let me show you a few places in those chapters where you might want to consider some minor changes.”
Daria decided to stand. As they went over her chapters, Daria unconsciously bent over ever closer, until her right shoulder was leaning on his left. When they finished, Daria straightened up and thanked him; he had really been helpful.
Church decided to push a little when he saw her repeat a glance yet again. “You can keep looking at my left hand, but since I’m not married, and in fact am currently totally unattached, nothing should appear there.”
Daria now went beyond being embarrassed, blushing very deeply.
“I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt, but I’ve never really been in this position. However, if you’re interested in discussing things, go shut the door. If I’ve offended you, I’m sorry, and I won’t mention it again, if you ever come back.” He smiled warmly. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”
Daria hesitated for nearly a minute, although it felt longer to both of them, and then quickly moved over and shut the door. She came back to the desk and hesitated. Church gestured at the chair at the side of his desk, and Daria sat there.
After nearly a minute, Church smiled slightly and admitted, “I must say, this is rather more awkward than I ever anticipated.”
Daria nervously returned the slight smile. “I agree. However, it does help convince me that you’re both sincere and perhaps almost as inexperienced at this as I am.”
“Okay, let me start of by saying if we do…become involved in any non-academic way, I hope you wouldn’t take any more of my courses; it would certainly be a conflict of interest.”
“I can see that….”
Church smiled a bit more. “When we’re together, my name is Marcus or Mark, Miss Morgendorffer.”
“Daria, please…Marcus.” Church was about to say something, but stopped when he saw Daria had more to say. “I’ve never…well…never had a serious or any kind of physical relationship with a guy.”
“No pressure,” he assured her. “However, even though, since you’re not my student there is no rule against our seeing each other, it really wouldn’t help either of our reputations to be overly open on campus.” He involuntarily leaned forward slightly. “Still interested?”
“Yes,” Daria simply admitted, her usually low voice pitched nigher than usual. She swallowed and managed to smile a bit more genuinely.
“May I offer you dinner Friday or Saturday night, or even lunch on Saturday or Sunday? So we might get to know each other a bit more?”
“Dinner tomorrow night where?”
“My place…I promise….”
“I know, I trust you.” Daria looked him directly in the eye. “I have orchestra practice until five.”
“I’ll be here, up until six.” Daria understood he was allowing her to change her mind, so she nodded. “Are you Catholic? Or any food allergies or preferences?”
“No, my mother is a horrible cook, and I’m sure you’re better than cafeteria food at least. Of course there’s always pizza.”
“Very true.” Marcus stood, and Daria did the same. She was uncertain what might happen, but was surprised when he extended his hand. Daira went to shake it, but instead he took her hand and kissed the back of her hand and then her knuckles, and the lower backs of her fingers before smiling at her.
Daria smiled back. “See you tomorrow…Mark.”
“Until tomorrow evening, Daria.”
By Dr T
What’s Normal?
-60s-
August 1
A very tired Daria entered her family home, trailing her father (who was carrying a very large suitcase). She was bursting with ideas – for her medieval novel, for a new novel based on her experiences, for poetry, but she was physically exhausted. Daria had a carry-on and her guitar case, and this was the second trip from the car for the two as they entered the kitchen via the garage door. Before her mother could greet her, Quinn popped her head into the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re back! And still wearing those ugly boots, washed-out jeans, and an ugly blouse.” After her glance at her returning sibling, Quinn sneered and added, “Did you come back diseased-ridden and pregnant, or just overrun by head and body lice?”
Jake was shocked and very angry – he was proud of the job his eldest had done in San Francisco, and so were his bosses, and Amy’s. While neither the network nor Time-Life had wound up using Daria’s work directly, both had used the information quite often in their coverage of the late spring and summer in very numerous ways.
Helen was also shocked. She had disapproved of this entire scheme and was not about to talk about her daughter’s adventures with her acquaintances. However, from what her husband had said, Daria had done an excellent job, had led to Jake’s having gotten a solid raise (and apparently the reports had also enhanced her younger sister Amy’s career as well), and most importantly had even gotten her as well as her husband invited to New York in September for some of the activities around the network’s ‘premier’ month. This was professional and even social gold for any affiliate executive below the very top two or three.
“For your information, I did not engage in any activities that could have made me pregnant or infected with any related disease, nor do I have any type of lice,” Daria retorted. “As for the boots, I had to wear them since I did not want to weigh down my luggage – they worked very well to prevent those activities.”
“Might know even you couldn’t find a partner even in a place that that!”
“Quinn!” their father snapped.
Daria gave Quinn a dirty look, but all she said was, “Excuse me. If you don’t mind, I need a shower after those flights.”
Quinn quivered at the glares her parents were giving her. She quickly broke. “What! You know those…those hippies are all filthy degenerates!”
“I am sure many, perhaps even most, are,” Helen agreed, perhaps too quickly. “However, your sister is not like that. And considering some of the outlandish clothes we’ve seen on those people, she’s not that badly dressed, despite the boots.”
“Your sister did an excellent job, something you should learn how to do,” Jake scolded. He was proud of his older daughter, and had the pay raise and acknowledgments to show why. “Yes, a real job might be just what you need.”
“What? A job!”
Helen looked at her husband, and considered. Finally, she mused, “I know you aren’t close to going steady with any boy, and might decide not go to MMJC. You might need a job while looking for the right man if you don’t go. Yes, I think you either find an afterschool job by the start of school – ten hours a week minimum, and I don’t mean a job like baby-sitting – or I find you something with one of my volunteer jobs.” She turned to her husband. “What do you think?”
“I agree. I think the volunteer work would be the last resort. No, I think we cut her allowance by five dollars the first week of September; she can make up the difference or earn more with the job she comes up with. If she doesn’t have the job by October, then she has to do the volunteer work. We may or may not restore the allowance if she fails to land a paying job, depending on how hard to tried to land and keep one.”
“That would work,” Helen agreed.
Quinn angrily stomped away.
-60s-
“Comments?” Daria asked her mother as she took her laundry out of the washer. Daria wouldn’t have wanted her mother to do her clothes, even if she had wanted to.
“I dislike these kinds of clothes, but most of these are at least well-made and fairly…I suppose somewhat tasteful if utilitarian.”
Daria’s wilder, skimpier, and outlandish clothes had been washed before leaving California, packed, and shipped to Jane’s.
Helen looked at her daughter as she sorted the clothes, some to hang to dry and some to place into the dryer. Her hair was even thicker and longer than it had ever been, but it was clean and the ends were trimmed. Another change was that Daria had had her ears pierced, but at least she was wearing a plain pair of white gold studs rather than anything outlandish. She was wearing a well-fitted peasant-like top, knee-length denim skirt, and a decent pair of Keds and socks.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Daria told her in a dry tone, “I will dress even more conventionally outside the house while I am in town.”
“Thank you,” Helen replied, a bit hesitatingly. “Daria…?”
“Yes?”
“Did…were you tempted not to come back?”
Daria paused her sorting and looked at her mother. “Overall, I did have a good time,” she admitted. “However, as the weeks went by, the scene deteriorated. It was nowhere near as fun or interesting in July as it was in late May and early June. I did not do any drugs” (‘other than plenty of second-hand pot’) “and that was becoming more and more common. Still, while I’m glad I experienced it, maybe even someday I’ll write a novel about it, but I didn’t want to stay there any longer.” She had in fact already jotted down an outline for that novel.
If Helen assumed that meant Daria was happy to be back at home, Daria did not disabuse her of the fantasy. Helen nodded, and left Daria to finish her laundry.
-60s-
August 3 (translated from Latin)
I can’t believe how boring this town is. Life in the Haight was hectic, and getting frightening towards the end, but it was alive! Mother has banished me to the garage to play, no matter how softly I do so. Quinn is outraged because her date last night asked, ‘what is that cool music?’ After all, more than a few of The Monkeys’ songs are a bit too ‘out there’ for her tastes. I think she’d be happy with early Beach Boys as the hardest music, with girl-group love ballads as the standard. If I have to hear ‘I think we’re alone now’ one more time…it’s okay but not eight times today!
I also miss my sleeping partner. I do not mostly mean the fun we had with our cylindrical friend or similar activities, I mean the cuddling. I miss her arms around me. I also miss the compliments on my playing, the smiles I received as I played and the smiles Jane received as she painted faces, especially the little girls’ faces of the tourists’ children.
For the first time, I understand why some people turned to certain drugs, to feel once more, when there are holes in their minds and souls; to loveless sex, when love is unavailable. Neither works, of course, which is what leads to the chase that becomes the psychological addiction (never mind the problems of physical addiction from some drugs), but I understand what the temptations are now.
-60s-
Although tempted, Daria did not just float through most of month. She made sure to spend half an hour each morning and late afternoon out walking, and also doing half an hour of the yoga-related exercises she had learned out West. She spent at least two hours playing the guitar to keep in practice, and some time on the violin to get back into some semblance of ability. Much of the rest of the day, she spent at the typewriter or writing in journals. Most of the typewriting was fleshing out her novel set in 14th century England and detailing the outline for her Haight novel, the journals more of her feelings as she shifted through her memories, with poetry making up much of the remainders of both.
-60s-
Friday, August 25
Daria packed up what was now officially ‘her’ Valiant (her father had sold her the title for a dollar) that afternoon; she would be spending the next week at Jane’s. As Jane and Trent helped her unpack her car, Trent asked, “Hey, Daria. You been keeping up your playing?”
“Well, down to about two hours a day; that’s all my Mother could stand.” She smirked. “Granted, that’s probably a hundred or more minutes than my sister could stand.”
“The Spiral has a gig tonight, two sets. You wanna play some between sets? If you like it, you can repeat Saturday night.”
After a momentary freeze, Daria said, “Why not; I should try it at least once.” She had played for crowds in the street, some of whom had given her money for it; she had jammed with professional musicians far above her level who had praised her ideas and helped her improve her actual playing. She would take off her glasses so she couldn’t see the crowd very well and try to ignore them if they were nasty. Since Trent and his band would be there, she at least knew she wouldn’t have things thrown at her. Or at least she hoped not.
60s
The club/bar held a crowd of perhaps 150 or so. After their last song of their first set, Trent spoke into the microphone. “We’ll be back for the second set in an hour. Rather than leaving the place silent, or at least as silent as this place gets….” There was some laughter from those still paying attention. “A friend of ours is going to play. She probably won’t sing, but she’s spent the summer out in San Francisco, and she has the photo evidence to prove she’s jammed with some great people out there. Her sound is acoustic, and sometimes mellow, so enjoy the strumming of Daria!”
To Trent’s surprise, Daria did sing some of her own tunes. All but the first song were Daria originals, even if nearly have were played but not sung. Her opening song was a cover, however:
“If you’re going
To San Francisco,
Be sure to wear
Some flowers in your hair….”*
As Daria sang, Jane, by prearrangement, actually placed flowers in her hair, followed by painting a sunflower on Daria’s right cheek and then a sun on her left.
The applause that had initially greeted her was minimal, but as Daria played, the amount of applause rose. She didn’t get a standing ovation, but she was given $5 and the promise of free fries and soda and another $5 if she would come back the next night – and the next Friday.
Daria agreed.
Jane had also made some money, doing face paintings. She’d come back those nights as well.
-60s-
’San Francisco’ by John Phillips, first recorded by Scott McKenzie,1967
-60s-
“You were a hit,” Jane told Daria afterwards.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I take it, since we’re going back, you didn’t hate it.”
“No,” Daria admitted, “I didn’t hate it.” She sat on Jane’s bed. “I’ve missed you.”
Jane smiled and sat as well. She put her arm over Daria’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’ve been lonely without you as well.”
The pair kissed lightly, and went to sleep, snuggled close.
-60s-
“Thank you, Mister Lane,” Daria said very sincerely the next morning.
Vincent smiled at his daughter and her friend. “Not a problem; you two both did excellent jobs, and some of the other photos are also pretty good. Now, which ones do you want as eight by tens, and which ones duplicated as five by sevens?”
Daria had the money to get whatever she wanted, but she was still somewhat frugal by nature (even if Mr. Lane was going these enlargements at cost, while he had allowed Jane to develop the many rolls of film at cost as well). The photo of her playing with Janis Joplin singing would be one 8x10, and the one with her jamming with a number of the Haight musicians, including Jerry Garcia, was a second. The best of the late June photos showing Daria and Jane busking was the third. These and seven more photos – three of Daria and Jane at various locations (including of course, them standing under the Haight and Ashbury street signs) and four of Daria (two at Monterey) – were duplicated as 2 sets of 5x7s, one for Daria and one set for her Aunt Amy. When Daria published her book on her Haight Ashbury experiences in 1992, it would be well illustrated – she would have over 300 excellent photos to choose from, as well as dozens of Jane’s sketches, and plenty of other memorabilia.
-60s-
The friends spent part of the week going through their wardrobes. If they took everything, they’d have closer to four times the clothes than three compared to the previous September. Granted, their wardrobes had been pretty sparce at the time, but both knew they had to cut things down at least a bit. Anything either of them considered ‘dowdy’ (which included a few of Daria’s previous year’s outfits and a few odds and ends of Jane’s) would be left behind. Except for what Daria would need for formal music performances, all their formal clothes would be left at the Lanes’. After all, it was at best dimly possible some such occasion might pop up on fairly short notice for Daria, but any other situation should give them plenty of time to retrieve their formalwear. Daria also insisted that they each have two ‘very nice’ outfits, just in case. Otherwise, nearly anything that fit both the terms ‘square’ and ‘uncomfortable’ was also left behind. After all, college-logo sweatshirts, especially from one’s own college, would be deemed at best eye-roll worthy by much of the Haight crowd, but they were warm and comfortable.
-60s-
Saturday September 2
Daria and Jane were both comfortable with their schedules and had arranged payments for the semester. They therefore had the choice of Saturday afternoon through Monday (Labor Day) to arrive. Tuesday would be the last day for schedule changes, payments, etc., and classes would start on that Wednesday.
Trent’s band had a split gig with another band that Saturday, so Daria wouldn’t be playing. The friends instead opted to show up at college mid-afternoon on the Saturday, although they would go back the next day for a few more of their things – the Valiant was not that large a car. Daria’s hair was now down to the base of her shoulder blades and was in two long braids, tied with bright green ribbons. She was in a worn denim skirt, paisley blouse, and the boots her aunt had sent her the previous Christmas. Jane’s hair was even longer and was in a single ponytail. She wore a matching paisley blouse and jeans, with a pair of moccasins. Daria wore a small pair of turquoise earrings and matching rings on each ring finger. Jane wore a pair of dangling peace sign earrings and a matching ring on her left ring finger, and a pair of turquoise studs, with a turquoise ring that matched Daria’s on her right ring finger.
About sixty percent of the coeds were dressed much like they had been the previous autumn, although most had forgone hairstyles that required a lot of hairspray. None were in totally full-out ‘hippie-wear’—but about twenty percent were about as dressed along those lines as Daria and Jane. The remainder was somewhere between those two extremes.
-60s-
Except of a letter
Dear Aunt Amy:
Well, here is my third ‘start of the semester’ letter. First of all, you are very welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed the photos, and thank you again for getting me the financing (and convincing Dad to do the same) so we could go!
We start in with our formal education requirements this semester. Intro to Education only counts for 2 credits, but meets 8:00-8:50 three days a week! Yech. It’s followed by Ed Pysch at 9:00, which looks to be equally boring but at least counts the full 3 credits.
My English classes are Shakespeare (required) and the Modern Novel (it should be entitled ‘modern British Novels’). We start with the Bloomsbury group. I think I’ll regret this course, but it was that or Anglo-Saxon. Hopefully Shakespeare won’t be boring (we will be reading six plays in class, hopefully the others are better readers/actors than I am).
The two history courses are Colonial US (required) and 19th Century Europe. I really wanted to take medieval history, but it was scheduled for the same time as Shakespeare. Maybe next year. The Colonial professor looks like he would have made a good Puritan (well, a good representation of a stern one, in any event), while the 19th century prof sounds like a stereotypical Prussian officer.
Thank you for the various articles my reports were used for….
A pair of influential seniors had caught Daria’s performances between the Spiral’s sets before classes had started, and so Daria was convinced to join a new campus activity, starting the second week of classes. Thursday evenings, she and four other musical acts would play in the ‘common area’ of the dorms in rotation between 7:00-8:00.
Despite how busy she was, especially compared to the previous fall, Daria felt towards the end of the month that she needed someone knowledgeable and objective to look over what she had for her novel. Marcus Church, who had taught the English history course she had taken the previous semester, was her choice.
It took her a weekend to steel herself, but she had looked at his office door and saw he had office hours from 1:00-2:00, and she knew from the previous semester that he was usually in his office throughout the afternoons. It took her steeling herself because she had had a slight crush on the young professor, and knew she probably still did.
Church’s door was ajar when Daria arrived a little after 1:30, and after a moment’s hesitation she knocked, and was invited in. Church’s office was in the basement of the building, and large for an office – he had mentioned in class that he had this room because it was larger than any other offered, even if it was in the basement in a slightly out of the way place (next to the vending machines on one side and a small freight elevator).
Daria took a breath and entered, and blushed slightly when Church smiled at her. He was a young professor, and Daria at least thought he was very attractive.
Church looked up when the student entered his office. He smiled when he saw who it was. Daria had shown herself the previous year to be even smarter than she was attractive, and he thought her very attractive. “Miss Morgendorffer! Nice to see you again. Have a seat, and tell me what I can do for you today.” He noticed that Daria’s skirt was a bit shorter than what she had worn the year before, and that her light jacket was fully open to show the blouse she was wearing was rather form-fitting.
Daria sat and explained what she was doing and what she hoped Church would help her with.
“Sure, I presume that’s what in your shoulder bag making it so heavy?” He also noticed she had glanced around his office, looking at the few photos she could see, and had looked at his left hand a few times as well. Her manner was not quite flirtatious (unlike a number of his colleagues, he had always rejected the few flirtatious and near-flirtatious students he had encountered over his years, originally as a graduate assistant and now as an instructor – for the first time, he was interested). So, he swiveled his chair and gestured so she would come around the desk instead of trying to hand everything over it. It allowed her to see that the only photo on his desk was one of him in front of Westminster Abbey.
“Come back any time after Wednesday,” he told her after he took the material. “I am curious, however, why you aren’t in my medieval class.”
Daria made a slight face. “It’s at the same time as Shakespeare, and that’s required.”
“That’s too bad; I would love to have you in class again.”
Daria blushed slightly at the smile that went with that remark, encouraging Church. However, although interested, he was cautious, and was hardly a predator (at least by the standards of the time). “No, really,” he repeated. “You were by far the best student I’ve had in the four years I’ve been here. You would have fit in well at any university.” He was being honest there; he was interested but was not about to go beyond the truth. “Any time you want to stop by, please do so.”
Daria’s blush continued, but she managed to say, “Thank you.” She smiled, and bravely added, “I think I will.” The Daria of the previous year would have been blushing more, and convincing herself that she was reading too much into things, and would have been unable to respond. This new Daria knew that Church was actually flirting with her, just as she had deliberately worn this skirt and blouse to see if it would elicit a response she liked.
She decided it had.
-60s-
Daria stopped in Church’s office that Thursday on the way to the 19th Century US class. Assured he would still be there after the class period ended, Daria sat in the restroom for nearly 10 minutes after the class ended at 3:15 before she got up her courage and made her way down to the basement. She knew what she both feared and hoped for (beyond hopefully positive feedback on her novel); and Jane had picked up on this, teasing her gently. As Jane herself was just starting to see someone in her ceramics class, Daria at least knew there should be no jealousy if things worked out for each of them.
Invited in again, Daria noted that while there had been two chairs in front of Church’s desk before, one was now on the left side of his desk. She hesitated after she entered; the door had been mostly closed…she decided to nearly close the door, leaving the door touching the frame but not actually closed. She took that chair by his desk as invited, and Church laid out her outlines in one pile and the many mostly-finished chapters and the very rough draft for the rest of the novel in another.
“First of all, let me say that I’m not a huge fan of most romance novels, and that is what this essentially is; that is, the plot concerns a love story but there is a lot more to it.”
“True,” Daria had to agree.
“Still, this seems interesting, and these chapters, despite needing some minor editing, seem to me to be promising, but again, I’m probably not the best person to judge that.” Daria nodded. “As for the notes you have on the period and the back story and of course the background material you’ve already written – if this were an assignment for my class, it would be an A plus. I could not find one thing off, never mind find anything wrong.” Again, he was being honest, and he was surprised – he had suspected it would be good, but not quite this good. He handed her a slip of paper with three titles. “See if the library can get you these, though. For chapter nine, you might want a little more detail on the role of the sheriffs and their enforcement roles. That third book has some different translations of songs from the period you might want to use.”
“Thank you.”
“Either move the chair a little closer, or stand closer, and let me show you a few places in those chapters where you might want to consider some minor changes.”
Daria decided to stand. As they went over her chapters, Daria unconsciously bent over ever closer, until her right shoulder was leaning on his left. When they finished, Daria straightened up and thanked him; he had really been helpful.
Church decided to push a little when he saw her repeat a glance yet again. “You can keep looking at my left hand, but since I’m not married, and in fact am currently totally unattached, nothing should appear there.”
Daria now went beyond being embarrassed, blushing very deeply.
“I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt, but I’ve never really been in this position. However, if you’re interested in discussing things, go shut the door. If I’ve offended you, I’m sorry, and I won’t mention it again, if you ever come back.” He smiled warmly. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”
Daria hesitated for nearly a minute, although it felt longer to both of them, and then quickly moved over and shut the door. She came back to the desk and hesitated. Church gestured at the chair at the side of his desk, and Daria sat there.
After nearly a minute, Church smiled slightly and admitted, “I must say, this is rather more awkward than I ever anticipated.”
Daria nervously returned the slight smile. “I agree. However, it does help convince me that you’re both sincere and perhaps almost as inexperienced at this as I am.”
“Okay, let me start of by saying if we do…become involved in any non-academic way, I hope you wouldn’t take any more of my courses; it would certainly be a conflict of interest.”
“I can see that….”
Church smiled a bit more. “When we’re together, my name is Marcus or Mark, Miss Morgendorffer.”
“Daria, please…Marcus.” Church was about to say something, but stopped when he saw Daria had more to say. “I’ve never…well…never had a serious or any kind of physical relationship with a guy.”
“No pressure,” he assured her. “However, even though, since you’re not my student there is no rule against our seeing each other, it really wouldn’t help either of our reputations to be overly open on campus.” He involuntarily leaned forward slightly. “Still interested?”
“Yes,” Daria simply admitted, her usually low voice pitched nigher than usual. She swallowed and managed to smile a bit more genuinely.
“May I offer you dinner Friday or Saturday night, or even lunch on Saturday or Sunday? So we might get to know each other a bit more?”
“Dinner tomorrow night where?”
“My place…I promise….”
“I know, I trust you.” Daria looked him directly in the eye. “I have orchestra practice until five.”
“I’ll be here, up until six.” Daria understood he was allowing her to change her mind, so she nodded. “Are you Catholic? Or any food allergies or preferences?”
“No, my mother is a horrible cook, and I’m sure you’re better than cafeteria food at least. Of course there’s always pizza.”
“Very true.” Marcus stood, and Daria did the same. She was uncertain what might happen, but was surprised when he extended his hand. Daira went to shake it, but instead he took her hand and kissed the back of her hand and then her knuckles, and the lower backs of her fingers before smiling at her.
Daria smiled back. “See you tomorrow…Mark.”
“Until tomorrow evening, Daria.”
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