Steve Del Masso
Back then, we called it Jr. High - the school years of 7th through 9th grade. Jr. High was not at all like elementary school. For the first time, we had a different teacher for each subject, in a different classroom. We had lockers with combinations we had to memorize, and gym class, in which we had to undress, shower, then dress again, with no privacy. We also had one hour each morning called "homeroom."
Homeroom was the class period in which we were informed of the day's announcements. I don't remember much about homeroom except that we were assigned to this class alphabetically, by last name.
My best friend, Jan Davies, who had also attended elementary school with me, landed in the same homeroom class with me. So did a lanky, sandy-haired boy with piercing blue eyes named Steve Del Masso. I'm not sure if we shared a homeroom class all three years. But I'm certain I fell in love with him the first time I looked into those blue eyes.
My memories of Steve are, admittedly, vague. It was a long time ago, after all. Pictures help to bring back the images of our young love. He used one I posted on my Facebook page many years later as his profile picture. It's of the two of us standing on the school ground the last day of 9th grade. In it I am wearing my middy, an atrocious white sailor style blouse with a black tie around the collar. According to tradition, 9th grade girls wore them to school on Fridays. I don't know how this tradition got started, but I do remember feeling proud to be among the privileged few permitted to wear this hideous garment. Steve is wearing a navy double-breasted jacket and matching tie. I'm pretty sure he wore that on every dress-up date we had. We have an arm around each other's waist. His expression resembles that unmistakable deer-in-the-headlights look. Judging by my ear-to-ear grin, I was over the moon.
I don't remember much about the day's activities, except that the teachers had organized all sorts of silly games for the 9th graders to play on the lawn. We all competed against each other in a sack race, hopping along to the finish line inside burlap sacks we held up to our waists.
My most vivid memory of that day is when we were paired off to run the three-legged race. For this race, two students each put one leg in the sack, held each other around the waist for balance, then raced together against other pairs. Steve and I were partnered. I could hardly contain my excitement at being permitted to be that close to Steve.
We also attended a couple of Job's Daughters dances. I have a picture of us pressed up against each other dancing to a slow song. I'm sure he wore the same jacket and tie. I don't remember noticing that then, and if I did, I didn't care. I was with Steve Del Masso. That was all that mattered.
We dated a few more times in high school, and the following summer, when he got his driver's license and pickup truck. I remember one double-date to the drive-in. It was the summer of 1970, and the movie was "Mash." The four of us climbed into the bed of his truck, and bundled up under sleeping bags to stay warm in the cool, Bay Area night air. He pulled out a can of Coke, poured something into it, then handed it to me. Rum & Coke, he told me. I remember liking the taste of the sweet drink. I also remember feeling a little dangerous and daring drinking liquor for the first time.
We lost touch after high school. I remember seeing him at our 10-year reunion with his wife. I don't even think we spoke. Divorced by then, I probably saw no point in wasting my time with a married guy, when there were plenty of single ones to chat up.
39 years after our high school graduation, and my first rum & coke in the bed of his pickup, Steve's name appeared on my Facebook page. All my Jr. High emotions came flooding back. I couldn't get the pictures of us together posted quickly enough! I sent him a message confessing my school girl crush. We exchanged a few more communications, then agreed to meet for old time sake.
He remembered two double dates in his pickup. I teased him that, thanks to him, I never did see "Mash" all the way through. As we caught each other up on our lives, I was surprised at how little I knew about him back in our school days. Remarkably, he was a straight A student through high school, was president of Phi House, played tuba in the band, and won a music scholarship.
Years later, he took over his dad's produce distribution business, and built it into a highly successful enterprise. He introduced me to his dad when I visited the shop one day.
"Dad, remember when you took me to the store to buy that blue jacket in 7th grade?"
Mr. Del Masso nodded.
"It was for me to wear on a date with Camille," Steve said with a smile.
Back then, we called it Jr. High - the school years of 7th through 9th grade. Jr. High was not at all like elementary school. For the first time, we had a different teacher for each subject, in a different classroom. We had lockers with combinations we had to memorize, and gym class, in which we had to undress, shower, then dress again, with no privacy. We also had one hour each morning called "homeroom."
Homeroom was the class period in which we were informed of the day's announcements. I don't remember much about homeroom except that we were assigned to this class alphabetically, by last name.
My best friend, Jan Davies, who had also attended elementary school with me, landed in the same homeroom class with me. So did a lanky, sandy-haired boy with piercing blue eyes named Steve Del Masso. I'm not sure if we shared a homeroom class all three years. But I'm certain I fell in love with him the first time I looked into those blue eyes.
My memories of Steve are, admittedly, vague. It was a long time ago, after all. Pictures help to bring back the images of our young love. He used one I posted on my Facebook page many years later as his profile picture. It's of the two of us standing on the school ground the last day of 9th grade. In it I am wearing my middy, an atrocious white sailor style blouse with a black tie around the collar. According to tradition, 9th grade girls wore them to school on Fridays. I don't know how this tradition got started, but I do remember feeling proud to be among the privileged few permitted to wear this hideous garment. Steve is wearing a navy double-breasted jacket and matching tie. I'm pretty sure he wore that on every dress-up date we had. We have an arm around each other's waist. His expression resembles that unmistakable deer-in-the-headlights look. Judging by my ear-to-ear grin, I was over the moon.
I don't remember much about the day's activities, except that the teachers had organized all sorts of silly games for the 9th graders to play on the lawn. We all competed against each other in a sack race, hopping along to the finish line inside burlap sacks we held up to our waists.
My most vivid memory of that day is when we were paired off to run the three-legged race. For this race, two students each put one leg in the sack, held each other around the waist for balance, then raced together against other pairs. Steve and I were partnered. I could hardly contain my excitement at being permitted to be that close to Steve.
We also attended a couple of Job's Daughters dances. I have a picture of us pressed up against each other dancing to a slow song. I'm sure he wore the same jacket and tie. I don't remember noticing that then, and if I did, I didn't care. I was with Steve Del Masso. That was all that mattered.
We dated a few more times in high school, and the following summer, when he got his driver's license and pickup truck. I remember one double-date to the drive-in. It was the summer of 1970, and the movie was "Mash." The four of us climbed into the bed of his truck, and bundled up under sleeping bags to stay warm in the cool, Bay Area night air. He pulled out a can of Coke, poured something into it, then handed it to me. Rum & Coke, he told me. I remember liking the taste of the sweet drink. I also remember feeling a little dangerous and daring drinking liquor for the first time.
We lost touch after high school. I remember seeing him at our 10-year reunion with his wife. I don't even think we spoke. Divorced by then, I probably saw no point in wasting my time with a married guy, when there were plenty of single ones to chat up.
39 years after our high school graduation, and my first rum & coke in the bed of his pickup, Steve's name appeared on my Facebook page. All my Jr. High emotions came flooding back. I couldn't get the pictures of us together posted quickly enough! I sent him a message confessing my school girl crush. We exchanged a few more communications, then agreed to meet for old time sake.
He remembered two double dates in his pickup. I teased him that, thanks to him, I never did see "Mash" all the way through. As we caught each other up on our lives, I was surprised at how little I knew about him back in our school days. Remarkably, he was a straight A student through high school, was president of Phi House, played tuba in the band, and won a music scholarship.
Years later, he took over his dad's produce distribution business, and built it into a highly successful enterprise. He introduced me to his dad when I visited the shop one day.
"Dad, remember when you took me to the store to buy that blue jacket in 7th grade?"
Mr. Del Masso nodded.
"It was for me to wear on a date with Camille," Steve said with a smile.
there's nothing like young love, nothing at all--except maybe a sweet rum and coke...very fun read
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