Dolores - Her Life, Our Life

By Ted Theodore

This biography chronicles countless accomplishments of his wife of 43 years, Dolores Fuentes Theodore, and attempts to unravel the mysteries clouding her Mexican family upon their early 20th century arrival in Texas. As a second-generation Mexican American who only spoke Spanish when she entered kindergarten, Dolores lived a life marked by major assimilations into different cultures. Her intense desire and self-discipline to achieve influenced many. Her assimilation into the Hellenic culture and Eastern Orthodoxy provided the focus for her philanthropy. Dolores final two years marked an exemplary struggle against non-smoking-related lung cancer, complicated by stroke-induced verbal aphasianever complaining, but reveling in the love of her grown daughters and their families. Those last years became symbolic of the way she lived her entire lifea compact upbeat moment in time of how she affected people positively throughout her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 12, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462826384

Ted Theodore

Ted loves teaching the word of God and is passionate about sharing his testimony and relationship with the Lord. He is married to Rachel Smith Theodore, a full-time minister of the gospel and Head Pastor of Shepherd Place Ministries, The Hague, Netherlands, where he also serves as a deacon. They are blessed with two children – Mayo and Jemimah. He is a management consultant and an entrepreneur with a passion for helping people and organisations achieve their potential.

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Dolores—Her Life, Our Life

Ted Theodore

Copyright © 2007 by Ted Theodore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author and publisher, Ted G. Theodore, 2015 Camino de Los Robles, Menlo Park, CA 94025-5916.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

DOLORES FUENTES THEODORE EULOGIZED

CONVERGENCE OF TWO LIVES

OUR FIRST MEETING

DOLORES’ LINEAGE, EARLY JOURNEYS, AND EDUCATION

FAMILY RECOLLECTIONS

OUR CONTINUED COURTSHIP

CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY AT LOS ANGELES

MARRIAGE AND ITS SURROUNDING EVENTS

FIRST YEARS OF MARRIED LIFE, 1961 TO 1967

EARLY YEARS IN MENLO PARK AND BATTLE MOUNTAIN, 1967 TO 1970

LIFE’S MILESTONES, 1971-1978

CAMPING IN THE SIERRAS AND IN THE COAST RANGES

GROWING UP IN SEQUOIA AND YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARKS

THANKSGIVINGS IN PISMO BEACH

INVOLVEMENT AT HOLY CROSS CHURCH

PASSING OF APHRODITE THEODORE, 1983

PASSING OF BRIGIDA DAVIS, JANUARY, 1987

COLLEGE YEARS OF ANDREA AND CATHERINE

AGE CONCERNS

NOTEWORTHY TRAVEL

CONSOLIDATING FAMILY TIES

FORTIETH ANNIVERSARY, 2001

DOLORES AS CONFIDANT

FINAL YEARS

MOM AND I by Catherine Dacey

EPILOGUE

AFTERWORD

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

APPENDIX 1

APPENDIX 2

APPENDIX 3

DEDICATION

For Michael J. Dacey III

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Figure 1—Sketch map of northeast Mexico and south-central United States showing location of the State of Nuevo Leon, as well as cities and towns mentioned in text.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece—Dolores Fuentes about 1955 Figure 1—Sketch map of northeast Mexico and south-central United States showing location of the State of Nuevo Leon, as well as cities and towns mentioned in text Figure 2—Lineage of Dolores Fuentes

Photographs showing:

Plate 1—Aphrodite (Panopoulos) Theodore and her family

Plate 2—Early family

Plate 3—Dolores’ maternal grandfather, Dario Palacios Sr

Plate 4—The Palacios family in Seguin, Tex

Plate 5—The Palacios family in Seguin, Tex. (cont’d.)

Plate 6—Buildings associated with Palacios family in Seguin, Tex

Plate 7—Dolores’ mother and gravesite of Dolores’ grandparents

Plate 8—Dolores’ father in the 1930s, her parents, and Dolores in 1937 ..

Plate 9—Dolores in the late 1930s and early 1940s in Texas

Plate 10—Fuentes family in the 1940s in Houston, Tex

Plate 11—Dolores in the1940s

Plate 12—Partial 1952 graduating class of John Muir Junior High School ..

Plate 13—Dolores during her high school years

Plate 14—Dolores between 1955 and 1958

Plate 15—Dolores and Ted during their dating

Plate 16—Dolores and Ted’s wedding day, February 11, 1961

Plate 17—Dolores in the early 1960s

Plate 18—Dolores at Borrego Springs, Calif

Plate 19—Andrea’s baptism and later in Battle Mountain, Nev

Plate 20—A young Andrea

Plate 21—A young Catherine

Plate 22—Theodore family photographs

Plate 23—Dolores at Las Lomitas Elementary School, Atherton, Calif.

Plate 24—Nacozari, Mexico, in 1974

Plate 25—Ceramics made by Dolores

Plate 26—Dolores in the Sierras

Plate 27—Dolores and her sisters and brother at Yosemite National Park

Plate 28—Dolores, Chela Medecigo and Rita in Yosemite Valley

Plate 29—Winter activities

Plate 30—Holy Cross Philoptochos Board for 1995-1999

Plate 31—Holy Cross

Plate 32—Dolores at Belmont’s Holy Cross Church festivals

Plate 33—Dolores at various Church functions

Plate 34—Dolores at some formal affairs

Plate 35—Mexico during Dolores’ visit with her paternal relatives in 1990 ...

Plate 36—Dolores in London in 1992

Plate 37—Dolores in Greece in 1992

Plate 38—Dolores in Greece in 1992 (cont’d.)

Plate 39—Dolores in Greece in 1992 (cont’d.)

Plate 40—Japan during visit with Andrea in 1999

Plate 41—Baltic cruise in 2001

Plate 42—Baltic cruise in 2001 (cont’d.)

Plate 43—Dolores during geologic fieldwork in Nevada

Plate 44—Celebration of 40th wedding anniversary of Dolores and Ted.... Plate 45—Day of Andrea’s bridal shower, March 16, 2002

Plate 46—Andrea Theodore and Bob Gray’s wedding at Calistoga, Calif.

Plate 47—Andrea and Bob’s wedding (cont’d.)

Plate 48—Catherine Theodore’s bridal shower Beverly Hills, Calif

Plate 49—Catherine Theodore’s bridal shower Redwood City, Calif.

Plate 50—Afternoon tea at Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Half Moon Bay, Calif

Plate 51—Evening before Catherine and Michael’s wedding

Plate 52—Wedding day of Catherine and Michael, Nov. 9, 2002

Plate 53—Family wedding portrait of Michael and Catherine Dacey

Plate 54—Reception following Catherine and Michael’s wedding

Plate 55—Concepción’s 90th birthday party in Huntington Park, Calif.

Plate 56—Concepción’s 90th birthday party (cont’d.)

Plate 57—Kyriazis home on day of Concepción’s 90th birthday

Plate 58—Frank and Michelle Fuentes home following

funeral of Concepción

Plate 59—Dolores in 2003

DOLORES FUENTES THEODORE EULOGIZED

Born March 20, 1937, at Houston Texas—Passed into Eternity May 9, 2004,

Stanford, California

Eulogy given by Ted Theodore, her husband of 43 years, at the Trisagion,

7:30 pm, May 11, 2004 Holy Cross Church, Belmont, California

T

HANK YOU FOR COMING TONIGHT TO HELP US WISH DOLORES FAREWELL. OUR

family wants to thank all of you for the continuous loving support you have shown us throughout the years but especially during the past two years. Fortunately, after Dolores became ill, we were able to celebrate the marriage of our two daughters to two wonderful sons-in-law, Bob and Michael, whom she loved immensely. Yet, contrary to what many may think, the positives more than outweighed the negatives during the last two years as Dolores faced the enormous task of fighting advanced cancer from the very onset of her difficulties. The caring and love she provided in abundance to Andrea and Catherine as she raised them were returned a thousand fold during her illness. Although she could not say my name—I became either Señor or Señorito—she could say No Señor! with unusual resolve.

As yard duty and teacher’s aide, she loved the kids at Las Lomitas. Philoptochos and its numerous charities and events always were an integral part of her life. Her presidency was a highpoint and was something that she felt honored to have had. She was always asking about its various activities. We who were fortunate to have been part of her life recognized that whatever she did was done to its ultimate perfection with a conviction that was hard to match.

Her toughness during these past few months impressed Michael so much that he remarked that had he known how tough she really was, he would have been much more afraid of her than he was.

One thing though indelibly impressed upon us during Dolores’ last hours is how precious each and every life truly is—you come to realize this as you watch the

clock slowly wind its way down to the moment when the support systems are removed from one who has been the central part of your life for 46 years. I kept thinking that we have only one chance to do it right in our lives and I can say without the least hesitation that she got it right. She died peacefully and quickly with no pain and all of our family at her bedside holding her.

In closing, I would like to read a short poem that Megan, one of Catherine’s friends, sent. I think the last two lines are quite appropriate and I hope I can get to them.

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep1

Do not stand

at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds

that blow. I am the diamond glint on snow. I am the sunlight

on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in

the morning hush, I am the soft uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft star that

shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.

Her legacy is a love of, caring for, and kindness towards others that we were all fortunate to have been part of. Dolores, thank you for allowing me into your life. May your memory be eternal.

In the following narrative, I will unveil a personal portrayal of the life of my wife and my love, Dolores Fuentes Theodore, and how she came to give a significant part of herself to countless other people over the course of her life. Such a legacy of giving she especially bequeathed unaffectedly to our two daughters Andrea and Catherine. I hope to enhance this portrayal of Dolores by including as comprehensive a pictorial archive as possible of those salient events marking important milestones in her life.

Nevertheless, any exacting undertaking of this kind would not be complete if it did not attempt to address a number of questions that inevitably will arise concerning such an extraordinary individual. How, from an exceptionally modest and humble upbringing, did she become such a well esteemed, accomplished, and dedicated mother, school aide, and volunteer leader who devoted countless hours over her lifetime to numerous charitable causes? How was she able to impact positively so many children’s and adult’s lives beyond her immediate circle of friends and relatives? Where did the strength, ambition, and internal drive toward excellence arise that permeated every one of her undertakings? How did she, as an adult convert, come to be an unblemished example of kind and gentle Eastern Orthodox Hellenism? How did she become such an outstanding role model to family, friends, and acquaintances? Finally, how was she able to create such an idyllic home environment?

The primary purpose of this biography is to provide a permanent record of a remarkable woman so that her grandchildren and great grandchildren some day in their adulthoods can appreciate who she was and what she accomplished—so that they may value their own multicultural backgrounds that in no small way contributed to who they themselves have become. In a sense, this endeavor has allowed me to retain contact with Dolores after her untimely death through my desire to understand her fully from the people and events that significantly impacted her life. In addition, through preparation of this biography that I began shortly after Dolores passed away, I hope to learn something about myself.

This is the life and the legacy of Dolores Fuentes Theodore.

CONVERGENCE OF TWO LIVES

B

EFORE

I

BEGIN AN IN-DEPTH JOURNEY THROUGH DOLORES (NEE FUENTES) THEODORE’S

countless accomplishments, as well as the complexities clouding her family heritage, I must digress briefly into my own background. As you will shortly realize, such a digression—though seemingly circuitous at the very outset of her life’s story—will provide useful insight into events that bore directly on the two of us meeting.

How and when did Dolores, a second-generation Mexican American, who only spoke Spanish when she entered kindergarten in Texas, and I, a first-generation Greek American, who only spoke Greek when I entered kindergarten in California, ultimately meet and marry? What major events in my life played a significant role in the two of us uniting for a lifetime? As detailed below, our life stories hinge on education—the critical fiber that tied our lives together. Further, this brief examination illustrates many decision-making points or crossroads during a relatively short period where had I made some other career-path choice, the two of us would never have met and subsequently built a family. Because we met in college, most of my life-impacting decisions revolve around how I came to decide upon my chosen career as an economic geologist. A surprising result from this review is I personally did not have many options available at many crossroads that inexorably led to Dolores. Did Fate play a role? Or as phrased by the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius in his "Meditations’—That which happens to every man is fixed in a manner for him suitably to his destiny. (167 AD [or CE, Common Era], Book X) (George Long, translator, http://classics. mit.edu/Antoninus/meditations.5.five.html). Or else, as one of my friends has said many times, Whatever happens happens!

Unpredictably, our story begins to unfold in Eastern Europe about 100 years ago.

The general path of my grammar school and high school education was determined well before I was born, primarily because of the childhood educational experiences of my mother in Romania. My mother Aphrodite Panopoulos, who was of Greek-Romanian ancestry, spent her early school years in a Roman Catholic boarding school in Bucharest, Romania’s capital. This in itself is somewhat unusual because the predominant religion in Romania is Eastern Orthodox, as were the religious beliefs of my mother and her family. Bucharest had a population of about 300,000 people in 1907, of which about two thirds were Eastern Orthodox and about 60,000 were Latin-Rite Catholics under the jurisdiction of the Pope in Rome (Bukarest [sic], Catholic Encyclopedia on CD—ROM, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/03045a.htm).

My maternal grandfather, Theodore Panopoulos (Panopol in Romanian) (18XX—1936?), managed a government-sponsored farm complex near Braila, Romania (Photo i). This complex was near the Black Sea, about 160 miles northeast of Bucharest. The main domicile of the Panopoulos family at that time, however, remained in Bucharest. In 1907, my grandfather was forced to place my mother, who was five years old, in a Catholic boarding school. I can barely imagine the profound shock, despair, and fright Mother must have experienced at being uprooted from the comfort of a loving home at such an impressionably young age. This abrupt placement in boarding school came about, because her mother Catherine (2), my grandmother, tragically succumbed to typhoid fever after drinking polluted water from a stream during a family outing on a terribly hot day.

Mother was boarded in Bucharest in a school administered by the Sisters of Notre-Dame de Sion (Zion). My sister and I distinctly remember over the years Mother often referred to Notre-Dame de Sion whenever she described her stay with the nuns. Interestingly, two brothers—one named Marie-Theodore Ratisbonne and the other Marie-Alphonse Ratisbonne—founded this order of nuns in Paris in 1843 (Congregation of Notre-Dame de Sion, Catholic Encyclopedia on CD—ROM, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/03045a.htm). The Ratisbonne brothers were of a Jewish heritage, and, after their conversion to Christianity, wanted to spread the Christian Gospel particularly among the Jews. However, the system of schools this order eventually founded throughout many countries maintained a credo that did not discriminate because of race, color, or creed among their pupils.

Did this additional exposure to the given name Theodore reinforce my mother to give her first-born son, that is to say me, the name Theodore? Probably not. Although my given name is Theodore, I have always gone by Ted. Nonetheless, during her stay in boarding school, my mother became fluent in four languages: Romanian, Greek, German, and French. She was able to converse comfortably in all of these languages throughout her life. To our family,

she often extolled the superb quality of her educational stay in the Catholic boarding school. Later, after my mother returned home as a young teenager (3), she helped run the Panopoulos household for her new stepmother Olga. The unexpected responsibilities heaped upon her when Mother eventually returned permanently to the Panopoulos household—now managed by the recently arrived Olga—planted a seed in my mother’s mind to someday come to America (Georgia Kyriazis, oral commun., 2006).

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Subsequently during World War I, a number of staff officers from the German army that occupied Romania were billeted in the Panopoulos’ home in Bucharest. The Panopoulos’ home must have been quite large, and well furnished. Romania had declared war on Austria-Hungary on August 27, 1916. In retribution, the Central Powers, led by Germany, then occupied Bucharest on December 6, 1916 and remained there until November 1918. This turned out to be a turbulent time during which Mother was given the additional responsibility of preparing the main dinner courses for their German guests—many surprisingly spoke flawless Greek. She was only 14 when the Germans unexpectedly came into her family’s life. My mother’s sister, Aunt Flora, was put in charge of desserts. Though Aunt Flora’s given name was Persephone, she never went by that. Later after the war, my mother also helped raise her younger half-sister Meni (4), to whom she became closely attached.

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Aphrodite (Panopoulos) Theodore and her family. Photo 1, Theodore Panopoulos, father of Aphrodite and grandfather of Ted Theodore and Georgia Kyriazis. Photo 2, Catherine (Suga) Panopoulos, mother of Aphrodite and grandmother of Ted and Georgia. Photo 3, Aphrodite Theodore, mother of Ted and Georgia, about 1913. Photo 4, Aphrodite and her younger half sister Meni in 1920.

Because Mother regarded her Catholic boarding school experience so positively, she wanted the same quality of education for her children. Many people recently have expressed analogous thoughts about the merits of a boarding school education: In boarding schools, a kind of utopian community can be fostered, where the learning, with its rigor and ritual, underpinned by the values of safety, integrity and trust-worthiness, is lived out day to day (M.B.T. Ford, The New York Times Letters, Sept. 12, 2005). Thus, Mother decided, well before she met and married my father, her children would attend parochial Catholic elementary day schools, as well as Catholic high schools whenever and wherever she finally would establish a home.

Mother eventually came to the United States in 1935 to marry my father, George Marcus Theodore (1890—1972, see below). At the time, he co-owned and cooperated with his two older brothers a large commercial laundry, initially built in 1925 (Lloyd Theodore, written commun., 2006). The laundry was named The Cosmopolitan Laundry, and was located on Westmoreland Avenue in Los Angeles near Beverly Boulevard and Vermont Avenue. This was the third large laundry owned by the Theodore brothers up to that time. During its heyday in the 1940s, perhaps 200 employees worked at the Cosmopolitan Laundry. However, my father had resided in the United States for more than 25 years prior to his involvement with my mother.

My father came to the United States in 1907 from a small, sleepy village named Nestani in south-central Greece, where he most likely received the equivalent of about a sixth grade education. The date of his immigration to the United States is incorrectly listed as 1909 in the 1910 United States Census, whereas the 1930 United States Census correctly shows his arrival as 1907. As a financially strapped 17-year-old immigrant eager to succeed and to send money home to Greece, his first job in the United States was laying and repairing railroad track. This work probably was located somewhere in or near Gallatin County, Montana, on the basis of data included in the 1910 United States Census. During this early part of his life in America, he also worked on a railroad in Nebraska near the Platte River (Jim Kyriazis, oral commun., 2006; see also, Papanikolas, H., 1987, Αιμιλία—Γεώργιος Emily—George : Salt Lake City, University of Utah Press, 327 p. for descriptions of young Greek immigrants toiling on railroad labor gangs at that time).

In addition, my father’s family surname originally was Theodosiou, but it had been informally Anglicized or Americanized to Theodore by him and his brothers by the time of the 1910 census, barely three years after my father’s arrival. Eventually, their name was legally changed to Theodore on March 26, 1920 (Lloyd Theodore, written commun., 2006; see also "Epilogue’ below). Theodore, in fact, is an unusually common surname assumed by many immigrants who arrived from Greece during the first decade of the 20th century. Many immigrants wanted to assure their liklihood of work in the United States, so they unhesitatingly complied with their employers’ requests to Anglicize or simplify their names. Another impetus for a change of given names occurred when children of many immigrants first entered school. Their teachers wanted simple American names attached to the faces arrayed before them so they could more easily remember them. The maiden surname of my father’s mother is Papadimitriou.

My father was 45 when he married my mother in 1935—it was his second marriage. His first marriage was at the age of 29 or 30 in either late 1920 or early 1921. This marriage, which lasted about 10 years, was to a widow named Floy Thornton, who was six years older than he—no children resulted from this union.

Prior to their marriage, Floy worked with my father and two of his brothers, Gus (1884-1954) and Nicolas (1888-1984) in the Anaheim Steam Laundry. This was the first of three large laundries owned by the three Theodore brothers, and it was located on Lemon Street in Anaheim, California. The proprietor of the Anaheim Steam Laundry, according to the 1920 United States Census, was my Uncle Gus, my father’s oldest brother. However, newspaper accounts from 1925 correctly indicate all three Theodore brothers originally purchased the Anaheim Steam Laundry in 1912 (Lloyd Theodore, written commun., 2006). Indeed, Floy, my Uncle Nick, and my father are all listed as lodgers in the household of Uncle Gus in the 1920 United States Census. Floy continued to work at the laundry with the three Theodore brothers after she and my father married, as did Uncle Gus’s wife, my Aunt Minnie (1890-1962). The Anaheim Steam Laundry was succeeded in February 1922 by a much larger and more modern laundry facility, the Anaheim Laundry Company, also on Lemon Street and also owned by the three Theodores (Orange County Plain Dealer, February 7, 1922). Infidelity by Floy resulted in the failure of my father’s first marriage.

By the time of the 1930 United States Census, however, my father is single again and now boarding with Uncle Nick and Aunt Lucille (1902-1988). Their monthly home rental amounted to $65.00 at that time. Another brother of my father, Basil (or Bill, 1904-1986), came to the United States in 1929, and subsequently attended and graduated in 1935 from the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) (Marcus Theodore, written commun., 2006). My father’s fourth sibling in the United States was my Aunt Treso (or Trisagoni), also deceased (1900-1989). Three other siblings, Kanella, Andrew, and Kyriako (all deceased), remained in Greece, prefering not to come to the United States.

The ensuing marriage of my father to my mother in December 1935, about five years after the breakup of his first marriage, was an arranged union orchestrated by my mother’s sister Flora, her only sibling in the United States. In fact, my parents married about one month after Mother’s arrival in the United States, which seems incomprehensible when one considers the numerous prenuptial arrangements to be completed in such a short period of time (G. Kyriazis, oral commun., 2006). Aunt Flora previously had come to the United States in 1930, the most probable year of the breakup of my father’s first marriage. After his divorce from Floy, my father returned to Greece for an extended stay of a year or more, at which time he supervised construction of a new Theodosiou House in Nestani on behalf of all the Theodore siblings then residing in the United States. Further, according to the 1930 United States Census, a Floy T. Theodore—presumably the first wife of my father—continued to reside in Los Angeles with her sister after the breakup of her marriage to my father.

In all, my parents had four children, two of which died shortly after birth. The two surviving children of my parents, my younger sister Georgia and I, thus had a prescribed early educational path, because of the school experiences of my mother—a path essentially set many years before we were even born as I described above. At the time, though, my sister and I did not fully understand the rationale behind our attending Catholic schools. Although my sister and I both attended Catholic primary and secondary schools, our family is decidedly not Roman Catholic—our religious roots were and are staunchly Eastern (Greek) Orthodox.

After attending Immaculate Heart of Mary (IHM) grammar school near Hollywood, California from the fourth through the eighth grades, I entered Loyola High School in the Fall of 1951. Surprisingly, some events during those grammar school years at IHM, as described in the "Epilogue’ of this biography, provide a highly improbable finale to the pathways that contribute to the course of my life.

Loyola High School is a Society of Jesus (Jesuit) Order-administered all male, college preparatory high school in central Los Angeles. The Jesuits are well known for secondary and college educational institutions they oversee throughout the United States. As such, Loyola High School, which was founded in 1865, is the oldest private high school Los Angeles. Further, the school requires an entrance examination—though I can barely recall taking the exam, and I have no memory surrounding details of my acceptance. In my mother’s mind, Loyola High School probably best approached the quality of education she experienced with the Sisters of Notre-Dame de Sion in Bucharest.

During my high school years, Loyola typically matriculated a class of about 150 students each year; today (2006) it has a total enrollment of about 1,200 students, or roughly double the enrollment during my attendance. In the 1950s, tuition was about $250 per school year—now it is about $8,000 per year, excluding an approximate across-the-board $5,000 tuition subsidy per student provided by the foundation that administers the high school. At the time of my attendance, almost all classes were taught either by a Jesuit priest or by a Jesuit brother. This is no longer the case. In 2005, only three Jesuit priests were in residence and teaching in the high school out of a total faculty of about 90. Such a low percentage of teachers belonging to the Jesuits is the result of a combination of two factors: first, lack of sufficient numbers of men entering the Jesuit priesthood, and second, a preference of Jesuits to lecture at the college level rather than in a high school.

Fortunately, I did well academically at Loyola, making the Top-Ten honor roll during every six-week rating period while there, and graduating in the Spring of 1955 with an Honorary Classical Diploma. I believe I ranked within the top five of our graduating class in terms of grade-point average. The Honorary Classical Diploma recognized satisfactory completion of six years of foreign language (four years of Latin and two years of Ancient Greek) while in high school. However, the awarding of this type diploma certainly was not that singular an achievement—approximately 60 of my classmates received similar diplomas, roughly 40 percent of the graduating class in 1955. I also must admit I had a distinct advantage over all of my peers in the Ancient Greek classes, because of my Greek heritage and my continued ability to speak, albeit haltingly, and understand Modern Greek. At least I was familiar with the Greek alphabet, and the pronunciation of many words, though our instructor used a highly Anglicized pronunciation in almost all lectures. I recall to this day that his pronunciation grated my Greek-tuned ears a lot.

Even so, I was totally surprised at the end of our first rating period in freshman year when told by my classmates my name was posted in the administration building near the bottom of the Top Ten honor roll. Somehow, that posting motivated me to strive for the highest grade-point average during at least one subsequent rating period. As a result, I spent most evenings, late nights, and weekends studying. I certainly fit the classic definition of nerd precisely, including the horn rimmed glasses, at times even with white tape holding them together. As a consequence, I rarely dated during high school. However, irrespective of all of my studying, I never achieved that sought-for highest academic ranking throughout my high school tenure. I was never able to garner sufficiently high grades in all subjects to be ranked number one for any one rating period. Nonetheless, I came close a number of times—within hundredths of a percentage point—but I never quite made it to the top. Although I studied extremely hard, I did not seem to be well accepted by an elitist academic cadre that formed the core of our classes—I sensed they had a feeling of my not belonging. Perhaps those feelings were mutual. I, as well, did not consider myself to be allied closely to them, nor did I ever socialize with them after class or on weekends.

As my high school days were coming to an end, my father decided any continued formal schooling for me should be put in abeyance. Upon my high school graduation, he thought I was ready to enter the workforce thereby following his work path as a 17-year-old newly arrived immigrant in the United States some 48 years before. My mother disagreed strongly.

Though I did well academically in high school, I was extremely naive—perhaps ignorant is an even more appropriate description—about many important issues concerning a college education. Further, I could not seek any advice from my parents or any other close family members, because they never went through the process. For example, I did not realize early in my senior year during the college-application process I was required to submit an application form to accompany a letter seeking financial aid I sent to Santa Clara University in northern California. This letter was sent at the prodding of a guidance counselor—I did not know a thing about Santa Clara University. Actually, I probably did not even know its location. I simply mailed the letter unaccompanied by any backup transcripts, application forms, or reference letters vouching for my qualifications. At the time, I could not fathom why I never received a reply from Santa Clara. However, I finally realized what had happened, no thanks to the overworked guidance counselor, and then was faced with fast-approaching application deadlines at other colleges.

Almost as the final option available to me, I managed to submit an application to Loyola University at Playa del Rey, Los Angeles (now renamed Loyola Marymount University), where most of my high school friends also applied. This constituted the only college application I submitted at the time of my graduation from high school. I am not sure if my application was received after the cutoff date by Loyola University, and I also am not sure whether someone from the high school administration intervened on my behalf because of a tardy application. I do recall, however, at our high school graduation ceremonies I was chagrined to not receive any award—not even a partial scholarship to cover some of the costs of my forthcoming college studies. This was especially galling to me because many classmates, who did not do as well as I academically, were awarded partial scholarships. Many of these were to Loyola University. With my tardiness, I missed my opportunity.

I eventually was admitted to Loyola University, but I only attended two semesters, Fall 1955 and Spring 1956. At the time, I intended to become an electrical engineer, not actually knowing what an electrical engineer really did. Nonetheless, I continued to do well academically those two semesters. However, my finances by then were so strained I could not carry on with studies during what would have become my sophomore year. Although I worked as a firefighter for the California Division of Forestry (CDF) in Orange County, California, during the Summer of 1956, my take-home pay simply was not adequate to finance another full year of attendance at a private college.

Late that Summer, I finally decided I needed a much sounder personal financial footing—I would have to work full time for a while, save money, and probably forgo going to a private university when I returned to college. I never considered the possibility of borrowing money—I am not sure why borrowing money to cover my college costs never entered my mind. Nevertheless, near the end of the Summer of 1956, I received a phone call from Loyola University informing me I was to be awarded $125 by one of the campus engineering societies to partially defray my forthcoming tuition costs. Regardless, this award would not cover the impending outlay for tuition, as well as books and car travel to and from the campus. I thanked them for the award and informed the university I would not be returning. Thus, I decided to drop out of school at least for a year, and to continue my summer employment as a firefighter at the CDF in Orange County through the next academic year.

I now realize many in my family, including aunts and cousins but especially my mother, were quite concerned I decided to temporarily give up my college studies. They made numerous veiled references about what I was going to do with my life. Meetings were set up with my cousin Charles Theodore (1920—2006), son of my Uncle Gus, at his engineering workplace to show me the marvels of what one might accomplish with a college degree, particularly an engineering degree. A friend of my Aunt Flora asked me to apply for a federal work-study program funded by the Defense Department, wherein I could attain an engineering degree after a number of years. I was accepted into the program, but at the very last moment, I declined—I would have had to move to Oxnard, California. I was not ready to leave the comforting environment of my home and the social interactions with my friends, and I was unsure about the work I would be doing. Further, what would my living conditions be?

Finally, after a lapse of one year in my college studies, I re-entered college. In part, this move was prompted by a realization I would always be a firefighter without much chance of advancement to fire-truck driver or foreman in the CDF. Thus, I enrolled at Los Angeles City College (LACC) in the Fall of 1958, again as an aspiring engineering student. I attempted to resurrect the sought-for career I first had embarked upon at Loyola University. One of the benefits of attending LACC was I no longer had to drive across an outstretched Los Angeles with its seemingly unending commute problems. LACC was within walking distance of my parents’ home, about six blocks away. At first, I considered applying directly to the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA), on the west side of Los Angeles, but, after some thought, instead decided I might as well take advantage of the nearby LACC junior college campus for several semesters to conserve my meager finances.

I immediately experienced some harsh consequences from my yearlong absence from academic life. Almost at once I came to realize my year’s lapse from any contact with advanced mathematics caused me to forget much of my math fundamentals. I then decided to find a professional field other than engineering to enter. This decision certainly was hastened by extremely poor grades in the first few math exams I took that semester. So what happened to the supposedly academically stellar person I thought I was? Well, I was given a reality check. I actually also concluded engineering was not a profession I had much interest in—I instead wanted to spend as many of my employed hours out of doors as possible. Perhaps this feeling was enhanced by my just completed yearlong stint as a firefighter dealing mostly with range and forest fires. My high school friends and I over the preceding five or six years also spent many weekends hiking—hilariously festooned with back-packs and canteens on military web belts—in the Hollywood Hills. Yes, the Hollywood Hills. So, what better than focusing on a career as a geologist, especially field geology where the emphasis is on geologic maps prepared by tramping over rock strewn slopes in remote mountain ranges?

I continued to enjoy carefree days as a newly enrolled full-time student. Because home was within walking distance of the LACC campus, I generally would leave about 8

A.M.

and, running most of the way, still make it to class by the 8:10

A.M.

final bell. During that first semester at LACC, much of my non-school-related time was devoted to working out by lifting weights and participating in various sports activities with friends from my former high school and grammar school. Dating? Sparse, at best.

For the Spring semester of 1958, I enrolled in a course titled Physical Geology (Geol 1) at LACC. This would be the initial course of many geology-related undergraduate and graduate courses I was to take over the next several years as I became more and more deeply enthralled by the profession. I could sense immediately I had made the right choice for a career. Most importantly though, enrollment in that geology class led to an immeasurably profound and long-lasting change in my personal life.

OUR FIRST MEETING

A

PETITE, DARK-HAIRED COED ARRIVED LATE THAT MORNING FOR OUR FIRST CLASS IN PHYSICAL

Geology. She was quite attractive in an obvious yet circumspect manner. Most seats in the classroom already were occupied. The coed was carrying a number of books tightly wrapped in her arms and held close to her chest. Book-filled backpacks had not yet made their appearance to alleviate the strained arms of the students of that era. Her flared 1950s—style light green skirt was twirling in tight arcs as she rapidly walked into the classroom. When she glanced around, she clearly became frazzled upon suddenly realizing she was the only woman in a classroom of about 25 glaring men. Nevertheless, this still-unnamed coed did confess some 25 years later one reason for her choosing the Physical Geology course was to meet men. Well, here were 25 men ready to meet her as well!

The course in Physical Geology was conducted on the second floor of one of the older ivy-covered buildings on the crowded LACC campus that fronted onto Vermont Avenue, a major north-south artery through the heart of Los Angeles. The well-eyed coed hurriedly took a seat behind me in the third row on the far left as one faces the lectern, and I, though momentarily but much distracted, resumed listening intently to our first geologic lecture.

Long black laboratory tables were permanent fixtures in the combination laboratory and classroom. They were the dominant features in the classroom, together with a number of pull-down geologic and geomorphic maps that covered the walls. The afternoon twice-weekly laboratory associated with the class was held in the same classroom, and was devoted primarily to examining and learning how to recognize and classify various igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary rocks. Of course, mastery of how to measure the strike and dip of planar features, such as bedding and faults, using a Brunton compass also was an important laboratory exercise in that introductory physical geology class.

I do not recall much about the first few weeks of lectures in the Physical Geology course other than the nameless coed became connected to a name—Dolores Fuentes—a name I learned from roll call at the beginning of class. I also remember she also was continually being hustled by a number of the guys during our class breaks. One day she arrived sporting a newly cropped head of hair such that the back of her exposed white neck stood out starkly. Though I could not keep my eyes off of her, I made no effort to approach her. I subsequently learned from Dolores that my overall sleepy and disheveled appearance in the classroom suggested, first, I must be working hard after school to support myself and possibly even a family, and, second, I must be much older than she because of my generally unkempt appearance. Nothing could be farther from the truth about both of these conjectures—the only truth being my unkempt appearance. I had, in fact, saved enough money by working full time the previous year as a CDF firefighter—making all of $281 a month—that I did not need to work for a while. At LACC, it cost a paltry eight dollars (yes, $8) for a semester’s registration in the late 1950s. Books cost a small fraction of what they cost today. But, most of all, I did not have to pay any room and board. Further, I would soon learn I was younger than Dolores by five months—something she would always resent!

We had a number of midterm examinations in Physical Geology as the semester progressed, and I was getting fairly good grades. Certainly this marked a fortunate change from my mathematics encounter the previous semester. I think the good grades are what caused Dolores to finally take notice of me. Anyway, she came over to me one day during one of the class breaks, formally introduced herself, and we began talking in the vine-covered walkway just outside the classroom. Finally, near the end of our conversation, I asked if she had anything to do that afternoon. She responded, No. I am sure she really did have something planned. Later, realizing how tight her daily schedule always was, I now wonder what Dolores decided to forgo that afternoon. Regardless, I then suggested we take a drive up to view the city from the Griffith Park Observatory in the Hollywood Hills that overlook the north end of the out-stretched city below. We sat talking under the warm sun on one of the benches outside the observatory, me with my arm gingerly placed around her shoulder, and she wearing a light-colored shirt blouse,