The Broken Flower Girl

By B J Tryon

On February 23,2019, my beloved brother died. It was a shock to his family, friends and the Old Saybrook, CT community. He was smart, generous, jolley and a CPA. RIP my brother!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664108363

B J Tryon

She was a 26 year old woman who relocated to San Francisco from CT, alone. She already had a car accident at UConn to contend with. She was unemployable because of that. She was really into Rock n' Roll --She went to Endicott College, She got a BA in Social Work, Following this, she received an MA in Psych in San Francisco, at the Antioch West Campus.

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Copyright © 2021 by BJ Tryon.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/19/2021

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CONTENTS

Chapter I My First Beautiful College by the Sea

The Party of All Parties

Chapter II Bits and Pieces of My Younger Years

At the Heater

Chapter III Up The Camp or Down The Beach

Booze City

He Just Left

Chapter IV My Father’s Death

Real Estate Hoaxes

Chapter V

The Stud Brian and Haley Marry in Simsbury

The Beautiful Wedding of Robin and Jacob in Sint Maarten in the Caribbean

Chapter VI My Extended Family

Funeral Question

More of the Clinton Crowd

Unintended Mayor

Another Beach Community

The Allston Brighton Episode

Friends at the Big University

More about the University

The Cape Coder

Chapter VII The Event That Changed My Life

Chapter VIII Music as a Lifesaver

Here Are Some Other Quotes to Ponder

Chapter IX Wild Bill’s Death and His Store and His Brother Saulie

My Cousin Saul’s Journey

Chapter X Conrad’s in Fun

Another Dorm

Chapter XI Tripping The Light Fantastic

Chapter XII Rock Stars and LSD

LSD Havoc

Chapter XIII Deaths of Rock Stars and Other Mishaps

Chapter XIV Good Times and Bad Times

Chapter XV Musicians Galore

Chapter XVI My Inspiration to Move from The Atlantic to The Pacific

My Travels

Chapter XVII Grad School Debacle

Greenery on Castro Street

Chapter XVIII Art Fantastic

Chapter XIX Swim Like A Fish

Chapter XX Different Body Therapies

Weighty Issue

Chapter XXI The Ugly Side of Disability

Chapter XXII Miscellaneous Happenings

Bits and Pieces

The Party of All Parties

Chapter XXIII The Soup Nazi

Chapter XXIV The Junior College Reunion

Chapter XXV Trauma Happenings

Trauma Psychosis

Angel Junkies and Other Types

Boy Wonder

Skinny

Chapter XXVI Memoirs and Other Media Outlets

Cool Attorney

Musical

Kobe Bryant Issue

Chapter XXVII An Exploration of Harmonies

Central Park Concert

Rock Medicine

Chapter XXVIII Bits and Pieces of Rock ’n’ Roll Stars and Other Celebrities

That Old Folk Singer

The Kennedy Dynasty

Chapter XXIX This Is My Musical Footprint

Musical I

Musical Footprint II

Musical Footprint III

Musical IV (Generic Footprint)

Musical V (Other Generic Footprint)

Musical VI (Negative Footprint)

Musical VII (Zero Musical Footprint)

Musical VIII Transitional Music Footprint

Chapter XXX Catastrophes That Befell Me

Nursing Home Nightmares

The Sounds of San Francisco

Odd Quirks

Chapter XXXI Trips to Ohio and The Fallen Girl

Always New Products

The Really Bad Boys and One Lady Lawyer

Women Jailbirds

A Piece of Work

Phil Markoff, Med Student

On the Road Again and Again and Again

Weird Date Store

Chapter XXXII The Summer of Disasters, 2011

Hurricane Disaster

Back to the Story of the Summer of Mishaps

Philosophy of Life

Dedication—I want to dedicate this book to my

beautiful brother, who died on February 23, 2019.

I want to thank these people:

Madelyn, my dedicated sister

Gerry, my loyal boyfriend

All my family

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I

My First Beautiful College by the Sea

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Barbara Jean

So I went to college on the North Shore, northeast of Boston. I chose this elite school because of its location—right on the water. Sometimes I could see the ocean outside my classroom window—beautiful, to say the least. Also, it was because it had my major, medical secretarial, which I thought I wanted to be at the time. The college now is with a baccalaureate and master’s degree program. The college that could expand did. Dr. Anderson, the president, said their instituting a doctoral program with two other small colleges. The college is comprised of three beaches: Stone Beach, Sand Beach, and Pebble Beach. They all are beautiful.

There are fifty-six buildings, which include dorms, administration, maintenance, etc. New traditions include football (2001). Homecoming weekend features are flourishing with new ideas all the time.

In my class, there was the wife (Lisa Madison, ’69) of Peter Falk (think of old wrinkled-coat Columbo). I didn’t know her, but I knew him. Wonder what she’s doing now? On June 5, 2009, on the Larry King Show, there was an excerpt on the man. He was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. His father suffered from it too. This was his first wife. I looked up the two names in the yearbook, and I couldn’t find them. Maybe her name was fake because of publicity from her husband.

He passed away at eighty-three years old. He was born September 16, 1927 and died on June 23, 2011. He had a varied life, getting a master’s in public administration at Syracuse and then slipping into acting. I remember a wrinkled raincoat. It was in tatters at the end. This was his trademark in the hit show Columbo. I watched that religiously. And he had a glass eye from some disease during early childhood, but that didn’t stop him. I admire him for that. He was cool. Columbo lasted a long time on television, and he was the main reason why. Columbo had this air about him.

Another alumnus is Susie Castillo (’02). She was Miss USA 2003, and she is an author too. Susie was a host on MTV’s Request. Ms. Castillo was a co-commentator for the Miss America competition in 2011. It can be analogous to a little seed growing—us as students and the ocean our watering can. Students want to stretch themselves after graduation, be it more school, a better job, or starting a family.

Forest Whitaker—the well-known actor, filmmaker, and activist—and his wife and Endicott alumna Keisha Whitaker, model and television host and activist, were both at the commencement in 2010. Ms. Whitaker was awarded an honorary Doctor of Humane Letters for all her inspiring work. Endicott is such an enriching atmosphere. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I always am.

The president of the school, President Anderson, is such a down-to-earth guy. I had a few drinks with him last year, and I hoped to have more in the coming years. Unfortunately, he passed away on May 19, 2018. He went in the hospital with a couple of ribs broken, and it went downhill from there. He was seventy-seven years young. I gave some money to the Dean Anderson Scholarship Fund. He was one of a kind. He left his door open to the students and had some barbecues on his lawn. Richard was a personable guy. We will miss him. There will never be a president like him again. He put his whole being into it. Like the time a student had died in a car accident on campus, he put his whole heart into it. Richard ordered a wreath of flowers spread over the lake every month after the student died. He held a candlelight vigil at the lake.

We had to wear skirts every day. A nice blouse and then nylons or tights to complete the ensemble were required. How weird not to wear jeans or a flowing long hippie-type skirt. There were no dudes then on the campus to look us up and down. Maybe some kind of tradition was why we had to wear skirts. There weren’t men on campus, as I said before, so I was glad they stopped it at some point after that. Some rules are meant to be broken, and that was one of them. I was a free spirit, and I got carried away with rules and the lack of male species.

We dined at a complete dining regimen. We were seated at a beautiful long table with a white tablecloth and long drapes that covered long windows. Celebrating holidays were different; there were student waitresses with black pants and crisp white blouses and black vests to finish the ensemble. We had flowers on each table and some other paraphernalia to mark the holiday. (Otherwise, it was cafeteria style.) We had pumpkins galore on Halloween. We had to guess the weight of the biggest pumpkin, and to the coed who guessed right, she had the right to pick out a prize at the student bookstore. On the dessert side, they had pumpkin pie, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin cheesecake, and pumpkin custard. The students bobbed for apples in a big tub. The most apples anyone could get resulted in a prize from the bookstore. During Thanksgiving and Christmas, we were away on internship; mine was in a doctor’s office. Easter was the next holiday. People were dressing like Easter bunnies, and they were giving out chocolate bunnies and cream eggs, jellybeans, and licorice in the cafeteria. It was the professors who dressed up, and if you got a special egg when you dug your hand in the basket, they would tell you to go straight to the bookstore for a prize of school supplies. Everybody tried because the bookstore was expensive.

I was privileged enough to have clambakes on the shoulder of the majestic Atlantic Ocean. The brine of the fire-sconce clams mixed with the sea air was a gastric delight. Some of the students perused horseradish on them. How many college campuses have that?

Now as the story goes, I was bored with this hamlet. This scholastic institution had no dudes at that time, which was quite monotonous, and the main drag was a busload away. So, I had to think of some prank closer to where I was. As I was walking to West Hall—it has a different name now—I noticed, on the ground, a thick cord was in the gutter. It had length too. So, I could raise it as the cars went by across the street to scare them. It was brilliant, except for one thing: the gym teacher went by, and she recognized me. She reported it, and I was no longer eligible for the dean’s list even though I had made it.

Another time, I started a food fight in the cafeteria, and I stopped it because I didn’t want to be punished for it. I had a surge of power, knowing that I could do that. Adrenaline was pumping out of my body, like a sewer being pumped out of waste. It was an adrenaline high. I was in West Hall sitting in the hall outside my room, and I spotted a fire extinguisher. So, I was sitting out there, and I reached over to it and jiggled it free. Then I sprayed it, and it was fun. So, I did it again and again. Following this, if anyone saw me, I would say the socket got loose and there was fire. As I cleaned it up, there was no need to call the fire department. All was good.

As my senior prophecy states: Driving down Newberry Street, we heard a familiar shout, ‘Hey, Ellen. Hey, Sam!’ (The ex-president and his wife) They all looked up to the third-floor window and saw Trouble Tryon sitting on the fire escape. An unknown author reiterated that.

I was lucky enough to go to Bermuda for eight days with a bunch of college girls. Lynne S. knew somebody on the island, so we went there for a party. I remember a lot of drinking and other stuff that I will not get into at this time. I remember riding my electric scooter in the peaceful tropical night with a big full moon coming up. It was the time when the super moon was in full bloom. It was breathtaking, but then I remembered that I was alone, and this was a strange country, and then I hightailed it home to the hotel. I had more smarts than the Aruba girl who trusted too much (she was the girl who went off with Jory Soppy, and she’s been a missing person since).

I stayed at the Elbow Beach Hotel. All I could remember was the white coral in the aqua water with pink sand, and to get water, the natives relied on rainwater collected from the roofs’ gutters.

The Party of All Parties

Sometimes we went into Beantown to see the lights. Topeka and Mariam asked me if I’d like to go to a party there, and I was excited. We went to the train station, and we all hopped on to take the forty-five-minute commute to Boston. We went to the bash, and I was surprised to see that there were only guys there. This was a different kind of party. Topeka spread her legs, and one-by-one, they came inside her. Mariam spread her legs too, and she got the works. I freaked out. A gentleman took me away from there and accompanied me to the train depot. A wasted Saturday night. I was enraged. They didn’t tell me what kind of party it was. Do you think I would go to a gangbang like that? No way. What if they just left me there? The boys were college boys. Emerson College or Everett College came to mind, but I was not sure. How could the ladies be so intrusive as to use their bodies like that!

I must do research on why they did that. Were they abused? What was their homelife like when they were growing up? I found the women did this because it was fun, although I would disagree with this because of the diseases and the stigma attached slut or some such delegation. This high-risk behavior could not be fun. The other reason was sexual experimentation (Journal of Adolescence Research, vol. 23, January ’08, pp. 97–113). I can see other forms of sexual experimentation when you are young, but certainly not this. So, I disagree with these two reasons.

There must have been some toxic homelife. The girls grew up in Michigan and Connecticut. What were their mothers’ jobs? Where did they learn about sex? Endicott was a girl’s school then. Maybe they were acting out, just like I was misbehaving.

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Graduate

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The gang

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Coeds at the college Junior College Excitement

Now why men or boys do this is different, as I will explain further. This is streamlining, two or more men having sex with a woman usually but not always by coercive means, as it wasn’t in this case. The purpose of the assault is to facilitate male bonding. Another reason is to offer displays of hypermasculinity. It can also be referred to as running a train, which is multiple males and one female (Bourgois, Sandy, Warshaw). Some men or boys were less socially successful, and they turned to their friends to turn them on. Some of them would say, It’s only a game.

In the beginning, there was Mabe. She had come down to the shore from Bristol with a bunch of fresh-faced college girls to have some fun. They were sitting on the sun-drenched porch of the leased cottage, and the owner of the cottage was there too. Chet went by in a car, which was a two-seat Ford Coupe with a rumble seat, and my mother said she would like to meet him. The owner arranged that, and their first date was to fix a car. How romantic, I said in a sarcastic tone. He knew he was hooked right away, but he didn’t call her for a week. He knew she was the one whom he would get married to. My mother had the figure, and she was very social. I think she looked like Kate Hepburn (the swagger), but nobody else did.

My mother was accepted at a Connecticut college. She attended college for a year and one half. She would regret that later in life that she didn’t finish school. Mabe wanted children and a house in the suburbs, a garden of vegetables, and a bed of different flowers on the slope of their land, and she quit college for that. She wanted to be a homemaker and couldn’t be bothered with school.

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My mother and her college roommate,

showing off her ring from Chet

(Mabel is the one with saddle shoes)

The missus was also a seamstress. She made our dresses for grade school. Mabe canned vegetables and fruits, and she stocked them downstairs in the fruit cellar. My mother was like a pioneer matriarch doing the best for our family. I can still hear the humming of her Singer sewing machine. It went fast, and then it went slow, depending on the place in the dress she was laboring on. Sometimes it was sleeves (slow), and then you hear the motor running fast, which indicated the length of the dress. It would go very slow if she was installing a zipper. They were nice dresses. Thank you, Mabe.

She was a good cook, but she went too far with pork. Mabe was afraid of trichinosis, a disease you get when pork spoils, so she burned the hell out of pork chops. But she made good boiled dinners, lasagna, and manicotti. Mabe made good desserts and pies, such as blueberry and cherry. Thanksgiving, she produced pumpkin or mince. At Christmas time, she made cherry winks (which were Tim’s favorite), roll-up cookies that you put nuts and cinnamon inside, and peanut butter cookies so that if you eat just one, you craved more. During Easter, we received Easter baskets and made Easter eggs. We