My First House on Crete (1981)

I don’t know if it was due to the 1.5 yrs in technical school compared to the shorter analyst and signal ops schools or the 6-yr initial enlistment but I was approved for the off-base housing list within months of my arrival at IAS in SEP80. My ex-husband-to-be, TW, was already residing off-base due to the ‘being married’ bit. Whatev.

Thank the goddess we had the Blue Goose bus back then to run us to Iraklion and The Ville. POVs seemed to be in short supply and those who were smart enough to bring a car over to Crete, were quite popular with the party crowd.  I didn’t really get out much from the dorms despite a few jaunts to The Ville with one boyfriend (who also had a house in Little America – Kokkini Hani) and Iraklion with another boyfriend (who eventually broke my heart into itsy bitsy bits).

The housing office took a scraggly crew of us aboard the Blue Goose to view available houses in MAR81. I really liked a pretty little house in The Ville which actually had – gasp – a telephone but without reliable transportation for shift work, that was a no-go. Same with a few offerings in Iraklion. And as the lyrics to REO Speedwagon’s ‘Keep on Lovin’ You’ twirled repeatedly through my brain, whom do I see trudging along the Old Road? The boyfriend who was breaking my heart.

I clearly remember the cold chill that ran its course through me. I resolutely turned away from the bus window and tried to concentrate on the burgeoning Cretan spring. Daffodils, almond blossoms, lavender, and little thickets of white flowers – plus the gorgeous sky-scraping outline of snow-covered Mt Ida – surely that would distract my sad sack self! Those sights did help a wee bit but the dread of returning to the dorms, acting nonchalant, and knowing that I would have to face said boyfriend on flight the next day kept nibbling at my mind. 

I survived working with the horrid boyfriend and augmented to other flights every chance I could. Other than a brief altercation where he pushed me down a flight of stairs in the women’s dorm, no biggie. But that was much later during the summer of 1981 -- enough of that memory!

Within a week or two of that housing trip, as luck would have it, a tiny house in Little America became available almost immediately thanks to an alert from my network of connections off-base. $100 a month? Doable! Saltwater pool? Excellent! Able, Baker, Charlie, and day whore neighbors? Great!!!

As I had inherited a disgustingly large (for a 20-yr-old) amount of money from my great-grandmother in NOV80, my first order of business was getting top-of-the-line stereo equipment. Remember those huge Pioneer speakers with the little green ‘volume’ lights along the top edge? I LOVED those speakers! A receiver, a turntable, and maybe a cassette player rounded out the entertainment acquisitions. Scrounged a sofa from a PCS-ing couple. The prior tenants left a wardrobe and sold me their transformers. Bookshelves were made from concrete blocks and 2X4s (painted black so they’d look cooler). Can’t remember whom I got the ‘glitter’ 220V lamp from but I loved that thing. Mine had a red base with gold glitter bits but you get the idea!

I bought a ton of flokatis, onyx ornamental tables, lamps, wall hangings, and other stuff from the very accommodating Greek vendor. Finally, a ten-speed bike to ride to/fm base made the transition complete. Of course, if I could scrounge a ride with one of my great Little America neighbors, that was even better. Laundry day also required something other than the ten-speed!

This was a small house – not as small as the nearby corrugated iron one-room with kitchen and bathroom ‘villas’ but it was still small. Opening the bathroom door meant swinging the door against the sink, stepping into the square shower, stepping back onto the tile after swinging the door shut. Pain in the ass! The shower water pressure was equal to a Water-Pic or so it seemed. Annoying for a long-haired femme!

I loved the little front porch and the backyard filled with bright red geraniums.  A few lonely pines sounded lovely when the wind swept through my screen-less french windows. I had an almost perfect view of Dia from the house and the stone wall separating the pool from the stony beach. Little America was THE place to be as far as I was concerned!

My Little Pony -- Twiggy (1970-1976)

Like most young girls, I was obsessed with horses. I read every Walter Farley ‘Black Stallion’ book (17 of ‘em!) and even ‘won’ a 4^th grade writing essay because I lightly traced and shaded a rearing horse on my submission based on the ‘Island Stallion’ book also by Farley. Pegasus was my favorite Greek myth and I even read Westerns just to get more of feel for equines. Yep, I loved reading and ‘riting (and ‘rithmetic a wee bit) all through my school years. But I digress…

In 1970, approximately around the Thanksgiving holiday, my step-father did the only nice thing EVER for me…. He got a pony in exchange for an excavation job in Swampwater (near Sweetwater where I lived)… gotta love those Everglades names! I was 10 years old and so was the sway-backed chestnut and white pinto pony. Ahhhh, she was a beauty! I promptly named her Twiggy. I don’t know why as she didn’t resemble a twig or a 60s super-model in the slightest.

I outgrew Twiggy within a year or two so she more resembled Odin’s horse, Sleipnir, with 6 legs versus 8 when I rode. But I still loved to parade her about as hey, she’s my pony! One of my neighbors, Tammy, had to get the other larger pony at the same farm as I acquired Twiggy. Her pony certainly was not as pretty as mine and unfortunately, it was named Jughead, so probably wasn’t as smart as Twiggy. It irked me that Tammy just had to get a pony as well. Humph. However, she moved to Swampwater so I remained as the Sweetwater pony-owning princess.

Me, Twiggy, T, and Jughead

I remember putting a Santa hat on Twiggy and bringing her in the front door on Christmas – hey, she’s a member of the family too! She was small enough to fit but my Mom was not enthused about having a pony in the living room.

As I worked at the step-fathers cut-rate gas station starting at about the same time I got Twiggy, I didn’t have time to ride her during the summer months as I worked 12-hour days (oi, labor laws! Where was a good child labor advocate when I needed one?). I tethered Twiggy to a post outside the gas station and she promptly ate all the grass to a nub. I got in trouble for that. During the school year, I was up at 5AM to muck out her stall and paddock area (a bit difficult to see horse dumplings in the dark but I managed). I’d usually place a tether ring and long lead in the 10 acre field across from my house and let Twiggy eat maiden cane to her heart’s content. Talk about a fat pony!! I hoped I remembered to water her enough back then… sigh.

Twiggy loved grilled cheese sandwiches, peanut butter sandwiches, and Purina cat food when she could coax some out of me. I would feed her before work (a bucket of oats and a slice of hay) and she’d then whinny at my Mom in order to get MORE food. Little piggy Twiggy!

She had a bad habit of immediately rolling in the dirt after I washed her which sucked as her long tail and mane would then look like crap. I applied horse fly repellant to her during the summer months as those buggers would leave long streaks of blood on her flanks. Twiggy and I went on a few rides with other horse peeps but it was sad that she was the smallest and couldn’t keep up. Not that it mattered because she was the prettiest little pony EVER!

Me and Twiggy -- SEP72

I even tried to breed her with a stallion pony named Pedro. Pedro belonged to the farm across the street from the gas station where I would hang out when not working (smile). This farm used to quarter a small circus during the winter months and I sometimes smile thinking about trumpeting elephants and roaring big cats easily heard in my bedroom. Twiggy would have nothing to do with Pedro and actually bitch-slapped him when he got too close – I don’t know what to call it when a horse smacks another with its front hoof. Experiment – fail. Admittedly, I knew nothing about breeding equines but no one else seemed to know either.

Pretty Twiggy!

I made friends with an older guy who would come into the gas station regularly. He had a beautiful quarter horse named Belinda also was also stabled at the farm across the street. I would ride Twiggy over to Mr Gray’s house and then ride Belinda… was Twiggy jealous? Probably!  I started bringing my friends over to his house because I could sense that he was lonely. Mr Gray was my best friend up til his death when I was 14 or 15… he had a Labrador (Black Dog), tame turtles, several lovebirds, 2 green parrots, and a bunch of cool stuff from his years at Pan Am to look at in his house. He’d always have Yoo-hoos and pastries for us kids to eat and no one even thought about child molestation or the inappropriateness of a bunch of kids at an older man’s house. When Mr Gray died, my school friend, Robin, got the lovely Belinda. I suspect it was because she sucked up to Mr Gray’s relatives and I didn’t – despite the fact that I rode Belinda for years. Oh well… just another lesson in ‘do not trust people’ at an early age.

Me and Belinda

Twiggy was inadvertently the reason I met my first ‘real’ boyfriend – a Sweetwater cop. I was almost 16 years old or so and the parents were up in Tennessee building their house. I think my step-grandmother was ‘babysitting’ me at the time (ugh).  It was raining that day so I went out to the field to check on Twiggy. I about died when a cop wearing a yellow slicker stepped out from a clump of maiden cane and asked me whose horse it was. I thought the entire police crew knew Twiggy as she would sometimes break free and go trotting around the neighborhood eating whatever her pony heart desired.  The Sweetwater cops would show up at 2AM or so and ask me to get her – only a bunch of carrots or a handful of sugar cubes would entice Twiggy close enough for me to grab her halter.

I think it was sometime late in the summer of 1976, just after I told my parents that I was not going to Tennessee and finish high school in their podunk town – nuh uh, no way – that I finally lost my little pony. The parents were gone to finish building or moving into their house. Surprisingly, I had noticed that Twiggy wasn’t on her lead and shortly after that,  I received a phone call that Twiggy had been found in Swampwater and was transported to fricking Hialeah ‘holding pen’ or whatever. Miles away from Sweetwater. And so much for my thinking all the cops knew who the vagrant pony Twiggy belonged to. No car, no horse trailer, no one around to help me get my Twiggy back. I wince every time I remember abandoning my pony and hope with all my heart that she was adopted by a nice family and lived her remaining years noshing on her favorite treats.

I will upload photos of me and Twiggy as well as Belinda, Tammy, and Jughead WHENEVER I get my Epson Artisan 810 All-In-One piece of crap to scan! 

Belinda and her former rider, Twiggy and me

Long ago

May as well begin at the very beginning, aye? I was born in Miami at General Hospital on John Lennon's birthday (seems entertainment was in my future). My mother's maiden name was Bette Davis and my father's name was Raymond Massey; the actor, Raymond Massey, appeared on the TV series Doctor Kildaire.

However, other than providing entertainment at my expense, I've not pursued my supposed calling to either Hollywood or Abbey Road.

How to begin

This is an entirely self-centered blog to regale my friends with odd bits and pieces of my life. Enjoy!