In 1965 I graduated from Allen High School. That makes me old. Not ancient quite yet but certainly old. But that is not what I am thinking about tonight. I am singing in my mind, which is where I have an absolutely astounding voice, the lyrics to "Monday, Monday". That song was released the year I graduated.
In July of 1965 I started working at Texas Instruments in the integrated circuits department. I worked on third shift in the semiconductor building. My mother worked in the semiconductor building. Shortly after starting to work, the IC department moved into the new north building at the Dallas site of TI. TI provided free coffee and fresh donuts for workers for the coffee breaks.
With no money for college I planned to work for a year then start college. I did not like living at my parents home, so without anyone knowing I found a roommate, rented an apartment and moved in before telling my parents. I bought the car they allowed me to drive. They were furious. I did not care. I was tired of that life. I was ready to not report to anyone, do what I wanted and just have some fun.
Within the first couple of months, my first roommate moved back home. A person from work was looking for a new place to live so Carol Walter moved in. That was the beginning of one heck of a year. I laughingly call it my year of sin. Carol was enough older she could buy liquor legally. I took my first drink during that year. We went nightclubbing even though I was only 18 to 19 years old.
We decorated the apartment in avocado green, gold and orange. We made a trip to Galveston. We dated friends, We cut down a cedar tree and drug it back to the apartment for our Christmas tree. We bought decorations at Sun Drug in Richardson. We made friends with guys in the apartment complex. We even hit one of the guys with a pie plate full of whipping cream. Goofy, silly fun.
Not being "a looker", I did not date much in high school. That year between July 1965 to August of 1966, I had my share of dates and beaus. Of course that all changed the one August night I opened the door of the apartment and met Mr. Wonderful. Within weeks I was down to one guy named Gene.
With the death of Neal Armstrong, I think back to the late 1960's. The Mamas and The Papas have only one member still alive. Geeze, I am old. But when I am singing, then in my mind I am still that young, silly girl looking for some fun in the late summer of 1965 and dreaming of a wonderful future. Bada badadada, Bada badadada, Bada badadada, Monday, Monday.........