High 70s on the Orange Coast

July 4, 1976

Drawn by the blare of the music, Renee wove her way through the crowded barn of teens and early twenty-somethings toward the stage. The band’s rendition of “Heartbreaker” by the Rolling Stones called her closer.

She recognized them. It was Southerly. They played the clubs in Orange County and some of the bigger parties around town. Her gaze fell on the lead guitar player, Paul Holloway. There and then, Renee made up her mind. He was going to be her first. Probably not tonight. Best not tonight. But when? She would figure that out later.

She caught his eye; she caught everyone’s eye whether they were looking or not. It made Renee uncomfortable. Were they staring at her boobs, her long dark hair, her round ass, or her killer tan? She could never tell, but when it came to guys, it was always her tits they were staring at. In sixth grade, Jimmy McCabe began calling her “Dairy Maid” after the milk company. She never told her parents. Her brother died earlier that year, and she avoided any topic that might upset them. She didn’t tell her teacher either. She kept it inside and added it to the list of things she hated about herself.

She raised her eyes at Paul, and smiled. Renee was wrong, it was her caramel brown eyes that people noticed first. He nodded and smiled back. “Yep, this is happening” she said to herself. Renee raised her camera and took some shots of the band.

“Renee!”

She turned around. The darkness inside the barn made it hard to see. There were scattered lanterns by the kegs in the back where she entered, while the brightest lights powered by the massive generator illuminated the stage.

Kevin pushed his way forward. He was impossible to miss when he wore that tan trench coat from the 1930s that once belonged to his grandfather. It practically matched his light brown wavy hair that he wore in a ponytail. The coat’s many pockets were ideal for concealing the variety of stash he carried. Kevin had a tall girl with a shoulder-length golden blond shag in tow. Renee recognized the girl from her summer school Driver’s Ed class. She had noticed her around school the past few months and in the woods, but they had never talked or partied together. The girl was a Nordic beauty. Almost six-foot-tall, Cori stood out from the crowd before ever uttering a word. And once she spoke up, with her lyrical voice and sarcastic wit, Cori was impossible to forget.

“Renee,” said Kevin, “this is Cori. Cori – Renee.”

“Hey! You’re from class,” said Cori.

Kevin lit a joint, hit it, and passed it to Renee. She took a hit and passed it to Cori. The circle continued.

The band had moved on to White Rabbit. “One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small. And the ones that mother gives you, don’t do anything at all. Go call Alice..,”

“Do you want the red pill, the blue pill, or the orange pill?” asked Kevin.

“I want the orange pill,” said Renee.

“Good choice, since those are the only ones I have.” He pulled a film container from an interior pocket and emptied three small, round, orange tabs into his hand. “You take the acid, and in an hour or so you will start to come on. It should be subtle at first with an enhancement of color and sound, and from there the experience varies from person to person.”

“How long does it last?” asked Cori.

“Eight to ten hours.”

Renee had talked to a few kids at school about acid and was anxious to try it, but this was happening fast. Her pulse had increased and her mouth became dry, more than just cotton mouth.

“Is everyone here going to be on acid,” asked Cori.

“Pretty much,” said Kevin. “It’s kind of the point of tonight’s gathering, but there’s always a few people who play it straight to keep an eye on things and babysit anyone having a bad trip.” He glanced around the barn, looking for someone. “No pressure, if you’re not comfortable I totally understand.”

Cori and Renee looked at each other again. “I’ve been wanting to trip,” said Cori. “I just don’t know what to expect.”

“It’s simple,” said Kevin. “Keep your head in a positive space, expect only the best, and good things will come your way.”

“Okay,” Cori turned to Renee. “Let’s do this.”

Renee stuck out her tongue, and Kevin placed an orange tab on it like a priest handing out communion wafers. Cori followed suit. Kevin took the last tab. “Suck on it,” said Kevin. “Let it melt your mind away.”

Kevin threw his arms around both girls, initiating a group hug. He lifted his hand to wave at someone behind them. “I gotta go catch up with Chris. I’ll check on you later.” He handed Renee a joint and wandered off.

“How do you know Kevin?” asked Renee.

“He rides my bus.”

“You live by Gates school?”

“We moved there a few months ago, at the beginning of fourth quarter.”

“Where from?”

“San Diego area.”

“I moved here from Anaheim at the beginning of the school year.”

“Has it been easy to make friends?”

“Guy friends,” said Renee. “Most of the girls in El Toro are total bitches.”

“Right!” said Cori. “They hang out in their little cliques terrified that the new girl is going to steal their lame-ass boyfriend.”

“Seriously! For the first few months, the only friend I had was my neighbor Darrell. I finally started meeting some of the kids in my classes and eventually got invited out to the woods.”

“I discovered the woods like a month ago,” said Cori. “It was life-changing!”

“I get that,” said Renee. “I’ve seen you there and around school.”

“I’ve noticed you too. How do you know Kevin?”

“He’s in my art class, and we have a mutual friend,” said Renee. “What made you sign up for summer school?”

“I failed algebra, and since I was already going to be there, I decided to take Driver’s Ed so I could get my license as soon as I turn 16 in November.”

“Same here. My birthday is in December. I’m also taking photography.”

“I guess that explains the camera around your neck.”

They got caught up in the music and lost track of time. Renee’s long skirt swayed to the melody as she worked her hips in a figure-eight motion, while Cori moved to the rhythm of the bass guitar.

“Do you know this band?” asked Renee.

“I do. I mean I’ve seen them around, at parties.”

“I’m in love with the guitar player,” said Renee. “Not in love, but..”

“He’s so fucking hot,” said Cori. “Every girl south of Irvine has a crush on him.”

“I’m not alone then.”

“He’s looking at you!”

Renee glanced up and caught his eye again. She smiled.

“Shit! Be careful,” said Cori, “or you’ll be next conquest. He’s probably fucked half the bitches north of Oceanside.”

“And south of Irvine!” They both laughed.

“That’s so Southerly!” said Renee.

Cori repeated, “That’s so Southerly.” They began laughing again and couldn’t stop. They looked around to see if anyone else was laughing, but it was just them.

“Have you started tripping?” asked Renee.

“It hasn’t even been an hour. I feel a little odd, but I’m not hallucinating or anything. I just feel super happy.”

“I’m feeling really high now,” said Renee.

“Like how?”

“It’s hard to explain,” said Renee. “The lights all have halos. Rainbow halos. I don’t want to look away. And the music. I feel it more than I hear it.”

“You mean the acoustics?” asked Cori.

“No. It’s like I feel the music coming out through my skin. And the lights are coming through my skin too, but the opposite way. The music and the lights, it’s like they are coming together through me. I’m blending into light and sound. Shit!”

“You are tripping! Your pupils are so big, I can’t even see your irises. Are you good?” asked Cori.

“Never been better.” Someone grabbed Renee’s shoulders from behind. She squealed loud enough to startle the band.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mateo swung Renee around. “Chica, you are so high. You took the sunshine, no?” He gently put his left hand around her waist and took her hand to lead her in a slow dance as the band played “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”

“Who’s your friend, Chica?”

“Her name is Cori. We have Driver’s Ed together.”

“Now? You mean summer school?” he asked. “Why waste your vacation in school?”

“What else is there to do? The beach is overcast until noon most days. Besides, if I take summer school this year and next, and get credit for work experience, I can graduate a year early.”

“You got plans, Chica. And then what? After you graduate?”

“Move out!” said Renee. “Get away from my parents.”

“Introduce me to your friend,” said Mateo. Their dancing had stopped, but he continued to hold her hand.

“Cori, this is Mateo Ramirez.”

“Are you one of the Ramirez brothers?” asked Cori.

“We are brothers. We are cousins. Every Ramirez in El Toro is related,” said Mateo.

Cori stared at Mateo. She had noticed him at school. No one could miss the long black braid that passed the middle of his back. He was close to six-foot tall with a trim, athletic build.

Mateo dropped Renee’s hand and picked up Cori’s. He danced her in a circle, leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies, but I must attend to business.” Mateo kissed Cori on the hand and then did the same to Renee and walked off.

“What just happened?” asked Cori.

“I would say he likes you.”

“I’m really high and feeling overwhelmed by all these people. It’s so crowded.”

Renee grabbed Cori’s hand – still damp from the kiss – and led her out through a side door.

It was cooler than the crowded barn. Renee could feel the mild night air fill her lungs. She looked back at the barn. It was old – probably over 100 years. Old man Samuelson would be rolling over in his grave if he knew his grandsons had volunteered the property for tonight’s event. It must have been decades since this place was a working ranch. There were numerous out-buildings on the property. The main house had burned down years ago. Renee was not even sure exactly where she was. Darrell had taken the 5 south to Ortega Highway, turned off somewhere, then drove another 20 minutes. Where was Darrell now? Would he leave without her? Did it matter? Someone would get her home or at least back to El Toro, where she could figure it out from there. There were close to 50 cars parked haphazardly in the field surrounding the barn.

“Check out the stars.” Cori interrupted her thoughts. “It’s like they’re shooting beams at me. Do you see them?”

“I do,” said Renee.

They found a grassy area. Renee untied the tapestry that she had wrapped around her gypsy-style skirt. She spread it on the ground. Both girls carefully lowered themselves and laid side-by-side starring at the sky.

All the stars were pointing their brightness at Renee, into her, through her. She felt the tingle of every individual star beam anointing her. When she tried to focus on a single beam of light, it widened into a rainbow of colors that evolved into a kaleidoscope of patterns.

Cori grabbed her hand. “Let’s go explore.” Renee picked up the tapestry and shook it out. They wandered along a path through the semi-darkness, stopping to admire the way the moonlight accentuated a bush or tree. The leaves were expanding and shrinking as they inhaled the universal energy and expelled it in waves. They came upon a couple making out on a blanket and turned around to give them privacy.

Soon the barn came back into view. Numerous small groups had gathered around a circular clearing, the ring where they trained horses a lifetime ago. Some guys began lighting fireworks. The girls leaned back against the stables to watch the show. The explosive sounds were startling, a whistle followed by a large boom. The smell of sulfur filled the air. The colors and patterns mesmerized the watchers. Greens and golds, along with red, white, and blue to commemorate the special day – the Bicentennial. Every blast of light and color froze time. With each burst, the universe expanded – molecule by molecule. It was exhilarating, breathtaking, life-changing.

“Hey! Is that Marty Castillo’s blue Corvair driving away? That’s my ride,” said Cori.

“It’s okay. You can come home with me,” said Renee.

They wandered back into the barn. The band had stopped playing, and it was less crowded. Still, it was overwhelming. All the faces were luminescent. Everyone’s eyes were disproportionately large. Renee could see an orb of light surrounding everyone’s body. The guitar player approached her.

“This will be the party everyone remembers this summer,” he said.

“Because of the band?” said Renee.

“That, and the acid, and the day, the Bicentennial and all. My name is Paul – by the way.”

“Renee.”

“Where do you go to school, Renee?”

“El Toro.”

While they were talking, Cori climbed onto the stage and picked up the bass guitar. She tested the amp and started picking out a beat. People gathered around the stage. The owner of the bass sprinted over from across the barn. Paul waved him off. “She’s pretty good,” he said. The bass owner nodded reluctantly. “Looks like I’m back on,” said Paul as he jumped on stage with Cori and started playing along. The drummer showed up and added his part to the mix. Eventually something resembling “Smoke on the Water” was taking shape. The bass player – who was also the lead singer – grabbed the mic to fill out the ensemble. Renee managed to capture a few pictures. When the song ended, Cori handed the bass back to its owner, thanked him, and jumped down from the stage.

“You’re really good!” said Renee.

“I don’t know what got into me,” said Cori. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

A guy with a dark brown David Cassidy-style shag came up from behind. “We’ve got to split Renee. It’s past midnight.”

“Cori’s coming with us.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Darrell.

“Hey! Can I get your number?” Paul yelled to Renee.

“256-7236.”

As they walked toward Darrell’s car, a worried look came over Cori. “I was supposed to crash with Marty’s sister Angie…”

“You can stay at my house,” said Renee.

“Will your parents mind?”

Renee shrugged, “My parents will never notice.”

Darrell led Cori to his Chevy Nova. It was jacked up in back, painted midnight blue, and detailed inside and out. As Cori climbed into the back seat, Renee turned around and took one last look at the remains of the party. The band was loading their equipment into a van. Some guy was dousing the firework scraps with a bucket of water. The kegs were being loaded into another van. Renee felt a warm hand cup her right butt-cheek, and she swung around. It was Wayne Snyder, one of the football players. She pushed him back with both hands.

He grabbed her arm. “Why are you leaving with that faggot?” said Wayne. “I’ll get you home.”

“Go to hell,” said Renee. She could smell beer and whisky on his breath.

“Let her go.” Mateo came up from behind. Wayne turned to face Mateo and his Chicano posse. He dropped his hand from Renee’s arm, looked her in the eyes and said, “Another time then.”

“Dream on asshole,” said Renee, flipping him the bird.

Mateo nodded at Darrell as Renee got into the passenger seat.

Driving down the winding road that is Ortega Highway, Renee and Cori were again captivated by the moon shadows that illuminated the road through the trees. Once on the interstate, the car lights became overwhelming. Darrell got off on the El Toro Road exit just as an ambulance with flashing lights and a loud siren pulled up behind them. “Oh my God! Oh my God,” repeated Renee. Cori and Renee gasped for air as the ambulance sped around the Nova, and made a right on El Toro Road, heading toward Saddleback Hospital.

“That was so crazy,” said Renee.

“I almost peed my pants,” confessed Cori.

“Are you two going to be okay? asked Darrell.

“Totally,” said Renee. “This is the best night of my life.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Renee giggled as she maneuvered the key in the lock. The house was silent.

Like everyone, Cori was taken aback when she entered. Renee’s mother Janelle had planned it that way. The furniture was large and expensive – a thoughtfully-curated mix of antiques and modern. But it was the art that caught everyone’s attention. Grandma Catherine was a renowned painter – well-known in upstate New York. Most of her work consisted of landscapes of the Hudson River Valley, but she painted family portraits as well.

“Who’s in that picture?” Cori pointed to a huge canvas above the fireplace.

“The girl is my sister Rochelle. She was 12 then; now she’s 27 and married with four-year-old twin girls. She lives in Santa Monica with her lawyer husband. The boy is my brother Randy. He died three years ago. He’d be 22.”

“What happened?”

“Skiing accident.”

“I’m sorry. That’s fucked up.”

“You have no idea.” Renee inhaled deeply, centering herself.

“You look a lot different than your siblings.”

“I get that a lot. I take after my Jewish grandmother.”

“You’re Jewish?”

“On my dad’s side. I guess you missed my last name in class, Hirsch.”

“That’s a Jewish name?”

“Very much so! My father’s entire family died in the Holocaust.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Everyone is.”

Cori couldn’t stop herself from touching everything: the smooth marble table in the living room, the crushed velvet material on the royal blue side chairs, the ridges of wood on the kitchen table. “Do you see it?” asked Cori. “The grains of wood are flowing like rivers. Tiny rivers.”

Renee looked at the table. “I see it. Hundreds and thousands of miniscule streams, all in different colors, flowing in different directions.” She looked up at Cori and became captivated by her smile. “You’re crying.” Tears gently flowed down Cori’s cheeks.

“So are you.” Cori reached out and with her right hand slowly wiped away the tears on Renee’s cheek.

After showing Cori the common areas downstairs, Renee led Cori into her suite, which was divided into two spaces: a sitting room and a bedroom area large enough to fit her king-size water bed with its elaborate worm-wood headboard and blue-velvet, patchwork bedspread. Her antique dresser and the vanity Renee used as a desk once belonged to her dad’s Aunt Hannah, as did the deep purple sofa that looked out onto the lake.

“What is all this?” Cori swirled with her arms spread wide.

“They call it a mother-in-law suite, but it’s all mine. This is my lounge area, and that’s my bedroom. The bathroom is through there.”

Cori threw herself onto the waterbed. “This is a totally bitchin’ space. I have to share a room less than half this size with my aunt, and I’m not counting that whole lounge area.”

“Stay here. I need to go upstairs to check on my mother and let her know I’m home.” Renee left the suite and quietly made her way up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later with a Yorkshire Terrier scampering close behind. “This is Sparky.” The dog began jumping all over Cori.

They were spellbound by the canine. Her bright eyes had them entranced, and her energy was contagious. “It’s like her fur is electric and is growing right in front of us,” said Cori. Sparky repeatedly lunged at both girls, excited for the attention. She was like a magical beast. The energy radiating from that ten-pound ball of fluff reaffirmed to Renee and Cori the connectedness of all forms of life: human, animal, vegetable, even mineral.

“Is that the lake?” Cori looked through the sliding glass door that led outside to the backyard. Renee opened the door and Sparky ran outside to pee, returning immediately.

The girls played albums, smoked weed, and talked through the night. Around 3 a.m. they broke into the liquor cabinet. Renee poured two glasses of orange juice that she topped off with a couple shots of vodka. By 4 a.m. they were finally coming down from their acid trip. They shared another joint, and by 5 a.m., they were sound asleep.

*****

Renee’s father Ben opened the draperies. “It’s past noon, time to get up, Renee! The day is slipping away.”

Cori stirred next to Renee, catching Ben’s attention. “Who do we have here?”

“It’s Cori, a friend from school. She crashed here last night.”

“Okay then,” said Ben. “I’m making pancakes. Come and eat.”

Cori rolled over to face Renee. “Is everything cool?”

“Seriously, they don’t care,” said Renee. “Are you hungry? My dad makes the best pancakes.”

The trio sat around the patio dining table with a view of the man-made lake. Ben placed three pancakes on everyone’s plate. A variety of fancy syrups from Knott’s Berry Farm decorated the tabletop. Compared to the brilliance of the previous night, the morning after appeared dull and muted. The sun glistened on the lake, the smell of jasmine filled the air, a family of ducks swam by. The world seemed boring and painfully ordinary.

“Apricot is my favorite,” announced Renee as she drizzled the syrup over her breakfast.

Cori poured apricot on one pancake, boysenberry on another, and maple on the last. “I like your style,” said Ben, who was filling their glasses with fresh orange juice from a glass pitcher.

“These are amazing,” said Cori. “My mom only makes the Bisquick kind. Yours are so much better.”

“You are very welcome, dear,” said Ben. “Which class do you have with Renee? I don’t recall her mentioning you before.”

Cori was eating heartily, “We have Driver’s Ed.”

Ben served the girls an additional pancake. Cori settled on maple syrup for her last one. She was mesmerized by Ben’s voice, his European accent. He was older, but fit, over 50 she assumed. Clean-shaven and completely bald on top, Ben had a ring of closely-cropped salt and pepper hair that encircled his head like Julius Caesar. He had a sophisticated charm that women like her mom could easily fall for.

Renee’s mother sauntered down the stairs. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Cori,” said Ben. “She goes to school with Renee.”

Janelle stiffened up slightly, mentally evaluating the state of her loungewear and bare face. She lifted her chin and proceeded toward the girls. “Hello Cori, or is it Corinne,” she asked with a smile.

“Hi Mrs. Hirsch. I answer to both. It’s nice to meet you.”

Janelle gave Cori the once over, assessing her social status as she examined her clothing and demeanor. “Call me Janelle,” she insisted. “You remind me of my daughter – my older daughter,” she corrected herself.

Cori looked at Renee, who shrugged.

“Similar hair and very similar build,” Janelle clarified. “Come over here, I’ll show you her picture.” Cori followed Janelle into the living room. “Here is Rochelle’s high school portrait, and here is a more recent photo with her beautiful daughters, Amber and Andie, short for Andrea. God, I love those girls!”

Cori investigated the numerous photos on display, stopping on Randy’s senior portrait.

“I bet Renee never even mentioned her brother,” Janelle said, “He died in an accident.”

“She told me about him. I didn’t realize how handsome he was.”

Janelle gleamed. “He was the love of my life.” She paused briefly, “Come upstairs, I’ll show you his baby picture.” Cori followed Janelle to the stairs and turned back to look at Renee.

“You can come too,” Janelle said with a slight laugh. Renee followed behind silently.

Janelle was like a crap shoot. You never knew how the dice would land. She could be lovely and charming, she could be wicked and cruel, or she could be cold and distant. Since her brother’s death, Renee often hesitated to invite friends over.

Double doors led to the master suite: a stunning mix of dark wood furniture and turquoise blue fabric. A massive four-poster bed looked out upon the lake. Fine art lined the walls. There was an adjoining sitting room with matching barrel-shaped chairs and ottomans that faced a TV. A wet bar with a small refrigerator was on the opposite wall. Another sliding door led to the huge balcony overlooking the lake.

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Hirsch; I mean Janelle,” said Cori. “I can’t even imagine living somewhere like this. Really, these two rooms are half the size of our entire house.”

Janelle smiled. She led Cori over to her dresser where there were two similar frames with bronze baby shoes attached at the bottom: Rochelle and Randy. “They were adorable!” Cori exclaimed, “Where’s Renee’s baby picture?”

“Oh, most of Renee’s baby things were lost when we moved from Santa Monica to Anaheim in ‘64.”

Ben entered the room. “How about Italian food for dinner?”

“Pizza?” asked Renee.

“No, there’s a new place in Laguna called Salerno’s, a friend recommended it. What do you think, Janelle?”

“Sure,” she replied.

Cori was enamored with Ben’s French accent, especially the way he said Janelle. It sounded like Channel, but with a “shjə” at the beginning: shjə-nel. She could listen to him all day.

Ben turned to Cori, “Call your parents and let them know that you will be our guest tonight.”

When the girls turned to leave, Janelle said, “Stay and talk to me while I get ready, Cori. Use my phone; it’s on the nightstand.” While Cori made the call, Janelle proceeded to strip down to her lacy black bra and underwear. She took a tailored navy-blue dress out of her massive walk-in closet, put it on, and sat down at her vanity. “Do you wear make-up, Cori? My daughter used to love watching me put my face on.”

“You mean Rochelle?” Renee teased.

“Renee, you could look so pretty if you only put a little effort into yourself.” Turning to Cori she added, “You’re a natural beauty, Cori.”

They sat on the bed watching Janelle transform herself from attractively plain to strikingly beautiful: concealer, foundation, blush, eye shadow, mascara, lip stick. All the while she talked about her beauty pageant and stewardess days. She fluffed up her long blond shag, teasing the back to get more height. When she was done, Janelle insisted on dolling up Cori. “Just a little blush and eye shadow, it will be fun,” Janelle insisted.

“You don’t have to let her do this, Cori,” said Renee. “Leave her alone, Mom.”

“It’s okay,” said Cori, “I’m curious to see what I could look like. Would you mind if I showered first?

“Of course,” said Janelle. “Go clean up. We’ll have fun!”

Renee rolled her eyes and led Cori downstairs to her bathroom. After showering, they returned. Renee laid back on the bed rather than watch the spectacle of her mother giving her new friend a full makeover.

“I have a dress that would look perfect on you,” said Janelle, as she went back into the closet returning with a floral sundress from the 1950s. “Put it on,” she said to Cori.

Cori stripped down to her white cotton underwear and Playtex, granny bra. Janelle closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. “Those won’t work.” She selected a fancy bra and hip-hugger panties, and handed them to Cori. “Try these.” Cori did as she was told.

“The dress is perfect on you. Renee is too short – and busty – to properly fit into any of my clothes. It’s a shame really.”

“That really does look great on you,” Renee agreed.

“Renee, will you please change out of that t-shirt at the very least,” said Janelle.

Renee knew it was not a request and went downstairs to change.

While Rochelle could be her mother’s twin, with her olive complexion and dark brown hair, Renee looked nothing like Janelle. Ben told her that she took after her maternal grandmother Lena who died in Auschwitz. She was even named after her – Renee Marlena Hirsch. As a child, Renee could be dressed up to play the perfect daughter role, but she could never compete with her mother’s beauty, or her older sister’s. When Rochelle was young, she and Janelle frequently wore matching outfits, and in 1957, they won the Santa Monica mother-daughter look-alike contest. Janelle had no interest in attempting to style Renee to look like her. It was pointless.

When they moved to El Toro, Renee forged her own style. To spite her mother, she quit wearing make-up, stopped shaving her legs, and only wore Levi’s and t-shirts or flowing skirts and halter tops. She assumed the persona of a hippie beach bum – a look that mortified Janelle. It was the first battle Renee had won.

(C) Joyce O'Day 2023. All Rights Reserved.