Della - Part 2

My prior post was about a girl I knew at Keesler AFB back in 1973 who I've been calling "Della" even though I'm pretty sure that wasn't her actual name (I'm drawing a blank.)

Quick aside: Speaking of girls at Keesler - there were rumors that there was a brothel operating out of one of the women's dorms there... I never made any effort to check it out but a decade later there was a scandal involving a prostitution ring being run by some officers there, so it does seem plausible (although not particularly relevant to the topic at hand).

And back to Della:

I think there were 3 main reasons that (over time) she grew to trust me. First, I never tried to go beyond kissing (and I only did that when she initiated it). Second, she realized she could not manipulate me. (Compared to my mother and sister she was a rank amateur.) And finally, I think she sensed that I genuinely cared about her... And when you put it all together that made me the last guy on earth she wanted to be romantically involved with... Yeah - go figure :-)

First story - actually more of a recollection than a story:
Della spent a lot of time hanging around with older guys but (as it turned out) she was much more interested in boys her own age. The problem was she couldn't make sense out of how they behaved toward her... I remember having long conversations with her about high school and rumors and peer pressure and stuff, but my basic message was: (a) she didn't need to try to be liked; (b) regardless of how they acted, any teenage boy who didn't find her attractive was probably gay; and (b) if you accept the fact that teenage boys are brainless twits everything else becomes self-explanatory :-)

Second Story:
I have to admit that one of the reasons I enjoyed hanging around with Della was the way other guys looked at me when we were together. (Yes - I realize how shallow that is)... It was kind of like when I was having dinner with Stan "The Man" Musial at his restaurant - all the other kids stared at me with that same look on their faces.

So one day when we were marching back from school I noticed that Della was waiting on the sidewalk across from the dorm. She was all done up and wearing a very short bright yellow dress (she looked absolutely amazing), and she appeared to be really excited about something. (Of course, by the time we came to a halt pretty much everyone had noticed her.)
When the yellow rope yelled "Dismissed!" Della came running across the street and jumped up into my arms (almost knocked me over), and started whispering "I'm so happy!" into my ear over and over... (At that point there were about 100 guys staring and they all had that look on their faces.)

She finally calmed down enough to explain that a few months earlier her foster parents had filed adoption papers without telling her (I assume they didn't want to get her hopes up) and that morning they got word it had been approved and they all went to the courthouse to make it official.

Aside: When a foster child turns 18 (or 21 in some states) they "age out" of the system (the state will no longer provide money for their care). So unless their last foster family is willing to start supporting them they end up on the streets... Being adopted means having a family for life, and for someone like Della who never had a real home that was unimaginably huge.

BTW: The sergeant and his wife were incredibly nice people. There were unable to have children of their own and had already adopted a Vietnamese girl (war orphan, around 7 years old - who had really bonded with Della)... Also, even though they gave Della quite a bit of slack you could tell that was extremely difficult for them. (Despite her level of self-reliance she still did stupid things from time to time.)
Yeah - I recall that first time Juneau and I met the sarge. We had a brief conversation about nothing in particular and he seemed to have (rightly) concluded that neither one of us was the type of guy who would hurt Della in any way - so I guess we passed muster :-)

There are a couple of more stories to tell, but I'll leave them for the next post... Then I can finally get on with stories of life on (and around) Keesler AFB...