Nothing to Rent--First Appeared in the Orinda News

In 1948 there were few Orinda apartments or guest cottages to rent, and those few were taken.  As a new Acalanes teacher, fresh out of college, my options were limited.  It was either commute to my San Francisco home or check out the lone billboard listing for an available room.  I took that room and almost immediately regretted it.  The landlady was elderly and pleasant enough, but she had cats who either had to be in or out, I can’t remember which.  The big problem was the bathtub.  It had a ring almost etched into the enamel.  I took one look and began to cry.  For the next two weeks I commuted every day to the city.  Why I didn’t get out the Dutch Cleanser (no Comet in those days), and scrub it clean, I do not know.

Then a miracle happened.  Helen, another new teacher and an acquaintance from college, invited me to share the room she had found.  I leapt at the opportunity of human companionship and a clean bathtub, and the fun began.  Our room was in the home of a fun-loving divorcee, and life there was never dull.  She would sometimes return from a party when we were leaving for school, but she was a good person whom we enjoyed and appreciated.

The following year we moved up in the world and into a one-room guest house in Walnut Creek.  We painted designs on jelly glasses with nail polish and felt sophisticated and worldly as we entertained our friends.  That guest house had no insulation and was fine in warm weather, but when the days grew cold, we froze.  Dangerous as it might have been, we turned on all the burners of the stove and lit the oven as well.  We were still cold, so it was time to move again.

This time we rented a small section of an eerie old mansion in Orinda whose owner was out of the country.  We were finally warm but frightened.  The only telephone was out in the dark hallway of the main portion of the house, and when it rang we always went together for protection and to drive away the ghosts.  Worse than that were the bats.  When we heard them scrabbling in the walls, I dragged the mattress off my bed and into Helen’s room.  I was uncomfortable but no longer afraid.  On weekends we each went to our family homes and the bright lights of San Francisco.  One Sunday night we returned to find an old railway lantern, lighted and on our doorstep.  The next day at school Helen stood near the cafeteria line and quickly identified the miscreants by their sheepish demeanors.  We received half-hearted apologies and let it go at that.

We felt we had arrived when we took possession of a real apartment.  We liked it so well that we kept it for another year.  Summer was the problem.  We didn’t like paying rent when we wouldn’t be there, so we sublet for a comparable amount.  Our furniture had to go into storage, and because the movers charged by the hour, the two of us carried everything out to the sidewalk.  We awaited the truck among lamps, chairs, and beds to save precious minutes of charge time. 

We had the energy and enterprise to plan a lot of fun events.  Each year we held a Professional Women’s Breakfast for half a dozen faculty friends.  Breakfast was served at six o’clock, and guests were requested to wear hats and gloves.  We drank tomato juice from silver cocktail glasses and danced the hula before leaving for school.  That apartment was also notable for a most romantic reason.  A friend I was dating wanted Helen to meet a friend of his, so we arranged a little dinner party.  I awoke that morning with a case of bronchitis, so bad I had to see a doctor.  He told me to go to bed and stay there, but I explained the importance of the evening.  He shrugged and gave me medications that included Dexedrine to stay awake.  I felt miserable, but the party was a success as Helen met the man she is still married to fifty-one years later.

Nice places to live became increasingly more available after that, and we lived in a little more luxury.  I had a frightful shock when after our joyful years together, Helen abandoned me to get married.  It all turned out happily, because I was married myself a few months later.  Helen and her husband moved to Lafayette, and my spouse and I bought a home in Orinda, and even though we have our own lives and families, we keep in close touch and still laugh over our shared memories.