Memoirs from the San Fernando Valley

Remember that scene from Back to the Future where Marty McFly and Doc Brown discover that certain incident in 1955, if it doesn’t happen, will alter the space time continuum and change everyone’s future? That one small moment in time where Marty’s father, George, kisses his future wife, Lorraine (Marty’s mother) at the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance? Do you ever wonder what little things in your life, if they had gone differently, would have seriously altered the course of yours as well as many other people’s futures? Well...I do.

We were talking about this just the other day. Specifically...I was talking about it to Loretta. She was just listening and humoring me while I went on about the laws of chance, past events, quantum physics, and alternate futures.

Anyway, I decided there was one defining moment in my life. One thing that happened to me that, more than any other event, changed my life and probably many other lives as well. It happened on January 24th, 1966. I remember the date because it was two days before my 16th birthday. That day more than 40 years ago, was when I met with my guidance counselor...to talk about my future.

My guidance counselor’s name was Mr. Fields...Morris Fields. He was also a Student Government teacher. I never had Fields as a teacher. I never took Student Government...I thought it was for eggheads and kiss-asses (of course, I was off-base with this assumption as well). Little did I know until years later, that was one of the classes best suited for finding a chick...the girl/boy ratio was about 5 to 1 in Student Government.

Mr. Fields was the consummate weasel teacher. It seemed he was always prowling the halls and busting kids for not having hall passes. Chastising them for not being where they were supposed to be, lecturing them about “discipline” and the like (remember Mr. Strickland from Back to the Future?). Fields wore thick horn-rimmed glasses, and always had a silly smirk on his lips...especially when he was dishing out that hallway punishment. His thinning, half-gray hair was punctuated by a huge, bulbous forehead that accentuated his big, bushy, constantly moving eyebrows. Just above one of those eyebrows was a large, spongy-looking mole of sorts with several long hairs growing out of it. His dumbo-eared head was set neatly on top of a pencil neck jutting out of a scrawny, five foot three frame. He always wore the same tweed suit coat, black slacks, and a colored sweater vest. The soft, gum-soled suede shoes allowed him to chase down errant students who weren’t behaving properly. I suspected he collected stamps and spent a good deal of time in the faculty men's’ room masturbating to a picture of a young, blonde biology teacher named Miss Krokie. That was only a theory of mine though.

I arrived at Mr. Fields office at 9:30 and he invited me to have a seat in front of his desk. The conversation went something like this...

Fields: Hello, Jim. How are we doing today?
Me: Fine.
Fields: How is everything going for you?
Me: Well...they ran out of Sticky Buns at brunch in the cafeteria before I could get one. Is that what you mean?
Fields: Well...no, Jim. I was thinking more of how things are going for you here at Canoga Park High...with school. How are you doing in school?
Me: Pretty good.
Fields: Well, it doesn’t look like it from your record here.
Me: Really?
Fields: Yes. Not only did you not score very well on your SAT scores...your grade point average is...well, not much to speak of.
Me: Really? I thought I was doing O.K.
Fields: Not to mention the fact that you recently got suspended for three days.
Me: Oh...that.
Fields: It says here that you used profanity at a school dance.
Me: Yeah, I know. I said “F**k that bitch” to an old girlfriend...and Mrs. Cool heard me.
Fields: Jim...we won’t have that sort of talk in here.
Me: She wouldn’t say “Hi” back to me. What the heck should I have said?
Fields: Now, now!
Me: If I had said “Now, now that bitch”...everyone would have laughed at me!
Fields: I see. Ah...Jim...what do you want to do when you graduate from high school?
Me: I want to be a cinematographer.
Fields: A cinematographer?
Me: Yes...a cinematographer.
Fields: What is a cinematographer?
Me: It’s a guy who makes movies. I’ve always wanted to do that. I make eight millimeter films now.
Fields: Really. Like...in the movie business?
Me: Yeah...like in the movie business.
Fields: Hmmm. Well, Jim, let me ask you this...
Me: Ask me what?
Fields: I haven’t asked you yet.
Me: O.K.
Fields: Do you know what it takes to get into the movie business?
Me: No.
Fields: Does your family have a lot of money?
Me: No.
Fields: Do you know anyone in the movie business?
Me: No.
Fields: Do you know what kind of grade point average and SAT scores it takes to get into USC film school?
Me: No.
Fields: What chance do you think you have making it in the movie business?
Me: Ah...
Fields: You should get in the engineering field. We need engineers. Especially petroleum engineers. That’s where the future is!

Honestly, I don’t remember much of the conversation beyond this point. I became flushed, lightheaded, and my lips began to quiver. I bolted out of Mr. Fields office, got on my 10-speed Huffy bike, and rode home...skipping the rest of my classes. When I got home, I locked myself in my room, and didn’t come out for a year and a half. And...never made another eight millimeter film after that.

Well, I did graduate from high school. Went on to two years of community college taking mostly general education courses. Of course, I rarely went to class and never did my homework in college either...just like high school. The next 40 years were a series of unfortunate events and bad choices. Fast forward to tonight, writing this blog.

If I could get in a souped up DeLorean time machine, I would go back to January 24th, 1966...finish that conversation with my guidance counselor...and do a few things differently. Here is how that Back to the Future exchange between myself and Mr. Fields would go.

Fields: You should get in the engineering field. We need engineers...
Me: Hang on just a minute Fields. I got news for you!
Fields: Excuse me?
Me: You see. Despite your crass analysis of my future, and your uncompromising, insensitive demeanor...I am going to film school. I am going to make movies. In fact, in the year following my graduation from USC film school, I am going to make a documentary that will be applauded at the Sundance Film Festival. Soon after that, a major studio is going to buy the screenplay I wrote...and, ask me to direct it. That film will win an Oscar for Best Screenplay and Best Director. It will be nominated for Best Picture, but will lose out to The Godfather. But, Francis Ford Coppola will finance my next three movies. I will retire from directing in 1986 and concentrate on developing new film projects from new writers and directors. I will move to Carmel and write six best-selling novels there.

This, Mr. Fields, is as far as you are going to go in your teaching career. Next semester, a fellow teacher will catch you jerking off in the faculty men’s room. Although there will be no disciplinary action, you will endure constant ridicule from the rest of the staff as well as the student body. So much so, that you will begin therapy sessions for manic depression that will continue until your wife leaves you in 1979. She will run off to Greece with an abalone fisherman. You will retire from teaching and become an Amway salesman. In 1982, you will go on a Parents Without Partners singles cruise to Ensenada...fall off the boat near La Jolla...and seals will eat you. I, on the other hand, will be coaxed out of retirement in 2007 to write and direct and movie based on my book, “Memoirs from the San Fernando Valley”. There will be a scene in the movie where the main character meets with his 11th grade guidance counselor...and he tries to steer him wrong. I’m thinking I may get this actor named Danny Devito to play you...but he’s a little too tall. For the part of the main character...what about Dustin Hoffman? Maybe not...he’s a bit too short for this part!