“Dear Linda, “How are you? And Jim? And Psyche? And your little golden cottage? “It’s been an incredibly eventful three months for me. Would you like a brief run-down? (On your mark…get set…) “I quit Pan Am, shifted about Los Angeles, living with friends, families of...

Dazed, I wondered what to do next, since you can’t live in L.A. without a car. An acquaintance of mine took me to see a hideous wreck a friend of his was selling for $50—garishly aqua, it was the size of an ocean liner and had huge fins. We took it out for a cruise,...

With a dawning hopefulness—imagining I was finally embarking on my real life path—I checked out various commercial art schools in L.A. but couldn’t afford the tuition, so I decided to study art at Long Beach State instead. I settled in Sunset Beach, a tiny town south...

Perhaps I should mention that, by this time in my life, my social anxiety disorder had reached such a pitch that I only felt completely at ease with Ella, my boyfriends, and children. When I knew a guy liked me, I was able to be myself, but with other adults I’d...

While I was still a stewardess I dated a cute guy, Jim, who was in dental school and sang in a barbershop quartet. If this style of singing sounds old-fashioned, his group was anything but, their harmonies electrifying. But the truth was I was more attracted to his...

Pan Am had two types of “stand-by” for stewardesses—24-hour, which meant you had to be ready to fly at a moment’s notice, and TACA, which meant you had to be available by phone to accept a flight for the next day. The month I was TACA, I got out a felt pen and started...