Blinded by the Smoke (eBook)

Linda Stefko (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2022 | 1. Auflage
500 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-5329-1 (ISBN)

Blinded by the Smoke by Linda Stefko is a cautionary tale spotlighting the turmoil of the late 1960's and its effect on middle-class American youth. The story of Sharon Quinn, her friends, and family, focuses on love, commitment, and friendship. The novel offers strong messages concerning alcoholism, college fraternity hazing, and the Vietnam War. In 1969, Sharon is a sophomore at a small fictional college in western Pennsylvania. After her boyfriend, Jerry, leaves for a tour of duty in Vietnam, she searches for the true meaning of commitment. Her devotion is challenged by the charms of a campus romeo, who adds chaos and adventure into her life. Sharon and her friends test boundaries when exposed to the campus party culture common at the time. Some suffer for it. Their lives are intertwined with the popular culture and music of the time, which raises questions. Was an entire generation led by the pied pipers of rock n roll? Did they find meaning in their religion of music and a philosophy of life in the Top 40?

Blinded by the Smoke by Linda Stefko is a coming of age story as well as a cautionary tale, and a fictional foray into the lives of middle-class daughters and sons of the late 1960's in western Pennsylvania. It offers strong messages concerning alcoholism, college fraternity hazing, and the Vietnam War. The struggles of Sharon Quinn and her friends mirror a nation caught up in an unpopular war and changing beliefs. Youthful rebellion and new expressions of these beliefs are reflected in their music and culture, led by the pied pipers of rock n roll who brand an entire generation with life's new Top 40 philosophies. After Sharon's boyfriend, Jerry, leaves for Vietnam to serve in the army, she searches for the true meaning of love, belonging, and commitment. Her devotion to Jerry is challenged by a campus charmer named Jim, who adds adventure and chaos into her life. She and her college friends test boundaries and explore freedoms when exposed to the campus party culture common at the time. Some suffer for it. Subplots woven into the college setting involve depression, alcoholism, rape, fraternity hazing, and the meaning of friendship. When at home in Pittsburgh, Sharon is anchored by strong family ties and we glimpse her relationships with her parents, grandmother, and sister. She also develops a bond with an older businesswoman who is wrestling with a long buried secret. While seeking clear visions of their futures, the characters in Blinded by the Smoke experience joys as well as heart-wrenching sorrows. Fifty years later, today's college students face many of the same questions that troubled the youth of the 1960's: Where do I belong? Who can I trust? Should I turn a blind eye to the nefarious behavior of peers and when does it become a matter of conscience? One can be blinded by the sun, by darkness, by smoke, by lies. To see clearly is a matter of perception. Eyes can be tricked and blinded to the truth just as easily as lies deceive the ears. One may look but not see, and hear but not understand. Open the eyes to the heart and protect it, therein lies the truth.

“How I hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof.”

— PROVERBS 5:12

CHAPTER 1

October 1969

Sharon quinn twirled the ballpoint pen between her fingers, then tapped out the perfectly timed beat, the predictable patterns of a Beach Boys hit, one she had heard a hundred times. Picking up the vibes … the good vibrations … she hummed along as the voices reverberated from the radio, lyrics echoing in her ears. Da da da da da. Tap, tap, tap.

She stared at the blank notebook page. It called to her, beckoning, daring. Waiting.

Her foot tapped, picking up the beat. She began to doodle … the pen moved without a plan, drawing random lines and shapes. Circles … round and round. Aimlessly sketching as she sat at her desk, so easily distracted in the noisy dormitory.

Nervous energy. She drew a row of triangles. Repetition. Patterns. Her mind, her hand, seeking order. Tap, tap, tap.

Shutting down her quest for melodic patterns, the tapping of foot and pen ceased. Defeated. Her ears … her brain … now only registered noise and nonsense. Sharon attempted to filter out the hallway banter that intruded on her thoughts, visualizing herself floating in a sea of chaos.

Breathing deeply, she flipped over the notebook and turned to the next blank page. Time to get serious. She needed to focus on the assignment, composing a poem for her English writing class. Straighten up.

Finally, frustrated by the inability to concentrate, Sharon rose from her seat, turned off the radio, and pushed the door shut. Settling back in the rigid chair, she stretched her arms above her head.

Closing her eyes, the professor’s words echoed in her head. He had urged the class to reach deep into their hearts. He wanted a free verse poem … no rules, the easiest kind of poem to write.

Her brain needed to switch gears from her comfort zone, sketching and designs, to words. Spoken words. Written words. No rules. Just focus.

“Okay, here goes.” She squeezed the pen and pursed her lips, chewing on the inside of her lower lip. Digging into her heart, she immediately pictured Jerry, his soft hazel-green eyes, that nut-brown wavy hair, his crooked smile. The dimple on one cheek. Jerry Donato was in her heart. Her mind wandered again. He had called last night and promised to drive up to see her on Saturday if he could trade shifts with another employee at the record store.

Think, think. Concentrate. She unwrapped a stick of Juicy Fruit chewing gum and folded it into her mouth. Ahh … she loved that flavor. Years ago, she had learned that popping a piece of gum in her mouth calmed her whenever she felt tense.

As she twirled a strand of hair between two fingers, Jerry’s eyes flashed in front of her face, twinkling when he laughed, full of mischief and possibilities. She pretended his arms were wrapped around her, his mouth on hers. Oh, she loved him so much. Would they be together forever?

She had never been good at planning ahead or predicting the future. Her throat tightened, she blinked, a solitary tear leaked from the corner of one eye. What in the world? What is happening? Mom always said Sharon was too ornery … too stubborn for tears. Maybe Jerry Donato had brought out the tenderness in her heart.

Hmm … or maybe writing poetry was just downright painful. Ugh. Inner thoughts laid bare. Ugh. Retrospection. Introspection. Ugh. Dreaming of the future. Nope. Emotions connected with life and love. Sappy. Okay, okay. It all sounded poetic. Maybe a little corny. Stop procrastinating.

She began to write, from the heart.

To be nineteen, away from home,

Full of life, free.

So many questions. So much to do.

Finding my place.

Where do I belong, and with whom?

Look in my eyes as I look in yours.

Do I see the true you, or just my own reflection?

Am I discovering the depths of your soul, or is it a mirror?

Me and you.

Or do I stretch my wings to fly away?

Not knowing where I will land.

Losing my way, risking it all.

Is it better to be safe … or brave and free?

It was a start. Sharon breathed a sigh of relief, aware that the feeling was temporary. No, she wasn’t finished with the poem but closed the notebook anyways … to be continued later. It was too hard, transferring private, innermost thoughts to paper. Now she could retreat back to her normal habit of burying uncomfortable feelings that introspection unleashed.

Never one to keep a diary, she didn’t understand her sister’s fascination with examining one’s emotions. Carolyn loved words, whereas Sharon was a visual person, gravitating toward pictures. Her truth could be found by the eye … by seeing. The eye doesn’t lie, right?

She glanced at her wristwatch. Oops, gotta run.

Sharon had promised to meet Janet for dinner at the cafeteria. Quickly grabbing a cardigan, she locked her door and flew down the hallway toward the elevator.

When she stepped out into the cool air, dry leaves swirled around her leather loafers. She quickly made her way up the hill toward the modern, glass and brick cafeteria building while the wind whipped her pleated skirt against her thighs. Usually clad in blue jeans, Sharon had dressed up for her afternoon classes, since it was her turn to deliver a speech in front of twenty classmates … another challenging assignment. Ugh. More words. She breathed a sigh of relief. The torment was over.

As the roommates stood in line with their trays, Sharon said, “Jan, thank God we were allowed to have notecards to help with our presentations or I would have frozen and forgotten everything. I was a nervous wreck.”

Janet laughed, the sound drowned out by the clattering of dishes and silverware. “I’m sure you did fine, although using the war in Vietnam as your subject matter is pretty boring stuff. Probably half the class fell asleep once you started to talk about Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon.”

“Well, that’s okay with me. If their eyes were closed, at least they weren’t staring at me. But seriously, the professor seemed interested, and I know a lot about the war since Jerry talks about it every time we’re together.”

The following day after their classes, the two girls stretched across their quilted bedspreads in the Baxter Hall dormitory room. Comfortable with each other, this was their second year rooming together. Sharon said, “I’ll be glad when I’m finished with all these required courses, like public speaking. When am I ever going to need something like that? I just want to bury myself in art classes.”

“I think they just want to turn us into well-rounded people,” said Janet. “I always complained in high school when I had to take Latin and algebra.”

“Yep. Me too.”

They attempted to read but mostly just listened to music. The Rubber Soul album by the Beatles played three times on Sharon’s record player. Janet said, “I’ll be going home for the weekend, so if Jerry’s coming to visit on Saturday, you two will have the room to yourselves.” She winked at Sharon.

Janet Wilson’s home and her boyfriend were in the town of Erie. Her dad didn’t mind coming to get her on Friday afternoons since Crawford College was only an hour away. Her parents freely admitted they missed their only child terribly, all sixty inches of her. They doted on their daughter and their devotion was understandable. The girl was easy to love. Although petite in stature, she was a dynamo, full of fun, quick to laugh, and not the least bit shy.

Gazing in the mirror above her dresser, Janet brushed the dark brown hair that framed her round face, flipping up the ends at her shoulders. She peered over the top of tortoiseshell rimmed glasses and confidently announced, “My dream is to be a kindergarten teacher, marry Joey, and have five kids … in that order.” Janet was a planner.

A natural entertainer, she often performed an admirable impression of rock singer Janis Joplin … belting out “Piece of My Heart” in the shower with such gusto that her voice could be heard down the hall from the communal bathroom in the center of their dormitory floor.

On the other hand, Sharon Quinn was not one to sing in the shower. At five foot eight, she towered over her roommate. Not a planner, her only goal at the moment was to have the ends of her poker-straight dark hair reach her waist. Parted in the middle with wispy bangs, there was a slight resemblance to Cher from the singing duo Sonny and Cher. The same straight nose and slim build. However, Sharon was not gifted with a decent singing voice.

Janet insisted, “Deny it all you want but, yes, you do look like Cher.”

“No way, but I hope you know that you’re a dead ringer for Gidget. That’s a compliment, Sally Field is cute.”

“And short. At least you didn’t say the Flying Nun!”

“Supposedly it’s a compliment if you’re told you resemble a famous star,” said Sharon, but she had never been impressed by celebrities. “It’s silly to glorify them. After all, they’re just regular people … with perhaps some luck and talent in their...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	30.6.2022
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Historische Romane
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
ISBN-10	1-6678-5329-5 / 1667853295
ISBN-13	978-1-6678-5329-1 / 9781667853291

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