The Rolling Stone

Clayton Valley? It was the 9th and last school I attended.

After a year at Richmond Union High School, the family moved to the suburbs. The perennial "New Guy" was finally where he would graduate, something I had been looking forward to since the 6th grade. Life at Clayton Valley was basically waiting for the final bell; last to arrive in the morning and, with my motorcycle parked outside my last period class, the first to leave. No football games, clubs or other activities. Just killing time.

Two things I remember from school. First was wondering why the popular kids acted like adolescents and the unpopular kids acted more adult. The second was when the crowd goes left, I go right, which I still do to this day. I hate doing what everyone else does. Fun came after school riding my motorcycle in the dirt, hunting or hanging out with Chelucci, Kubitschek or my friends from Richmond.

Wonder why you never saw me around in the summer? Spent that time in Tule Lake near the Oregon border, weeding potatoes, running siphon tube irrigation and working for the fairgrounds doing maintenance. Had my own place, paid my own bills and had two very memorable summers. Even had a girlfriend who today sends me the odd e-mail once in awhile.

My real life began when I reported to the Oakland Induction Center and flew to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego. They taught me lessons no school could and prepared me for the future. Now, the older I get, the more I enjoy life. There are good days and there are great days. There's no such thing as a bad day as long as they're not shooting at you.

A small group of old Vietnam helicopter Marines finally get a welcome home. See if you can spot me:

Wayne Stafford