Per Pam's instructions, here is my entry
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Trip to the Store - part ii
To catch up, this chapter starts at the second trip to the store following the first trip for cigarettes. It is kinda long, so I apologize for that.
I decided on the follow-up trip to forgo the shortcut and take the long way around. It took about 10 minutes longer on foot but I was no big hurry. As I walked to the main street, South Garden Avenue, I caught sight of another Casa Fernandes resident – Mr. Touch – that was our name for him. Mr. Touch didn’t say much because he had things to do. He had to touch all objects as he walked.
If James was Winston Churchill, Mr. Touch was Jimmy Stewart. Mr. Touch always wore a nice, although worn, suit and fedora. At first glance, Mr. Touch might not gather any attention. His tall frame in a suit walking down the street would not raise any suspicions, that is until he walked in the middle of the street and touched the manhole cover with his foot. As he walked, he touched each fence post or nearby branch and was on the watch for the next manhole cover. If a post or bush were not available, Mr. Touch would lightly but deliberately touch the top of his head until an object appeared that needed touching.
I imagine now that Mr. Touch needed to touch each item to reassure himself that he was living in the real world - almost like pinching oneself to make sure you are not in a dream, Mr. Touch touched things to make sure he was not in a dream or worse.
Maybe Mr. Touch's alternate world was such an awful place that he had to constantly remind himself that he wasn't there. His tactile reactions were all he had to let him know that he was safe in this world.
I let him walk past me without engaging in conversation. As I approached the corner, I saw yet another resident – Tom. Tom was younger and more professorial than the other residents. He spoke clearly and succinctly. “Good to day to you” he said to me as I approached the entrance to the apartment complex that contained Casa Fernandes.
“Hello. Say Tom – I haven’t seen James around for a few weeks. Is he ok?”
“The old chap is fine. Every few weeks he has electro shock therapy. He is recovering from that but he will be up and around in no time.”
“Electro-shock therapy? Does that hurt?”
“I haven’t had it myself but most of the residents here do. It helps keep them calm. Going to the store are you?” He chose to ignore the part about pain.
“Hmmm? Oh yes – I am going to the store.”
“Ah. Well, carry on then and stay away from too much candy. It is bad for your teeth.”
“Ok, thanks Tom.”
I did not pay attention to Tom’s warning and headed straight for the candy aisles. I purchased a Missile Pop - a tri-colored cone shaped sucker that actually got sharper and sharper as it sat in the mouth. If anyone ever tried to attack me on the way home and there was always that chance, I could remove the sucker from my mouth and use it as a javelin and spear the attacker with the sharpened end.
“That’ll be 15 cents.” Said Claire, the large-haired cashier. “No cigarettes today?”
“No, just the candy- I am trying to quit the cigarettes.”
“Huh? Oh, good one. Ok, have a good day.”
I made it back home in nine minutes flat. As I entered our backyard from the shortcut, I could see my Dad setting up the barbeque and getting ready to grill. Looks like we were having a BBQ tonight.
“Ape, go inside and get me the hot dogs.” My dad started every sentence with Ape. I have no idea why. I guess it was his joke instead of saying “Hey”. Or he liked calling me an ape. Never could figure that out.
I ran inside and grabbed the hot dogs. As the sun set, the hot dogs and burgers grilled and our entire family stayed outside listening to albums from a speaker placed near the door.
“Honey, go inside and put on the Linda Ronstadt album.” My mom called me honey, much better than ape. I went inside and changed the album and Blue Bayou started to play.
I'm going back someday
Come what may
To Blue Bayou
Where the folks are fine
And the world is mine
On Blue Bayou
Where those fishing boats
With their sails afloat
If I could only see
That familiar sunrise
Through sleepy eyes
How happy I'd be
The barbeque was especially good that day. My dad even made his famous guacamole with his secret ingredient – pickle juice.
“Keeps it fresh. Ape! Stay out of that!”
That night sleep came easy. Our bedroom was in the corner of the house, closest to the shortcut. We had bunk beds and I got top bunk. The beds overlooked a window that had a shutter on the bottom half but was exposed on the top half of the window.
Lying in the top bunk, I could see out the window and had a view of the backyard fence and above that the light post of the church parking lot. I often fell asleep staring at the light post convinced it was a UFO.
The only problem with the shortcut was that other people could use it too. It was a hole in the defenses of our castle. Intruders could enter undetected and pass close to the house. One night, the police chased a suspect down our driveway and right through the shortcut.
As I slept that night, another intruder had entered our sanctuary undetected. A tall man stood outside the window, tall enough to see over the shutter and watched me sleep. From my vantage point, he appeared as a silhouette – all details washed out by the bright light post over the fence.
My sleep turned uneasy and I awoke. As I looked out the window to try and determine whether it was day or night, the shadow disappeared beneath the shutter. As it descended, I thought I saw a head – wearing a hat.
My heart surged. Was someone behind the shutter? Who was watching me? Was it a dream? It must have been a dream. I was a good dreamer. I once had a dream that the milkman was the Zodiac killer. That dream scared me for days. Truth be told, it still scares me. My pulse relaxed and I turned over to try and sleep again. It was just a dream but got to ask Mom to put up some curtains.
As I fell back asleep, the shadow wearing a hat quietly entered the shortcut and disappeared into the dark of night.
I decided on the follow-up trip to forgo the shortcut and take the long way around. It took about 10 minutes longer on foot but I was no big hurry. As I walked to the main street, South Garden Avenue, I caught sight of another Casa Fernandes resident – Mr. Touch – that was our name for him. Mr. Touch didn’t say much because he had things to do. He had to touch all objects as he walked.
If James was Winston Churchill, Mr. Touch was Jimmy Stewart. Mr. Touch always wore a nice, although worn, suit and fedora. At first glance, Mr. Touch might not gather any attention. His tall frame in a suit walking down the street would not raise any suspicions, that is until he walked in the middle of the street and touched the manhole cover with his foot. As he walked, he touched each fence post or nearby branch and was on the watch for the next manhole cover. If a post or bush were not available, Mr. Touch would lightly but deliberately touch the top of his head until an object appeared that needed touching.
I imagine now that Mr. Touch needed to touch each item to reassure himself that he was living in the real world - almost like pinching oneself to make sure you are not in a dream, Mr. Touch touched things to make sure he was not in a dream or worse.
Maybe Mr. Touch's alternate world was such an awful place that he had to constantly remind himself that he wasn't there. His tactile reactions were all he had to let him know that he was safe in this world.
I let him walk past me without engaging in conversation. As I approached the corner, I saw yet another resident – Tom. Tom was younger and more professorial than the other residents. He spoke clearly and succinctly. “Good to day to you” he said to me as I approached the entrance to the apartment complex that contained Casa Fernandes.
“Hello. Say Tom – I haven’t seen James around for a few weeks. Is he ok?”
“The old chap is fine. Every few weeks he has electro shock therapy. He is recovering from that but he will be up and around in no time.”
“Electro-shock therapy? Does that hurt?”
“I haven’t had it myself but most of the residents here do. It helps keep them calm. Going to the store are you?” He chose to ignore the part about pain.
“Hmmm? Oh yes – I am going to the store.”
“Ah. Well, carry on then and stay away from too much candy. It is bad for your teeth.”
“Ok, thanks Tom.”
I did not pay attention to Tom’s warning and headed straight for the candy aisles. I purchased a Missile Pop - a tri-colored cone shaped sucker that actually got sharper and sharper as it sat in the mouth. If anyone ever tried to attack me on the way home and there was always that chance, I could remove the sucker from my mouth and use it as a javelin and spear the attacker with the sharpened end.
“That’ll be 15 cents.” Said Claire, the large-haired cashier. “No cigarettes today?”
“No, just the candy- I am trying to quit the cigarettes.”
“Huh? Oh, good one. Ok, have a good day.”
I made it back home in nine minutes flat. As I entered our backyard from the shortcut, I could see my Dad setting up the barbeque and getting ready to grill. Looks like we were having a BBQ tonight.
“Ape, go inside and get me the hot dogs.” My dad started every sentence with Ape. I have no idea why. I guess it was his joke instead of saying “Hey”. Or he liked calling me an ape. Never could figure that out.
I ran inside and grabbed the hot dogs. As the sun set, the hot dogs and burgers grilled and our entire family stayed outside listening to albums from a speaker placed near the door.
“Honey, go inside and put on the Linda Ronstadt album.” My mom called me honey, much better than ape. I went inside and changed the album and Blue Bayou started to play.
I'm going back someday
Come what may
To Blue Bayou
Where the folks are fine
And the world is mine
On Blue Bayou
Where those fishing boats
With their sails afloat
If I could only see
That familiar sunrise
Through sleepy eyes
How happy I'd be
The barbeque was especially good that day. My dad even made his famous guacamole with his secret ingredient – pickle juice.
“Keeps it fresh. Ape! Stay out of that!”
That night sleep came easy. Our bedroom was in the corner of the house, closest to the shortcut. We had bunk beds and I got top bunk. The beds overlooked a window that had a shutter on the bottom half but was exposed on the top half of the window.
Lying in the top bunk, I could see out the window and had a view of the backyard fence and above that the light post of the church parking lot. I often fell asleep staring at the light post convinced it was a UFO.
The only problem with the shortcut was that other people could use it too. It was a hole in the defenses of our castle. Intruders could enter undetected and pass close to the house. One night, the police chased a suspect down our driveway and right through the shortcut.
As I slept that night, another intruder had entered our sanctuary undetected. A tall man stood outside the window, tall enough to see over the shutter and watched me sleep. From my vantage point, he appeared as a silhouette – all details washed out by the bright light post over the fence.
My sleep turned uneasy and I awoke. As I looked out the window to try and determine whether it was day or night, the shadow disappeared beneath the shutter. As it descended, I thought I saw a head – wearing a hat.
My heart surged. Was someone behind the shutter? Who was watching me? Was it a dream? It must have been a dream. I was a good dreamer. I once had a dream that the milkman was the Zodiac killer. That dream scared me for days. Truth be told, it still scares me. My pulse relaxed and I turned over to try and sleep again. It was just a dream but got to ask Mom to put up some curtains.
As I fell back asleep, the shadow wearing a hat quietly entered the shortcut and disappeared into the dark of night.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Star Wizard of Alderaan
Ok. Some I was going to the store this morning and I was thinking about Star Wars as I often do. I was thinking specifically of Uncle Owen and trying to remember the name of aunt. Aunt Beru? Aunt Veru? Veruch? Anyway - I remembered that Uncle Owen was also Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz's uncle. Right? "Uncle Owen? Auntie Em?"
So, I started to see similarities between the two-
C3PO= Tin Man
Lion= Chewbacca
Munchkins = Ewoks
Luke=Dorothy
Good Witch=Yoda
Bad Witch=Vader
Both go on journeys and discover they have powers.
So I googled it to see how original my idea was. Surely, I was the first person ever to see the connection. There were several millions responses including a thesis paper from some college on the subject. Oh well - it sounded like a good idea for a minute. Someone even did a mash-up video of it.
Aunt Beru is her name.
So, I started to see similarities between the two-
C3PO= Tin Man
Lion= Chewbacca
Munchkins = Ewoks
Luke=Dorothy
Good Witch=Yoda
Bad Witch=Vader
Both go on journeys and discover they have powers.
So I googled it to see how original my idea was. Surely, I was the first person ever to see the connection. There were several millions responses including a thesis paper from some college on the subject. Oh well - it sounded like a good idea for a minute. Someone even did a mash-up video of it.
Aunt Beru is her name.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Embarassing Moments
So, no one blogs anymore? It's been a rainy Wednesday at Pam's blog for a week plus now. Come on! I need to know what Cowboy did today. Did he sleep? or run around? what? Need the details!
For my own blog of childhood memories, it takes me a while to fully conjure up the past and get the images in my mind. Like the story now -- I am going to walk to the store and meet Mr. Touch and Tom. I will describe them then finish up the store story (what should I buy - Lick em stick, Chick-n-stick, that big block of chocolate?- oh Chunky) then I was thinking of having a BBQ that night and kind of retelling my BBQ story (jasmine, albums, etc) then that night something happens! Something sinister that I am not sure happened. It might have been a dream but I think it was real. Oh well, you will see.
But Casa Fernandes will wait until Friday or so.
Today, I went to a restaurant for lunch and had to wash my hands. As I walked into the bathroom, I didn't see the familiar sign of a mens' room - the urinal so, I panicked and walked out thinking I had walked into the womens' room. It got me thinking of embarassing moments in life. They are probably bigger to you than to anyone else but the memory is usually strong. So what's yours?
In looking at the web, most moments involve farting in public, losing your shorts somewhere, things in your teeth, etc. One was for having huge sweat stains and trying to hide them.
My personal embarassing moment happened when Aunt Lydia and Uncle Don took me to Los Angeles to see a hockey game. The motel had a pool and on three sides was a restaurant with huge glass windows looking out over the pool. I had on white gym shorts as swimming trunks that became invisible when wet. So I had to leave the pool and get to my towel basically naked.
Awkward!
For my own blog of childhood memories, it takes me a while to fully conjure up the past and get the images in my mind. Like the story now -- I am going to walk to the store and meet Mr. Touch and Tom. I will describe them then finish up the store story (what should I buy - Lick em stick, Chick-n-stick, that big block of chocolate?- oh Chunky) then I was thinking of having a BBQ that night and kind of retelling my BBQ story (jasmine, albums, etc) then that night something happens! Something sinister that I am not sure happened. It might have been a dream but I think it was real. Oh well, you will see.
But Casa Fernandes will wait until Friday or so.
Today, I went to a restaurant for lunch and had to wash my hands. As I walked into the bathroom, I didn't see the familiar sign of a mens' room - the urinal so, I panicked and walked out thinking I had walked into the womens' room. It got me thinking of embarassing moments in life. They are probably bigger to you than to anyone else but the memory is usually strong. So what's yours?
In looking at the web, most moments involve farting in public, losing your shorts somewhere, things in your teeth, etc. One was for having huge sweat stains and trying to hide them.
My personal embarassing moment happened when Aunt Lydia and Uncle Don took me to Los Angeles to see a hockey game. The motel had a pool and on three sides was a restaurant with huge glass windows looking out over the pool. I had on white gym shorts as swimming trunks that became invisible when wet. So I had to leave the pool and get to my towel basically naked.
Awkward!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Casa Fernandes Update
Ok - what happened to my last post? I had lots of pithy, funny comments in there and they got lost in the ether of the internet. I hate it when that happens. Well, I had to go to Murrieta for work and decided to drive. The first pic was going over the Grapevine. The snow had just started and it looked kinda nice. I took a pic while driving dangerously close to those big rigs. What was I thinking?
The other pic was Holden being silly and a picture of my rug which is really wood slats like a hardwood floor. I am on the only one who sees the irony in covering a carpeted floor with a rug that looks like a hardwood floor?
Anyway, I think I have a plot for this rambling Casa Fernandes tale. So here is the next mini-chapter. We have met James, the beautiful dreamer, and here is the intro to the next two characters we will meet - Mr. Touch and a guy named Tom. I couldn't remember his name so I went with Tom.
Trips to the Store
For whatever reason, my family required at least three trips per day to the local store – Food Town. Food Town was most easily accessed through the shortcut, through the church, past Casa Fernandes and around the corner to the store. Only one street had to be crossed and the total trip on foot was less than 10 minutes.
Food Town itself was a typical small market – some canned food aisles, a produce section, a butcher in the back and a refrigerator section in the far back aisle. The all important candy aisle was closest to the registers. The registers were those key-punch style registers. The numbers 1-9 ran in columns for the dollars and cents. I remember watching with fascination as the cashier could push several buttons at once without looking to ring up an order.
Maybe my grandma needed flour for her tortillas or a pack of Salems, maybe it was my great-grandmother’s need for a carton of milk and a pack of Marlboros, maybe my mom needed a loaf of bread or a pack of Tareytons. Now that I think about, we were just enablers of their respective smoking addictions. Don’t even get me started on why 8 year olds were allowed to buy cigarettes in the first place. Although we did have a note:
“Dear Food Town – please sell a pack of cigarettes to my son. He will not smoke them – honestly. Signed, his Mom."
Even more strange was that neither my brother nor I (the primary couriers) smoked – then or now. Maybe being the drug mules for so long turned us off to the habit.
I used to toss the cigarettes in the air and catch them as I made my way home. On one trip, I threw the box too high and it went over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Our neighbor was insane and bought a ram to eat the grass instead of just mowing once a month like a normal person. The ram was a heartless creature who acted well, like a ram and tried to head butt you if you went into his territory. I had to hop the fence, retrieve the cigarettes and hop back over before the ram could attack me. Luckily I made it and the cigarettes were delivered safely.
The reward for a fast trip to the store was a portion of the change. Granma was the best tipper usually giving all of the leftover change. I never felt right accepting money from my Great-grandma. She spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish so even getting her order right was a small miracle. It usually involved lots of pantomime and pointing at empty containers. My mom usually allowed us to keep part of the change.
And with the newly earned cash, a trip to the store was in order to spend the tip. It was on one of those follow-up trips that I met two more residents of Casa Fernandes and gained a little insight into what really went on there.
The other pic was Holden being silly and a picture of my rug which is really wood slats like a hardwood floor. I am on the only one who sees the irony in covering a carpeted floor with a rug that looks like a hardwood floor?
Anyway, I think I have a plot for this rambling Casa Fernandes tale. So here is the next mini-chapter. We have met James, the beautiful dreamer, and here is the intro to the next two characters we will meet - Mr. Touch and a guy named Tom. I couldn't remember his name so I went with Tom.
Trips to the Store
For whatever reason, my family required at least three trips per day to the local store – Food Town. Food Town was most easily accessed through the shortcut, through the church, past Casa Fernandes and around the corner to the store. Only one street had to be crossed and the total trip on foot was less than 10 minutes.
Food Town itself was a typical small market – some canned food aisles, a produce section, a butcher in the back and a refrigerator section in the far back aisle. The all important candy aisle was closest to the registers. The registers were those key-punch style registers. The numbers 1-9 ran in columns for the dollars and cents. I remember watching with fascination as the cashier could push several buttons at once without looking to ring up an order.
Maybe my grandma needed flour for her tortillas or a pack of Salems, maybe it was my great-grandmother’s need for a carton of milk and a pack of Marlboros, maybe my mom needed a loaf of bread or a pack of Tareytons. Now that I think about, we were just enablers of their respective smoking addictions. Don’t even get me started on why 8 year olds were allowed to buy cigarettes in the first place. Although we did have a note:
“Dear Food Town – please sell a pack of cigarettes to my son. He will not smoke them – honestly. Signed, his Mom."
Even more strange was that neither my brother nor I (the primary couriers) smoked – then or now. Maybe being the drug mules for so long turned us off to the habit.
I used to toss the cigarettes in the air and catch them as I made my way home. On one trip, I threw the box too high and it went over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Our neighbor was insane and bought a ram to eat the grass instead of just mowing once a month like a normal person. The ram was a heartless creature who acted well, like a ram and tried to head butt you if you went into his territory. I had to hop the fence, retrieve the cigarettes and hop back over before the ram could attack me. Luckily I made it and the cigarettes were delivered safely.
The reward for a fast trip to the store was a portion of the change. Granma was the best tipper usually giving all of the leftover change. I never felt right accepting money from my Great-grandma. She spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish so even getting her order right was a small miracle. It usually involved lots of pantomime and pointing at empty containers. My mom usually allowed us to keep part of the change.
And with the newly earned cash, a trip to the store was in order to spend the tip. It was on one of those follow-up trips that I met two more residents of Casa Fernandes and gained a little insight into what really went on there.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Top Album of All Time
I am currently listening to Ten by Pearl Jam and I was thinking that song for song this has to be one of the best albums ever.
So what's your favorite album (no Greatest Hits allowed)? You know, where each song is as good as the next and you don't have to skip the filler songs to get to the hits. Listening to an entire album is very rare is the randomizing iTunes world.
I got curious and googled it. According to Rolling Stone - #1 is Sgt. Peppers which is hard to disagree. Great songs. I would rank it #1 also. In fact the Beatles have 10 of their 12 albums listed and 4 of the Top Ten are Beatles.
U2 had 5 of their 10 albums listed.
The Police had 4 of their 5 listed.
Nirvana had 2 of their 3 listed.
Velvet Underground had all 4 of their studio albums listed which is pretty amazing.
That got me thinking of the actor John Cazale. Remember him? Well he died very young at age 42 of bone cancer. In his short but amazing career, he made 5 films. All 5 films were nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Dog Day Afternoon, The Conversation, Deer Hunter and of course, Godfather and Godfather II. Yes, Fredo from the Godfather who couldn't do anything right was portrayed by an actor who could do no wrong. Here's to you Fredo!
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