(We've been having fun) All Summer Long

The words to that enigmatic Beach Boys song from the early sixties come to mind this morning. It's 6 am, the sun is just beginning to rise. It's only about 70 degrees, but well on its way to the oppressive 100's again today. Right now, the air is cool and fresh.

Back when that song was playing on the radio, I would still be fast asleep at least until 10 or 11 or so. I was an early teen back then, enjoying the freedom and carefree life that came with summer vacation.

"Skip", my Mom or Dad would say standing at my bedroom door, "Are you gonna sleep all day? It's time to get up". "Argh" would be the standard answer from under the covers. The sounds of yard work and weekend chores being done just outside my window. Dad was already busy trimming the palm tree or spreading manure on the lawn or just watering parts of the lawn the sprinkler didn't reach. Mom doing housework. My two sisters playing with dolls in their room, still in their pajamas.

If I was lucky, it would still be early enough to have breakfast before being coaxed into helping with the chores. Cleaning the pool was something I was taxed with doing most of the time. I didn't mind that very much. I would end up in the pool by the time I had finished.

If there were no family activities planned other than staying home, us kids would spend a good part of the day swimming. Sometimes neighbor kids would show up and join in. We were the first family to have a pool in our neighborhood. "Make sure it's O.K. with your mom to go swimming", Mom would chide. Of course, it always was O.K. We had a lot of friends back then.

Quite often on weekends, my parents would have the typical San Fernando Valley pool party, inviting another family or three for swimming and a barbecue. It was until years later and watching the 8mm films my Dad took did I realize the adult's sodas were laced with bourbon or vodka or some other liquor of choice. Those films, without sound of course, told many stories. "Is Uncle Bill drunk or something?", I'd ask my Mom. "He keeps trying to dance with those other ladies". Or, "Why does Mr. Townsend keep taking movies of Mrs. Cavner's butt?" The films are still around, now transferred to video tape. There was always music playing on our Magnavox Hi-Fi Dad had dragged out of the house onto the patio. Yes, Hi-Fi...no stereo yet. The adults dancing around the pool deck tolerated the kids standing on the tops of their feet for a tune or two. As the camera panned by, a "toast" would always be offered in the direction of the photographer, my Dad. Someone was inevitably and reluctantly pushed into the pool on cue. Usually a husband shoving some else's wife into the water. Their children standing on the edge of the pool, jumping up and down, squealing and applauding the debauchery, then jumping in the middle of it all.

At some point, the food would come out. Amidst the swirling smoke from the barbeque, the redwood picnic table under the cabana would fill with bowls of potato salad, cole slaw, chips and dip, paper plates, hamburger and hot dog buns, ketchup, mustard, and pitchers of cherry Kool-Aid. Ice cold cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon stashed in the coolers. Bottles of booze kept sequestered in the kitchen to be visited from time to time by whomever desired an extra shot of party encouragement. As I found out later in life, visits to the kitchen cabinet were quite a popular activity. "Dad", I would ask peaking my head inside the kitchen door, "What are you and Mr. Baker doing? Mom says it's time to start cooking!" Their heads simultaneously tilting back, finishing off shots of Seagrams before returning to the backyard. "Can I have some of that?', I said with a cheshire grin on my face. They both chuckled. Mr. Baker patting me on the top of my head as he passed by. "Someday, son. Someday".

Such is just one snapshot of summer for me. There are many more. Sure, it's not the same any longer, save for one thing. The heat. Only back then, we really didn't notice it. At least we didn't complain about it like I do now. A leap into the tepid, summer pool water would take our minds off the weather. Drying off for a few minutes. Then jumping back in, sometimes staying in the water until our fingertips wrinkled like raisins. That was 1962. I was 12.

Now, the wrinkles are on my face.

Another Schwinn Continental in the works

Yes, it has a generator, a front
headlight, and rear tail light.

Also, a front wheel driven
speedometer (not shown).

...continued...at six weeks old.

Some "grandfatherly" shots of Rowan...

A little over six months now.

A few shots from my Father's Day weekend.

We had the opportunity to visit Pismo Beach, my Mom, sisters, niece, son, daughter, son-in-law, grandson, and brother-in-law (hope I didn't leave anyone out) this past Father's Day weekend. This time, we stayed two nights rather than the one night whirlwind trip. Although time was short (as always), Loretta and I managed to fit everything, and everyone, into the two days on the coast.

The annual Pismo Car Show was going on, and though we had hoped to stroll the streets of Pismo gawking at all the cool cars, that didn't happen. It was just too darned busy and crowded to make the attempt.

A little barbeque Saturday at my sister's and a self-cooked Father's Day breakfast at my Mom's with Jimmy, Jen, Roth, and the baby highlighted the weekend.



Brother-in-law, Mark, and niece, Kassie (home from UC Santa Cruz). Sister Kris and Kassie.



I handled most of the cooking honors at the barbeque: Foil roasted salmon, grilled zucchini and portabellos, Italian sausage, and a "96-ouncer" sliced up for everyone to enjoy a slice or two of beef. Kassie, by the way, is a vegetarian. A few beers, a couple of cocktails, a game or two of croquet, and excellent chow...and it was over almost before it began. But, the short length of time spent was coveted and we all had fun. Our Sunday morning breakfast was similar in time. A few hours with Jimmy, Jen, Roth, Rowan, Mom...and, of course, Loretta. Jen, Roth, and Rowan flew back to Seattle on Monday morning. Jen's perspective chronicled on her blog.

The 500+ mile drive there and back is always near excruciatingly painful, ie, Highway 5...ecch!!! But, is always worth the effort. Hopefully, we can make the jaunt again sometime this summer or fall when I have some vacation time.

Check out 80 year Betty and granddaughter Kassie playing croquet.





You can't beat times like this!

Modesto: Where American Graffiti all began.

"Where we you in '62?" That was the catch phrase from George Lucas' 1973 film about a group of teenagers' last night of the summer after graduation. Modesto, California was Lucas' hometown and the setting for this enigmatic movie, a macro-chronicle of post pubescent passage.

We've lived in Modesto for close to eleven years now. And echoing my own bitching and complaining in past blogs, "We hate it here!" Sorry, Modesto lovers everywhere. Yes, it was our choice. No lectures, please.

Despite this aversion for our current location, Modesto does hold that one claim to fame for us fans of American Graffiti. No, it wasn't filmed here (Petaluma and San Rafael were chosen). It was based on George Lucas' actual teenage experiences in the town where he lived for quite a while including attending high school. Many of the street names and other geographical references remained in the script, ie, Paradise Road (where the climatic car race scene was suppose to have taken place).

A few years ago, the American Graffiti Car Show was resurrected. And, it is going on this weekend at Modesto Junior College (one of Lucas' alma maters before heading south to USC film school). Loretta and I managed to spend a few hours there yesterday. It has gotten quite huge. Hundreds of people from all over California and the U.S. converge here with their hot rods and classic cars of all shapes and sizes. There is also the usual contigent of nasty, tomane-potential, fair food peddlers and vendor booths selling almost everything except car-related products. We did buy a bag of fresh-popped pop corn and a couple soft serve ice cream cones. We passed on the polish sausages on a stick, chicken skewers and fried rice plates (the best chance for acquiring a three day case of the runs), and other dangerous, though great smelling barbequed animal flesh concoctions. We were there to gawk at and me to envy the cars! And there were lots to look at.

My favorites: the 60's and 70's muscle cars not customized much beyond their original showroom appearance. Chevelle Super Sports, Pontiac GTO's, and '69 Mustangs tickle my fancy the most. The older, completely-restored-to-original 50's Buicks and Chevys are also sights to behold. I did bring the camera and a new lens. I forgot to bring my wide angle lens, so all the shots are closeups from the telephoto.

















































As usual, I couldn't help snapping a few self portraits in the shiny chrome bumpers and paint jobs!
The weather was perfect. We ran into a few old friends. And, we had a great time. What else is there? Well, next weekend: The Pismo Car Show.

Good news from the vet the other day: "His testicles have definitely dropped...!"

Good news from the vet the other day: "His testicles have definitely dropped. He's an early riser!"

Loretta gleefully reported that news to me upon returning from Boo Boo's first vet appointment (and checkup) the other day. Besides getting his next round of shots (the 6-in-1 thing), the dog doc confirmed that his package is complete. You see, we had been concerned that "it" hadn't happened yet since his "package" seemed devoid of, well...nuts! I guess they just haven't yet grown to their full size. Whew! No big deal, it was just some sort of male, testosterone-concerned thought. "Damn it...I want our new little boy dog to have balls!" A side note, somewhat related: he squats to pee. Thank goodness...a non-alpha male dog!

And with the injection he got the other day, Boo Boo will be protected from bordatella, parvo, etc, and we can feel more secure about taking him to public places, ie, the park. Oh, and he weighs about 8 1/2 pounds, perfect for his age (5 months) and close to the 10-11 pounds a male mini doxie should top out at.

On another note, the young canine squire will be accompanying us on our Father's Day weekend trip to Pismo. He loves riding in the car and is fairly well-behaved to this point. We are still in mid-training in efforts to leash train the little shit. He is requiring a chest harness as still thinks that he is the boss. Practice, practice, practice. One of the things we are looking forward to: a walk with him on our old beach. He must experience the taste of sand, seawater, and old seaweed as part of his development...not to mention chasing the seagulls on the wet sand.

Daughter Jen, son-in-law Roth, and their young squire (my grandson), Rowan, will be visiting Pismo from Seattle that weekend as well, so, needless to say, we are very excited about our first little weekend away in quite a while. This time for two nights as I have three days off in a row! The annual (huge) Pismo car show is going on that weekend and hopefully we can see some of that. Visiting my mom, my son, and my sisters are also on the agenda for those days. A lot to do, but we always look forward to and savor our time on the central coast, our old stomping ground.

With new puppy and cameras in tow, we will leave this Saturday morning and return Monday. Should be a nice Father's Day, one of the first in years I haven't had to work in some silly restaurant on one of the most chaotic food service days of the year!