Saturday Stories - Money

Lack of money was a common problem during the 1940s and our family, and many others, had some hard times.  We didn't go hungry, but I went through shoes like water through a sieve, so mine were almost always in poor condition.  Clothes frequently came from the Willy-Willy (aka Goodwill) and the only time the car was out of the garage was to drive out to the country to Grandmother's farm.   But we were generally a happy bunch and, as children will, found lots of fun things to do.  Our dilapidated bikes took us far afield and in those days we had no fear of being kidnapped.   One of the best things that could happen on our adventures was finding money.   I seemed to have a knack for it and discovered places where coins could frequently be found in the dirt or on the pavement.  Gas stations were good, but the attendants didn't let us hang around much.   Bus stops offered good hunting as people pulled change out of their pockets and lost a coin here or there.  My best spot was outside the tiny neighborhood store where residents stopped for milk or bread and the kids bought penny candy.  

I still find coins these days, mostly in parking lots.  I guess guys pull their keys out of their pockets and flip out a stray coin.  But the real scores are paper bills.  Once I looked down as I was getting in an elevator and there was a $20 bill.  There was nobody around and I picked up the bill and sat on a nearby bench, thinking that someone would come looking.  But nobody did and I tucked that luck bill in my purse.  

I suspect less actual money is floating around these days, so found money is probably rare.  So many people use credit cards or use their cell phone app to charge things.   I was reading an article online about the change in the habits of thieves.  The incidents of armed robbery and burglary have declined because the bad guys do better with high priced merchandise.   One of the products high on the list is baby formula! 

However, these remarks are about found money.  The other day I was walking KoKo with a slight wind blowing debris down the street.  And what should roll by?  An almost new five dollar bill!  There was nobody around and I had not seen anyone getting into or out of a car in the entire block.  I didn't hesitate and picked up the fiver and folded it into my pocket.  Funny, it gave me the same elation that I had felt all those years ago when I would find a dime at the bus stop.   Inflation?

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Saturday Stories - Long lost friends 03-17-18

Diane wonders why old friends suddenly pop into her mind without seeming to connect to anything that is currently happening.  When she was walking today she was thinking of her mother who died in Feb 1972 and suddenly she remembered a friend from 1959-9 who has no connection at all with her mother.   Her name is adrift and may come back, or not.  She was part of a group of friends in the Arcadia, CA, area who met at a Methodist Church meeting.  Yes, Diane was a Methodist back then and met a lot of her friends through the church.  We will call the friend Margot.  Margot was from Sweden and lived here with her family who had immigrated several years before.  She was tall, blonde, multi-lingual, and a lot of fun.  They went to the beach together, strutting their stuff on the sand and soaking up rays until they were bright red with sunburn - neither had the skin for California suntans.  

Margot was with her at the Long Beach party when she met Hank, her first really serious romance. And Margot was the rider in the first trip on the freeway when Diane got her driver's license. 
http://delquilts.blogspot.com/2017/05/satuday-stories-driving-05-13-17.html

What happened to Margot?  There is no memory of an end to the friendship, they just weren't in contact any longer.  But...  Why should she suddenly pop into Diane's head when she was thinking about her mother?  This jolt into her past happens infrequently, but she always wonders why.  And it makes her sad because she has such pleasant memories of the person who "visits" across the years. 

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Saturday Stories - Postage Stamps 11-11-17

I was thinking about this story today because I bought a roll of first class (forever) stamps for $49.00.  It reminded me of a long ago tale when postage was three cents for first class (until 1958).  An interesting listing of postal rates is at:
. https://www.vaughns-1-pagers.com/economics/postal-rates.htm
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When Diane was about 12 years old she took the bus into town to do some shopping and have her hair cut.  Her family went almost everywhere on the bus, since their mother didn't drive and the bus was very convenient and cheap.  Only ten cents during the day and increasing to twenty cents after a certain time - maybe 4pm.  It was a fun day, alone in downtown, looking in the store windows and wandering through several department stores.  She even had lunch at the Buttermilk Corner, her favorite diner.  But she dawdled too long and missed the last ten cent bus home.  By that time she had spent almost all her money and only had about thirteen cents left in her pocketbook.   What to do?  She tried to talk the driver of the next bus into letting her ride for a dime, but no luck.  Her almost last source was going to the post office (the huge building with marble floors and high marble counters) and waiting in line to see if the postal clerk would buy back some stamps.  No luck.  She tried several people in line, but they just dismissed her.  Until a lady standing in another line called her over and asked what the problem was.  After Diane explained the lady just gave her a dime!  She didn't want the stamps.  And Diane was able to take the bus home and have a few cents left over.  In 2017 we would call that "paying it forward".  She was a nice lady - ten cents would mail three and a third letters.   Diane learned a life time lesson and has never since been down to thirteen cents.

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Saturday Stories 09-30-17

Diane is a "foodie" at heart!  She remembers so many favorite restaurants and meals over her lifetime.  One of the early memories is from her year of working at the main library in her hometown.  Her job was to fetch books from the stacks at the request of the librarians.  It was a fascinating job, being able to look at every single book in the library.  Of course, there wasn't much time during her working hours, but enough to have a read every now and then.  But the memory she cherishes is of a small diner down the street.   It was just a counter and a row of red stools along one side of the room.  No space for anything else.  The owner/chef was an old (or so it seemed to her) guy who was a cook in the Navy, now retired.  One of the things he did she has never forgotten, but discovered that it is a common trick among diner cooks.  Order a warmed Danish and he would plop a lettuce leaf on his grill, top it with the pastry, and cover it with a pot lid.  In a minute or less the pastry would be warm and soft and read to eat.  Amazing then, before microwaves, and still is today.  The best thing about this diner was the pies, made on the premises, early in the morning.  Diane's favorite was the peach pie, when fresh peaches were available.  Such peachy flavor, such flakey pastry, such creamy thick juice holding it together.  Along with a glass of milk it was breakfast or lunch or dinner.  The memory is now sixty years old and it still makes her mouth water.  No other peach pie has ever been so good, even the ones she has made herself. 

 

 

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Saturday Stories - Bare Midriffs

One of the places on the tourist agenda in the 1940s and 1950s was Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, CA.   There are huge statues and towering paintings and stained glass, lots of open space with trees and benches and the graves of famous people.  When Diane and her sister lived with their grandparents in Los Angeles there were many trips on weekends to see all the sights, including Forest Lawn.  It was the middle of the war years and fabric to make anything was difficult to find.  Their Aunt Vernice would buy whole bolts when she found them and made clothes for everyone in the family; shirts for the guys, dresses and blouses for the ladies, play clothes and school clothes for the children.  One summer everyone wore watermelon designs and another summer everyone wore tiny pink flowers .  That year Vernice came up with outfits that were a skirt and a bare midriff top for the girls.  Very classy with lace around the neck and along the straps of the tops.  Diane and her sister wore these nice outfits the day they went to Forest Lawn; Diane was about six and her sister almost nine.  When they went to go into the museum they were stopped by the guard and told they could not go in with bare midriffs!  What to do?  Aunt Vernice hauled out some safety pins, pinning the top to the skirt to cover those outrageous bare bellies, in turn, pulling the skirts up to an almost indecent height, they dare not bend over.  However, Marie would have nothing to do with it.  She sat on a bench outside, refusing to go into such a stuffy place.   Diane was too young to really appreciate the wonders that were on view and mostly remembers the marble floors and walls and the stained glass windows.  She has never been to Forest Lawn again.  She wonders what people wear to visit there these days.

 

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Saturday Stories - free pizza 09-09-17

Some years ago Diane was driving across the country and stopped for the night near a remote farming community.   Right on the highway there was a well known motel, several gas stations, and a couple bars.  There were no restaurants and the motel had no food service.  Although she had some emergency supplies (peanut butter, jam, crackers, a small can of chicken, some baby carrots and, of course, cookies) none of that sounded appetizing.   One of the bars advertised pizza, so she went there and ordered a pizza.  There was a young guy, maybe 30, draped over the bar with a beer in his hand, mumbling to himself.  Diane ordered her pizza and was getting out her money to pay when the guy said, "No, I'm going to treat you to a pizza."  Saying NO Diane continued to argue with him until he became really irritated.  The female bartender waved her hand and said, "Just let it go."  Diane acquiesced and the bartender took the price out of the money on the bar.  The guy seemed completely uninterested in the process and just kept mumbling.  The pizza was delivered, Diane said Thank You again and left to walk back tot he motel next door.  The next morning she was on the road again, wondering what that was all about.  Maybe she reminded him of his mother, or grandmother!  She is still wondering. 

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Saturday Stories - Pomegranates 08-26-17

 

When Diane and her sister Marie were living with their grandparents in Los Angeles during WWII they prowled the neighborhood with their school friends.  The street dead ended into Poppy Peak which seemed enormously tall to us.  There was a trail to the top through cactus and chapperel, but they were not permitted to climb it alone.  Once when they went with their uncle they saw tarantulas and there were rattlesnakes in the rocks.    Their grandparents house had an alley along the back where the one car garages were located.  They knew all the neighbors and their animals - dogs, cats, goats, chickens, rabbits.  One house had a pomegranate tree that hung over the back fence and the kids helped themselves to every pomegranate that grew on the alley side of the fence.  Sometimes they even reached under the fence and stole a few more.  The only things Diane can remember they did with them was to eat them out of hand or juice them in the jelly sieve their grandmother used when she canned.  After the war and the move back to Oregon the sisters traveled by train back to Los Angles to visit their grandparents.  For some reason they always visited in August and the pomegranates were always ripe.  One of Diane's neighbors has a pomegranate tree in their front yard and every year she helps herself to just one.  She feels like a seven year old again!

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Saturday Stories - Romance 08-19-17

First, a note to Mary Ann - You have a new e-address and Blogger won't let me make a comment on your blog.  Please send me your new e-address.  Del
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It must have been 1960 when Diane met a guy at a party.  Hank Tietje was in the navy and his ship was stationed at that time in Long Beach.  They dated and he went out to sea, leaving Diane his Cadillac convertible to watch over while he was gone.  

 

When he came into port in San Diego, Diane drove down in his car to see him.  From Long Beach to San Diego on Pacific Coast Highway (there was no I-5 at that time) she felt like a starlet.  Oh, was she hot stuff!  With a scarf tied around her hair with its blonde highlights and her spaghetti strap summer dress, she was riding high.  Hank took a lot of ribbing from his shipmates when he met her in the huge parking lot at ship side. 

 

Soon he was out to sea again, but before he left he presented her with an engagement ring and she said YES.  This was his last tour and when he came back into Long Beach he finished up his California business and left for Garnerville, Nevada, to see his folks and get settled.  Later that summer Diane drove to Nevada, in her own bright red convertible, for a visit.  Hank's mother was shocked.  "What kind of woman is this you bring home?" she asked, not knowing that Diane could hear her from the other room.  Bleached hair, make-up, sexy clothes, convertible with top down - it was all foreign to momma.  But it was a great visit, Hank showed her off to all the relatives and friends, they went dancing and attended a fundraiser for a local cause.  Diane had one of the winning door prize tickets - it was a shotgun!  More teasing for Hank.  And he received the shotgun. 

 

Diane drove home and the long distance calls and letters kept them in touch.  A problem arouse when Hank said he had put a down payment on a house and never wanted to travel again for the rest of his life.  WHAT?  Never travel?  Diane felt she hadn't been anywhere and wanted to see the world.  After six months she decided that there was too much yet to see and she sent back his ring with a long explanatory letter.  Five days later she woke up to find him sleeping in his car in her driveway.  He wasn't going to take no for an answer.  It was a terrible time, but finally she convinced him that they had no future and he went back to Nevada.  That was the end of their connection and she has always wondered what he did with the rest of his life.  He would be about 85 now, does he still live in Garnerville?  Have grandchildren?  Did he ever travel?  All unanswered/unanswerable questions. 

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Saturday Stories - First Apartment 08-05-17

After living many places growing up, including several rented rooms (do they have those any more?) Diane moved from her little grandmother's house in Arcadia to a apartment in a converted Victorian in Pasadena.   It had wonderful high ceilings and a hanging chandelier in the "parlor".  The kitchen was built from the original front porch and the bathroom was an addition onto the outside of the bedroom.  It was sort of a jerry-rigged arrangement, but it was hers!  It came furnished, but no dishes, pots, flatware, or linens.  Friends and relatives donated odds and ends and Diane bought brand new sheets for the double bed.  It was an exciting time.  Across the street and up a few doors was a "holy roller" church with loud and festive music on Sunday and one night a week (Wednesday, maybe).  She could walk to the grocery store and found a neighborhood beauty shop to have her hair cut. 

 

It was sort of the final step to freedom and she never lived with anyone again, except her two husbands (at different times!).   At that time she could move everything she owned in her own car.  The next time she moved she needed to have help from a friend with a pickup.  One time she moved from a studio apartment on one side of the street, directly across to a one bedroom on the other side.  That was the WORST move because everything had to be carried, no piling it into a car and backing up into a driveway.

Now, like so many ladies she knows, she is living with a 60 year accumulation of "stuff" and is faced with downsizing and de-cluttering.  A terrible burden to bear, but one she must deal with, and soon.
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Satuday Stories - Sharing a table 07-08-17

When Diane was traveling in Australia, about forty years ago, she was on her own most of the time.  She started out with a group of colleagues from work, but had planned further travels after they left for home.  It is a challenge being alone in a foreign country and living day to day without a planned itinerary.   Very exciting and, yet, sometimes lonely.  She discovered that in Australia one need not be lonely, the Aussies were very outgoing and willing to share.  The first time Diane was sitting alone at a table in a medium sized restaurant that was packed, the waitress calmly seated a couple on the other side of the table.  They said hello and proceeded to order their meal.  Then they turned their attention to their table companion and asked questions.  After getting over the oddness of it, Diane not only replied, but posed the same questions back.  They were locals, just out for dinner, and seemed delighted to meet someone from California.  They had lots of suggestions for places to go and what to eat and where she should go in her further travels.   They all paid their own checks and in parting exchanged names and addresses.  Diane rarely ate alone in the four weeks she travel around the country and ventured to the south island of New Zealand.  Even sitting at the counter someone on either side of her would start a conversation.  Always address/phone numbers were exchanged and some of them kept in touch for a number of years.   She always thought she would return to see more of the country and possibly connect with some of those long ago "friends", but it never happened.  It is probably a completely different culture now.  But what lovely memories she has. 

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Saturday Stories - Morning Visitor 06-17-17

In the mid-60s Diane and her then husband bought a house in a new development.  It was built close to the ocean, but not in view of that.  So, it was completely flat terrain with not a tree in sight.  The fences and landscaping were the responsibility of the buyers, so it was pretty desolate looking until the new homeowners did the work, or had the money to have it done, to landscape their yards.  For the first few months children roamed through everyone's property along with the cats and dogs who were discovering their new neighborhood, like everyone else.  

Diane's habit was to go downstairs about 6am, put the coffee pot on and let the dog out for a roam around.  She left the door open far enough for dog to return when he was ready.  One morning after dressing she returned from upstairs to find the dog and a old man sitting in the family room.  "Good morning," said the man.  "I wonder if I could have a cup of coffee."   "Who are you and where did you come from," asked Diane.   He waved to his left and said, "I live down that way."  He didn't seem threatening and was very relaxed and casual as he sat on the love seat.   She gave him a mug of coffee and fed the dog, waiting for her husband to come downstairs.  The man said his name was John and he lived with his daughter and her family; they had just moved into a house down the street.  He had come from Los Angeles to live with his daughter since he was alone now.  About the time that her husband came down Diane could hear a woman's voice calling, "Dad?  Dad, where are you?".  She went out the sliding door and saw a frantic woman in her bathrobe running behind the houses.  Diane waved and said, "Over here."  The woman ran to the door and gave a big sigh of relief when she saw John sitting inside.  After much effusive thanks and explanation that John was forgetful in his old age, they went off behind the buildings.  

Diane thought he might come again, but he never did.  She received a Thank You note from the daughter, but they never spoke after that.  This was her first introduction to what is now commonly known as Alzheimer's disease.  

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Saturday Stories - Dogs 05-27-17

It seems that some people just attract dogs.  Diane's Aunt Dot was always the center of attention when there were dogs in the house.  She complained because they frequently sat on her feet, no matter how large the dog or how skimpy her shoes.  She always had a dog or two, so maybe the other dogs were trying to get close to them.  Diane hasn't had that problem, although she loves dogs and they usually like her, but not obsessively so.  One day when she was leaving for an appointment she drove out of her driveway to see an unleashed dog wandering in the street.  Not a dog she had seen previously and there were never stray dogs in her neighborhood.  She pulled over to the curb and got out of the car to approach the dog, who was quite happy to run over to her.  She checked the tags, finding out the dog was called Chaucer and the address was in the cul de sac down a few houses.  As she turned to get back in her car, Chaucer just jumped in the driver's seat and moved over to the passenger seat and settled himself.  He was a fairly large dog, maybe a Labradoodle, with lots of curly beige fur.  When she tried to pull him out by his collar he just licked her wherever he could reach with his tongue.  This wasn't working.  So, she got in and drove to the address on his collar.  Nobody home, but the side gate was open.  Easy, just put Chaucer in the yard and close the gate.  But how to get him out of the car?  As she tugged and pushed, one of the neighbors drove in.  He smiled because he was familiar with Chaucer's car addiction.  He went in his house for some doggie treats and tried to tempt Chaucer down to the ground.  Didn't work.  So, he pushed and Diane pulled and they finally got Chaucer to jump out of the car.  After about fifteen minutes, between the two of them, they coaxed the dog through the gate and slammed it shut.  Whew!  By this time Diane was covered with dog hair and already late for her appointment.  But how could she not get this dog back to his rightful place in the world.  Over the years she saw Chaucer walking obediently on a leash, but not lately.  The other day she say the homeowner in the yard and stopped to ask about Chaucer.  He died about a year ago, she was told, after many adventures trying to take a ride with the neighbors.

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Satuday Stories - Driving 05-13-17

Diane never had a  drivers license before she moved to California in 1957.  Of course, she had driven the cars of various boy friends, but needing to drive wasn't a big deal back then.  She rode the bus as did almost everyone she knew.  Her mother didn't learn to drive until Diane was a senior in high school - she also took the bus, even to the grocery store.

When Diane moved to California her uncle took her out driving and it was just like she had always driven - possibly the result of observation? - and it didn't take many practice drives before she was always in the driver's seat.  But she had to have a student license before she could qualify for a "real" license.  The first time she drove on the freeway she had a licensed friend in the passenger's seat, one who had not ridden with her before.  They knew where they wanted to go and knew they would take the freeway.  Turning onto the on ramp, Diane increased her speed so when she merged into traffic she was going about the same as the cars in the lane.  She looked over at her friend to see that she was white-faced and gripping the hand rest.  "When did you learn to do that?  I thought you hadn't driven on the freeway before?"  Diane was surprised, it seemed to her she had just done what everyone else did when entering a freeway.  Again, it was probably observation.  Soon she had her license and was driving everywhere she wanted to go in her used, bright red Mercury convertible, mostly with the top down. She worked in downtown Los Angeles and had been just a rider in a carpool until she was licensed and took her weekly turn with all the guys.   Within a few months she drove to Oregon in her flashy car - no problems.  It was before I-5 was built, so she drove up on Hwy 99, getting lost with everyone else in Sacramento, and winding through the Siskiyou Mountains on mostly two lane roads with strategically placed passing lanes.  Her first grand road trip.  Over the last sixty years she has driven many hundreds of thousands of miles and has visited every state except Alaska - she might have to leave the road and take a cruise to complete the fifty states.

Originally her California license was a letter followed by five digits.  Sometime, long ago, the state re-numbered everyone by putting an additional two digits between the letter and the numbers.  She wonders when it will be necessary to add more digits to accommodate all the drivers in the state. 

She is always excited to be "On the Road Again".

 

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Saturday Stories 05-06-17

Now that Diane is in her seventies it would seem there would be lots of relatives, young and old.  But she is more of an orphan now than ever.  Her sister has chosen to not have a relationship and Diane has finally accepted that and doesn’t make an effort to keep in touch.  Although she does send a birthday card in November as she has for sixty years and always wonders if Marie even opens them.  Oh, well, we must accept what we cannot change.

As a child there were always aunts and uncles and cousins, but all are gone now, except some of the cousins who live in far flung places.  Those relatives all seemed to have old fashioned names.  There were two Aunt Effies, a grandmother Ella, Uncle Homer, Uncle Del, Uncle Lionel, Aunt Marian, Aunt Dee, Uncle Gordon, Aunt Chris, and Diane’s mother’s sisters, Dorothy and Cornelia.  They were almost all country people, who lived on farms, tilling the soil and raising livestock – cows, chickens, ducks, rabbits, even a horse or two.  Diane lived in the suburbs so it was special to go out to visit the relatives on farms.  Everyone told family stories, mostly funny, and shared news of family members.  Some summers there would be family reunions, usually at a park with a lake to provide swimming for all the kids.  The water was so cold and dark, Diane was always afraid to go in very deep.  The dads would put a few watermelons in fishing nets and immerse them in the cold water and there was always a great jar with a spigot, full of lemonade, and a washtub with bottles of beer in ice.   Everyone contributed their very favorite picnic food and eating seemed to go on all day.  One year one of the uncles brought fireworks from out-of-state and lit them over the water when the sun went down. It was very exciting because fireworks were a very rare sight except for the 4^th of July.  

Such nice memories.  Diane wishes she could just tell all of those people in the past how much she cherishes those family memories and how much she misses all of them.  

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Saturday Stories - a poem 11-05-16

It’s Saturday evening and what can I say?

I didn’t accomplish much today.

I did some laundry and put stuff away

And gave KoKo a brushing to keep fleas at bay. 

 

We went for our walks, both morning and night,

KoKo is learning it is not proper to fight.

When other dogs walk by he gives them a fright

When he growls and lunges ‘til they’re out of sight.

 

The biggest job is yet to be done,

Changing clocks is not at all fun,

But do it I must if I’m not going to run

Late all week by watching the sun.

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Saturday Stories - Family Pets 07-16-16

Diane’s family always had pets; an array of cats and a few dogs, bunnies, and Pedro the rooster.  Bingo was actually her sister Marie’s dog – a black cocker spaniel that their dad added to the family before Diane was born.  He lived a long, indulged life.  When Diane was in about the 8^th grade she brought home a lost puppy who lived in a “Fluffo” box for a period of time and acquired the name of Buffo.  He was a Heinz variety sort of dog, all legs and long tail and floppy ears.  Diane’s mother would open the door to the upstairs and say, “Buff, go get Diane.” and Buff would fly up the stairs and leap onto the bed, licking and sniffing and bouncing until Diane was out of bed – grumbling all the way. Buff was a complete clown who took a secret delight in wiping everything off the coffee table with his long, heavy tail.   When Diane graduated from high school and moved to California, Buff stayed at home.  He was joined by Mr. Pennypacker, a part Chihuahua mutt who turned up on the porch one icy winter night, whimpering and asking to be let inside.  He stayed for the rest of the winter and then went his way. But in the fall he came back and stayed another winter and then left and came back another winter.  So, he acquired his name after the traveling salesman who had several families in different towns.   Finally Penny just stayed all the time and was Diane’s mother’s defender in all things.  Once Diane raised her hand in demonstrating something to her mother and Penny about took her hand off.  He thought the hand was raised to strike.

And then there were the cats.  Diane’s stepfather was fond of cats and very good with them.  When the beloved Baby was caught by a dog who ripped her stomach open and was rushed to the vet, the stepdad took care of her with such loving care that she survived and lived to a good old age.  Bunny was a white kitten that Diane brought home, so adorable with pure white fur and a pink nose and paws.  But she was a bit of an idiot and was always crawling into places she shouldn’t and getting stuck.  They would hear her crying and finally locate her and dig her out.  Down the furnace vent one time she was almost a goner. 

All these loving animals who shared the life of the family are gone now, along with mother and stepfather.  But sweet memories remain

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KoKo Ota at six months  August 2014

Saturday Stories - Falling Blossoms 07-09-16

Where Diane grew up there were many fruit trees in the neighborhood and nobody minded if the kids helped themselves.  Old fashioned apples and cherries, pears and apricots thrived, along with every kind of berry and nut that would grow in western Oregon.  She was a tree climber and always thought the best fruit grew at the very top of the tree.  She missed her step once and fell from half way up the Queen Anne cherry tree and knocked the wind out of herself.  Scary, but not the only time. 

One memory she carries close to her heart is the huge cherry tree beside the bus stop.  It was a black cherry, maybe a Bing, but best of all it had millions of white blossoms which would fall like snow when the wind shook the branches.  The breeze would gather the petals into loops and swirls that drifted along the curbside and swarmed across the street.  It was almost better to miss the bus and be late to school, so she could watch the dancing petals.

The orchard lots are gone now and few of the fruit trees remain, they would probably be too old to bear fruit anyway.  But the memories remain. 

 

Almond blossoms along I-5 in central valley  2013

Saturday Stories - Writing 06-18-16

When Diane was growing up she loved to write – stories, poems, limericks, little songs.  During the 40s and 50s there were a number of children’s magazines which took submissions from readers to be printed in one of the issues.  Diane’s favorite was “Playmate” and she was successful a few times, but can no longer remember any of her writings.  Well, some phrases.  She wrote about her uncle “My uncle’s name is Jake.  He has no more hair than a snake……..”  And there was a poem about “The Drought of July” – yes, there are droughts in the western regions of Oregon.   The dust on the country roads was 5 or 6 inches deep and when the rains came the drops created smoking volcanoes until everything turned to a giant mud bath.

She is writing again, but only for her own amusement…  and yours!

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Saturday Stories - Waitressing 06-04-16

Diane could never be a waitress.  She is too much “hands-off”.  When she lived in a rented room in San Francisco, way back in the dark ages, she was desperate for a job.  She could get on as an LD operator with the phone company, but they wouldn’t transfer her seniority from where she lived and worked before, so she refused to work there.  She is much too stubborn for that.  Interestingly if she’d been a guy looking for work on the wires he would have kept his seniority and pay grade.   It was a time of recession all over the country and she was getting desperate – figuring she could keep the room and not eat or eat and live on the streets.  NOT something young women did at the time.  So, she went to work in a bar that served food, after all she had eaten in restaurants and knew what a waitress did.  Since she wasn’t of age to hold such a job they would pay her in cash at a cut rate.  She didn’t realize how exhausting it would be.  For a week she went back to her room after work and fell into bed to sleep as many hours as she could.   About the end of the second week she was getting into her stride and thinking all would be well.  Then one night a customer gave her a “feel” and she told him off.  The manager told her if she couldn’t take the heat she was out of a job.  She was out of a job that night.  What to do?   Her grandfather had recently died and her grandmother was having a hard time being alone.  After all, she had never lived alone in all her 60+ years – it was scary.   Grandmother called granddaughter and invited her to move down to Southern California and live with her for a while.  Diane did it because she knew she would move back to San Francisco some day in the future.  She lived with her grandmother for almost two years and then went off on her own again.  She had a job, a car, a boyfriend and was going to night school.  It seemed like a lot to give up to start all over again in San Francisco.  There weren’t a lot of good memories from her first stay and she never moved back, living in the Los Angeles area all the rest of her years.  And she never attempted waitressing again. 

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Saturday Stories - Yosemite 05-21-16

I imagine it has been fifty years since this happened, but it doesn’t seem that long.  My first husband and I went to Yosemite on a camping trip and camped at the Yosemite Falls campground off the Tioga road.  We had our little pup tent and a free standing awning and it was a nice wilderness sort of campground.  One day we started out to walk to the top of the falls – I don’t remember how far it was, but we planned on only a couple hours.  It was a beautiful trail with lots of spring flowers (even Indian Pipes which I had never seen before) so we stopped a lot to take pictures and we had a picnic lunch of sorts and found a lovely spot by the stream to relax and enjoy.  The trouble was we were not equipped to be gone overnight and the day sort of drifted away.  After enjoying the view from the top of the falls, we realized we could not get back to our campsite before the sun went down.  We decided to hike down to the valley floor where surely we could find a ride back up the Tioga to our campsite. 

At the bottom of the trail out came our thumbs, but nobody would stop to give us a ride.  We inquired at the ranger station about transportation, but they were no help.  We waylaid people getting into their cars – no luck.  Finally it was dark and we went back to the ranger station thinking we could spend the night on the floor.  Finally someone took pity on these two stupid people who had gotten themselves stranded.  He smuggled us into the ranger’s dormitory (I’m not sure they had female rangers then) and showed us a couple cots at the far end of the room.  We slept on top of the bedding with just a wool blanket to keep warm, but it was the middle of the summer so not freezing cold.  In the morning, just before the sun came over the mountains, we slipped down the stairs and headed for the road.  Who should be out for her morning constitutional but the lady in charge of the dormitories.  We obviously had come from one of them and we admitted our transgression, not knowing the name of the ranger who smuggled us in might have kept him out of trouble.  The gorgon was not very nice about the whole thing and had no suggestion on how we could get back to our campsite.

 We walked to the concession area and bought coffee and something to eat, and started making plans to hike the trail back to the top of the falls and on to our campsite.  As we paid the check my husband casually said to the lady at the register, “You wouldn’t know how we could get back to our campsite on the Tioga Road, would you?”  The girl looked thoughtful and said, “Well, you could take the bus.”

 Yes, there was a bus route that would take us right past our campground.  Why nobody else had thought of it is a mystery.  We found out where to catch the bus and were soon on our way.  The driver let us off at the campground turnoff and we walked into our campsite.  That was the last time we ever went for a hike without advanced planning and a day pack in case of emergencies.  I still wonder if the ranger was punished for his good deed.

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