Friday, June 25, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Petzinger Rd.-Columbus

I lived here not quite a full year after the dissolution of my first marriage. This place has some significance primarily because I lived here when I met Marilyn. Over the summer, my middle sister came to Columbus for a summer job between college years and I remember commiserating with her that I didn't know how to meet anyone, let alone someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Later that year it happened. In fact, all of the following occurred while I, then we, for two weeks, lived at 1961 Guildhall Dr. off of Petzinger Rd.

I meet Marilyn

Our first date

A formal affair

Pre-wedding honeymoon: Adventures

Pre-wedding honeymoon: when I asked her to marry me

Our first Christmas: when she accepts

The ceremony was the only thing that happened as scheduled

My other memories of this place pale in comparison to the above and as the above, aren't really of this place. I did enjoy an introductory membership at a rather large local tennis club off of Refugee Road. For $80, I got to play tennis as often as I wanted. They had a surprisingly large number of courts indoors and one clay court outdoors that was worth the heat to play on. Besides there were never any scheduling issues for it. All I had to do was find a partner. Several people were willing to play indoors but only one person was willing to regularly play outdoors with me.

One time after some truly marathon tennis days, I got so sore that I literally had to lift my legs into and out of my car with my hands. What's worse, I drove a stick shift.

While I lived here I was the closest Systems Programmer to the place I worked and while I rarely had to go in, I would frequently be called around 3:00 to 4:00 AM. The problems always seemed to happen when they tried to shut down and bring up CICS. Even if I could remember my instructions to get by the problem given over the phone, I wouldn't be able to because I believe I was usually and technically still asleep. The phone though was a wall mounted phone in the kitchen and while it was only a two-bedroom apartment, I could get to the phone before the second ring. I did it a lot while I was there.

Then there was the time that I was coming back from a work bowling league that I got my 280-Z up to 110 before I chickened out. Not from the speed but because I didn't want to press my luck at getting caught. Columbus is still a speed trap with many roads with limits that are sooo slow.

The second floor on the right. I don't ever remember using the balcony. The summer was too hot and humid and the winter actually had icecycles forming on the inside of the single pane windows.

One last Marilyn memory: I made my pizza for Marilyn exactly once, while I lived here. It had three meats: pepperoni, italian sausage, and capicola ham. It had three cheeses: provolone, aged parmesan, and mozzarella. It had four veggies: ripe olives, and sauteed mushrooms, green peppers and onions. Even the sauce was specially spiced and simmered. All the ingredients had to be purchased at a real Italian Grocery Store on the other side, north, of Columbus. She claimed to love it but also claimed it was too much. Even I could only eat one piece at a sitting but I liked cold pizza the next day, and the next, and the next. She, as I discovered, didn't really like to eat the same thing over and over again. But pizza is different! Surely?

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Charleston Park-Houston


The Charleston Park Apartments had everything a newly married couple could want, a place for a bed, a private swimming pool (at least when we were using it), and economical as we never had to heat it. (I had to stretch for that last one as we did run the air conditioner but for a couple who had just moved to Houston away from the [Ohio] Blizzard of '78 and were swimming in March when the natives were still wearing their winter clothes, the heat from the apartments above and beside us was enough.)

We also had a view, of the parking lot from our bedroom. We even had an attached laundry room, unfortunately one that was shared by others and one which we had to get to from the outside. Still, after living in hotels and eating at restaurants for three weeks, we were so ready to call any non-hotel place a home. Before it got too blazingly hot, we even used the apartments' tennis courts. (No longer there.)

Houston truly has perfect weather, about four weeks of it: two weeks in the spring and two weeks in the fall. The other times are either a damp chill or a humid heat. I still comment about Houston's deadly 98's, 98% humidity at 98 degrees. While I worked at Greenway Plaza for Coastal Corporation, I could look out in the afternoon and see it raining from the humidity hitting 100% and see sprinklers on as well.

All of this is why we ended up traveling all around Texas almost every weekend. Several of my already written Memories of Marilyn feature activities that we did while we lived in this apartment.

Picnic on the Floor

Is Pearl there?

The original 'Fun Hunt'. My two younger sisters came down to visit us ten and a half months after we had moved to share Christmas with us. They both ended up moving to Texas later, my youngest for just a brief while but the next to the youngest stayed long enough to get married and have four children before moving [back] to Ohio. The "fun hunt" became our children's birthday thing after they could read but all while we were in Houston we continued the Christmas / New Years Day tradition of going up to the Woodlands, which was also started right from this apartment.

Seeing Texas: Laredo

Unlike the current exit where the north bound lanes of Main Street are blocked and every exiting car is forced to turn right, when we lived their there was no gate and no boulevard apartment entrance. Instead, it was one inbound lane and one outbound lane with a crossover in the median between the southbound lanes of Main Street and the north bound lanes. This is how we came to have our "accident."

Seeing Texas: San Antonio

Seeing Texas: Mustang Island

Then there were the cockroaches. I don't know whether it would have done any good but the apartment complex only sprayed apartments that requested it, not the whole building at a time. All this did was chase the cockroaches from the just sprayed apartment to the adjoining ones until the poison had worn off in the previously sprayed apartment and the newly infested ones finally got the apartment management to spray.

My parents and oldest sister, still younger than me, with her daughter came to visit in our first Houston summer while we were in this apartment--in a truck. It was before seat belt laws and they rode in the back, in the covered bed of the truck, which was well padded.

All in all, there are many fond memories of Texas due to this apartment and even fond memories of this apartment due to Marilyn.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Westbury-Houston


Our first house together needed work, a lot of it. Once we moved in our trips around Texas ended for a long time.

First, the previous owner smoked, like a chimney. Before we could paint we had to wash the walls, rough textured walls. We went through several rags and bottles of Formula 409. The walls ran with brownish-orangish runoff. Eventually we replaced all the carpets because several steam cleanings just didn't get the smell completely gone.


We leveled the house. Most of Houston is on top of clay, which inflates with moisture, shrinks with dehydration, and flows slowly. Even though the unleveling of the house broke some brick and cracked grout, the leveling did even more.

In addition to being a great tour guide, Marilyn was also a great general contractor. She always found the best person for the job, whether it was skip troweling drywall or color matching oddly colored grout and matching replacement bricks for the soft adobe kind.

We replaced the roof after hurricane Alicia. One time when we were painting our largely empty front room, the children's play room at the time, a couple knocked on the door and asked when the place would be ready to rent.


We chopped out about eight feet of bamboo in the back that had encroached from another yard. My grandmother even helped. They got rid of the Mimosa Tree.

Yes, a lot about living in Westbury was about the house. Even more was about our family, which we were having trouble getting started. In fact, we were just about to go in for fertility testing, me, when we had a relaxing orientation trip to Amdahl Headquarters. Then we couldn't stop them. (There must be something about Houston. My sister moved down and had four children, the last birth twins.)

What to do with three young children? The two oldest got to go to the Jewish Community Center's day camp. The oldest went to a church sponsored Nursery School where one of the "instructors" tried to teach her to be right handed. We also got a note from the school that she was stealing other children's Cheetos. Our favorite destination in Houston was Bayou Bend, Ima Hogg's place left to the public. Children weren't allowed in the house itself but we could pretend the massive front yard and garden were ours.

Our neighbor across the street became a local "grandma" to our oldest, even coming to visit us in Fremont after we moved. The neighborhood was filled with children around the same age as our own. It's hard to believe that we allowed them to roam around so freely. And freely is certainly the operative word for my son. Once he found water, he would get his diaper soaked so it came off easily. He liked to roam free. (Most of the time this was in the back yard.) He also liked to climb. The combination of chairs, booster seat, and miscellaneous other stuff he put together to reach the cookie jar... He made it past his fourth birthday, and then we moved.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Irony on the Road

Because of my unknown time to be spent in Houston, originally I thought to stop at a restaurant and have some crawfish, I planned a short day. It turned out not only not short but I started late as well.

I did start early yesterday because of the long day and the heat. For the first couple of hours, I could only look at the scenery on one side of the road because of the sun. Knowing that today was short, I not only woke late but spent my time getting ready. After all, I did want to miss Houston's rush hour. I think I did but with traffic that heavy, particularly on I-610 between I-10 and 59 and again on 59 going north around downtown, who can tell.

When 59's HOV lane came up, almost a completely separate road, I was so excited that I took it, completely ignoring my printed Google Maps directions. (Not to complain but they are hard to read. I will take care of the Google caused problem tonight, namely: all the white space between the instructions and the distance makes it easy to move up or down a line. The rest is my fault: 1) I don't wear my reading glasses when I ride, in fact, shouldn't wear them for distance. 2) For the tank bag to fit well on my gas tank, it is rather close my body and it is difficult to depress my chin enough to see the paper. Which brings us to 3), the tank bag viewing area appears large enough for an 8 1/2 by 13 inch paper and my mere 11 inches slide down. What's more, the directions I'm most interested in are generally at the bottom of the page.)

While I have most assiduously avoided learning the temperature thinking that that might psychologically make it seem hotter, today I took my jacket off until it felt like I was sunburned. I normally wear it for safety reasons, including bug protection. Although long sleeved, my shirt literally had no SPF factor. I can also feel that my face is sunburned even though I put on SPF 70 sunscreen.

On the ride from New Braunfels I found a pace truck, a big semi going the speed I wanted to go and able to block some of the headwind. Finally I had to pull off and get gas and lost it. Almost as soon as I got back on the Expressway, I found another one. After this one through some road debris at me, I realized that my earlier truck had weighted mud flaps on his trailer and this one didn't. I gave up on the modest attempt, I was pretty far away in both cases, to draft.

After the HOV lane ended, I found myself beside a big rig that wanted to move over--into my lane. I wasn't about to argue so sped up, closing the gap between me and a pickup that happened also to be going the speed I wanted to. Sometime later I was thinking to myself that Houston really has a pervasive odor of burned hydrocarbons. But then I thought back to when I was in stop and go rush hour like traffic and hadn't noticed this odor. Once again I sped up, got around that pickup and was breathing better smelling air.

Sleeping in this morning reminded me that my travel plans didn't take into account the time zone changes. Not only is it harder to get up an hour earlier on successive days, but my arrival the night before is later than I had hoped. All of this brings me back to the reason today ended up being such a long day, and the irony of it. After following and not following the details of my Google Map directions, I finally arrive at my destination, a specific hotel in Marshall. Since I do not know whether or not I can maintain my schedule, I typically don't make reservations but depend on the surplus of hotel space. (In now my third cross-country trip by car and motorcycle, I have never had any problem just dropping in and getting a room.) Not so tonight in Marshall, TX. Not to denigrate Marshall, but I don't know of anything there that would fill up over five hotels. The only explanation I could think of is that this is overflow from the Gulf cleanup efforts.

What makes this so ironic is that this was the only hotel I had originally planned on staying at. I was to be camping every other night. For a brief moment, I thought about camping tonight but then as hot as I was, the air conditioning just called out to me.

Instead, I got out my directions for tomorrow and followed them into the night until I found myself a little hope, Hope, Arkansas, that is.

Pictures and memories of living in Houston to come.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Camping in TX

The 60 miles of Ranch and Farm roads were truly what riding a motorcycle is all about. Even though the Guadalupe River was technically flooded and one culvert swale actually had water running over the road, it was great to be off of I-10. If I never ride into another headwind, it will be too soon.

The last time I saw the Guadalupe River was when Marilyn and I shared a canoe trip down it. Instead of being flooded, it was so shallow that the danger was grounding. In fact, our canoe did ground once and I simply stepped out of it. She was a true adventure guide. (More of this in my next posting when I write about our travels from our home base(s) in Houston.)

With my experience in Arizona, going 80 into a headwind and only getting 100 miles to a tank, I bought gas in Balmorhea after only 106.8 miles on the tripometer because Ft. Stockton was 46 miles further on. I then held my speed to 70 mph. About midway between Ft. Stockton and Ozona, at 106 miles on the tripometer, I had to go to the reserve tank. Forty miles later, right here in fact, the reserve tank went dry. Thank goodness when I travel long distances, I carry a couple half-liter fuel bottles. Unfortunately, I didn't have any funnel. Thank goodness Texas is also big on litter. I quickly found a plastic bottle and then had to figure out how to cut the bottom off with finger nail clippers and nose hair scissors. They didn't work. Then I remembered the motorcycle's tool kit. With the slotted screw driver I punched a hole in a side near the bottom and used the scissors to cut it off. The gas poured very well so I kept my new funnel and thus picked up at least one piece of litter.

I made it to the next gas station and filled the tank and my bottles with 4.395 gallons after driving 157.1 miles on that tank plus.

Afterwards I kept my speed down between 65 and 70 all while the speed limit was 80.

On this side of El Paso, I went through an ICE inspection point. I couldn't hear what the agent asked me, no ear holes, except for the word "citizen." I said yes and he motioned me on. Afterwards I think I reconstructed what he said: "I only have one question for you. Are you a citizen?" While I wouldn't have enjoyed the delay however short since I do happen to have my passport, I almost wish I had said, "Si."

Here I am. Doing the best kind of Texas camping.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Las Cruces, NM

Nope, didn't live here either. Once again it is on the most direct route to where one of the places I did live, Houston. Any excuse to ride my motorcycle.

Once again, I am camping in style--with air conditioning. As I was riding through the heat, even composing a twoem about it, I was vacillating on whether I really wanted to camp in the heat or not. Then there came a stretch right after Tucson where the wind died but the heat didn't that settled it once and for all. My excuse is that I have a long day of riding tomorrow, over 600 miles, to get to a place I definitely do want to camp. But more on that tomorrow, or the next day as I'm not sure that my definite camping spot has any Internet service.

My twoem:

The stark and endless expanse is truly a sight to see.
The heat and overly bright sun is not the place for me.
I rode as fast as I could.

In the heat I couldn't help thinking of how all my motorcycle accessories and clothes are black, my chaps, my jacket, my helmet, the tank bag, the sissy bar bag, and the saddle bags. I knew I was going to take some heat on this trip and have purposefully not looked up how much heat I'm taking. I did consume over four liters of water and a full 32 oz. Gatorade without needing to do the name sake of my motorcycle tours.

Once again I have good news and bad news. Bringing the camelback along has been such a relief. Being able to drink while riding has truly made a huge difference. The bag is even kept quite cool, if you fill it with refrigerated water. The only problem is, the drinking tube warms up to the ambient temperature in between my sips. This means that I mostly drink warm water because once it starts getting cool, I stop drinking.

This is the third time I've been in New Mexico but my first time in Las Cruces. I'm not spending enough time here to even determine whether or not I want to come back, but I know if I ever do, it won't be close to Summer Solstice.


[Head waters (gorge) of the Rio Grande near Taos]

Marilyn and I visit New Mexico for the first time in 2004 seeing Albuquerque, Santa Fe, and Taos. During and immediately after that visit we talked about coming back to walk around the Anasazi ruins and return to Taos at Christmas time. It was not to be as the very next year she was diagnosed with the cancer that eventually took her life.

[Seeing petroglyphs outside of Albuquerque]

Since this is a motorcycle trip, I did want to plug my new helmet. Except for the fact that I probably would have dropped it like I did my old one, I should have gotten this one earlier. The latest model SHOEI is really well engineered. The ear holes are gone making it much quieter but all the additional vents and the expanded area in front of the mouth actually makes it reasonably cool. I believe I really will appreciate the chin mesh accessory. I did get a live bee inside my old helmet. I stopped to let it out because I didn't want the air pressure blowing it back onto my skin. Now I'll just get stung in the throat. If I ever get to a climate that might fog up my visor, I may also appreciate the nose guard. At least it's helping keep my face from sun burn.

And to close: I don't know how the Arizonans get anywhere. I was getting 100 miles on a tank of gas with the head wind (and my speed). There was one time that I thought seriously of going the opposite direction to avoid the headwind but didn't because I would have probably had a headwind that direction too and it would be going the wrong way.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Blythe, CA



I've never lived in Blythe. In fact, this is the first time I've ever been in it. I'm here for two reasons: It is as far as I wanted to go in one day. It will allow me to pass all the way through Arizona tomorrow, even reach Las Cruces, NM, because I've been in Phoenix in the summer before. The hotel has air conditioning.

Really I had planned on camping tonight, really. Why I'm not is a good news bad news kind of story.

It really started last night as I got all packed in what has to be considered good news. The bad news is that it took me until after midnight what with getting clean sheets on my bed and folding the clothes I washed along with the sheets I had just taken off. (Getting the bed clean and laundry done is definitely good news.)

But this meant that I ended up sleeping on the couch, in my clothes, not all that well and definitely not all that long. Bad news.

But with all of that going on, I still got out in reasonable time. Definitely good news. Since I remembered going through Kansas in June of last year and feeling that 103 degree heat, I knew I would have to dress cool. Good news! I bought some mesh mountaineering shirts with my REI dividend that wick water away from the skin. Twenty-eight miles into the ride, Woodside, I pulled off to put on another layer and get out the "heat-troller" for my heated gloves. Stopping bad, having something warmer good.

Two hundred miles later, I was too hot. Since it also happened to be lunch time, I cooled off, ate, and took off the layer I had added, opened the vents to my jacket, and switched to my summer gloves.

Fifty miles later, I was still hot. Bad news! Fortunately I still had some cooling things that I could do, including taking off my chaps and opening up the scoop vents in my jacket. Good news. In the process of stowing my just removed chaps, I knocked my helmet off of my motorcycle seat and either the visor bouncing on my foot as I tried to save it or the concrete broke it. Definitely bad news.

Even worse, I rode for the next 75 miles to get to some civilization that might have a motorcycle gear store with my eyes watering from the wind. I asked at my next fill up and the guy seemed confident so I followed his directions. The good news is that I rode five miles each way on a rather fun road for motorcycles but no gear store. I did, however, see a UPS store so I decided to address the root cause and improve my storage by sending a few less needed things ahead. They were very helpful and gave me very clear directions to a Cycle Gear store really close the expressway. I bought a new helmet and was on my way, again. My old one really did need replacing.

The really bad news is that all those delays for cold and heat and storage and breakage, put me in Los Angeles during rush hour. The good news is that California allows lane splitting. The bad news is that I did that for over 30 miles.

At least the wind stopped being directly in my face, which helped my mileage. Of course, it waited to do so until I reached the desert. I was still committed to reach Blythe as not making a distance would throw all of my planning off. This meant that I had to ride after dark. Now the desert and rocky outcroppings are particularly beautiful in the setting sun and twilight. After dark, though, I couldn't read my printed directions on how to get to the tent camping area, which I consider good news.

Even though it costs substantially more, I'm sitting here in air conditioning and have six fewer miles to go tomorrow.

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Cupertino+

All the time we lived here, in Cupertino, we had a contract to buy the house we eventually moved into in Fremont. The sellers were stalling and our two months of temporary living became almost three.

During all of this time Marilyn drove our oldest daughter to the school she would be going to, in fact, all of our children eventually went there. The school delivery and pickup service commuting made Marilyn want to back out of the contract. (We eventually discovered that they were waiting on their condo to be finished. How they were able to stretch us out I don't know but Marilyn and I both blamed our Real Estate Agent.)

Still, living in Cupertino had some good points. It still had a lot of small town aspects in 1986. The Frontier Land playground had real wood made up to look like a small sized set for a Western Movie. We could find parking at all of the parks when we wanted to be there. And most of all, we were so close the Peninsula as if to already be there. Every weekend had us out making some new discovery. Indeed, this set the stage for many weekend trips to the Ocean, Heritage Grove on Alpine, Los Trancos, ... Marilyn was a big fan of combining learning with exercise, which made Los Trancos particularly good.

The best part of this place was the orange tree right in the back yard. I know I had so many that I got acid blisters. I think everyone else was a little more controlled. (It's still there! I almost thought to try and pick one from the school side but thought better of it.)

Plus the school right next door had a playground just perfect for our age of children. We also took advantage of that until our oldest daughter lost a tooth in the ground cover. I think her brother was involved in some way either by helping to complete its coming out or by causing her to drop it when she was showing us. She was devastated. We helped her compose a suitable note to the Tooth Fairy and low and behold she got the most money for it she ever had.

Since my job at Amdahl headquarters started the beginning of July and Marilyn and the children were staying in Houston until school started in California, I had a much smaller temporary living place in Sunnyvale. I had a nice short commute while Marilyn had to supervise getting us packed. I got one trip a month home to Houston for basically a long weekend each time and Marilyn got one house hunting trip sans kids.

While we did house hunt, finding the place in Fremont, whose major selling point was the five bedrooms and great school district, we also used the front wheeled drive rental for some serious curve traveling on the Peninsula. On one of those trips we were stuck in traffic on Skyline Blvd. We didn't see the accident but did see the life flight helicopter come for at least one of the tandem motorcycle riders. After I got my motorcycle much later, I stayed away from that stretch of 35 for this very reason.

The best part of Marilyn's visit was the white lace body stocking she wore for me. (No, no pictures, just memories.) I kept getting her gifts that I thought would keep on giving but with children apt to come in the bedroom at all hours, they rarely did, keep giving that is.

In reality, I didn't spend all that much time here. Since I had no one to go home to, I worked longer hours. After we got the house contract, one Saturday I hiked up Mission Peak and proclaimed that I wanted to do it regularly and often. I didn't.

The long and the short of it is that I really don't remember where these apartments were. They may have been torn down because this empty field seems to be in the place I seemed to remember driving to. There were a couple apartment complexes on Mary but neither of them had the configuration I remember. Oh well, this field is it. Who will tell me differently, or care?

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Fremont

As you will see from future posts on my "Living" Memories Tour, the absolutely longest time I have ever spent at any one place by years more than any other place was here: http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=37.54408,-121.94882&ll=37.54408,-121.94882&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1, 40939 Cantare Pl. We moved in on my youngest daughter's third birthday and out 19 years and 8 months later.

Through our children we made many friends and had many more experiences than can possibly be told in one blog entry, so I'm going to be very selective on what I actually include. Even though I haven't posted anything in it for over a year, I'll save the details for my Memories of Marilyn blog.



How we decided on this place, if written about at all, will be in my next posting. We paid top dollar for the place, at least $20,000 more than our real estate agent was recommending we pay and while they did fix a few things based on the inspection, in short order, we replaced the roof and just had to get the place painted, which we did yet again and again. Not only was it a hideous green but there was a painted patch that was even more hideous. In subsequent years we redid the bathrooms (one of them twice), the kitchen, and replaced all of the windows and sliding doors except for the ja-lousy windows in the front.



The new owners removed the olive tree just a week before these pictures were taken. We talked about it but our children liked climbing in it so much when they were young and then we were looking to move. They have kept our last painting job though.

We also landscaped, replaced retaining walls and decks a couple of times, planted fruit trees (orange, apricot, and apple), and removed a spa. The only people using it were our children, as a swimming pool, and we instead joined a swim club.

We joined the New In Town Club, Fremont Parent Co-op Nursery, and later on the Fremont Freewheelers. Our daughters joined Brownies but either dropped out when they got to Girl Scouts or, in the case of our youngest, didn't proceed to Girl Scouts. By the time our youngest was doing Brownies, our son was doing Cub Scouts and then Boy Scouts, eventually getting his Eagle ranking. In the '90s, his troop won the fall Jamboree four times, which meant that they had to host the event the following year. Everyone was called in to help, including his sisters. Our youngest wanted to quit the Brownies and join the Boy Scouts because they got to do stuff.

While we got to do things and met people who did things because of our house in Fremont, most of my memories are actually away from the house itself. At least through our oldest child's high school, we had a tradition of Thanksgiving on the Road, taking our children out of school for the first three days and returning on Thanksgiving Day after a meal at a restaurant. We literally traveled all over California with at least one such Thanksgiving in Reno. It pleased us to no end that our oldest daughter wanted to know if she and her boyfriend, (They've since married.), could meet us for the traditional trip.

Christmas was a stay at home celebration though with just a very few of them away. The opening of presents and big meal was followed by our traditional walk, a tradition we started in Houston. While the children complained, they all have exceeded our modest attempts to get them away from their toys and work off a little of the food. Our oldest and her husband have hiked in Kings Canyon with some excessively long days. Our youngest and her husband hiked over a third of the way on the Pacific Crest Trail just last year before yet another personal tragedy pulled them off of it. Our son backpacked extensively with the scouts, Philmont, and even did it on his own in the Sierras.

Then there were the trips that Marilyn and I took. We celebrated our multiples of 10-year anniversaries downhill skiing at Badger Pass. Other anniversaries would find us cross-country skiing at Bear Valley. As a family and as just the two of us we car camped all over California. Calveras Big Trees was memorable because our son got between a mother bear and her two cubs. Fortunately she didn't notice. Camping at Mono Lake was memorable because we lost our brakes somewhere on the eastern downslope of Tioga Pass, that and the fact we moved our five person tent to another spot by putting a person on each corner and walking through the campgrounds.

With living in one place for so long, looking back we managed to cumulatively do quite a bit. Once our children were grown, we went wild with trips; a trip to New Mexico featuring Santa Fe and Taos; a trip to Washington State with stays at Paradise Lodge and the lodge at Crater Lake on our way; a trip to Sequoia National Park with snow outside our lodge and temperatures approaching 100 at the End of the Road in Kings Canyon; a trip to Glacier National Park, where we stayed in three of the lodges, liking Many Glaciers the best; and, not to cop out but, many more.

We lived here during the Loma Prieta earthquake when it took me two and a half hours to get home from Sunnyvale. It took 30 minutes to get a dial tone. We watched the Bay Bridge and Expressways collapse. We saw three story buildings in the Marina District sandwich and burn. We lived here during the Oakland firestorm that burned over 1,800 homes. And we lived here during 9/11/2001. I was listening to the radio on my way to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned when I heard about it. I called Marilyn and had her turn on the TV. After my appointment, I joined her and we watched the tragedy unfold. It was soon thereafter that we started looking for a place in Pacifica.

Eating out in the SF Bay area is definitely different than where we grew up in Ohio. Unfortunately, Fremont didn't have all that many great eating places. Our two favorite just happened to be close together: China Chili and Sala Thai. We actually discovered Sala Thai by accident. There was some function at China Chili that meant we couldn't eat there so we drove around the corner and in the same mall-like area was Sala Thai.

While our still most favored Thai restaurant would be the Royal Thai in San Rafael, it was good to have one closer to home.

Coming up next in my "Living" Memories Tour is a couple of temporary living spots. Since they were so shortly lived in, I'll just group them into one posting.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Whizzing Through America: Living Memories Tour, Pacifica

I've already written about the ongoing joke my wife and I had about writing a travelogue called "Whizzing Through America," just because she had to stop frequently to use facilities. Now it is just my excuse to ride my motorcycle. Last summer I RV'd with my parents, largely still to be written, but did have a motorcycle ride before the RV and after as I rode home. Both of those rides involved long days of riding and very little writing as I had arrival deadlines. Since I'm allowing myself a little more time this time, I've decided to visit the places that I've resided, in California, Texas, and Ohio. I'll even include one place in West Virginia, my mother's parents' place as I stayed there for at least three summers as a teenager helping them out.

Since my SPOT automatically renewed, I might as well be getting some use out of it.

This is where I live now, for the last year with my son, daughter-in-law, and for the last six months my granddaughter: http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=37.59462,-122.4616&ll=37.59462,-122.4616&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

The previous year and a half, I lived here alone. Believe me, company is better.

We bought the place as a healing place and while it didn't achieve that, it had some good living memories, however much overwhelmed by one of dying. Yes, I lost my wife while we lived here and that is the memory that refuses to die. But that being said, I'll now turn to other memories.



One of the reasons we bought the place was its ready to move in condition. Then we put a hardwood floor down in the Living Room / Dining Room and redid the guest bathroom.

Since the place is actually smaller than the place we moved from, with a slightly larger yard and more of that usable, we had to buy a storage shed. I have over 20 boxes of my reading books in it on top of the books I have on the shelves that Marilyn and I made in a wood working class.


The place came with a zip line. Marilyn went down it a couple of times, most recently Easter of 2007. It was a great celebration complete with a chocolate Easter Bunny topped birthday cake for my oldest daughter and the mandatory chocolate Easter Egg hunt.

While most of the plants have seen better days before being under my care, we had the place looking quite nice for my youngest daughter's wedding thanks to landscaping. (My son and daughter-in-law are doing a much better job than I ever did, now. Although, my son has it in for a few of the bushes and all of the agapanthus.)


One of my daughters' projects was to take my absolutely no maintenance front yard consisting of dead sod and making it a low maintenance planting of ground cover and hardy plants, all but one of which are also deer resistant.


One of my son's major projects, just recently completed, was to filter all of the gravel in the auxiliary parking area and place a better plant retarding ground cloth under the gravel. We moved a few loads of dirt and other debris to the dump.

Coming up next: Fremont. If you think the above memories are few for the number of years I have lived in Pacifica, just think how drastically I will need to reduce/summarize almost 20 years worth of memories.

Silly Songs. Seriously?

The following is an "off-book" speech I gave at the Pacifica PM Toastmasters Club. It was off-book because my next speech was to feature an anecdote. It would have been a much better speech if I had the time to actually have played the silly songs but in five to seven minutes, I couldn't even hum a few bars, for which everyone was relieved. I had a handout with just some of the "silly songs" and their YouTube url on it but here, you get a direct link. Enjoy!

I believe my father first introduced me to silly songs, silly Navy songs, even though my mother wouldn’t let him teach me most of the verses. It didn’t even matter that he couldn’t sing. The “silliness” is mostly in the words, the catchy music just helps you remember them, as in many of the tunes are the kind that get stuck in your mind. Don’t worry, while I may quote a line or two, I don’t intend to sing anything. To this day, however, I still wonder what words in “My Gal’s a Corker” my mother wouldn’t let him use in front of me.

[I could only remember three verses of the one song my father taught me of the one that follows but one of the attendees gave me another one:
The chicken in the Navy they say is mighty fine,
But one got on the table and started keeping time.

The biscuits in the Navy they say are mighty fine,
But one rolled off the table and killed a pal of mine.

The coffee in the Navy they say is mighty fine,
It looks like muddy water and tastes like iodine.

My new one: The pay in the Navy they say is mighty fine,
They give you fifty dollars and take back forty-nine.
I'm sure none of the recruits learned these until after they joined and maybe they are a part of why I never did.]

I learned there are lots and lots of silly songs with absolutely no questionable words in them at all. I’m sure everyone here knows a silly song or two, or like me, parts of lots of them. They are hard to forget. There was a time that I tried to but now I have a granddaughter and they are coming back to me. When I try to sing anything but a lullaby or a silly song to her, she literally growls. [Critics!]

A lot of silly songs are children’s songs. I just bought a whole album of Burl Ives’ children’s songs just for “It’s written on the rainbow in letters made of gold. It’s written on the rainbow this wisdom to behold. … If you walk the streets, you will have no cares, if you walk the lines and not the squares. As you go through life make this your goal: watch the donut, not the hole.” Then there are songs from the album, “Peter, Paul, and Mommy,” “I’m being swallowed by a boa constrictor. ... Oh dread, oh dread. He's up to my [loud swallow]” Pete Seeger had a children’s story on one of his albums that included a silly song: “Way down south in the Yankety-Yank, a bullfrog jumped from bank to bank, just because he had nothing better for to do.”

As I grew up and went to youth camps, I learned many new songs that substituted the lyrics to well known songs: To "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" we sang “My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school. … Us brats go marching on.” Instead of "On Top of Old Smoky," it was “On top of spaghetti all covered with cheese…” Then there were the new ones: The Mountain Dew song with verses like “My Auntie June bought a brand new perfume it had such a sweet smelling peu. To her surprise when she had it analyzed, it was some of that good ol’ Mountain Dew.”

Most of the silly songs are for a much older audience and amazingly aren’t all the products of comedians. Quite a few are for or to protest wars, promote or castigate drinking, or were created to help people get through some truly rough times like the great depression. Certainly some of the depression era songs promoted drinking in a way that lifted spirits, pun intended. I think that was the original source of some live music I heard at a Librarian Association Convention I attended early in my career: “The Occasional Drinker.” The “drinker” in this case only drank on two occasions: alone or with someone, daylight or darkness, with a meal or not, … The net result was that he was drinking all the time.

While many music artists may produce a “silly song,” such as: the Kingston Trio’s “MTA” or Merle Haggard’s “Rainbow Stew,” which may also have it’s origins in a depression era song, most are the product of musical or otherwise comedians. The Smothers Brothers were known for singing their comedy. My favorite one of theirs was the about the city girl who moved to the country and died of health.

While I dearly like Roger Miller’s “do-wacka-do” song, the one that the chorus goes: “Girls in the front, girls in the back, and further in the back is money in a sack. I wish I had your happiness and you had do-wacka-do.” Ray Stevens had quite a few hits: “Guitarzan,” “The Streak,” and “I am my own Grandpa.” You have to listen carefully but it is almost logical that “[He] is his own Grandpa.”

My current favorites are almost anything by the Arrogant Worms, true Canadian patriots out to popularize places in Canada like the Northern Ontario “Mounted Animal Nature Trail” or indeed all of Canada, currently number two in size with a shot at number one if Russia keeps on shrinking, unless Canada loses Quebec. But of theirs, I particularly like “History is made by Stupid People.” After a few examples they get into advising that “if you want to go down in history, do something dumb before you die.” It ends with “don’t worry if your children are playing video games and watching TV, at least they aren’t making history.”

From “Yankee Doodle Dandy” and “Oh Susanna” through a long history of songs that make children of all ages smile or laugh right out loud, we are better off for all of this silliness, seriously.

Now that we are at the end of my augmented speech, you may also enjoy the following:

Arrogant Worms: "Jesus' Brother Bob"

Roger Miller: "Chug-a-lug"

Ray Stevens: "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival"