The Writings of Bob: The hearts of Moscow

The Writings of Bob: The hearts of Moscow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qq7ncjhSqtk&list=RDqq7ncjhSqtk

The hearts of Moscow

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qq7ncjhSqtk&list=RDqq7ncjhSqtk

My Friends in Russia, Ukraine, and Points Beyond.

Though we are far apart, speak different languages, have differing ideologies, yet, we are just alike.  Born in different environments,  we all know crying, despair,  joy, and peace.  I admire the Russian people; they are a strong people.  I wish to try to send a video from Moscow...Traumeri has a special place in the heart of the Russian people...please observe....

MARCHING TO YOUR OWN DRUMMER 8/20/2017

I have digressed a little and am focusing on the tactics I used in transforming twelve year old Bob into the person he needed to be in order to escape alcoholism and apply himself to his studies so he could be more successful.  This would impact his life in such away that he could attract one Blythe Spanos who had her own set of problems which is discussed in previous writings.  These stories are in reverse chronological order because I do not know how to edit them so that they flow from top to bottom.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I knew what made Bob tick because I WAS little Bob at one time...back in 1952.  Even though I knew, yet I wanted to lead him out via conversation and let him see for himself.  We had many conversations during the evenings in my back yard.  I asked him if he felt loved by his parents.  He thought" for a long time and finally said "no".   I asked him why not and he replied " I believe they love me, but they don't show it in ways that I understand..they are generous (pause) but that is not love....I do not ever remember hearing them say I love you...they never hug me....they seem critical, comparing me to other kids who made straight A's.......I feel like I am their hobby, a show case kid in order to give them bragging rights,   they want me to march to their drummer and I want to be my own drummer".   I was amazed at how fluent he (I)  was.   I said: "This must cause you pain".   He said  "Yes...the other day when I was walking home from 8th grade, I cried all the way home."   Little by little I was leading him out to the point where he felt so very comfortable in opening himself up and seemed to forget he was talking to a complete stranger. I had poured a scotch and soda and was sipping on it.  "Mr. Tye....do you drink"?   "Yes".   "Why?"    Now this little guy had turned the tables on me,  so I opened up and said  "Bob, I have my own pain and this helps me through the sad moments."   Bob really opened up with both barrels:  "Then, you should have no trouble in understanding why I burn incense, enjoy candle light and kerosene lantern light, maps on the walls of my room, have secret bushes where I can hide  (pause)   I love lanterns with their soft glow..like a little family lives inside and knows I am there."  He then said:  "I need to be getting home.Dad told me to be home by nine...."    I asked: "Are you afraid of your Father?"   "Yes, sometimes, he can get so mad and it scares me"   We arose and Bob ran and threw his arms around me and blurted out:  "Mr Tye...I wished you were my Father."  With that he was gone and left me alone, oh so alone..I stood there and looked down and my tears ran down my cheeks.  In the process of time, Bob began to see that his behaviour was simply his acting out what he thought of himself, sort of a "I don't want to disappoint you".  He pulled himself up and began to make good grades again. He went on to earn a PhD in child psychiatry, he retired early and began a search for...just the right woman. Funny thing, he met Blythe who was looking for....just the right man.  Now, back to Bob and Blythe !

ME, MYSELF, AND I

I feel like the second cousin to a discouraged Fuller Brush salesman whose opener was : "Lady, you don't want to buy any brushes, do you" ?.....My life seems filled with more than its share of supernatural events that defy explanation.  Explanations are weak excuses for the stance that if I can't explain it, it isn't true.  I find encouragement in that if it isn't believed, at least it might be entertaining.  Some might classify me as a liar and others that I am crazy and then some may combine the two and think of me as a crazy liar...you know..the best of both worlds.  I am feeling my way through the story of Bob and Blythe; two real people who existed and do exist in time and place.  Bob was a very successful doctor of the disturbed, Blythe was a successful writer for a major newspaper and the two were brought together by a Divine guiding hand.  Bob was successful because of a mentor who came his way back in 1952.  That mentor was me as I was in current times.  I was introduced to alcohol at an early age and became an alcoholic and whose life was affected in tragic ways because of it.  We now enter the world of time travel  and I was brought back to 1952 in my state of being as I was seventy years later.  My job was to mentor myself to the point of changing the course of little Bob's path in life so that he would not turn out like I did.  Had I not been successful in my mentoring, I would never  have met Blythe.  Arrangements were made so that I became the resident of  a house for sale that was across from where I lived then and five houses up.   Rules were given to me, the breaking of any one of these would cancel the whole operation.  I could not reveal who I really was; I could not demonstrate my knowledge of details regarding the lives of little Bob nor his parents. I could not warn any one of things to beset them of which I knew, but they didn't know yet.  I began by knocking on the door of the Fishback residence and meeting my Father face to face.  I had to over come my desire to hug my Father,  and weep my heart out,  "Mr. Fishback, I just moved into 3534 Rosemary, and I have seen your son delivering papers, would you ask him to start throwing the News Press to my home"?   He was very obliging.....That very day, Bob stopped by to give me a paper and we visited.  I was a cute little guy, small but wiry.  I knew well his likes...somewhat of a mystic, liked an ambiance of flickering candles, and maps of the Western U.S. pinned to his bedroom wall.  He did not know why he liked them, but my perspective allowed me to know exactly why.  Anticipating all this, I made my back yard to his expected liking. There were a few big Oak trees and I made winding paths that circled around bushes (secret bushes) and hung kerosene lanterns from the lower branches of the trees.  During that first meeting, I showed Bob my garden. He was mesmorized and said the oddest thing...."Mr Tye  ( my new name)....you are just like me"!   No pun intended, but I was beside myself at such a comment ...(to be continued)

WE ARE MICROCOSMS, THE EPITOME OF THE UNIVERSE

Anne Blythe Fishback was well past her zenith, but I was further past my zenith than she was. It was as if she was racing to catch up with me.  There are very poetic ways to describe growing old; On our Veranda #2, she suddenly exclaimed:  "Nature is so beautiful in the death of its glory...the green of Spring is now the glory in its death........The warm colors of its leaves, just waiting and...the wind is up !    Yes, we both were well past our Zenith, I was grey headed and she chose golden curls to replace the lovely blonde she once was.  Fun loving impishness was replaced with a reflecting of what we once were.....Blythe was and is a deep thinker, she was fascinated by time, and what it really was.  She continues to be so very fascinated with my life as a teen ager. It was like she saw me as a sort of microcosm of what we all are and were.   One night, on our veranda, and after a few rounds of her favorite wine, she said:    "I think time is a perception, not a mathematical reality.  Time is an awareness of changes and the distances between them".  She hated digital clocks.  "There is no spacial awareness like the moving of hands on a clock face; It's just the moment that counts, no awareness of the future; no awareness of the past...like a rock besides the road which says to me..we just are; we just am."   As I said,she was so curious about my youth, especially the Summer of 1953 when I was fourteen.  I spent that Summer with Grandma Bertha and Aunt Mildred (Mimi_)......We made several car trips to Tulsa so she could  taste my youth, so to speak.  Grandma and Auntie lived at 216 S. Frisco, about three blocks West of downtown.  When we visited, the row of white duplexes were all empty and awaiting a total destruction so that a big air conditioning could be built there. She was aware that all duplexes had same floor plan, that they were long and narrow so that each room was one behind the other, she was aware of a Mrs Jones lived right next door and that her Grand daughter whom I named Carla was also visiting her Grandmother and that her bedroom was right across from mine,  She was aware that only about five feet was between our homes and that in that narrow walk space was a brick walk way.  She was aware that Carla and  I learned allot`from each other.  
Carla went back to her Rushville, Nebraska home, she was brutally murdered by a jealous boyfriend.  Yes, all of us are microcosms of all others who have ever lived...a kaleidoscope of love, hate, joy and sorrow, hope and disappointments.  Some live until the Sunset and others leave way too early....Some live to show the glory of Fall colors, others are called home in the zenith of their youth, ,,,,How to make an intelligent bottom line to all of this..I have not a clue...Just as well...(to be continued)

THE VERANDA 8/17/17

BY WAY OF REVIEW: These stories are drawn from two lives that came together by chance..like marbles rolling around life's roulette wheel and just happened to fall into slots right next to each other. Blythe Anne Fishback used to be named Blythe Anne Spanos....Gus was born in Greece and learned the art of preparing delicious Greecian dishes...better known as cooking. He moved to the United states when he was in his twenties and found himself in Sacramento, California, where he started his own restaurant business.  His restaurant took off and it grew to the point that Gus became a millionaire in five years.   He met his future wife there and Blythe Anne Spanos was the result.  Blythe's story must be paraphrased as it too lengthy for detail.  She had a very happy and trauma free childhood, and became The editor in Chief of the Sacramento Bee.  She was on a sabbatical and decided to learn the art of camping. As fate would have it, she found herself at Chilao campground in the San Gabriel Mountains above Los Angeles.   Another person was also in search ...not only for a camping spot, but a search for himself.  He was a retired Child Psychologist whose practice was in Glendale, Calif. He retired at 78 years of age, never met the right woman to share life with. and wondered what life was all about and what the point of it all was.....Blythe was normal, but never found the man that was worthy of what she had to give.  She wasn't snooty, she was just particular. I think she was looking for a man as wonderful as her Father. She idolized her Father, and it about killed her when he passed away.  She tried to hold onto him and memories of her childhood by never leaving her childhood home, It was way too big for her, a beautiful old Victorian home in well to do section of old Sacto.  The back yard was at least an acre, studded with old Oak Trees,winding pathways, and beautiful bushes of all kinds,  The Veranda on the back of the house over looked this garden of Eden.  So, back to the roulette and the game of chance.  Bob's first sight of Blythe showed a petite fuming lady trying to untangle her tent. He watched in amusement and then offered to help.  This set into play a scene that is described in a story down here somewhere named "Cat and Mouse in the Forest.....but, only if you are interested......(to be continued)

FIFTY YEARS LATER.....2017

Lots of changes..hair turned grey, joints stiff, some memory loss..a few years ago.  Started calling Blythe by her middle name which is Anne.....She seems to have forgotten her middle name as she asks   "Who is Anne" ?  Really strange thing here, I pushed a certain key and my eyesight improved, but the letters lean....Years ago, Anne sold her huge childhood home in Sacramento where she had lived all of her life. She never married, but was content in living where her beloved parents lived, worked, and gardened the very extensive back yard.  She also had found fulfillment in her job as an editorial writer for the Sacramento Bee. Both of us made good money and we are now enjoying our retirement on the outskirts of Prescott, Arizona.  We built a nice and somewhat large log cabin home on a large, Pine studded lot with a great view of the Bradshaw Mountains with its prominent view of Thumb Butte.  It's not that we don't like Prescotians, as they call themselves, it's just we prefer to look down on them rather than straight across.  They are friendly enough, but tend to not care for new comers. Prescott has a lion's share of street people and is a mecca for rehab centers which are simply houses that are inhabited by people in recovery.  Those houses are just about every where except for upper scale parts of town.  Funny thing is one of Prescott's big draws is Whisky Row which is about two blocks of downtown and is lined with old bars and saloons from the early day's of Prescott.  There is a huge percentage of tattoo'd women of all ages here.  Don't know why that is unless they vie for who is the most screwed up.  So, we built out of town where everyone is normal simply because no one lives near us.  Our floor plan is similar to Anne's floor plan in Sacto.....You may recall from previous stories that Anne (Blythe) had what one might call an inordinate affection for her parents...she actually loved them.  Her Sacto back yard was a virtual garden of Eden and her Father spent his retirement years working from dawn to dusk on it.  He also had his beloved 48 Pontiac Silver Streak 8, which he tinkered with often...polishing it every week.  Her Father made a fortune in the restaurant business as he had a four star Greek food restaurant. Anne got her cooking and drinking skills (!) from her Father....Our log home has a veranda where we still enjoy our wine and repeat stories over and over again, but at our age, it its a new world every day.....Well, I had to start somewhere, and so this begins a new chapter on old familiar chapters...Greetings to my readers in Russia, the UK, Poland, and wherever you are..hang around awhile ..LUV YOU ALL......"The B"

FROZEN IN STONE 3/20/14

The people on that train all had one thing in common...they were old and wished to go back one more time.  Their wish was granted.  There were only five people on the train, and I was one of them. The terrain out side whizzed by and the land looked desolate under a full Moon.  The trip would consist of five stops, and when it was your stop, your name was called.  One by one, they got out of the train and just disappeared into the blackness.  I was the last one to get off.  None of us knew what to expect, but, we were old and had not many days, so what did it matter? When it came my turn, I gazed at the conductor and he gave me a nod.  I stepped out onto the ground and saw nothing but Moonlight on a desert landscape.  I started back to get back on the train, but the door was locked and the train was pulling out. I saw a path in the dim Moon light and started walking.....Looking back, it was like I was unconscious for a time and just woke up in the Sunlight....I was standing in front of 3509 Rosemary...such a beautiful day, the Verdugo's jade green and so very clear.  In about five minutes, I realized there was no sound and nothing was moving except for branches in the wind...no cars...no people...Pretty strong stuff for those faint of heart, but I realized something here that was arranged, and I knew God was kind. As no instructions of any kind had been given to me, it became clear that things would reveal themselves when it was their time.   I walked up to our front door, and there was Mom and Dad,,,,standing still like statues.  I touched them, and even though they looked like live flesh and blood, they were cast in stone.  Dad was at the dinner table and Mom was coming through the door between Kitchen and dining room...just frozen in time....I went through every room and the items were not stone..only the people were.  I was not told how long I would be here nor would I get out alive.   I went into my bedroom and felt of my bed..not stone...what do I do now....what is all this about?  I should have asked this before, just like I should have asked allot of questions before.  There was electricity and the clocks were keeping time.  Curiosity replaced shock, and I wondered if other people were stone figures also....I broke into neighbor's house and found Laurie, Wendy, Louisa, and Lester...frozen in stone.  I opened their refridgerator and there was food...fresh and cold.  I drank some milk and gobbled down some meat loaf.  Felt better, but  why?.  I then wondered if cars would run.  I ran back to our house and the Hudson was in the garage...I went back inside and found the keys in my Mom's Purse.  I backed the Hudson out and went exploring the perimeters of "My World"..how far did it extend?   It extended as far as I wanted it to....everything the same, except all people were frozen in time.  I found dogs, cats, birds....all frozen in time.  I became very thankful that cars moved.  In a situation like that, I wondered what the point was in my desire to go back. I believe most people would love to have this experience.  That is because they never experienced it.  It is too  much for the human being to deal with...just too far away from real life and what it was.  To sum up, I went many places and studied many stone figures...just stopped when the director said "CUT"   ...The Sun was now behind the Verdugos,  the Pink light on the Verdugos was rising....the azure blue of night was drawing its curtain.....the stars were coming out....so very silent...so silent.  .One thing became very clear; the topography may be beautiful, the homes may be elegant, but life comes from living things. It takes the cry of a baby, the laughter of a child, the sounds of birds,  the neighbor with his Barber Shop Quartet practicing , to add the beauty and reason to our existance....For the first time, I wanted to go back to the future....Wasn't there a Movie named that ?  :)

MAYBE THE FALL KILLED HIM

Blythe and I awakened after, not only our first night, but our first time.  We faced the new day..knowing.  We didnt want to leave our own Garden of Eden just yet.  We needed to bathe, and I knew there was an icy cold stream down at the bottom of the canyon just below us.   We dressed and ate a hasty breakfast between giggles.  We were in our hiking clothes and made our way down the rather steep hill to the bottom. Yes, the stream was giggling too.  Aa the ice had been broken, we undressed, took the soap and wash cloths and waded into the stream.  We went to knee deep and then..took a deep breath and knelt down until water level at shoulder high.  It took our breath away, and when I stood up, Blythe started laughing at me.  My....uhh.  was so drawn up, I looked like a new born.  "Cold water does that to men" I explained.  We worked up a suds of sorts and washed every....nook and cranny.  The towelling off felt good, and soon we were in our clothes again and decided what to do next.  "Blythe, last night I noticed the full Moon resting on top of that tall tree up on the ridge....It looked so impressive...let's hike up to the top of that ridge and find that tree.  I pointed to where it was and we bagan a search of the best way to climb up there.  There seemed to be a gulley, of sorts that started at the bottom and went on up as we could tell.  The rocky ridges on sides soul serve as a stair case of sorts.  It was rather steep.  We made our way up quite a ways and stopped to rest.  Blythe noticed a little side canyon or large gulley off to one side, and we decided to explore up that to see what we could find.  We went only about a hundred feet and ,,,,we stopped,  There on the floor of this nook was the sleletal remains of a ..person.  It was stlll clothed in rotted clothing...we went up to it and just pondered what we should do.  I examined the remains and discovered a broken femur.  "He must have fallen from the top and broken his leg in the fall"  I said.  We went through is back pack and found several tools for hewing rock..no identification papers in bag or on body.  I drew a rough map of where we were, as we would report this to authorites.  We went back to the main channel to the top and continued climbing.  When we reached the summit, we began walking to the tall tree.  It was a magnificent view of surrounding area.  We looked way down on our camp site..the tent and the car.  After awhile, we found the tree.  A magnificent old Pine that had survived the howling winds and lightning strikes.  We sat down and just contemplated all that had happened so fast.  I happened to look to the Northeast and noticed the sillhouttes of the Pines on a distant ridge; the Pines were bending over and there was dust.  ""Sorry, Blythe, the Santa Ana is coming"  The wind struck our peak with grand announcement.  Our Pine also bent over.  The canteen that we had brought and had lain on the ground took off and landed somewhere down the side.  "Let's go back to our canyon  and take shelter"  The wind was so strong, even smaller rocks were rolling along the ground.  We made it to shelter and just cowered. 
We stayed put for several hours until it calmed down.  Grit was in our mouths and in our eyes.  When we got back to camp, put our tent back up which as blown down.  We stayed there another day.  Another Full Moon and another camp fire...the wind was gone.  We talked about the body and wondered how long it had been there.  We went back up to her site and removed all of her camping equip and stored it in her car.  It was amazing, in a way, a campground, and nobody was there.  The stars were out, but diminshed by the light of the Moon.  We looked up at the Tall tree, where we had been.  The Moon was getting pretty close to being right behind it....We had a good supper by firelight and decided to turn in early for unknown reasons.....:)

CAT AND MOUSE IN THE FOREST ....

Blythe said she wanted to go back up to her campsite to "get a few things".  The fire had dwindled to glowing embers, and I watched her via her bobbing flashlight.  It was about a quarter of a mile hike up and soon..the light was not visible. She was gone way too long, and so I took my light and went to see if she was alright.  When I got to her camp site, she was no where to be seen.  I felt a tinge of alarm..called out to her in a loud voice..no reply  I did not like all of this, we had just met a few hours ago, and although we really hit it off. still did not know what she was all about. .  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a quick glimmer of light down the hill, but it immediately went out. It must have been her, but what was she up to; did she have a gun, was she crazy....better to not reveal where I was by using my light, the full Moon gave enough to see my way around.  I began edging back down the hill toward my camp site.  I heard the snap of a branch near bye and I stopped, and just listened.  I could hear the sound of my own breathing.  Another snap of a twig but from a different direction.  I started walking back down and became dis-oriented....I came upon a very large boulder, about the size of a two car garage, but only about seven feet tall.  It was granite and gave off allot of Moonlight.  I drew up close to the boulder and slowly began to walk around it.  It was not round and had some corners.  I was just about to finish my walk around it and I heard another pop, and it seemed like it came from the other side of the boulder.  I was at a place where there were edges like steps up the side.  I thought about climbing on top in order to look down to the ground.  Another louder pop and it was just around the corner.  I was breathing hard now...didn't know what she was made of.  I crept around the corner and came face to face with Blythe.  We screamed...then..realzing it was just a game, we started laughing and just flew into each other's arms.  Didn't say a thing..just one embrace as we listened to each other breathe.  Finally, I said   "You scared me half to death, what were you thinking of?"   She said  "I got lost coming down to you and looked for your light.  I kept hearing the sounds of someone walking....we are only forty miles from and six thousand feet above fifteen million people of all kinds...just one thread between us and them."  I did not know what or who was out there in all this darkness.  I drew her close to me again, and we had our first spontaneous kiss . We both knew one thing, this was meant to be. We headed back to my camp where the embers were still glowing and the wine was waiting. We found that night that we both thought alike, it was uncanny,  both of us were wondering what the night held for us. Both of us knew what we wanted, both of us were steeped in parent taught values, neither of us want her to go back to her camp site...both of thought about the large camping tent with two sleeping bags rolled out...the pressure grew until she blurted out..."Bob, I have never done it before"  I blurted out "Neither have I..we must be two of the wonders of the World"   I got a stick and poked the embers...little sparks ascended and a feeble flame or two.  We had more wine and  we sat on a log and just stared into the fire.  A song came to her and she began to sing  "What;s it all about, Alfie, is it just for the moment we live?"  Someone needed to make the first move; both too insecure, finally, she stood and said:  "Bob, I want you to see me"  Her hands went to the bottom of her sweater and she pulled it up and up over her shoulder, over her long golden hair, and there it just swung from one outstretched arm..no bra.  Her hands went to the waist band of her Jeans and she slowly pulled them down...more and more of her lithe legs came into view until her Jeans were hanging from one outstretched hand.  She just let them drop to the ground.  She then began a slow dance around the fire,  her slender arms weaving ,  such long and beautiful legs..they looked like they would never end....I told her I was going to go inside of the tent and get ready for bed.  I took all clothing off and crawled into my sleeping bag.  Soon, a naked Blythe came in and knelt beside me. She bent over me and kissed me with many kisses..warm and moist.  For some reason, I can't remember what else we did that night. All I know is we are now married and still enoy talking on the veranda in Sacramento, Caliornia....I you want to know the details, you need to wade through the many disjointed stories below.....

MY FIRST REAL KISS (1950'S) .

Now, the last few stories are 100 % true, and I have departed from me and Blythe for awhile and turn to sporadic stories from the past.  This might also be called American youth in the 50's or it might be called a very cool house party I happened into.  America was on the cusp of its prosperity.  A new sound had come on scene called rock an roll.  A new batch of rebellious movies had come out like Rebel Without a Cause or Blackboard Jungle.  A new look, a new attitude, a new breed of cars called Hot Rods..often sporting 200 hp engines.  Cute girls became chicks and seemed to be attracted to either the black leather bad boys or the jocks with many blazers sporting gold medals.  That left guys like me in a outsider position...shy, insecure, and longing for a chick of my own.  Had never kissed a girl...yet..and I was sixteen.  Allot of us were insecure, and bolstered our bravery with a  six pack of beer.  So, there we were in Rod's 40 Ford just cruising.  Word was out on a house party up on Mountain Avenue.  We cruised Mountain and we found it by all the hot rods parked and music coming from the house.  Invitations not necessery.  We didn't even knock..just went in !  There must have been thirty kids there..all of them so cool or so cute.  Some dancing, some making out in the corner.  It didnt matter, we were welcome by the hostess..not a Mother, a chick whose parents were on a week end trip.  Those were the best parties. Some drinking, but no drunks.  I found a place to hide and watch others and their chicks...just longing to be like they were.  My beer really helped....out of no where, this cutie came over and just sat on my lap.  I was terror stricken.  Trying to be funny, I put my arms around her and said "I am a flesh eating plant"   It was then that my world turned into a soft haze.  She pulled me up and danced with me..smiling all the time.  She said I was too bashful and shoudn't be.  It was a slow dance and it seemed so natural to me..all fears fled...soft hair, perfume, .(I remember, that night in May..the stars above were shining bright..)  when the song ended she said I was a good dancer and she gave to me a soft and lasting kiss....the only thing I remember after that was waking up in my bed on Saturday morning...no noise...parents still asleep.  Sun peeking in...I looked at my clothes from  the night before just tossed on the floor...was it a dream?   What was her name?   I remembered writing something down and putting the paper in my wallet.  I ran and got my wallet and feverishly looked for a paper...what was her name ?   I found a paper and all it had on it was "Kerr on Klump"  Klump was a street in the San Fernando Valley....I rushed to the phone book and looked..many Kerrs; none on Klump....Obsession is a disease..for weeks...going here and there..."Do you know a Dorothy Kerr on Klump?  No one did.  The only proof it happened were some strands of her hair on my dark sweater...which I saved in an envelope....I suffered for weeks.
Now, my wife and I are old and we nap allot.  We often talk about our lives when we were young.    I will never forget Dorothy Kerr....but, that is all it is,  a memory...Like Jimmy Durante used to close his program..."Good night, Miss Calabash, wherever you are."     Allot to say goodbye to...our youth, the way we were....the way America was......It was a very good ride...back then... 

 

HOW I INDIRECTLY CAUSED THE DEATHS OF FIVE PEPLE

Christmas Day, 1955, Los Angleles County, California...I am 16 yrs old.  It was unusually warm that day..strong desert winds.  Dad and I decided to drive up into the Mountains and take a short hike..I believe it was a Sunday.  The Angeles Crest is a dangerous, curvy road. steep bluffs on one side, steep drop off on the other.  We had gone up quite a ways and came upon some rocks on the road...loostened by the wind and fallen.  Dad wanted to stop and pitch them over the side, I discouraged him and said we could do that on the way down.  I wanted to hike.  He listened to me and we had a nice hike...sound of the Pines roaring in the wind.  On the way down, we came to the place where the rocks were on the road and a number of cars pulled off and people gazing down.  We also stopped and saw a Buick at the bottom of the canyon. Christmas presents strewn down the hill side...one body ejected, the rest in car.  Five elderly people killed on their way to spend Christmas Day with family.
The next day, I drove my own car back to the spot, and one of the family members was just looking down.  "They hit a rock and blew a tire he said."
I have carried that weight for all these years..not a huge weight..just a weight that I do not talk about...much.

THE LESS, THE MERRIER !

This is in distinction to the "More, the merrier"   MORE has been America's theme for decades.  More horsepower, bigger homes, more selections, etc.So this little ditty about Mr. More....see him now, racing along. briefcase in hand,  seeking that pot of gold, in grander land...He ignores the things just flashing bye;  family. friends, and just what he has;  He comes to his end, and just sits down....In my life long journey,  I just passed....the only things that really last.

THE WORLD OF THE LITTLE THINGS

This is paranthetical to the flow, if there be any flow !  When I was young, I began to take note of all the things around us that we seem to ignore. Yet, this world is the backround music to our busy dance.  The night pulls its curtain of darkness over us...the street lamps come on.  The night blooming jasmine awakens..it is their time to come on stage.  The Morning Glories close and await their turn.  The lonely snail is tired from its day of just ambling around and crawls under its favorite rock.  The teen ager closes his school books...homework finished.  Father and Mother yawn...the cat slinks under a bush and looks around...he loves the night.  The trees are still wet from the rain, and every little breeze shakes the leaves and causes a shower of drops to fall.  The wind chime tinkles for a moment.  The long night when our world is mostly asleep.  So much going on that we never know about.  The sick child awakens from his feverish sleep and sees the cherry red glow of the wall heater...a sort of delerium that brings with it an amplified feeling of peace and safety.  Pulling the covers up over a shivery body...it feels so very safe from all that is out there in a very strange sort of way.  The unseen World....so far apart from all that we think is important.   The East is tinged with the first hints of dawn.  The brushing of the teeth, the combing of the hair, getting dressed for our day as the rising Sun bathes the tops of the hills in orange light. Ever moving down, the light spills into the valley...the new day is underway.  The jasmine goes to sleep, the morning glory opens with a shout.  The snail comes out from under its rock and enjoys the dewy lawn.  A symphony of sorts.  The Robin finds a juicy worm while we find our way to whatever the day holds.  This unseen world pays about as much attention to us as we do to it.  But, it is there for those who want to enjoy it. 

THE SITUATION ROOM

The veranda at our home was more than a place to relax, it had become our situation room.  Tonight, we are taking stock of our lives and trying to establish a crucial item that was missing:  our direction.  We had none.  We have been moved by whim, going here and there and enjoying every one of our adventures.  Our lives have been a series of unrelated compartments.  I began to ramble:  "We are blessed with money, a lovely home, each other, but where do we want to go? "   Blythe said: "I'm not sure we need to go anywhere as far as a pre-planned direction.....both of have said we spend too much time in the past, but the past so beats the present state of affairs....we watch the news and it is a story of collective night mares,  we go shopping and it is an experience of being in about ten countries at the same time..everybody in too much of a hurry to give a smile or say hello...we can't escape the reality of the World as it now is....I love our home....our town has changed, though...........I can't think of anything other than what we have been doing..just going by whim....not every body has that priviledge."
Blythe made allot of sense; I could not deny that.  "Blythe, one of the most challenging things we ever did together was when we took the case in investigating the activities of that woman. Do you ever think you would like to find another case to figure out?"  "Not at present, dear....its not relaxing....too much spying...don't dig it too much......I'll tell you what interests me...exploring in the wilds.....using maps amd compass..back packing everything we need to survive..that is what interests me...right now.....there is something that is akin to spying I like.....getting a powerful telescope and watching things from a distance."     "Like people?"  I asked.  "Yes, that would do" she replied. I thought a minute and asked how she would like camping near the Mexican border and watching for drug traffickers.  Her only reply was,,"HUMMM"    So, the next day, we went shopping for all sorts of camping and survival gear....including a high powered rifle with a scope.  ....we had direction   (to be continiued)  Rememember stories go from bottom to top.....(Direction!!!!) 

EXPLANATION TO THE HODGE PODGE BELOW

This began as a flowing story of my life.  I did not like some of the chapters, so I deleted them.  Thus, all stories seem unrelated.  Much truth in stories and some science fiction as it envolves an extra-terrestrial being who contacted me as an older man and asked me if I would like to go back to 1952 and mentor myself as a 12 year old so I would not turn out to be the alcholic and aimless person that I was.  I jumped at the chance.  So, The stories include my living across the street from myself and becoming friends with myself and my parents.  I changed my name to Bob Key.  I was sucessful in mentoring little Bob and he bcame successful as a Doctor and also very well off.  This older Bob never married and met a woman on a camping trip and she was also single.  A beautiful woman and very impish.  She was the only child of a very successful restaurant owner and they were wealthy in their own right. Her name was Blythe.  They married and lived in Blythe's childhood home in Sacramento.  Both became disinterested in their trades and just wandered aimlessly around.  Blythe was a writer for the Sacramento Bee Paper.  They spent much time just talking on their Veranda while sipping wine.  She became fascinated with Bob's Childhood and especially his time during the Summer of 1953 when he stayed with his Grandmother and Aunt Mildred.  So, it skips around alot. Hope it does not make you dizzy. If you like puzzles, putting all these together time wise will make it much more clear.

THE BOTTLED UP CRY

I believe that many of us have a bottled up cry, a supressed weeping rooted in the soils of those we have known, loved, and miss terribly.  This goes for times too, that little boy, that little girl...walking, waking, wanting, seeing, hearing.  The parade of the elderly loved ones..growing weary, growing weaker, going away.  Where are all these people ?  People and times can't just disappear, can they ?  Yes, they can, and that is why we are jars in a pantry.  Some labeled today, last week, last year,  long ago. Life needs the bass as well as the tenor.  The flats and the sharps....plainly put, its all a melody.  Right now, just singing a sad song....,

GRANDMA AND GRANDPA 1952

I know from the perspective of old age, that youth amplifies things we feel.  I was 12 and we were on our annual trip back to Oklahoma.  McAlester. Oklahoma, my Mother grew up there along with her two sisters and brother.  Grandpa was a dairy farmer back then, but he was much too old to continue on with that.  However, his old barn was still standing, but barely. It leaned allot and creaked when the wind was up. We split our two week vacation between Mom's Parents and Dad's Mother and sister who lived in Tulsa.  Fred and Jenny Swanson were a fascinating study in old age for just a boy. The old barn was also pregnant with hidden stories that it only shared once in while.  After nearly thirty years of being tossed aside as no longer in service, it lived out its last days just squeeking and moaning in the wind.  I could still smell the hay and manure..but, very faintly.  The doors sagged on their hinges and opened and closed just a little with the Summer breeze.  Particles of dust would come on stage and s;parkle for just a moment when they passed through a ray of Sun shining through a crack in the boards. From my little room on the back, it looked like a great ship just passing through in the full moon. 
Granma was a great cook, as all Grandma's are.  Sundays were always sleepy days. for some reason. After fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, string beans, and apple pie..we became very sleepy.  No air conditioning back then, but the old Emerson fan helped. It was adjusted to move back and forth and sweep everyone for just a  moment.  I watched as Grandpa feel asleep, the newspaper slowly folded into his lap and then his chin went to rest on his chest.  We all slept for abit until a foreboding...the sky was getting very dark and distant thunder.  I loved storms as Glendale had no REAL storms.  The transition was in a moment..the distant roar, getting closer and closer until it hit the house like running into a wall. Doors slammed shut, trash can lids flying, trees bending over.  The blinding flashes with immediate bangs that rattled your teeth.  Then curtains of rain...But OH, it was so cool, almost icy.   They didn't last very long.  Moved on and only reminded us of them by distant flashes,as other towns got the treat that we had....Grandma always tucked me in.....and when she left, she left in her wake that wonderful smell of cold cream.  God, I love Grandmas....Years later, Mom got a feeble note from Grandma....the old barn had fallen down and they hauled it away...

They all are long gone now....but, Istill remember them....

THE CAVE OF SECRET THINGS

This might be called "HOW TO CRAWL INTO YOUR OWN BRAIN"    Not drugs, a certain combination to the lock, your lock,  our secrets which we have long forgotten, are kept safe in your vault of memories.  It's really too bad, because they all belong to you, but you can't get to them...now.   Memories are so discounted as of little value, until you discover some secrets.  The secret of re-winding the film and playing it again.  The secret of finding little side roads that give options.  We just breezed on bye, never looking at or thinking about.  The ability to detatch the spirit from the present and go on a trek..seeing things so strange.   The trip inside the brain is akin to walking into Carlsbad  Caverns.... A cave of tissue holding its own computer chips defying a hack job.  Secrets of who we really are and who we have been,  the Rosetta Stone. 

OLD MOTELS AND ONLY TWELVE YRS OLD !

There was a magic combination that will never occur again.  Being twelve in the early 1950's.   I was awakening to puberty, and instead of easing into it, I plunged head first.  I simply fell in "love" with every cute girl I saw. I was also in love with a type of mysticism that centered around the obscure, the lonely, the haunting, the silent whispers from the trees...the scratching of a branch on my window, the drumming of the rain.  We made a pilgrimedge  to Oklahome every Summer.  The old Mother Road...US 66.

I loved the open road, mainly because I did not have to deal for very long with the current situation..it just passed by in a blur and new wonders were fast approaching.  I wonder what it would be like to be some one else.  Living in distant lands, different cultures, different values.  I wonder if they felt and do feel what I felt and feel in similiar situations.  I rather think so.

We stopped at a Mom and Pop Motel in 1949.  It would never fly today,but it was the best in many ways.  It was REAL LIFE.  Not a super satiated attempt to make every thing high tech and impersonal.  I loved going into our new rooms on our trips.  The first thing was to bounce up and down on the bed.....then examine the old water cooler with it waft of cool, musty air.  The crunching of gravel under the tires of late arrivers, the slam of the trunk lid.  The circular drive around a grassy area with chairs and a few tables.  Magazines for our reading pleasure.   The flashes of "heat lightning" over the horizon.   On that night, I went out to explore the area, and sat down in an old lawn chair.  I picked up a 1949 Life Magazine and I saw a girl...a picture of a girl ,,looking at me through her deep blue eyes......There was a strange word under her picture...EPILIPSY.     I fell in love with a living being held captive by ink and page.   Such a a strange and haunting land....Mesas, dinasaur bones, the tourist attraction of the Meteor Crater near Holbrook.  Cloudbursts,  black clouds and lightning...rainbows....day over...carpet of stars.   and the girl looking at me.  I think this sort of thing happened in every state of the Union as well as Russia, China, and the U.K.   Perhaps, some of us just don't want to talk about it.....Whatever.......

SEND IN THE CLOWNS

We got on the road to home about nine in the morning.  By the mile we felt better...going home...HOME...be it ever so humble, there is no place like home.  I told Blythe I still preferred driving to flying...."You get alot of perspectives when you drive...things move slower...a real sense of past, present, and future....."See that grain silo?....that is the bank account of some farmer's work...that is his savings...it is safer in that silo than in some bank....look how small it looks in the distance....look how it grows as we get closer...see it in its fullness as we pass it...how big it really is..look at it now...shrinking like a burning candle...now, it is gone....Silence is golden...as far as voices are concerned....voices....those who have arisen in public view and whose mouths are always voicing....The wind...blowing off of soy bean fields, dairy farms, hay fields...sweet, so very sweet,  the sound of silence, the sound of blood, sweat, and tears....the hard worker bending over his desk under lamp light, trying to figure how to beat the odds..his pencil moves by gnarled hand...he comes to the bottom line that his family can make it with decent rain and good prices....he goes to bed and falls asleep...the sleep of the laboring man is sweet...Honesty, hard work, resourcefulness are winning the game.....This will never work....Send in the Clowns......

WHAT THE NEIGHBORS SAID RE 839

I suggested to Blythe (B)  that as we were not on a spy mission and that we had broken no laws, that we forget any imaginations as to harm.  B suggested we park our truck in the driveway of 839 when we went to visit next door..rattle some cages, maybe.  Why not now?  Why not.   We drove back to the house for sale and parked in 839 drive.  Then we walked to house next door and knocked on the door.  An older woman answered and she heard our reason for knocking:  "We were interested in the house next door and wondered if she knew anything about the people who lived there and about how long the house had been on the market."   She was very nice and invited us in.  We introduced our selves and she said that she had been friends with the woman who lived there alone..."She was in her forties and single..very attractive...I assume she was single...no ring and she never spoke of a husband. There was a man who either lived there with her or else spent alot of time there....I don't know what the relationship was.....I didn't have good feelings about him...he never spoke to me..never smiled..A truck came by about once a week and unloaded a bunch of boxes into the garage.  One night, I was up late and I saw another truck back into her driveway all the way back to the garage and the boxes were loaded onto the truck and it drove away.  I had her over for a luncheon several times and she never once invited me over. One day, about a month ago, a moving van backed in and all of her belongings were loaded and then it drove off.  I never saw her again after that event.  Two days later, a man placed the for sale sign in her yard.  You are the first people I have seen who were interested in the house.  She never mentioned her last name...she just said her name was Blanche."   Blythe looked at me and winked as if to say   "I told you so".  We thanked the lady...(she never gave her name)..and went back to our truck.  I suggested we try my back door again to see if it was still un-locked......It wasn't.   As we had decided to bring all of our camping gear with us, we both hit upon the idea of going back up the Crest highway to our first meeting camp ground and roast weenies and spend the night there....."How romantic," B. said.   "Let's buy wine and ice and alot of groceries....we may never come down again"    A wonderful romance about to be re-kindled...lot's of fun too.   (to be continued)

VISIT WITH NEIGHBORS TO 839

Blythe walked around and drove our truck to where I was standing.  I suggested we drive over to Pelanconi Park where I played as a child.  There was a baseball field with bleachers on the North end and a playground on the South end.  We parked and strolled around the park...talking.  "Blythe, I don't know about you but I feel so lost in life.  I remember back to when you worked and when you came home, we had our wine and talking session on your veranda."   On a whim, I opened my own clinic and shut it down a short time later.  You went to school and got your Private Investigator License and we worked together on one case.  Then we got tired of that.  It is almost a curse that both of us have alot of money..we don't have to work and so here we are poking around in the past...trying to find something.  I take the blame for scrwing up your life...you were happy before we met, and now I have lured you into an open sea and we have no compass."    Her response was:  "Bob, I was not complete before we met.  I was empty.  Nothing is your fault because there is no fault....we are just mariners trying to find our Island.  This is interesting to me...you are interesting...you seem to draw unusual things our way....like the man who entered your old home...no big deal..but you made an interesting deal out of it....when we investigated that wacko lady, that was real interesting...nothing boring about you at all..my investigation license is still valid in California...let's see if you can create another thriller for us.....let's approach the neighbors to 839 and see if they have any info to offer in the course of investigation about the house for sale...."   I replied :  "Nothing else to do...I have a few other places in town I want to take you, but your idea fascinates me....I may have told you this, but Bob Key was an onery and fun guy for being so old...his hobby  was freiking people out.....one time he got in contact with a real estate lady and told her he wanted a house in a neighborhood near my emementery school.  She showed him a really nice and large house and he began acting real strange....when they went into one of the bathrooms, he got down on his knees and sniffed the bowl of the toilet....he asked her if it could handle large objects....she tried to maintain her composure and asked how many members to his family...he told her he was single, but there would be at least four ladies and the madame.  She drove him back to her office and made him sit in the back seat, where he sang to her.  She parked her car and ran into her office leaving him sitting in the back seat and just shaking with laughter."    Blythe said, "Sounds like fun, let's be a team and do things like that too."   It was at that time I wondered again how I passed the state test to practice Psychology.  This is because Blythe's idea appealed to me...both of us like to laugh....sooo...we put our heads together and began to map out our first gag.....But, first, we needed to talk to the neighbors and try to find out who the man was that showed up.....(to be continued)

TOURING GLENDALE WITH BLYTHE

Both of us had a hard time getting to sleep last night.  Just about the time I thought she was asleep, she would say something; same with her.  I told her that I thought the Motel lady was fantisizing about the ghosts.  "I'll bet she has little loud speakers planted in trees and all over so she can make strange sounds come over them.  ....I think it might be a way for her to establish a rumor which would cause the thrill seekers to come here."  I said.  At any rate, we finally got to sleep and slept well.   After we got dressed and had breakfast, we set out in a tour.  I wanted to start at the beginning so I took her to 839 Norton.  I knocked at the door and no one answered.   The house was all original and that was unusual as most of the houses had add ons and looked little like they used to look..but 839 was original.  To my great surprise, there was a for sale sign in the front yard.  I wrote down the name of the Realtor and we walked around to the back....thinking someone inside would see us and think we were interested in buying.  The back yard was virtually the same other than a different tree was growing where the Chinese Elm used to be.  "This is incredible...most people have put pools in their back yards....this is just like it was except for the beautiful flowers and bushes around the border of the grass."   I walked up on the open back porch and peered inside...there were no curtains and the house was empty of furnishings.  The back door to the dining room was locked, but when I tried my door to my bedroom, it opened.  I told  Blythe that this was such good luck that I smelled a fish somewhere.  She said "Maybe if you step inside, you will be ten years old"  I actually was a little ancey about doing just that, but, we did.  It looked slightly smaller than I rememered.  I opened the closest door and the old shoe rack was still there.   It was a metal rectanguler box recessed into the wall with rods spanning side to side to put your shoes in.   We went down the hall and I said "When I was little, I used to ask Mom to leave the hall light on as the dark scared me when I went to bed."    I had a story to every room including the living room when I ran naked from the bath tub to the living room to talk to my dad and the neighbor girl was visiting and I didn't know it.  She erupted in laughter and I ran yelling back to the bath.  We were back in the living room and we saw a car pull up and park right behind my four wheeler.  A rather tall and slender man dressed in a blue suit got out and looked inside our truck He then looked right at the house we were in,  he then walked down the driveway and we saw him pass by the kitchen window.  He was headed for the back and we felt a little fear and wondering if he would come in.  "Maybe he is the realtor"  Blythe said.  We rushed to the front door and tried to open it, but the realtor's lock was on the outside and the door would not open.  We heard his key in the main back door and with no other choices, we ducked into the clothes closet and pulled it shut. "Why are we hiding...we have done nothing wrong...it is reasonable to explain we were intersted in the house...we did not break in..." Blythe said.  I countered  "He showed a little too much interest in our truck...he looked at the inside...then, he looked at this house wondering if we are here....It's very common for cars to park on the street...why was he so curious..maybe concerned"  We could hear his footsteps on the now bare wooden floors..he went into every room..we could hear doors opening and closing....Then he left and locked the back door.  We tip toed out and looked through the front window which still had the venitian blinds lowered.  He went to his vehicle, got in, and drove off.   "Let's get out of here'  Blythe said.  "Let's wait a little while, when we leave, let's go through the back gate on the fence that is between this and the house in back.  Then, one of us will walk to the truck from the street in back and pick the other one up."   Blythe looked at me and asked "Are we being silly?"   "Maybe, but recall you were a P.I. once and you know how questionable people act...I tell you, his lingering around our truck was way glaring.....(to be continued)

GLENDALE WITH BLYTHE....STORIES

1982,,,Glendale, California.....The radical change of Glendale was already in progress.  The phone book was already four times thicker than it was ago.  A large number of immigrants from Armenia had moved there and brought their money with them.  The first hints of big business were manifest in an ever growing number of tall office buildings downtown.  The Pacific Electric Rail Cars were gone.  Even the beautiful Verdugo Hills were being raped by terraced lots and big homes....climbing higher up the hills every day.  I told Blythe that I wanted her to select the place where we would stay a few days.  I always felt better having a place nailed down.  We found the old Glendale Hotel was still in business....We looked at a few rooms and decided they were way passed their hay day and we passed on that one.  I then remembered the May Lane Motel up on the corner of Foothill and La Crescenta.  It was a landmark of sorts and even a few movies had been filmed there.  We drove up and it was still there.  We parked next to the office and no one was in sight.  No cars in the parking places.  A yard sprinkler was on and throwing water over the very green grass.  There were little pin wheels stuck in the ground and they twirled when a breeze came their way.  There was a profusion of flowers everywhere.....Yellow flowered Hibiscus, Camelias....It reminded me of some one's hobby..just own a Motel and flavor it to the owner's delight. We decided to sit in a lawn swing and just enjoy relaxing....We were facing  South towards Glendale and Los Angeles....it was downhill all the way...sloping down from the base of the San Gabriel Mountains to where it leveled off quite abit around Glendale College.  There was a draw between where the Verdugo Hills met the ground and the smaller San Raphael Hills which ran North to South.  A cool Sea breeze  was blowing up the draw and we could see the gray Pacific fog way down there..moving in for the evening blanket over us.  A sudden breeze sent the windmills into a happy moment of fluttering their little "wings".....A waft of the Roses planted along the front of the lawn....A humming bird stopped in mid air right in front of us and his wings gave us a little buzzing concert..and then he was gone.   Blythe said:  "This place is pure magic..I sure hope the rooms are decent"   Then, the land lady sent us a hello from the office.  We waved and walked to her.  She showed us a room in back and it was, in its way, what the grounds were in their way.   Old, but maintained,  sinks and plumbing probably original, but they worked and were shiny from cleaning.  There were the most beautiful pictures on the walls.....many faces, and still lifes.....We said we would take it and would be staying for maybe five days.  We went to the office and I signed the paper work and paid her.  She told us something about May Lane.  Her Father built it in 1940 and it had remained in the family all this time.  She said she was not aggresive in renting out as she kept it more to keep a memory alive than to make it pay for itself.  She also told us that there were visitors who sometimes strolled across the lawn at night and faded away.  "There is a rumor that the place is haunted and the frightening stories have been around for forty years and the curiosity renters often leave in the middle of the night.  I guess it was too convincing for them"   Neither Blythe nor I was particularly afraid of ghosts simply because neither of us believed in them, so we took it with a grain of salt.  The lady said that "No one has ever been harmed here and these apparitions are very friendly....just wanting to visit places in their memories like many of us do.   They do not intrude into the living spaces, but several reports on them peeking in the windows late at night.....don't worry, there are nice curtains on the windows."   Blythe and I looked at each other and said....."This is our bag"    (to be continued)  

NERVOUS, BUT CURIOUS 1944-1948

I was not a sickly child, but I was sick quite abit during our first three years there.  In my short life, I had experienced nausea and vomiting and I became deathly afraid of that sickness.  So leary of it, that I could imagine an onset of nausea very easily.  I was also plagued with intense longing for my Mother and the safety at home when I was in the first and second grades. For reasons unknown, I developed a fear of not being perfect in the work books and tests.  I remember looking out of the class room windows and longing for my Mother.  I am not sure about this, but I suspect this was laying the ground work for my rebellion that came upon me in Junior High School...I transformed myself into a sulky little punk who made sure it was clear to all concerned that I didn't give a damn about passing their tests nor conforming to their rules.  But, I knew when I had pushed the envelope far enough, and could become a sweet little "ass kisser"  when things got hot.  Case in point:  1953,  Mr. Charles E. Cannon, Principal of Clark Jr. High, called me into his office and he had feed back from my teachers on how rebellious I was.  I could read between the lines, and he was ready to expel me.  I changed my tune and told him how sorry I was if I had offended him. He said "Now, you are talking turkey."   I had never heard that phrase before, but I assumed talking turkey was kissing ass when the ass needed kissing.  He did not expell me.!   But, I need to go back to 1948 or so.  When the war was over, there was a sudden explosion of toys ...metal toys on the market..such as bicycles!  The bicycle became my escape mechanism at speeds I never attained on my scooter or tricycle.  It took a few spills to find out what it would do and things it did not like doing.  I  learned how to "brodie"  which was riding fast and then slamming on the brake while making a sharp turn.  The skid mark was the report card on how good of a brodie it was...the wider, the better. I learned all of the no-no's like your foot slipping off the pedal and crashing down on that bar that ran from seat to steering column.  Not good for the balls..and it made me wonder why girl's bikes did not have that bar...they don't have balls.  The house my parents bought had a nice feature....there was a door in my bedroom that led to the back porch.  It took three years for it to dawn on me.....I could escape into the night through that door without disturbing my sleeping parents !   That coupled with my bicycle parked just outside, opened the doors of opportunity....I had a tremendous crush on twin girls in my class...they were so cute...to love one was to love them both.  Arleene and Adrienne.........they were so mysterious to me.....somewhat quiet, but glancing around and making mental notes.....I loved them both and I knew where they lived via the phone book.  A ride from my house to theirs was about two miles..uphill.   I did that quite a few times...way late...when the street lamps were haloed in fog and all was quiet.   Many times, I parked my bike across the street from their house and just longed....windows all dark...all asleep, and they never knew that I loved them so....Then, the ride back to my bed....so magic....I found a secret friend just standing in the window on the second floor of an apartment Bldg that faced Glenoaks.  The little Green Man made of glass...Mr Wizard Wick.  His job was to just stand there and emit pleasant aromas in the entry hall to the upstairs units.  I visited with him and told him I liked him alot and I knew how he felt.  This is exactly why I think childhood is the apex of human experience....a child's imaginery World that is so normal for a child..but not an adult......Why so?  Who laid down that rule?  What a raping of the mind through the sterilizing of lovely experiences.....I got home ok. slept well, and Mom and Dad never knew....They would not understand..anyway.....(to be continued)

MOVING TO CALIFORNIA 1944

Blythe was either being polite or she was really fascinated by my life stories..  We had gone to my three places of my best memories and I asked her if she would like to start back home to Sacramento.  She had another idea  "Let's go to Glendale ....I've never been there"   I said it sounded good to me.  We went back to the Mayo Hotel and packed and left out the next morning.  I said "We will take 66 to Albuquerque and then head South ....we will go through your namesake, Blythe, California on the border of Arizona and California.  I want to take your picture standing next to the "Welcome to Blythe"  sign. As she was a good driver, I let her drive some to give me a rest.  I asked her if I talked too much and she said  no, "It's the only way I can learn about your life, and it is anything but boring."   That was good to hear as I seemed to have something to say about every mile, every turn in the road.  We were on the Turner Turnpike which ran from Tulsa to OKC.  So, with her encouragement to blab, I started in:  After my Father left Mead Bros., he was hired by Amerada Petroleum Corp. as an accountant.  After a few years in Tulsa, he was offered a position at the Los Angeles Office, which he took.  Homer Mead of Mead Bros., had retired and lived in a nice home in Beverly Hills and offered to let us stay withy him until we found a home .  Someone mentioned Glendale as being a nice, safe town and my parents shopped around.  They finally found a house on Norton Ave.  Two bedroom and one bath..nice enough.  Good neighborhood but, there were alot of kids of all ages. Glendale was all white and people of color were tolerated, but not welcomed there. This was in 1944.  It was noised around that people of color had better be out of town by Sunset.  Our block, the 800 and 900 block, was between two major roads.  Glenoaks on the North which was two lane each way with two street car tracks down the middle.  San Fernando Rd. was to the South and it was a very heavily travelled road with lots of trucks.  To the South of San Fernando Rd., were the Southern Pacific Railroad tracks, and to the South of those was Grand Central Air Terminal which had been converted to all  military use.  Fighter planes and Bombers were flown there for re-conditioning, therefore, the sky was filled with very interesting aircraft for a kid to look at.  During the last year of the war, aircraft engines could be heard running on test blocks day and night.  It was not loud, but you could hear them when outside.  That airport became one of my favorite haunts after I grew a little older and knew my way around.  It was rather easy for an adult to move to a vastly different environment, but not so easy for a five year old.  I was moved from a quiet and familiar world of soft voices and friendly people and my little friends, to a world of strangers who did not look friendly to me.  One of the few memories I have is that when the moving van pulled up  in front of our new home, there was line of kids standing there to see what we had...it seemed.  During the first few weeks there, I longed to establish at least a couple of kids my age that I could trust.  There was a Murphy family across the street and  the youngest was Jackie.  We hit it off pretty quick.  He had two older brothers...Tommy and Charles.  One day I was with J. and T. came onto the scene and made J. mad.  J called him a "Son of a Bitch".....I had never heard that before and thought it was a compliment and I said.."He really is a Son of  Bitch"    The family to the North of the Murphys was the Morrow family.   Even back then as a five year old, I could tell that Billy Morrow was different.  He like to hide behind a bush in his front yard, and when I came out on my bicycle, he would "launch an attack" .  He came running out making some really strange war hoops and chase me.  He often times wrestled me to the ground, and one day, I came home crying and my Mom asked why.  I said that I had just beat Billy up and it broke my heart.  I can't remember that, but my Mom told me that much later in life.  There were constant war fares between different factions of kids on the block, so, one day Jimmy H. might be an enemy, and the next he would be on our side.   That time of my life was a rapid moulding of my perceptions of life.....I developed my own secret world, learned to steal, learned all the secret places to find the next frightening things......and just go on...much more to tell....(to be continued)

MOVING ON TO OTHER PLACES TULSA, OK

After our most ....haunting...trip to 216, I told Blythe I wanted to show her my first home and it was far so we would have to drive.  We walked to the Mayo parking Garage and headed out for 58th St just off of Peoria.  In 1985, when we were there, the town had expanded way far south of 58th,   but back in early 40's, it was way out in the country.  Farm fields, orchards, with a house here and there, but not many.  Our red brick house on its acre of land was still there and pretty well kept up.  No one was home, and so we walked around to the back yard.  The old tree just outside my bedroom window was still there..huge and gnarled and it looked like it was tired of living....My bedroom was actually a wooden extension built off the back of the original house. I told Blythe that this place probably had more to do with laying the ground work of my infatuation with secret places and vibes from nature than any other place in my life.  "Everything was mysterious, inviting, yet was scary.  When my Mother hung the sheets  out to dry in the wind, their blowing scared me alot.  I was terribly afraid of lightning storms at night and ran my Mother through a question time before going to bed  "Is it going to lightning or boom boom?."   She always said no and sometimes, she lied.  She read extensively from Childcraft books, and there were a number of Children's Poems I can still remember.  Her lying beside me at nap time and her soft voice, and my entering into dream land set me up for missing her so when we moved to California and I started school.  In the very early grades, I cried for her on occasions.  I developed an appreciation for music in my first home.  My parents had a cabinet radio with a pull out record player.  They also had some classical pieces and Scherazade really reached deep into  me....I would dance around in my diaper to the music and one day, it fell off, and my Aunt Mimi laughed...It made me mad, so I went over and slapped her.  My first awareness of becoming aware of and interested in ..my little thing down there..is vivid in my memory.  I was in the old cobwebby garage and I needed to pee.  I saw an old dusty pop bottle on the dirt floor and I got it and pushed my thing into the opening and peed.  I made a good seal with the bottle because as the urine rose, it pushed air out..or tried to..and when pressure built up, it suddenly erupted in a whoosh and sprayed me with what I had so generously put in the bottle.  That totaly fascinated me.....WHY?     Car grills had a great impact on me...some of them smiled and some looked in pain.  When my folks had company, I can still remember the cars turning into the drive with that huge mouth waiting to eat me up.  Lot's of things like waking up with an eyelash in my eye and screaming for Mommy....getting soap in my eyes....first feeling of possessiveness when a little visiting boy played with my toy truck....and..when my Dad decided to get rid of our dog...he took me and the dog out aways and just dumped him out.  He then sped away and I looked out the back window and saw him running...but..loosing ground....Back then, people out there dumped their garbage down on the banks of the Arkansas River.  My dad could not get the garbage to come out of the five gallon container..he kept swinging it up so it would come out...it did come out..went straight up and rained down on him...I was very interested in the sand shovels that scooped sand down at the river....often times, they would take me to see the sand shovel.....and so....we all have our memories, fears, and moments of learning something for the first time.....God Bless You....b

MY EXCURSIONS ....SUMMER 1953

On week days, Mimi went to work at the clock shop which was downtown.  She traveled to and from work via a cab.  Both Grandma and Aunt had a penchant for costume jewelry and perfumes.  Mimi also had a nice collection of dresses in the closet.  Every work day, it was a major project for Mimi to get dressed for work.  She would look in the closet and make her choice....the only two choices I can remember was the "silk chantung" or the "dotted swiss"....Then the jewelry.   Finally she would yell  "Mom, here's my cab."   Grandma would walk out to the alley on the other side of the white picket fence  (passing Nora's and Lem's house)   and help Mimi into the cab.  Mildred walked using those heavy braces and crutches...her legs were locked stiff and she would lean to one side and swing a leg foreward and then do same with other leg.  Sometimes, she fell and it was a frightening experience that made her cry.  When she was at work, Grandma was doing a variety of things like the wash, cleaning..etc., so that left me alone to invent things to do.  I walked alot that Summer..going everywhere...exploring..talking to people.   My Father sent money to them to help with my expenses and a little of it was funneled my way by Grandma.  As I told you, Grandma told me to not keep company with Carla...but....we did make plans through the open windows at night and would meet somewhere at a certain time.  Grandma and Mimi went to church every Sunday and I enjoyed going with them..lots of cute girls in Sunday School..and I  fell in love with them all.  I spent alot of time down at Tick of Time Clock shop and learned how to take apart and clean Meter Clocks used to measure gas flow at oil  refineries and pipe lines.  This was long before we discovered that certain hydro-carbons were cancer causing, and both Oscar and I would sit at the bench in the back and stir parts in Benzol to clean them.  I liked to walk the two miles to Newblock Park which was a large open area with lots of trees and a huge swimming pool. I liked to look at the girls..especially their legs....On that walk to the park, I crossed over a bridge that passed over a number of railroad tracks.  One day, I saw a train approaching slowly and as the Diesel engine passed underneith, I dropped a heavy stick of wood I found on the bridge and it hit a large fan turning on the top of the engine.  Splinters went every where and I prided my self in my aim.....Mimi will be home soon and we can watch TV together and laugh.  Every day was an opportunity to see how I could make my presence known.....and I usually found a way.....(to be continued)