1 Spanish Coffee. 2 World Famous. 3 Addressing the Assembly. 4 Horse Riding. 5 Ring Toss. 6 The Time Machine (1960). 7 Take the Plunge. 8 Tonight Only. 9 San Francisco (1974).
Tag: Slide Show
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A Cat’s Up
About the only thing my folks brought with them when we moved to California was their accents. We kids brought ours too. “Can we all borrow ay catsup bottle from you all,” Peggy Ann asked our new next door neighbor Aunt Marty who lived with Uncle Hugh and their four boys and a Persian Blue. They were not our real aunt or uncle but we had many real ones but we would never know them. Ray called Mom Patty, but her real name was Mary, and Aunt Marty and Uncle Hugh called Ray, John. Uncle Hugh and Aunt Marty and their four boys and Persian Blue cat that used to sit atop the wall and stare into our bedroom moved away. The new neighbor mom Pennye’s real name was Mary too. When we first got Out West I went to public school, put ahead a grade, even though I’d never went to kindergarten, because the LA kids were slower. I remember sitting in class another kid reading aloud and I waited for the teacher to come down on him because he was saying his ay’s wrong. He said a cat with a soft article a, short and not at all sleek. It came my turn to read and I gave ay cat a hard ay, as long and hard and wiry as a cat’s tail when it’s a bottlebrush, and was astonished to hear the teacher interrupt me and correct my pronunciation of ay. Gradually we older kids lost most of our hard a’s and other quirks but the foibles of pronunciation still fool my tongue, like pass the catsup, and I wonder how his little tale might be changed had the author of my second grade book said the cat instead of a cat.
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60s & 70s Surfing Slide Show
We never tired of going down to the beach, in the mornings to surf, in the afternoons to boogie, in the evenings to walk, to catch the sunset. I bought a used Exakta 500 for surfing photos. The 50mm lens was too small, so I bought a used 120mm portrait lens. After the sun went down we sat out in the backyard and watched a slide show on the side of the garage wall.
Surf films, streaming videos, and photos often depict surf spots as gardens of paradise, perfect waves, friendly sun, and green down to tan-white sand and then the waterline, clean blues and greens. Nothing industrial going on. Very good days are rare though, and we went down to the water anyway, regardless of conditions. And once in the water, it didn’t matter. Every wave was a Top 40 hit song, every photo a classic. The beach break at El Porto was our home spot, over the dunes from the El Segundo Standard Oil Refinery. The photos we took in the 60s and 70s might today look as bad as the waves we rode. AI Assistant wants to touch them up for me, but I prefer seeing the originals, even if those are now becoming as faded as the memory, dye fading and color shifting.
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Big Sur Slide Poem
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Big Sur S l i d e PoemCurvy cli ff s r i o d a e d r o a dAround a corner a line of cars A green Ford pick-up truck another bug a BMW a VW van a red Cadillac a Woody with boards in racks on top a '56 Chevy two-toned white over powder blue a Pontiac a Malibu another bug a road maintenance truck blocking the road a couple of guys holding shovels standing in the road covered with dirt and rocks and shrubs from a slide.“How long do you think we’ll have to sit here?” Susan asks.
I stop the engine, and we get out and walk to the edge of the cliff. Early morning waves dark green still in shadow. A fishing trawler crawls slowly along a slide of smoke wavy glass wake.
We sit on the edge of the cliff and watch the swells slide toward the rocky beach a hundred feet below.
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