MEMORY LANE

THIS PAST WEEKEND I TOOK A SIDE TRIP ON THE WAY TO GRANDMA’S HOUSE BY WAY OF MONTECITO HEIGHTS IN EAST LOS ANGELES. I STOPPED BY A PLACE CALLED MOMS TAMALES ON PASADENA STREET THAT I SAW WHILE WATCHING DINERS DIVES AND DRIVE IN ON THE FOOD NETWORK. THAT MAKES AT LEAST FOUR PLACES I HAVE FOLLOWED GUY IN HIS SEARCH FOR GREAT FOOD AND MY FOOD WAS JUST THAT, GREAT. I ORDERED A HALF DOZEN TAMALES TO GO AND TWO FOR MY SELF THAT I SAT AND ATE ON THEIR OPEN AIR PATIO. AS I OBSERVED THE NEIGHBORHOOD I STARTED TO FEEL LIKE, “ I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE.”

AFTER LUNCH I DROVE UP PASADENA TOWARDS FIGUEROA AND THEN I FIGURED OUT WHY IT LOOKED FAMILIAR. OFF TO THE LEFT WAS A NEW METRO TRAIN STATION WITH THE TRACKS ON THE OTHER SIDE. ACROSS THE TRACKS WERE SEVERAL OLD HOMES AND VIOLA! I REMEMBERED TERESA STREET LOCATED THERE.

WHEN I WAS TWO YEARS OLD WE LIVED ON TERESA STREET AN WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A HUGE STREET WAS JUST A SHORT ONE BLOCK LITTLE ALLEY. I REMEMBER WALKING WITH MY SISTER UP TO FIGUEROA ALL THE TIME AND WE WOULD TAKE THE TROLLEY CARS DOWNTOWN TO WHERE MOM WORKED. THE TROLLY CARS WENT EVERYWHERE IN THE CITY AND THEY WERE SO FUN TO TAKE. I BELIVE THE CAR FARE WAS ABOUT TEN CENTS, AND OF CORSE I WAS FREE. TROLLEYS RAN ALL OVER THE CITY AND WENT EVERYWHERE FROM THE BEACH TO THE MOUNTAINS. MOST ROUTES TRAVELED DOWN THE MIDDLE OF VERY BUSY THROUGHFARES TO KEEP THE TROLLYS AWAY FROM THE CARS THAT WERE TAKING OVER THE CITY. ON VENICE BLVD. A HUGE OVER CROSSING BRIDGE COVERED THE INTERSECTION AT LA CIENEGA WITH A TRAIN STATION BUILT ON TOP. MANY YEARS LATER AS A TEEN AGER I LIVED WITHIN A HALF BLOCK OF WHAT USED TO BE THE TRAIN STATION. DOWNTOWN TUNNELS MADE THEIR WAY UNDER BUNKER HILL WHERE HUGE VICTORIAN MANSIONS DOTTED THE VIEW. THE ANGELES FLIGHT RAIROAD RAN UP AND DOWN BUNKER HILL TO TAKE THE RESIDENTS TO THEIR HOMES. THE FAIR WAS AGAIN TEN CENTS. BUNKER HILL IS NOW LONG GONE. IT WAS RAZED TO MAKE WAY FOR SOMETHING CALLE URBAN RENEWAL.

AS I APPROACHED THE AGE OF EIGHT OR NINE YEARS OLD, I REMEMBER THEM PULLING UP THE TROLLY TRACKS FOR A NEW AND IMPROVED TRANSIT SYSTEM WHERE THEY USED GASOLINE AND DIESEL DRIVEN TROLLEYS CALLED BUSES. I THINK MANY PEOPLE REALIZED THAT THE END OF AN ERA WAS CLOSE. SOON ALL THE TROLLEYS AND RED CAR TRAINS WERE GONE AND ALL THAT WAS LEFT WAS BROWN SCARED DIRT AND WEED STREWN MEDIANS THROUGH OUT THE CITY. SOON EVEN THEY WERE GONE REPLACED BY ADDITIONAL TRAFFIC LANES FOR CARS AND BUSES. I SADLY REMEMBER THE OVERCROSSING AT VENICE BEING TORN DOWN TO MAKE WAY FOR A FUTURE FREEWAY OVER PASS (BTW THE SAME OVERPASS THAT FELL DOWN IN THE 1994 NORTHRIDGE QUAKE).

TERESA STREET SEEMED LIKE THE LARGEST STREET IN THE WORLD TO THIS TWO YEAR OLD. THE PENTICOSTAL CHURCH LOCATED DOWN THE STREET WERE WE WOULD SNEEK AT NIGHT TO LISTEN TO THE HOLY ROLLERS AS THEY WERE REFERRED TOO YELL AND RANT IN THE NAME OF RELIGION, WOULD GIVE WAY TO THE NEW TRANSIT STATION OF TODAY. THE BIG STEAM LOCOMOTIVES THAT CHUGGED DOWN THROUGH THE CANYON AND ACROSS FIGUEROA WOULD BE REPLACED BY THE DIESEL SANTA FE SUPER CHIEF PASSENGER TRAINS AND LATER BY THE LIGHT RAIL THAT NOW RUNS TO PASADENA.

MANY THINGS HAVE CHANGED IN THE 57YEARS SINCE, BUT THERE AGAIN, HAVE THEY? THE ORANGE LINE LIGHT RAIL FOLLOWS THE LINE OF THE TROLLEYS THAT WE USED TO RIDE AND PERHAPS SOME DAY, THE LIGHT RAIL WILL TAKE PASSENGERS TO ALL THE PLACES I TRAVELED AS A YOUNG BOY.

THANKS FOR WALKING WITH ME DOWN MEMORY LANE. (AKA TERESA STREET). AS ALWAYS,

DAD

I AM WHO I AM AND YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE

I am today who I am because of the acts of many. I was raised by a single mother and three fathers who were a part of my life only for short periods. None of you can relate as you were raised by a mother and father. Though times were tough and many times moneys were not available for frivolous activities. You are today who you are because of the way we raised you. For the most part, you have all become decent, honorable citizens that participate in the lives of your own families and they will benefit from your efforts. Hopefully you have been a good example.

My birth father knew of my birth but didn’t bother to see me until I was about a year and half old. According to records on his death certificate he was married to another woman other than my mother. He led a double life with and had an additional family on the east coast. I can assume that he moved our small family to California shortly before my birth to hide us from his other family. I was born at home, two months ahead of the due date in Hollywood (121 ½ Rampart Blvd.- ½ block away from the 1st Tommy’s Burger stand) otherwise I would have been born in Dam Neck, Virginia. I can only remember meeting him once in my life. He died of a broken neck after diving into shallow water when I was 2 years old, with another woman signing his death certificate as his wife.

My second father came into our lives when I was five. A postal worker he envisioned himself as a movie star. He had appeared in the our gang comedies as the character Jacky (the boy with the crooked hat) as a child. His father, a camera man for MGM Studios when they had hand crank cameras, placed him in movies when he noted a vacancy that needed to be filled. Living only two blocks from the studios, he was a good close resource. His parents were English he was born in Calgary, Alberta, Canada while his father was on location filming a movie. Divorce ended the marriage after 8 years when he could not accept their new found religion and alcohol took over his life.

My third father (Pop) was the savior of my mothers life and sanity. They married late in life and finally found the true love of which both sought for a long time. Each had baggage from prior marriages but both gained the companionship for which they needed. They were not the perfect couple but for better or worse, they are now, together, paving the way for the rest of us in the hear-after.

Recently I learned that perhaps, I was not the best father because I failed to be one who could listen, or one, whom my children could confide in. I caught the blame for that one child’s experimentations in life. I guess I thought by keeping a close tab on my children, being a tough authoritarian, and not letting you have a lot of freedoms that others may have had, didn’t work to make you into model citizens. I guess I failed because you all turned out so bad.

Well, so much for the trip down memory lane. Until next week.

Dad

another memory lane

When I was five years old and living on Armadale Avenue in Eagle Rock my mother left for a few days and came home with a step father. His name was Gilbert Hugh Porter and he worked for the post office at UCLA. We moved soon there after all the way to West Los Angles. My mother gave birth to a younger brother about a year later however he died soon after birth leaving me the youngest surviving of my siblings. The area was largely rural or a least in the stage of being built up. Lots of open fields and farms stretched towards the Pacific only four miles west. My step father didn’t like to be tied down to staying home in our apartment so most weekends and available holidays were spent at the beach, fishing. Our week end travels took us up and down the coast of California, where I had the experience of seeing much of California prior to the growth that would populate every corner of the Golden State.

This weekend I had the opportunity of re-tracing some of my earlier steps as a young adolescent. Prior to Freeways being built that take us everywhere, two lane country roads ran from one end of the state to the other. Needless to say it took forever to get anywhere without expressways. Several wrong turns or detours off the freeway this weekend brought back the memories of the long drives of long ago. The city, if you could call it that, stopped at Santa Ana and the highway ran along the railroad tracks to San Diego. San Juan Capistrano was a small town across the tracks. 25 miles down the road. San Clemente had a few homes around the historic train station. One gasoline station and that was it. In San Diego I thought the Ocean ended because it all turned to mud. Actually I was looking at the southern end of San Diego Bay. The area south became Mexico but as far as I was concerned Mexico was on another planet.

Mom and I walked across the border this time and walked along the roadway shopping where most of the Americans waited in their cars to get back into the USA. We rode the trolleys to the border as well as ride to Old Town San Diego. This is the spot where the Mormon Battalion laid claim for the United States to the territory of California. Some of the buildings though modernized were built then and have lasted till now. A morning journey to the A gold rush town of Julian was special and on the drive back we ended up taking the PCH to slow the journey down. It was nice to travel what was a two lane road from San Clemente to Long Beach. What is now built up most of the way now, was just a few small towns separated by long distances. Near Seal Beach, which is still somewhat open space on the military base, I can recall mountains of larger round metal objects with spikes coming out of them. They were all stacked very carefully in a very orderly manner. I asked what they were back then and my parents said their were mines. I couldn’t quite grasp what they had to do with mines (?Gold Mines) until as I grew older I realized they were explosive mines left over from World War II just 10 years prior. There were literally millions of these mines stored for years afterwards in this area.

Well enough of a trip down memory lane. Hope you enjoyed the trip.

Dad

Peach Festival: Hurricane, Utah

Had a thrill this weekend. After a long and hard week at work, full of stress and emotion, I left the office early on Friday headed to the Long Beach Airport and more stress. 150 of 150 seats sold on the JetBlue flight to Las Vegas. Though at the time I was number one on the standby list (it later changed to #2) I knew I was not going to make the flight. I even had an ace up my sleeve with an additional seat booked out of Burbank… But…. Holiday traffic was going to make it impossible to make the later flight on time. Then as if a miracle… 14 people who had checked in, didn’t get on the flight so I made it. In Las Vegas, a shuttle was waiting to St. George… I needed a weekend of fun and no stress and well on its way.

Got to ride on the Fire truck at the Peach Festival, with Adam driving and Daken, Ashlynne, and Paityn riding with as well. It was nice and just the break I needed. All of my worries and cares were gone. As I reflect back in my life, very few days can compare as to being as memorable. I recall being full of woe with a heavy heart about work problems and relaxing at big meadow for a few days stress break back about 1990. As I reflect on early married life with a small family I recall times stress and blowing off steam by putting a hole in the wall of the house we lived in on Avenue L-4 in Quartz Hill. As a child growing up I recall family stress happening but I don’t remember why. I do recall that as small as my family was (Divorced mother, married sister with a family of her own and a brother who lived his own life a coast away and hadn’t bothered to contact his mother or family for almost 20 years). Even as dysfunctional as we were, we coped and handled it together, and the stress passed.

I loved my mother and what she did to make sure, I/we made it. I am today what I am because of her dedication. I was afraid to do anything really bad because of how disappointed she would have been in me. Thank you family, for giving me a great weekend. Now at home for a day before returning to work, I am happy and ready to face the world for another week. Sad to see summer coming to an end, happily looking forward to autumn and the peace that comes from watching the seasons change.
As Always, Dad

Sayings of the the week,
“Life is hard… but its even harder if your stupid!” John Wayne
“What we obtain too easy, we fail to respect.” Unknown