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A Blast from the Past

August 6, 2018

An invitation to a wedding reception for a dear friend provided the impetus it took to get me to return to my Southern California roots for a visit. I’ve been having so much fun seeing old friends and some of the stomping grounds from my childhood.

After the reception on Saturday I had some time to drive to my old neighborhood and see what has changed. I had been giving Siri way too much control over the routes I was taking, so I decided it was time to venture out using my memory, instead of my phone, for directions. Granted, I did need a brief look at a map so I didn’t end up on the other side of Los Angeles but with just a tad bit of a plan I ventured out. As I was driving I realized that I was close to my old high school and yet, sadly, I couldn’t even remember what street it was on. But knowing I was close, I pulled over, looked for the address, and found I was only two blocks away. Why not stop? I had nothing but time and inquisitiveness on my side. The front parking lot looked exactly the same although, from what I could determine, it’s no longer the entry to the school. That has moved to the “back” parking lot. A fence that has been installed since I graduated now surrounds the school. I’m not sure if it’s used to keep kids in or keep intruders out. Maybe both.

It was at this point that I decided to see if I could still get “home” from school. So, I headed up Mill Street towards Whittier Blvd. and found my way “home” using the same “short cut” I used in high school. I’m no longer convinced it’s actually the shortest way to my old house but it’s still, no doubt, the most interesting route, winding through neighborhoods and past some beautiful homes. The important thing is, I made it “home” without consulting my Maps app.

When I got to my street, I decided to park, walk around the old ‘hood, and take some pictures. If the neighbors had been peeking out their windows, I suspect the police would have shown up to question me. But, lucky for me, I didn’t hear any sirens.

This next picture is the house I lived in growing up. It’s changed A LOT since my parents moved out in 1999 but it looks nice. The gates on both sides of the house weren’t there when I was little, but I know the couple that moved in had small children and apparently it’s more dangerous to play in the street these days. Plus, we didn’t have a dog that you needed to “beware” of.

After I took a few pictures, and before the police showed up, I left and drove down the street to the park where we used to play. Everything about the park has changed except the hill in the middle, the ball field, and the bathroom. The bathroom is still as horrible as it was when I was a kid. There was no toilet paper to be found except for what was lying on the floor. Thankfully, I wasn’t desperate to use it.

I remember going to Easter Egg hunts at this park. We’d all be on one side of the park, a whistle would blow and we’d have to run up over the hill (or around it) and search for eggs. Being a rather slow runner, I never went home with very many eggs. Very traumatic! HA!

From here I drove up to one of my favorite areas of the city. Marsha Lane is a short, super steep hill, which leads to, or very close to, the “top of the city.” My brother tells me he used to skateboard on this street. If that’s true, you can be sure my mother was unaware. No mother would let her kids do that! Marsha heads up to Summit Drive, which circles around to a great park, which is truthfully, much better now than it was when I used to go there . . . even the bathrooms. I remembered their being a creek that flowed down through the park that had a nice walking path around it. As it turns out, it’s more of a water feature, but whatever, it’s still a pleasant walk along the path.

I drove a few other places before it got dark, and then circled back to Summit so I could take a picture of one of my favorite views—the city of Whittier at night.

It’s all been a very fun blast from my past. I’ve been able to see lots of old friends, and recollect lots of good memories. Thanks for taking a peek at my journey with me.

In Case the Police Show Up

July 11, 2016

I’ve taken a bit of a writing hiatus this month. If you’re a subscriber, perhaps you’ve noticed the lack of emails – perhaps not. Let’s just say I’ve been on vacation. Mostly my mind has been on vacation, but hey, it’s summer. Anyway, I’m back, and most of my mind is with me. Part of what’s been keeping me busy is a new tidiness kick. Read on.

A few weeks ago, there was a story on the front page of our local small-town paper that grabbed my attention. It was actually a very sad story that I won’t go into but one particular paragraph stood out to me. Due to a suspected crime, the sheriff’s office had searched the home in question and the newspaper article reported on what was discovered during the investigation.

It read: Investigators noted the grass was very long on the property, the inside of the residence was disorganized, and the kitchen sink was full of dishes. Rooms in the residence had clothing on the floors, toys on the ground in many rooms and in general the house was in a disorganized state.

When I finished reading I glanced up at the dirty dishes on my kitchen counter and thought, “Uh-oh, at any given time, especially if the grandkids are here, this could describe my house – sans the grass situation.” Now before you get the wrong mental image of what my house looks like, we do try to keep it as tidy as possible, and it’s clean. But there are days the dishes don’t get done in a timely manner and the dirty clothes find their way onto the floor of my bedroom instead of the hamper at the other end of the house. Hey, it’s a LONG walk down the hallway when you’re tired.

I know all of you type A people are making a mental note NEVER to come to my house, but really, just call ahead, I’ll get it in shape before you arrive. I can do it! But if you find a closed door, do not open it! Deal?

After reading this article, however, I’ve changed my ways. For instance, these days, at least 99% of the time, the only dishes you’ll find in the sink have been left there by someone else. I’ll not name names.

And at the end of the day, I now head to the hamper at the other end of the house no matter how tired I am. I look at John and say, “I’ll be right back. I have to get these clothes in the hamper. You know, in case the police show up.” Because seriously people, I don’t ever want there to be a story in the paper about my untidy house!

The added tidiness is nice – time-consuming, and sometimes exhausting, but nice. But let me tell you this, all rules go out the window when the grandkids come. If there are toys on the floor, so be it. Houses with kids should be fun, not overly tidy. But don’t worry; I do make them clean up at the end of each day. You know, in case the police show up.

For the record, I have long subscribed to this theory:

“Creative minds are rarely tidy.” – John William Gardner

Home Again

November 27, 2010

As I write this we are at the end of our very long flight home. I’m getting excited to sleep in my own bed tonight. Actually, I’ll just be excited to sleep. Our last day in Israel could be referred to as the day that never ends. But, it’s all good.

On Friday we had a free day to do as we wished. Several times during our tour our guide would tell us about something and follow it with “and you can find this artifact at the Israel museum.” So, that’s what John and I decided to do; go to the Israel museum. It probably would have been good if I’d written down everything that our guide had mentioned because by the end of the week my head was about to explode with information and I had no idea what I’d even come to see. Still, we could have spent two full days there and not seen it all. After awhile though, it’s hard for me to get excited about another rock or vessel from 13 B.C. (And yes, I know that’s suppose to be B.C.E. but I just think that’s dumb.)

The Israel museum also houses the Dead Sea Scrolls in one, very carefully climate controlled building so when we were done with the rocks, vessels, iron works, and such, we headed over the see them. Earlier this year we went to the Dead Sea Scroll exhibit when it was in St. Paul and were just a wee bit disappointed that all we got to see were scraps of paper when we’d been anticipating scrolls. All that to say we were hoping to see something more in Israel.

We got to the first spot where one of the scrolls was to be and it said “this document has been temporarily removed from exhibit.” Not a good start. Then, we saw this huge round wall in the middle with what looked like an actual scroll. As I’m looking at it I hear on our audio tour that this is a facsimile of the original book of Isaiah. A photo copy! Are you kidding me? I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see an actual “scroll” because by now, we were running out of places to look. Eventually we saw an authentic looking scroll, about three feet long, from the book of Isaiah, or at least that’s what it said. I have to take their word on that because my Hebrew is rusty.

The museum closed at 2:00 because it was Shabbot (Sabbath) and the Orthodox Jews all need to be done working, and home, by sundown. Well, they don’t have to be home, but they aren’t to be doing any work after that time. At our hotel, there was even a Shabbot elevator that stops on every floor so that they don’t have to push a button, thus doing work. Man, was there a elevator full of annoyed people when my friend accidentally got on the Shabbot elevator and pushed the button for level 4. The elevator went straight to the fourth floor, which meant that if they needed to go to the second or third floor they’d have to ride all the way to the top and all the way back down. I think she was glad to get off.

Before we got back to our hotel we went and did some shopping in the markets not owned by the Jews. I don’t really enjoy shopping in foreign marketplaces where you need to barter to get a decent price. Some of the shop owners were very pushy and that just sends me over the edge. It’s really not safe for me to shop there because I stink at bartering and would rather over pay than try to talk them down on the price. So, rather than pay hundred of dollars for therapy to recover from this ailment of mine, we just found a nice shop owner, got the souvenirs we wanted, and went back to the hotel to rest a bit before we had to clean up and get ready for our 1:00 AM departure for the airport.

So, here we are, after a short five hour flight to Amsterdam, a four hour layover, and an eight hour flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis, finally home from an amazing trip! Thanks for reading my blog posts while I’ve been gone. I’ll have a few pictures up in the next couple of days.

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