Central Coast Senior

Yesterday was a big day. With my vacation over I had to return to work. I went in to say my goodbyes, turn in my badges and retire. After 26.5 years with Boeing I was ready to move on and do something different.

I should have known that my plan was doomed to fail as I couldn’t even get to the office without having to sit in a back up on the freeway so that Caltrans could fix some guardrails. So after 15 minutes of crawling on the freeway like I was back in southern California, I was able to complete my journey to VAFB.

When I got to work, I could see that I was going to be missed. I walked to my office and there taped to my door was a big sign that stayed WELCOME BACK!! And then below that in smaller print they added “Now go home” Obviously I was going to be missed. It was funny my office was really not my office anymore. You could tell because clean!! Definitely not a workspace I would have been using.

My plan for the day was to go in spend an hour or so saying good bye to people and then go to lunch with Dawn and Frank. Figure in by 10 and out by Noon. A two hour day in the office seemed perfect. Well I was surprised, how difficult it was to actually say good bye. Everyone I met wanted to talk for a bit and it was a real pleasure spending time talking with them. It’s funny I liked everyone it seemed a little bit more than normal and I figured that was because I could see them as people and not coworkers. On this day I didn’t need anything from them no status, no paperwork, and It made a difference. The bad part of that though was that my in by 10 out by Noon suffered. It took me 3 hours to actually walk around and talk to all the people and it made me realize 2 things. 1) that I really had worked with a great group of people. And 2) getting out was the definitely right thing to be doing. The actual sign out process took all of 5 minutes, way simple.

So after driving away for the last time, I met with Frank and Dawn at Rooney’s in Orcutt for a quick lunch, only lasted 4 hours and between the drinks and the food we had a great time. They told me how sad everyone was that I wasn’t there and that people from the program in Huntsville were sorry that I was gone. Hard to believe, but maybe…

So as I was saying goodbye to them, we agreed to try and do this once a month just so we could stay in touch. Definitely looking forward to that.

And the part about my legacy? It seems one of my phrases that I used to explain life at work has begun to show up on white boards in offices throughout the building. And the phrase?

You have no friends at work…..

Go figure.

After the 3rd grade , I don’t have many memories of the 4th grade. But when I hit the 5th boy did I start to have fun. I mean how many people can actually claim that they had the ability to fly like a bird!! My method was pretty straight forward, I would get on the swing and after getting it going really high I would launch myself from the top of the arc and begin flapping my arms like mad.

And since I hung there for awhile, it was obvious to me that I was flying. The best part was that over time, my memories of this somehow managed to improve the experience to the point where I was able to actually control my height and stay up waaay longer than science would say was possible. I even have memories of performing this feat by leaping off of the pull up bar. I also remember the landing being a little more painful than normal.
And for the record there are witnesses, lots of them. Now I suppose you think if this were the case I would have names to associate with this event. Well I don’t, what 5th grader would take the time to record the names of people witnessing their flight? After all I was pretty busy flapping.

I don’t remember there names. But trust me they were there.

Eisenhower was your typical elementary school, for California. I make that distinction because when we moved here I was in the 3rd grade. I was an average student back in Michigan, but when I went to class for the first time at Eisenhower, I thought they had put me a class for dummies! Everyday I seemed to have to relearn something that I had already learned in 2nd grade and it was not very exciting to have to ‘learn’ it again. Fortunately my class finally caught up to me and I was learning for real again.

It was in the 3rd grade that I learned the secret to winning an election. Every month we elected a new class president and my first month there I decided to run, I figured how hard could it be? And then I found out we had to give a speech in front of the class on why we should be elected. Well my competition went first, guess they did okay, now though it was my turn. So I bravely marched up to the front of the class, put my back to the chalkboard, I faced the class and gave an incredible speech on why I thought it was important that as the new kid in class this would be a great way for me to get to know the class better. As my speech went on, I saw all the kids shaking their heads in agreement and I knew I had them! At least that’s what I did in my mind, the fact was the teacher looked at me and said ” Well Lenny aren’t you going to say anything?” So I shook my head yes and said “I should be elected class preside…” it’s at this point I ran crying from the room. So the teacher followed me outside, and told me to take my time and pull myself together before I came back into class. So 5 minutes later I walk in and the teacher says “Okay class, lets congratulate Lenny on becoming our new class president!”

Little did I know that this was the least of my adventures at this school! In no particular order, the things I managed to accomplish included, saw an alien, punched a kid out, flew by flapping my arms, and discovered that I liked to write and that I loved science fiction. Obviously more to follow

Barry was the youngest of three boys and just young enough to get left behind when his older brothers thought they would go off and do big boy things. But the thing about Barry is he was always his own person and I can’t ever remember a time where he didn’t do it his way. Even when he was very young he did it his way.  From deciding to swim when he wanted to do it, to talking when he felt like it.

I remember the story my mom told me about how Barry had yet to begin to talk and it drove mom and dad crazy. He wouldn’t say momma or daddy or anything and this went on for a couple of years, it was so bad that mom nicknamed him Mumbles. Then one day mom was standing in the kitchen and Barry walked up and got her attention and out of the blue began to speak in full sentences!! Needles to say mom was more than just a little shocked.

As we became older Barry became an important member of our sports world. He made it easy to play ‘pickle’ in the backyard, or play tackle football in the house. When playing football, Barry almost always ended up being the player that had to play on the offense for both sides.  I guess this shows just how tough he was. We were able to play tackle football indoors because our house was set up with a central wall that had a fireplace on both sides. This broke up the family room and the living room but also provided an opportunity to run around the fireplace going from the family room, to the kitchen, then through the dining room,  hallway, and living room, where you could then go back into the family room. so for football you had to make 10 loops to score a touchdown.  Which sucked for the offense because they had to run 10 times around while the defender was able to stand there and just wait for them to come around again. This meant the poor blocker, Barry, had to run around all those times for both teams and then try and block. But he never complained.

When we were older our parents bought a camper and then replaced it with motor homes.  They also bought Doug and I Motorcycles and poor Barry again never complained. He would occasionally get to drive; but usually was stuck being the passenger, so that when I did a wheelie in the dirt without telling him, I flipped him off the back and the license plate tore him up. I felt bad, but since it was my baby brother I am ashamed to admit I didn’t feel bad for long. I think I felt bad only as long as I thought mom or dad might punish me and once that period had passed, I figured everything was okay and away I went.

We also liked to take the camper and head to Death Valley for Christmas and spend a week or so just camping and exploring. One time we were there and at Badwater Basin which is 282 feet below sea level. Well Doug and I decided we were going to climb the cliff face and see if we could reach the sign. We told Barry to stay behind because he was too small. So off we went, after climbing and slipping and climbing some more we all the sudden hear our mom yell at us watch your little brother. So Doug and I turn around and sure enough there was Barry heading up after us as fast as he could. So needless to say after we slipped a few more times we decided the best thing to do was to head back down and take our brother with us.

Barry also was part of the car rally crowd with Dad, Doug, Barry, and myself. It seemed like at least once a month we piled into Dad’s car, which was a Triumph TR4a and head of to Balboa Park to take part in a Skill/Gimmick Car Rally. Which is where you are given a set of rules and instructions to follow and you have to interpret the rules to see how they might impact the instructions and then along the way you would answer questions to score points. Best part of the car rally was that they would always end at pizza parlor where dad would order us sodas and pizza before we headed home. We actually were good enough a couple of times to win.

I don’t remember much of Barry’s pre college school years. He was far enough behind that it didn’t register. But what I do remember was that Barry was the only one to follow in Dad’s footsteps and majored in Chemical Engineering. First at Cal Poly Pomona and then at Long Beach State. I also remember that when he was at Cal Poly Pomona he had the best thing that was ever going to happen to  him occur. He met a lady by the name of Hasmig who would one day becomes Mrs. Barry Johnson.  And as for their school, I remember how jealous I was of them. Barry was able to take a college level class that gave him credit for drinking beer and Hasmig took a Wine Class!! I was definitely going to the wrong school

Barry met Hasmig at Disneyland where Barry worked behind the scenes in the kitchen for one of the restaurants. Unfortunately Barry and his boss didn’t have the best of relationships so the boss always gave Barry the worst tasks. One day though Barry had his revenge. Barry had just picked up a stack of trays and was moving them up to the front when his boss comes in and yells “Barry drop what your doing and go clean up the mess up front” somebody had just thrown up (I think)

Barry said “You don’t mean that”

His Boss yells “I gave you an order, drop what your doing and clean that mess up, Now!”

So Barry did. He dropped the stack of trays right where he was standing and went to clean up the mess. Way to go Barry.

When Hasmig and Barry were married, on January 26, 1985, it was an Armenian Orthodox services where Barry’s friend from the military came to act as his best man. There was a point where the priest asks the best man to bless the couple by anointing them with a heavy metal cross. Well he very gently tapped the back of Hasmig’s head and then turned to Barry and hit him hard enough to buckle his knees a bit. Fortunately he survived the service without a concussion. For the reception it was held at a country club at a golf course where Hasmig’s mom insisted that name tags be set up for all the guests. Well…. those of us that arrived first took a less strenuous approach. We took 2 tables and tipped the chairs saying they were reserved for the families of the Barry and Hasmig. So when here mom shows up she panics and screams that the reception is ruined. After a few rough minutes she calmed down and everything went along fine. We had a nice dinner and in true Johnson fashion access to alcohol. What else would we need.

Next up were the speeches. The best man and maid of honor did a good job, but then they turned the mic over to the audience. Hasmig’s uncle gets up, and you can tell he cares for Hasmig a lot, he goes on for 5 – 10 minutes on the wonders of Hasmig. So he finishes and they ask for someone to speak for Barry. I look up and my dad isn’t moving, I look at the table I am at with my brother and sisters, and they aren’t moving. So it looks like it’s up to me.  So here goes something, I stand up and pick up my glass and look to Barry and Hasmig and say

“Hasmig I know I speak for my whole family when I say thank you'”

And I sit down. The room goes silent for a second and then the laughter begins. Perfect.

Now Barry always seemed to love his cars. His all time favorite being his yellow flying door wedge the Triumph TR-7. He loved that car and you would always see him cruising around with the top down and rebel civil war cap on the top of his head.  He didn’t like being without either the car or the hat. The day he had sell his TR-7 you would have thought he had lost a family member. But he kept the hat.

Barry and Hasmig have three children Virginia, Ani, and Haig. Great kids all growing up to be as independent as their dad.  Growing up they liked to travel and my brother being who he was wasn’t satisfied with driving from hotel to hotel and restaurant to restaurant. No Barry had to be different, to that end he learned to cook while he drove. He found a book and learned how to actually cook meals by wrapping them in Aluminum Foil, placing them in just the right spot on his engine and then driving until the food was fully cooked. Amazing, I hear he managed to actually cook a whole chicken like that too.

Barry took his wife and kids every where, and the funniest story for me was when Barry and Hasmig pulled into the Martin Luther King Center for Nonviolent Social Change in Atlanta, Georgia. Barry said they had a good time touring the exhibits only to come out and find that someone had decided that they should break their side window and steal the camera out of their car. Oh the Irony.

When our Dad passed away, Barry, Hasmig, and Virginia moved into my folks home in Garden Grove and took over the payments. Ani and Haig were born while they lived there, so it was neat that the house was still serving a purpose in the family.  They lived there for several years until Barry lost his job and they had to move to Mishawaka, Indiana.  It was a sad day when they left and for many years we lost touch except for the holidays.

But thanks to the computer age, Barry and I were able to chat sometimes on line. The 3 hours difference made it tough, but with me being a night owl and him being an early riser we hooked up multiple times and were able to talk about many things. It was during these chats that I learned that family was very important to Barry, he seemed to go out of his way to stay in touch with most of us and he always seemed to have an idea of what everyone was up to.  If it wasn’t for him, I honestly think we would have drifted further apart from each other and may have stopped talking altogether.

It was from these calls I learned about his diabetes and celiac and it was he that kept pushing me to get tested because I was a very likely candidate to suffer from celiac. Of course I didn’t believe him, at least not until the cramps were so bad I had to order my doctor to test me. And when she was done, Barry was right.

He told me of his adventures making beer and how some of it wasn’t too bad. He talked about Linux, the 3rd operating system for computers that only really independent types went to. He also would only buy his family phones that ran the Palm operating system because again it wasn’t part of the herd mentality.

It was such a shock the day I learned that my brother had passed away in his hotel in Birmingham, Alabama. I couldn’t believe it, I was unable to grasp the reality of it for quite awhile. Going to the service that they had for him was very special. The number of people that showed up that all had wonderful things to say about him was amazing and rewarding. Playing a little bit of chess with Haig right there in front of Barry’s ashes will always have a special place in my heart.

I want to thank Barry too, from his passing something good came about. We started to have family reunions just so we could stay better in touch and have a few precious minutes to laugh, and tell silly stories about our childhoods. This was something that Barry had always pushed for but none of us ever seemed to find the time until it was too late. I miss you Boo Boo Bear, you were and are amazing and I thank god for the times we had.

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When we came to California in 1963 my folks bought a 3 bedroom 2.5 bath house in Garden Grove. It was way better than any of the apartments that we lived in in Michigan or Washington, although it wasn’t nearly as cool as Grandpa and Grandma Logsdon’s home in Flint, MI.

When we moved in, it was a brand new house in a new neighborhood at the corner of Harbor Blvd and Garden Grove Blvd. The house backed up onto a big empty strip of land, we could see houses and business across the way but had no idea that within the next few years there would be a Freeway in our backyard. It turned out that it was the future home of the 22 Freeway.  Now we thought it was pretty cool when they were putting the freeway in. I will admit the coolness factor dropped drastically when the cars took over. But fortunately they eventually came through and planted trees in our backyard to act as a sound barrier.

The house was located on Pearce Ave. which had empty fields at each end,  This turned out to be the best thing ever as it was really awkward for cars to turn around so we ended up with very little traffic. This meant we could spend all our time in the street playing football, over the line, war, bicycle and skateboard riding and dang near anything else 3 young boys could think of. And with streetlights it was easy to figure out when the play day was over. With a little effort we built an underground fort, I think it lasted all of 2 weeks before the city came in and bulldozed it full.

This house was also within walking distance of our elementary school (Eisenhower Elementary about 3/4 mile walk), our middle school (Leroy H. Doig, about 1.2 miles), and our high school (Santiago High, about 1 mile) . This was nice because our mom almost never had to drive us, except when it was really rainy.

This neighborhood turned out to be perfect, at least to me. We had a Jack-in-the-Box(late night Jumbo Jacks with mom and dad) and Del Taco (Taco Tuesday 10 Tacos for a $1) just around the corner, an Alpha Beta Grocery store (by then I had grown out of my shoplifting ways) just a short walk down the street and when I got older it had my kind of candy store – Sav-On Electronics, I could build anything I wanted perfect.

I lived there for 15 years and kept going back until 1989 and every one of them was filled with many wonderful memories.

Growing up and going to school in Michigan and California, I can still remember the difference in the school systems. In Michigan I did Kindergarten, 1st and 2nd grades. For my 3rd  grade and on I became a product of the California system. It’s funny in Michigan, I re3meber having to take my nap in Kindergarten so they would deliver the milk for our break. In 1st and 2nd grade I remember the parties, the most memorable being a valentines party where I for the one time in my life took part in passing out cards to the kids in my class. I don’t remember studying for math, English, or science tests. All I remember is the parties. You would think with those kinds of memories I would be in poor shape when we came to  California

While imagine my surprise when I made it to my 3rd grade class at Dwight D. Eisenhower Elementary school for the first time and discovered that I was already better at math, could read better and actually write in cursive better than them. I also remember mom and dad arguing with the school to try and fix it so I could stay advanced. Unfortunately the lost and I had to learn things all over again. So needless to say I coasted through most of the third grade.

 Eisenhower today – GreatSchools Website gave it a score of 4 out of 10.

This also where I started my short political career. I ran for class president and won!!! I ran for president on the Pity Platform. You would be amazed at the impact it has on a group of kids when in the middle of your “why I should be elected” speech you start to cry and run from the room. In this instance I was the overwhelming winner. Good thing is it didn’t leave too many emotional scars…..

Now the best thing I discovered in my elementary school years in California was Summer School!! This was fun! I was allowed to take classes in things that were fun. Unlike today, Summer School was open to all students and you could take classes in subjects that interested you, I was able to take a creative writing class in the sixth grade that instilled in me my desire to be a writer – someday. Just not today. I also was allowed to take a shop class and “No Tim your too young for power tools” was the motto. I did get to beat the heck out of stuff with a hammer though.

Also while attending Eisenhower I had the opportunity to let people now that my family watched out for each other. One day Doug and his friends were playing basketball, when the ball goes out of bounds and is picked up by one of the school toughs. Doug goes up and politely asks for the ball and is told no. So he asks again and is rebuffed once more. I am standing nearby so I walk up and ask him to give him the ball, he looks at me and tells me no, so I ask him again by hitting him in the stomach, doubling him over and then once on the back of the head and guess what Doug now has the ball. And I was allowed to spend the rest of recess standing on the line. Which points out a valuable life lesson. Don’t fight fairly, fight to win.

Other fond memories include strange things only a kid would believe, like I was so light growing up, I used to be able to fly by flapping my arms really hard.  I can actually visualize in my head flying above the swings as if it really happened. I know it can’t be true but what if????

All of Madison Heights used to tremble in fear of my gang. Well maybe not everyone, but there was this one cat that we sure scared, once. Let’s face it how tough can a group of 3 – 7 year olds really be? The truth is I used to be the leader of a group of about 7-8 kids in the apartment complex we lived in and like all kids we did all the normal things one would expect. We played football, 7 on 1 with me being the one, we rode bikes, played in the fields and of course we had rock fights with the 6th graders over a hill in the field behind our apartment.

We probably averaged 1 rock fight a month over the right to play on that stupid hill. Matter of fact, if it wasn’t winter and we were going sledding, I think the only times we wanted to play on the hill was when the 6th graders were there just so we could have a fight. I can safely say we never lost. Looking back I think that was more a factor of the dinner bell or the street lights coming on, then us just chasing them off. But that’s okay; the important thing is that we won. The other thing that probably helped us is this field surrounding the hill was full of ammunition, where the dirt hill, while those on the dirt hill were a little limited in available throw able rocks. While most of the rock fights sort of run together in my memory, there was one rock fight that ended up being very personnel. One day Doug was just playing in the field right behind our apartment backdoor when all of the sudden one of the 6th graders throws a rock and hits Doug in the head. I come around back, see this and yell at Barry to go get the gang, we are going to war. So while he was off marshaling the forces, I began throwing rocks from a safe distance. Once everyone showed up we probably for the only time actually charged the hill, I was out for blood. I remember being tucked up against the side of the hill waiting for a chance to hurl my next rock, when I looked up just in time to see this kid with a really big rock getting ready to drop it on my head, fortunately I backed off threw my rock at him, don’t know if I hit him, all I remember is he staggered back and dropped his big rock so it just rolled down off the hill without hitting anyone.

I guess here is where I confess more of my criminal past. My mom used to send me to the store to get a loaf of bread or a little milk, she would let me walk to a grocery store that was located just outside the apartment complex. Well because we were a young family and my dad had to support 7 mouths and even then I and my brothers each ate for two. We never had lots of extra money. So I would always have to go and bring back all the change and turn it back over to my mom when I was done. Well one day I was hungry when I was there and there were empty lanes up front, and each lane had lots of candy, and I had lots of empty pockets, it seemed like the perfect match. So yes I shoplifted candy . I was pretty good at it too, I could fill all my pockets with candy, pay for whatever I was there to get and then devour all the candy before I made it home. A perfect system! Until the day I got greedy. My last time there was one candy, I think it was one of those cellophane packages that had a long roll of malted milk balls in them, and it was right next to the cashier’s back. It turns out that was the only aisle that had those and I had to have them. So I very carefully grabbed a package, shoved them in my coat pocket, turned around, took two steps and felt a large hand on my shoulder. Yes I was busted. This nice lady went through my jacket pockets and took back all the store’s candy that was in them and told me to never do that again or she would call my parents. I assured her it would never happen again, and it didn’t, paid for my loaf of bread and high tailed it home. Fortunately, I still had the candy in my pants pockets to hold me over until dinner.

Other memories of Madison Heights include tornados, Good Humor Ice Cream Trucks, and Comics. Now my reoccurring memory of tornados was how every time after a tornado alert, we would go outside and see that the weather was completely different. I must have believed in the Wizard of Oz, because I was convinced that these tornados were picking our apartment complex up and moving it every time. Okay so I was a little naïve. But seriously wouldn’t that have been cool?

Now Good Humor Ice Cream Trucks, oh my lord, every kids favorite. The sound of the Good Humor trucks music entering the complex excited all of us. From the Orange Dream sickles to the peanut covered chocolate bars. We could never get enough. It was way better than anything you could get today from one of the run down trucks of today. While mom and dad wouldn’t let us get ice cream every time the truck came around, we sure had plenty of it. I also think we scored more ice cream when dad was around, he like it too.

I fell in love with comics in Michigan. I could never have enough. I didn’t have favorites as long as it involved super heroes. I had a neighbor a couple of doors down that loved comics just as much and we would trade and share all of the time. I feel guilty now, but back then I thought I was really lucky. My friends mom was in the hospital for some reason and his dad would have to take him with him when he went to visit. Many times he would take me with them to keep my friend company. While 6 year olds aren’t the most patient types, so to keep us under control he would stop at a store and let us each pick out 2 or 3 comics that we could read while he left us in the lobby during his time upstairs.

Now the one other thing I remember is the funeral for JFK. I can remember sitting in the living room watching our old black and white TV as the motorcade worked it’s way down the street. I didn’t understand it completely, but I knew it was important and I remember how quite we all had to be while it was on., I remember mom and dad being very sad and little did I know that this event in a strange way was linked to what would become one of my passions as I got older. Space Exploration and Astronomy. For with our JFK pushing us into the Space Race I would have never have been allowed to witness space ships and moon landings in real life.

As I finish this post one thing I am noticing is just how different the world is today. Back then, parents gave no thought to their kids walking to a grocery store, or sitting in lobbies unattended. Things really were simpler and easier and I wish my kids could have experienced a life like that. A time without fear, okay except maybe for the shoplifting thing, a time when neighbors trusted each other more and kids didn’t need to be under a watchful eye every minute. Well here’s hoping.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to die. Stomach Viruses are certainly nasty and this one was nasty. This got me to thinking. As I have said we spent the first 7 years of my life living in either Washington or Michigan what I didn’t say is that I think I spent most of my time sick. I can remember Michigan having to wear earmuffs all the time. Even indoors!! It felt like I had permanent earaches.

I also spent way too much time in hospitals. Once from the croup, and then to have my tonsils and adenoids removed. All this before I turned 5. I remember my adenoids being taken out because that was the first time that the medical community lied to me. I can still remember the doctor coming into my room and asking me if I wanted to have them operate on me to take out my adenoids or to take this magical medicine that would make them melt away. Needless to say I took the magic medicine, which turned out to be a suppository that helped to knock me out so they could then operate on me. I have to admit, I wasn’t too happy when I woke up and found out that they had lied to me. Oh well at least I had the ice cream.

Having to wear earmuffs all the time caused another problem that wouldn’t be discovered for another 22 years. It was uncovered when I started my first job at Northrop. As part of the pre-employment I had to take a hearing test. I had thought I had done okay, that is until the nurse walks up to me and yells at me “DO YOU NEED A HEARING DEVICE FOR YOUR TELEPHONE?”

When she yelled, it scared the crap out of me. I told her no, but 20 years later I began wearing hearing aides.

I have to admit the best thing that ever happened for me health wise was moving to CA. Since moving here, the good news was that I didn’t get sick nearly as often but the bad news was that now when I would get sick, it would be extra nasty. Just like last night…

Growing up I can remember only 2 different train trips with the family. One was my mom demonstrating she was a real warrior. She moved us from Washington to Michigan on a train without Dad. I have no idea how she did it, but we all made it in one piece. The real funny thing for me is that I remember sitting in the regular coach car as we pulled into the station and we were all staring out the windows to try and see our dad. Don’t remember seeing him. But I guess it worked out, after all he was around for a long time.

The second time there were more of us and our dad was with us. I remember we had a stateroom with the really cool beds that pulled down out of the wall. I remember pulling into a station, somewhere and Dad telling Mom that he would get off the train while it was stopped and pick us up some sandwiches. We were excited about that and we kept staring out the window trying to catch a glimpse of him going into the station. We failed, we were looking backwards along the train and he probably got off and on more towards the front. Well I didn’t know that, so when the train started to pull out of the station and my Dad wasn’t back, I immediately jumped to the conclusion that we had left him at the station. He was gone forever, there is no way he could catch up and he would never find us again. So I start telling Mom that Dad isn’t back and we need to stop the train. Mom looks at me like I am an idiot and tells me to hush up. Well I stopped talking and I thought I would replace it with some good ole fashion sniffling. That went over well, as you might guess, until Dad magically appeared back in the room, hurray he was saved!!!

The last time we moved was from Michigan to California, Dad had a job at an Airplane company so we had to drive out. This was in 1963 so the family station wagon was a boat, but it had that cool 3rd seat that faced the back. This is of course where my brothers and I preferred to sit. So Mom and Dad had to go cross country in a station wagon staying at cheap hotels. And the best memory of that was breakfast one morning, Dad went to the liquor store near the hotel to pick up some cereal and milk for us to eat. Unfortunately, the liquor store was out of milk, Of the white variety.

So Dad brought us Rice Crispies and Chocolate Milk.

And yes it tastes as bad as it sounds. But we were at least able to get to California in one piece. My last memory of that car is the day it pulled into the driveway of our house for the 16 years in Garden Grove.

Our Washington Apartment with the pool was located just outside of Seattle. I was able to revisit it one time on a business trip to Boeing when Dad and I were up there together on a business trip in the mid 80’s. Funny thing is the place looked exactly as I remembered it. We even found the old apartment building that we lived in.

Which takes me back to when I was 4. It was Doug, Barry, Mom, Dad, and I living in this little 2 bedroom apartment. Doug and I had bunk beds, Barry had a crib still, and I don’t remember the room being that big. But what I remember most is ICE CREAM!!! I know, weird. But Doug and I both had our tonsils out there and of course we got ICE CREAM. Granted I think we had our choice of any flavor of Vanilla that we wanted. And lets face it for 3 and 4 year olds after Ice Cream what else is there.

The other thing I remember is how even at 4 mom trusted me to take care of myself. I got to walk myself to and from a 60’s version pre-school that was located in the apartment complex. I thought this was neat, that is until I got lost. Well not really lost, let’s call it confused. Anyways I walked myself home one day and when I came around to the front of the building, I stopped, looked around, and immediately became scared. I didn’t recognize anything!!! So being the resourceful 4 year old I was, I took option 1 and retraced most of my steps. When I was done, I ended up in exactly the same spot and immediately switched to option 2. I stood there and cried for what felt like forever, but was probably just a few seconds. So after my crying fit was over I told myself that I couldn’t be lost, because I took the right path home, so I screwed up my courage and took my little sniffling self and hesitantly headed to the door that just had to my apartment building. I remember going through the door of the building and seeing this REALLY, REALLY long hallway that I had to go down. This didn’t look like my hallway. So I slowly walked down to the end of the hallway and there was a plain old apartment door, which looked like every other apartment door, and I tried the handle. It opened!!! So I slowly pushed the door open, because lets face it if I was going into the wrong apartment I didn’t want to be yelled at. So I finally pushed it all the way open and there was mom looking at me and asking what is wrong and why are you crying? I told her I had gotten lost in front of the apartment and she just laughed and told me to go clean-up.