Okies with English as a second language.

We were not great communicators. We often responded to others inquiries with volumes of silence. Few words would come from our lips spontaneously. We Okies were slow to think and slow to reply. Mostly because we seldom spoke out loud to say anything. All of which is characteristic of southern Oklahoma red dirt Okies. OurContinue reading “Okies with English as a second language.”

A tale of two neighborhoods.

It was the best of times and the worst of times. It all started out in our little working class community in East Los Angeles. Located between the B. F. Goodrich tire factory on the west end and the Edison high tension power lines on the east. About two miles from end to end. SeeContinue reading “A tale of two neighborhoods.”

Splish, splash. I was taking a bath.

Only on a Saturday. The end of the week. We would be outside early evening playing hide and seek. A very large and old sycamore tree was home base. My older brother would count to three and we all would shout as loud and fast as we could, “not-it!” Whoever was the last or slowestContinue reading “Splish, splash. I was taking a bath.”

Oh sure, it’s just a roller coaster.

It’s only a roller coaster. Before there was a Disneyland in Anaheim and before Magic Mountain was created in Southern California, there was “The Pike” in Long Beach at the water’s edge. A place most often visited by restless and sometimes rowdy sailors from the nearby Long Beach Navy station. An amusement park suited forContinue reading “Oh sure, it’s just a roller coaster.”

Fuzzy yellow baby chicks.

So do you remember those Easter egg hunts? Finding plastic eggs with little toy fuzzy yellow chickies inside? However, my personal favorite was a chocolate Easter egg. But speaking of fuzzy chickies, back when my family lived in East Los Angeles in the early 1950’s had a back yard full of Rhode Island Reds. AContinue reading “Fuzzy yellow baby chicks.”

Book Report.

Book Report. Author of this memoir was born near Baltimore not far from Washington, DC. He co-authored with Bob Woodward the bestseller ‘All the President’s Men.’ This autobiography starts off with sixteen-year-old Carl Bernstein armed with the suggestion from his father, a local union leader that had encouraged Carl to apply for a reporter’s job.Continue reading “Book Report.”

My star on the walk of fame?

My season in Hollywood. My cousin Don lived on Cherokee Avenue in an apartment just off Hollywood Boulevard. He was a postal worker at the Hollywood branch of the Post Office. At that time, I was in high school. Some weekends I would take the bus from my home in East L A to theContinue reading “My star on the walk of fame?”

Come on into my studio.

How to record music. Back in the early 1980s and up in to the mid-1990s I owned and operated a recording studio. Recording all sort of virtuosos, song writers, small bands, big bands, country, Bluegrass, gospel, rock and you name it bands. I recorded harps and harpsichords. Choirs and even one woman laughing. I recordedContinue reading “Come on into my studio.”

It was like having cows in our front yard.

The dairy came to us. The chilled paper carton I picked up from the dairy case read 2% MILK. Homogenized Fortified with vitamin-D. All printed on a half-gallon paper carton with a plastic screw off pouring spout. As I held it in my left hand, I couldn’t help but remember Johnny the milkman. A neatlyContinue reading “It was like having cows in our front yard.”