My kids don’t believe me. I had walked two miles or more one way each day to and back from school. Starting in kindergarten and still walked everyday all the way through my senior year in high school. Rain, sleet, ice storms, snow, Wild fire, earthquake, barking dogs, panhandlers, and cracked sidewalks. All walking throughContinue reading “I’m walking, yes indeed I’m Walking.”
Tag Archives: EastLA
Don’t let the children and widows hear this.
posted by Chuck Ayers Voices coming from above. Our weekends went something like this. Saturday early evening we kids would be near the big sycamore tree and home base in front of our house and out on the parkway between the sidewalk and curb by the street. My older brother would say when I countContinue reading “Don’t let the children and widows hear this.”
Grapes of Wrath? Not here.
Before the sun peaked over the horizon, Carl would be up and crossing the road with two 2-gallon buckets. He was headed for the school house across the county road where he filled each bucket with fresh well water from the hand pump. Then carry Ing both buckets full he slowly started back to hisContinue reading “Grapes of Wrath? Not here.”
A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.
Okie Poetry This sure am not Hollywood Nineteen forty-one was the year Carl, Sr. and his bashful bride Left the parched and dry farm. They arrived in the coast to the west with two Toddlers in tow. Carl, Jr. and Peggy Sue. The four of them fresh off The Route some called 66. One man’sContinue reading “A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.”
It was easy money. One bottle at a time.
Los Angeles 1952: The start-up. We were partners in a recycling business. And when I say we I mean my partner Donnie Shorts. My new best friend who moved here to our neighborhood from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. What we did discover early on was that we both needed money. Money is what would enable and fundContinue reading “It was easy money. One bottle at a time.”
He could perform supernatural magic with his three red feathered chickens.
Butchy the chicken whisperer He doesn’t like to compare himself to Harry Potter but Butchy the chicken whisperer has magical mystical powers over his following of chickens. Three in all. All Rhode Island Reds named Manny, Moe, and Jack. A trio of cluckers who think they have special divining powers to find buried treasures. AfterContinue reading “He could perform supernatural magic with his three red feathered chickens.”
What you have to do when your credentials fail you.
If you remember the last time we got together I mentioned to you I was a chicken whisperer. I chose this vocation because wearing cheap wire rim glasses disqualifies me to be what I really wanted to be. Roy Rogers. Roy Rogers does not wear glasses. I wear glasses. And yes, broke them three orContinue reading “What you have to do when your credentials fail you.”
Was it skating or dancing?
Thou Shall not dance. Especially with the opposite sex. Boys and girls were forbidden to dance with each other. At least this was the doctrinaire of our fundamentalist church. However, the first Monday evening of each month way back when we kids would go with an older couple in their twenties to Pasadena at theContinue reading “Was it skating or dancing?”
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.”
Butchy the Chicken Whisperer Final Chapter.
But Santa needs a chimney doesn’t he? It was simple to surmise there was a serious problem here. The problem was not only one of utility and movement up and down but access. Access as in a convenient entry and subsequent distribution of goods. And If I, an entry-level elementary student, could see this puzzlingContinue reading “Butchy the Chicken Whisperer Final Chapter.”
Chuck the Blogger Guy 