Chapter Thirty-Two: Life Comes A-Knockin'

While I was in the hospital I was visited by a couple of girls I had worked with at County Stationers. One was Marina, a shy girl who worked in the Announcements Department, and Kelly, one of the floor salespeople. We talked for a little while and just before they left Kelly gave me her phone number and said I should call her when I got out. Well! It wasn't every day that a good looking girl just told me to call, so a couple of days after I got home we went out on our first date. While we seemed to hit it off OK I could never quite read her expression. She always seemed vaguely amused by my loony ramblings, but I didn't know if this was endearing to her or just confusing. She seemed to be asking herself if she might not have jumped into the deep end too soon. We had a passable physical relationship, though again I never perceived real passion in it. We seemed to be two people in dating limbo, waiting for something better or more interesting to come along. As it happened, the "more interesting" part won out.

At Jaffe's Camera I worked with the two Pauls and a woman named Merle. Merle had two daughters, Maile and Lani. I had met Maile a few times and she was a kick, vivacious and ready to party. I thought about asking her out but two things stopped me: I was already dating Kelly steadily and I was a little scared by how "out there" Maile was. She seemed like a thrash metal band to my acoustic ensemble personality. But she was fun to talk to whenever she came around. Merle told me about her other daughter, Lani, and how she danced hula, collected pictures of sunsets and helped around the house. Sounded like a nice girl. Lani came to the lab one day to visit Merle and on first sight my heart was lost. There stood the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Dark eyes and hair, with a smile that glowed from across the room. When we were introduced I was barely able to speak, though I'm sure I got a few syllables out. Then I got back to my work, my face flushed and pulse going a mile a minute. Too young for a heart attack. Was this love? Then she was gone. Whew. Man, get me a glass of water.

I was hard at the job a few weeks later when Lani came by again. I was cleaning some film racks, always a sweaty, messy job. I was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing away at some stubborn stain when Lani skipped over to me smelling all of plumeria, hunkered down by me and said: "So, when are you going to ask me out?" Oh......my........God. What did she just say? I could picture little guys in engineer overalls in my brain screaming in panic while lights flashed, alarms rang, and smoke was pouring out of every cell. "Uh. Friday?"

"You're going to ask me out on Friday or you want to go out on Friday?"

"Out on Friday." (Doing great, big guy!)

"OK"

So we went out. Had a good time. I drove her home and was a perfect gentleman, kissing her hand as we parted. Didn't want to scare this one away. Over the next couple of weeks Lani brought dinner to me from time to time down at the lab and we'd sit and talk about our lives, dreams, ambitions. I had Christmas dinner at her house, meeting her Dad, Neal. I was getting to know her and with each visit I knew we had to be together some time. That time came near New Years. It had been raining hard for several hours and I was worried that old Bessie would stall out if I drove through any deep puddles on the way back to the Strand. Lani had brought me dinner and offered to give me a ride home. We got back to my place and sat with Joe in the living room drinking beer and talking. Finally Lani said she should be getting home and I walked her back to her car. She had parked across the street from me, on the East side of Lake Rossmore. Every rainy season brought the Mother of All Puddles to Rossmore Drive. It was nearly two feet deep in the middle and about 40 feet long at its biggest. My neighbor Mike had to put sand bags by his house to keep from being flooded. He had a rowboat he used to get over to the mailbox.

We stopped at Lani's car and turned to face each other. The sky was clearing and some stars were peeking out between fast-moving clouds. I looked down into Lani's face in the moonlight and we couldn't resist any longer. She threw her arms around me and we fell into a passionate kiss. I've been to a lot of great 4th of July celebrations but none ever compared to the fireworks in my head that night. We drew apart and I said to her: "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think I love you." My brain screamed back at me "That's it, I'm outta here!" She smiled and said "Thank you." Well, uh, you're welcome I'm sure. And she was gone.

I walked back to the apartment, right through the center of Lake Rossmore, but the wet didn't affect me at all. I was, no doubt about it, smacked-over-the-head-and-that's-all in love. I went back up to where Joe was sitting and he knew something was up.

"How's it going, man?"

"Ah, OK, yeah, OK."

"Nice girl."

"Oh yeah."

"You kiss her?"

Just a smile.

"Well all right. Ed's in love."

Indeed.

What Now, Smart Guy?

I had a date planned with Kelly for that weekend. Kelly...oh, shit. Well, that's just got to end, right? How? I had never dumped a girl in my life. There was no way I was going to start something with Lani and keep Kelly on the hook. So I did the honorable thing: I told her I was sick to buy some more time. Great idea! Why face the firing squad at 5:00 if you can put it off until 5:15? She could tell something wasn't right even on the phone. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No, no, it's OK. Wouldn't want you to get it."

"Is everything all right? You sound strange."

Yeah, I'm strange all right. But not all right, OK?

"I'll talk to you later, Kelly. Bye."

No use putting it off. I met her at a restaurant a few days later and she knew what was coming the moment she saw my face. I 'fessed up that I had met somebody else and it was over for her and me. She looked at me coldly for a few seconds and said: "You're making a big mistake."

"I hope not."

She got up and walked out, and a chapter in the book of my life ended. This new one was going to be a hell of a ride.

Thirty Three: Surprise!

Chapter Thirty-One: Livin' on the Beach

A Beach is a place where a man can feel He's the only soul in the world that's real...


The Strand

You know all those TV shows and movies that portray California beaches as cool places where surfers rides the waves, pretty girls walk in skimpy suits and the sunsets blow your mind? I'm here to tell you...it's all true. From the first day we plopped our stuff on the floor at 228 Rossmore Drive on Sliver Strand Beach I felt right at home. I had been living in the Golden State for less than three months and I was just getting acclimated to the weather and culture. A big thing: no humidity! The East Coast was always so humid, or cold, or hot & humid, or wet & humid. I would come home from work some evenings, step out of the car and take a huge lungful of sweet, salty ocean breeze. All my tension just melted away each time I did it. I could hear the waves crashing from my downstairs pad. The place was sort of a townhouse duplex and I had what would have been the master bedroom just inside the front door. Upstairs was the living room, kitchen and Joe & Ginger's room. We had a picture window that afforded a lovely view of the street and the hills above the Ventura and Oxnard area.

The neighbors were a motley collection of beach bums and lower income proles like Ginger, Joe and me. Seems funny now that we lived in relative comfort on the beach at such affordable rents. The local businesses were not much more than Mom & Pops type places. Three of them stand out:

Ray's Tacos

Ray operated this fantastic taco place that sold a full menu from his tiny bodega. He was the only employee and he knew everyone in the neighborhood. My fondest memory of his place was Friday evenings, after the workin' week was done. I would pick up a six pack and get one of Ray's Super Burritos. Eat one of those monsters (about $3 each) and you would be full until lunch the next day. I checked the local map and sadly, Ray's is gone. I think I might still have just a sliver of spicy chicken wedged back in a molar somewhere, though.

The Breakers

This was a biker bar, but I had no idea it was the first few times I went in. There was a sign out front that said "No Colors". How terribly racist! And they didn't even spell it right. Nothing but angry-looking guys sitting around drinking and playing pool. Now and then there would be live music that didn't sound like Steppenwolf, but not often enough. I told Joe about the sign and he explained that the bar didn't want bikers wearing their clan colors to avoid fights. Oh. Well, there were nothing but white guys there anyway so what was the difference?

The Corner Store

Beer. Milk. Bread. But mostly beer.

Beach Daze

I loved getting up in the morning and walking on the beach. The breeze through my hair, the sight of the Channel Islands off in the distance. I felt like I was living in a dream. Just after we moved in I did two things to make the place mine: I got two cats and planted a row of pot in the sandy little strip outside my door. Both nearly got us booted out and/or arrested. Our landlady came by just a day after I got my first cat and left a nasty note on the counter: "You have a CAT! This is a VIOLATION of your RENTAL AGREEMENT! Get rid of it or you will be EVICTED!". I stared at the note for a few minutes, anger rising in me like hot lava. That slimy old bag used a passkey and just waltzed right into our house while we were gone to "look around a bit". I stalked down to the rental office and tossed the note on her desk.


Faramir and Gandalf

"First of all, lady, I was just feeding a neighborhood stray, not keeping a cat." (Yeah, another lie...) "And secondly, what the hell were you doing entering our house without notice? It says right on the agreement that you will not enter and will respect our privacy. If I find out you've been in there again like that I'll call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing! Got it?"

"I didn't mean to....I was only....sputter...."

Didn't matter what she wanted to say. I was already gone. Righteous anger can be so very cool when you're also in the right. (Mostly)

I got home from work one afternoon and I was no sooner in the door than Joe told me he had to yank up all my pretty pot plants out back. Seems our neighbors had gotten busted by undercover cops that day and when one of them looked out their window he saw the tiny green sprouts waving in the breeze. One of the busted neighbors used his precious phone call to warn Joe. We never saw them again but it was a stand up thing to do.

I dated a nice girl I met while working at the stationery store. Her Dad was a doctor, which turned out to be fortuitous for me one night. I had gotten tired of humping stock at the place and decided on a change of work scenery. I answered an ad in the Ventura Gazette for a photo lab tech and got the job without much trouble. I was back in the "soup" again and feeling pretty good about it. The place was called Jaffe's Camera, and my job was to pick up film at the three locations, bring it back to the lab and process the stuff. The end result was a semi-finished order. Here was my routine:

Load up the lab car, an old Impala, with completed orders.
Drive like hell to the main store, the Buenaventura Mall store and the Esplanade store delivering and picking up.
Back to the lab.
Sort all film by size: 35mm, 126 Instamatic, 110 Instamatic and Special Orders
Rack up the film on plastic trays, putting a small numbered sticker on each one that was matched to one on the order bag.
Splice together like film sizes (in complete darkness) onto reels.
Feed the film into a processing machine for developing.
Collect the film and manually print each negative on an antique called a "Kodak 5S Printer".
Pull the printed paper out of the machine (in complete darkness) and feed it into a paper processor.
Stack up the processed paper rolls for inspection and packaging the next day.
Mix all chemistry needed to keep the levels up.
Sweep the floor.
Clean the machine racks.

I was a lucky guy. This was a shift-oriented job, not hourly. I was full time, and as long as I got all my tasks done well and completely I could leave and be paid for 8 hours. Of course when things went south that also meant I made no overtime. And things did go that way from time to time. Machines would break down, Christmas was a nightmare. One night I was wrapping up my shift and I noticed I was nearly out of gas. I had no cash and no other way to get home. What to do? I remembered that I had just filled the gas tank in the Impala that day, so there was mondo gas in that beast. I scrounged around in the lab until I found a 4-foot length of rubber hose. I backed my Ford up to the Impala, opened the two feeders and stuck the hose into the Beast. I remembered Greg Jorgensen telling me that the best way to siphon was to first blow a lungful of air into the feeder tank to create back pressure, then suck the gas out to get it flowing. I did so, hearing the Impala's tank creaking with the pressure. Then I sucked on the hose and gasoline came rushing out like a fire hose, gushing into my stomach and lungs. I staggered back, my vision blurry with the fumes, spitting out the residual fuel in my mouth. Oh, shit, what the hell have I done?

I made my way back into the lab and started drinking water. I thought I remembered that in case of gas poisoning you shouldn't puke, just dilute it. I cleaned up all the damning evidence and called the girl I'd been dating. She was confused about why I needed to talk to her Dad but after I explained he came on the line.

"Get to the hospital," he said. "Now."

With the tiny bit of gas I had gotten into my tank I drove to Ventura General and got checked in. I spent three days on a liquid diet and oxygen while the stuff worked it's way out of my system. While I was in the ER the guy in the cubicle next to me was freaking out on PCP, threatening to kill everyone in the place. Nice. Glad the cops and their shiny guns were there, too. On Day Two I sneaked down to the Visitor's Lounge and smoked a cigarette. My doctor walked by, then came back a moment later, motioning me to follow him back to my room. He put an X-Ray on the light box.

"See that little shadow there at the bottom of your left lung? That's where the gas fumes burned a spot. Consider it a chink in your armor. If you keep smoking, that little spot will get bigger and bigger until it kills you. End of story."

He strode out, leaving me to ponder my fate. I went home and life returned to normal. I still smoked, but every time I lit up I could "feel" the smoke going straight to that spot. Finally, on October 24, 1979, I stood at my bathroom mirror and watched myself smoke my very last cigarette. I put it in the toilet, flushed it away and never looked back. It was tough as hell but I thank that doctor for giving me the kick in the ass I needed.

Chapter 32: Torn Between Two Lovers, Feelin' Like a Fool....

Chapter Thirty - First Home in CA

I Hear That Train A Comin'

For the first few weeks I lived at Ginger's place in Oxnard with her and cousin Joe. I slept on a mattress out in the living room, doing my best not to hear them going at it nearly every night. Hey thanks guys, just what I need to remind me that I have no prospects at all around here! I shared the living room space with Ginger's cat, but she didn't count as female companionship. Except in this really weird dream I had one night. But that's for my therapist to help me with, not a tale for you gentle readers. Once again I reminded myself that looking for a J-O-B was my only priority. Within a week I lucked into a stock room gig with a place in Ventura called County Stationers. It was deadly dull work mostly, checking in stationery shipments and stocking up shelves. I had a couple of other slacker types with me and we also did odd jobs like replacing light bulbs and sweeping floors. I was just happy to be living in a place like this! The warm ocean breeze blew right in through the loading dock and there was a diner just steps away that sold....biscuits and gravy! For cheap! I ate there often, right up until the day I found a curly black hair in the gravy. Oh, man.

One day we were toiling away when I spotted a young kid walking by carrying a small harp. I stopped him and asked if it was his and if so, could he play for us? He smiled and placed the harp on the ground, then launched into a beautifully energetic dance tune that had the whole stock crew jumping around the place like maniacs. He finished a waved a shy farewell.

I also learned how to eat a tamale properly. One of the guys' Mom made them for sale and I bought a few for lunch one day. It tasted OK but man, was it hard to chew! All stringy and tough. Then I noticed the other guys laughing and trying not to spit out all their own food.

"Ed, man, you're supposed to unroll them and eat only the filling."

Silly me.

I had noticed a weird clacking noise coming from under old Bessie so I took her into the gas station where a buddy of Joe's worked. Guy named Greg Jorgensen came out, all grease and smelling of cigs and asked me: "You drove this all the way from Virginia?"

"Yeah, in three days!"

"Well man, you got two busted U-joints. I'm surprised you made it past the state line!"

Luck o' the Irish...

Our apartment was in a bad section of town, right next to a set of railroad tracks. Trains came by a couple of times a day and the whole place would shudder. This white trash couple lived nearby and we always heard them arguing. One Saturday morning the three of us were having breakfast and somebody started pounding on the door. We let her in and it was the female half of the McTrashersons.

"Help me, please! He says he's gonna kill me!"

So we call the cops. The big dumb jerk is pounding on every door looking for her. The bored police officers listen to her, listen to him, haul him off. They ask will she be pressing charges, she says no he loves me I just know it. He can't help himself. Nice neighborhood.

Now comes Fourth of July and a chance to get in some partying! We hung out with the Jorgensens and some other friends until late into the evening. When we got home there was a surprise waiting for us: We done been robbed.

Jethro Helped

After calling the cops and giving him the list of stolen stuff we sat around our much more Spartan apartment. I had lost a nice Yamaha guitar and my junky electric guitar. They took our crappy silverware, the TV, the stereo and all the linens. The toaster oven. I mean, you couldn't get $2 for that old piece of crap! They pretty much grabbed anything that looked shiny or sellable at a garage sale. We were pretty depressed. Then I remembered. My cash! I had put it in a jeans pocket in the laundry heap because I read that that was a good place to keep it in case of a robbery. I checked and yes! There it was, $400 in beautiful cash. So it wasn't a total loss. But we were so pissed.

Next day I was standing out by my car after coming home from work when I saw the big dumbass that the cops hauled away walking out of his place.

"Hey, Jethro, (might as well be his name), you see anything funny yesterday over here? Some guys taking stuff out of our apartment?"

"No, just your friends that was helpin' you move. Had a bobtail truck. Two Meskin fellers with tats on both arms. They was havin' a hard time gettin' some stuff in so I helped 'em load up. You movin' today?"


I stood there with my jaw on the floor.

"Uh, we aren't moving. They were stealing our stuff! Could you describe them to the police?"

"Shit, no, man. I don't talk to pigs. You call 'em and I'll just say I didn't see nothin'."

He shambled back into his lair and I went into our place, stunned.

"Guys, we need to get the hell out of here."

We spent the next couple of weeks looking at places before finding the perfect spot, right on the beach. A cozy, sandy, funky little community known as Silver Strand.

Not just Chapter 31, but a whole new taste experience!