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!