Chapter Thirty-Four: Weddin' Bells

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout...." J. Cash

With the tough task of telling the folks about our impending nuptials and parenthood, all that remained was to plan the wedding. We decided on April 19, 1980, mostly because we didn't want the wedding photos to make it too obvious that Lani was in the family way. I always thought that photos like that I saw at the lab were kind of sad. Something just short of a shotgun wedding.

Clever lad that I was, I decided to take on the task of ordering the announcements myself, just to take the burden off my bride to be. Yeah, I heard the groan from you there. "Oh, Ed, what were you thinking?" Indeed. I went to the stationery store I used to work at and spoke to the old lady that presided over the Special Events Stationery Department. She asked me where my fiancee was and I told her she was at work so I was doing this on my own. That got me the first rather pitying look. She showed me several patterns and fonts, envelopes and colors. It was all rather daunting but in the end I believed I came up with a very nice announcement. I told her how I would like it to read and spelled out our names and those of our parents. Then she asked me when the wedding was planned.

"April 19."

"All right, that gives us plenty of time. April 19, 1981."

"Uh, no. This year."

Another look, this one sharply suspicious. "This year?"

"Yes."

"Dear, that only gives you a few weeks to send out the invitations. They won't be ready for at least two weeks."

"OK." Clueless.

The rest of the transaction was cold and nearly silent. I walked out still not knowing quite what the problem was. Ah, youth.

I got home and told Lani and her Mom that the announcements were all taken care of. Cold stares. "What?" That's when I learned the lesson so many young men need to know well beforehand: It's her wedding, stupid. Never do anything without permission!"

Over the next six weeks we contacted all our friends and family to let them know, hoping many of them could come out to California for the wedding. I had to choose a Best Man, and I decided that my old buddy Bill Stewart should be at my side for this joyous occasion. Lani's friends were all coming out from Hawaii. Turns out that early pregnancies are not that uncommon in Hawaiian culture and don't have the same stigma as my more provincial East Coast upbringing had dictated. So all these wahines were usually ready to pack up and go off to another wedding at the drop of a hat.

A couple of days before the wedding Mom and Dad flew in to LAX late in the evening. I had just come home from work and had to drive down there to pick them up. While my adrenaline was pumping I was still pretty tired from work, so one of my beach buddies offered me some speed pills to keep me going. He handed me five tiny white pills and I popped them into my mouth without a second thought. Off to the airport!

About 30 minutes later I started feeling sick to my stomach. I had sharp pains and a really jittery rush was starting up in my body. I was worried that I would hurl at any moment but I kept it under control until we got to LAX. When we got to the terminal I raced into the bathroom and spewed the second I got to the toilet. There were thin strands of blood in it. Oh, shit, what have I done?

We met Mom and Dad and I hardly remember the ride back. I know I drank some milk and tried not to think I had seriously poisoned myself. Like the clever dude I was, I just ignored it and hoped it would go away. Through dumb luck, nothing more went wrong.

Then came the Day. Lani's friends had stayed up all night making beautiful leis for us and all the family members. They had gone around town buying up every single bouquet offered by the street corner vendors, and the results were incredible, as you can see. Bill and I went to a local hair place to get our style on and nothing was going to stop me from being on time for the wedding, including a red light or two.

The ceremony was beautiful, the weather warm and sunny. We were surrounded by family and friends and the food just kept coming. Good stuff. My buddy Chip Jorgensen was there along with cousin Joe and ourgroup of ne'er-do-well friends. They wrote crazy stuff all over my car and filled it with balloons. It was several days before I had a chance to clean it and the funniest thing was the day I had to drive around with my father-in-law Neal with "Just Married" all over it. Got some looks.

Lani and I went back to her folks' house ahead of the group and had some time to sort of decompress, getting used to the idea that we were now Husband and Wife. To me it was the logical extension of the great swell of emotion I felt any time I was in her presence. That feeling stayed with me always.

Because of work obligations and a general lack of funds we didn't have much of a honeymoon. We stayed one night at the Ventura Holiday Inn and went to Solvang the next day with my parents. It's a Norwegian-themed village in the Southland hills that tries to dig cash out of tourists like any kitchy place does. It was a miserably cold day and I got in a spat with Mom over some silly crap from my childhood. Then they were gone and it was back to work.

Our next Batter: #35, Peter Newbegin

Only a Hiatus

Dear Reader,

I am only taking a brief pause to get some photos scanned and home movies turned to digital. I will be back with more Tales of Ed when the work is complete. Y'all come back now, hear?

Chapter Thirty-Three: A Sharp Left Turn

Lani and I saw a lot of each other after my breakup with Kelly. I felt totally immersed in a warm, fuzzy blanket of sensation. But that little guy in the back of my head, that little punk that just couldn't let things be really just fine with me was whispering in my ear:

"She's way too good for you. You're a loser with no future. Give it time and she'll realize her mistake."

The worst thing was, I couldn't prove it wrong. But I had a lot of blind hope. And I just could not resist her charm. To my mind, she was as perfect a woman as I had ever met and I was going to enjoy the moment.

Lani worked at the local Bob's Big Boy as a hostess. I would slip away from my solo shift at the photo lab to go have coffee and pie and talk to her when it was slow. She was also going to travel agent school, and some of the other students had pitched in for a trip up to Mammoth Mountain for some skiing. Lani asked me to go along, and even though I had never stood on skis in my life, I agreed readily.

In the meantime she came over to the Strand to spend the weekend a few times, blending in pretty well with the domestic scene we had going. I was starting to feel like this could be a longer-term thing than I was used to.

One night I made sure everything was humming along OK at the lab and went up to Bob's for some dessert. Lani greeted me with a strange sort of expression. She took her break right away and came to sit across from me in a booth.

"I'm late." she said.

"Late...."

"My period. I missed the last one a few weeks ago and I think I'm going to see a doctor about it."

"Do you think you're...."

"I don't know."

Now here, ladies and gentlemen, is that moment one plays in his mind over and over, wondering what would have happened if he had said the next line just a bit earlier:

"You're not on the Pill?"

That's the one. So we lived in doubt for a while until she got the results back. See, back then there were no in-home tests, so we had to "be careful" when we went on the ski trip. We had a great time, and Mammoth Mountain had record snowfall. Here's a pic of Lani digging out the VW Bus we all rode up on.
It was also my 23rd birthday that weekend. I look back on it now, with two kids older than that and one nearly 19, Lani's age at the time, and all I can think is: way too young.

The day we went up the mountain I was scared shitless. I hadn't taken any lessons, knowing only that if I got in trouble I could "snowplow" the skis to stop. We went up the lift to the are called Gravity Chute, a double-diamond run. I barely survived getting off the lift and getting down to a flat area. Then it was down a single-diamond run to the lodge. Praise Mommy Nature for all the powder on the hill. It made those runs much easier. I snowplowed when I was going too fast at one point and the tips dug into the snow, catapulting me into the air and face-first into the white stuff. I stuck to the sides after that, making my way down to the lodge for hot chocolate, then booze. Back at the room we got a nice buzz on, (except Lani, who still Didn't Know), and went to the hot tub. It was the first one I'd ever seen, much less sat in. It was in the middle of all that snow and we took turns getting all heated up in the water and then rolling in the snow. That sucked every past ounce of energy out of me......almost.

We got back from the trip still feeling that thrill of early courtship, the issue of impending parenthood seeming more like an adventure than an awesome responsibility. Our discussion about it lasted all of five minutes. I told Lani that no matter what, I was very much in love with her and that I wanted to marry her. If she was pregnant we would get hitched soonest possible. I guess that's what passed for a proposal and to my surprise and great delight she said Yes. We were on our way into a truly exciting possibility. I felt like I could conquer the world.

The test came back bearing the news that changed our lives forever. We were in the family way. She called me at home to tell me the news. Joe had some people over, including a hell of a nice guy named Chip Jorgensen. I told them all and we decided to celebrate. Chip went with me to the Corner Store for beer. On the way back I asked for a drag off his cigarette. One puff and it nearly choked me to death. That was it for me and Death Sticks.

Now all I had to do was tell my parents and, oh by the way Ed could you tell Lani's folks as well? Sure. In for a penny in for a pounding, that's what I say. What a conversation I had with Mom! I paraphrase for the sake of humor:

"Hi Mom."

"Hello, Eddie, how are you?"

"Great, great. Say, remember that girl I told you about that I met a few weeks ago?"

"Who, Kelly? I thought you knew her longer than that."

"No, Ma. Lani."

"I don't think you mentioned her, no."

This ain't gonna be easy, man. Just let it happen!

"Well, yeah. I met her and I think I really love her. And I asked her to marry me. And she's pregnant."

"......................................................."

"Mom?"

"Oh, God."

See, Mom was only 43 and I think she might have considered herself a bit young to be a grandma. The rest of the conversation was mostly about the wedding. We wanted to be married on April 19 and it was already the end of February. Time to make those travel plans!

Now all I had to do was tell Merle and her husband, Neal. We arranged to go fishing down at the Ventura Marina one evening. I was standing next to Neal, poles dangling out over the water, the cold chill of fear running through my veins. Finally I turned to him:

"Neal, I want you to know that I love Lani very much. She's a very special person to me."

"I know what you mean, Ed, she's always been special to me, too."

"We want to get married."

"You two haven't known each other very long. Are you sure?"

"Neal, she's pregnant. I'm the father. The baby is due in October."

Merle overheard that last part and came over to us. She turned to Lani.

"You're going to have a baby?"

Lani nodded. We all looked at each other, then Neal gave Lani a hug and shook my hand. Merle was teary-eyed. Whatever I might have feared didn't come to pass and we started talking about the plans for April right away.

It was tough jumping over those first hurdles, but the really tough ones were dead ahead. As my guy John Irving likes to say: "Beware of the Undertoad."

Chapter 34: The Waiting Game

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!

Chapter Twenty-Nine - On the Road

My time coming, any day, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
Rainbows and down that highway where ocean breezes blow
My time coming, voices saying they tell me where to go.
Don't worry about me, nah nah nah, don't worry about me, no
And I'm in no hurry, nah nah nah, I know where to go.
California, preaching on the burning shore
California, Ill be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I'm gonna shine.

The Trip

Southbound on old 95 in the warm embrace of an early June night. Joe started off behind the wheel because he was the guy looking for the party in Norfolk when we just turned right and kept on going. Several hours down the road I double checked the map and it looked like we had missed our connection to I-40 West in Raleigh, NC. We got off the road and pulled into an all night grocery/gas station. There were three old coots sitting on the porch and we asked them how to get to where we needed to go. They took one look at we two long-hairs and cackled a bit to each other. Then one of the old farts said "Y'all gots to go North to git thar." Whew! And here we thought we were lost. We navigated through Raleigh in the wee hours and when we got on I-40 I got behind the wheel.

A few hours of driving along the unfamiliar highway took me into the dawn at the Tennessee border. I was approaching Douglas Lake, and the sight almost took my breath away. Patches of fog stuck to the hills, sunlight on the water and what looked like the whole country spread out and waiting for me. The image is still soft on my mind as a sign that I was doing the right thing. We were to find out that although Tennessee is only 30 miles wide, it is an incredible 451 miles long! It took all day to drive through. We wanted to get to California as quickly as we could, mostly so Joe could cuddle up to his girlfriend, Ginger. Reasonable, no? Along the way we passed within shouting distance of Pigeon Forge, a tiny burg that would become Dollywood in later years. And a place where at that very moment a young hula dancer was getting ready for her daily show.

Here we were, two guys rolling down the road without a care in the world and plenty of dope in the glove compartment. We drove and drove and drove, digging the scenery and goofing on each other. I had a foam 8-ball hanging from my rear view mirror and Joe liked to smack it now and then as a rim shot to his jokes. Once he took a swat while he was driving and yanked the wheel, causing us to fishtail a bit before getting back on the groove.

"Yeah, I can just see it now, bro'...'Well see, officer, my cousin thought his joke was pretty funny so he whacked the 8-ball and we lost control and that's why we're in this ditch. The dope? No, that's not ours. It must have been there already...'"

We cruised on, hitting the ball more cautiously.

Onward

Now we came to Mississippi, and across the mighty eponymous river. We rolled over a cantilever bridge and I saw the brown, churning water beneath, moving on to the sea. I was really doing this. The song kept coming back:

Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart...

What was I doing? Fucking crazy. Across Arkansas and into Oklahoma that same day, driving relentlessly and in a pot-induced fog. Finally that night we decided that stopping the car for a few hours of sleep was better than dying in a horrible wreck. We pulled into the lot of a Super 8 Motel in Oklahoma City with more gas in the tank than in ourselves. After a quick meal at the diner we checked out our room. What a true dive this place was. Both beds had several layers of thin comforters and sheets. We guessed that this saved the maids having to change them, as they could just strip off the old ones each day. The bathroom was an adventure in science, with mold on the walls, a huge hole in the ceiling and no glass in the window. But the real treat was the TV's. Plural. There was a big cabinet model on the bottom, then a mid-sized one on top of that, topped by a third, tiny set. The big one was just a stand, didn't work. The one in the middle had a halfway decent picture but no sound, and the one on top had sound but no picture. And none of them had tuning knobs. So we had to use the conveniently provided pair of pliers to change the picture set channels until we saw something interesting, then change the sound set until they matched. Since there were only four stations in town, that didn't take long. We ended up dozing off minutes after hitting the pillow.

Sunday morning broke and after freezing cold showers we were ready to roll. At the diner I had biscuits and gravy for the first time in my life. Oh my God! Where has this delicacy been all my life? Maybe it was just the constant hunger born of marijuana munchies but I was in love with this dish. As I sat sopping up every last drop of this ambrosia a scruffy looking fellow shambled into the place and sat next to me at the counter. The middle aged waitress came over and asked "What you want, hon?"

"Well, m'am, I'm passin' through on my way to my sister's place in Albequerque and I'm pretty low on cash. I just need a little somethin' to keep goin'"

She gave him a quick appraising look and said "I'll get you a short stack, darlin'. Want some juice with that?"

"Yes'm."

I thought about what I'd just seen. Was that guy going to be me in the next few months? I had about $500 in my pocket and no job and no place to stay for long. I resolved right there that I would not screw around like I had in Norfolk. Get a job and get on my feet pronto or end up begging for scraps. Never. Not ever.

What a Blowout!

Now I was the pilot, steering the big land boat across Oklahoma into Texas. We saw gas on sale there for 72 cents a gallon. Hell, milk cost more than that! Joe was dozing at one point as I was approaching a truck rest stop. I was flying along at 70 mph or so and a semi decided to pull onto the highway right in front of me. I locked up the brakes and we went into a full power skid. I held the wheel and got us straight again in time to get around the semi and avoid becoming roadkill. Joe woke up and said "Wuzzat? 'Tsappenin'?"

"It's cool, man. We didn't die and that's real good."

Not far down the road the effects of that skid came back to haunt us. One of my back tires blew out and I guided old Bessie to the shoulder. Joe and I got out and inspected the damage.

"You have a spare?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Never had to use it."

The air was hot and still, not a thing moving for miles around us in the desert wasteland.

"Pretty quiet out here."

"Yeah........too quiet."

The trunk was packed with all our junk so we had to pull it all out to find the tire. I fished it out of the trunk and bounced it on the road, checking it's inflation pressure. We were overjoyed to find that the spare was good and we had tire changing tools available, except for a lug wrench. Looking up the road we saw we had really lucked out. There was a rest stop not more than 100 yards ahead of us, so we could get the tool we needed and change the tire in safety in the parking lot. That's when Joe came up with the Brilliant Plan.

"OK. Let's put all the stuff back in the trunk. Then I'll drive the car to the rest stop and you bring the tire."

"Cool."

We packed it up, he took off and I started rolling the tire along the shoulder in the 150 degree heat. Cars were whipping by, nearly knocking me into the ditch. By the time I got to the rest stop I was dripping with sweat and covered in road grime. Joe had secured a lug wrench from a friendly fellow traveler and was waiting for me.

"Man, why the hell did I have to do that? It's a fucking oven out here and I'm rolling a goddamn tire by the side of the road! Why didn't we both go in the car?"

Joe shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." True. Should I quit smoking pot? Why? What a stupid thing to think about.

Gettin' There

Our tire troubles behind us, we sailed on into the Southwest. Each mile we traveled brought sights and smells I had never experienced. The mesas of New Mexico and Arizona passed in the distance. Albuquerque had always just been a funny name in a geography book. Now we were speeding through town in an ever more desperate rush to get to California. Weird thing: We didn't see a single cop the whole trip. I know that would have made things more interesting but getting busted in such a remote place was not my idea of fun.

I saw the exit signs for towns I'd heard of in song. Tehachapi, Tucumcari, Tonapah, Winslow and so many others. This trip was turning into a blur of roadside attractions and gas station stops. World's Biggest Steak, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, The Friggin' Grand Canyon. But were we going to any of those places? Hell, no! It was California or Bust for these freak brothers. Finally, at about 3AM Pacific Standard Time on June 18, 1979, the old Ford rolled into a gas station in Needles, CA. That Grateful Dead tune was humming away in my head as I pumped the 99 cents per gallon gas, the most I'd ever paid for fuel. A warm desert breeze wafted over me and I had the sensation of being on another planet. I told Joe that I would take the wheel and we cruised into the Mojave.



Sunrise was beautiful in the desert. I watched as each passing minute revealed more of the alien landscape, from the soft blue light of early dawn all the way to full, scorching daylight. Cacti right by the side of the road! Little desert critters scuttling for shelter. A buzzard making lazy circles in the air. Heat shimmering off the road like a mirror from the sky. Little flashing lights and the inner redness of my eyelids.....oops! Time to pull over and let Joe drive. I was dead asleep in seconds. Joe piloted us the rest of the way into Ventura. I occasionally raised my head to see where we were but it all looked like a set from The Rockford Files. I noticed after a while that we were cruising much slower, but the lack of quality sleep on the trip was getting to me. The Ford had a horn ring on the steering wheel that was vibrating in a most annoying way. So annoying, in fact, that I wanted to yank the wheel out of Joe's grip and send us plummeting down a cliff. Sleep at last! Just as I was about to implement my plan, the car stopped. We were there.


Part 30: Livin' on the Wrong Side of the Tracks