BOO!

A long time ago – close to 60 years, I’d guess – someone at the ConocoPhillips oil refinery in Wilmington, California, (a small neighbor of my home town of Long Beach) looked at its squat 3-million gallon storage tank and saw the possibility of turning it into the world’s biggest Jack-O-Lantern. The idea was embraced by management and after being touched by more than 100 gallons of paint the change was completed. From a nondescript tank to a giant pumpkin --- voila!

There is no online record of who deserves the honor of having had this wonderful vision- but from that time on, every Halloween the storage tank has been turned into this wonderful display. Especially nice is the happy face, which means that every little kid in the area can be driven by this refinery and not scared half out of their wits by a fierce face! My own kids, all born in Long Beach, couldn’t wait for each Halloween to come, not only because of Trick-or-Treating (which was totally safe in those days) but also because they knew there was a giant pumpkin just waiting to smile on them when their dad and I made our annual trek over to Wilmington.

The Jack-O-Lantern is still there, smiling, all these many years later. I don’t know if ConocoPhillips still owns the refinery, but it sure pleases me that this tradition is still being carried on and that new generations of kiddies can have the kind of pleasure that my own did.

Have fun, my friends, and make it a safe day.

WHAT'S BETTER? THEN OR NOW!

Those of you who grew up in the LA area should recognize the statues above as old residents of the La Brea tar pits – old in that the statues have resided at the La Brea tar pits for many years, and old as they represent REALLY old animals that roamed around the area eons ago. The lion statues were sculpted by Herman Beck in 1935 and have been at the tar pits since then.

However, they didn’t always sit in such a lovely setting.
I think I was probably 10 when I saw them for the first time. My folks took my sister Ginnie Lou and I up to Los Angeles for the day and the La Brea tar pits were on our agenda. This would have been about 1945.

There was no fancy museum there then. It was like a big park, with fences around the actual tar pits themselves and statues placed strategically around them, representing various types of prehistoric animals, not all of which were found in the tar pits. I took lots of pictures, but only one ended up in my scrapbook – one of my mother and sister at one of the statues


Then in 1948 when I was in 7th grade our Girl Scout leader took us on the first of many trips we made into Los Angeles from our home town of Long Beach. We girls were fascinated by the tar pits; it was a teeny bit scary to us, wondering if we were going to be consumed by tar like the prehistoric animals were, even though they were fenced off. The tar was still bubbling and warm, and it smelled just like the tar we had seen in Long Beach wherever a new roof was being put on a house. And again, I was the one who was running around taking pictures of all my friends as we clambered up and down on the statues.

This first picture below is my friend Dokey nestled in the arms of a huge bear. And the picture below that is taken with the whole troop, excluding me of course, and our scout leader, Frances Allen, on those very same Herman Beck lions that today still are an integral part of the tar pits…the same lions that are shown at the beginning of this blog.




I’d guess the last time our scout troop went to the tar pits was around 1950. Junior and Senior High School, college or work, marriages, babies and adult life probably kept most of us from even giving a passing thought to those tar pits. In my adult years I went to Los Angeles a lot, but never returned to them. Actually, I was even unaware that a museum had been built on the premises until about 1995 when I had occasion to be in the area and decided to take a quick peek at my old stomping ground.

Imagine my surprise to find the tar pits of my memory gone! In its place (after some 50 years) was a spiffy new museum, a tiny display of actual tar pits, and most of the statues that I remembered not even visible from where I stood. I did not make a tour of the area, so I am sure there was more than I saw at that quick peek, but as with many other remembered things, how things change!

The LA Times this morning had a nice article and photo about the La Brea tar pits. I found it interesting but there was no emotional attachment to it….until I saw the picture of the lions, which drove me back to my old scrapbook and from that came a desire to show you the “then” and “now.” And like all old people would say, “Well, it was better then!”

RIGHT & WRONG

Although I don’t specifically remember, I am sure it was my mother who taught me to tie my shoelaces. And furthermore, I can’t say for sure that the way I ended up doing it is exactly the way she taught me, but so be it. However, I recently learned I was doing it wrong!

You ladies know that in our childhood once we got to the point where we stopped wearing sturdy shoes, except maybe for tennies and later for Nikes, we didn’t wear shoes that tied. At least that was my experience, so all these many years I have been tying them wrong. It just never occurred to me that there could be a right and a wrong way to tie shoes. The fact that the bow on my shoelaces never laid neatly across my instep was not even in my awareness, until recently.

I saw a video online where a man was demonstrating the right way to tie shoe laces. First he showed the wrong way: the loop was made with the right lace, the left lace was brought over on top and around the loop, tucked under and pulled through to the left and tightened. That was the way my mother taught me (I supposed) and the way I had always done it. This man in no uncertain terms said that was wrong, that the left lace was to be brought UNDER the loop, tucked under and pulled through and tightened. He tied them both ways on the video and in that moment I saw what I had been doing wrong. I tried it on my own shoes – and sure enuf! The man's was right. His way produced bows that went across the instep; my way produced "up and down" bows. WRONG!!!!

Since then, I’ve been tying my shoes correctly except when I forget – which is what happened this morning and which is why I took a picture of my own shoes to show the difference. I put my right shoe on first and forgot to tie it the right way. The second shoe was tied the correct way – and there you are. The difference is clear and is proof positive.

I tell you this so you will at least know as much as I know. I HATE being wrong.

Having said that, I must add that just this week I told Jerry that these shoes, which are relatively new, are not at all comfortable. When I bought them the price was SO right that I couldn’t pass them up. But that was the last time I was pleased with them. They really never felt good on my feet. He thought I meant they were too small, but although they carried a "9" on them, my normal size, it felt like I was wearing two sizes too big. My mother would have called them “gunboats” – her word for oversized shoes. Looking at this picture, I can see for sure they don’t fit right. Not only have I been tying my shoes wrong but I’m also wearing the wrong size.

So that calls for immediate action. As I said, I HATE to be wrong. I must rectify that wrong and go shoe-shopping ASAP.

Now as for the dramatically colored shoe laces, I say, why not? They bring a smile to my face!

RIGHT AND WRONG

Although I don’t specifically remember, I am sure it was my mother who taught me to tie my shoelaces. And furthermore, I can’t say for sure that the way I ended up doing it is exactly the way she taught me, but so be it. However, I recently learned I was doing it wrong!

You ladies know that in our childhood once we got to the point where we stopped wearing sturdy shoes, except maybe for tennies and later for Nikes, we didn’t wear shoes that tied. At least that was my experience, so all these many years I have been tying them wrong. It just never occurred to me that there could be a right and a wrong way to tie shoes. The fact that the bow on my shoelaces never laid neatly across my instep was not even in my awareness, until recently.

I saw a video online where a man was demonstrating the right way to tie shoe laces. First he showed the wrong way: the loop was made with the right lace, the left lace was brought over on top and around the loop, tucked under and pulled through to the left and tightened. That was the way my mother taught me (I supposed) and the way I had always done it. This man in no uncertain terms said that was wrong, that the left lace was to be brought UNDER the loop, tucked under and pulled through and tightened. He tied them both ways on the video and in that moment I saw what I had been doing wrong. I tried it on my own shoes – and sure enuf! The man's was right. His way produced bows that went across the instep; my way produced "up and down" bows. WRONG!!!!

Since then, I’ve been tying my shoes correctly except when I forget – which is what happened this morning and which is why I took a picture of my own shoes to show the difference. I put my right shoe on first and forgot to tie it the right way. The second shoe was tied the correct way – and there you are. The difference is clear and is proof positive.

I tell you this so you will at least know as much as I know. I HATE being wrong.

Having said that, I must add that just this week I told Jerry that these shoes, which are relatively new, are not at all comfortable. When I bought them the price was SO right that I couldn’t pass them up. But that was the last time I was pleased with them. They really ever felt good on my feet. He thought I meant they were too small, but although they carried a "9" on them, my normal size, it felt like I was wearing two sizes too big. My mother would have called them “gunboats” – her word for oversized shoes. Looking at this picture, I can see for sure they don’t fit right. Not only have I been tying my shoes wrong but I’m also wearing the wrong size.

So that calls for immediate action. As I said, I HATE to be wrong. I must rectify that wrong and go shoe-shopping ASAP.

Now as for the dramatically colored shoe laces, I say, why not? They bring a smile to my face!

MORE ART OR JUST GRAFFITI?

Those of you who are regular readers will remember that back in July the city of LA decided the art work on this fence was a mural and had to disappear post haste. The lady who commissioned this piece of art for her own fence from some local young high school artists was fined for utting up a mural and had the possibility of a more hefty fine being levied if it wasn't removed immediately. In Los Angeles, an ordinance says that murals on the vast majority of private properties is illegal. And in this case, there were people who saw this art not as a mural but as "graffiti" - and furthermore, it was on an outside wall where the public would have to see it day and night. It had to come down, LA said.

Many people weighed in on both sides of the issue, aside from the legal ramifications -- you know, it was kind of an "art is in the eye of the beholder" issue. And there are almost as many issues as there are artists -- and who decides when graffiti leaves the category of "tagging" and moves over into "art?" Can street art or street murals avoid the association with "graffiti? Is just any flat place suitable for someone's mural? Who decides? What if the property owner approves of a mural being painted on his building? And just what is the difference between the art on billboards and the art on building walls? There are lots of issues to be thought about.

Los Angeles has take its mural ban under review. But what if a building owner ok's a mural on his wall? Los Angeles has always had murals, some really beautiful, some darn interesting, and most illicit. Can we now allow them, even if people don't see eye to eye on their beauty (or lack thereof?)

I think we are blessed with art like Shepard Fairey's, and I wish I didn't have to drive all the way in to LA to see it. Just feast your eyes on his "Peace Goddess" artwork:


But there also is some that I just think is awful and amateurish.

So the City of LA is now going to re-think this art form. In this morning's LA Times City Councilman Bill Rosendahl is quoted as saying:

"We want to define murals as something other than signs and create a process for permitting murals. There is a difference between a sign and a mural. One is marketing and one is art."

It is unspecified if they are going to tackle finding the dividing line between graffiti and murals. One has to wonder where this is all going to end.

SHAGGY DOGS & OTHER NONSENSE

A duck walked up to the bar and said, "I'll have a beer!" The bartender replied "Do you want it on your bill?"

YUK, YUK, YUK

A termite walked up to the bar and said, "Where's the bartender?"

ANOTHER COUPLE OF YUKS!

Would'ja believe that the good fairy kept a tooth belonging to John Lennon and is auctioning it off in England this coming November? It's expected to bring about $16,000. This is according to online Rolling Stone.

AND FINALLY...



The new date for movement is this: from Quarry to staging area at Granite Hill and Pyrite - Monday, Oct 24; on the road - Tuesday, Oct. 25.

Do you believe it? I'm not holding my breath.

TOYS FOR BIG PEOPLE!

I'm sure we've all read about how residents of some nursing homes enjoy having therapy dogs come for visits; other homes have a friendly resident cat who often takes naps on the patient's bed. The little fellow pictured above is a Japanese-developed robotic "baby harp seal," designed to interact with humans at an emotional level. Who could pass up such a cute face?

The elderly have serious needs that often go unmet, says Maja Mataric, co-director of the USC Robotics Research Lab. "Robots aren't a panacea, but if they help people, if they can make their lives better, then what's wrong with that?" according to a recent article in the LA Times.

I'm all for this. I remember my own mother who had to give up her toy poodle when she moved into an apartment. One day she saw a little stuffed toy poodle that looked like her "Cheri" and promptly bought it for herself. It lived with her the rest of her life.

Now first of all I want you to understand that I don't consider myself "elderly." I may be 76, yet I don't think of myself as elderly. I may be getting old, but elderly will always be about 10 years older than my present age.

But I have a confession to make. I do have a few stuffed animals!

The first is my computer pig. I don't have any clue as to where this pig came from. It's been around for at least 11 years, so I'd guess at some point one of my grandkids dropped it off here when the mom brought him or her for a visit.


For a long time I had it sitting up on top my old computer monitor, thinking its owner would claim it, but no one did. I thought it was a cute pig, so it stayed with me. No, I don't play with it.


In 2004 I was making arrangements for the final disposition of my body when I died and the company I was dealing with had a couple of these Monkeys sitting around their office. I figured it was a PR tool and I asked if I could have one. It was the wording on the tee-shirt that caught my eye - "Aaron Cremation and Burial Services." NO ONE has a monkey with such a tee-shirt, I figured! And I was so pleased when the owner took my money and put a monkey in my hand!


Many years ago my mother bought my sister Ginnie Lou and me the book "Raggedy Ann and Andy and the Camel with the Wrinkled Knees." Oh how we loved that book, but like most other of our toys we eventually outgrew it. A few years ago I found two copies of that book and bought one for each of us. Ginnie Lou returned the favor by finding and sending me a wrinkled-kneed Camel, so I added that to my now-obvious "collection" of stuffed animals.


The Serta sheep and I have a long partnership. I have watched them jump over the fence more nights than I'd like to remember, and when I saw this fellow in line with my birth year on his back, I knew he had to be added to the rest of my animals.

One of my dreams had always been to go to North Carolina and walk on the Outer Banks. Jerry and I have been many places, including quite a few foreign countries, but North Carolina somehow never made it to the top of the list. So when my cousin Shirlee moved there and invited me for a visit, I couldn't pass the trip up. The red cardinals are ubiquitous around her house, and my purchase of this reminder of that wonderful time and place still gives me pleasure each time I look at it. The cost of the bird was a donation to the Audubon society.


I never intended to have a collection of stuffed animals. And I certainly don't want any more (although the minute I started to write that I thought of how a cute baby harp seal - non-robotic, of course - would look up on the shelf with the others!) Ah well, I don't need any more stuffed animals. Those I have sit happily on the shelf above my computer, along with a stuffed cat that I made some years ago -- I didn't like the way it turned out, but I thought its face was so cute I just had to keep it myself.

So now you know my secret. I DO have a few stuffed animals of my own. But PLEASE don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want anyone to think I truly was getting elderly and needed stuffed animals to caress.

BIG NEWS! BIG NEWS!

Our local newspaper has a bit of trouble figuring out what is local news. Sometimes it's a report on a poll taken in our State Capitol. Local news might be city politics from the county seat of an adjacent county. Sometimes it's a new report from the Office on Aging. Our newspaper under its Local News section uses a different page for each of five areas of our county, but for some reason none of the pages seem very interesting to me.

That's a lot of space to fill and if the newspaper doesn't have enough ads or enough items to fill every page, they simply replicate what the TV talking heads do -- just blather away with extraneous words that may or may not be of some import.

Now I myself keep waiting for our local newspaper to talk about "The ROCK" - but I'm thinking that perhaps they see that story as being of interest only after the rock's move is over and done with. But it's their newspaper and their decision, so I let it be.

But I did have to laugh at one of the "In Brief" articles in our local section this week. Seems that there is a solar energy project going on in the desert of northeastern San Bernardino County (hundreds of miles from our local area) and this project ran into a snag because the area is the home of a whole lot of desert tortoises. And these tortoises were in danger of being accidentally killed, or if not killed at least accidentally harassed if they remained in the area. The solution was to remove them and relocate them to a safer area.

Federal biologists recently captured several hundred tortoises and have been keeping them in captivity until they can be resettled into another area. I like tortoises and I thought this was a nice thing to do, since I also like Solar energy projects.

But here's what our local news section reported this week: One lady tortoise had to be released into the wild early "because it kept trying to escape captivity and appeared to be under stress. She has since explored the release area...and spent her nights in an underground burrow."

Look at that picture above. Do you see the smile on the face of the lady turtle? And then, can you see the smile on my face for reading such interesting and exciting local news?

REPLACEMENT PARTS

One of the things that has surprised me about retirement is how many things have needed replacing during this period in our life. I’m not talking about my body here, because it’s understood it will gradually wither, but we thought we went into retirement pretty well set up as far as decent and suitable furniture, clothing, autos, electronics and so forth. In fact, in 1998 when some of the furniture we bought for our house in Orange many years earlier needed replacing, I looked at Jerry and said, “Jer, if you want to go into retirement with a good recliner, now’s the time to get it…the recliner of your dreams.”

He did, and that particular recliner started getting heavy use when we retired for good in 2000. Luckily it had been Lazy Boy’s best, and it served him well. He got a good 13 years of use out of it, but when springs began breaking recently and caused him to sit in a sump and left him with a backache, it was time to get a new one.

The need to replace his chair was very surprising to Jerry. Lazy Boy’s best was going to last him the rest of his life, he thought. And when he found his favorite old recliner heading for the dump, he got mighty discouraged.

Jer really thought he wasn’t going to live much beyond the age of 70 or 72. He thought our cars would outlast him (a 1989 Olds and a 1988 Mazda). I had my doubts if they would last for 25 years, but Jerry’s folks always got 25 years out of their cars, and Jer planned on same. So when those two cars fell apart 2 years after we retired (and when I say “fell apart” I mean stopped in the middle of the freeway and never ran another day!) he realized our retirement budget just wasn’t set with the idea of replacement cars in mind. And the furniture was the same way.

Periodically in these last few years we’ve had to replace things that shouldn’t have come to the end of their life cycle so soon. Other than the cars and the recliner, most of the other stuff has been –- on the major side, computers, printers, scanners, cell phones and a digital camera -- and on the minor side it has been things like toasters, coffee pots, room fans, and telephones. All of these come with a built-in obsolescence, so we are just at the mercy of the manufacturers. You’d expect a coffeepot to last longer than 18 months, and we’d like to think we could get one repaired, but repair costs more than a replacement, so there you are.

Now I admit to choosing to replace some of my cooking equipment. I probably could have finished out my life with what I had, but when we were living in our house doing lots of entertaining I had good kitchen stuff, and it has lasted as only a set of Le Creuset pots and pans could. The catch is I most often cooked for 8 or 10 people and I had BIG pots and pans. Now I’m cooking on a tiny 4 burner apartment-sized range, and one frying pan takes up the whole top of the stove. I finally have started replacing the good stuff with some off-the-rack pots and pans that suit a meal for 2.

I haven’t yet given away the food processor or the blender, but to be honest with you I can’t use them because there is no counter space to speak of. At any rate, I think it's about time for them to give up the ghost, too. and replacement would be foolish.

The big surprise in retirement is that so many things would need replacing. But we are truly lucky nothing but “house things” have had to be replaced; and like the reclining chair, everything has been “do-able.” And I must say our children have often surprised us with things they themselves sensed we should have. We’ve had wonderful gifts at birthdays and holidays that have helped us along.

Jerry and I still have most of our own body parts, though our eyes, ears and teeth seem a bit rickety. But so far all replacements have been for house “things” - no knees, heart valves, lungs, etc. For that we are most grateful.

I’m sure other things will bite the dust before long, although we do have one replacement scheduled for the near future. It’s a Security screen door. We have what I call an “el cheepo” on there now, and it is good enough to keep out the flies but not to provide the kind of security we’d feel more comfortable with – a screen door you couldn’t tear off the hinges with a swift kick!

Assuming the new coffee pot doesn’t fall apart in the next month or so, I think we’ll pop for a new screen door and call it our Christmas present to ourselves. Isn’t that the way we often justify an outlay of our hard-earned money? Works for me!

HA HA HA - A BOOK FULL OF LAUGHS

This has to be the funniest book I've ever read.

But having said that, I didn't laugh out loud at all, nor did I even smile. What I did do was to keep saying to myself, "Oh No!" or "This is SO funny" or "Hysterical!"

The Elephant's Journey was written by Jose Saramago and first published in Portugal in 2008. It was translated from Portuguese into English by Margaret Jull Costa and published in 2010. I didn't learn about it until about a week ago and I knew after reading a short review that I would like the book.

It's a novel based on a true story about an elephant who was given as a wedding present to Archduke Maximilian of Austria by his cousin, Portugal King Joao III in 1551. Setting out from Portugal is an entourage of dignitaries, cavalry troops, quartermaster and his wagon, oxen pulling a cart that contained the elephant's food and his water trough, and an assortment of helpers of one sort or another. They make their way through Spain, cities of northern Italy: Genoa, Piacenza, Mantua, Verona, Venice, and Trento, where the Council of Trent is in session. They brave the Alps and the terrifying Isarco and Brenner Passes; they sail across the Mediterranean Sea and up the Inn River (elephants, it turns out, are natural sailors). At last they make their grand entry into the imperial city. There's a laugh on every page.

As if a funny story wasn't enough, the author tells the story almost without using punctuation marks, which although at first it is a bit difficult to read, ends up as what storytelling is all about - the flow of words, ideas, language, happenings and heart.

I am not sure which of the characters is the funniest - the King, the Archduke, the elephant, the mahout, the secretaries, translators, soldiers, or the commanding officers. Even the Priest and the village Mayor are in the running, as are the oxen! This is storytelling at its best. The scenes are marvelous, full of wit and wisdom, hilarity and humility. The elephant, who starts out his trip with the name "Solomon" becomes "Suleiman" and his keeper, an Indian named Subhro is ordered to become "Fritz" - better names, according to the Archduke.

I nosed around the Internet to learn a little more about Saramago, and in several places it seemed that because he was a Communist, some reviewers were hard-pressed to grant this story a super-good review. However, in Saramago's lifetime (he died in 2010) he won the Nobel Prize for Literature, so he must have something good in his pencil.

I think this probably is one of those books that some people just aren't crazy about. But for me, any book that can make me laugh from beginning to end is right up there with the best.

MACHINES & MESSES

A couple of weeks ago all the residents in our apartment complex were notified that a new Cable company would be taking over providing our large complex with Cable TV. We also learned that this would require replacing the underground wires. At the risk of sounding somewhat jaded, our reaction was pretty much "I'll believe it when I see it."

So imagine our surprise when one morning last week we began hearing trucks and other equipment parking in front of our unit. It wasn't just one truck, it was LOTS of trucks - some with equipment, some with rolls of wire, and some full of workers carrying shovels who were going to do the grunt work.

In the picture above, if you look carefully you can see the carport on the other side of the street where we park our cars. The notice we received didn't say we would need to move our cars elsewhere if we intended to use them, but as truck after truck arrived, it sure seemed that our cars might actually be blocked in.

If there was one good thing about what was going on, aside from the fact that it appeared this was a "for real" event, we had a beautiful day that day. The sky was the color of a swimming pool, there were some white puffy clouds above and not a trace of smog, haze or coastal eddy, the latter being a familiar happening in our area. It was a perfect California day.

The best part of the day came when a "DitchWitch" was moved to the end of our building. For the world it looks like its design was based on some kind of a live critter. Jerry was far less captivated than I was; his working career was around the construction of buildings, so he headed over to the DitchWitch to renew his acquaintance. I grabbed the camera, because I DO like machines, and this one was so interesting.



On the front of this DitchWitch was a boring tool that for the world made it look like some kind of bug with a proboscis probing around. Whatever the workers needed to do, they did in good time and the machine moved on to the next building.

In our complex there are 98 buildings, each containing 13 or 14 individual apartments. There are a number of crews working on this project, but even so I'm sure it's going to be a while before it is finished. I also am sure that when the job is done and the cable company sends around its brochure announcing the new lineup and the various options we will have, mark my words the costs will have gone up considerably from what we are paying now.

Luckily we are not big TV watchers, so we always sign up for just the basic plan. Our last basic plan was fairly reasonable, but I think to punish those who didn't want to sink all their entertainment budget in cable TV, they removed CNN from the lineup. Well, there's not much left the new cable company can remove, so I suspect we'll just be charged an arm and a leg to get the broadcast channels through cable. Next step down is rabbit ears!

Anyway, the streets are back to normal now, the machines are elsewhere and we can get in and out of the carport without fear. So goes life in retirement. Sometimes even a machine is an occasion!

THIS ROCK'S NOT ROLLIN'

You might have missed seeing the picture above in a previous blog; this 340 ton boulder presently is in a quarry close to our house, and it's waiting to make a long-awaited trip to Los Angeles, where it will become the centerpiece of a new artistic installation at the LA County Museum of Art where the old La Brea tar pits used to be.

Now it was originally scheduled to arrive at the Museum in August, but lo, it still sits awaiting at the quarry. One of the latest reports gives an overview of what is to happen:

To make it happen, Emmert International, "a company that specializes in moving 'extreme objects' like nuclear generators and missiles," is building this transporter (in Renzo Piano red!) around the boulder. A road will be carved out of the quarry, and the transporter will move at night, on closed roads, with a police escort, at under 10 mph. Some utility lines and stop lights will have to come down for a short time as the boulder passes by. As you can probably imagine, the permitting for this has been a nightmare, involving the state, three counties, and all the local municipalities.

If you do a search on the internet, you can see that things are not going smoothly or quickly. The latest posting I could find is that the rock was scheduled to leave on October 3, but more difficulties have popped up and it is still sitting at rest.

According to one of the earlier reports that was a little more specific about its travel route, it appeared that it was going to be taken out of the quarry and hauled on a road that parallels the 60 freeway. Jerry and I have been guessing as to where that road might be. There is a road that parallels the freeway on the north side from the quarry to Country Village Road. That road is called Granite Hill. There also is a road that parallels it on the south side called Ben Nevis, and at Country Village Road another one continues, with a little jog, as San Sevaine. Or there is always old Mission Boulevard that used to take people from Riverside in to Pomona, and it loosely parallels the 60 freeway. Jer and I took a drive up to the quarry on October 3 to see what, if anything, was going on, and we shook our heads. That rock, which will stand 2 stories high on its transporter, which is 200 feet long, has to somehow get under or over the 60 freeway, then over or under the 15 Freeway. The engineers know which of the overpasses can hold something of that weight, and which of the underpasses can take something 2 stories high. We can't figure out where that could possibly be.

I am bound and determined to be watching when that huge boulder travels past Country Village Road, for we live very, very close to there. I will be there, even if it is the middle of the night, camera at the ready!



The entire operation will be done at night, because roads have to be closed, utility wires have to be removed and replaced, cars rerouted, etc. It's going to take an army of people to accomplish this, and the movers estimate they can make 7 miles per night, which means a trip of about 10 nights.

No one locally is very excited about this big happening, or at least not excited enough to write newspaper articles about the big move. We have feelers out to personally keep us up to date on the REAL moving date. Right now the word is, "We don't know yet!"

Will the underpasses be high enough? Will the bridges be strong enough? Is it possible the transporter might have a flat tire (there are to be 200 of them) somewhere along the road. Will any corner be cut short and take out a stop light? And during the days, who all are going to stand guard over that baby?

There's lots to think about, but I'm not going to get grey hair over worrying about it. At 7 miles per night, once it gets on the road we'll find it, 'cause it's not going anywhere fast.

Can you imagine how much money this is costing? It just boggles my mind.

SCHOOLS-AT-WAR SCRAPBOOKS

In moving some files around, trying to make room for more files, I came upon some of my school papers dating from 1943. Our school, Willard Elementary in Long Beach, California, periodically produced a mimeographed newspaper called "Junior Press." Articles were written in each classroom by individual kids, and some were chosen to appear in the newspaper. My mother saved many of these "newspapers" because quite often one of my little stories was in it. Mother had pasted the pages in her scrapbook -- and by the time I inherited her files these pages were really in poor condition. To keep them for "posterity" I made photocopies of the pages, from which the two pages below were scanned. (They will appear in larger format if you double-click on them.)


You can see that this first page has the newspaper banner on it: JUNIOR PRESS, Volume 4, No. 2 - Willard School, January 29, 1943. I was in second grade that year. I did have a story - 4 short sentences - in this volume about an airport our class created in the classroom. What I remember specifically about this course of study was that each student had to make an airplane out of a block of balsa wood. I remember the sanding, affixing the wings, and the silver painting. I had a little boyfriend named Jerry Lapposa and he helped me with my plane (a bomber, I think it was), while my little heart went "Pitty-pat!" I was in the 2B class.

A later issue of the newspaper dated April 6, 1943 and called "The Willard Press" had a page devoted to the school's war efforts. Again, mother saved it because of the story I wrote on the USO - but somewhat longer this time - 5 lines! But when I read this today I saw the first entry, the one at the top left, that indicated these articles went into a "Schools-at-War scrap book" which ultimately landed in Washington DC for an exhibit.



During those war years our school, like probably every other school in the county, had a victory garden, sold war bonds -- actually, sold the stamps to paste in a book until we accumulated $18.75 worth of stamps, which then was converted into a War Bond, collected scrap metal and learned about V-mail, the USO, and other things we needed to know for living in a country at war.

I've often thought of all the ways our education was impacted by WWII. Reading these old pages reminds me. But to be honest with you, reading that one little paragraph about the "Schools at War" scrapbook has certainly piqued my interesting. A cursory snoop with Google only turned up one reference to it. Since I have a hard time letting sleeping dogs lie (and sometimes think I am compelled to learn every single thing in the whole world before I die) I guess I've got another project to research! And I call that FUN!