Bad News

Going through old papers that belonged to my parents, I have been finding clippings, telegrams, old letters. Usually, these news bits are sent out to announce a death, or to prepare people for the inevitable. I figured I'd just put whatever I find in this category here on this post.






Dad died suddenly of a heart attack in 1971, at age 58. I remember the grown-ups' major production in finalizing this obituary for the San Diego Union newspaper. Notably absent in the list of survivors is my sister Susan's name. Mom and Susan and a terrible falling out and she had, I guess, been banished forever from the family. I don't think it was Dad who had the problem with Susan, and I don't think he would have minded having her name in his obit, after all, he did raise her as his own. But then, I arrived very late on the scene in this family and I'm sure I don't know the whole story.



An interesting look at how people were notified in the days before cell phones, emails, or scype (or however you spell it). This was a telegram sent to Mom, telling her that her Mom was near death. This happened 3 years before I came along. Mom told me that all her brothers were at their moms deathbed, and after lingering in a coma from kidney failure for days, Grandma Elsie suddenly opened up her eyes, said, "Oh Pa, you've come for me," reached out to her deceased husband, and then took her last breath and died with a smile on her face. So did grandma Elsie really see the spirit of her dead husband, the father of her nine children? We couldn't know. But there were four grown sons, one of them a reknown published Sociology professor from University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, witnessing her death. He had a sense of humor, but he didn't lie about stuff. So Something happened to help ease Grandma's transition. I personally think it was her husband.




This in turn in an answer to a letter Grandma Elsie wrote to announce the death of her own mom. I don't remember Mom ever saying what killed her. This letter writer was a good friend of Elsie from childhood. Kind of sad that she couldn't go to the funeral, but it sounds like she is taking care of her own sick mom. An interesting fact also, is that Elsie was pregnant for my Mom when this death occured. My Mom was born on Halloween, 1921, about 4 weeks after the death of "little Grandma Cynthia"

Halloween

view of downtown from shelter island

Train Ride to Mexico

Buellton, California

Every since I was a young teen, I was obsessed with Buellton California. Its a very long story as to how I came to be obsessed, and that will probably be the subject of a future book. The real quick version is this: For a 2 year period of time in the 1970s, Mom would throw my younger siblings and me in the car and we would head north on Highway 101 for a nice 8 hour drive. Just about every weekend. So, a little past Santa Barbara, I would start noticing roadside teases, inviting the driver to stop at Buellton for some hot Pea Soup at Pea Soup Andersen's. The signs were like the old Burma-shave ads. Those signs, with the big guy and the little guy, splitting peas, invited weary drivers to stop off at Buellton, and enjoy a bowl of famous split pea soup. I would always ask mom if we could stop and try the soup, and mom always said, "Maybe next time." Next time never came on those 1974-75 road trips.  But when we drove up to Cal Poly, I finally was able to stop and have my bowl of Andersen's Pea Soup. It took about 35 years, but it finally happened.  Patience is a virtue.

Santa Barbara, California

We drove up to Santa Barbara one day to meet Carl at the Train station. He was coming home from Cal Poly for Thanksgiving weekend and we met him halfway. His train was caught in traffic, so we had 30 minutes to walk around the area. So this is what we saw in the 4 block walk from the Amtrac Station.



This is a postcard I bought at this little wharf. Stearn's Wharf is a fairly short wooden wharf with some restaurants, shops, and a museum. We had just enough time to take a walk to see it.


The neighborhood is in transition. Some businesses have closed up and the buildings are vacant. In one vacated restaurant that once had a nice outdoor patio, I saw this big plaster head, sitting behind a padlocked gate. I don't know anything else about it. It was just weird enough for me to snap a photo of it.



The beach bums here are creative. They set up collection spots on the sand below the wharf. Its a great idea. I never put coins in a pan handlers cup if he's standing there holding it. But, if he's nowhere to be seen, and he has a little sign challenging you to hit the target with your coin, I'll fish out my change and toss them off the wharf down to the bullseye below, over and over again, until I hit it.


There were two coin toss set ups in the sand that day.



Halfway through our stroll, we spotted this plaque commemorating an awful fire that destroyed the wharf several years back.


It was too late to check the place out, but this looked like an interesting museum. I was intrigued by the name, Ty Warner. Is he the guy of the Ty Beanie Baby Craze?


Here is Jerome at the famous Dolphin sculpture at the entrance to the Stearns Wharf.



At the entrance to the candy store, they had a cage, and in the cage was a odd feathered thing. Its bowl was filled with taffy. A closer look revealed it was a Tasmanian Taffy Turkey. Never heard of the strange creature. But it didn't look like the kind of turkey you'd cook for Thanksgiving.