Where have you gone Maria Gambrelli?
Am I the only person who remembers minute little details about certain times in their life? I hardly think so. And I hardly think that I am the only person who wishes sometimes they could purge their memories of these things, kind of like emptying the cache on a p.c., or reformatting the hard drive. Of course, anyone who knows anything about computers knows that reformatting the hard drive also deletes all files...and yes, I would still do it (to my mind) even with that consequence. I believe I am running out of space...the processor is slowing down because of that.
For example, I can still vividly remember to this day what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957, the day before Thanksgiving. Maybe not everything I ate that day, but one item in particular. It was Rye Crisp crackers with big chunks of Velveeta cheese cut from one of those giant slabs you buy in a box. I’m not real sure that I even really liked Rye Crisp...but I know I liked Velveeta, I was seven years old at the time and I gorged myself on those crackers and cheese. That November day in 1957 my family was moving into our brand new house in Canoga Park, California...right at the extreme western end of the San Fernando Valley. In fact, it was so far west that our back fence was literally the L.A. County line for a number of years. There were no other houses west of us for about five years...unless you count Thousand Oaks, but that was maybe 15 miles away. It was all fields of alfalfa, orange groves, bunny rabbits, lizards, and dirt.
I remember moving into our new house on Melba Avenue and eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta on November 24th, 1957. I think my parents paid about $15,000 for that house...a three bedroom, two bath modern tract home with built in appliances, a two car garage, and a sliding glass door leading to a big old cement patio slab and yard. That back fence that was the L.A. County line was made of redwood, my parents stained it deeper red soon after we got situated. They also had a swimming pool built shortly thereafter, in the shape of a “B”...for Betty, my mom’s name. It had a diving board and a black and red decorative cement deck. Considering I was only seven years old (the oldest of three kids), they put up a chain link fence to separate the pool from the house. We had the cement patio covered with a white and blue aluminum patio cover and grew some grass in what was left of the yard after the pool was dug. A few years later my dad put together a custom-made cabana in the corner of the pool yard. A cabana complete with real palm tree frawns and carved tiki heads. My dad and I traveled a few miles up into the hills where we had seen some large, old palm trees while shooting my beebee gun, that’s where the palm frawns and tiki head material came from. Metal-framed chaise lounges with brightly colored pads lined the deck area near the cabana, my mom really enjoyed laying out by the pool and getting a tan. She used to get very tan in the summer, so did my sisters. Afterall, we were living in Southern California...the San Fernando Valley. There was also a redwood picnic table and a BBQ.
I remember my parents having pool parties out there. We still have 8mm film of these get- togethers by the pool. Silent, grainy films showing young adults, still in their late twenties, dancing and swimming and drinking and smoking cigarettes. They would make faces at my dad holding the Kodak 8mm movie camera, then grab someone elses wife and starting slow dancing across the deck. There were always a lot of young children as well, babies in basinet-looking contraptions too. And there always seemed to be at least one shot of one of us kids dancing with one of the parents...standing on their feet. Then, they would throw us in the pool. We didn’t mind getting thrown in the pool...we loved to go swimming. Unless we got thrown in the pool on top another swimming child. At which point all the fun and frivolity would come to a screeching halt for a few minutes while the screaming, injured child was fished out of the water, coddled a bit, attended to, then released again to jump back in the pool and pick up where they left off. The parents grabbed another beer or mixed a few more drinks and the party went on...T-Bones, hamburgers, and hot dogs sizzling on the grill. Potato salad, chips and dip, and pitchers of Kool-Aid displayed on the brightly colored, plastic table-cloth covered picnic table.
Those days are long gone. I’ve long since lost most, if not all, of my wild-eyed idealism, innocence, and hope. The ambitions I had in my younger days have evaporated into thin air...poof! Where I once possessed only the slightest bit of confidence now resides an empty pit of broken dreams and despair. Failed marriages, businesses, and wanna-be careers have taken their toll. I’m tired.
There is a glimmer left in me though from time to time...but not often. The advice I received when I was a child (and as an adult) to “snap out of it” just doesn’t provide relief any longer from this negativity.
Everything in my life that could be considered less than optimal is totally and completely my own doing...I know that. There is no one to blame but myself. And because there is no one to blame or turn to, it is totally and completely up to me to turn this ride around.
Life used to be a lot more fun when we were young. I can’t tell you what I had to eat two days ago...and I can’t remember when the last time I had a truly fun, unencumbered, worry-free day. When did I last have a restful, full night’s, sleep...who knows? I do remember though what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957! And I do remember how I use to feel on the way to Disneyland. And I do remember the elation I felt while driving a car for the first time at 16 years old...or when Christmas was just around the corner...or going fishing...or eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta in our brand new house. And I do remember what Thanksgiving was like.
We always seemed to have relatives over. Most often, it would be my Mom's sisters from San Diego...maybe a cousin or three. Betty got up early to put the turkey in the oven, I could always smell it cooking by the time I woke up. She made the best gravy and mashed potatoes. Turkey (white meat exclusively for me back then), mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn. That was pretty much all I had on my plate. It wasn't until later in life did I learn to enjoy the stuffing, green bean casserole, salads, and...the 7 and 7's! My dad insisted every year that there was a small bowl of creamed pearl onions on the table...his favorite. Early on Thanksgiving Day, my Dad would make dips and chips and other snacks. Green onion dip and Fritos was my favorite. Dad would also make clam dip on occasion. That dip and the pearl onions didn't move very fast...I think he planned it that way...no one else ate them!
We would have dinner relatively early, 2:00 or so. The reasoning behind eating early? So we could have "seconds" or turkey sandwiches later in the afternoon of course...after laying around on the couch watching football or a replay of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. That evening, the Hollywood Christmas parade took place...we would watch that as well.
There are many memories from long ago that make me nostalgic for that simpler time. But they are just that...memories. I guess I will always have that.
And, I will always have the future...as long as I am around on this earth. There are things happening in my life now that I probably should have started years ago...but at least they are happening now. There are many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving too. We all must remind ourselves of what those things are on a daily basis, not just on this Thursday near the end of November. I'll save that long list of mine for another blog...another time.
Where have you gone Maria Gambrelli? You’re still right here...inside me. And that is where you will always be.
For example, I can still vividly remember to this day what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957, the day before Thanksgiving. Maybe not everything I ate that day, but one item in particular. It was Rye Crisp crackers with big chunks of Velveeta cheese cut from one of those giant slabs you buy in a box. I’m not real sure that I even really liked Rye Crisp...but I know I liked Velveeta, I was seven years old at the time and I gorged myself on those crackers and cheese. That November day in 1957 my family was moving into our brand new house in Canoga Park, California...right at the extreme western end of the San Fernando Valley. In fact, it was so far west that our back fence was literally the L.A. County line for a number of years. There were no other houses west of us for about five years...unless you count Thousand Oaks, but that was maybe 15 miles away. It was all fields of alfalfa, orange groves, bunny rabbits, lizards, and dirt.
I remember moving into our new house on Melba Avenue and eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta on November 24th, 1957. I think my parents paid about $15,000 for that house...a three bedroom, two bath modern tract home with built in appliances, a two car garage, and a sliding glass door leading to a big old cement patio slab and yard. That back fence that was the L.A. County line was made of redwood, my parents stained it deeper red soon after we got situated. They also had a swimming pool built shortly thereafter, in the shape of a “B”...for Betty, my mom’s name. It had a diving board and a black and red decorative cement deck. Considering I was only seven years old (the oldest of three kids), they put up a chain link fence to separate the pool from the house. We had the cement patio covered with a white and blue aluminum patio cover and grew some grass in what was left of the yard after the pool was dug. A few years later my dad put together a custom-made cabana in the corner of the pool yard. A cabana complete with real palm tree frawns and carved tiki heads. My dad and I traveled a few miles up into the hills where we had seen some large, old palm trees while shooting my beebee gun, that’s where the palm frawns and tiki head material came from. Metal-framed chaise lounges with brightly colored pads lined the deck area near the cabana, my mom really enjoyed laying out by the pool and getting a tan. She used to get very tan in the summer, so did my sisters. Afterall, we were living in Southern California...the San Fernando Valley. There was also a redwood picnic table and a BBQ.
I remember my parents having pool parties out there. We still have 8mm film of these get- togethers by the pool. Silent, grainy films showing young adults, still in their late twenties, dancing and swimming and drinking and smoking cigarettes. They would make faces at my dad holding the Kodak 8mm movie camera, then grab someone elses wife and starting slow dancing across the deck. There were always a lot of young children as well, babies in basinet-looking contraptions too. And there always seemed to be at least one shot of one of us kids dancing with one of the parents...standing on their feet. Then, they would throw us in the pool. We didn’t mind getting thrown in the pool...we loved to go swimming. Unless we got thrown in the pool on top another swimming child. At which point all the fun and frivolity would come to a screeching halt for a few minutes while the screaming, injured child was fished out of the water, coddled a bit, attended to, then released again to jump back in the pool and pick up where they left off. The parents grabbed another beer or mixed a few more drinks and the party went on...T-Bones, hamburgers, and hot dogs sizzling on the grill. Potato salad, chips and dip, and pitchers of Kool-Aid displayed on the brightly colored, plastic table-cloth covered picnic table.
Those days are long gone. I’ve long since lost most, if not all, of my wild-eyed idealism, innocence, and hope. The ambitions I had in my younger days have evaporated into thin air...poof! Where I once possessed only the slightest bit of confidence now resides an empty pit of broken dreams and despair. Failed marriages, businesses, and wanna-be careers have taken their toll. I’m tired.
There is a glimmer left in me though from time to time...but not often. The advice I received when I was a child (and as an adult) to “snap out of it” just doesn’t provide relief any longer from this negativity.
Everything in my life that could be considered less than optimal is totally and completely my own doing...I know that. There is no one to blame but myself. And because there is no one to blame or turn to, it is totally and completely up to me to turn this ride around.
Life used to be a lot more fun when we were young. I can’t tell you what I had to eat two days ago...and I can’t remember when the last time I had a truly fun, unencumbered, worry-free day. When did I last have a restful, full night’s, sleep...who knows? I do remember though what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957! And I do remember how I use to feel on the way to Disneyland. And I do remember the elation I felt while driving a car for the first time at 16 years old...or when Christmas was just around the corner...or going fishing...or eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta in our brand new house. And I do remember what Thanksgiving was like.
We always seemed to have relatives over. Most often, it would be my Mom's sisters from San Diego...maybe a cousin or three. Betty got up early to put the turkey in the oven, I could always smell it cooking by the time I woke up. She made the best gravy and mashed potatoes. Turkey (white meat exclusively for me back then), mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn. That was pretty much all I had on my plate. It wasn't until later in life did I learn to enjoy the stuffing, green bean casserole, salads, and...the 7 and 7's! My dad insisted every year that there was a small bowl of creamed pearl onions on the table...his favorite. Early on Thanksgiving Day, my Dad would make dips and chips and other snacks. Green onion dip and Fritos was my favorite. Dad would also make clam dip on occasion. That dip and the pearl onions didn't move very fast...I think he planned it that way...no one else ate them!
We would have dinner relatively early, 2:00 or so. The reasoning behind eating early? So we could have "seconds" or turkey sandwiches later in the afternoon of course...after laying around on the couch watching football or a replay of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. That evening, the Hollywood Christmas parade took place...we would watch that as well.
There are many memories from long ago that make me nostalgic for that simpler time. But they are just that...memories. I guess I will always have that.
And, I will always have the future...as long as I am around on this earth. There are things happening in my life now that I probably should have started years ago...but at least they are happening now. There are many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving too. We all must remind ourselves of what those things are on a daily basis, not just on this Thursday near the end of November. I'll save that long list of mine for another blog...another time.
Where have you gone Maria Gambrelli? You’re still right here...inside me. And that is where you will always be.
posted by James | 6:36 PM
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