That Is The Way Things Roll …

California and the Bay Area. I am sitting here in the quiet tranquil morning time, drifting off, and thinking back to the “Good Ole Days” one of the luxuries of life I can still afford. Stirring up the dust, blowing the cobwebs out of my brain … Turn right and head on down Harder Road or up to Mission Blvd, maybe to the Plunge, how does that sound?  Maybe walk the long trail to the back of the park, check out the hollow dark cavities of my mind …

Sitting out front of Dad’s house, on his redwood fence, smoking a Marlboro, the cool breeze coming in off the bay, carrying the smell of tomato’s from the Hunt Cannery on B Street.

Saturday’s (and sometimes in the middle of the week, don’t tell Mrs. Ormsby) on the beach in Santa Cruz, the surf pounding, a gull swoops down to steal a potato chip off the blanket. An ice cold bottle of wine at the end of the string, buried in the sand.

A teenage girls’ husky laugh in the dark in the balcony of the Hayward downtown.  Two slow dances with Marylnn Matteson-Stith at the La Vista Cafeteria on Friday night.  Squatted, Indian fashion, on a boulder in the Sierra Nevada’s just outside Lake Tahoe.  A sky full of white wispy clouds and dragon flies.

A stolen kiss at the Grove after a Lancer’s Football game.

The smell of fresh cut Alfalfa wafting into the cab of the pickup in the valley outside of Manteca.  12 years old, sitting on top of the Hayward Hills, looking west to San Francisco, and seeing the city clearly, along with the Bay Bridge. Remembering back then, how it used to be, not like it is now, with the myriads of people and the pollution.

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Sitting in the shade of a lofty majestic pine beside a deep hole in the Truckee River.  Hooking a big fish on a trip to Clear Lake.  Sleeping on a blanket on the grass in Golden Gate Park.  Working as a pool hand at the old swimming pool at Tennyson one summer.

Back in the day, back in the day.
Need to wrap this up, I am getting carried away.

Time to go, I have rambled on for long enough. Having sufficiently increased my word-count, I shall now retire, only to fight again, on another day. Back to the real world … I have rats to kill … checks to pay …

Life, what happens when you are not looking.

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2 thoughts on “That Is The Way Things Roll …

  1. Memories are priceless. Sometimes better than the event itself.

    They have got me through some tough times, and also given me hope for a better tomorrow. I am nostalgic and I make no bones about it. I want the good stuff.

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  2. Lots of memories being dredged up over the ol’ Hayward Plunge recently on the high school alumni site. That “scary” high diving board being the most talked about. I had commented that the thing I remember most was the over-powering smell of chlorine.

    You ‘n I growing up in the same area of the “left coast”, the things that you’ve written here certainly does bring back the good ol’ days; ‘specially “cruising” back ‘n forth on East 14th !!!

    A lot of stuff went down there, inside and outside. I imagine it would be a scary place these days, if it is still there? I never did the high dive at the Plunge and you are right about the chlorine, really powerful as I remember it.

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