I'm hungry. Seems that thoughts of food from my childhood start to filter through my brain more and more these days. Now back when I was a kid, Los Banos didn't have too many restaurant options. Oh, I suppose there were more than I thought, as places like Carlo's, and Espana's weren't places we went to. I know I was the reason. I went through a spell where all I'd eat would be hamburgers. Following that was Eddie's spaghetti, you get the idea.
Now Eddie's was one place we went to *a lot* and I loved it!! The decor was plain, the food not fancy, but boy was it good! The hot beef sandwich was something I started to really enjoy as a young teen but before that, it would be 10 raviolis, not 9, not 11, but 10 with just parmesan cheese. That was my obsession when I was around seven. As I aged out of that, I leaned more towards the ravs *with* sauce and cheese. What an institution Eddie's was.
Another favorite of mine was The Woolgrowers. Talk about a different dining experience! First of all, one arrived at the restaurant by walking past the bar first. (Let me just say that here, in Utah, they would NOT let that happen! Alcohol here is hidden behind the Zion curtain, whatever the heck that is). Okay, back to the Woolgrowers. The meals were served family style. There weren't the small individual tables that most restaurants had or have. They had several long tables and once your party arrived, the hostess would escort you to one of the tables where you'd proceed to sit. There were no menus, as the wait staff would tell you the entrees of the day. Lamb was always an option and if you were a smart diner, you'd go with the lamb dish as Woolgrowers was a Basque restaurant.
All you had to do as the diner was wait for the massive amounts of food to arrive: These items varied over the years but expect several salads, a green salad, a macaroni salad, a potato salad, then French bread, a tureen of soup, then plates of vegetables and lamb stew, followed by the entree. There was the ever-present bottle of wine on the table, just placed there, never requested by the diner. The dinner ended with a cup of ice cream and a cup of coffee. It's been decades since I've eaten there and I honestly have no idea if the restaurant is still there. I know Eddie's isn't, as the original Eddie passed away many years ago.
Another favorite of mine was Ming's Chinese Restaurant. Boy was that place popular! Sadly it closed down a few years ago and I'm sure that closing has left a huge gap in the community.
This hasn't helped. I'm still hungry.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Sunday, January 24, 2016
It's almost snow, isn't it?
Fog. That's something the San Joaquin Valley is famous for. As a kid, I always wanted to live where it snowed. Little did I know that besides making snowmen and having snowball fights, there was the down-side to snow: shoveling, driving in it, the ice sheets, frozen pipes, just to name a few. The next best thing was the ever encasing winter fog! It was kind of cool to walk to school in it, as by the time I would get there, my hair would have icicles on it. I sorta liked that.
Driving in the fog was a whole different animal. Fast-forwarding here to my teen age years there was one time that for some reason my dad didn't have the company truck and it was up to me to take him to work. He worked at Holt Brothers Caterpillar Tractor on the highway, about two or three miles from town. He was something else, my dad. He directed me to get into the fast lane on the freeway and at some point where all I could see was white and I couldn't see the hood ornament on the car) he said to start signaling and slowing down.
He then directed me to turn onto the turnout that divided the highway at that point. He watched the traffic from the opposite direction and then said 'go, now' and I started heading back towards town but I knew that the store was just ahead and he knew EXACTLY where it was so I'm in the slow lane signaling for a right turn. I got him safely there and it's obvious I made it home safe, but was it ever a white knuckle drive.
Driving in the fog was a whole different animal. Fast-forwarding here to my teen age years there was one time that for some reason my dad didn't have the company truck and it was up to me to take him to work. He worked at Holt Brothers Caterpillar Tractor on the highway, about two or three miles from town. He was something else, my dad. He directed me to get into the fast lane on the freeway and at some point where all I could see was white and I couldn't see the hood ornament on the car) he said to start signaling and slowing down.
He then directed me to turn onto the turnout that divided the highway at that point. He watched the traffic from the opposite direction and then said 'go, now' and I started heading back towards town but I knew that the store was just ahead and he knew EXACTLY where it was so I'm in the slow lane signaling for a right turn. I got him safely there and it's obvious I made it home safe, but was it ever a white knuckle drive.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Little Snowfall in the Big Valley
Not sure of the year it happened but boy was it something else! Until that little snowfall that we woke up to that Sunday morning, the only snow I had seen were the remains of what had fallen in the Colorado Rockies a few years before.
I remember waking up that morning, looking out the window and saw snow on the ground! In Los Banos of all places! This was call for a celebration! I then ran into my parents bedroom and shouted, 'It snowed last night! Look!!!' My poor dad, he was sick with the flu and pretty much told me to bug off, that it was frost on the lawn, something quite common in LB.
I would not take that for an answer and insisted he get up and look out the window. By the time they both got up, it was agreed upon that yes, it was indeed snow. (Now fast forward to NOW and it doesn't entice me quite as much as I no longer live in that insular valley but in the Utah mountains where snow is needed for the snowpack that it provides, but it is not fun to remove or drive in, 'nuff said.)
Within the hour shouts could be heard throughout the neighborhood and phones started to ring. All us kids were out there playing in the snow as happy as little wet clams. None of us had the right gear, wool gloves, boots, etc. but we made up for that with enthusiasm and played until it was time to go to church. After getting home, off with the dress and Mary-Jane's and on with the aforementioned 'snow clothing'. The Arbelbide kids, Jeanne and Martin came over and we built one helluva snowman. He probably topped off at three feet! We were so proud of our masterpiece that my mother took a photo of us and him. Sadly I cannot find that photo. I have pretty much torn this house apart for the past two days looking for it. I can 'see' the photo in my mind's eye but that doesn't work on on paper, so to speak. Just believe me that there was a photo.
Now, back to staring at the blowing snow outside right now.
I remember waking up that morning, looking out the window and saw snow on the ground! In Los Banos of all places! This was call for a celebration! I then ran into my parents bedroom and shouted, 'It snowed last night! Look!!!' My poor dad, he was sick with the flu and pretty much told me to bug off, that it was frost on the lawn, something quite common in LB.
I would not take that for an answer and insisted he get up and look out the window. By the time they both got up, it was agreed upon that yes, it was indeed snow. (Now fast forward to NOW and it doesn't entice me quite as much as I no longer live in that insular valley but in the Utah mountains where snow is needed for the snowpack that it provides, but it is not fun to remove or drive in, 'nuff said.)
Within the hour shouts could be heard throughout the neighborhood and phones started to ring. All us kids were out there playing in the snow as happy as little wet clams. None of us had the right gear, wool gloves, boots, etc. but we made up for that with enthusiasm and played until it was time to go to church. After getting home, off with the dress and Mary-Jane's and on with the aforementioned 'snow clothing'. The Arbelbide kids, Jeanne and Martin came over and we built one helluva snowman. He probably topped off at three feet! We were so proud of our masterpiece that my mother took a photo of us and him. Sadly I cannot find that photo. I have pretty much torn this house apart for the past two days looking for it. I can 'see' the photo in my mind's eye but that doesn't work on on paper, so to speak. Just believe me that there was a photo.
Now, back to staring at the blowing snow outside right now.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Walking to school, all business, walking home, not so much
I guess I was a pretty lucky kid. I lived within walking distance of my elementary school, junior high and high school. Although by the time I was of driving age, walking to school was so uncool although my mom did let me take the car to school once, the last day of my senior year.
The elementary school I went to was about 5 blocks north of our house. The walking to school part was all business, the walking home was another story altogether. I would often walk part of the way home with my friend Judy or my friend Annette. They would peel off way before I did though and I'd often take my time. There was this one house a few blocks from the school that had the most enchanted yard! They even had a tortoise in there that I remember visiting with the Brownie Troop I was in. They had all sorts of fruit trees too, loquats and pomegranates. They hung over the sidewalk as as my earlier blog posts have mentioned, I wasn't shy about 'picking flowers' so why would I be shy about picking fruit? The hard part was explaining the mess on my clothing, hands and face as pomegranates aren't easy to break into.
Many years after this, when I was in college, someone purchased that property from the wonderful lady who had the tortoise and the awesome garden. It was built into a modern home, that while walking through it (did I mention that I also wasn't shy about walking into half-finished building projects?) that I thoroughly approved of. What I didn't approve of was that the trees, and I also imagine the tortoise, were long gone.
When I was in the 5th grade they decided to tear down the elementary school and build a new one but that took time. At that point, we walked to that location to take a bus to another school that was probably a mile or two away. That time waiting for the bus was put to good use. We'd have our lunch money with us and we'd use a portion of that to go to Nick's Shoe Shine in town and check out his candy supply. Bringing home a pack of Ugly Cards or crumpled up candy wrappers did not make my mother happy one bit but I think what she disliked the most was when a bunch of us decided to not bother with the bus and we walked form LBE to Miano Elementary instead. Boy, did I hear all about that when I got home that day.
Now what I need to do is get my butt in gear and locate those old pics from the day.
The elementary school I went to was about 5 blocks north of our house. The walking to school part was all business, the walking home was another story altogether. I would often walk part of the way home with my friend Judy or my friend Annette. They would peel off way before I did though and I'd often take my time. There was this one house a few blocks from the school that had the most enchanted yard! They even had a tortoise in there that I remember visiting with the Brownie Troop I was in. They had all sorts of fruit trees too, loquats and pomegranates. They hung over the sidewalk as as my earlier blog posts have mentioned, I wasn't shy about 'picking flowers' so why would I be shy about picking fruit? The hard part was explaining the mess on my clothing, hands and face as pomegranates aren't easy to break into.
Many years after this, when I was in college, someone purchased that property from the wonderful lady who had the tortoise and the awesome garden. It was built into a modern home, that while walking through it (did I mention that I also wasn't shy about walking into half-finished building projects?) that I thoroughly approved of. What I didn't approve of was that the trees, and I also imagine the tortoise, were long gone.
When I was in the 5th grade they decided to tear down the elementary school and build a new one but that took time. At that point, we walked to that location to take a bus to another school that was probably a mile or two away. That time waiting for the bus was put to good use. We'd have our lunch money with us and we'd use a portion of that to go to Nick's Shoe Shine in town and check out his candy supply. Bringing home a pack of Ugly Cards or crumpled up candy wrappers did not make my mother happy one bit but I think what she disliked the most was when a bunch of us decided to not bother with the bus and we walked form LBE to Miano Elementary instead. Boy, did I hear all about that when I got home that day.
Now what I need to do is get my butt in gear and locate those old pics from the day.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
The Neighbors on the Block
I figure I'll be mentioning neighbors quite a bit so today I'll lay out 'the block'. Mind you, our house was on the corner of 7th and Page so working my way down Page: empty lot for the longest time until a house was moved in. The Schwartzkof's (and that's if I'm even spelling their name right, as I have no one to ask to verify that) moved into that house shortly after and lived there through the 'big snow storm' of 1961 or thereabouts. Big snow storm to a small kid, but in reality, in a part of California that gets no snow, it was one of those 'once every 20 years' sort of storms that dropped *maybe* 2 inches on the ground. After the Schwartzkof's moved, the Reeves family moved in but that wasn't until I was in the 6th grade or thereabouts. Moving on, next to that house was the Lewis family, with Pammy and Maureen, two of the 'big kids' on the block. Then at the next corner were the Berta's, an older couple who had adult children. They were very nice people and I remember Ruth Berta was the school nurse back in the day. On Murietta Street, the Adrian's, Cindy and Debi, and next to them on the next corner was the Mastroangelo's house, Paula, one of the little kids. (We would torture these little ones by saying things like 'meet you at the ____ ' and then never show up.) Now we're heading back towards 7th on Monroe Ave. and there are two houses with elderly folks in them that I never knew who they were, no kids=no interest in my book. At the corner was another Lewis family. I just can't remember the names of the older boys, I just remember Paul as he was closet in age to me and my gang. Heading back towards our house next to them were the Rooney's. They had two boys, Tommy and I believe Mike was the oldest one. Again, these older kids were off my radar. At some point in time when I was around seven or eight they adopted a young boy maybe a year or two younger than me named Jimmy. It took a while for him to feel comfortable hanging out with us. Next house over was the Reid's house, formerly the Evans house and then our house.
Across from us on Page there were about six or seven families that shaped my childhood. The Souza family on the corner, across from us. They consisted of an elderly couple and two adult daughters, Marie and Dorothy. Next to them was Mrs. Gara, one of the Basque neighbors that pretty much my claim to fame was, getting in trouble and yelled at by her for picking her flowers. She had a beautiful garden but I had no boundaries over that sort of then back then. Next to her were the Arbelbide's, Jeanne and Martin and their mother who lost her husband when I was a child due to an auto accident. She was a pretty strong woman to survive in a country where she didn't speak the language. They were French Basque and at one point in time went to France to visit relatives but that's another story, another time. Onwards west, another Souza family, no relation to the first. Three boys there, Wayne, Gene and Bobby. Wayne and Gene were the 'big kids' so not much socializing with them but Bobby was certainly part of the pack. Two more houses next to them that had older couples, the Macho's and the Jensen's (more about their niece and nephew another time) and then the Colzani's. They had a son, again, much older and a daughter Lisa who we did hang with some. That about gives the idea of the immediate neighborhood.
Once more time had passed, the empty land across from our house was replaced with homes. The Falasco's built kind of kitty-corner from us. They had a big collie named Bruce who would alert the neighborhood hours in advance of the garbage pick up and a black and white cat named Snoopy who didn't get along with our cat Bojo. Those two had many a fight back in the day. There were other houses across from us, but not people I really knew. Once they cut Page Avenue eastward to build the high school that I walked to, there were some kids I knew. The two Costa boys, who were fun kids to hang out with and several others that I'm drawing a blank on at this point. Too much time has passed. I just remember that one of the Costa boys died in an auto accident when I was in college. That happened much too soon.
I'll have to really scour this place looking for photos from that time in my life to put faces to the names.
Across from us on Page there were about six or seven families that shaped my childhood. The Souza family on the corner, across from us. They consisted of an elderly couple and two adult daughters, Marie and Dorothy. Next to them was Mrs. Gara, one of the Basque neighbors that pretty much my claim to fame was, getting in trouble and yelled at by her for picking her flowers. She had a beautiful garden but I had no boundaries over that sort of then back then. Next to her were the Arbelbide's, Jeanne and Martin and their mother who lost her husband when I was a child due to an auto accident. She was a pretty strong woman to survive in a country where she didn't speak the language. They were French Basque and at one point in time went to France to visit relatives but that's another story, another time. Onwards west, another Souza family, no relation to the first. Three boys there, Wayne, Gene and Bobby. Wayne and Gene were the 'big kids' so not much socializing with them but Bobby was certainly part of the pack. Two more houses next to them that had older couples, the Macho's and the Jensen's (more about their niece and nephew another time) and then the Colzani's. They had a son, again, much older and a daughter Lisa who we did hang with some. That about gives the idea of the immediate neighborhood.
Once more time had passed, the empty land across from our house was replaced with homes. The Falasco's built kind of kitty-corner from us. They had a big collie named Bruce who would alert the neighborhood hours in advance of the garbage pick up and a black and white cat named Snoopy who didn't get along with our cat Bojo. Those two had many a fight back in the day. There were other houses across from us, but not people I really knew. Once they cut Page Avenue eastward to build the high school that I walked to, there were some kids I knew. The two Costa boys, who were fun kids to hang out with and several others that I'm drawing a blank on at this point. Too much time has passed. I just remember that one of the Costa boys died in an auto accident when I was in college. That happened much too soon.
I'll have to really scour this place looking for photos from that time in my life to put faces to the names.
Friday, January 15, 2016
Medium Sized House in the Big Valley: Fair Weather Swimmer
Medium Sized House in the Big Valley: Fair Weather Swimmer: One thing the reader will learn about this blog of mine, is that it will not be chronological. It won't start with my birth then slog th...
Fair Weather Swimmer
One thing the reader will learn about this blog of mine, is that it will not be chronological. It won't start with my birth then slog through my infancy and then toddlerhood into my childhood etc. I will jump around a lot. Memories are what it's all about.
Los Banos was an excellent place to grow up in. I know that by the time I hit junior high and then high school, I hated it and couldn't wait to get out but now that I've 'been out' for quite some time now, I'd love to go back even though that saying 'you can't go home again' rears it's ugly head.
Summer time in my youth was a special time. As soon as school let out in mid June and was three months of play, or so I thought. Forget the exact age I was when my mother insisted that I needed swimming lessons. I wasn't really against it but when I say I'm a 'fair weather swimmer' I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I do not like cold pools. The public pool was about six blocks from my house and my lessons were at some horrible early hour, like 8 am or some nonsense like that. The pool was cold and I was cold at that time of the day. Now don't get me wrong, Los Banos isn't one of those California towns that doesn't have hot summers, quite the opposite but at 8 am, well, it's just not hot enough for me to actually want to be in the water.
After probably a six week swim course, I was good to go. We didn't have a pool at our house although that wasn't from the lack of asking 'dad, can we get a pool?' repeated daily for several years after completing the lessons. Even though we didn't have a pool, there were a few pools in the neighborhood and boy did I love that option! But again, the 'fair weather swimming' comes into play. The pool that belonged to the neighbors directly across from us, well it was nice, a pretty kidney bean shape if my memory is correct but that thing was COLD! I only recall swimming in it one time and that was enough. There were two Adrian families in the neighborhood, the aforementioned Cindy and Debi and then their aunt and uncle's house that was on the next block. I did most of my swimming in those days at Cindy and Debi's but occasionally their mom would want to go visit their aunt and uncle and I would already be at their house so I'd tag along and swim in the other Adrian pool. Now I don't know what the secret was back then, but both Adrian pools were the optimum temperature for this fair weather swimmer.
Now as an adult, I have swam in many pools that probably do exceed both the Adrian's but I highly doubt I've enjoyed those swims as much as I did back then.
Los Banos was an excellent place to grow up in. I know that by the time I hit junior high and then high school, I hated it and couldn't wait to get out but now that I've 'been out' for quite some time now, I'd love to go back even though that saying 'you can't go home again' rears it's ugly head.
Summer time in my youth was a special time. As soon as school let out in mid June and was three months of play, or so I thought. Forget the exact age I was when my mother insisted that I needed swimming lessons. I wasn't really against it but when I say I'm a 'fair weather swimmer' I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I do not like cold pools. The public pool was about six blocks from my house and my lessons were at some horrible early hour, like 8 am or some nonsense like that. The pool was cold and I was cold at that time of the day. Now don't get me wrong, Los Banos isn't one of those California towns that doesn't have hot summers, quite the opposite but at 8 am, well, it's just not hot enough for me to actually want to be in the water.
After probably a six week swim course, I was good to go. We didn't have a pool at our house although that wasn't from the lack of asking 'dad, can we get a pool?' repeated daily for several years after completing the lessons. Even though we didn't have a pool, there were a few pools in the neighborhood and boy did I love that option! But again, the 'fair weather swimming' comes into play. The pool that belonged to the neighbors directly across from us, well it was nice, a pretty kidney bean shape if my memory is correct but that thing was COLD! I only recall swimming in it one time and that was enough. There were two Adrian families in the neighborhood, the aforementioned Cindy and Debi and then their aunt and uncle's house that was on the next block. I did most of my swimming in those days at Cindy and Debi's but occasionally their mom would want to go visit their aunt and uncle and I would already be at their house so I'd tag along and swim in the other Adrian pool. Now I don't know what the secret was back then, but both Adrian pools were the optimum temperature for this fair weather swimmer.
Now as an adult, I have swam in many pools that probably do exceed both the Adrian's but I highly doubt I've enjoyed those swims as much as I did back then.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Medium Sized House in the Big Valley: Medium Sized House in the Big Valley - my weird li...
Medium Sized House in the Big Valley: Medium Sized House in the Big Valley - my weird li...: Hi, I'm Cindy. I grew up in a small town in the San Joaquin Valley, also known as the Big Valley back when things were so different from...
Medium Sized House in the Big Valley - my weird life growing up in Los Banos, California
Hi, I'm Cindy. I grew up in a small town in the San Joaquin Valley, also known as the Big Valley back when things were so different from how they are now. I never felt like we lacked anything. The house was considered big at the time, but in all honesty, it was medium sized. We had a black and white TV, a radio, a full-functioning kitchen that even had a portable dishwasher (and I don't mean me). We had two telephones! Just think! Life was good.
I can't help but reflect on things from those times. Back when I was born (mid 20th century) our street was at the edge of town and the town was on edge of becoming for it, kind of a big deal. A little background on the town first. Some people became instant millionaires (not us) when the vast land holdings they owned were purchased by the state to build the San Luis Reservoir and California Aqueduct to send water to the parched Los Angeles basin. The next big deal about all this was that at the time of the ground breaking for this construction that would cause the population to explode for a few years was that President Kennedy was in town for that. Being my parents were Republicans at the time, that little drive out to the ground breaking never happened. I would have loved to have gazed at that good looking man, even though I was only a small child at the time.
Now back to the edge of town business. Our road, 7th Street, came to an abrupt sharp right turn onto Page Avenue where 7th Street ended. We had our French Basque neighbors to the south of us, a vacant lot to the west of us that soon had a house 'moved' onto it. (was that something to watch!!). To the north of us was the Evans' house and to the east, empty land that would soon be filled with homes that bordered the soon to be constructed Los Banos High School.
Probably my first friends were the Evans girls, Katy and Mari. I barely remember them as I was probably 2 1/2 when they moved away and after that the neighbors in that particular house who had the most longevity were the Reid's and they were an older couple who had adult children. Boring!
Now to bounce back to the dam, my dad was involved indirectly in that. He worked for Holt Brothers Caterpillar Tractor that was on the edge of town (the other 'edge' from where our house was) and he would be called at any time during the night to head over to the store, as we called it, to provide a part or tool that was needed for this huge construction project. All this translates to that for about seven or eight years, I didn't see a lot of my dad. He worked very long hours.
As for the kids to hang out with, there were the Arbelbide's across the street, Jeanne and Martin and the other Cindy in the neighborhood, Cindy Adrian. Add to that Bobby Souza and if the older kids (they seemed so mature at the time to us little punks), Maureen, Pammy, Debi, Lisa, and the Lewis boys down the street deemed to give us the time of day, we had enough kids for lively round of kick ball in the street.
I'll just end it here for the day, let you think of how fun that was, playing on a very quiet street until dark on those summer nights....
I can't help but reflect on things from those times. Back when I was born (mid 20th century) our street was at the edge of town and the town was on edge of becoming for it, kind of a big deal. A little background on the town first. Some people became instant millionaires (not us) when the vast land holdings they owned were purchased by the state to build the San Luis Reservoir and California Aqueduct to send water to the parched Los Angeles basin. The next big deal about all this was that at the time of the ground breaking for this construction that would cause the population to explode for a few years was that President Kennedy was in town for that. Being my parents were Republicans at the time, that little drive out to the ground breaking never happened. I would have loved to have gazed at that good looking man, even though I was only a small child at the time.
Now back to the edge of town business. Our road, 7th Street, came to an abrupt sharp right turn onto Page Avenue where 7th Street ended. We had our French Basque neighbors to the south of us, a vacant lot to the west of us that soon had a house 'moved' onto it. (was that something to watch!!). To the north of us was the Evans' house and to the east, empty land that would soon be filled with homes that bordered the soon to be constructed Los Banos High School.
Probably my first friends were the Evans girls, Katy and Mari. I barely remember them as I was probably 2 1/2 when they moved away and after that the neighbors in that particular house who had the most longevity were the Reid's and they were an older couple who had adult children. Boring!
Now to bounce back to the dam, my dad was involved indirectly in that. He worked for Holt Brothers Caterpillar Tractor that was on the edge of town (the other 'edge' from where our house was) and he would be called at any time during the night to head over to the store, as we called it, to provide a part or tool that was needed for this huge construction project. All this translates to that for about seven or eight years, I didn't see a lot of my dad. He worked very long hours.
As for the kids to hang out with, there were the Arbelbide's across the street, Jeanne and Martin and the other Cindy in the neighborhood, Cindy Adrian. Add to that Bobby Souza and if the older kids (they seemed so mature at the time to us little punks), Maureen, Pammy, Debi, Lisa, and the Lewis boys down the street deemed to give us the time of day, we had enough kids for lively round of kick ball in the street.
I'll just end it here for the day, let you think of how fun that was, playing on a very quiet street until dark on those summer nights....
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