Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
LAUREL CREEK
LAUREL CREEK
On a personal level, I have lost my wife of nearly 65 years. A couple of years ago, the Kaiser Neurologist in Vallejo, diagnosed Marie’s forgetfulness as Alzheimer dementia. He based his decision on the MRI scan of her brain. He showed my three daughters and me, the imagery from the scan. He pointed out the frontal cortex, and explained that 50% of the cells had been destroyed. While I wasn’t surprised by his pronouncement, I was deeply wounded. My emotions were similar to those involved in grieving for the death of a loved one.
I am fortunate to be able to visit her, at Laurel Creek, twice a day. Yet, it is very difficult when I see her. Dementia is a beastly illness. It strips the person of all their humanness. I want to fix her failing mind, and restore it to the sharpness it had when she was playing bridge; when we were traveling and when she was participating in intelligent conversations. But such repair is not to be. I have read, and studied, a lot, about Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia. While I understand the process, it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
We were together here at Quail Creek for a year. Management authorized a cut-out in the common wall, so that Marie and I could each have our own apartment - living room, bed room and bath. But then, the stress of her additional care and needs, became too much. We moved her to the nearby Laurel Creek Health Center.
At first, I kept second guessing my decision on moving Marie to the skilled nursing facility, (still on campus) from our assisted living setup here at Quail Creek. I had a guilty conscience - even after I analyzed the result. I decided that she was doing better there, than here. But, it didn’t seem to help. I asked the nurse here why she thought that was. The nurse said “It was because there was a different environment over there.” I finally resolved my dilemma, and accepted the status quo. I reasoned that she is getting the best care that money can buy - at $232 a day!
Yesterday, when I visited her, we greeted each other with our usual kiss. But, this time it was different. I had the same thrill that I remember having after out first date on May 20, 1944. It was a tremendous uplifting feeling. I almost felt like “All is well, once again”. Now, I have reconciled my decision. While she doesn’t remember what she had for lunch - or even if she had lunch - she still calls me “Ray”.
RCL - 7/29/09.
On a personal level, I have lost my wife of nearly 65 years. A couple of years ago, the Kaiser Neurologist in Vallejo, diagnosed Marie’s forgetfulness as Alzheimer dementia. He based his decision on the MRI scan of her brain. He showed my three daughters and me, the imagery from the scan. He pointed out the frontal cortex, and explained that 50% of the cells had been destroyed. While I wasn’t surprised by his pronouncement, I was deeply wounded. My emotions were similar to those involved in grieving for the death of a loved one.
I am fortunate to be able to visit her, at Laurel Creek, twice a day. Yet, it is very difficult when I see her. Dementia is a beastly illness. It strips the person of all their humanness. I want to fix her failing mind, and restore it to the sharpness it had when she was playing bridge; when we were traveling and when she was participating in intelligent conversations. But such repair is not to be. I have read, and studied, a lot, about Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia. While I understand the process, it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
We were together here at Quail Creek for a year. Management authorized a cut-out in the common wall, so that Marie and I could each have our own apartment - living room, bed room and bath. But then, the stress of her additional care and needs, became too much. We moved her to the nearby Laurel Creek Health Center.
At first, I kept second guessing my decision on moving Marie to the skilled nursing facility, (still on campus) from our assisted living setup here at Quail Creek. I had a guilty conscience - even after I analyzed the result. I decided that she was doing better there, than here. But, it didn’t seem to help. I asked the nurse here why she thought that was. The nurse said “It was because there was a different environment over there.” I finally resolved my dilemma, and accepted the status quo. I reasoned that she is getting the best care that money can buy - at $232 a day!
Yesterday, when I visited her, we greeted each other with our usual kiss. But, this time it was different. I had the same thrill that I remember having after out first date on May 20, 1944. It was a tremendous uplifting feeling. I almost felt like “All is well, once again”. Now, I have reconciled my decision. While she doesn’t remember what she had for lunch - or even if she had lunch - she still calls me “Ray”.
RCL - 7/29/09.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
THERE'S MORE
THERE’S MORE
If you didn‘t catch it, Frank McCourt, the author and Pulitzer Prize winner, died on Sunday, July 19, 2009 in New York. He was 78. Of course it reminded me of his book - “Angela’s Ashes”. I really enjoyed reading it. Probably, because of my Irish descent. My Mother’s grandmother - Elizabeth Foy - was from Sligo, Ireland. She emigrated to this country in 1840. This was before Ellis Island, and four years before the Irish Potato Famine. I tried tracing the ship, that brought her to America, at the great Family History Library in Salt Lake City, to no avail. My Mother said that Elizabeth was 18 years old in 1840, but I couldn’t find her on any ship manifest during that period. It would have helped if I had known which port she departed from (Sligo?; Liverpool?) and which port of entry in the U.S.(New York?). This information would have helped me to determine whether she traveled alone ,or with her family.
I have always liked the wit and humor of the Irish, along with their proclivity to talk. The Irish accent always helps. Most Irish are adept at telling stories and Jokes. I have never met a bashful Irish man or woman. Two friends of mine, Gene Doyle and Dennis Horgan have these vocabulary skills. I never tire of their humor - even though I had heard the same thing before. A sense of humor ran in our family, for which I am grateful. My Mother could laugh even when the joke was on her. Not many people can do this.
RCL 7/28/09.
If you didn‘t catch it, Frank McCourt, the author and Pulitzer Prize winner, died on Sunday, July 19, 2009 in New York. He was 78. Of course it reminded me of his book - “Angela’s Ashes”. I really enjoyed reading it. Probably, because of my Irish descent. My Mother’s grandmother - Elizabeth Foy - was from Sligo, Ireland. She emigrated to this country in 1840. This was before Ellis Island, and four years before the Irish Potato Famine. I tried tracing the ship, that brought her to America, at the great Family History Library in Salt Lake City, to no avail. My Mother said that Elizabeth was 18 years old in 1840, but I couldn’t find her on any ship manifest during that period. It would have helped if I had known which port she departed from (Sligo?; Liverpool?) and which port of entry in the U.S.(New York?). This information would have helped me to determine whether she traveled alone ,or with her family.
I have always liked the wit and humor of the Irish, along with their proclivity to talk. The Irish accent always helps. Most Irish are adept at telling stories and Jokes. I have never met a bashful Irish man or woman. Two friends of mine, Gene Doyle and Dennis Horgan have these vocabulary skills. I never tire of their humor - even though I had heard the same thing before. A sense of humor ran in our family, for which I am grateful. My Mother could laugh even when the joke was on her. Not many people can do this.
RCL 7/28/09.
Monday, July 27, 2009
THIS & THAT
THIS & THAT
After reading a review by Kyle Smith, in today’s Wall Street Journal, (“Say Everything” by Scott Rosenberg), I am reluctant to Blog. but, here goes anyway.
Speaking of the Wall Street Journal, I read another interesting article.
“Lighten Up: Rediscovering The Summer Suit”, by Eric Felten. He discussed Americas’ prejudice against summer suits. He mentioned “Seersucker Suits”. This term rang a bell. My memory flashed back to the late 1930’s, when I wore a seersucker suit! I wore a pair of white buckskin shoes with the suit. At least, they were white - before my friend Jim urinated in them. We had bowled until early Sunday morning. It was so late that Jim didn’t want to go home. He asked if he could sleep at our house. My bedroom was upstairs, in a very nice house in Ypsilanti. We had only one bathroom, on the first floor. Jim cheated! I also wore a brown herringbone sport coat with white flannel trousers, a dress shirt and bow tie. My shoes were brown and white wing tip oxfords. My close friends didn’t call me “Duke” for nothing. When the ambient temperature in the summer, in Michigan, equals the relative humidity, you aren’t motivated to wear a dark suit.
The fire engine and ambulance, with flashing lights, just drove by. When you live on an “Aging in Place” campus, this is a frequent sight. You just hope that the first responders aren’t coming to attend you.
It was a busy weekend. On Friday night, Quail Creek hosted a very nice Luau - a hula dancer and all! How’s this for our menu?
For starters, we had Hawaiian Chicken & Mandarin Salad with Cashews & Wontons &Sweet & Spicy Vinaigrette. For our entrée’, we had a choice between Huli Huli Beef Skewers, or Grilled Mahi Mahi with Mango Salsa. Served with either choice, was Coconut Rice and Sweet & Sour Vegetables. For dessert, they served Pineapple Upside Down Cake a` la Mode with Toasted Coconut. There was a wide variety of drinks - including coffee, de cafe, milk, beer, wine and mai tai’s and soft drinks.
I am sure the residents, and their guests, enjoyed the evening as much as I did. It was very well done. While the program was labor intensive, and expensive. It was a very nice fringe benefit.
On Sunday, I went down to Blue Rock Springs in Vallejo, to attend the Torres Family Reunion. It was quite a gathering. There were about 100 people there including family and friends. While it was a big undertaking, everyone pitches in and helps - either with money or bringing a dish. The senior Torres’ started the annual affair, and now, after their deaths, their eight children are carrying on the tradition. Each summer, they rotate the hosting among the eight families, who live in different cities - from San Diego to Seattle. The Reunion was very enjoyable. The weather was kind to us, and I got to visit many people that I hadn’t seen in quite a while. The participants take this gathering seriously. A lady and her daughter flew in from Guam, and another lady from Tampa.
While enjoying Blue Rock Springs Park, I couldn’t help but reflect back 40 years ago when our family was enjoying a picnic. It was Sunday, July 20, 1969. I had taken my transistor radio along because I knew that our first moon landing was about to take place. As we were leaving the park, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “The Eagle has landed”
I played bocce ball last week and we won - 12-8. I was sweating it out because the other team was composed of women. They usually roll better than the men. My good feeling was short lived. One of my teammate’s wife was critical. She died the following day.
I played bridge this afternoon, and had lousy cards. My total score (we play six hands, rotating through three tables) was barely higher than the winner of the “booby’ prize. One bright spot, I heard a new quotation from one of our opponents: “Once, I thought that I had made a mistake, but I found out it was a mistake”.
RCL - 7/27/09
Rev.
After reading a review by Kyle Smith, in today’s Wall Street Journal, (“Say Everything” by Scott Rosenberg), I am reluctant to Blog. but, here goes anyway.
Speaking of the Wall Street Journal, I read another interesting article.
“Lighten Up: Rediscovering The Summer Suit”, by Eric Felten. He discussed Americas’ prejudice against summer suits. He mentioned “Seersucker Suits”. This term rang a bell. My memory flashed back to the late 1930’s, when I wore a seersucker suit! I wore a pair of white buckskin shoes with the suit. At least, they were white - before my friend Jim urinated in them. We had bowled until early Sunday morning. It was so late that Jim didn’t want to go home. He asked if he could sleep at our house. My bedroom was upstairs, in a very nice house in Ypsilanti. We had only one bathroom, on the first floor. Jim cheated! I also wore a brown herringbone sport coat with white flannel trousers, a dress shirt and bow tie. My shoes were brown and white wing tip oxfords. My close friends didn’t call me “Duke” for nothing. When the ambient temperature in the summer, in Michigan, equals the relative humidity, you aren’t motivated to wear a dark suit.
The fire engine and ambulance, with flashing lights, just drove by. When you live on an “Aging in Place” campus, this is a frequent sight. You just hope that the first responders aren’t coming to attend you.
It was a busy weekend. On Friday night, Quail Creek hosted a very nice Luau - a hula dancer and all! How’s this for our menu?
For starters, we had Hawaiian Chicken & Mandarin Salad with Cashews & Wontons &Sweet & Spicy Vinaigrette. For our entrée’, we had a choice between Huli Huli Beef Skewers, or Grilled Mahi Mahi with Mango Salsa. Served with either choice, was Coconut Rice and Sweet & Sour Vegetables. For dessert, they served Pineapple Upside Down Cake a` la Mode with Toasted Coconut. There was a wide variety of drinks - including coffee, de cafe, milk, beer, wine and mai tai’s and soft drinks.
I am sure the residents, and their guests, enjoyed the evening as much as I did. It was very well done. While the program was labor intensive, and expensive. It was a very nice fringe benefit.
On Sunday, I went down to Blue Rock Springs in Vallejo, to attend the Torres Family Reunion. It was quite a gathering. There were about 100 people there including family and friends. While it was a big undertaking, everyone pitches in and helps - either with money or bringing a dish. The senior Torres’ started the annual affair, and now, after their deaths, their eight children are carrying on the tradition. Each summer, they rotate the hosting among the eight families, who live in different cities - from San Diego to Seattle. The Reunion was very enjoyable. The weather was kind to us, and I got to visit many people that I hadn’t seen in quite a while. The participants take this gathering seriously. A lady and her daughter flew in from Guam, and another lady from Tampa.
While enjoying Blue Rock Springs Park, I couldn’t help but reflect back 40 years ago when our family was enjoying a picnic. It was Sunday, July 20, 1969. I had taken my transistor radio along because I knew that our first moon landing was about to take place. As we were leaving the park, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “The Eagle has landed”
I played bocce ball last week and we won - 12-8. I was sweating it out because the other team was composed of women. They usually roll better than the men. My good feeling was short lived. One of my teammate’s wife was critical. She died the following day.
I played bridge this afternoon, and had lousy cards. My total score (we play six hands, rotating through three tables) was barely higher than the winner of the “booby’ prize. One bright spot, I heard a new quotation from one of our opponents: “Once, I thought that I had made a mistake, but I found out it was a mistake”.
RCL - 7/27/09
Rev.
THIS & THAT
After reading a review by Kyle Smith, in today’s Wall Street Journal, (“Say Everything” by Scott Rosenberg), I am reluctant to Blog. but, here goes anyway.
Speaking of the Wall Street Journal, I read another interesting article.
“Lighten Up: Rediscovering The Summer Suit”, by Eric Felten. He discussed Americas’ prejudice against summer suits. He mentioned “Seersucker Suits”. This term rang a bell. My memory flashed back to the late 1930’s, when I wore a seersucker suit! I wore a pair of white buckskin shoes with the suit. At least, they were white - before my friend Jim urinated in them. We had bowled until early Sunday morning. It was so late that Jim didn’t want to go home. He asked if he could sleep at our house. My bedroom was upstairs, in a very nice house in Ypsilanti. We had only one bathroom, on the first floor. Jim cheated! I also wore a brown herringbone sport coat with white flannel trousers, a dress shirt and bow tie. My shoes were brown and white wing tip oxfords. My close friends didn’t call me “Duke” for nothing. When the ambient temperature in the summer, in Michigan, equals the relative humidity, you aren’t motivated to wear a dark suit.
The fire engine and ambulance, with flashing lights, just drove by. When you live on an “Aging in Place” campus, this is a frequent sight. You just hope that the first responders aren’t coming to attend you.
It was a busy weekend. On Friday night, Quail Creek hosted a very nice Luau - a hula dancer and all! I am sure the residents,, and their guests enjoyed it as much as I did. It was very well done. The program was labor intensive, and expensive. It was a very nice fringe benefit.
I played bocce ball last week and we won - 12-8. I was sweating it out because the other team was composed of women. They usually roll better than the men. My good feeling was short lived. One of my teammate’s wife was critical. She died the following day.
I played bridge this afternoon, and had lousy cards. My total score (we play six hands, rotating through three tables) was barely higher than the winner of the “booby’ prize. One bright spot, I heard a new quotation from one of our opponents: “Once, I thought that I had made a mistake, but I found out it was a mistake”.
On Sunday, I went down to Blue Rock Springs in Vallejo, to attend the Torres Family Reunion. It was quite a gathering. There were about 100 people there including family and friends. While it was a big undertaking, everyone pitches in and helps - either with money or bringing a dish. The senior Torres’ started the annual affair, and now, after their deaths, their eight children are carrying on the tradition. Each summer, they rotate the hosting among the eight families, who live in different cities - from San Diego to Seattle. The Reunion was very enjoyable. The weather was kind to us, and I got to visit many people that I hadn’t seen in quite a while. The participants take this gathering seriously. A lady and her daughter flew in from Guam, and another lady from Tampa.
RCL - 7/27/09.
After reading a review by Kyle Smith, in today’s Wall Street Journal, (“Say Everything” by Scott Rosenberg), I am reluctant to Blog. but, here goes anyway.
Speaking of the Wall Street Journal, I read another interesting article.
“Lighten Up: Rediscovering The Summer Suit”, by Eric Felten. He discussed Americas’ prejudice against summer suits. He mentioned “Seersucker Suits”. This term rang a bell. My memory flashed back to the late 1930’s, when I wore a seersucker suit! I wore a pair of white buckskin shoes with the suit. At least, they were white - before my friend Jim urinated in them. We had bowled until early Sunday morning. It was so late that Jim didn’t want to go home. He asked if he could sleep at our house. My bedroom was upstairs, in a very nice house in Ypsilanti. We had only one bathroom, on the first floor. Jim cheated! I also wore a brown herringbone sport coat with white flannel trousers, a dress shirt and bow tie. My shoes were brown and white wing tip oxfords. My close friends didn’t call me “Duke” for nothing. When the ambient temperature in the summer, in Michigan, equals the relative humidity, you aren’t motivated to wear a dark suit.
The fire engine and ambulance, with flashing lights, just drove by. When you live on an “Aging in Place” campus, this is a frequent sight. You just hope that the first responders aren’t coming to attend you.
It was a busy weekend. On Friday night, Quail Creek hosted a very nice Luau - a hula dancer and all! I am sure the residents,, and their guests enjoyed it as much as I did. It was very well done. The program was labor intensive, and expensive. It was a very nice fringe benefit.
I played bocce ball last week and we won - 12-8. I was sweating it out because the other team was composed of women. They usually roll better than the men. My good feeling was short lived. One of my teammate’s wife was critical. She died the following day.
I played bridge this afternoon, and had lousy cards. My total score (we play six hands, rotating through three tables) was barely higher than the winner of the “booby’ prize. One bright spot, I heard a new quotation from one of our opponents: “Once, I thought that I had made a mistake, but I found out it was a mistake”.
On Sunday, I went down to Blue Rock Springs in Vallejo, to attend the Torres Family Reunion. It was quite a gathering. There were about 100 people there including family and friends. While it was a big undertaking, everyone pitches in and helps - either with money or bringing a dish. The senior Torres’ started the annual affair, and now, after their deaths, their eight children are carrying on the tradition. Each summer, they rotate the hosting among the eight families, who live in different cities - from San Diego to Seattle. The Reunion was very enjoyable. The weather was kind to us, and I got to visit many people that I hadn’t seen in quite a while. The participants take this gathering seriously. A lady and her daughter flew in from Guam, and another lady from Tampa.
RCL - 7/27/09.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
AUTO MUSEUM
AUTO MUSEUM
Today is Wednesday, July 22, 2009. We are heading to Sacramento - our State Capitol - to visit the California Automobile Museum. (It was formerly known as the Towe Auto Museum.). It is situated close to downtown Sacramento and Old Sacramento. Our “Outing” was nearly scrubbed because we only have four “sign-ups”. Someone recruited a sixth person, who very kindly accepted. So, we were able to leave at 9:45.
My gasoline report: Shell - $2.86; Chevron - $3.00 and Arco at $2.78. Crude oil is listed at $64.72/ bbl. Still a lot of construction going on with the Texas Street Exit and overpass. Eastbound traffic is light. The weather is sunny and clear - about 70 degrees. The weatherman forecasts 93 degrees for Fairfield and Sacramento today. We pass a Highway Patrol car sitting on the emergency parking median to our right. It is interesting how the tail lights come on when drivers spot the car. (there doesn’t have to be an officer in it!).
Tony is passing a Chavez truck hauling two bottom-dump trailers. A purple VW Bug is passing on our right, with a San Francisco sticker on the back window. We are passing the Vacaville Factory Outlet complex on our right; The New Kaiser Medical Clinic and hospital on our left. the PG&E power sub-station to our left. We pass a truck loaded with a container. It must have just arrived in the Port of Oakland.
Passing a fruit stand off to our right. I used to pick up June Timm there when we went to our monthly Area Agencies on Aging meetings in the Capitol in Sacramento. The Golden Arches stand prominently off the freeway to my right. Whoever thought of this corporate symbol was pretty smart. I wonder it there is anyone in the world who doesn’t instantly recognize the MacDonald corporate logo? The car lots are still full as we pass by. I wonder if these stranded cars will ever be sold?
Passing some healthy looking green fields. I presume that it is sugar beets, because numerous bottom-dump trailers are parked next to the last field. We pass an Atlas Van Lines moving van. Every time that I see such a truck, I always wonder about the family dynamics surrounding the furniture in transit. Who are they? How large is the family. Where did they live? Where are they moving to? Then there is the trauma and stress of new jobs - new home and neighborhood, and new schools. The list goes on and on.
There aren’t too many trucks in transit. This is not an encouraging sign. A highway sign on the right shoulder - Sacramento - 11. We are riding on the Yolo Causeway now. The car ahead of us is using all the lane. There is a phone antennae on the rear-top. So, I presume that the driver is breaking the law by using his/her cell phone. Tony passes the car at freeway speed - 65 mph. I check out the driver as we drive by. It is an old “he” - no phone in sight - my theory dashed.
Tony takes the left fork Highway 50 to Lake Tahoe and Downtown Sacramento. The other 80 split goes past the Sacramento Airport and on to Reno. We leave at the next Exit - “West Sacramento and Port of Sacramento.” We are on the Tower Bridge which is above the Sacramento river. It dumps us off at 5th street and Broadway. We proceed to Front street where the Museum is located. We arrive at 10:30.
There was a 1927 Model T on display near the lobby. It was for sale - $69939! When new, it cost #485! My first car was a 1924 Model T Ford touring car. Actually, it was a joint venture with my neighbor, and friend, Don Dewar. We each chipped in $7 from our hard-work earnings. The year was 1935. I can’t remember the name of the fellow that sold it to us. As I recall, he lived in the large house on the Southwest corner of Bagley Road and Mulberry Street. I think that we towed that car more miles than we drove it. It’s a wonder that we didn’t break an arm cranking it. My most vivid memory of it was when we went to Chippewa Lake, South of Cleveland. It was on a Saturday night, after I had finished “bagging” at Fishers grocery store. Don was driving, and we were rolling down the hill (probably about 35mph) into Medina. The engine was back-firing and the fumes burned my eyes. It is a wonder that the police didn’t stop us. They must have been sleeping, or on their late night -coffee and donut break. It is strange, but I can’t recall our return trip. That experience must have convinced us to sell the car. We sold it to Burke frees, who was a year younger than Don and I, for $21 - a 50% profit.
I started out logging in the cars as I observed them. Little did I know that there would be 160 cars on display, in this 72,000 sq. foot expanse. I did record some of the cars vital info, before I realized that it would take beaucoup hours to log all of them:
- A Wells Fargo U.S. Mail Wagon -
-1908 Reo. (As I recall from my childhood, Reo became Oldsmobile, which GM has discontinued!)
- 1931 Chrysler Roadster (a beautiful convertible).
- 1933 Lincoln = a rack in the back for luggage.) (owned by B of A founder, A.P. Giannini).
- 1937 Ford Town Car.
- 1959 Dodge Coronet Station Wagon (“Woodie”).
- 1951 Ford Station Wagon (“Woodie“).
- 1940 Lincoln Town car (owned by Clara Ford - Henry‘s wife)
- 1942 Lincoln Zephyr - 4 door sedan.
- 1940 Lincoln Zephyr sedan
- 1947 Lincoln Continental Convertible (a beauty).
- 1925 Cadillac
- 1929 Hudson Super Six Roadster.
- 1929 engine for a Ford Tri-motor airplane.
- 1923 Studebaker
- 1928 Cunningham Brougham Sedan
- 1934 Pierce Arrow (the headlights are mounted on the front fenders)
- 1936 Packard Eight
- 1937 Chrysler Imperial coupe
- 1937 Cadillac Sedan
- 1962 Pontiac Bonneville
- 1996 Porsche
- 1998 Jaguar
- 1971 Corvette Coup
- 1971 Mercedes Benz
- 1963 Chrysler Imperial
- 1913 Rauch and Lang (Electric Car - so it isn’t a new idea today.)
- 1981 Bradley Electric
- 1972 Datson Electric
- 1977 American Motors Pacer
- 1974 Plymouth
- 1971 Star Streak Motor Home
- 1987 Lamborghini (two doors that popped out and up when opened)
- 1956 Ford Thunderbird
- 1953 Kaiser Manhattan
- 1931 Ford Model A Deluxe Roadster (I had a 1931 Ford Coupe (no rumble seat). I paid $165 for it in 1937.)
- 1939 Studebaker Commander Roadster
- 1936 Ford Roadster
- 1936 Chrysler Airflow Coupe
- 1925 Franklin (air cooled engine)
- 1927 Nash Coupe
- 1931 Ford Victoria
- 1928 Willys Knight Coupe
- 1940 Hudson
- 1936 Plymouth Coupe
- 1953 Jaguar XK-120
- 1938 Rolls Royce Sport Sedan
- 1967 Morris
- 1961 VW “Beetle”
- 1911 Pierce Arrow - ( a beauty, restored by Harrah’s - Reno)
- 1910 Peerless - 7 Passenger Tourer ( not restored.)
- 1912 Metz Roadster
- 1940 Pontiac Station Wagon
Also, there were many old racing cars on display, and many other types, such as:
1882 Horsecar - (the father of the cable car and trolley)
1921 Ford Model T Snowmobile
1905 Model T. (there was a generator mounted on the front of the left running board. It would mix carbide and water to produce an acetylene gas which was pumped to the headlights and then the driver would hand-light the gas in the headlamps. Later on, the Presto lights were invented, which didn’t require a generator.)
At this point, I stopped copying the car info, and just enjoyed looking at these historic treasures.
We departed from the Museum at 11:35, after spending a little over an hour there. I could have spent a whole day reminiscing about all of that auto history.
Back in the 1930’s, girls weren’t much interested in cars. I only knew of one woman who had a driver’s license, and that was my wife, Marie. She was permitted to drive by the State of California, even though she was only 14. Her Dad had just died, and her Mother didn’t drive. I do remember that my sister Jeanne drove right after WWII ended. Today, most women drive out of necessity - for their job, or hauling their kids to all of their many extra curricula activities. A woman is also driving racing cars, and competing very well against the men. Of course, boys have always been interested in cars. They become a parental pest, as they couldn’t wait to be licensed.
It was only a five minute drive to Joe’s Crab Shack, where we had a nice lunch. The restaurant sits at the edge of the Sacramento River. It is a great setting. There is a lot of “atmosphere” inside, which made it interesting.
On the way back, I noticed two large- newer buildings on the west side of the river. There are some high- cirrus clouds overhead. It is warm and sunny. I can see the foothills to the west, about 15 miles away.
The traffic is still light west-bound on I-80. On the right, we are passing the Mondavi Center for the Arts, on the UC - Daviscampus. The oleander bushes, forming a living fence along the median divider, is in full bloom. They are very attractive. They do very well in the summer heat. Apparently, they don’t require much water. Also, on the right is a large Camping World facility. There are many recreational vehicles sitting idly by in their parking lot. It wasn’t too many years ago, when such vehicles would have been on the road in the middle of the busy vacation season.
I see a highway sign: Vallejo 22
San Francisco 52
As we turn the corner, I see a new Pre-School building under construction. While progress seemed quite rapid at the start, it seems to have stalled out recently - even though the sign on the fence says “Coming Soon”. Kelli looked into it, to care for her young son Hunter during the day. She said that their proposed tuition is very pricey, at $275 a week !
Tony had to slam on the brakes when some dumb driver pulled out right in front of us. A good thing that he is an excellent driver and always watchful and on the alert.
We arrive back at Quail Creek at 2:00 p.m. Tony tells me that our round trip covered 84 miles. RCL - 7/25/09.
Today is Wednesday, July 22, 2009. We are heading to Sacramento - our State Capitol - to visit the California Automobile Museum. (It was formerly known as the Towe Auto Museum.). It is situated close to downtown Sacramento and Old Sacramento. Our “Outing” was nearly scrubbed because we only have four “sign-ups”. Someone recruited a sixth person, who very kindly accepted. So, we were able to leave at 9:45.
My gasoline report: Shell - $2.86; Chevron - $3.00 and Arco at $2.78. Crude oil is listed at $64.72/ bbl. Still a lot of construction going on with the Texas Street Exit and overpass. Eastbound traffic is light. The weather is sunny and clear - about 70 degrees. The weatherman forecasts 93 degrees for Fairfield and Sacramento today. We pass a Highway Patrol car sitting on the emergency parking median to our right. It is interesting how the tail lights come on when drivers spot the car. (there doesn’t have to be an officer in it!).
Tony is passing a Chavez truck hauling two bottom-dump trailers. A purple VW Bug is passing on our right, with a San Francisco sticker on the back window. We are passing the Vacaville Factory Outlet complex on our right; The New Kaiser Medical Clinic and hospital on our left. the PG&E power sub-station to our left. We pass a truck loaded with a container. It must have just arrived in the Port of Oakland.
Passing a fruit stand off to our right. I used to pick up June Timm there when we went to our monthly Area Agencies on Aging meetings in the Capitol in Sacramento. The Golden Arches stand prominently off the freeway to my right. Whoever thought of this corporate symbol was pretty smart. I wonder it there is anyone in the world who doesn’t instantly recognize the MacDonald corporate logo? The car lots are still full as we pass by. I wonder if these stranded cars will ever be sold?
Passing some healthy looking green fields. I presume that it is sugar beets, because numerous bottom-dump trailers are parked next to the last field. We pass an Atlas Van Lines moving van. Every time that I see such a truck, I always wonder about the family dynamics surrounding the furniture in transit. Who are they? How large is the family. Where did they live? Where are they moving to? Then there is the trauma and stress of new jobs - new home and neighborhood, and new schools. The list goes on and on.
There aren’t too many trucks in transit. This is not an encouraging sign. A highway sign on the right shoulder - Sacramento - 11. We are riding on the Yolo Causeway now. The car ahead of us is using all the lane. There is a phone antennae on the rear-top. So, I presume that the driver is breaking the law by using his/her cell phone. Tony passes the car at freeway speed - 65 mph. I check out the driver as we drive by. It is an old “he” - no phone in sight - my theory dashed.
Tony takes the left fork Highway 50 to Lake Tahoe and Downtown Sacramento. The other 80 split goes past the Sacramento Airport and on to Reno. We leave at the next Exit - “West Sacramento and Port of Sacramento.” We are on the Tower Bridge which is above the Sacramento river. It dumps us off at 5th street and Broadway. We proceed to Front street where the Museum is located. We arrive at 10:30.
There was a 1927 Model T on display near the lobby. It was for sale - $69939! When new, it cost #485! My first car was a 1924 Model T Ford touring car. Actually, it was a joint venture with my neighbor, and friend, Don Dewar. We each chipped in $7 from our hard-work earnings. The year was 1935. I can’t remember the name of the fellow that sold it to us. As I recall, he lived in the large house on the Southwest corner of Bagley Road and Mulberry Street. I think that we towed that car more miles than we drove it. It’s a wonder that we didn’t break an arm cranking it. My most vivid memory of it was when we went to Chippewa Lake, South of Cleveland. It was on a Saturday night, after I had finished “bagging” at Fishers grocery store. Don was driving, and we were rolling down the hill (probably about 35mph) into Medina. The engine was back-firing and the fumes burned my eyes. It is a wonder that the police didn’t stop us. They must have been sleeping, or on their late night -coffee and donut break. It is strange, but I can’t recall our return trip. That experience must have convinced us to sell the car. We sold it to Burke frees, who was a year younger than Don and I, for $21 - a 50% profit.
I started out logging in the cars as I observed them. Little did I know that there would be 160 cars on display, in this 72,000 sq. foot expanse. I did record some of the cars vital info, before I realized that it would take beaucoup hours to log all of them:
- A Wells Fargo U.S. Mail Wagon -
-1908 Reo. (As I recall from my childhood, Reo became Oldsmobile, which GM has discontinued!)
- 1931 Chrysler Roadster (a beautiful convertible).
- 1933 Lincoln = a rack in the back for luggage.) (owned by B of A founder, A.P. Giannini).
- 1937 Ford Town Car.
- 1959 Dodge Coronet Station Wagon (“Woodie”).
- 1951 Ford Station Wagon (“Woodie“).
- 1940 Lincoln Town car (owned by Clara Ford - Henry‘s wife)
- 1942 Lincoln Zephyr - 4 door sedan.
- 1940 Lincoln Zephyr sedan
- 1947 Lincoln Continental Convertible (a beauty).
- 1925 Cadillac
- 1929 Hudson Super Six Roadster.
- 1929 engine for a Ford Tri-motor airplane.
- 1923 Studebaker
- 1928 Cunningham Brougham Sedan
- 1934 Pierce Arrow (the headlights are mounted on the front fenders)
- 1936 Packard Eight
- 1937 Chrysler Imperial coupe
- 1937 Cadillac Sedan
- 1962 Pontiac Bonneville
- 1996 Porsche
- 1998 Jaguar
- 1971 Corvette Coup
- 1971 Mercedes Benz
- 1963 Chrysler Imperial
- 1913 Rauch and Lang (Electric Car - so it isn’t a new idea today.)
- 1981 Bradley Electric
- 1972 Datson Electric
- 1977 American Motors Pacer
- 1974 Plymouth
- 1971 Star Streak Motor Home
- 1987 Lamborghini (two doors that popped out and up when opened)
- 1956 Ford Thunderbird
- 1953 Kaiser Manhattan
- 1931 Ford Model A Deluxe Roadster (I had a 1931 Ford Coupe (no rumble seat). I paid $165 for it in 1937.)
- 1939 Studebaker Commander Roadster
- 1936 Ford Roadster
- 1936 Chrysler Airflow Coupe
- 1925 Franklin (air cooled engine)
- 1927 Nash Coupe
- 1931 Ford Victoria
- 1928 Willys Knight Coupe
- 1940 Hudson
- 1936 Plymouth Coupe
- 1953 Jaguar XK-120
- 1938 Rolls Royce Sport Sedan
- 1967 Morris
- 1961 VW “Beetle”
- 1911 Pierce Arrow - ( a beauty, restored by Harrah’s - Reno)
- 1910 Peerless - 7 Passenger Tourer ( not restored.)
- 1912 Metz Roadster
- 1940 Pontiac Station Wagon
Also, there were many old racing cars on display, and many other types, such as:
1882 Horsecar - (the father of the cable car and trolley)
1921 Ford Model T Snowmobile
1905 Model T. (there was a generator mounted on the front of the left running board. It would mix carbide and water to produce an acetylene gas which was pumped to the headlights and then the driver would hand-light the gas in the headlamps. Later on, the Presto lights were invented, which didn’t require a generator.)
At this point, I stopped copying the car info, and just enjoyed looking at these historic treasures.
We departed from the Museum at 11:35, after spending a little over an hour there. I could have spent a whole day reminiscing about all of that auto history.
Back in the 1930’s, girls weren’t much interested in cars. I only knew of one woman who had a driver’s license, and that was my wife, Marie. She was permitted to drive by the State of California, even though she was only 14. Her Dad had just died, and her Mother didn’t drive. I do remember that my sister Jeanne drove right after WWII ended. Today, most women drive out of necessity - for their job, or hauling their kids to all of their many extra curricula activities. A woman is also driving racing cars, and competing very well against the men. Of course, boys have always been interested in cars. They become a parental pest, as they couldn’t wait to be licensed.
It was only a five minute drive to Joe’s Crab Shack, where we had a nice lunch. The restaurant sits at the edge of the Sacramento River. It is a great setting. There is a lot of “atmosphere” inside, which made it interesting.
On the way back, I noticed two large- newer buildings on the west side of the river. There are some high- cirrus clouds overhead. It is warm and sunny. I can see the foothills to the west, about 15 miles away.
The traffic is still light west-bound on I-80. On the right, we are passing the Mondavi Center for the Arts, on the UC - Daviscampus. The oleander bushes, forming a living fence along the median divider, is in full bloom. They are very attractive. They do very well in the summer heat. Apparently, they don’t require much water. Also, on the right is a large Camping World facility. There are many recreational vehicles sitting idly by in their parking lot. It wasn’t too many years ago, when such vehicles would have been on the road in the middle of the busy vacation season.
I see a highway sign: Vallejo 22
San Francisco 52
As we turn the corner, I see a new Pre-School building under construction. While progress seemed quite rapid at the start, it seems to have stalled out recently - even though the sign on the fence says “Coming Soon”. Kelli looked into it, to care for her young son Hunter during the day. She said that their proposed tuition is very pricey, at $275 a week !
Tony had to slam on the brakes when some dumb driver pulled out right in front of us. A good thing that he is an excellent driver and always watchful and on the alert.
We arrive back at Quail Creek at 2:00 p.m. Tony tells me that our round trip covered 84 miles. RCL - 7/25/09.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
YOU CALL IT
“YOU CALL IT”
Yesterday was an interesting and busy day. I played bocce ball in the morning (We lost 12-5!), and bridge in the afternoon! These folks take bocce ball seriously. They revel in protocol and rituals. As a newcomer, I feel that this leaves a little bit more to be desired in the game.
The game is started by the team captains flipping a coin to see which team rolls first. When I first started playing bocce ball, no one had a coin. Finally, someone donated a quarter to the cause. It was placed at the bottom of the ball carrier. Apparently, the coin walked off. Today, one of the captains had a penny. One flipped the coin, and the other called it. The only trouble was , the four elderly eyes of the two captains had difficulty determining whether the resting coin was a “head” or a “tail”.
At the end of the rolling of four red balls and four green balls, is the part that I enjoy - the awarding of points. There is a tape measure on each side of the court. The players use these to measure the distance of their rolled balls from the white pallino, to see which one is the closest (for a point). Usually, you can determine this by eye-balling the distances. But, when it is disputed by a team member, they go to measuring. An opposite team member is at each end of the tape measure. It gets interesting (and I think entertaining) when more than two balls are being contested. By the time that the measurers take the third measurement, they have forgotten what the first measurement was, and they start all over!
After our 0845 game, I was placing the balls (which we had just used) back in the wooden rack, to be ready for the 1000 o’clock start for the next two teams. Some “clown” waiting to play the next game told me not to put different colored balls in the same rack. (there are two racks - side by side). So, I handed him one of the balls. He gave me a “fishy-eyed look”, so I told him that “complainers can put the balls wherever they want.” He said, “I wasn’t complaining I was telling you what to do!”
At our game, Virginia, the captain of the other team said “Ray, I heard that you play bridge.” (Apparently, my daughter Sue told someone, when she was watching us play last week, and the word got around.) I told her that I did. She invited me to their bridge session starting at 1:00. I accepted. It was an interesting afternoon (three hours). I had never played with “unknowns’ before. While I looked forward to meeting new people, I was afraid that they might be of tournament caliber. I found later - after playing - that my fear was unfounded . They didn’t play any better than I did. Virginia (who invited me, and heads up the group) told me to sign in and give her a dollar. There were four tables (16 players), and we rotated to another table after three games, playing with a different partner. I still don’t know the process. I just followed instructions.
At the last table where I played, one of our opponents was “George”. He was an interesting player. He didn’t like “No Trump” bids, he liked to cross trump”. Consequently, there was some strange bidding going on. One of the ladies (there were 12 ladies and four men) gave me an early warning. She said “When you play with George, you never know what cards he holds by his bidding.”). While we were playing, there was a break in the action. One of the guys, playing at another table had gone “missing”. He apparently didn’t say anything - just left the table. Apparently, he has Alzheimer’s. Women were looking outside the room for him, one was calling his home phone, but got no answer. George volunteered that “it didn’t mean anything, because he never answers his phone anyway.” While the women were scurrying around looking for him, (they should have peeked into the Mens Room), the guys kept hollering “Let’s play bridge.” About 15 minutes later, the guy strolled in, and all the ladies hollered in unison, ”What happened to you?” He replied, with a smirk,, “I was sitting on the pot”! Bridge continued. Such moments make it easier for me to cope with old age.
About four o’clock I was finished playing and was about to take off, when Virginia looked at my score and suggested that I stick around until the last table finished. “You might have won something”. So, I waited until they finished and Virginia gave me back my $1. I still don’t know what that meant.
I signed the log book agreeing to show up Monday at 1:00, for another bridge session.
RCL - 7/16/09.
Yesterday was an interesting and busy day. I played bocce ball in the morning (We lost 12-5!), and bridge in the afternoon! These folks take bocce ball seriously. They revel in protocol and rituals. As a newcomer, I feel that this leaves a little bit more to be desired in the game.
The game is started by the team captains flipping a coin to see which team rolls first. When I first started playing bocce ball, no one had a coin. Finally, someone donated a quarter to the cause. It was placed at the bottom of the ball carrier. Apparently, the coin walked off. Today, one of the captains had a penny. One flipped the coin, and the other called it. The only trouble was , the four elderly eyes of the two captains had difficulty determining whether the resting coin was a “head” or a “tail”.
At the end of the rolling of four red balls and four green balls, is the part that I enjoy - the awarding of points. There is a tape measure on each side of the court. The players use these to measure the distance of their rolled balls from the white pallino, to see which one is the closest (for a point). Usually, you can determine this by eye-balling the distances. But, when it is disputed by a team member, they go to measuring. An opposite team member is at each end of the tape measure. It gets interesting (and I think entertaining) when more than two balls are being contested. By the time that the measurers take the third measurement, they have forgotten what the first measurement was, and they start all over!
After our 0845 game, I was placing the balls (which we had just used) back in the wooden rack, to be ready for the 1000 o’clock start for the next two teams. Some “clown” waiting to play the next game told me not to put different colored balls in the same rack. (there are two racks - side by side). So, I handed him one of the balls. He gave me a “fishy-eyed look”, so I told him that “complainers can put the balls wherever they want.” He said, “I wasn’t complaining I was telling you what to do!”
At our game, Virginia, the captain of the other team said “Ray, I heard that you play bridge.” (Apparently, my daughter Sue told someone, when she was watching us play last week, and the word got around.) I told her that I did. She invited me to their bridge session starting at 1:00. I accepted. It was an interesting afternoon (three hours). I had never played with “unknowns’ before. While I looked forward to meeting new people, I was afraid that they might be of tournament caliber. I found later - after playing - that my fear was unfounded . They didn’t play any better than I did. Virginia (who invited me, and heads up the group) told me to sign in and give her a dollar. There were four tables (16 players), and we rotated to another table after three games, playing with a different partner. I still don’t know the process. I just followed instructions.
At the last table where I played, one of our opponents was “George”. He was an interesting player. He didn’t like “No Trump” bids, he liked to cross trump”. Consequently, there was some strange bidding going on. One of the ladies (there were 12 ladies and four men) gave me an early warning. She said “When you play with George, you never know what cards he holds by his bidding.”). While we were playing, there was a break in the action. One of the guys, playing at another table had gone “missing”. He apparently didn’t say anything - just left the table. Apparently, he has Alzheimer’s. Women were looking outside the room for him, one was calling his home phone, but got no answer. George volunteered that “it didn’t mean anything, because he never answers his phone anyway.” While the women were scurrying around looking for him, (they should have peeked into the Mens Room), the guys kept hollering “Let’s play bridge.” About 15 minutes later, the guy strolled in, and all the ladies hollered in unison, ”What happened to you?” He replied, with a smirk,, “I was sitting on the pot”! Bridge continued. Such moments make it easier for me to cope with old age.
About four o’clock I was finished playing and was about to take off, when Virginia looked at my score and suggested that I stick around until the last table finished. “You might have won something”. So, I waited until they finished and Virginia gave me back my $1. I still don’t know what that meant.
I signed the log book agreeing to show up Monday at 1:00, for another bridge session.
RCL - 7/16/09.
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