Once upon a time, 3 sisters were born. Since they were all redheads, they were given the names of some famous red-headed country-music stars, Reba McEntire, Wynonna Judd and Patty Loveless.
They quickly became part of the family.
While redheads in general are pretty rare – these sisters were destined to become redheads.
They were Rhode Island Reds.
As in chickens.
Filed under Humor, Travel
Posted By Lex, on October 11, 2003 at 2:29 PM
Squatting at the edge of the technology fire, looking in, eyes aglow…
So. Got the new ‘puter two weeks ago, coolest one I could reasonably afford (ed: who’s reason? – Hush). Now what to do with it? Got a good deal on Final Cut Express, which the helpful salesman at CompUSA informed me was a much more powerful tool than the installed iMovie.
It was said in the early 2000s that we were in the golden age of television. At last on the cable channels. Not the big screen, not the networks, but on shows like HBO, Showtime…
If you were a screenwriter, the place to be was here.
Not wanting to spend $150/month out here to get those channels, they passed me by.
But, the good thing is that many of these shows are now available to stream.
Until I was 10 years old, I grew up in Los Angeles through the 1950s, Studio City to be exact. And as you can see, Goodland Avenue is a nice gradual hill that goes up from Ventura Blvd, almost across from the Sportsmen’s Lodge.
Since my family didn’t have a dog (which is almost mandatory for suburbia), that was on the list. My father’s fraternity brother from UCLA (living in Westchester) just happened to raise beagles, and the beagle during the 1950s was the most popular breed from 1953-1959.
It’s probably why Charles Schultz, in starting his comic strip Peanuts, made Snoopy a beagle.
So there I was sitting at the bar in Marfa, Texas at the Hotel Paisano.
This hotel exudes tradition.
Naturally I asked for a Guinness but there was none to be had.
However there was a nice Texas stout – the name of which escapes me.
Marfa, Texas is known as being the shooting location of more than one film.
And the kindness of strangers
I just got back (literally 10 minutes since the Uber driver dropped me off), and she was laughing hysterically at my account of the last 24 hours of my trip to Lake Louise, Banff National Park.
It has been a strange time – well, starting last night.
I’ve gotta laugh.
I think there is a lotta material there.
And this isn’t the first time this has happened.
From time to time, I have mentioned some adventures with my old 1996 Mercedes-Benz SL500, a.k.a. “Gabriella”.
About 6 months ago, I lost her electronic key. Scoured the house. Assumed it fell out of my pocket….somewhere. I became resigned to ordering another from the dealer.
Lately, I have been making daily rounds for someone to an “assisted living center”. At the elevator, I met an old man, hunched over with his walker, on his way to the dining room for dinner.
He was wearing a hat – 101st Airborne – Purple Heart – combat wounded.
I’m thinking – wow.
Band of Brothers.
The following short conversation ensued, with deference to Lex:
YHC = Your Humble Correspondent
YHC: – “Thank you for your service”.
101st: (seeing my Army Air Defense Artillery Hat) – “Thank you for your service”.
YHC: – (Thinking some have given more than others in their service) – “I’ll bet the Germany you saw was a bit different from the Germany I saw in the early 70s”
101st: “Yeah, in 1944 they really didn’t want us around”.
I just took an Uber ride to downtown and as with most of their drivers they are a good conversationalists.
My driver had moved from the Bay Area about a year and a half ago.
I said “I don’t see how you guys can afford to live there”.
He said that he couldn’t. He was making $130,000 a year and eligible for food stamps and section 8 housing.
I guess Manhattan is similar.
About all I have in common with the World War II ace Bud Anderson is that we live in the same vicinity.
The foothills around Sacramento are rife with recent history.
Take a 45 minute drive out to my favorite shooting range and you will see hills left by hydraulic mining, used during the gold rush.
There are dozens of former gold rush towns along California’s Highway 49.
Some of them are near dormant while others are bedroom communities to Sacramento.
A bedroom community of Placerville, just 30 miles or so up the hill from Sacramento, used to be known as Hangtown.
Anyway, Bud Anderson grew up in Newcastle California.