Wednethday Wa Blog - Of courth, of courth

 From a shop window. Faith in humanity officially restored.

They dubbed her 'Hercules'

You may have read this before. I posted this first in 2009. I am re-running it because today my aunt turns 104.

. . .

My Aunt Lucile just turned 100, which surprised no one in the family, such is her vitality. A childhood spent laboring on her family's farm in Pomona was better than any gym membership. In fact, she got the nickname "Herc" (as in "Hercules") at UCLA because she took down a male friend by wrestling his belt from him and tying his ankles together.

I marvel at the size of her hands even now, bigger than mine, meatier too, a legacy of 100,000 pitchforks full of alfalfa hoisted in her youth, a million apricots picked in the family orchards. She still has all her marbles, too, although she tires easily now, and has had to use a walker since she fell two years ago.

One hundred, though. One hundred years. I guess quitting smoking in her 50's paid off.

The year Aunt Lucile was born, 1909, Mary Pickford made her very first movie. They laid the final brick in the Indianapolis Speedway. President Taft announced that a naval base would be built in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, "to protect the U.S. from Japanese attack."

In 1909, women could not vote. Movies did not talk. Crossword puzzles had not yet been invented. Neither had the bra. The hottest innovation was cellophane. Until Lucile was seven years old, a horse and buggy were the family car.

She and her two older sisters were eventually joined by five younger siblings, my dad being one, and the family's days revolved around their alfalfa fields, peach, apricot and apple orchards, and walnut grove.

One of Lucile's earliest childhood jobs was rising before dawn, milking the family cow, and lugging the pails back into the house. Heavy work. "Herc" was on her way.

Live a century and you have stories to tell. During the Depression, the only job Lucile could find was in the tiny desert town of Goler Gulch, teaching gold miners' kids, grades 1-8, in a one-room shack, and living in a wood-floored tent with only a gas lantern for light. (She later taught in Spokane and 20+ years in Claremont schools).

In 1934 she bought a shiny new Plymouth, with rumble seat, in Detroit, then ran out of gas money on the drive home to California, until she remembered a small gold nugget a miner had given her, which the service station owner weighed before pumping her the equivalent amount of gas.

The things my aunt has seen in a century. The U.S. population tripled. Inventions as mundane as sliced bread, microwave ovens, copy machines and ATMs, and as profound as X-rays, penicillin, the artificial heart and pacemakers.

She has seen the advent of radio, television, computers, the Internet, and mobile phones, jet travel, space flight, not to mention women's rights and racial integration.

The year of my aunt's birth, the NAACP was founded. At age 99, my aunt saw an African-American elected president of the United States.

In my favorite picture of Aunt Lucile, she is in her 20's, smiling fearlessly and standing barefoot on the rump of a moving horse. Then there is Lucile, all glammed up for her college grad photo, hair fanned just so, costume jewelry uncharacteristically at her throat. There is baby Lucile, nuzzling her mother who, 26 years later, would give her grief about the overly-exposed neckline of her wedding dress. And there is Lucile, 100 years old, her tiara proclaiming "Birthday Princess."

What does she do for an encore? Perhaps in 15 years she will be the oldest woman in the world. The doc says she has very strong bones.

Personally, I wouldn't count "Herc" out.

- - - - - - -

Lucile, at left, with her parents and sisters, around Christmas, 1912

Same sisters, Lucile at right, 1915 or so

My dad blaming Lucile for tipping the load, early 1930's

But there is more to life than bailing hay


College grad, early 1930's

With the miners' kids in front of school, Goler Gulch

Aunt Lucile cleans up nice, alongside her new Plymouth, for which she saved delivery charges by buying direct in Detroit, 1934

Teaching school, Spokane, 1950s

School teacher photo, Claremont, 1970s

Big Alaska camping trip with her siblings, 1980s

100th birthday party, July 2009

After being applauded for blowing out the candles on her cake without assistance, Lucile joked "I've got a lot of air."

Wednesday Wa Pics - A visit to the aquarium

Went to the aquarium recently.

Who gets to name fish? And what are they smoking?

Not convictfish? Not zebrafish? Methinks the fish-namer had low blood sugar.

 He sleeps with the fishes.

 

Some ichthyologist had a little fetish.

 I think this is offensive to Mexicans or fish. I can't decide.

 Ah, the ichthyologist's fetish gets even more specific.

 Presented by BP. Too soon?

 When they salute, do they have to shout "Fish! Yes, fish!"

 I think fish-naming would be fun. I am sorry I dropped that class in college in favor of stage makeup.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - 4th of July parade

 Exactly what our founders had in mind.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Eat the RCH

 When I saw this in a parking garage, at first I thought they were really rubbing it in. Of course the Benz is for the rich. Then I realized some guy named Rich probably bought himself one. Either way, it's a dumb idea to leave a car like that unattended, especially when a lot of other drivers, drivers who can't afford this kind of car, tend to keep a lot of those little ketchup packets in their glove compartments in case of an urgent need.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Kablooey edition

Army surplus store in Louisville, shot by my wife on a recent visit.

Wednesday Wa Pic - These lands of ours

 Slogan: "Everything's tastier if it starts off in cursive."

 Little-known area of Disneyland which just didn't pan out.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Moon Pie Misdirection

 I would rather find this Moon Pie in my hand, frankly, where it can reach my mouth. Nice, albeit transparent, attempt to save yourself from consumption, dude.

 

Wednesday Wa Pics - Renaissance Faire

 

 Technically from the Mexican Renaissance period, but O.K.

 Before neon.

 Can you say "locksmith glut"?

 . . .

 

Wednesday Wa Pic - a little Renaissance Faire color

 

 Fair(e) warning.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Clothes make the gal

 If the universe were fair-minded, this would be right next door to Dapper Chap.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Doo Dah Parade edition

I went to the annual Doo Dah Parade in Pasadena Saturday. It's wacky, irreverent and sometimes a bit naughty. But here are a few images I can show you.

They say people start looking like their pets, but wow.

 

 Some guys think nothing of flaunting their muffin top.

 I guess this is what is referred to as a plunger neckline.

 . . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - More than just books

Sunday I went to the annual L.A. Times Festival of Books on the campus of USC. There were hundreds of booths with publishers hawking their wares. Plus other sights.

 

I never did learn mine. Or did I? I promise you this—you will never see me coming.

 Hey, you love who you love.

 Just hope he hasn't had a few too many pints.

 Checkmate.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Renaming for the win!

 Business increased tenfold after changing the name from No Noo Thai Cuisine.

Wednesday Wa Pic - #secretapostrophe

If they put an apostrophe in where it's not needed, who knows what they might put in your hair?

I could be wrong, of course. It could be run by a guy named Secret. But then you have to wonder...what's he hiding?

 #punctuationpolice #misplacedworries #hairennui

Wednesday Wa Pic - Oh baby!

 I swear these are practically next door to each other. Unfortunately, you come upon this first place before you see the second, so I bet a lot of people don't get coverage in time.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Snatch the California roll from my hand

 Awaken...and try the sashimi.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Milk Movie!

 Sure, it's a niche genre of film, but its fans are steadfast. And strong-boned.

Wednesday Wa Pic - tea time

Because if there's one thing I hate, it's the general tightness you find in most teas.

Even in dog years, I am immature

My dog, in dog years, is my age now, which probably explains, on sunny days, his lying naked on the lawn.

I understand the impulse.

The dog and I, we do a lot of the same things now. We build our day around meals, we find butterflies more entrancing than television, and by eight o'clock our eyelids get heavier than the plot of a CSI episode.

Our eyesight, and memory, isn't so great. This week I took an old plastic pony my children had outgrown and put it out at the curb. The dog spied it out the front window, mistaking it for a dog brazenly marking his territory.

He growled and growled at the interloper, despite having, just two minutes before, been on the driveway when I carried the pony past him to the curb.

So I flung open the front door and he bolted out at top speed to confront the infidel. He bounced around for about two seconds like a boxer looking for an opening, and then went "Oh. It's plastic. I was just...uh...coming out to sniff the lawn here. Mmm. That's some fragrant grass, just as I suspected. I'll be going back in now."

When he is happiest, he goes in the back yard and rolls around in his own poop.

We differ in this respect.

But we share the same middle-aged expression, that gaze which says yeah, I've seen a few things, sniffed them too, but it takes a lot to impress me these days. A squirrel, for instance. Or a video of a squirrel.

Unlike me, Skipper still runs like the wind. He does not have that internal self-governor which warns "Careful, you'll rip your Achilles, your knees aren't what they used to be, is your heart really up to this?" No. Squirrel? Boom. Gone. See you after I've shown this varmint who's still got the stuff.

After a bath he races around the house like a dog afire, ripping through the rooms as if attempting to escape cleanliness itself. Like me, there is some puppy in him yet.

I make a unique tsk-tsk sound to alert Skipper to the presence of a squirrel. Even in the house, if I make this sound he will tense, look at me as if to ask "Really? Game on?" and then he will bolt out the doggie door.

I really shouldn't play tricks on a dog his age. But at my age, I get my entertainment where I can.

. . .

Skipper, vigilant for the next plastic interloper