Ch. 43 (A COOKIE for PUPPY GIRL) – Calm Before the Storm^[1]

We wanted to do something fun and invigorating that would remind us of all of our blessings so we decided to plan an outing on Ravae’s ski boat. Unfortunately, the nearest lake that would be suitable for boating was Lake Sonoma, located 150 miles north of our home in San Jose, but within thirty minutes of Rick and Laura’s home in Sonoma, so at least we had a place to stay afterward. Of course, I had already sold our Jeep Cherokee which had always been up to the challenge of pulling the boat, but I was able to jury-rig a temporary boat hitch on our Ford Taurus ‘loaner car’. Ravae packed our belongings and we headed out mid-morning on a warm Friday in early-January, not anticipating snarled commuter traffic that consumed five hours of our afternoon, as we pulled into the parking lot at Lake Sonoma around 3 pm. Ravae got the kids fed and settled down while I prepared the boat for launch, but by the time we were actually on the water, it was 4 pm and we only had about an hour of daylight remaining. I guess that became a non-issue when the twins were so wound up from being couped-up in the car all day, they had no interest in being further confined to the boat, so we turned back around and headed for shore, totally demoralized and beaten down. Fortunately, Rick and Laura had a cold beer waiting for us followed by a wonderful dinner, paired with Malbec Wine, made from the grapes grown in their vineyard nearby.

As the frustration and anxiety from the day melted away, I recall Ravae glancing over at me and knowingly admit that our boating days were over, at least for a few years until the twins were older and we lived closer to a suitable lake. Defeatedly, we hugged and said a tearful goodbye to our boat, but vowed to return to Oswego Lake with a bigger and better boat in the future.

The final decision to sell our waterski boat was made official on the drive home the next day and after some quick research, I learned that Boat Trader Magazine had just launched its online services so I posted an ad on Sunday morning and we already had an interested couple from the Tahoe area who happened to be in the area and wanted to come by and inspect that afternoon. They instantly loved the boat and we agreed on a fair price, but the final sale was contingent on a ‘test drive’. Unfortunately, there were no lakes nearby and the buyers did not have their truck with them so we agreed to meet at the San Luis Reservoir a few days later. The reservoir was a couple hours’ drive (east) from our home and is described as, “A massive off-stream water storage facility in California, covering about 12,700 acres, making it the largest off-stream reservoir in the United States” (“San Luis Reservoir”, 2025). I arrived at the site alone as Ravae had another commitment, met up with the gentleman interested in buying the boat and we quickly launched. There were no other boaters, assuming (wrongly) that it was because we were out on a work day and the weather was overcast and a bit chilly. The buyer and I were having fun as he was zigzagging along a few miles off shore when suddenly, and without warning, the weather changed. I guess if I had done more research, I would have discovered that, “It can get extremely windy, known for powerful, gusty conditions (40+ mph is common, with even higher potential), especially in the afternoons” (“San Luis Reservoir”, 2025). Suddenly, a series of huge waves hit the front of the open-hull boat and we were quickly becoming overwhelmed with water, as the bilge pump was no match for this storm. We could barely see through the blinding rain but I quickly took back control of the boat and raced toward shore as fast as I could drive, but the swells were 4-6 feet high so I had to navigate through the maze without flipping the vessel. When we finally reached the shoreline, there was no time to line the boat back on to the trailer so I ran it up on to a sandy beach and waited for the storm to pass.

In reflection, we are fortunate that both of us were strong swimmers but we could have easily drowned if the boat had capsized in the middle of the reservoir so I was GRATEFUL to be alive. As we slowly got the boat back on to the trailer and drained the remaining water from the bilge, I asked the guy if he still wanted to buy the boat, at which point he looked at me and asked if I would consider a discount for swamping the engine and nearly drowning us, but before I could answer he smiled, handed me a cashier’s check and took possession of the boat (and title). I never saw or heard from him again so I assume all went well on his end.

__________

““San Luis Reservoir” (2025, August 18). In Wikipedia. Retrieved from San Luis Reservoir [URL].

---

^[1]Disclaimer: This excerpt and corresponding writing sample display some color but the actual book is in black and white.

Ch. 49 (A TURD in THE PICKLE JAR) – Doing Time in Disneyland Jail^[1]

Finally, summer (1968) arrived and my friend and I were loaded on to a chartered Greyhound bus with other lucky newspaper boys and made the 18-hour trip south to the Los Angeles area. Spending an entire night on the bus was fun at first, but it soon grew tiresome and the final hours were absolutely miserable as we finally met up with almost 50 busloads of paperboys that next morning at a destination just north of L.A. Of course, not all of the buses arrived at the same time so our bizarre excursion for the day was to visit the Forest Lawn Memorial Cemetery in Glendale, “A 300-acre plot of land, founded in 1906, with more than 300,000 tombstones or other, more prominent memorials” (“Forest Lawn Memorial Park”, 2025). We were all flabbergasted that a more suitable location couldn’t have been identified for a couple thousand pre-pubescent boys, but that was the day’s plan. Finally, in the late-afternoon we completed the drive to Disneyland, and checked into the Grand Hotel, a resort that sat adjacent to the amusement park. In fact, it was surrounded by an enormous parking lot for park attendees, and now it is the current site of Disneyland’s sister theme park, California Adventure. We were packed four to a room, and still, our group filled the entire hotel. Dinner was brought in to a large banquet hall that evening, as was the next morning’s breakfast, and I still remember our first evening, sitting outside by the pool watching the end-of-the-evening’s fireworks show next door. 

            It was exciting to collect our book of ride-tickets for our first of three days in the park, and much to my surprise, we were not given a chaperone, instead, we just needed to be back at the hotel before midnight for bed-check. Neither of us had ever been to the park so after we arrived, we visited the shops on Main Street, and I was excited about the new magic kit I had just purchased. Our very first ride was the Skyway, an aerial-ride on gondolas that traversed the park on cables and was a chance to figure out where all the cool rides were located from above. Unfortunately, I would never have predicted that my buddy decided it was OK to spit on the park goers below, in spite of my strong objections, so by the time we reached the end of the ride, security was waiting for us. One of the guards grabbed my friend and the other grabbed me, and although I tried to explain that I was not involved, my so-called friend lied by claiming that I was spitting also. They escorted us to a building near the front of the park, put us in a room with two chairs but no windows for the next four hours and left us alone after telling us that our park tickets would be revoked for the remainder of our trip and that our parents had been notified. I was so upset, knowing that the trip was ruined and that I was in big trouble when we returned home. Finally, we were released to one of our newspaper group’s organizers and taken back to the hotel, and told that as long as we stayed on the hotel property for the next two days, we wouldn’t receive any additional punishment. Luckily, it turned out they were bluffing as our passes were reinstated the next morning at breakfast, and we were ‘good to go’ for the next two days in Disneyland.

 In reflection, there actually is a Disney Jail and it is located on Main Street on the second floor of a Confectionary, across from the Opera House, who knew? It doesn’t have traditional holding cells, rather it exists to scare the heck out of kids like us, and it worked. I guess doing ‘hard-time’ for those few hours allowed me to really appreciate the two remaining days, as we had the time of our life in the park and then again, the following day at another famous amusement park across town known as Knott’s Berry Farm. My parents had NOT been notified of my so-called indiscretion, so when the bus finally returned to Roseburg and my parents were there to retrieve me, the district boss appeared and informed me that I needed to explain to my folks what had happened. I was almost in tears, anticipating their reaction when suddenly both Mom and Dad burst out laughing, and soon the district boss was also howling in laughter. Dad gave me a big hug, and told me a story of being thrown in the ‘brig’ one night in Paris just following V-E (Victory in Europe) Day at the end of World War II. We were forever bonded as fellow criminals who paid our debt to society and the story remains one of the most humorous of my life. 

            However, the emotion that seemed to resonate most was my overwhelming sense of GRATITUDE toward those who had the confidence in me to trust that I could handle the responsibilities bestowed upon me. First, although barely twelve years of age, I had successfully earned a job that required me to work seven days per week running my own business, that included complete responsibility for the operations, customer service, sales and financial aspects. In the process, I had earned and successfully navigated a journey to southern California with barely any adult supervision, and managed to problem-solve my way out of a difficult situation, returning home with the confidence that I could accomplish anything that I put my heart into. That said, I keep coming back to just how different parenting is now from when we were kids fifty years ago, and it is sad that the freedom and opportunity to take trips like I did to Disneyland and YMCA Camp without immediate supervision is rare. Nowadays, parents attend virtually all of their children’s activities and would never even consider allowing their ten-year-old child to deliver newspapers alone in the dead of night, or work in a bean field outside of town. As a result, I am honored to offer a special thank you to my district boss who not only hired and trained me, but also opened my eyes to the world of entrepreneurship.

As such, I am pleased to present him with a Cookie for Puppy Girl Award^[2] for his faith in me. Also, again for the record, I never spit off of the Skyway, I was framed by that same friend that I sold extra newspaper subscriptions for so he could go on the trip, too. However, I do understand how scared he must have been to pull me into the fray so he wouldn’t have to go it alone. As a result, I am going to resist giving him a Turd in the Pickle Jar Award for his betrayal!

__________

“Forest Lawn Memorial Park (Glendale)” (2025, May 27). In Wikipedia. Retrieved from Forest Lawn Memorial Park [URL].

---

^[1]Disclaimer: This excerpt and corresponding writing sample display some color but the actual book is in black and white.

^[2] Inspired by and awarded to those special individuals who show kindness toward others without expecting anything in return. Note that this image uses color whereas the actual memoir is in black and white.