"Playboy magazine" inspires a flood of joyous memories for me! When we came to California, I was lucky enough to find an old orange-grower's one-story, white wooden house. Actually, in Yorba Linda, CA, it was almost identical the the current "Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library, which sits on the grounds of the Richard M. Nixon Elementary School, where my children spent their younger years. This school was so well-endowed, there was no auditorium or cafeteria . In the forever tropical weather, the kids ate out doors at picnic tables. Sea gulls marauded and pillaged their lunches - an unusual source of entertainment and annoyance for most more climate-restricted settings!
We had more than an acre of land around our rented house. I grew artichokes and Chinese melons, snow peas and lima beans. I planted rows and rows of peas, that my daughters ate, fresh in the field, stripping the peas out of the pods with their teeth. We also had fruit trees - tangerine, orange , peach and pomegranate. The pomegranates, in particular, were "boy attractors." That's how I got to know the O'Brien boys. Kevin, Terry and Kelly were being raised by their divorced mother. While she was away at work, they had time on their hands. When the boys began hanging around with me, we soon discovered a mutual interest in spending our days at Newport Beach, on the Pacific Ocean. The way we understood the situation, Kevin, the eldest brother, was our leader. I was the kid in the gang who happened to have "wheels" and a driver's license. "Beach Bums" was our collective occupation, as long as weather permitted.
Sometimes, however, we decided to hang around my house for the day. The garden took a lot of my attention. The boys would just happen to wander inside. After some exploration, they discovered, in the lower left hand drawer of my husband's desk, his cache of Playboys. It was months before I realized that the reason they were so quiet, for hours at a time, was the "Sex Ed" experience they were having, courtesy of Hugh Hefner et al. As it was, I realized that they missed having "a man in their lives." Their school principal would put them in classes with male teachers. They often spoke of their uncle - a Roman Catholic prior, as the closest thing they had to a father. It seems to me that, having access to Playboy, probably helped to put them on more equal grounds with the other boys they knew. Far from being "shocked", I was glad that they had found something that helped to "balance the scales" somewhat in their single-parent situation.
Thank you....whatever the time, whatever the context, your writing, your expression, the picture you paint with words, framed with humor, is such a gift, and I truly feel so fortunate to be "here" - receiving it. From narratives to Writers Almanac, to improvisation on stage, this journey would not be the same without you.
Nice memories. It's nice to have someone you adore even if they sometimes drive you crazy with their nuttiness. Maybe this is what heaven is like.
"Ooh", as British comedian Dick Emery almost said :You are awful, but I like you"! :)
I turned 63 this morning by opening my computer and reading this beautiful message. Goodness…
What a nice year to advance a year! Happy birthday!
"Playboy magazine" inspires a flood of joyous memories for me! When we came to California, I was lucky enough to find an old orange-grower's one-story, white wooden house. Actually, in Yorba Linda, CA, it was almost identical the the current "Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library, which sits on the grounds of the Richard M. Nixon Elementary School, where my children spent their younger years. This school was so well-endowed, there was no auditorium or cafeteria . In the forever tropical weather, the kids ate out doors at picnic tables. Sea gulls marauded and pillaged their lunches - an unusual source of entertainment and annoyance for most more climate-restricted settings!
We had more than an acre of land around our rented house. I grew artichokes and Chinese melons, snow peas and lima beans. I planted rows and rows of peas, that my daughters ate, fresh in the field, stripping the peas out of the pods with their teeth. We also had fruit trees - tangerine, orange , peach and pomegranate. The pomegranates, in particular, were "boy attractors." That's how I got to know the O'Brien boys. Kevin, Terry and Kelly were being raised by their divorced mother. While she was away at work, they had time on their hands. When the boys began hanging around with me, we soon discovered a mutual interest in spending our days at Newport Beach, on the Pacific Ocean. The way we understood the situation, Kevin, the eldest brother, was our leader. I was the kid in the gang who happened to have "wheels" and a driver's license. "Beach Bums" was our collective occupation, as long as weather permitted.
Sometimes, however, we decided to hang around my house for the day. The garden took a lot of my attention. The boys would just happen to wander inside. After some exploration, they discovered, in the lower left hand drawer of my husband's desk, his cache of Playboys. It was months before I realized that the reason they were so quiet, for hours at a time, was the "Sex Ed" experience they were having, courtesy of Hugh Hefner et al. As it was, I realized that they missed having "a man in their lives." Their school principal would put them in classes with male teachers. They often spoke of their uncle - a Roman Catholic prior, as the closest thing they had to a father. It seems to me that, having access to Playboy, probably helped to put them on more equal grounds with the other boys they knew. Far from being "shocked", I was glad that they had found something that helped to "balance the scales" somewhat in their single-parent situation.
Thank you....whatever the time, whatever the context, your writing, your expression, the picture you paint with words, framed with humor, is such a gift, and I truly feel so fortunate to be "here" - receiving it. From narratives to Writers Almanac, to improvisation on stage, this journey would not be the same without you.