Author Archive

Hair

Saturday, March 12th, 2011

There was a time very early in my life when I had a good healthy head of natural hair. It seems almost preposterous that I would even think about this now, but it all came back to me when I recently came across a photograph of myself taken shortly before graduation from high school. There I was – young, handsome, clear skin, innocent, and yes – hairy. It’s almost hard to believe that in the 60’s, I was considered a rebel sporting my “surfer hair.”
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In the late 1960’s, I grew curly locks down over my ears to celebrate the hippie craze, but it wasn’t long after that that I started noticing a reckless thinning across the summit region of my forehead. For a while I did the comb-over method, involving displacing strands of hair in a futile attempt of homemade transplant therapy. If it wasn’t windy or I didn’t make any sudden moves, I could camouflage the balding area quite well. Eventually, however, most of my hair just gave up the will to live.

I never liked the way I looked when I lost my hair. Some men with small noses and round little faces look good bald, but I have prominent German features that don’t compliment baldness very well. I even tried to shave my head – the accepted fad today – but everyone said I looked like one of the Munsters. I guess I should have been OK with the fact that I was bald, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I looked goofy.

For a few years I always wore a hat. My work was mostly outside – farming, logging, and carpentry – so it fit right in with my occupation. Even danger had its rewards with the addition of a hard hat to my apparel. I felt comfortable with a hat on; it became a part of me and I a part of it. My hat protected my delicate head from sunburn and shaded my eyes. It would keep pesky insects from biting and add a bit of warmth on a cold day. I would sooner leave the house without my pants on (I don’t think I ever did that!) than without my hat.

And then I entered a period of my life where I knew I needed a change. The kids were getting involved in school and I would be attending concerts, plays and all kinds of parent activities. I wanted to take some classes at the local college, and I was training for an office job at work. All these activities suggested that I carry a code of conduct and dress that conformed to something normal. I either had to get over my self-consciousness about my baldness, or go to the dark side of deception.

There’s nothing wrong with a little deceit and deception – we all do it. We color our hair, paint our faces, replace glasses with contacts, shave our heads, wear uncomfortable shoes and clothes for style, drive pretty vehicles, wear wigs, and get implants. Please don’t tell me you don’t care what you look like. We all want a little admiration.

I hadn’t worn my hairpiece for many months and decided to put it on for Daryl’s birthday dinner. It was more of a joke than anything, and I was interested in how everyone would react. The wig was made many years ago and it really doesn’t go with my face anymore, but someone that didn’t know me, wouldn’t realize it’s not real. The reaction I got from everyone was all over the place. I guess the point I’m trying to make is this: We perceive ourselves a lot different than other people do and appearance is a mystical thing.

These are the reactions I got from everyone. See if you can figure out who you are: One person was shocked. One person had a sarcastic smile. One person was surprised. One person said, “What do you want to wear THAT thing for.” One person said, “Wow, it makes you look younger!” One person was disappointed because I didn’t look as much like Dad.
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I Don’t Get It!

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Every once in a while, someone will ask me about the title of my blog. I get that same look you get when a dog tips his head, and they ask, “What does it mean ‘Searching for Bronson’?” I’ve been thinking of changing the title again just to keep everyone guessing, but before I do, I thought I’d explain why I chose it.

In the late 60’s, there was a TV show called, “Then Came Bronson.” It starred Michael Parks as Jim Bronson, a loner that rides a motorcycle across the country trying to renew his soul. The show opens with tragedy as he loses a friend to suicide. Faced with the dilemma of continuing on in his executive lifestyle, living the corporate dream of climbing the ladder to success, and kissing a few behinds to get there, he decides to drop out and become a vagabond of sorts. His travels take him to different areas of the west where he imparts his values and morals to a lot of mixed up people. Most of the time – it seemed to me – it involved a pretty girl in some way or another.

I’m not sure if he ever found the meaning of life in all of his travels (the show only lasted two seasons), but I would have liked to ask him. Back east, I used to run with deer in the meadows at night, and it was probably just as enlightening as searching for Bronson. Who knew?

Big Sur and Hearst Castle

Saturday, February 5th, 2011

On Wednesday, Richard, Dianna, and I loaded my van with the bed for Carrie, pictures for Nancy (Dianna’s cousins), and keepsakes to store in there truck, and drove to Bakersfield.  The weather in Bakersfield was a lot colder than what I’ve been used to the last couple of weeks. It went down below freezing in the night. 

The next day we drove to Carrie’s home in Turlock. Dianna and Carrie went for a walk while Richard and I went to meet Carrie’s brother, Mike. I enjoyed talking to Mike and learning about nut farming. He’s a pretty cool guy. 

Carrie is a sweetheart. She and Dianna made a special dinner while Dick and I built a fire. There was wonderful conversation later that night as we sat around the fire, periodically snacking on maple sugar and bourbon balls. I’m so glad that I got to meet her. Bless her heart for letting me stay. 

The next morning, Dianna and Carrie went to breakfast with her dad. At 10:00 Carrie left for work and we said goodbye. Richard and I spent a couple of hours at the Castle Air Museum, while Dianna, feeling a little under the weather, sat in the car and read. We ate lunch at McDonalds, and said goodbye as they drove back home and I went towards the coast. 
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It was hard to say goodbye. I’ve had such a wonderful time reconnecting with my brother. He is right that it seems like we’ve never been apart.  After a teary goodbye, I drove until I was just outside Salinas, CA, where I spent the night. The next morning I discovered that Monterey has a wonderful bile trail all the way around the bay, winding through historical places like Cannery Row and Fisherman’s Wharf. I rode for several miles taking in the sights until half the day was gone. 

My afternoon was filled with truly spectacular scenery as I drove down Highway 1. I stopped many times along the road through Big Sur to marvel at the beauty of the ocean where it meets the land. I could watch for hours as the surf pounds into the rocky cliffs, sending plumes of water high into the air. 
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I spent the night at San Simeon State Park, and bright-n-early the next morning, drove to Hearst Castle. Imagine if you will a mansion built high on a mountain, and in every direction some 300,000 acres of prime real-estate,  overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and you will have some idea of the location of Hearst Castle. Now imagine that you can spend all the money you can dream of to build it, and you wouldn’t even be close to what’s there. Ornate fixtures, paintings, tapestries, and sculptures from all over the world. Gold inlay throughout, even at the bottom of the pool. It is no wonder all the movie stars of the 30’s-40’s-50’s, loved to go there. 
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William Randolph Hearst was a fascinating man. I liken his ambition to build this mansion to the Egyptian Pharaohs building pyramids. And even all his money didn’t guarantee happiness in love. For most of his later life he kept a mistress some 30 years younger in age (Wait a minute…). 

From Hearst Castle it was only a short drive to Arroyo Grande, to deliver the remaining treasures to Nancy. It was nice to meet Nancy and we had a nice visit before I left to continue my pilgrimage. Tomorrow I will find a place to walk in the ocean, just to make sure it is real; I need to touch it before I leave. 
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California Dreamin’

Friday, February 4th, 2011

Not long after I arrived in Southern California, it became crystal clear why so many people live here. While every other part of the country lay buried under snow, suffered from ice and wind, or shivered from the cold, the LA area basked in warm sunshine. I have a hard time realizing it is January and February. 

I’ve had a great time here. To reconnect with my brothers fills me with such warmth, I can not tell you how good it has been. I met with Don and Betty on Sunday and we enjoyed breakfast together at one of their favorite places. Afterwards, we stopped at 24Hr Fitness where Michele, Betty’s daughter works so that I could say goodbye to her.   It was cool and rainy that morning so I recommended we take in a movie. I had seen True Grit before, but it is so good I wanted to see it again.  I tried to get Betty to close her eyes in one part of the movie but it was too late. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes popped out as one of the outlaws got his fingers chopped off. It was a fun time we spent together and a sad goodbye when I left. When we got back to Don’s, Jennifer and Patrick were there, so I got to say goodbye to them, too. 

Richard, Dianna, and I had made plans to visit Griffith Observatory that evening, but the weather was dreary and we thought we would have to cancel. As the afternoon rolled around, the sun came out and the clouds broke apart, inviting us to see yet one more attraction. 

We met Diannas sister, Julie, and her friend Ron just before dusk at the entrance of the observatory. From the top of Griffith Park, the lights of LA were just spectacular. A cool front associated with the weather brought crystal clear air that made the city sparkle. We watched a fascinating movie about our universe projected on a dome screen surrounding the theatre. The laser projector used in the theatre is state-of-the-art, displaying a phenomenal, realistic picture.  As you recline in your seat, it feels like your right inside the movie. 
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There were all sorts of displays about astronomical things scattered throughout the building, and it seemed that Richard knew an awfully lot more about them than the rest of us did. He did concede, however, that Daryl might be able to correct him on some points.

After the observatory, we all ate at an Italian restaurant, recommended by staff at Griffith. Then it was time to leave and we said goodbye to Julie and Ron. Over the last few
weeks I’ve come to know Julie quite well. Through these hard times, I’ve moved furniture for her, worked with her through the yard sale, and enjoyed her company when we all went out to eat. She is a very special friend and I will miss her a lot. 
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Between Richard, Dianna, and Julie, I could not pay for a thing. They bought me gas, took me to expensive restaurants, and Dianna fixed home cooked meals every night. Helping with moving and using my van was something I would have been happy to give, but every time I tried to pay for something, Dick would pull the bill away and say, “Your Money Is NO GOOD In California!”.

Right now I’m at a campground somewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway. This is turning out to be one of the most awesomely beautiful trips I’ve ever been on, and I will tell you about it in the next post, undoubtedly by the length of this post, more than you want to know. 

Long Beach Remembered

Friday, January 28th, 2011

On Tuesday Jan 21, Richard, Dianna, and I drove to Long Beach, California. The plan was to visit the old neighborhood where, some forty years ago, we lived, worked, and went to school. I was hoping a drive through town would jog memories of bygone days of my youth.

Things sure change a lot in forty years. I remembered the names of streets I used to tool around on in my old Volkswagen beetle, remembered the place I used to work at, remembered the landmark of Signal Hill, and vaguely recall a place I used to eat. But there was so much unfamiliar to me, most of the time I could have been on another planet.

My brother is a super tour guide. As we wove through the streets of Long Beach, Dick pointed out points of interest and changes to the area. We passed by General Valve where we both used to work. I remembered some of the characters I met while working in the shipping area. The college I attended for a short while is no longer there, instead a housing development of run down buildings. The whole neighborhood seemed seedy, not even safe to walk through anymore.

The one bright spot in a community forgotten in progress was Signal Hill. Dick and I used to cruise up and down the twisting, steep, hairpin turns that characterized the dirty, oil field sloaps of Signal Hill. I’m not quite sure what the attraction was for driving up there except for the fact you could see the city lights below and scare girls with a roller-coaster type drop on the other side, but we were always going up there. Now the hill is built up with modern townhouses, beautiful roads, and a park on top with walking trails along the ridge. It’s really quite nice and we spent part of the afternoon strolling along the pathways, reading signs about the history of the oil fields and enjoying the views. Dianna prodded Dick and I into taking an extended hike all the way around the top of the hill. It felt good to walk.

After lunch at a nostalgic burger joint, ( everything was smothered in chili) we drove to the Queen Mary and signed up for all the tours. For the next five hours we ducked through hatches and compartments on a Russian submarine, climbed through five decks on a magnificent ocean liner, and learned the history of a cruise ship turned troup carrier during WWII.
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Later that evening, we found a nice restaurant on the waterfront where we had tacos and drinks, and then strolled through some shops where Dianna found a cute hat. Dick steered us next to an ice-cream shop where we sat on a bench, licking our cones, gazing across the water at the mesmerizing lights of the Queen Mary. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.
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My brother and sister-in-law are so good to me. We had a wonderful time. Thank you Richard and Dianna for a beautiful day. I love you both.