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Palomar Observatory

Friday, October 25, 2019

Things I miss

I was running through some of the things I used to be able to get, ingest, view or peruse that are no longer available to me. Here is a very short list that I will expand upon as new things come to mind:

Pine Brothers cough drops, the soft ones that tasted like candy. Breyers peach ice cream like they made it in the seventies, with the big chunks of peaches. Wintergreen lifesavers, the kind that sparked up in your mouth before they changed the formula. Sleeping with and breaking in a new baseball mitt with neatsfoot oil. Chicken Delight, the broasted southern California chicken of my childhood that was made in waist high drums and tasted so unique. Jack Kirby. Calvin and Hobbes. Mom's stroganoff. Winterland. Rube's Market. The fresh smell of the sheets Anne Marshall hung up on her clothesline in East Hampton. Huntley Brinkley. Arthur Lee. Sugar daddies melting and stretching in the hot west Texas sun. Hung Gar. Mrs. Gershon, the teacher who taught me how to read. Three flies out. Shooting the hawk's nest. Gene Clark. Throwing dirt clods at trains. Good kaiser rolls and salt sticks. Captain Kangaroo and Fractured Fairy Tales. John Lennon. Spitting for distance. The waterslide at the Grand Hyatt in Poipu. Sweet watermelon, they don't pick them at the right time anymore, haven't had a decent one in years. Steve Marriott. Corn fritters. Juggling and frisbee. Jonathan Winters. Wall diving in the Cayman Islands. Chick Hearn. Soul Train. Eva Cassidy. Robert Anton Wilson. The old Papaya King hot dogs. Fudgesicles for a nickel. Tom Terrific. Durwood Kirby. Garagiola and Kubek. The Far Side. Blumers Deli. Playing black jack with my pop at the Sahara. Mother's Oats Comix. Midnight watermelon theft in Carlsbad (the stolen ones are sweeter). China Cat Sunflower. Bob Mcallister. Santa Marta Red. Stewarts draft cola. La Paloma Bookstore. And Esmeralda in Del Mar too. Hilly Rose. Fireball XL5. Sandy Denny. Ralphie Valaderes. Wax bottle candy. Ralph Kiner. Fallen maple leaves in the autumn. Smell of chestnuts on 59th st. Bob Dale. Scoring soccer goals. Gene Wilder. Grandma's seven layer rum cake. Allison Steele.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Im unapologetically nostalgic. I drive my kids crazy with stories of how great it was to grow up in north San Diego county in the 70's. Lazy beach towns, surfing, avocado groves occasional trips up north to Winterland. Amazing groovy vibe and low hanging fruit everywhere. We were lucky to have landed there, you and me. I remember one night I caught you walking up the steps into the Civic Center in San Francisco. The second set was just beginning and the Grateful Dead started to play China Cat Sunflower. You were so happy. I actually remember this very well because you were wearing a sport coat jacket which is something you dont see see too much at dead shows. Anyway at that very moment you opened up your jacket and you had a tooth brush in the inside breast pocket. It seemed like thats all that you had and needed. We traveled fast and light back then. Ha! I think it was December 28, 1983. I looked it up in Deadbase.

bv

Blue Heron said...

I went through a short haired, business suit period. Always had to be different. People thought I was a narc probably. Something about China Cat always made me smile. Great memories.