FUN IN THE SUN BACK IN 1948

The giant Ferris wheel on the pier at Santa Monica beach has been transported to Oklahoma City Okla. It looks so said out there in the pasture by the Oklahoma river, even though the river has become a major entertainment center in the capitol city.

I knew that ferris wheel when I was just a child. Loved the waves hitting my feet. I used to like to get out farther, until that day that Phil had to rescue me because the waves got too high and I couldn't come up for air.

Mom would take us to a day long swim or nap or sand castles and for lunch. Here's some of the thngs I  put into the book  that will explain what we did way back in 1948.

     Lots of things happened in those days. I learned to ride a bicycle. I remember the food. We found peanut butter in the deli area of the butcher shop. It looked good. The meat man brought it out of the cooler, so we could smell it. It smelled just like peanuts. Yummm, he gave us a slice to try. Was it DRY? That is not the half of it. First bite --- it took my breath away. Literally! Mom even had to blow into my mouth, so I could get some air. WAY too much for one bite.

     Speaking of food, we had wonderful Asian, awesome Mexican, mom’s homemade apricot jam, milk with lots of cream. Mom’s Chow Mein. And her pies! The ease with which she made pie crust. She made coconut crème, apple, strawberry, lemon, pumpkin and I don’t know how many more. All were good, and all were homemade. Mom let me watch her cook—up to a point. She would put me onto the counter and I would “help” by putting the used spoons and bowls into the sink. I got to wash them too. I couldn’t use the stove because it was too tall for me to even get close to. I watched, and I learned how to cook. Just so you know it’s extremely easy to make pie crust when you do it mom’s way.

     One night we were going to the Grauman Chinese theater to see a new movie. We had dinner at the Asian restaurant adjacent to the theater. I love Asian. Those awesome scents in the air—garlic, ginger, soy - I loved it all. I also like to try new things to eat and when dad got his soup I wanted some too. It smelled sooo good. A cute spoon and wonderful aroma. When I looked into the bowl there were three green peas. Dad told me it was “bird’s nest soup.” And, of course, you know it, I had to say loudly, “bird’s nest?” But I did finally eat it and it was the best soup I’ve ever had.

     To be truthful I have forgotten the exact year that all this happened. We were at war and having to recycle newspapers and glass—planes in the air and submarines in the water. Recycling cans, and bottles--each color had to be put it a separate container—cans that had to be clean and smashed and      the top put inside. Newspapers had to be tied up with string, and the other paper was tied up too. We had the blackout curtains and we had an earthquake that moved the piano from one end of the living room to the other. Mom at four feet eleven and me shorter than that moved that piano back into place. And that means that the sequence of these goings on are probably not in order—but everything happened as I am writing.

      Summer time meant food and ocean. Santa Monica Beach. I can hear the waves pounding into the sand, I can smell the water filled with salt and seaweed. I can see the very tall Ferris Wheel that protruded out into the ocean as you would start down from the very high top. The sun beating down on us as we took our naps. Phil probably didn’t take a nap being almost four years older than me.

    I remember the lunches mom brought for us. Celery, carrots, bread, fruit, water in a jar, and boiled eggs.

     Have you ever eaten a boiled egg while the wind was blowing sand into everything? Eggs included!!

     Boiled eggs are not bad. I have them a lot. In fact, I really like boiled eggs. I just don’t like my boiled eggs with sand. Not good---at all.

     When you’re five or six and you go to the beach for the day, it’s so soothing. Living in wartime is stressful—especially for kids. The wind was blowing so I put that first egg into my mouth—egg yolk and all—I couldn’t breathe. I finally got that yolk out and looked down to my plate and there it was. Another egg. I knew I couldn’t go through that clogged airwave again. So, I thought about it and decided to take care of those eggs for good. I buried those hummers in the sand. As far as I could get them to go, I pushed and pushed and finally I couldn’t see any yolk. I didn’t want to hurt mom’s feelings. I couldn’t NOT eat the egg. But the little children on the other side of the world who didn’t have enough to eat would really like those boiled eggs. To eat. Sand and all!!! I didn’t care because I had found a way to get rid of those lethal egg yolks. Without mom’s feelings getting hurt.

     I’ve often wondered what happened to those yokes.

     Another wondering was this. Did mom ever know that I buried those sandy things?