Skates through the years--

My first pair of skates were hand-me-downs. Wheeled metal grips that clamped to the sides of my sneakers. They were tightened with a skate key.  They were difficult to skate in. I don't know if it was because I was in kindergarten when I had them or if they were just a bad design. I'm thinking the latter...

My second pair of skates were a variation on these sort of patriotic-looking things. There were two color motifs put out by this company, from what I recall. The white boot with red and blue accents and a blue boot with red and white accents. I had the blue boot skates for a time. I don't know what happened to them.

At Valle Vista, Hayward, CA. 1981

That's me in the above photo skating with a lolly-pop in my mouth. My buddy, Danny, is there in the foreground. I'm rolling on my third pair of skates. A white leather boot with bright orange wheels and a really fat stopper. I skated around on those bad boys for the my entire adolescence.


I just recently picked up these teal beauties at a local skate shop--





The suede boot still needs to be broken in a bit. My ankle bone is none too happy after a long session around the park.

The wheels are a bit wider then what I'm used to, so I switched them out for a narrower pair lifted from my old skates. So far, so good.

Orchids and Onions

Lest you think I'm really that clever, I should tell you that the name of this blog was lifted directly from a list appearing in my junior high yearbook. This annual list, Orchids and Onions, chronicled all that had transpired the during the school year, good or bad. 

I have really vague memories about what we teeny-boppers found to be both tolerable and intolerable during my one-year stint at this particular school, but I do remember the format of the page. 

It looked a bit like this: 

Orchids to...
Onions to...
Orchids to...
Onions to...

It was repetitive, but it did the trick. 

So, in true junior high fashion, I'll share what's been going on with me here--

Orchids to...passing my Japanese course with flying colors.

Onions to...regularly recurring body pain from my cleaning job.

For a bit of comic relief, below is a picture of me from that time period. I'm at my best friend Kathy's house. 

Note the blurry pictures of rock-n-rollers in the background taken from the pages of Cream and Circus magazines. We liked to rock. :)

Rancho Arroyo

Our junior high school, Rancho Arroyo, had a sort of selection of stapled together hand-outs that acted as our school newsletter. Horoscopes, included in the hand-outs, were doled out yearly. Yesterday, I was looking through old papers and found one such newsletter with horoscope. My star sign is Cancer. The attendant notation is mine. I hadn't seen this jr high gem in decades, and burst out laughing when I did. I was either 11 or 12 when I wrote the above notation. I was a salty kid living in a tough neighborhood during this time. -out of the pens of babes...

Eight wheels good.

Back in the 80s, when roller rinks were still en vogue, my friends and I skated away our weekend nights. We'd show up to the rink in our teenie-bopper uniform: tight tops and jeans, hair feathered to the max, eyelids marked with pink and grey eye shadow, and a dab of Jovan musk behind the ear.

The music of the day was rock. We skated to the likes of Journey, REO Speedwagon, Ozzy, Judas Priest, etc. I think Ozzy was actually reserved for ladies' fast skate where we girls would skate like mad around the rink either until the song was over or we rolled off the floor.

I recall once my middle school hosted a skate party at our local rink, Valle Vista, in Hayward, CA. A friend and I were photographed that year for the school year book. My feathered hair was a little bit droopy that day, but I was rocking a lavender London Fog jacket and a jersey with an image of a unicorn on the front, so I was feeling pretty cool. Alas, Valle Vista closed in 2003 & a fire gutted the building in 2008. The year book from '82 is also gone, so there is no photographic evidence to back my assertion of how fly I looked. Instead, I offer you the 2017 version of that girl still skate crazy, if however, a little less suave on wheels.

Already looking rather forlorn...

Me, lacing up for a quick skate around Old Oakland

Remains of Valle Vista

I bought the skates in the photo in Bayswater, London at a joint called London Skate Centre about four years ago. There was a local skating event at a bar (yes, alcohol & skates were a bad combo, thanks for asking) that I had wanted to attend, so with the help of Yelp I found the skate shop. Since 2013, I've worn these skates a total of five times. The last two skate outings took place in Golden Gate Park.

The Church of 8 Wheels, a local skate organization offering roller boogie nights at a church here in town, also puts on a wee spread Sundays in the park. A gaggle of us joined in a few weeks back. I was thrilled to be skating again & in such nice surroundings as the park. There was a sound system playing funky tunes, a host of costumed participants, and those of us in 'civilian' gear. Both inline and quad skaters were welcome. It was a joyous scene, to be sure.

Valle Vista, skate rink extraordinaire of yore, used to host skating competitions. This clip shows the beauty of quad skating. Of course, then as now, I could barely do a fourth of what this young girl was capable of. I'm lucky if I can still skate backwards in a straight line, but darn it, I'm going to keep at it!

Vancity visit

The hubs and I took our second trip to Vancouver this past July. We were there in December last year for the first time & loved it. The summer trip was all that plus warm weather and more day light. The best part of the visit was being able to spend a lot of time by the water. Our digs were near the harbour, so everyday included a stroll/jog/what-not past the marina & down into Stanley Park.

Fave apartment building in Vancouver, Stanley Park adjacent

Orderly queue for the bus

Vancouver seems to me to be the city, to a degree, that San Fran wishes it were. Or maybe SF doesn't want better public transport, exceptionally user-friendly bike lanes, and really excellent coffee shops? Living here, it's sometimes hard to tell. The one thing these two cities do have in common are extortionately high housing prices due to a proliferation of foreign investment. Like San Francisco, Vancouver is a great place to visit, but hardly affordable as a place to live.

Mr. Vancouver

At the mid-century modern shop on Commercial

The above mirror may not be really photo-worthy, but there's a story here. After the divorce of my parents in '78, my mother & I moved about a mile away from the family home into a dingy apartment. Mom decorated the apartment with hand-me-downs from friends & items found in second-hand shops & made it cosy as she could. The above mirror is exactly the same one we had in our little apartment. It hung in the kitchen, if I recall correctly. The only difference between the one in Vancouver and ours is the frame. Ours was wooden. Upon my moving out of the house in 1990, my mother gave me the mirror to decorate my own flat with. Sadly, in 2013, I inadvertently ruined the forest decal by cleaning the glass with a water-vinegar solution & wound up tossing the thing out. It was great to see 'my' mirror again, and so far away from home.

Kathy

Kathy on the left, a girl called Carolyn in the middle, and me on the right. 

It's only fitting that I listen to Ozzy while writing this post.

*cues Mr Crowley*

Our hero, Randy Rhoads & his polka dot Flying V

I first met Kathy around the time that the top picture was taken.  Kathy's friend, Carolyn, is sitting in between us. We were taking Polaroids with somebody's camera during lunch period & this blurry snap was one of the results.

Kathy and I became fast friends in 7th grade. I don't know if we had had a class together or friends in common. What I do know is that when we met we clicked. Kathy and I spent most of our free time together. Most weekends involved going to the mall, the video arcade, and the midnight movies. If we weren't hanging out, then we were glued to the telephone talking to each other for hours on end. My Mom got sick of my always being on the phone and instituted measures. Setting the kitchen timer and placing it by the phone she'd say, 'You have 45 minutes and that's it!' The timer buzzing rudely meant I had to hang up. When it was time for Kathy to get off the phone, her Mom would go out to the garage where Kathy stood talking into the phone receiver and yell at her.

Our second home for a time

We were in sync the way most young girls seem to be at the onset of puberty. We wore matching clothes; polka dots, leopard print, and checker board motifs ruled the day. Kathy, using a toothpick, developed a technique that resulted in being able to paint our nails in excellent checker board and polka dot patterns. And, as it was the early 80s, we shared a love of wearing tons of pink and grey eye-shadow and pitch black eyeliner. We also went through lots and lots of Aqua Net. Those feathers weren't going to hold themselves up!

Kathy, Xmas 1982/3

Kathy married in 1994, and, eventually, moved to Las Vegas to start a family. I continued living in the Bay Area, and, until my 40th year, stayed mostly single. Kathy and I kept in contact via telephone and social media, save for the very occasional visit. Ours was the sort of friendship that even if we hadn't talked for a while we could pick up where we left off.

Kathy, gettin' hitched

Kathy was smart, funny, driven, and loved her family deeply. Her absence leaves a hole that can't be filled.

-miss you always, buddy. x

Me and Kathy in SF, 2009

The memorial.

Danny's memorial was packed out.  The pastor made mention of the fact that most services she officiates are rarely as well attended.  She said it was 'a testament that he was loved by many'.  She also joked that she was glad not all of Danny's 1000 plus social media-connected friends decided to show up as it could have been a fire hazard.

I stood in the crowd at the back of the hall; many of us were spilling out onto the pavement as there was no more room inside.  I didn't mind standing even though the service lasted for two and a half hours and I had to continually press myself up against the wall so that folk needing the loo could squeeze by me.

I hadn't actually been to a memorial since my grandmother died in 1997.  Hers was hijacked by my JW Aunt who sang a creaky song about her mother having accepted Jehova into her heart while on her deathbed (and suffering the ravages of Alzheimer's).  Grandma was an Irish Catholic and remained so her whole life.  Aunt Babe stormed out in a huff.

Friends and family spoke so thoughtfully and emotionally about Dan.  I felt lucky to have been able to hear their stories.  We heard how Dan was generous with his time and his talents, mentoring film students at a local college on his own dime.  One friend spoke of how Dan came and lived with him while he was severely incapacitated by a bad break-up.  For six months, Dan was a 'surrogate Dad' to his buddy's children.

Weeks before he died, Dan had just gotten his 'dream job' editing film.  And he was in a loving relationship with a woman described as 'his angel'.  He was the happiest he'd ever been.  It's good to know that when he died he was well, emotionally.  Would that his physical health could have been equally solid.

It's hard to imagine that he's gone.  The pastor said 'it was his time', but I can't help feeling that Danny had been cheated out of a few more good years, at least.   

Dan the Man.

Midnight Movies=Teenage Wonderland

Columbo with Lee Grant's character flying them 'round.

While wasting time in front of the 'boob tube' last night for hours on end I went through a Leipziger Tatort, an episode of Colombo starring the impeccable Lee Grant, and, astoundingly, after so many years, Heavy Metal.  To the uninitiated: I'm not talkin' about the musical genre, although the music figures into it, but the animated film of the same name.  I hadn't watched HM since the 80s, but, as soon as I saw the graphics and heard, of course, the music, I knew what it was. 

Films that I associate with a certain time, a certain place, and, mostly, a certain music are:

Heavy Metal
Pink Floyd's The Wall
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
The Song Remains The Same 
And, A Nightmare On Elm Street, to a degree, because I think I might have been tripping on hallucinogens during the midnight screening.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Song Remains The Same were made in the mid-70s; the other three were made in the early 80s.  All of the films were shown at the Midnight Movies in Hayward during my youth.  I can't remember the name of the theater--Hayward 5?  Hayward Cinema?--but I do know the joint was just across from Southland Mall and shared the same parking lot as Casa Carlita, a Mexican resto I used to frequent with my mom.

-part of the Southland mall parking lot-a rollerskating nirvana.

-couldn't find an image of the resto, but found an image of a 'vintage' CC matchbook going for $3.50 on an Ebay-like website.

Given today's parental climate, I would imagine that, if I were now a teen, there would be NO WAY I'd ever get to see any of the above movies, never mind seeing them at a theater with other nutty folk, possibly under the influence, at midnight.  Oh, and did I mention there was absolutely no parental oversight at the Midnight Movies?  It was teenage abandon and it was good.  I think most of us kids, at least where I lived, had tremendously 'long leashes' all through the 80s.  I'd also like to think that most of us came out of our teenage years largely unscathed, and those that didn't probably wouldn't have fared well regardless.

I don't think I would trade my teen experiences at the Midnight Movies, but I might have wished that I were a bit older before having 'dosed' in order to watch The Wall, Nightmare on Elm Street, etc.  This period of time pre-dates Ecstasy by a few years and that's probably a good thing.  Imagine how watching Rocky Horror on 'e' would have worked out...Holy Extreme Touchy-Feely, Batman!  It's probably for the best that those two things didn't combine way back when.

Probably not so much of a surprise, but still I really dig electric guitar.  I also have many-a solid memory of just sitting around at people's houses, high on something, intently listening to Led Zeppelin.  Now, I just listen to Led Zeppelin sans 'crutches', and, to be sure, at a slightly lower volume.