AMTRAK to Seattle

Trees changing colors in Oregon

Life goes on despite the pandemic and an all-consuming election. Missing my sister, who lives in Snohomish, WA, and wanting to meet our new grand-niece, we decided to travel north to visit family. My one stipulation: no airplanes till a reliable vaccine is developed. So we once again booked an AMTRAK sleeper car to Seattle, like we did to New Mexico back in February (a million years ago!). This time, however, the trip was 33 hours one-way, requiring two full days on the train. Again, not the most comfortable sleeping accommodations, but truly a relaxing ride. Plus the scenery was spectacular, as you can see below.

Mirror selfie in our "bedroom" cabin

Waiting for the train to depart

Quick stop in Klamath Falls: looking toward the back

of the train

Tim heading back to our car. Pleasant weather going up,

but 29 degrees in Klamath Falls on the way home. We stayed

in our cabin.

Dawn the next morning. Note the train's shadow as we

zip along.

Lush Oregon

Thrilled to see so many yellow trees

Quick stop in Portland: cool neon signs

at the station

Grocery shopping in Snohomish: 16 kinds of apples!

With grand-niece Vera Rose

Heading home: Seattle King Street train station

Spectacular station interior, beautifully 

renovated in 2013

Amazing 1906 masonry

Ceiling detail

Rebuilt Tacoma Narrows Bridge after the original bridge

famously collapsed

Are the farm workers in Salinas really this happy?

We didn't see any in the fields, so don't know.

Saw several rocketless launch pads while traveling through

Vandenberg Air Base, on the California central coast.

Always a thrill for me to see, even if no missiles in sight.

Big curve approaching San Luis Obispo. Can see the end

cars of our train.

Nate and Vanessa's Wedding

 

Happy newlyweds

 

Although Tim and I never had any kids, we do have plenty of amazing nephews and nieces, for which we are both exceedingly grateful. I love my sister Vicki's sons and daughter as if they were my own.

Last Saturday, my youngest nephew Nate married his long-time sweetheart Vanessa in Snohomish, WA, where Vicki and her husband Frank live. The ceremony was joyous—personalized vows from the heart (lots of happy tears!)—and the venue, Woodland Meadow Farms, magnificent. Never have I seen two people so truly belong together. We partied all weekend long (wienie roast, Friday night, in Vicki's beautiful backyard). What a wonderful celebration.

 

Uncle Tim showing grand-nephew Henry how to roast wienies

 

Me and Vicki

 

The groom's siblings: brothers Micah and Aaron and sister Beckie

 

Wedding venue

 

Walking down the aisle

 

Mr. and Mrs.

 

Beckie, Vicki and me

 

Vicki and son Micah

 

Tim and me

 

Nate, Frank and Vanessa

 

Beckie's 2-year-old daughter Vivian

 

The cake before . . .

 

And after 

Much happiness, Nate and Vanessa. We love you! 

Helms Bakery

My name is Cindy and I’m a breadaholic. It's been 30 minutes since I ate a piece of bread.

As Tim learned early in our relationship, not only is an empty bread bin a sin, it’s a potential point-of-contention to be avoided at all costs. No wonder, then, that I found a beautiful French baguette waiting for me in the kitchen when I returned from a five-day business trip last week.

I blame my bread addiction on Helms Bakery, which, when we were kids, delivered bread and other baked goods to our block. Before the cream-colored-and-blue van approached, the driver would toot a high-pitched whistle that would lure entire families out to the street. My sister loved Helms pound cake, but I only ever had eyes for their fresh-baked bread. It never was the best bread I’ve eaten, but it was delivered right to our door, so who could resist? I have loved bread ever since.

The bakery closed in 1969. Today the building houses several furniture stores and some of Culver City’s trendiest restaurants. The largest store, HD Buttercup, also has a small Helms Bakery Museum that never fails to attract locals of a certain age. We were there this morning and couldn’t resist snapping some photos.

Small but memory-inducing museum, located inside HD

Buttercup on the east wall 

Helms: the official bread of the 1932 Olympics in L.A.

Older delivery van

A van from our youth

Wooden drawers that pulled out and held donuts, cookies, etc.

Outside the building along Venice Blvd.

Inside the bakery today: HD Buttercup

Inside the bakery today: Scandinavian Design

Helms Bakery vans and other service vehicles of our youth

Little Dumbo

Little Dumbo with big brother

Like I've written here before, the Dumbo ride at Disneyland holds a special place in my sister Vicki's and my hearts. No wonder then that my ears perked up when a woman we met, while waiting for the Christmas candlelight procession to start at Disneyland, said she had spent the day trying to track down a Dumbo popcorn container at the various popcorn stands in the park. She showed me a photo and I was immediately hooked. There was the most adorable Dumbo I had ever seen! I had to get one for my sister for Christmas. So as soon as the candlelight ceremony ended, I dragged Tim from popcorn stand to popcorn stand in search of Dumbo. This being December, the cast members all said they had to sell the Mickey Christmas containers before they could offer Dumbo. Disappointed, I eventually gave up and forgot all about Dumbo.

That is, until a couple of weeks ago, when we decided to stop by the park for a few hours and I suddenly had a crave for popcorn. And there was Dumbo in all his little glory! I bought one, ate all the popcorn inside, and then walked around the park with him hanging from my arm. Several people stopped to ask if he was a purse or lunchbox. Everyone thought he was adorable. When we got home, I washed out the popcorn smell and mailed him to my sister. But first, Tim and I did a quick photo shoot at the Dumbo ride, sort of in the spirit of one of my favorite books, Barbie Loves L.A. How cute is Dumbo?

Me and little Dumbo

Little Dumbo flying with his brothers

Memories of Wilshire Blvd

Me and our old Ford Falcon wagon in 1970

Several years ago, the L.A. Conservancy solicited members' stories about Wilshire Blvd., my favorite street in Los Angeles. I submitted a written memory, which appeared briefly on the Conservancy's website, and then forgot all about it.

Well, imagine my surprise when I visited the Conservancy's new "Explore L.A." microsite, this morning, and there, featured prominently on the Wilshire Blvd. page, was my short story under the headline, "The Most Glamorous Street in the World"! You can link to my memories here or enjoy them right now below:

Like most of the kids in my high school, I got my driver's license as soon as I turned sixteen. But unlike everyone else, I was too afraid to drive the freeway; and so that entire first summer (1970), my younger sister and I regularly drove the family's 10-year-old Ford Falcon over 25+ miles of L.A. streets to go to the beach.

From Burbank we took Barham over the hill to Highland and then down to Wilshire, where we turned right and headed toward the ocean. Our favorite beach was Sorrento, located at the foot of the California Incline.

Just west of La Brea were the tar pits, the art museum (only one building in those days), and the amazing gold column of the Fairfax May Co. -- all only a few steps away from curly-q French fries at Dolores drive-thru.

Further down was Beverly Hills, with its beautiful hotels and department stores, and of course Wilson's House of Leather, where we always decided to continue on Wilshire rather than turning onto the probably more suitable Santa Monica Blvd.

Approaching the beach head-on down the hill from Westwood somehow seemed a lot more exciting than sneaking up behind it from Santa Monica Blvd.

Years later, I frequently retraced this route as a UCLA graduate student, even though I had conquered my fear of freeways by then.

To me, Wilshire Blvd. remains the most glamorous street in the world and is the very epitome of Los Angeles.

Dumbo Ride Controversy

Dumbo, 1958 (click to enlarge)

The Dumbo ride looms large in my family’s lore. Mom always loved telling the story of the first time we went to Disneyland in 1958, three years after the park opened, and how she got stuck loading my sister Vicki and me onto the ride.

There were five of us that day: Mom, Dad, Vicki (3 years old), me (4 years old), and Uncle Louie. Unc was so excited about flying in Dumbo (he’s the handsome devil above, seated in the elephant behind my sister and me), that he completely abandoned Mom as she was trying to get us on the ride. In all the commotion, Mom tripped and fell, while Uncle Louie sat laughing in his Dumbo. Dad must have been in charge of taking pictures, because he didn’t help either. My mother never forgave either of them.

Well, I was attending the annual Disneyana convention a couple of weeks ago when one of the speakers mentioned the Dumbo ride and the problems it had early on. The first Dumbos had hinged ears that were supposed to flap when they flew, but never really did. Plus, he said, there was no opening into the body, so riders had to jump or be lifted into the Dumbos. Ah ha! Could that be why Mom had such a difficult time getting us onto the ride?

When I told my sister about this, we both immediately dug-up our copies of the now legendary photo above. There we are, smiling away, while Uncle Louie looks on innocently in the background. There, too, are the hinged ears, which I never noticed before, despite looking at this picture a million times. But also, there’s very clearly an opening on the lefthand side of the Dumbo. Mom didn’t have to lift us into the ride.

So what was that Disneyana guy talking about? According to Wikipedia, as well as my Disney reference books—yes, I own a bunch of Disney reference books—the original Dumbo ride wasn’t upgraded until many years later, so obviously the guy was wrong—unless, of course, someone out there knows differently. Do any of you remember Dumbos that didn’t have an opening? Regardless, I’m just thrilled we have such a great photo of Dumbo’s hinged ears!

Remembering JFK

My aunt's campaign button

One of my earliest childhood memories is of me keeping a running tally of state-by-state presidential nominations during the 1960 Democratic convention. Not only was this a good math exercise for an intellectually precocious 6-year-old, it also indoctrinated me early into my family’s political beliefs.

My family adored John Fitzgerald Kennedy. He was young and charismatic. But most importantly, he was a Democrat.

I was in fifth grade the day Kennedy was shot, 50 years ago. I no longer remember how my classmates and I were told the sad news; but I do remember fetching my sister, who was in third grade, so we could walk home early together. We were both very worried about our grandmother, who had heart problems and would, we feared, be very upset by the president’s death.

In those days, our family treated death very respectfully and somberly. There was no play or music that weekend until after the funeral on Monday. We mourned JFK’s passing as if he was one of our own.

The world changed that day and I still can’t think about it without crying.

P.S. I asked my sister what she remembers of that day and this is what she said:

I don't remember much.  However, I think the announcement may have been made while I was on the playground because I remember standing there frozen while numerous people broke into tears.  I now think I was too young to realize what it all meant, other than the fact that Gramma, especially, would be affected.
 
What I learned this week from watching the clips was that Jackie stood by the Johnsons as he was sworn into office, wearing the same blood-splattered pink suit she had on earlier that day.  I had probably noticed that before, but this time, to me, that is just ominous and a glaring testimony of how rapidly all the events took place.  Such a life-altering day.