Watching Desert Storm (1991)

When Desert Storm had just begun, Scott and I stayed up until all hours one night (at least, may have been more) watching the CNN coverage. I remember being freaked by a number of things: living in a country at war, wondering what the hell we were doing there, watching a war on television and them going on and on about some precision bombing into a heating duct or something like that. Wow! We could bomb with impunity thanks to our super special technological advantage. That must make us the better nation!

Oddly enough, I also remember that I had really bad gas on the night in question. My little contribution to the war effort.

Ernie Steele's (1992)

I loved Ernie Steele's on Broadway. It was what it was, with the yellowing smoke-stained walls, cheesy hunting scene and wildlife paintings, people who were not interested in posing and the excellent possibility of a Cuba libre when most bars of its ilk could only serve beer and wine. Connie, Loren and I, with some other folks, I recall not whom, went there to watch the '92 presidential election returns. The first president to win who I'd actually voted for. Lots of excitement and hope was in the air.

I miss Ernie Steele's. It's now a sports bar thing, or some other such nonsense.

Last Exit (1975/76)

When we first moved to Seattle, somebody took us to the late great Last Exit in the U District. I loved it because it a) wascool and groovy and b) offered a ham and cheese sandwich on a hotdog bun wrapped in napkin and served in one of those great thick white coffee mugs. This was most unprecedented and also most excellent stuff for a kid!

Jesus Christ Superstar (late 1980s/early 1990s)

Connie, Lo and myself went up to Vancouver B.C., for a concert, I think. Probably a concert, and very most probably Sonic Youth. On the way back, to keep us awake and frisky, Connie and I sung ALL of Jesus Christ Superstar. Wish I could remember who the fourth person in the car was. All I know is that he later said he was suitably impressed. I highly recommend it, filled the journey quite nicely, and tons of fun, to boot!


Update: In a bit of serendipity action, just saw in today's paper that the musical is coming back to Madrid in September. I've already got the album in Spanish, so maybe I'll just give it a whirl.

Double decker cone (early 1970s)

When we lived in Oakland, there was a Baskin Robbins up the street on the main shopping drag. Probably a 10 or 15-minute walk away. It was a special treat to walk up and get a cone. I was especially partially to orange sherbet, which I would now consider more or less a waste of calories now. Anyway, at some point I was deemed old enough to be able to handle a double cone. I was so proud and happy! Boy, you better believe I lorded that over my little brother in the most obnoxious way. Sorry, And!

Ya es primevera (1995)

When I first got to Spain I was a touch confused by the Corte Inglés's current advertising campaign: Ya es primavera (more or less "Spring is here"). Little did I know they repeat it every year.

Now this is confusing for a couple of reasons, perhaps the main one being that it is patently NOT spring when they start the dang thing.

The second thing is the word "ya", which means lots and lots of stuff in Spanish. They use it all the time for such meanings as: yeah, already, now, right away, right now, at that time, sometime in the future, any longer, any more, no longer, enough already. For the life of me, I couldn't get happy with one meaning. At some point I stopped thinking about it, relaxed into just understanding it as a Spanish person might, and there you have it.

Canadian dentist (mid-1970s)

The first trip to the dentist I can remember, and what I think was my actual very first trip, was in Vancouver when I was staying with or living with my dad. I was terrified! I remember we got a lollypop afterwards. I don't think that seemed logical to me, even then.

2nd hand snow memory (1967/68)

My mother's often told me this story, so it's very clear in my head. I think there are even pictures. However, as you can tell from the date, it would be a minor miracle if I actually remembered it.

My aunt and uncle came over to Bishop, California, where I was born and where we lived until I was one or so. Someone it was decided that a picnic in the snow was in order. Off we went, my dad, mom and I in our old white Ford pick-up (no baby seat for me!), and my aunt and uncle (and cousins?) behind in their VW bug. Now apparently (and not surprisingly to me) as far as my father was concerned, it weren't no fun without a little off-road adventure action. My mom says she remembers looking back at Joyce and Dick's dismayed faces as they strugged to follow the truck. When we "arrived", I was screaming, everyone else was fairly miserable, and my dad was happier than a pig when he realizes he's been skipped over at slaughtering time.

Flavia's baby book (1999)

While making my New Year's cards (a sample of which in the picture), I came across a 1999 calendar which I'd saved for wrapping presents and other creative activities. (It was a Millennium calendar given to me by Sarah with an H's mom and had lots of cool pictures.) I had recorded all the details of Flavia's first months on it:

15 March 1999 – abrió los ojos (opened her eyes)

18 March 1999 – Calpurnia/Luna nuestra (Calpurnia/Luna is ours - These were the two names we originally considered. I really wanted Calpurnia, a name I've loved since I saw To Kill a Mockingbird, but Pedro wasn't having any of it.)

29 March – 24 cm.

6 April – 27 cm.

18 April – 29 cm.

1 May – 34 cm.

19 June – 40 cm.

I've just sort of measured her (a little difficult when she's sleeping curled up in her bed). She's still about 15 inches.

Christmas carols (early 1970s)

Once when we lived in Oakland, I wanted to hold hands around the Christmas tree and sing carols. My family was not into this.