I get hungry

          Good evening, 919 Gang. Our streak is alive: For the 19^th consecutive Halloween we had zero trick-or-treaters. Mary is asking what I plan to do with all the candy I bought. Silly girl.

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          CHUCK BOYD writes:

          I really enjoyed seeing faces from 50 years ago when I attended the recent mini-reunion with members of the 919 Gang. Add my kudos to Rex Salmon!

          Because I live on the East Coast, it's always great to have a reason to revisit.

          I was coming out for a delayed wedding reception for my daughter in Oakland and, once I was "so close," I signed up for the San Diego function.

          The reception was held in Oakland's Jack London Square and was fantastic. My former wife Judy and I were the Parents of the Bride at the soiree.

          Judy's sister Jackie, our son Chris from Santee, his wife, and their daughter also were among the attendees. Pretty sure I had traveled the longest distance.

          Because I had made several last-minute changes, the flight to San Diego turned out to be rather pricey. [Note to self: do NOT book a flight the day before!] but the view coming in at twilight was its usual awesomeness, gliding in over rooftops and plopping down close to the bay right downtown.

          I took a drive to re-visit USD, where I graduated in 1968. It continues to change and expand as it celebrated its 50th anniversary a few weeks ago. I stayed in an apartment in North Park and enjoyed a great Irish breakfast at Oscar Wilde's Pub on University Avenue.

          Back in my days at the paper, we photographers were encouraged to be on the lookout for "wild art," a photo to run as caption only, and I spotted a Randy dandy near Balboa Park. I wonder if today's Photo Editor would accept it? Jack Cooper would have chuckled.

          Anyway, here are some pictures from my wonderful visit to a favorite city. And, one of Cooper and me, from the past.

Chuck Boyd, left, and Kip Cooper

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          DAVID FARMER writes:

          I recently bought a Lenovo desktop computer. It's the first of that brand I've owned. After about a month, it's doing fine. Me, not so much. There are subtle changes from the Dell keyboard I'd used for years. It's like re-learning to type after emerging from a coma. And while we're talking about keyboards:

          Lenovo captured my email address somewhere in the purchase process. So they send me offers of products every couple of days, like this keyboard:

 

          It's called the "Logitech G710+ Mechanical Gaming Keyboard with Tactile High-Speed Keys--Black." (You have to take a deep breath before even saying it to yourself.) This thing costs $135, which is about quadruple the price of ordinary keyboards Lenovo offers. (Before we go any farther, I'm not buying one or suggesting that anyone else do.)

          I'm sure there are folks on this forum who know all about "gaming keyboards." I can puzzle out why high-speed keys are desirable if you're in some kind of frenetic competition. But aren't all keys tactile? How is this keyboard "mechanical"? Is it because it's wired to your computer?

          Notice in the picture the tiniest little pigtail of a cord. Every ad I've seen for wired keyboards or mice tries to hide the wires as if they're obscene appendages. It's a wonder they don't paste a fig leaf over them.

          Forget specialized, complex keyboards. The one I need is the one that looks like the layout of an upright Underwood manual:

           Did you ever see anything so sleek and powerful? Maybe a Maserati. Today's keyboards look like a Maserati that's been flattened at a junkyard. I can't guarantee that this ever was a Maserati, but you get the idea:

          I'm so stuck in the past that if I wanted to buy a rifle, it would probably be a flintlock:

          Can anyone tell me how I got from Lenovo desktops to flintlock rifles, with side trips to a manual typewriter and a junkyard? What were the symptoms of dementia again?

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          SUZANNE MACK writes:

          Happy Halloween Jack,

          With Halloween falling on a Monday and having had our Halloween party on Saturday night I was so discombobulated that I was sure it was by now, November 1. We got up extra early so I could get ready and be at my Nov. 1 doctor's appointment at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. So, here we sit...all dressed up and no place to go.

          This year our Halloween party had a theme...Famous Couples. I was expecting Scarlet and Rhett, etc. but we have very creative friends. There was "Jack and Coke", a rock and a hard place (a cardboard brick wall), a pilot and vintage Pan Am stewardess, two of the Brady Bunch kids, Lucy and Ethel, Dale Evans and Roy Rogers, Elly May and Jed Clampett, a priest and a nun, etc. Probably the best one was our friend Richard and his wife who came as Ike and Tina Turner. Bill and I were Al and Peg Bundy. Love those leopard leggings!

          I enjoyed Bonnie Roger's history of her Halloweens. Only once did one of my children have a store-bought costume. Bridget insisted on being Strawberry Shortcake in preschool. Every other year they were gypsies, witches, angels, pirates, a mummy, a hobo, etc. I even sewed a Holly Hobby costume one year. Our neighborhood is a good one for trick or treating with only a couple of steep streets. To my kids trick or treating was a competition, an Olympic sport. They'd fill up their pillow cases to the point where they were too heavy to carry. Then they would drop by, dump out their loot into big bowls and head back out. More than once I had to dip into their takings to give to children who came to the door after I'd run out of treats. I only took the things I knew they didn't particularly like. I save the Mounds for myself.

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          DAVID FARMER writes:

           Welton Jones mentioned the phrase "a thing," meaning an activity that has become widely accepted. For example, asking your newborn child for its opinion as you select items in a grocery store. I have another use for the word "thing" which is outlined below.

          When I went to Ramona High School in the mid-50s, one of the teachers was named William Hannigan. He seemed ancient to me, though he was probably about 60. He taught biology and other classes.

          When Mr. Hannigan either lost his train of thought while lecturing, or just got bored with what he was saying, he would stop in mid-sentence and say, "Thing." We came to understand that this was what a politician today would call a "pivot." Mr. Hannigan was going to start another thought, leaving the current one unfinished.

          I found the technique useful within my immediate family. Mr. Hannigan was the only biology teacher at our high school. This meant that I and my three brothers either had already taken his class, were currently taking it, or would eventually take it. We all knew Mr. Hannigan's trope, though we didn't know what a trope was.

          At our house you would often find us dropping "thing" into a sentence and starting another. Our long-suffering mother was forced to adapt to this, though it must have been annoying. We never minded annoying her -- she was outnumbered.

          After I went out into the great world, I couldn't get anyone to join me in using "thing" as I've described. (That's been a major loss to the cause of brevity.)

          I especially failed in my early attempts to use it with my wife. When I'd do something foolish (rare as that was), Hinda would demand an explanation. I tried starting an excuse and then dwindling down to "thing." She was never satisfied, for reasons that still elude me.

          I fear that my use of "thing" will never become "a thing."

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          DAVID FARMER writes:

          I'm pretty sure this was no accident: Politico carried a story about supporters of Utah Sen. Orrin Hatch looking for donations to start a foundation in his name. Politico's headline referred to "Hatch Backers" seeking funds.

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          BOB ELLEDGE forwards:

          Look at this: we're finally No. 1...

          Arrests at NFL stadiums.

http://tinyurl.com/zxblzcb

Jack J. Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, CA 92065

U.S.A.

2reberjack@gmail.com

Happy Halloween

          Good evening, 919 Gang. Tis the season --

          BONNIE ROGERS writes:

          I've been "Counting Down to Halloween" on my Facebook pages for almost two weeks now. It's my modern version of Treat or Treat. Since Jack indicated he had space here, I decided to Trick or Treat with you.

COUNTING DOWN TO HALLOWEEN:

          Halloween 1940. This is what it looked like then. I am the skinny blonde kneeling on the far right. I remember my outfit well. My sisters had taken a lot of dancing lessons and I had a big box of their old costumes to choose from. This was my favorite. I wore it for several Halloweens. It was a black sateen body suit with net bugle beaded panels on front and back. It swished when I moved! I felt soooooo glamorous. This was the first year I was big enough to wear it. I was 5.

          Halloween 1943. I am 8, and wearing my own dance costume. My friend Marilyn and I danced to "Casey would waltz with the strawberry blonde, and The Band Played On." The skirts were green pleated satin. And we had learned to twirl the batons. That's her little brother Milton in the wagon dressed as a patriotic "girl." Friend Sharon is helping push the wagon (which we hoped to fill with candy that night when we would don our masks and hit up all the neighbors for Trick or Treat. Anybody who didn't give us a treat got their window screens swiped with a bar of soap). Sharon was from a Mormon family and her mother baked bread! Sharon was only too happy to trade with me for a slice of Wonder Bread with margarine for a piece of her mom's homemade bread spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar. That was the best treat to me! This was in the middle of World War II and sugar was rationed. I remember we got a lot of apples and walnuts Trick or Treating that year.

           It's 1945, the war is over and we're big 6th graders now. Marilyn and I pass on "beautiful" costumes and go as a hillbilly couple. She's the guy; I'm the barefoot girl pushing the doll buggy, which we hope to fill with candy. Her younger brother Milton is a clown this year and friend Norma poses "seductively" as a Spanish lady, complete with mantilla.

          We are standing in my driveway with the wall of the Beacon Hill Nursery's potting shed behind us. (This is now the National City Post Office.) My family actually lived in that potting shed for a year before the war when there was no housing available in San Diego. We moved into my grandpa's chicken house for the duration of the war because the landlord raised the rent on the potting shed from $15 a month to $25! We really were dirt poor in those days. (Did you know the term "dirt poor" referred to people who lived in dwellings with dirt floors because they couldn't afford stone or wood? The chicken house we lived in really did have dirt floors. Mother just laid linoleum on the ground, something earlier generations of the poor didn't have access to.) Maybe those outfits we are wearing weren't really "costumes" after all.

          I never got "too big" for Trick or Treating. Did it all through Junior High School but missed the high school years because I was in a convent boarding school. But starting at 17 I became the "T or T" leader for my nieces Patty and Diana. I would get off work at The San Diego Union at 919 2nd in downtown San Diego, take the bus to Imperial Beach and march my nieces around their neighborhood while my sister Lois manned one of the booths at their local school carnival. I did that until my mid 20s when I started marching my own kids around the neighborhood on the Eve of All Hallows. When they were very young we lived in the Sunnyslope section of El Cajon. Then to San Carlos (in San Diego) where all three eventually went to Gage School. The photo here shows little Yvonne, big sister Vicki and bro Michael in their costumes. And just look at the size of those Trick or Treat bags! I remember having to ration out the treats they got over a couple of weeks to keep them from getting sick on their loot. Did you do the same with your kids?

           When we moved to the Hollywood Hills my kids were 9, 11 and 13. The two youngest went to Valley View Elementary across the street; Vicki caught the school bus up the hill and rode to Le Conte Junior High in Hollywood. We live on a very steep hill so Trick or Treating was difficult. They did it on our street for a couple of years but came to rely on their schools' Halloween activities instead of the door-to-door approach. Friends' parties played a big part in their holiday activities, too.

          By the time Vicki was in high school the parties prevailed. One year she was dating a boy who was attending USC. His fraternity was giving a big Halloween bash. Usually my kids put together their costumes with their imaginations, but this year Vicki decided to go another route. She was a great reader of romance novels so choose to go as a great lady. She rented this get-up from one of the big costume companies in Hollywood. Doesn't she look like she's just stepped out of a Gainsborough painting?

          Skipping a lifetime of Halloweens here -- the years taking my kids Trick or Treating -- for which I have no photos. (When I got divorced, I got the kids, he got the pictures.) This picture is from the 1970s. I was attending some kind of Halloween corporate event at Universal Studios here in Hollywood. They had all their classic monsters circulating through the crowd. I ended up spending most of my time at the luscious buffet, particularly near a huge pile of gigantic shrimp. There was a short little grey-haired man lurking at the shrimp stand next to me. Between us we had managed to demolish a significant part of it. Trying to be conversational I said, "Do you work here?" "No," he answered. "I own it." I realized I was talking to Jules Stein. And he did OWN Universal. I blurted something inane like "Bully for you," and faded back into the crowd as quickly as I could, hoping he didn't know who I was. It was his party after all.

          I got a whole new lease on Halloween (and other fun holidays) when daughter Yvonne and baby Kayla came to live with me in Hollywood in 1998. Kayla was less than a year old when they moved here from Arkansas. Living on a steep hill makes Trick or Treating impossible, but we had lots of fun decorating the house for holidays. Here Yvonne and Kayla are carving pumpkins. Actually, Kayla is just posing with the knife (for safety reasons) but we let her light the candles we put in the jack-o-lanterns. Aren't grandkids great?

           Kayla's ready for her first night of Trick or Treating. We've solved the steep hill problem and started what came to be a tradition. We drove over to my niece Ann's house in Sherman Oaks where she lived in a safe, pocket neighborhood with her daughter Kristy. We picked up my sister Pat Rogalla on the way. Two grandmas, two of our daughters and our two granddaughters. A terrific group to go chasing goblins. Here Kayla, 5, is all ready in her princess costume, complete with tiara. Yvonne adopted a Western theme, with leather hat and concho belt. "And the goblins will get YOU if you don't watch out!"

           Now Kayla is in school and the Halloween costume parade is a big deal (although to be PC, it is called the Harvest Festival). That's my house in the background--the white Spanish with the red tile roof. I have lived across the street from a school most of my life. I love to hear the kids on the playground. We go over to Ann's for Trick or Treating after school where cousin Laurel and her baby Megan are now part of the fun. While the girls and their mamas and Grandma Pat are scouring the neighborhood for goodies, I am manning Ann's front door and passing out the candy to all the little ghosts and goblins who knock. What fun. Halloween is a great holiday.

          Many Halloweens were enjoyed tramping around Sherman Oaks, and we all got into the costume mode. My favorite costume year featured Ann as an Egyptian, Kristy as a pink bumble bee fairy, Kayla as a pirate and Laurel's family right from Oz -- she was Glinda the Good Witch, Javier the Scarecrow, Pat as the Tin Woodsman and Megan as Dorothy. Ever see anything so cute?

          But we older ladies (in our 70s and 80s then) always got into the spirit of the night. One year Pat couldn't make up her mind whether she was Chico Marx or Shirley Temple. (You decide.) I came as a burnt turkey. When Yvonne became too ill, Kayla moved to Mesa, Arizona, to live with cousin Diana. But that didn't mean we missed Trick or Treating. I drove Yvonne (and my mobility scooter) to Mesa and we joined Kayla and Diana at the Fox Hills school Halloween Carnival. (Yvonne is in the cap and that's Diana hiding behind the grotesque clown get up.) It was Yvonne's last Halloween.

          The first Halloween I remember was in 1939. It was still the Great Depression. My debut in society was to be my first party -- on Halloween. I wasn't considered old enough to go Trick or Treating, so Mother planned a party. Written invitations went out to all the pre-school kids in the neighborhood. Mother made up a game: Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin. She made cinnamon apples, a dessert specialty of hers. Since this party was being done on a shoestring, many of the activities centered around apples. They were cheap, especially when bought by the bushel. We would dunk for apples in a big, galvanized tub of water. We would try to bite apples hung on strings in the large, arched doorway between our living room and dining room.

          All was ready for the party set to start at dusk. The big crate of apples sat on our large front porch. So did 4-year-old me. Excited about all the party prep, I sat next to the apples, quietly eating them, one by one. And very quickly, fearing I might be caught eating up the party fare. I didn't bother to chew the peels well. I think I ate the seeds and the cores, as well. Not surprisingly, I developed the tummy ache of the century! The doctor was called. He said I had appendicitis. It might rupture! I was tucked into my bed and packed in ice in an effort to forestall that appendix from bursting. In the meantime, all the kids showed up for the party.

           They pinned the nose on the pumpkin. They bobbed for apples. They tried to bite them on a string. I begged to join them. And for a brief time, I lay on the couch, still surrounded by my ice bags. But it wasn't any fun and I went back to bed. The party was a huge success. My appendix didn't burst (I still have it). So I missed my first party. And I never have cared much for apples ever since. Halloween? Yes. Apples? Nope. Tonight is my 82nd Halloween. My observation this year is limited to having sparkly orange polish on my fingers and toes. I will probably eat an apple, just for the heck of it.

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          WELTON JONES writes:

          I really should think this one through more thoroughly, but you indicate you need copy so...

          The language is always changing, true, but not necessarily for the worse. The substitution of "So" for "Well, um..." to begin a response is not bad. "No problem" or "No worries" as a response to mild apology is less intriguing. But the new usage of "a thing" is most laudable. There is no substitute for the term in a sentence like: "charging stations for electronic cars? Is that a thing?" I take it to mean these stations may now be established enough to be considered a reality. And I welcome the usage into the so-flexible English language.

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          REBER: Oct. 31 is a special day for Charlie Starr and Kelly Thornton. Happy Birthday to each.

Jack J. Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, CA 92065

U.S.A.

2reberjack@gmail.com