“Don’t touch those flowers, they are poisonous,” a voice yelled at me when I ventured to break off a huge red flower to show my mother. I wanted to cry; it was my 13th birthday and I had already been scolded. The sun was warm and bright that day in Arcadia, California where I had been born.
Later, mother explained that those bushes, called Poinsettias, might be poisonous or make me sick if I broke the stem and the sap oozed on my skin. (This has since been proven to be a myth.) It was another decade before the small, potable Poinsettias became ubiquitous with Christmas in every home.
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| Our first Ferry ride. Wish you could see Mother behind the camera. |
My sister, Jonya, turned 9 on December 11. Mother and Dad, along with their best friends Charlie and Jane Trussler decided to celebrate our monumental birthdays in California were I was born in 1947. I had not been back since we moved in 1950, and mother and dad had left many friends behind.
We arrived in the Pasadena, Arcadia area on Christmas day with dad behind the wheel of our faded Ford station wagon. One set of golf clubs in the back and a few suitcases. Charlie and Jane Trussler followed in their white Ford. The first two days of traveling I rode in the backseat of Trussler's car and slept, thanks to Dramamine. I spent my childhood carsick until I learned to drive and could see the road ahead. My only memory of the entire 3,000 mile round drive is a lunch picnic in a park near Flagstaff, Arizona where snow covered the ground on Christmas Day. The Trussler's and Stapp through snowballs at each other. I played on Trussler's side, since I rode with them.
But December 26 would be special as the four of us jumped in the station wagon and drove to Disney Land. How I wish I could share this story visually from my thirteen year old eyes, but memories will suffice. If mom and dad were here to share the story dad would remind me of the long lines we stood in for every ride. Mom would recall seeing the real Walt Disney walk by while she sat on a bench.
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| 1997 Matterhorn above Zermatt. |
The pirate ship complete with cannons and pirates from Peter Pan or my imagination thrilled me, especially when we sat down below and the crew exploded the cannons nearby. The screams from children rocked the boat.
Sailing over the parking lot and throngs of people below, the monorail became the highlight for all of us. The stream line design of the train made us feel like we lived in a new age. The house of the future appealed to mother’s taste. In my imagination there massive windows, and straight formed furniture in bold yellows, greens, and oranges. Not anything like our home in Oklahoma.
There was more than Disneyland to fill our week. Dad and mom proudly took us to Santa Anita Golf course where he was a teaching pro after the war. Before he and Charley played golf, we all went to the driving range to practice. I had never seen and two story fence around a driving range. Dad didn’t have to explain as the cars roared by on my left. Sadly, what I recall vividly is the smog rolling in. Even Dad was upset, as he recalled the ocean fresh air from his time in California. The fog was thick and it smelled stale.
My curiosity about this trip led me to a few boxes of family photos.
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On December 31, 1960 we spent the day at Marineland and mother captured the picture of Bubbles, the pilot whale performing tricks for the audience. Corky and Orky, two famous Killer Whales, also performed, giving children and parents the opportunity to imagine these creatures in the wild, and to help prevent their senseless killings
Lick Peir is known for having one of only two roller coasters to swing out over he ocean's edge, The Giant Dipper. My little 9 year old sister, Jonya, crawled in the front seat with dad and off they flew, up down, curve after curve, until we watched them disappear from sight. The screams indicated when they swerved over the
water.
I was terrified to ride with dad, so I chose the Wild Mouse Screamer, as I called it. Instead of side-by-side seats, the car held room for only two with Jonya on bottom or at the back and her braver older sister in front or on top of her depending on the force and jolts of the ride. I screamed and cried the entire ride because the turns were so fast I thought I would fly out. (When I read the history of Lick Peir, Santa Monica, California I discovered that they had to rework that ride the next year because it was too dangerous.)
Always the golf clubs
Always the stories
Will travel...
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