w00t w00t booyah

...somebody famous dies - and you don't immediately go to their performing career for a memory?

97 years old, no complaints. I don't recall Art Linkletter being a big adoption advocate - but he was an adoptee, out of Canada no less and it would appear that had a bigger impact than one would have hoped. A 'preacher' who made him work odd jobs to help the family. Well, I'd doubt I'd advocate for adoption either - if it turned you into a hobo. (And no, this is not the first kind of story of its type I know of...particularly the 'preacher' type, right?) Odd jobs. I can just imagine.

He didn't go far from where he grew up, though.

See, back in the day? One of the most lasting imprints Art Linkletter ever had on my life was his real estate gigs in Hemet in the sixties.

He helped design, build and sell a relatively new concept - retirement destination living. To wit, manufactured housing directed at the specific needs of the retirement community.

Um, trailer parks. Um, single-wide coffins. Um.

Oh, they look nice enough. But here, let me get some street views up for you:


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That's pretty typical. And that's looking at about fifty years later - they didn't look much different new.


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Why look. There's a 'rehabilitation center' (I think) right next door! (Yes, they're all surrounded by those cinderblock walls.) Um, that's code for 'A Home' if you didn't already guess by the caretaker arriving for her shift, or the medical transport parked at the curb.

Art Linkletter made A BUNDLE on this.

Driving down these roads? You might see someone else on the road - but I've never had trouble getting through, particularly at night. Maybe they added speed bumps, but that used to be the best way to ditch someone in a hurry - and get across town in a hurry, because everyone there? Too old to drive, and everyone who cared? Was off the clock after 5 PM.

My one stint as a home health aide (did it for two weeks and walked away - broke my heart) was often to see clients in Sierra Dawn. To a person, they were alone alone alone and had nobody else, not even neighbors, to share companionship with. I called in to my office in tears asking what to do. I simply could not be the whole world in two hours and that's all they really needed.

I did newspaper routes in this place - one of those throwaway ad papers? Every week. Every house. Every one of them empty of any visible life, though we knew someone had to be there, behind those closed doors and drawn shades. The third of the month was always a big day in Hemet - that's when the Social Security checks arrived, after all. That's when you learned patience by keeping your foot on the brake driving around town.

All alike. Everyone indoors, you never saw them. But hey! Independent living in your golden years!

We always put soap in the fountains. Mr. Bubble was a big hit. And flipped off Art Linkletter whenever we thought of him, passing by.

He wasn't the only one building this modern paradyme, to be certain - but he certainly had no problem being the most visible salesman of it.

I'm sure, wherever he is now, he's going to have to deal with that. He survived three of his five children. Wow - just for that alone, he gets a kudo from me - but that's about it.

...somebody famous dies - and you don't immediately go to their performing career for a memory?

97 years old, no complaints. I don't recall Art Linkletter being a big adoption advocate - but he was an adoptee, out of Canada no less and it would appear that had a bigger impact than one would have hoped. A 'preacher' who made him work odd jobs to help the family. Well, I'd doubt I'd advocate for adoption either - if it turned you into a hobo. (And no, this is not the first kind of story of its type I know of...particularly the 'preacher' type, right?) Odd jobs. I can just imagine.

He didn't go far from where he grew up, though.

See, back in the day? One of the most lasting imprints Art Linkletter ever had on my life was his real estate gigs in Hemet in the sixties.

He helped design, build and sell a relatively new concept - retirement destination living. To wit, manufactured housing directed at the specific needs of the retirement community.

Um, trailer parks. Um, single-wide coffins. Um.

Oh, they look nice enough. But here, let me get some street views up for you:


View Larger Map

That's pretty typical. And that's looking at about fifty years later - they didn't look much different new.


View Larger Map

Why look. There's a 'rehabilitation center' (I think) right next door! (Yes, they're all surrounded by those cinderblock walls.) Um, that's code for 'A Home' if you didn't already guess by the caretaker arriving for her shift, or the medical transport parked at the curb.

Art Linkletter made A BUNDLE on this.

Driving down these roads? You might see someone else on the road - but I've never had trouble getting through, particularly at night. Maybe they added speed bumps, but that used to be the best way to ditch someone in a hurry - and get across town in a hurry, because everyone there? Too old to drive, and everyone who cared? Was off the clock after 5 PM.

My one stint as a home health aide (did it for two weeks and walked away - broke my heart) was often to see clients in Sierra Dawn. To a person, they were alone alone alone and had nobody else, not even neighbors, to share companionship with. I called in to my office in tears asking what to do. I simply could not be the whole world in two hours and that's all they really needed.

I did newspaper routes in this place - one of those throwaway ad papers? Every week. Every house. Every one of them empty of any visible life, though we knew someone had to be there, behind those closed doors and drawn shades. The third of the month was always a big day in Hemet - that's when the Social Security checks arrived, after all. That's when you learned patience by keeping your foot on the brake driving around town.

All alike. Everyone indoors, you never saw them. But hey! Independent living in your golden years!

We always put soap in the fountains. Mr. Bubble was a big hit. And flipped off Art Linkletter whenever we thought of him, passing by.

He wasn't the only one building this modern paradyme, to be certain - but he certainly had no problem being the most visible salesman of it.

I'm sure, wherever he is now, he's going to have to deal with that. He survived three of his five children. Wow - just for that alone, he gets a kudo from me - but that's about it.

Measure G in Hemet failed.

Please don't look for surprise here. Anything that would require people to part with money in that town is always going to get shot down.

They used to say there was more money in the banks on Florida Avenue than on Wall Street. Believe it. Because you will *never* see anyone invest it in infrastructure unless they were made to by rule of law.

I left. I left because I couldn't make a living out there, and I couldn't stand the politics.

Watch it get nastier before it gets better. That, I predict now.

And back at work. Wait. I worked all weekend. *slaps self*

I'll be Zod for a moment, so you won't feel bad bowing before me. You'll understand in a moment.

1. We get to the airport half and hour ahead of her flight arriving. (We already know it's on time and what gate it's coming in at.)

2.) We get the perfect parking spot just at the end of the aisle, right next to the crosswalk at the terminal the flight is coming in at.

3.) We are BOTH issued security passes to meet our party at the gate. (Phone call to airline ahead of time? Only one would be issued.)

4.) And we are there when she is the last of the passengers off the flight, and the last one taken off in a wheelchair.

5.) Bow before Zod.

We also kept the fellow pushing the wheelchair through baggage claim, and then out to the car. Bonus!

She got to the house, was there long enough to leave her sunglasses there - and pronounced the house cute. (Lunch was grilled cheese and tomato soup, all good.)

Drive out to Hemet uneventful - Mom made us a perfect chicken dinner, and we then went to Moreno Valley for the grand-nephew's First Real Football Game. (He's 13 and playing midget ball. They lost 24 to 12. Oh well.)

Because the game began at 8:00 PM, we booked a room out there - and Jim decided to make good use of the trip and found time to get his glider ride in on Sunday at 11:00 (there will be pictures on Facebook soon). *checks* Damn, I didn't post this when I did it. For his Valentine's Day present, I got Jim an hour in a glider with Sailplane Enterprises in Hemet. I have to admit, this is an ongoing tete-a-tete Jim and I have. The first Valentine's Day, he got me the South Park movie on DVD. LOVED IT. Thought it was the perfect romantic giftie in the world.

The next year, I got him the Spock vs. Q radio plays on CD. He totally geeked out.

So. This year, I won. And Sunday, he went flying.

However. Super 8, while clean and nice and everything? Had beds loaned to them from the Cathedral Hill Hotel. BAH.

I got home sometime around 5 or so, got my Animal Crossing game up to date and plugged in the Sims and played out my first vacation with the new Bon Voyage expansion pack.

It's SCHWEET. Also, this pack, like others before it, appears to have addressed some database optimization and graphic issues without saying anything about it in the release notes. The game is running better, with more code in it. ALL GOOD.

But I wanted some tree time. As in, being outside under some. Which I didn't get. *pout*

In the whole scheme of things, it's small potatoes. But I'm missing me some tall conifers right now, and the ocean breezes aren't cutting it this morning.

And back at work. Wait. I worked all weekend. *slaps self*

I'll be Zod for a moment, so you won't feel bad bowing before me. You'll understand in a moment.

1. We get to the airport half and hour ahead of her flight arriving. (We already know it's on time and what gate it's coming in at.)

2.) We get the perfect parking spot just at the end of the aisle, right next to the crosswalk at the terminal the flight is coming in at.

3.) We are BOTH issued security passes to meet our party at the gate. (Phone call to airline ahead of time? Only one would be issued.)

4.) And we are there when she is the last of the passengers off the flight, and the last one taken off in a wheelchair.

5.) Bow before Zod.

We also kept the fellow pushing the wheelchair through baggage claim, and then out to the car. Bonus!

She got to the house, was there long enough to leave her sunglasses there - and pronounced the house cute. (Lunch was grilled cheese and tomato soup, all good.)

Drive out to Hemet uneventful - Mom made us a perfect chicken dinner, and we then went to Moreno Valley for the grand-nephew's First Real Football Game. (He's 13 and playing midget ball. They lost 24 to 12. Oh well.)

Because the game began at 8:00 PM, we booked a room out there - and Jim decided to make good use of the trip and found time to get his glider ride in on Sunday at 11:00 (there will be pictures on Facebook soon). *checks* Damn, I didn't post this when I did it. For his Valentine's Day present, I got Jim an hour in a glider with Sailplane Enterprises in Hemet. I have to admit, this is an ongoing tete-a-tete Jim and I have. The first Valentine's Day, he got me the South Park movie on DVD. LOVED IT. Thought it was the perfect romantic giftie in the world.

The next year, I got him the Spock vs. Q radio plays on CD. He totally geeked out.

So. This year, I won. And Sunday, he went flying.

However. Super 8, while clean and nice and everything? Had beds loaned to them from the Cathedral Hill Hotel. BAH.

I got home sometime around 5 or so, got my Animal Crossing game up to date and plugged in the Sims and played out my first vacation with the new Bon Voyage expansion pack.

It's SCHWEET. Also, this pack, like others before it, appears to have addressed some database optimization and graphic issues without saying anything about it in the release notes. The game is running better, with more code in it. ALL GOOD.

But I wanted some tree time. As in, being outside under some. Which I didn't get. *pout*

In the whole scheme of things, it's small potatoes. But I'm missing me some tall conifers right now, and the ocean breezes aren't cutting it this morning.

Got home late last night after driving,driving,driving. Somebody or something had an accident at the 110/91 juncture and they CLOSED THE FREEWAY at that point, going west. So, you have to fight six lanes of traffic that reallyreallyreally want to get off the freeway at the nearest exit, which has one lane. Managed it without getting killed. Some people don't like my "Drive Hawaiian Style" stumperbicker - last night, it almost seemed like it smacked some people upside the head and went "OH YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT" and they began behaving. It's subtitled "Slow Down. Be Nice." And it has a nice lil' brown person on it.

Only cracker in the box, and I know it.

82 when I left home yesterday, it was 103 when I got into town - went up to the Ramona Bowl and snapped some shots for my open_yours project, looked around for something I could take with me, but only the gardener was there.

So I went down the street to Ramona Bowl Park and picked up some rocks. I used to scramble all over those boulders when I was younger. Rode my bike there. The one with the banana seat and sissy bar. I passed the little church that had a water spigot out front where we used to get drinks of water back then. Still there. Looks like it's a bible study "clubhouse" for teen groups now. Spic-n-span with a new coat of paint, and bars on the windows. Weird.

Got to Mom's house, and the skies opened. Literally. Had one of the good ol' gullywashers I remembered from many, many summers - rides in, crashes, booms, knocks out the power, dumps inches of rain and then leaves. In about 20 minutes. NBC had enough time to get a minicam crew out, but by then, it's done. They said a tornado touched down somewhere the 74/79 intersection. Whee! When I went back out, the humidity was higher, and just as hot as when it started. Ew. Steam coming off the sidewalks and such. FUNKY.

Went to the Mall. Surprised to see so many other ethnic groups - when I grew up there, it was as WASP as it could come, and if you were Catholic or Jewish, you were strange and exciting. Honest. There are a larger number of Indian & Pakistani medical professionals out there now, they all have their own HUGE medical business offices. Looks like they called friends. It's good.

But unexpected. Sushi in at least three places. This makes as much sense as having Sushi in St. Louis (ask Jim about that) - but that's new, too.

Still can't eat out in that town - even the Arby's sucked. Scary.

Today is housework before it gets too hot to move. So - off I go!