AND THE FANS WENT WILD

January 1, 2013.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Well, we’re three for three.  Explanation later.  For the first time in forty years we didn’t sit around in our pajamas and watch the Rose Parade on New Year’s morning.  We left Mom to do that while we took off just before it started to make our way to Pasadena to watch the Rose Bowl in person.  I can’t tell you what tickets cost to this thing.  Literally.  I choke violently every time I think about it. This meant we did get up early in order to bathe, eat, and get everything ready to go by 7:30.  We figured that the quietest time on the freeways and around the Rose Bowl would be while the parade was going on from 8 to 10 o’clock.  We were right.  It was clear sailing all the way across L.A. from the west side, and the anticipated jam-up at the Bowl was non-existent.  We cruised right in.  We probably could have slept in a while longer but, as you see, I got a few winks after we parked.  Tip:  secure camera from spouse before dozing off.  Although it has its faults, our new Prius V has an incredibly spacious back seat, with split reclining (goes a lot further than I had it in this pic).

We sat in the car and read most of the time while waiting for game time, but did wander about to take in the usual tailgating nonsense.  Then we joined the mob-queue at the gates, enduring the exhortations of the Jesus bunch trying to mass convert the great unwashed.  There were lots more than these two, some with bullhorns.  I sometimes envy the evangelicals.  It must be enormously comforting to be so confident that everyone who disagrees with you (a) is wrong and condemned to hell, and (b) should have to endure your ranting in public spaces.  But, I digress.

Once in, we were treated to the usual massed-milling-about of the Incomparable LSJU “marching” Band.  And, blow me down, they actually did get into some sort of formation;  just don’t ask me what it was. 

But, what about that dancing thing that vaguely resembles a “tree,” you say?  Well, listen up, fans.  Starting in 1891, when Stanford beat Cal in the first Big Game, as was only fitting, the local Bay Area scribes used one of Stanford’s colors to refer to the team as the Cardinal (“Cardinal Triumphs O’er Blue and Gold”).  For reasons that remain obscure, the informal use of “Indian” as a team identifier gradually crept in until it was officially adopted in 1930.  Over the years, the informal depiction of the Indian on sweatshirts, etc. became truly offensive, as shown here. 

In 1972, in response to a petition by a group of Native American students, the Indian mascot and name were banished.  General moniker confusion reigned, but the color cardinal was the designated “official” appellation.  There was a move to reinstate the Indian as the school mascot in 1975. The debate was put to vote along with new suggestions demonstrating the eclectic range of student views about the school’s questionable founder: Robber Barons, Sequoias, Trees, Cardinals, Railroaders, Spikes, and Huns. In 1978, the griffin was proposed.  None of the suggestions were accepted.  Finally, in 1981, President Donald Kennedy, an otherwise wise and charming fellow and one of Loni’s favorite bio profs, ended the sturm und drang by  proclaiming “Cardinal” henceforth to be the exclusive symbol:  "While various other mascots have been suggested and then allowed to wither, the color has continued to serve us well, as it has for 90 years. It is a rich and vivid metaphor for the very pulse of life."  Bosh.  It’s stupid and we all know it.  So what about that tree?

Officially, there is no Stanford mascot.  There’s only the color.  Unofficially?  Ah, enter the Band.  The "Tree," which underneath is a member of the Stanford Band, selected by the Band in fevered competition, is representative of El Palo Alto, the Redwood tree which is the logo of the city of Palo Alto, Stanford’s home.  The tree supposedly still exists by the railroad bridge beside San Francisquito Creek – it is the site where early explorers first camped when settling the area.  Every year, a new “Tree” student is chosen, and that student is responsible for designing and making his/her own version of the Tree, for better or worse.  I think the four above are particularly dreadful, but that’s just me.  What is undisputed is that the Tree is the coolest mascot in the country.  Ignore those nattering national polls whose voters every year vote it the worst.  Pedestrian, plebian, proles, all of them!

Oh, yeah, the game.  Stanford and Wisconsin were pretty evenly matched, and it wasn’t pretty, but the Cardinal pulled it out with a 20-14 win (that’s the final on the scoreboard below, although the clock shows 20 minutes.  And three for three?  Well, in the “modern era,” which is, of course, defined by my lifespan, Stanford has won the Rose Bowl only three times, and each time we’ve been there:  1971, 1972, and 2013.  I can cheerfully report that the 1971 ticket cost $8.00. 

And the fans did, indeed, go wild!

45 YEARS? 45 YEARS!

October 4-6, 2012

Oye.  Nothing puts you into a funk faster than realizing another “milestone” reunion is upon you.  What’s alarming is that they seem to be coming around faster and faster.  Slow down!  This time it was my 45th Stanford reunion.  Gads.  Surely it was just a little while ago that I was racing across Quad, late (again) for class?  Oh.  Right.  That was my kids, and the younger is getting close to his tenth.  As you see, I’m still sporting that old-man beard as Loni and I relax in front of MemAud.  That fountain sure wasn’t there 45 years ago, along with a lot of other infrastructure changes.  On the whole, despite a lot of new buildings and reconfiguring roads, Stanford has done a very nice job of retaining the beauty of the campus and its view sightlines.  Considering the money they’ve had to work with, they ought to have.

This reunion followed the script from the many we have attended in the past.  Classes gather for lunches at their year’s tent (don’t know why I’m looking so gloomy, it wasn’t bad at all; that’s Chuck and Alice with me).  We attend “Classes Without Quizzes” on a wide spectrum of topics.  I always pick things from disciplines I never had much to do with as an undergrad, mostly the science and engineering stuff.  Loni goes her own way to whatever strikes her fancy.  One of the classes I attended was in the “Project Realization” facility.  There’s a complete woodworking shop, metal working, plastics, laser cutters, 3-D printers, etc.  Just about everything needed for a student to build whatever he/she can design.  Very cool.  There are panel presentations and guest speakers in MemAud, which are always interesting.

Another nifty class I attended was the virtual reality lab.  Here we got to put on these big goggles and “stroll” about one of several environments.  The one shown is some plaza in Spain.  The wall projection is just so that those waiting their turn can see what the wearer is seeing as he/she stumbles about the room;  what you see through the goggles is much better.  The guide has to keep stopping the wearer from walking into someone or a wall, as they think they are striding about the plaza.  The effect was pretty good, but certainly far from lifelike.

Our favorite event each reunion is the colossally overpriced “Dinner On The Quad.”  This year they seemed more challenged than usual in getting reasonably warm food to the table.  Since they’ve been doing this every year for decades, you’d think they’d have it down pat by now.  Even so, the setting is beautiful, and we wouldn’t miss it.  I met Chuck my freshman year, we were fraternity brothers the next three.  Alice trained with Loni as a med tech, and right after I met her we introduced them to each other.  First date was a double with us at Dodger Stadium.  They married within months and, 40+ years later, we’re still all together.

Reunion weekend is always on a football game weekend.  This year the opponent was Arizona and the game turned out to be a doozy.  Stanford came from way behind to tie it at 48 (!) all just before regulation ran out, then won it in overtime.  We really had written them off in this one, and it was a very exciting finish.  Now, if we hadn’t been absolutely jobbed at Notre Dame, we would have had an undefeated season.  Ah, well.  There would be glory yet to come.

Afterwards, we gathered back at the class tents area where we were surrounded by the incomparable zanies, if not musicians, of the Band.  Click on that link for a UTube video I took of the nonsense, including the dancing tree, which this year (it changes every year, depending upon the imagination of the student who plays the part and makes the costume) seemed particularly weird.  Both of our boys played in the Band when they were here, so we forgive just about anything the group does.  As at all our reunions, we had a great time.  This October, it’s Loni’s turn.  Can’t wait.  The game will be against UCLA, so a sure sellout.  Let’s hope the celebration is the same.

LEE & KELLY GET MARRIED

September 8-9, 2012

A little history.  I’ve known Lee since my freshman year in high school.  We dated the same girl (his first wife), engaged in, well, I’ll call them hijinks in retrospect, but at least one of them landed us in the police station, became Delta Chi fraternity brothers at Stanford, took the LSAT together (his idea, not mine), both chased crooks for Uncle Sam in our early careers, and have stayed good buds all these decades. While I continued as a miserable (as in mental state, not competence, thank you) lawyer, Lee abandoned that nonsense early on for tens of thousands of days of skiing and mountain biking.  You wouldn’t know it from the follicle-challenged old geezer in the photo, but he was a wild youth (heck, wild younger man, middle-aged man, and old fart as well).  Known throughout the Tahoe Basin ski crowd as “Uncle Lee,” this derelict of the wanton life was headed for no good end when he was incredibly blessed by a chance meeting with Kelly.  It must be true that no libertine life goes unrewarded.  Kelly is a peach.  Now, what she saw in Lee . . . Anyway, after a couple of years of living in sin, they finally tied the knot at Kelly’s their home in Carson City.

We got there the day before and joined Lee, Kelly, Lee’s brother Gene, and sis-in-law Candy, for a day in Virginia City, which is a pretty rockin’ place if Western and bluegrass is your thing.  Well, so it is!  I forget which of the many saloons this was, but we had a good time hooting and hollering with the best of them.

Wedding Day found us all mostly sober and ready to go.  Lee’s been a landscaping guy for many years as his summer job, and his gardens were blooming away.  The dining tent was set up in the side yard amidst the flowerbeds.  That’s brother Gene on the right.

The ceremony started with a wedding processional played on the kazoos that had been passed out beforehand to all the guests.  I have video of this, but haven’t figured out yet how to edit out a snippet to upload.  If I figure it out, I’ll insert it here later.  The weather was beautiful, the bride and groom radiated happiness, and a good time was had by all, even the tux-garbed family pooch.  Loni’s talking to Bruce V., Lee’s next-door neighbor from our high school days.  Motown ties endure.  That was one good cake!

A long, happy life together for you both!

MOST VALUABLE ANTIQUES

August, 2012.    “Remember, the most valuable antiques are dear old friends.”  -- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

What could be smarter than to go to Modesto in August?  It cools off to the 90’s around midnight, after all.  Shorts, tropical shirt, and sandals and you’re packed.  Of course, it helps to be there with old friends from high school.  We used to do this every 4 or 5 years, but Father Time is giving us more motivation and it’s becoming an annual get-together.  Bob and Consuela again were the best of hosts and I can’t imagine a better venue than their back porch and yard.  Who knew JB could grill?

Stan Wilson, our English teacher for two years who gave us all valuable tools we used throughout our lives, was able to make it at age 89.  Sadly, as I write this in 2013, his health is failing.  We hope to see him again this summer.  If not, we know he appreciated the late-life affection we poured on him after “rediscovering” him in 2011.

The food keeps getting better and better each year, but this one will be hard to top.  What’s with the yellow lenses, Lee?  The better to see the grub?

Getting a group picture is always a challenge with point-and-shoot cameras, even with a decent one like my S-95.  With just a single flash, it’s impossible to get the right exposure on the near and far faces.  Good onya, gang.  Hope we’re all back this year!

  Oh, yeah.  Don’t worry P-B.

  What happens in Motown, stays in Motown.

:>)

HIGH FA-SCOOTIN’

August,2012.     We belong to the main scooter club in the area, the Los Angeles Scooter Group, which has hundreds of members and runs three or four organized rides a month.  All skill levels and sizes of scooters are included, so the rides are varied in order to accommodate the differences.  A splinter group sprang up last year called, embarrassingly, the Adventurists.  It’s for more experienced riders who want more difficult routes (read, curves and hills).  Scoots have to be at least 150cc in order to keep up, 250cc if you’re going to ride two-up, like we do often.  One of the early rides was to start out by our house, so we invited everyone over for a pre-ride danish, donuts, and coffee knosh.  I’m sure the neighbors were thrilled.  While Loni and I did KP duty, our ride leader, Justin, read out a few “rules of the road” for group riding.

Our destination for the day was the Santa Monica Mountains, which are loaded with squirrely roads, but specifically The Rock Store, perhaps the most famous of all biker hangouts.  What better spot for a load of scooterists?  It resides along Mulholland Highway, and you can see its squiggles on the map below.

You can see an area labeled “Victory Jon Photography on the map, at a particularly hairy turn called “The Snake.”  He sits there every weekend and photographs everything that passes by, then posts every day’s pics and offers to sell a high-res copy for way too much money.  The best I can do is to link to a shot of us passing by his lens.  This link might disappear after some time passes, so don’t blame me if it doesn’t work.  We did a little sightseeing along the way, had a brew at the Rock, and mounted up for the ride home.  A fun day.

Later in August, Loni bagged out but I went alone with the group on a huge rally held each year in the south bay area, called Swerve ‘n Curve.  A south bay club hosts this one, and we just join in.  Our contingent met up at one of L.A.’s icons.  I think my lime jacket is getting a little faded.  Time to get a new one.

This year the ralley was gigantic, almost too big.  Well over 200 scoots, which can be a nightmare for other motorists as the group tries to stay together through city streets.

 

After a lot of horn-honking, red-light running, and assorted fist-waving, we made it down through the beach communities to the Palos Verdes Peninsula where there were less lights and a lot more scenery along the ocean.  A rest stop shot gives you an idea of the number of bikes, but there’s even more behind me from where I’m taking this picture.  The cliffs overlooking the ocean are just to the left, where you can see those two little figures.

The end-of-ride destination was some rich bloke’s house there on the peninsula.  Very nice of him to host the party.  They had a band, drinks & nibbles, and a poolside lawn area where we could mingle about.  I love his neon scoot! And, all riders are welcome on this one.

MORE CATCH-UP; MOM & CAMP 2012

July, 2012.    Still trying to blog the rest of 2012.  I’ve always been a world-class procrastinator, but this is pretty ridiculous.  Mom comes out from Indianapolis every July to go with us for a week up to camp at Fallen Leaf Lake.  She’s always glad to escape the Indiana heat and humidity, and is not above gloating about our coastal weather to her friends back home.  Note the 68 degrees shown in the lower right of the clock.  Mom was 89 in this photo.  She’s been dying that hair for at least 50 years, and the beauticians marvel at how fine and soft it still is.  You got the genes, Mom!

July, of course, means the 4th and our local parade for which most of the town turns out.  It’s virtually the same from year-to-year, but no one cares.  They do draw some excellent bands, including one of the Marine Corps units, always a favorite.

Camp is always a highlight of our year.  We’ve been doing it now for 31 years.  While it’s all familiar, it’s never the same.  For us, it’s a great opportunity to share our cabin (2 bedroom) for a week with a rotating cast of family and friends.  This year, John and Meghan joined us.  It was the first time in many years that John was able to come up, and it was Meghan’s first.

Unfortunately, poor Meghan, despite her brave front, was really suffering from a flu-like bug that laid her low for the first few days, fever, congestion, the whole works.  The rest of us were lucky to escape unscathed.  She was able to enjoy some hiking and boating the second half of the week, so it wasn’t a total loss.  The kayaking is on Fallen Leaf.  The hike is on the way to Grass Lake.  The smiley faces are in front of Lake Winnemucca.   

John and I did the more strenuous hike without the gals.  This year that was a trek to Lake Jabu.  It’s an all-day affair, and the route of choice is to caravan up to Echo Lakes, about a half hour away.  We then pay our money to ride the launch from the eastern base of the lower lake to the western far side of the upper, including threading the “Jungle Cruise” portion between the two lakes (called Dartmouth Cove, for no explicable reason) where we watch for animatronic hippos.  Once at the far end, we hike up to Lake Aloha, which lies in the Desolation Wilderness.  It’s always interesting to see whether it’s been a good winter or a mild one.  Aloha is very shallow, and in the summer following poor snow years it’s more of a collection of rock islands surrounded by scant water.  This year, however, it was  fairly full, but not as good as in the best years. 

We follow Aloha’s northeast shore for a while until we hit the magic turnoff point, where we’re supposed to turn right and clamber up a steep shale face to reach Jabu, which is perched on the very top.  This turn is completely unmarked, and depending on who’s leading the hike, varies from year to year.  This year, we blew it big time, and turned off way too late.  This resulted in a lot of lateral rock hopping along the slope as we tried to find the right “saddle” above which lay Jabu.  There were as many opinions as hikers, but we did finally find it.d  The views are great in both directions:  looking across the lake at the peaks behind Aloha (Pyramid left?  Agassiz right?), and then over the cliff back towards Fallen Leaf in the distance.

We skipped Games Day, which is great for families with kids, in order to spend the day driving to Carson Pass and taking our favorite hike to Lake Winnemucca.  Since you start at the top of the pass, the trail is mostly flat or gently rolling all the way to the lake.  Mom even did this one into her early 80’s.  Puffing and protesting, of course, but she did it.  This year was pretty decent for wildflowers, although not the huge displays of the best years.  We ate lunch on the big rocks around the lake.

You can’t beat sharing Camp with family.  This was a very good year.  Except for the beard.