Polynesian destiny

tiki restaraunt new orleans 1950s

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 24, 1958

… never thought a restaurant could change my whole life, but now I understand how I was meant to live.

Mother almost didn’t let me go because she hardly knows my uncle. My father died when I was little and she only met this brother once. Lucky for me I convinced her that a responsible 16-year-old will be fine eating dinner with her uncle from out of town.

I’ve never seen anything like this place before. I was sitting in a wicker chair that looked like a throne and looking around at waitresses wearing sarongs and grass skirts. And palm plants with giant leaves. And paintings of scantily clad men and women on beaches. And bowls overflowing with tropical flowers. I was cooking little chunks of meat on a stick by holding them over a little fire in a metal container on our table. My fruit drink was served in a porcelain coconut with pineapple chunks and bright red cherries floating around in it.

It was swell to meet my uncle and be able to ask questions about my father. But it was like a special gift to learn that I will need to have a lot of money some day so I can move to a Polynesian Island. That’s where I will feel the most comfortable. Now I’m sure of it.                 

__________________________

Original image:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiki_culture
Published in: on February 22, 2016 at 4:02 am  Leave a Comment  

Owls on the porch

Macrame_Owls

Handwritten page of a diary dated June 2, 1976

… so it turned out to be a perfect excuse not to work this summer. Just lay around at Mom’s house and do almost nothing except eat her cooking and watch movies on her Betamax player. Because then it’s back to college for one more year and then the real world and that means a serious forever kind of job. I shudder at the thought.

I got home too late for dinner last night, so poor Mom hasn’t even had the pleasure of cooking for me yet. I woke up and went looking for her, hoping to talk her into making blueberry waffles. That’s when I saw them on the porch — not one dorky owl. FIVE DORKY OWLS IN A ROW. Huh?

I heard music coming from the den, and that’s where I find her listening to a cassette of “Royal Scam.” So if she’s cool enough to buy the new Steely Dan, why is she tying rope and beads together and making a sixth dorky owl? She didn’t even want to stop doing the dorky macrame for a while and fix waffles.

So confusing.

__________________________

Original image:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macram%C3%A9
Published in: on February 17, 2016 at 3:14 am  Comments (1)  

Does Grandma hate me?

pexels-photo

Handwritten page of a diary dated August 3, 1974

… knocked the sandcastle down because I thought Randy built it. Randy said “No man, Grandma built it and she went to the car to get a camera to take a picture of it.”

I really wished I hadn’ta done it, but I was not all the way worried because Grandma’s never been mad about anything ever. Even when we were playing kickball in her garage and knocked over a pile of plant pots. All she did was worry that we hadn’t gotten cut on any of the broken pieces.

This time though, she gave me this look which felt like jagged alien laser beams of cold mean hate. Really before today I thought Grandma was kind of pretty but when she was all of a sudden not smiling I noticed something I never saw before and that is that her face looks pretty old.

I remembered I brought my Big Chief writing tablet to use in case I got sunburned and had to sit under the umbrella. So I found it and wrote this letter:

Dear Grandma:

Randy and I wreck each other’s stuff all the time and I thought he made that sandcastle. Really I shoulda known it hadn’t been made by him because it was one of the most nice ones I ever saw. If you would forgive me I will do any of these things you want:

1. If you want to rebuild the sandcastle. I will bring you water from the lake whenever you need it to pack the sand tighter and help you in any other way including using my popsicle money to get you a cold drink.

2. Stay over at your house on Thursday night and watch “The Walton’s” with you.

3. Ride my bike to that store where they have the cans of very small tiny little oranges so you can teach me how to make that Jello salad we like (the one without cottage cheese in it) (but if it would make you love me again I’ll eat cottage cheese)

She read it and she smiled again!!!!!! She said “Horsefeathers, I never stopped loving you. Now let’s get to work.”

__________________________

Original image:
https://static.pexels.com/photos/26477/pexels-photo.jpg
Published in: on February 5, 2016 at 8:03 pm  Leave a Comment  

Rated X

250px-RWelch2

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 3, 1970

… guy named Tim. His parents own the movie theater downtown. I only talked to him once at school. About six months ago. But I told him I was really curious to see an X-rated movie sometime and I didn’t want to wait three more years till I was legally old enough. He said sure, he saw a few earlier this year. Easy. Then last week he came up to me after History and said “Myra Breckenridge” is coming. I hadn’t even heard of that movie but he assured me it’s rated X. So I said OK and he said he would let me in the alley door at 8 p.m. on Friday. Which is tonight.

I was nervous before it was time to walk downtown so I played the 45 I just bought “The Long and Winding Road” a few times and then I turned it over and played the B side called “For you Blue” which might actually be a better song if you ask me. Then I put it on again and got my tap shoes out and started making up this routine to it and before you know it, it was time to go.

If only I had just chickened out and stayed home tap dancing and listening to records I might not be a nervous wreck right now. I saw that movie and now I think I might be scarred for life. I nervously talked to Tim a few minutes out in the alley when it was over. I said maybe some day I might ask him a few questions because there was a lot I didn’t understand and he said he couldn’t be too much help because this wasn’t like the other X-rated movies he’s seen. I said OK. Then I high-tailed it out of there.

I’m 15 years old and my sex life is already over because I don’t think I can handle all the complicated things going on out there in the ADULT WORLD.

Original image:
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/hu/thumb/8/88/RWelch2.jpg/250px-RWelch2.jpg
Published in: on February 1, 2016 at 2:32 am  Comments (2)