The Blessing of An Unanswered Prayer

Country singer Garth, Brooks, croons about a man who desired a particular girl during high school. Oh, how he prayed with all of his might that he would be a perfect man should he be granted this one wish. Years later, at a reunion he realized the blessings he received by not being granted the wish.

                On the southwest corner of Noble Avenue and Tuba Street sat a house with a fence and backyard parallel to Noble Avenue. The family of this home owned two Doberman pincers.  Whenever Tony walked past this house, those dogs barked fiercely. It was enough to want to walk to the edge of the sidewalk in order to avoid them! The growl of their bark reached out over the fence. Tony had NO apparent fear of them! When he took a stroll past those ferocious creatures, he would hop up and smack the closest puppy in the face without any effort. As he laughed it was as if he had just daringly swat a fly!

                Tony was one of Billy’s best friends up until their high school years at James Monroe. It was then the friendship waned due to a misunderstanding. While Billy was my on and off again boyfriend, I always had a steady crush on Tony. It seemed that when I was seriously seeing Billy, Tony was not seeing anyone. When Tony was seriously seeing someone, Billy and I were not together. More than anything, though, he was my friend. We shared insults with one another, even buying insult books at the Northridge Mall that summer of 1979 when we all went to see Meatballs starring Bill Murray. It was our game to see who could insult the other the worst, all done in fun. He even loaned me his locker in D Hall the whole time I was at Monroe. I still have the combination in a little yellow book that I kept such information.

When Billy had surgery on his knees during the spring of 1981, he was out of school for a week. Tony walked me to my classes and then met me afterwards, this included walking with me to and from home. I don’t think my dad liked him because Tony waited for me at the sidewalk instead of coming to the door. But he was my protector while Billy was convalescing.  Billy was jealous. Nothing came of it, just Tony watching out for me because in his eyes I was “Billy’s girl.” It was as if they had this unspoken code that they did not go after each other’s girl. I fell hard for Tony. He was unbelievably handsome! His mustache…oh my! He was athletic, too, running for James Monroe.  However, it was that respect and consideration that tugged at my heart strings.

In high school Tony frequently dated, or so it seemed to me, always looking for someone to fill a void. His home life was fraught with constant turmoil. Growing up, Billy’s home was the haven for him even though they too, had their share of woes. When I was in the 10^th Grade and he was in the 11^th, he went to live with relatives in New Jersey for several months.  We wrote back and forth but he only had eyes for Elysa Wyneken. I paled in looks dramatically compared to Elysa. My heart skipped a beat when I found out that he was back – sadly for Billy. But then, it was sad for me when he eagerly began dating Elysa – much to her parent’s strong dismay! Still…on one hand I was in love with Billy with a huge crush on Tony. Life is interesting.

We lost touch as we left high school. I went on to serve a mission for my church - South Carolina. One of my friends went to Chicago. I knew that Tony had plans of being there. My friend, Cory, watched for him but to no avail. As the years came and went I kept searching for him – and Billy. My kids, never having met either of them, kept an open eye for them. Tony and I finally connected in April of 2010 through a mutual friend on a social networking site. We talked for three hours! The longings from the years past hopefully would come into play.

Tony was still the Tony I knew from way back when. When we talked, it felt as if we were back in those days of which I so missed. His voice was the same. He still had the same sense of humor. But he wasn’t the same. Neither was I. No longer a naive seventeen year old, I was about to become a grandmother for the first time. I wanted things to be the same except that too much life had happened along the way. Tony reminded me of the character played by Neil Diamond, Jess Rabinovic, in the 1980 version of The Jazz Singer. He was still trying to find where he fit into society.  One day he stopped calling. Part of me was relieved and the other hurt. In the end, there was closure. It took about a year and the prayer was at long last answered.

My kids grew up hearing the stories from that period. We put him upon the same pedestal that we put Billy on, which was high. I was able to take him down to rest. I could now be grateful that there was never an intimate relationship between us. As it was, our lives went in very different directions. Neither was easy by any means. Moreover, I could now say with conviction that I was glad that we met up just for that brief moment in history. I could stop wondering what became of him. I could continue laughing every time I thought of him slapping those fierce beasts. I could still sigh whenever I thought of circa 1979 Tony Toth. And with peace, I could close that chapter and move on, thankful for the blessings that were given to me instead.

(I hope you are well, my friend.)

Kelli L. McDonald

1 February 2014

Eagle Mountain, Utah

 

Dad's Lincoln

                The weather was warm – what we call the calm before the storm. The gas attendant was gingerly cleaning the gas pumps. Not seeing the point of cleaning them when a storm was approaching, I told the story about my dad.

                “I remember once when my dad did that, “ I mentioned as I got out to fill my tank.

                “He was cleaning his nice, fancy car inside and out. Actually, it was a used Lincoln and it was December 23, 1983…”

                We lived out in Lake Los Angeles, California. A lake it wasn’t, just dirt and wind. To clean a car was pointless because it would just get dirty again, especially if a storm was coming. Dad practically spit-shined that car. We drove out to Sylmar to pick up my step-mom from work. While we were waiting for her to get off, Dad started picking lint and other unseen tidbits off the upholstery. Sarcastically, I said, “Guy, Dad, it’s so clean you could lick it off!” He scowled at me to mind my own business. The next night the sky let loose some heavy rain. We drove to church and then out to the cemetery to visit Uncle Ray’s grave. Ray was one of Dad’s older brothers who had died the previous June. The road leading to the cemetery was called Avenue S. It was dirty and not well developed like it is today. It was filled with pot-holes and muddy water that splashed all over Dad’s nice, shiny, clean car. I snickered and laughed like  no other! It was payback. When we got home, Dad sprayed that car off good! I don’t remember if I said anything else after that. I probably did, knowing my frame of mind in those days.

                The gas attendant smiled. I think he needed something to do to keep him busy – being that it was Sunday in Utah and slow.

Just For You

This morning Lizzy woke up and put the ipad in bed with her. She knows how to turn it on to play the games and stories. It’s an activity that has become routine as I get ready for work. Several of her favorites are the Starfall apps, especially the turkey one. When she gets something right, the app plays a tune from Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer. She loves to move her hands as if she is leading the orchestra. She has a smile of satisfaction when I mimic her, like she knows she is accomplishing something tremendous!

                The other apps that she likes to watch are Mercer Mayer’s books. On this particular morning I was taken back in time – again – as I prepared for work. Way back before Lizzy was even a twinkle in Brook’s eyes and even further back before Brook was a twinkle in my own, young, innocent eyes ( I can hear John and Brook cough and choke at young, innocent), Dad worked for a company that installed security systems. He not only installed the alarms but maintained them as well. So, anytime they malfunctioned or went off, the technicians were alerted and sent out to investigate. This gave Dad the opportunity to meet some very famous people, including Mercer Mayer’s mother.

                Mercer Mayer wrote and illustrated children’s books. On one of Dad’s calls, he was sent out to the home of Mr. Mayer’s mother. She gave Dad a copy of the book, Just for You. I still have it. It is truly ranked as one of my favorites. I have read it to hundreds of children throughout the years.

                Technology is so accessible today that my toddler grandchildren can watch and hear the books on a thin tablet at the touch of a baby finger - while sitting in bed. As the story is read, the words being read are high-lighted in blue, except for the Christmas one. The letters pop out in red. When a picture is touched, the name of it springs out in blue letters, again, red for the Christmas version. When the spider and grasshopper are touched, they are tallied at the end of the story. The book has gone from being a paper-backed copy to an interactive game that a 14 month old child can manipulate. When the book came out, we thought we were so modern with what was then available. I have heard that we haven’t even scratched the surface of what will be offered in the future. I look forward to seeing what my grandchildren will be “reading” to their children. By the same token, I am thankful for having what we did have, such as paper copies of books. I am also thankful for my dad having the job that he did have at that time.

                Kelli McDonald

                9 December 2013

Pomegranates

Pomegranates

          Fall isn’t fall without eggnog and pomegranates. The San Fernando Valley of Southern California was built around orchards: oranges, lemons, grapefruits, apples, avocados, and pomegranates. When the Developers came through and produced the never-ending sub-divisions during the Post-War years of the 1950’s and 1960’s, they kept many of those orchards on the property of the new homes. An area of the Valley was even named for the pomegranates, Granada Hills. Granada is the Spanish equivalent. The neat, rounded shrubs were introduced to California in 1769.

          In December of 2000, I decided it was time take a walk back in time to that place that my thoughts idolized for years. I drove through the streets we walked through as kids. We plucked those precious gems off the trees that grew so freely. One of the yards had overgrown pomegranate trees. They were wasting away on the ground! Recently we paid $2.59 per pomegranate in Lehi, Utah! It is a yearly tradition for us to purchase them – regardless of the cost. Like eggnog, that is only sold during the Fall months.

          As kids we plucked them from all the trees. We would split them open on street signs when we did not want to use our fingernails. Many times some went bad simply because we had too many!

          When I was a small child, my mom made jelly from the precious juice of pomegranates. Her father would serve me Shirley Temples, a non-alcoholic drink made from concentrated pomegranate juice, 7-Up and a maraschino cherry. My whole life, I thought she made popsicles, too, from pomegranates. When I turned 43, I asked her about it. Nope, just the jelly!

          During an unusually enormous windstorm that swept through during the Fall of 1981, the fruit blew off those old trees. They rolled down the streets. My brothers, always resourceful when it came to something free, grabbed several large greenish black, trash bags. They filled all of those bags. We had free fruit for some time. I made fresh squeezed juice. Such a treat!

          November 2006, my mom, my daughter, and I sat in Mom’s t.v. room eating pomegranates while watching the final episode of M*A*S*H*.  She had never seen it, although she had wanted to. I had viewed it when it was first aired back in 1983.

          My boyfriend, Bill Schumacher, and I raced home from school. The whole world was going to watch the finale. We were in school at Los Angeles Valley College. Our classes were late getting out. We arrived home in time to see the part where Hawkeye was in the mental ward. He was trying to piece together the events that lead him there. I never saw the beginning until November 10, 2006 when my kids and I watched it. The eleventh and final series was a birthday gift from my kids. We own the entire series. It is an integral part of our lives, so much so that when I hear the introduction music, I can close my eyes and feel as if I am a teen-age again.

          My mom was giving me things that she no longer needed. I wanted to share something that was meaningful. Pomegranates and a television show that epitomized my childhood for good and for bad. She had a picture of her graduating class from high school .They were the first graduating class of James Monroe High School in Sepulveda, California. I, too, attended twenty years after she did. I well remember the building the picture was taken next to, T-Hall. I had classes in that same building. I had seen this picture countless times. This time, a face other than my mother’s looked familiar. I wondered if it was Donna Ludwig, Richie Valen’s girlfriend. As if she knew what I was thinking, my mom stood beside and pointed her out. Mom had once told me that she knew Donna, but that was it. I did not realize that the girl went to Monroe as well. Mom described the group of friends Donna hung out with and the response after Richie died in a plane crash. Our family has since stood together at the very spot the picture was taken so long ago. We have paid our respects at Richie’s grave site as well as his beloved mother.

          Today, tales of its benefits are widely circulated. Religions tout it as a symbol of righteousness. Folk medicine considers it an astringent. It is used as a natural dye for synthetic fabrics. The culinary world considers it a spice. There are even advertisements boasting of its cleansing powers. When I was a kid, it was just an unusual fruit. Today, it is a sacred tradition. We have now passed this tradition on to my grandchildren. Lizzy loves to go around our home saying, “I love pomogwanits!”

          For my next birthday, Mom blessed me with a small case of pomegranates.

Kelli McDonald

October 2013

Remember?

Remember?

Close your eyes…And go back…

Before the Internet or the MAC,

Before semiautomatics and crack

Before chronic and indo

Way back…

I’m talkin’ about hide and go seek at dusk.

Sittin’ on the porch

Hot bread and butter.

Eatin’ a super dooper sandwich, (Dagwood),

Red light, Green light.

Chocolate milk, Lunch tickets,

Penny candy in a brown paper bag.

Hopscotch, butterscotch, double Dutch

Jacks, kickball, dodge ball, y’all!

Mother, May I?

Hula Hoops and Sunflower Seeds,

Jawbreakers, blowpops, Mary Janes,

Running through the sprinkler (I can’t get wet!

All right, well don’t wet my hair…)

The smell of the sun and lickin’ salty lips…

Wait….

Catchin’ lightining bugs in a jar,

Playin slingshot and Red Rover.

When around the corner seemed far away,

And going downtown seemed like going somewhere.

Bedtime, Climbing trees.

A million mosquito bites and sticky fingers.

Cops and robbers,

Cowboys and Indians,

Sittin on the curb,

Jumping down the steps,

Jumpin on the bed.

Pillow fights

Being tickled to death

Runnin” till you were out of breath

Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt.

Being tired from playin’…Remember that?

I ain’t finished just yet…

What happened to the girl that had the big bubbly handwriting?

Licking the beaters when your mother made a cake.

When there were two types
of sneakers for girls and boys

(Keds and PF Flyers),

and the only time you wore them at school, was for “gym.”

When nearly everyone’s mom was at home when the kids got there.

When nobody owned a purebred dog.

When a quarter was a decent allowance, and another quarter a huge bonus.

When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny.

When girls neither dated nor kissed until late high school, if then.

When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces .

When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers wore skirts and high heels and had their hair done, every week!

When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free, every time.

And, you didn’t pay for air. And, you got trading stamps to boot!

When laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box.

When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought a thing of it.

When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.

When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed…and did!

When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home.

Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc.

Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!

Decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo.”

Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!”

“Race issue” meant arguing about who ran the fastest.

Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in “Monopoly.”

Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening.

It wasn’t odd to have two or three “best” friends.

Being old, referred to anyone over 20.

The net on a tennis court was the perfect height to play volleyball and rules didn’t matter.

The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties.

It was magic when dad would “remove” this thumb.

It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn’t an Olympic event.

Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot.

Nobody was prettier than Mom.

Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.

It was a big deal to finally be tall enough to ride the “big people” rides at the amusement park.

Getting a foot of snow was a dream come true.

Abilities were discovered because of a “double-dog-dare>

Saturday morning cartoons weren’t 30-minute ads for action figures.

No shopping trip was complete, unless a new toy was brought home.

“Oly-oly-oxen-free” made perfect sense.

Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.

The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.

War was a card game.

Water balloons were the ultimate weapons.

Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle.

Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin (at least until the late 60’s kicked in).

Ice cream was considered a basic food group.

Older siblings were the worst tormentors, but also the fiercest protectors.

If you can remember most or all of these, then you have LIVED!!!

~Cindy Sherman S”66

James Monroe High School

Sepulveda, California