HEADED TOWARD CALIFORNIA 1959

HEADED TOWARD CALIFORNIA 1959, a photo by roberthuffstutter on Flickr.

I was on my way to the Union Station to board the Southern Pacific for my first trip to the West Coast. The train traveled the southern route, stopping at El Paso and other notable towns of the old Southwest. It was one great train ride for a 17 year old boy anxious for adventure.

It was the summer of 1959 and my Uncle Jim had arranged for me to spend the summer in California with his sister, Marietta, my aunt Marietta. I was sitting on a leather suitcase with just the right amount of stuff inside. I was going by train, a trip that turned out to be quite a memory (see Night in Juarez). My aunt lived within biking distance of Manhattan Beach, a place I became most familiar with that summer. It was a summer that would forever change my ideas and ambitions about America. It was a trip and an experience that is full of great memories. It was a summer I am sure my aunt Marietta never forgot. I was less than the perfect nephew once I found out about how much fun one could have staying on the beach all night.

The auto on the right side of this photo was a fast-back Pontiac and belonged to a steel-worker who was employed at Sheffield Steel. His wife was an invalid. Old Joe never made it home until after midnight and was the scoundrel of the neighborhood. His Pontiac could be seen parked in front of Steve's Tavern, located in Mt Washinton on Wilson Road. It was across the street from an old feed store and a BSA motorcycle shop. Kellys grocery store, Creekmore's grocery, Hooper's Garage and a chrome bumper replating factory were other businesses in that little area called Mt. Washington, an unincorporated part of the Kansas City and Independence, Missouri area called the inter-city. Fairmount and another small community named Maywood were nearby communities.

It was another era, for sure. On hot summer nights, one could hear the band playing until the wee hours of the morning at Steve's tavern. If the air was still, one could smell the BBQ aroma drifting about, plus the fragrance of the on-draught Falstaff beer. The windows of the bar were those opaque-type of cinder blocks made of pressed glass popular in that era.

Let me finish with a little bit of advice. We are only young once. When you are 18 and have dreams, go for them. Do not put them off.

You are only 18 once; your 20s last only one decade. Time goes fast. By the time you are in your mid 30s, hopefully, you will know where you are headed.