Coronavirus: Los Angeles: 2021. #8 (February 29)

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"And now for the rest of the story": Recently a reader wrote in about their fake ID experience, as follows: "On another note yes, when I first moved to California I was 18 and I needed  to get a fake drivers license for gainful employment. Back then easy to get and yes I got a great job as a bartender when I was under age so I can was able to make the big bucks and afford to live in California!"

A few days ago, we ran into the ex-bartender's spouse, and got the rest of this story.  They did meet in a bar, and started dating.  After a few months, the bartender called and said: "Come over to my place; there's something we need to talk about".  Now, when your main squeeze tells you that, you know the conversation is probably not going to be a lot of fun.

The spouse went over to the bartender's place, anticipating the bad news that their relationship was over.  But no.  What the bartender told him was that she was not 23 (per her fake ID), as she had told him when they first met at the bar, but only 19, and she felt she had to come clean.  He was very relieved to get this news, and it was fine by him.  They have been married for about 30 years now.

Tuesday, February 16: Today, I looked back at my diary entry for this date last year (2020).  Our friends and former next-door-neighbors in Studio City, Tony and Analee, held a lovely Sunday brunch at their house.  (Tony and Analee still live there on Cantura Street; we moved away in 1997.  Tony's older sister Deanne fixed Nadine up with a blind date in 1960; that date turned out to be Nadine's first husband, Darryl.) 

February 16, 2020, was a beautiful California winter day; sunny and cool and clear. It was a great brunch: some old friends, some new acquaintances; champagne, great food, fun and interesting conversation.  One of those parties which you hate to see come to end.

When I look back now on that brunch, what jumps into my mind is the Titanic. (A stretch of an analogy, I know, and the time scales are quite different.). But, on that day in February 2020, we were sailing along, having fun, enjoying life, with only a few concerns about our future, or so we thought.

Sure, POTUS45 was still in office, but we could look forward to that ending in less than a year; little did we realize then how close that iceberg would come to downing our ship. And yes, climate change still needed to be addressed; after forest fires and tropical storms and winter calamities, we see much more clearly that iceberg is getting closer and closer every day.  And, yes, the coronavirus had been announced in China, but it seemed remote and containable.  I don't remember it being discussed at all that day. 

Now, a year later, we barely dodged a POTUS45-incitied challenge, climate change is wreeking havoc over wide swaths of America, and we are still living under COVID restrictions with the worldwide death toll in the millions.

Thursday, February 18: Got our 2nd shots at The Forum.  Much like our first shots.  In and out in about 75 minutes.  Although the lines of cars were long, the whole process was well organized and moved along well.  I have not had any significant side effects since; Nadine's arm was sore for about a day or two.  It feels as if we were just issued our "Get Out Of Jail Free" cards.

Saturday, February 20: Went to the community garden to see how my winter crop was fairing: cabbage, chard, potatoes, lettuce; all doing well.  Ran into fellow gardeners Susan and Jefferson there.  I had never met Jefferson before, and Nadine had not met either of them.  The four of us had a kind of get-to-know-you chat....all with masks on and six-feet distances.  Afterward, I felt appreciation that we had actually talked to real people in real life for a few minutes. So unusual these days.

Friday, February 26: Our first excursion to the grocery stores in about two months; Whole Foods and Trader Joes.  Early "seniors" hours for us, and double-masked.  Very uncrowded.  Nadine very happy to pick out her own fruits and veggies.  Me very happy to get TJ's hummus and tabouli.

First Real Jobs

Our granddaughter Clara, age 14,  is looking for her first job.  Clara will be 16 in July.  Thought she had one at a pizza place, but they then changed their minds.  She is still looking, but says it's hard to get a job because of her age.  Got me to thinking about my first real job.

I did have some small jobs when I was younger.  Mostly cutting the lawn for the neighbors who lived across the street in Havertown, PA.  Never did have a paper route.

My first "real job" was the summer of 1952, age 16.  My dad was a district manger for Mobil Oil in Buffalo NY.  He got me a summer job working in a neighborhood gas station that was about eight blocks from our 2nd floor flat on Linwood Ave.  I could ride my bike to work.

The operators of the gas station were Jim Landis and Clarence "Pruney" Blackwell. I never did find out how he got the nickname Pruney.  They actually operated two stations, the one near my then home, and another one further out where I later worked when we moved to the suburbs.

The station was open 7 days a week, from 7AM until 11PM.  The work shifts were odd.  Each shift worked from noon until 11PM one day, and then came back from 7AM until noon the following day.  Then those workers had 24 hours off, from noon that day until noon the following day.  This was good because in the summer I could then go to the beach or do other things, and did not have to worry about getting up early to get to work the next day.

There was no "self serve" or "full serve" in those days.  It was just a "service station".  When you came in for gas, an attendant would hustle out and ask you how much you wanted.  "Fill'er up" or just a certain cash amount.  I don't remember any gasoline credit cards or debit cards or any kind of "card".  After the gas was pumped, we would automatically wash your windows, and then ask if you wanted to have the oil and water checked, or the tire pressure.  

I was very nervous the first time a customer drove in, and it was my turn wait on them.  I learned how to pump gas, check the oil and water levels, wash cars, put a car up on the lube rack, lube cars and change the oil and filter, fix a flat tire and mount a new tire, replace a rusted out muffler, clean and adjust the spark plugs, make change, and put a rod down into the underground tanks to see if we needed a delivery soon.

The winters in Buffalo can be pretty severe.  One of the worst parts of the job was doing lube jobs in the winter.  The car was up on the lift rack.  Due to the slush and ice on the streets, there were patches of ice on the underside of the car (even icicles), that would start to melt in the garage, and the very cold drops would fall into your face as you looked up to find the lube points under the car.

I was paid about 90 cents an hour.  Gasoline was about 25 cents a gallon, and so was a quart of oil.  Cars burnt a lot more oil in those days than they do now.  When you got a new car, you were supposed to drive it under 50 mph for the first 3,000 miles to "work in the engine".

At the end of the summer, Jim and Pruney knew that I had been saving most of my earnings, and they asked me what I was going to do with the money. I told them that I wanted to get a car.  They told me that if I did get a car, I would be back asking for weekend work during the school year so I could have money for gas and oil for the car.

My mother and I bought the car jointly.  It was a red 1947 Ford two-door sedan with a straight-6 engine.  I never paid for insurance or registration; I guess my parents did.  Jim and Pruney were right.  Within a few weeks, I was back working one or two shifts on the weekends during the school year, and full time for at least the remainder of my high school years.  Also there, I could do my own oil changes and lubes and minor repairs, on my own time.

But it was worth it.  Because I was older than most of the kids in my class, I had both a driver's license and wheels, which made me more in demand among my peers.  Not sure when my mother ever got to use the car.

Pruney and Jim were great bosses to work for.  They always treated me well, maybe because I was a pretty dependable and hard worker, or maybe because my dad was a big macher with Mobil Oil, or maybe both.

Clara, I hope your first boss, whoever that is, is a good one.

Coronavirus: Los Angeles: 2021. #7 (February 16)

As always: many of us get too many emails already, even before this pandemic.  So, if you would like to be removed from this email list, please feel free to say so.  (No reason needed; and you won’t be the first to do so.————————————————————————————————————

Readers responses re fake IDs:

• "The strangest story I ever heard about fake ID's was during a nail appointment.  The woman at the adjacent station (a bit younger than myself-but not by much) was talking/bragging about how SHE got a fake ID for her son so that he could go to Las Vegas!!"
• "Fake ID? Gee, I wasn't into drinking, a nerd, but questioned in my 20's in restaurants when wanting some wine in MY glass.   I didn't look my age until after forty...and it's been all downhill since."
• "On another note yes, when I first moved to California I was 18 and I needed  to get a fake drivers license for gainful employment. Back then easy to get and yes I got a great job as a bartender when I was under age so I can was able to make the big bucks and afford to live in California!"
• "When I was 15, my brother gave me a fake ID of his. It said I was 18 (at the time, that was good enough to get you into a music club, but not to buy beer). I used that ID dozens of times to go see concerts in sweaty, seedy Hollywood clubs, like the Whiskey-a-Go-Go. Without that ID, I would have missed out on a lot of good times."

And my comment: Speaking how old one looks....or not: In the paper on the day after Super Bowl LV, photos of Tom Brady look like he is one-half his actual age, which is 43.  Not fair.

And re the Super Bowl and Amanda Gorman: has there ever been anyone else who made guest appearances at both a presidential inauguration and a Super Bowl in the same year?  

We get our second COVID shots on Thursday. Can't wait.

Coleman

 A little late...but In case you have not seen it yet...from YouTube...Pfizer for your Valentine

A few weeks ago, I included photos of cabbage seedlings I started in egg cartons in the window of our den.  Here they are now, Napa cabbage on the left, and green cabbage on the right.  I was worried when I moved them to the garden, but they came thru and are now flourishing (from Latin flos = flower) 

Coronavirus: Los Angeles: 2021. #6. (February 5)

 As always: many of us get too many emails already, even before this pandemic.  So, if you would like to be removed from this email list, please feel free to say so.  (No reason needed; and you won’t be the first to do so.————————————————————————————————————

Monday, February 1: Our twin granddaughters, Chelsea and Lindsay, turn 21 today.  I teased them that they could now discard their fake driver's licenses, which they both openly admit to having.  Or better yet, save in their keepsake boxes, to show to their teenage children in the years to come.  One of the young ladies paid $60 for hers, and got three fake cards.  This was good, because later, one or two of the fake cards were taken away from her in when she tried to buy beer.  Apparently the stores do this so they could prove to the authorities that they were cooperating in enforcing the law by "carding" minors.

This led to a general discussion of fake drivers licenses: who had them, how hard were they to get, how much did they cost, and why did we want them.  When I say "we", I do not mean Nadine and I.  Neither of us ever considered that possibility.

Would love to hear back from you, my audience: Anecdotes about the overall experience of having or using a fake ID?  What year was it?  How much did it cost?  Was it hard or easy to obtain?  Why did you decide to get one?  Etc.  

Tuesday, February 2: Groundhog Day.  Have not heard much about Punxsutawney Phil this year.  Upstaged by COVID and politics

Among the over-65 set, vaccine (vax) shots are the talk of the town.  Have you gotten an appointment? Where? When? What's the best phone number to call?  Oh, you got yours; how was it?  How long did it take?  Any reactions afterward?  Scheduled for your second shot?

The best reports we have heard are from Kaiser locations.  We have three friends who have gone to three different Kaiser locations in Los Angeles, and all got in and out within 30 minutes, which includes the 15-minute mandatory wait after the shot to ensure no allergic reactions.  Other friends have experienced more trying attempts, including long wait times in standing lines.

Overall, the pace here seems to be picking up.  But there are problems.  LATimes reports that white folks are coming to vax sites in majority Black neighborhoods, thus limiting what's available for locals.  By going to the LACounty "vax megasite" at the LAForum in Inglewood, which is over 90% Black and/or Hispanic, I think Nadine and I fit into that group.  People who are poor, lack computer or internet skills, or don't have a car have much more limited access to the shots.

Wednesday, February 3: We have a friend whose name is Marjorie Green.  I expect to see an email from her any day announcing that she has changed her name.

My nomination for one of Detroit's most user-unfriendly creations: the "CheckEngine" light.  Decades ago, we had a Volvo sedan, and every time we drove into the mountains, the CheckEngine light would come on.  We would go to a service shop, they would hook it up to a diagnostic machine, and declare that they found nothing wrong, and they would reset the CheckEngine light.  Now the CheckEngine light has come on in my 2004 Honda Civic, which has a total of 73K miles on it, and just 754 miles in all of 2020.  What do I do? Ignore it? or take it in?  My proofreader urges me to take it in.

Friday, February 5: Restaurants in LA now open for outdoor dining.  We won't be doing that anytime soon, but it's good for those owners, cooks, waiters and others who work there.  Our neighbor down the hall works at Spago, and has started back to work this week.

Stay safe and sane.  So good to not hear much for days now from POTUS45.  Except he is not willing to testify at his impeachment trial...surprise, surprise.

Coleman