I hatched the plan to take everybody out to lunch—in Huntington Beach, on or near the pier. So, on Wednesday, that's what we did.
A change of pace. Ocean air. Grooviness.
We all remembered Huntington Beach and environs of long ago—circa early 60s. We remember all those oil derricks and the pervasive smell of oil. And we recalled getting those tarballs on our feet. Those phenomena are all gone now, as were all those tin cans of "Tin Can Beach," north of the pier, all those years ago.
Is it just me, or do others see how aggressive looking the faces on toys have become?
"Yeah, Charley's stole the handle, and the train it just keeps going, no it won't slow down."
Yes, Ruby's. They need to crank up their AC.
Annie took this pic.
Pa somehow gravitated to a bench, near the end of the pier, with a plaque of some guy named "Bauer" on it.
As you can see, I persist in being much too large for this world. Wearing black helps a little.
The weather was beautiful, natch. There was some wind and some surf. Pretty nice day.
The usual goofy kids, soap balloon making machine, etc.
|Roy, Ma, & Annie in Santa Monica: 55 years ago|