Advent calendar, day 20: The hardest thing about drawing this advent calendar was when it came time to put the felt pens to it. That was pretty nerve wracking. I had to use magnifying goggles just to see where I was drawing some of the details, especially nails or woodgrain, splits in wood, etc. One tiny mistake and the whole thing could have been ruined! Not that there are no mistakes, but none required a restart. All but the twenty fifth were drawn side by side, as they appear on the calendar, on one piece of paper. The beach has always held a special place in my heart. The first years of my life were spent in the small town of El Granada, just a few miles north of Half Moon Bay. Our house was situated a block from Highway 1, which runs along the ocean through El Granada. I remember walking to Surfers Beach, just down the highway from the house, and hearing the Beach Boys playing from the surfers cars, the water full of surfboards and young surfers waiting for a wave. The second additional photo shown here is the view from our front yard, Pillar Point Harbor and the Point itself visible, though the Golf Ball and the rest of the radar station most visible now was not there when we lived in El Granada, and the harbor held mostly hard working fishing boats in those days. I remember taking a walk one day with a couple who were walking their new baby in a stroller down the street by our house. We ended up heading over into Princeton, a little village that inhabits the shore of the harbor across the highway from our old home. We walked all the way out to the west end of it, where the world famous Mavericks is, and back, just enjoying the day and the company. I was a little guy, like five or six maybe. I have no idea what they thought of me heading off with them, but it didnt seem to bother them at all, and they dropped me off on their way back by the house. Those people are almost certainly gone now, or very old, and their baby is somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty years old. I was always a pretty adventurous kid. One day while being looked after by a sibling at the house, I decided it was time to go visit mom at work. After all, I was four, I think, and more than mature enough for a hike through the field across the street, down the slope at the far side (far side... words that could be used to describe many of my childhood adventures through the years...) and across Highway 1 to the shop where she worked. So out the window I went, on the sly, cause, you know, I wasnt foolish enough to think my guardian was going for this. The trip across the street went well, and through the field was a piece of cake. Down the slope was smooth sailing (I was using nautical terms at this point in my voyage because the ocean was right there ;) ). I lined up my sights for The Ships Bell, the gift shop across the highway where mom worked, and set sail across the vast expanse of asphalt sea. Thus began a childhood relationship with law enforcement that was, shall we say, not always rewarding. The CHP officer that happened by out of sheer dumb luck on my part was rightfully inquisitive about my wandering across the highway from who knows where all by myself, and, a testament, Im sure, to his fine skills as an officer of the law, he started his inquisition with me, asking where I was going. Now, I have to rely on the details related to me over the years as to how this played out, because the particulars are somewhat vague in my old brain, but it went something like this: CHP: Where are you headed, little guy? Me: To The Ships Bell to visit my mother, Janet. CHP: Really? And where are you coming from? Me: Home. CHP: Where might that be? Me: 385 Alhambra Avenue. My phone number is 867-5309 (Im paraphrasing...) Now, I dont think his extensive training had prepared him for that answer, but he rallied. And you say your mother works at The Ships Bell? Me: Yes sir! (Back then I was very polite to the police. And most of them deserved it.) CHP: Well, lets take a little ride, shall we? Thus began another tradition of my childhood: cops involving my parents in my misadventures. Well, mom got an earful from that Highway Patrolman, Ill tell you. I believe he told her she deserved a good spanking. (Thats true! I swear it! Not sure if he was really mad, or enamored... she was a babe back then.) I caught hell, but I was so cute it was hard to stay mad at me for long. I know; I tried the theory all the time. Over the years I learned to curse my luck when it came to skirting the law. Ive learned that were it my brother, Collin, who took that trip across the highway when HE was four, hed have happened down there just after someone driving by lost a red carpet off the back of their truck, which would have unfurled right up to the door of The Ships Bell, and hed have lucked into making the trip on National Cops-Day-Off Day. Ive often said he doesnt have an angel on his shoulder, God Himself sits there. Oh well, sour grapes. If there is one regret I have in drawing this calendar, it is not having included one of the windows from that house on Alhambra. You can see from the Street View picture included here that it was a typical coastal home, and most likely the single most influential contributor to my love of such dwellings and their various attributes. It is, in the photo (as was my Salt Lake City home in the recent Street View picture) the exact same color as it was fifty years ago when we lived there. Not a little nostalgia there, Ill tell you. Many great memories from that place too. The smell of oil paints in the sun room up front where mom painted. Riding my skateboard, with the clay wheels and solid, thick wood top, down that very sidewalk. Realizing one day that I could shake dimes from the paper rack in front of the post office next door (thats it in the photo, right side). Inviting people over to have a beer with my mother while I sat on the steps at the post office, trying to look nonchalant (I dont know what I was thinking... she preferred wine, and usually a bit later in the day than the time at which I was inviting them); our donkey, Barney, who used to get out of his pen and wander around town until someone called us to come get him. The life-size Frankensteins monster on the door of one of my siblings bedrooms. El Granada was a great time in my life. This window for today is a nod to my early days; young whippersnapper, coastal adventurer, paper rack pirate. Its not like our house wasnt right at the ocean, but having one right on the beach would have been cool, so this one has a deck that sits above a sandy beach where, just up the surfline, there is a fine cave to explore and play in. I wonder, after all these years of looking at this calendar for twenty five days out of the year, just how many of these little details I have described have been picked up on by my nieces. I dont begrudge my brother his luck when it comes to the crazy things hes gotten away with over the years. If Id have had that kind of luck, Id have abused it, Im sure. Knowing Im going to get caught at whatever little gambit I have up my sleeve has kept me honest. Hold on to your fond memories of childhood, learn from your mistakes and let the unfavorable ones wash away like so many footprints in the sand. Its The Twentieth Day Of Christmas!
Posted on: Sat, 20 Dec 2014 17:56:56 +0000
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