Its now been fifty years. ...and maybe more. ~ Tales of the Santa Cruz Mountains... A short story by Steve C Perky Perkins. ~ The Barbecue or... Lassies Last Standish. ~ When I was a kid and my parents were still married, my mom decided to do something really nice for my dad - who was the president of the bank, as a birthday celebration. We all knew Walt Disney and admired his prowess at turning Casey Jones into an amusement park rife with angels that flew and angels that just rode... spurred on by angels that truly believed that love conquers all. Everyone knew my mom too - she was world-class celebrity to the Los Angelenos that patronized my fathers bank: political bigwigs movie stars pillar of the community typesand of course workaholic engineers... and their tribes of the truly motivated. Yup, mom was one hell of a Filly in her time... So she got together with her multitude to build a monTales of the Santa Cruz Mountains... A short story by Steve C Perky Perkins. When I was a kid and my parents were still married, my mom decided to do something really nice for my dad - who was the president of the bank, as a birthday celebration. We all knew Walt Disney and admired his prowess at turning Casey Jones into an amusement park rife with angels that flew and angels that just rode... spurred on by angels that truly believed that love conquers all. Everyone knew my mom too - she was world-class celebrity to the Los Angelenos, Californians; Mexicans, and Texans that patronized my fathers bank: political bigwigs, movie stars, pillar of the community types and of course, workaholic engineers and their tribes of the truly motivated. - mom motivated them to demonstrate their crafts infamous razzle-dazzle... Yup, mom was one hell of a Filly in her time... So she got together with her multitude to build a monument to my fathers generosity, her fathers due diligence in the production and distribution of livestock; and, in the devine inspiration of getting it all together, she and the local patties would get together and have the good ole boys build a dream my father had - a barbecue pit where he could get all his friends, customers, and even HIS Fathers parishioners together to celebrate Gods magnificence... So no one questioned my moms directives to secretly move some of my fathers assets into position to make it all possible... we were gonna give him the best Christmas and birthday present fit for the kingmaker he was... in thought, word, and deed. Why, even Lucy Balls Sister June Lockhart was buzzin like a bee... So the yay team (...how do you spell yeah?) dug, sweat, pounded and poured; designed, fashioned, forged and wrought; groomed, ploughed, planted and rendered; until the coolest outdoor cooking facility anyone had ever seen had come into being! All of this unbeknownst to my father, who was to be the guest of honor at a ribbon-cutting celebration to end all ribbon-cutting celebrations (mom was a high-fashion model ~ a runner up for Miss Long Beach). Dad thought the project was some kind of petroleum engineering development, secured by a movie-set (moms brother who worked for Red Adair: the famous oil-well fireman was also a crony of Howard Hughes...) and ultimately sponsored by a former roommate of my mothers - who had hit the big-time in show-biz: Norma Jean was everybodys favorite pin-up gurl. The big day had come. The gang assembled at the top-secret jobsite and waited for my Father to come in on the train... We arrived on the train from the boardwalk shortly after the celebrations to open his fathers new church building and the new bridge had happened. The gift of the magi was unveiled. Well, mom was a model and earned her keep (...when she wasnt being statuesque) as a short-charge bookeeper - I think she coined the title, with a chuckle. But she wasnt the Stanford -Educated Master of Business Administration my Father was, and didnt understand that all those unauthorized fees, purchases, and, uhhh, payroll would ultimately affect his bottom... ...uhhh, Line. She was deeply hurt when he got mad at her instead. He could barely keep his anger inside of him as he realized that he was watching this glorious occasion sink the ship he was supposed to be in command of. The fleet command would roar with contemptuous laughter as he was returned to a lowly NCO position, because the girly-gurl had died while the project was underway (~ the wh*re got what she deserved - shed drowned in a swimming pool...) and hed be a token nigger for the rest of his career. Dead starlets dont generate much interest, you understand. By the end of the afternoon when it came time to fire up the barbecue to cook the steaks-for-everybody, they were openly miffed: shouting angrily at each other while I scratched my terrified head in bewildered anguish. This would certainly put the damper on her announcement that she was pregnant with their third child. But the grill wouldnt light. They tried and tried to get that familiar blue flame to attach itself to the ironwork, but alas, it was not to be. A little troubleshooting was in order... The people who were charged with building the project speculated that somebody had forgotten to turn on the gas at the main. My Father volunteered that he was wondering why he was being contacted about some petroleum field under his banks dominion that needed to borrow even MORE money to refit the existing pipework. I remember my Uncle Bill roaring with laughter at the dufas that thought that the existing wellhead could withstand the kind of pressures that they were talking about pushing through such measley plumbing... Looking back from years of independent study and observation, its safe to say that the loan for the new gear was probably still in process ~ pending further study. Someone ran over to turn it on. We heard a shrill whistle and the tallest geyser youd ever seen spouted out of the ground towards the front of the park. Why, it DWARFED (!) the one that happened that time when a car had hit the fireplug near the corner of 104th and Dixon! A lot of people thought that this huge gusher was part of the fanfare... That this display was water (..natural gas has no odor when it is mined ~ uhhhh, harvested...) to add to the excitement. My moms petroleum engineer friends knew better and, instead of running for the source of the plume, they hurriedly herded as many women, children, and dignitaries as they could onto the the train. As I was a two-thirds majority, I was plunked down in an open gondola. Id had too much excitement for the day... I went to sleep on the way back to Grampas church. m.youtube/watch?v=H2PH-prm8M4
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 00:30:12 +0000
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