(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Morning Open Thread. When you're an old geezer, you spend a lot of time reminiscing. [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.', 'Backgroundurl Avatar_Large', 'Nickname', 'Joined', 'Created_At', 'Story Count', 'N_Stories', 'Comment Count', 'N_Comments', 'Popular Tags'] Date: 2023-03-25 “Memory only becomes interesting through its struggle with forgetfulness.” — Adrian Forty Well, this old geezer does, anyway. I’m not saying that all old geezers do. I don’t mean to speak for all old geezers. Not that all old people are geezers either. I don’t mean to say that. Even if it is true. So I chanced upon this video, and it brought back exactly the memories it invokes, and caused me to ask: do I remember my very first motel stay? You know, I think I do. I’m near certain it was here: Hee hee. And check out the misspelled “Mystry”. Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum. This is a post where you can come to share what’s on your mind and stay for the expansion. The diarist is on California time and gets to take a nap when he needs to, or may just wander off and show up again later. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug. Grab your supportive indulgence(s) of choice and join us, please. And if you’re brand new to Morning Open Thread, then Hail and Well Met, new Friend. It was the summer of 1971, just before I began my senior year of high school. My dad, who never did anything spontaneous, just out of the blue one morning said to me and my younger sister “Hey, pack a suitcase. We’re going on a trip.” This just Did Not Happen, so we packed up quick. After several hours in the car, leaving the mountains here and skipping across through Redding and then over Highway 299, we turned north on the Pacific coast, stopping finally at the Trees of Mystery. By the time we got done visiting Ol’ Paul Bunyan it was getting on towards the late afternoon. Dad wanted to push on north to Crescent City to get a motel for the night. A MOTEL! We had never stayed at a motel before on a “family trip”, and that’s mainly because for a family of four kids and two adults this was simply not an affordable option. But things had changed in our family. My two older sisters were now out of the coop for several years, leaving just me and my younger sister, so staying in a motel wasn’t out of the question anymore. And on this trip that was in the plan anyway, but Dad still had to pinch those pennies. So when I said hey Pop, there’s a motel right across the street (meaning the Motel Trees) he said No, that’ll be way too expensive, but I said Hey, it’s free to check out, right? and so he did and he found the price was about the same as he figured he was going to be paying up in Crescent City so we checked in, and not only was it the first time I’d ever spent a night in a motel, Dad wanted privacy for him and Mom, so Louise and I got our own room. No, we did not have to share a bed, are you nuts? 🌗 🌕 🌓 So here’s that video: And hey no, I never did a “crash-and-dash”, but maybe that’s because by the time I was staying in motels on my own they were pay-first. And hey, yeah, I put money in the “Magic Fingers”. Mainly a waste of a good quarter is my recollection. But at least it actually worked and didn’t just rip off my quarter. And when the narrator says “...you could request a smoking room...” he’s not remembering the 50’s/60’s quite correctly. Rooms where smoking was allowed was the default; you wanted a room that didn’t reek of tobacco smoke? That took a special request. The ubiquitous matchbooks are the dead giveaway on that. But how cool would it be to have a full collection of paper matchbooks from motels/hotels of the period? Never used. That’d be neat. *** Anybody able to make out the make of the little white car at the 6:42 mark? Rambler? *** We had two different station wagons I remember as a kid growing up, both of them Chevrolet, the second one a Bel Air, I’m certain. We brought the first one with us when we moved up here to Quincy from Pomona in 1960, but by 1964 we’d traded that one in for a newer model with less mileage. I’d reckon we pretty much plum wore that first one out. Might’ve looked something like this in its prime, though: 1956 Chevrolet Two-Ten Station Wagon. I remember ours was nearly all white. This would be pretty close to what our second, and last, station wagon looked like. Our second was our last because it got totaled in a car crash (Mom was driving, but not her fault, we got t-boned at a bad intersection on old Highway 99 north of Sacramento, by some old fart who had no business being behind the wheel anymore. Dad sued him to the hilt, but he was only good as far as his insurance went) and by then my oldest sister was about to go off to college and my next older sister was already living out on her own, so Dad replaced the wagon with a big four-door sedan, if memory serves. By then we also had a Jeep 4wd wagon, so we had all the room we needed as far as wheels went. 🚙 🚜 🚂 🚀 Another reminiscence I have is of a frequent visitor to our house, the guy who distributed and stocked all the Granny Goose brand snack chips in our stores. Dad knew this guy pretty good because Dad was the commercial officer for the California Highway Patrol on this beat and because Dad operated the truck scales and did the surprise vehicle inspections he got to know just about all the commercial vendors who came up to this area from down the Sacramento Valley way. Heh heh, we never lacked for freebie potato chips; when the chips on the shelves got pulled for date, we got the pickings. I’ve no idea if such freebies would be considered minor graft today (probably), but back then nobody gave it a mind. It didn’t affect Dad’s unbiased application of vehicle safety laws either; on my Dad’s turf commercial operators pretty much didn’t get away with one damned thing. Remember this guy? [Wow. Until I played this just now I’d forgotten how racially stereotyped the other actors are being portrayed. Hope this doesn’t offend.] Lyrics: Ah, I caught you smilin' at me, that's the way it should be Like a leaf is to a tree, so fine Ah, all the good times we had, I sung love songs so glad Always smilin', never sad, so fine As we walk down the country lanes I'll be singin' a song, you hear me callin' your name Hear the wind whisper in the trees Tellin' Mother Nature 'bout you and me Well, if the sun shines so bright, or our way is dark as night The road we choose is always right, so fine Ah, could any love be so strong when so many loves go wrong Will our love go on and on and on and on and on and on? As we walk down the country lanes I'm singin' a song, hear me callin' your name Hear the wind whisper in the trees Tellin' Mother Nature 'bout a-you and me My, my, law-de-law, come on, now, it ain't too far Tell your friends all around the world Ain't no companion like a blue-eyed Merle Come on, now, well, let me tell ya What you're missin', messin' around them brick walls So, of one thing I am sure, it's a friendship so pure Angels singin' all 'round my door, so fine Yeah, ain't but one thing to do, spend my natural life with you You're the finest dog I knew, so fine When you're old and your eyes are dim There ain't no 'Old Shep' gonna happen again We'll still go walkin' down country lanes I'll sing the same old song, hear me call your name source: Musixmatch Sigh. All the good times we had. 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