"25 Miles Across the Sea"



The "Jon-Dee II" at Catalina Island

"Santa Catalina is the Island for me." Great song, and it can't be said any better.  The Island is an absolutely  delightful getaway place along the west coast of the US.  Once we became 'boaters' we were nothing less than avid about it.  Of course hunting season still had priority over everything, but all other weekends were open, no matter the weather or sea conditions, we loved cruising the Pacific.



The 25 mile crossing can be smooth as a pond or wild with 'following seas,' the first being delightful, the last being pure horror.  Although 'JD' always took all precautions before leaving our Newport Beach dock, as well as all the boating classes available, and making sure our boat was always well maintained, there were times that really tried our nerves.  We as parents never wanted to put our children at risk and we never dared show our own fears during the most hectic crossings.  And, no matter what the crossing conditions we always arrived at Catalina safely, and arrived back to port safely.  Sometimes of course, a bit worse for the wear.



Day trips were generally confined to fishing the kelp beds for 'Kelp Bass' just off shore, shallow enough for anchorage. As our boat gently rose and ebbed just beyond the surf, our deck-top bar-b-q was made ready so as the fish were brought on board they were quickly prepared, wrapped in aluminum foil with a pat of butter, grilled and ready for munching within minutes.  Now, my father was not a fisherman so I had to learn the tactics from 'JD' who had grown up fishing.  However, even he would get frustrated with a fishing line tangling in the kelp which often let the fish get away.  Just out of boredom, I found myself strumming with my fingers on the taut line.  Lo and behold, this strumming apparently urged the fish to swim back out of the kelp the way it had gone in.  From that time on I never lost a fish in the swaying kelp.  

JR on a badly damaged "Jon-Dee II"

One early morning while anchored and fishing the kelp beds, we experienced the awesome 'instant fog' where we couldn't see beyond the outline of our boat.  All of a sudden a huge Italian made Baglietto yacht loomed out of the fog crashing over one corner of our stern.  'JD' the kids and me were all thrown on the deck and we feared we would surely sink there and then.  Of course the Baglietto kept right on going as if nothing had happened.  After our boat stopped crazily rocking 'JD' pulled anchor, revved up the engine and since the fog was lifting took out after the culprit.  We passed another boat just heading out to sea from the inlet and the skipper told us "I think the boat that hit you just headed in.  He has your paint and pieces of your boat on his beam."

   

We had to drop our speed once inside the inlet or get ticketed and fined for causing disruptive wakes.  The fog had cleared entirely now so we spotted the Baglietto pulling into their slip. We pulled into the empty slip next to them.  'JD' jumped off onto the floating dock and banged on the side of their yacht with his fist.  "A man on board came to the railing: "What seems to be your problem?"  "You just damn near sank my boat out there and didn't even stop to help us.  We have our kids on board, you  b-----d!"  "So, get a lawyer," and the man turned and walked back to his cabin. 

New "Jon-Dee III" at dock in Newport Beach



 Well, when we got back to our home in Claremont, we called our lawyer: "Sorry to say, but there are no laws out at sea.  Over the years sea-going freighter corporations made sure no maritime laws could be passed covering accidents at sea,"  not what we wanted to hear. Our lawyer finished with, " It's just survival of the most fit out there."  So, our boat insurance took care of our repairs and then 'JD' traded it back to Owens for a bigger craft with twin engines and a flying bridge.  The problem herein lies:  when you're all alone in the middle of an ocean every boat, no matter the size, is very small indeed.

 

 Certainly, the good times anchored either on the east at Catalina Harbor, or on the west side at Cat Harbor, the water is crystal clear, the Island is a welcoming sight, and the fish, lobster and abalone are ready for the taking.  And, you can't beat going to sleep with the gentle rocking of  your boat.

Two Kids and Counting



Terry with Dog Dusty

After  getting married at the age of 18, buying our first car off the showroom floor at 19, having our first baby at 21, buying our first house at 22 and adding a second baby at age 23 time was moving fast and furious. 

Our baby girl, Terry  (who later went by Sam, then Tracy, then Tes), had walked at nine months and refused to talk 'baby talk.' So it wasn't surprising that she graduated from high school and entered college at the age of 16 and then moved into a rental house with two college girlfriends.  She arrived on earth with red hair and has always shown a temperament that matches the color.  Wouldn't you know she excels in writing, painting, gardening, and anything else she puts her busy mind to.  And, besides filling her empty nest with rescued dogs, she and hubby are adoring grandparents.        

Randy

Our son, Randy (who now goes by JR), was born with a 'crew-cut.'  He took his time walking, as it was easier to just climb and crawl everywhere,  wherever he could get into mischief.  One day, while I was outside hanging up the wash, 'JR' found that using his little kid wood hammer made a great sound while banging on the window, especially when it began to crack.  He looked so innocent sitting there when I finally reached the culprit.  I then stored the hammer and wood peg-board on the high self in his closet. 

For days following,  he escorted each and every visitor to his room, pointed to the closet door and demanded they retrieve his favorite toy.  It was finally retrieved and only the wood pegs were pounded from then on.  He too is a writer, traveler and expert gardener.  Spent some time in the Peace Corps and even lived in Haiti for a year in the '70s helping build an orphanage.  So he has lots of his own stories to write about.        

After my first five years of marriage and well settled into the 'Mommy' role I delighted in keeping my home and kids in order: and set about joining the local woman's organizations. I became President of each group just by not keeping my ideas to my self.  I had learned to sew from my mother and a sewing class in high school so clothes for the kids and casual shirts for 'JD'.  I did  put off the ironing as long as I could.  Can't tell you how many times I had to re-wash and re-roll sprinkled clothes before they were finally ironed.  This was probably the first sore spot in our marriage.  The shirt 'JD' wanted to wear seemed to never be hanging in his closet.


A Family Photo, Early '60s (photo by Tes)

In addition to buying a new car every year due to exciting model changes, we added a painted-to-match trailer so mountain camping became our favorite family getaway.  That was until a neighbor moved in next door who was an avid hunter.  Now 'JD' added a Jeep and hunting rifles to his gear along with  fishing equipment. He often went fishing with his two older brothers and his Uncle Lawrence.  'JD' had become a top mold-maker and Matel Toys were already insisting he personally create their mold for years to come.  JD could well afford all his material desires which included a new 20'X40' in-the-ground swimming pool. Then he added the ultimate, first the "Jon-Dee", then "Jon-Dee II" and "Jon-Dee III" with each boat bigger than the former.  

Johanna was also the best grandmother possible.  Always eager to baby-sit for an evening or a weekend.  She worked five days a week at the orange packing house in Claremont where she learned the Mexican language from fellow workers.  They delighted in teaching her naughty things to say.  When she found out their trick she made it clear that as a Christian she was only eager to learn polite words.  From that time on they obliged and she became quite fluent.  Of course her first language was Danish and she taught her grandchildren to count in Danish early on. An absolute perfect mother-in-law whom I loved dearly.          

With Johanna available to stay over with our kids, we naturally enjoyed many fishing and hunting outings with friends and family.  And, we became ardent boaters along the California coast as well as back and forth to Catalina.  More stories, some funny and some not so funny.

Impudent Child

When I first heard the word 'impudent' I was sitting in the front row desk chair in the 5th grade classroom.  It was Valentine's Day and we had just counted the number of valentine's each person in the classroom had received.  This special day had always been one to look forward to.  The 'valentine box' had been brightly decorated with cut out hearts of pink and red, a good size cardboard box from a grocery store, and a slit in which to drop your various valentines was deftly cut by the teacher.

As soon as we arrived the morning of the big day, each of us stood in line to drop in our cards.  The teacher had given us a list of names of all the students in the classroom several days before, so even though we could pick and choose who we wanted to give a valentine, probably some of the kids were urged by their parents to be sure to have a card for everyone in the class including our teacher, Miss Gardner.

This was 1942 and all our teachers at Hamilton Elementary School were pretty old, except our Kindergarten teacher who was much younger and even pretty.  In fact when I was in Kindergarten, she had her wedding and my best friend, Lorene was selected to be her 'flower-girl.'  Of course I was happy for my friend, but wished ever so much that I too could've been chosen to be in Miss Lee's  wedding.  Because I wasn't chosen, maybe that's why I can never remember her married name.

So, back to my tale about the word 'impudent' which seems to have little to do with Valentine's Day, except that it was a crucial word for me at the time.  Finally, by mid-afternoon after we had some outdoor playtime going on the 'monkey bars' and the 'merry-go-round' that the boys made go faster and faster, we were each given a cupcake baked by Connie's mother and the teacher began passing out the Valentines with the help of two student volunteers.

It was very exciting to see who gave who a card and what was the message on the card.  It was also important to notice home-made cards compared to store-bought cards.  Generally the one's I gave were home-made ones that mother and I had such fun cutting, pasting and writing Valentine messages.  The biggest, prettiest card was of course put on the teacher's desk rather than in the box because it wouldn't fit through the slot.  I hoped, in my heart of hearts, that Wayne who sat in the back row really liked the card I gave him.

Once all the cards were distributed we were allowed to eat our cupcakes.  Then someone decided we should count our cards to see who got the most.  As soon as each kid finished counting he or she shouted out the number received.  I was still counting so was the last to announce my number.  I had a card from everyone in the class,  I jumped up and stupidly announced, "I got 30, the most cards!"

As you might have guessed, that's when Miss Gardner grabbed me by one arm, sat me back down in my seat and announced loud and clear, "Jean you are a very impudent child."

I could tell by the look on her face that the word 'impudent' was not a good one.  No one in the classroom said a word. Everyone was quiet and I looked straight ahead wishing I could fall through the floor at any minute.  Well, about that time the school bell rang letting us know it was time to go home.  I gathered up my 30 Valentines, put them in my lunchbox and left the room as fast as I could never looking back.

I practically ran the mile home, over dirt paths, past walnut and orange groves stopping only at Fifth Avenue to cross with the 'Crossing Guard' who slowed me down.  With just a block and a half to go I was home in minutes and anxious to ask mother the big question:  "What does 'impudent' mean?'  Mother said:  "It means 'without thought of the consequences,' why do you ask?"  "Oh, it's just a word I heard." was my reply.  "I made chocolate pudding while you were at school, do you want some?"  Funny how chocolate pudding can make everything alright once again, even for an impudent child.

"IjuswuhVootu"

"IjuswuhVootu?"  No, this is not a test to see if you can copy the letters correctly.  Actually, as a little child growing up in California, I would hear my parents utter this strange word and never knew what they were saying.  At one time I decided they were probably immigrants from some foreign country that spoke such a strange, exotic language.  Truly it must have been a joyful word because every time it was spoken it brought smiles and happy faces to my parents, sometimes even followed by touching hands or a kiss on the cheek.

Finally, one Saturday morning sitting at the breakfast table having father's best waffles with lots of butter and Maple syrup, Clarence smiled at Viola and those two 'foreigners' spoke in their special language: "IwuhVoo," said my father to my mother.  Her answer:  "IwuhVootu," and there followed mutual grins and as I sat with my mouth open in awe, they merely took another bite.

Now at the age of ten, my curiosity finally got the best of me.  "Mother, what did you say to Clarence?"  I should explain here and now that I was allowed to call my father 'Clarence' from my earliest memory because they "thought it was so cute."  Probably one of the rare moments of cuteness that I expressed.  And, the lovely lady who birthed me demanded she be called 'Mother,' not Mommy or Mom.  So, as I was saying, Mother answered me:  "Your father said he loves me and I answered I love you too."  That was not the answer I wanted.  I repeated what they had actually said.  Both Mother and Clarence laughed, in fact he was just taking another swig of hot coffee and almost choked  laughing.

This was to be my first lesson in true love between parents.  Mother explained:  "When your father and I first fell in love we used to talk, I suppose you would call it 'baby-talk' and these were the words we coined to let each other know how much we were in love.  I guess we're a bit old to continue saying this, but you can count on hearing this 'strange language' from us for years to come.  You see, we'll always love each other,

Maybe that was more than I needed to know as a kid.  But, it has been a lovely memory for me to carry through the years.  They did divorce after 26 years of marriage, but it was a mutual agreement. I'll probably explain that decision in another blog, another day.