SUMMERS AT THE DRIVE-IN MOVIES

As the summer sings its sultry July song, my thoughts meander to other long ago summers. First there were those spent discovering the delights of cooling off in the sprinklers, the neighbor's pool, the public "Plunge".Then there were the long, hot cross- country trips in the family car with no air conditioner. My brother and I would keep our baseball hats on as long as we could stand it, then whip them off and enjoy the sensation of wind blowing through our hot, dampened hair--our own method of air conditioning. Then came the days of beach and sand---these were among the best in my memory. Our bodies, shiny from a generous coating of baby oil, would bake till "done" and then we would race to the water, swim out to the bouys, and finally stumble up from the shore to dry and dream of the summer nights to come---which could be a drive-in movie.

As a child I liked nothing better ---a pillow, some popcorn, and the gigantic screen were all that was needed to make an ordinary night magical. Our local drive-in was called the "Orange Drive In ". There were swings to play on before the movie started, and the theatre was surrounded by eucalyptus trees, which perfumed the air with their clean, fresh fragrance and provided a soft backdrop to the mass of metal parked in the middle. I can still see the tree sillouhettes, bending and bowing, as dusk slowly fell upon us and we began to settle into our cozy car cacoons. Safe and secure with our parents, no bedtime, and a movie to watch, was close to a perfect evening in the 40's and 50's. The only negative thing about going to the drive-in was the trip to and from the concession building for popcorn or other necessities. Getting there wasn't a problem. Getting back could be. All the cars looked the same at night, and there were no street signs to show the way, just row upon row of cars. The only time I remember having the nerve to leave the car alone, was as a teen-ager on a date. The Orange Drive-in was still going strong , and was still quite the place to go---for somewhat different reasons. Back in the 50's, we actually "dated", and the drive-in provided an opportunity to be alone without "parking", which was another activity not seemingly necessary today. "Parking" was a notch up on the dating scale, from the drive-in, and was saved for special dates--- and a movie was not at all required, if you catch my drift. Of course, at the drive-in, you were necessarily parked, so that was different from "parking". It was so popular that some kids would smuggle themselves in by way of other kids' car trunks. No pillows were required. Just you, your date, and some popcorn! One night I decided to venture forth alone to the concession stand , but on the way back---- I completely lost my way. There was no familiar looking car or date.---anywhere! Up and down the rows I walked. Had my boyfriend left? Or moved the car as a joke? Would I have to take a cab home? Just when I was about to panic , I spotted a figure sitting, bolt upright, on the hood of a car---it was my date and his car. He must have seen me wandering about ---and rather than call out my name, he used himself as a human sign post. Very sweet, and very creative, I thought----but why didn't he just come and rescue me? Maybe he thought that would embarrass me---or did he just want to enjoy the evening air? I never knew, as neither of us said a thing, other than---"want some popcorn?" It was one of life's embarrassing moments, and not just a little traumatic. To this day, I hate to prematurely leave any movie theatre for any reason. Getting lost ---I believe they call this affliction"directionally challenged"--- seems to come natural for me, and continues to be scary. Staying lost is even scarier. And losing your boyfriend at the drive-in would have been so not cool. I wouln't say it left a lasting emotional scar, but I haven't been to a drive-in movie since.

Life moved on and southern California nights at the drive-in became just fond, nostalgic memories. But the other day, a friend mentioned that she had been to the drive-in! What?? Did they still actually exist? I thought this was a relic of the past, like sock hops and "dating". I was suddenly gripped with an urge to drive to the drive -in with some of my favorite "dates"---my grand daughters! We will grab our pillows and off we'll go. But someone has to promise that if we get lost on the way back from the concession stand, they will get out of the car and come find us---or perch high on the hood, until we find them. Life has a way of sometimes circling back around and taking us for a ride back to our past----even if it's in a car that's parked, and grandchildren that take the place of a boyfriend.

And so, the summer song hums along , and the days fill with memories for another summer still to be lived. The Orange Drive-In is no longer there, but here in this town there is another drive-in with young families and their pillows--- and pulling in right behind them is a young couple. They look in love, but a little out of place in 2010--- maybe they are time travelers--or maybe they are hiding the kids in the trunk. I wonder if there are trunk checks these days. A little later, a red convertible with the top down arrives---it has an elderly, grey haired couple inside, and they are holding hands and laughing. There are two canes in the back seat. There is also a large bag of popcorn---in the trunk. The summer breeze blows through the trees, the movie begins, and the song of summer fades into the future.

Newspapers No More??

"What's black and white and " red" all over?" That was one of my favorite riddles as a child. Of course, you know the answer---everybody "read" the newspaper back in the day. Not so much, now. More and more of us are getting our news off the internet and liking it more and more. It's immediate, free of that messy black ink, and---often less biased. Newpapers are losing readership at an alarming rate. Even old institutions, like the New York Times are suffering from lack of public interest- but maybe it's more than the internet that's causing the great migration away from the heretofore very powerful " fourth estate", otherwise known as the free press. The American media, originally one of the great bastions of a free people, symbolizing free speech and free thinking, has increasingly been accused of being the hand maidens of the left wing political agenda. Their credibility as an objective source of news reportage became very suspect during the last presidential campaign, when it seemed more than obvious that Obama was their chosen choice. It has been a known fact that most journalists lean toward the liberal philosophy, and should not be a surprise that their stories, editorials and general reporting reflect their bias-----but, we expect and deserve more from them. Their job, however difficult, is to investigate and present the information, without personal bias or intention of leading the public to make conclusions based on selected news they decide to print. It's a responsible and heavy burden to be the messengers of world events, political happenings, and stories of people in power that can and will shape our opinons of them and our voting tendencies, but it can be done and should at least be attempted. To spin and/or omit the news is to connive and control, and should not be tolerated.

A recent occurence, concerning the "Black Panthers", a group known for their extreme anti-white stance, is a case in point. This admittedly racially constructed group used tactics such as intimidation, weapons, and threats to steer people away from the 2008 polling boooths in Philadelphia . This incident has been under investigation and was brought before the United States Justice Department recently. And that's as far as it got----the case was abruptly and shockingly dropped . Eric Holder,the United States Attorney General, has refused to prosecute in this case. This, in of itself, is a most interesting and disturbing story. But just as interesting is the fact that the mainstream media has chosen to ignore the story completely. It simply has been absent from the papers---until last Sunday, when the Washington Post reprimanded itself for having committed the sin of omission , saying that it was unintentional, but nevertheless wrong. Yes, better late than never, but one has to wonder what they were thinking . Was it that it did not fit their well established habit and some would say, deliberate plan, to promote all things liberal, and ignore anything that might help the conservative movement? And now, comes another revelation that during the presidential campaign, a group of journalists were directed to "kill the Jeremiah Wright story", in order to not cast any negative aspersions toward their favored candidate, Barack Obama. This story can be found on You Tube.

If it is true that the media favors the current administration, there is no love lost between the administration and the Republicans. Barack Obama makes no apologies for his outspoken tirades against them and his contempt for any and all media that has the nerve to speak against his policies. He has gone so far as to refuse to be interviewed by Fox news and strongly encourages others in his circle to do the same and in fact has implored the public to boycott this station. His partisan attitude may show loyalty to his own left wing party members, but is strikingly unpresidential and off putting to a country more accustomed to their President at least trying to appear to be a leader for all of us, not just his own 'posse". At times his strident, aggressive words used to sell his own programs , such as the health care bill and the current bill to extend unemployment benefits, are so tilted and without whole truth, that he seems more like a tough ,bullying Chicago politician, than the President of a people who might respect him more without his resorting to name calling and put downs of those who disagree with him. Given the forceful nature of this President and the rapid, unprecedented changes unfolding before us under his direction, it would seem absolutely essential that we have access to a fair and balanced news media. The press has been called the "Fourth Estate" because it wields tremendous power in educating and influencing the country with the news it chooses to report or omit, and the way it chooses to slant it or not. Journalists should take this responsibilty very seriously, for what they do can turn the tides of history. We, as a people, should also remember to practice our own diligence and research beyond that found in the main media, most of whom will admit to a bias. There are, thankfully, other sources to give balance--- the internet news, blogs, radio programs, and magazines devoted to giving other sides of the news besides that which is fed to the masses through the newspapers. It will behoove us as a nation to do our homework, and not assume that everything one reads in print or hears on television is true, or that it is enough to simply read the headlines every day. It is not enough. Our very survival of a free nation may depend on our being a well informed ciitizenry, not just casual unlookers and followers of the powerful, the politicians, and the "Fourth Estate".

Beware of those who would boycott or possibly even attempt to shut down free speech, including such groups as the "Tea Party", and right or left wing talk shows, by ridiculing, intimidating, exaggerating or lying. Whether you disagree or agree with these groups is not the point---the point is that the first ammendment guarantees free speech for a reason. It assumes that an informed public will make informed choices. It did not assume that only the rich, influential, and powerful should decide for all of us. But we must have adequate and unbiased information from our newspapers and so called news magazines. They, unlike talk shows and some TV political programs which state up front their political views, should serve as a funnel of unpredudiced information, excepting for their editorials. If the newpapers are becoming a thing of the past, perhaps they have brought it upon themselves with their stubborn unwillingness to print both sides of the story fairly and to include all stories of interest, not just those they deem appropriate to their particular causes .

What's black and white and not very read anymore? You got it----a fading institution called the "newspaper"-----should they be referred to, instead, as our" opinionated papers"? Buh-bye, New York Times, Washington Post, etc. I'll miss some of you, as I still love to hold you in my hands, but you have betrayed your original trust and duty---to keep us informed, not indoctrinated.

A FUNNY KIND OF GRANDMA

Let me say right off that I have never been your stereo-typical or traditional grandma. But then, is there is such a thing these days? I'm not the only one who works and dresses not that differently from my grandchildren. There are new norms everywhere, even among grandmas. I've been told I'm more of an "Auntie Mame", than an "Aunt Bea", Opie's surrogate grandmother on" Mayberry RFD", the old TV show.. I prefer to think I'm more like Sophia Loren with grandchildren! Now, there's a new norm. My grandmothers both wore long dresses and had grey hair. But neither one of them provided warm, nurturing role models. One of them lived with us for a while and took care of me and my little brother while my mother worked. She braided my hair and made fresh bread, which she served to me as a snack with buttermilk when I came home from school. She was, however, not affectionate, and could be quite stern. I remember being chased with a broom which she clearly meant to use on me ---fortunately , I ran faster . But she was for her day, a rather traditional German grandmother. She had no life of her own, but found meaning in helping out our family. I had no wish ever to be like her, and in fact, I wanted to be as unlike her as possible. But today's grandmothers seem very different from mine. I so admire and envy those that spend large blocks of quality time with their grandchildren, helping out every time they are needed. Owning and operating a business have never left me with many spare days or energy. And to be honest, as my children and parents of my grandchildren often readily point out---I have a busy social life, a periodic pedicure, and a tennis match to squeeze in whenever possible. I'm there to care for the children if I'm really needed, but I admittedly guard my private time, knowing that I must have it to keep my balance. But every now and then, I get to be a real grandma---last week was one of those times. Katherine, 12, and Kelly 10 came to stay for a few days . I was delighted and felt I had been given a second chance , as the last time I was given the grandmother test, I failed badly! It wasn't that I did anything wrong, it's that I wasn't even there. A few weeks before their planned visit, I had been invited to join a couple of friends for a girls' trip to Italy. Torn as I was, I decided to go, leaving the children in the very capable hands of my kind and generous husband . They weren't coming to our home until after I left on my trip, and I planned to get home before they left, by cutting short the itinerary and skipping Venice. Well---need I say more? You don't skip Venice. Even my husband urged me to go on to Venice -- "you have to see it", he said. And so I went, thinking I would stay only one day and leave early the next morning . But like a smitten lover, I did not leave. I had fallen completely under the spell of that ancient, lovely, fairy tale city, and stayed on one more day and night. After a long trip from airline hell, with delays, canceled departures, and bumped reservations, I finally made it back home to my waiting grand daughters who had expected me a couple days earlier. They greeted me with smiles and welcome home signs they had made, and I greeted them with a huge guilt conscience. The trip was wonderful, and I don't regret it---there comes a time in life when a door opens and you just know you must walk through it---the opportunity and circumstances will not pass your way again. This was one of those times. But I will always miss the days I could have spent with those two little girls.

So, this was my chance to be a hands-on grandma---and I think I passed the test this time around. The week was filled with as much summer fun as we could pack into it, including fireworks, a movie, ice cream cupcakes, "rip stick" skate boards (the very latest in skate board technology) , fishing, a sleep over with their cousins, and even a couple afternoons at a day camp while I worked. For just a little while they brightened and lightened my days. Laughing in the sunshine, running in the rain and forgetting all of life's problems had been their gifts to me. I could only hope that they were taking home some fond memories as well. Probing for answers, I asked one of them how she would rate the day camp---she said," It was good". I then asked which activity they had enjoyed while with us the most-- " fishing with Papa", was the reply. But the best thing they left me with was a note that said: " Grandma,you are funny and you make us laugh." I loved that note, not only for it's sweetness, but because somehow they had found a way to appreciate me, their not so traditional grandma. I tried to explain to them, that pouring orange juice into their cereal bowls was not that unusual---could happen to anyone, but they looked unconvinced and quite amused. Yes, they had tapped into my core---a sort of unintentional penchant for missteps, or mis-pours, in this case; and were doing what visits like this are for---getting better acquainted and learning that grandmas come in all different packages with all sorts of personalities. But most of us hold the same gift inside--a deep and abiding love for the children of our children. We want them to know that others besides their parents treasure and love them unconditionally. And if we're lucky they will remember us when they become grandparents, as good role models --minus the brooms!

As I turned my little charges over to their mom on the last day of their visit, they seemed very happy to see her, and maybe just a little sad to say good-bye to me---but mostly what I saw in their eyes was a look that said, "we know you a little better now, and we love you a little more". I hope so. I found myself tearing up on the way home---I may have made them laugh, but they had made my heart smile. I missed them already.

"THE SUMMER KNOWS-----"

Last night I took my 90 year old mom to a movie---the one she picked was "Grownups". She is one of those, for sure, but I was still surprised at her choice. It turned out to be just what we both needed---a good time. This film is miraculously getting good box office turn-out, which has to mean we are desperate for a little comic relief---even if the comedy is worse than bad, and the relief is mixed with embarrassment for laughing at such low brow humor. Adam Sandler stars in this typical fiasco of a bunch of guy friends reuniting after many years for the funeral of an old basketball coach. Sandler is his usual goof ball, but endearing self. You gotta love this guy--he has a sweetness about him that shines through his slapstick, obvious comedy. In coming together again, the "grownups" guys rekindle their friendships and regress to acting like outrageous, adolescent
boys---and realizing that what they had achieved in life isn't nearly as good as what they once had---love for each other and the simple pleasure of one another's company, devoid of status or material things. It is all rather silly, predictable, and crazy, yet nostalgic and fun---like a day at the beach with old friends who know each other well enough to be silly, predictable and a little crazy at times. And like ice cream and lemonade, this movie probably wouldn't have worked in the more serious winter season, but it was a perfect summer treat---maybe because the summer knows that once in a while, we need to feel like kids again.

At the end of the movie, I asked my mom what she thought of it---she said, "Stupid", but she was smiling. So was I. "Grownups" had reminded me of the importance of good friends, good times, and the goodness that they bring our in us. I had just recently spoken on the phone to an old girl friend who lives far away from me. Our friendship is laced with memories. We have seen each other at our best and our worst, our happiest, and our saddest, our hearts whole and broken. We have both survived long marriages, children, and in her case, the early death of a husband. At one point in the conversation, as she was telling me how she fills her days now with many activities and the blessings of good health and loving, adult children, I said, "You have a good life". She agreed. She had weathered much, and so had our friendship. I was happy for her and me---we had come a long ways from teen age gal pals to now, "grownups".

I remembered back to a long-ago summer day, sitting under the shade of a tree on a southern Califoronia hilltop,she expressing her unrequited love for a boy who hardly knew she existed, and I trying to console her. She would later do the same for me when all I could do was cry my broken hearted tears, and all she could do was be there. She loved the song, "Blueberry Hill, and poems, and dancing. I loved pretty much the same things. She made me laugh like no one else could. We talked about how someday we would live together before settling down to marriage and children. In those days, living with a girl friend in an apartment was considered very glamorous---living with a guy was not even considered, much less done. The next summer found us graduated from high school and both working at Disneyland. We worked the evening shift , so we would spend the afternoons at the beach, then report directly to work, sand falling out of our shoes and clothing. Life was good, but we knew it would soon change, and it did. I took a job with United Airlines, and she went back to school. But we reunited later and got that apartment---it wasn't so glamorous, but we thought we were. We learned to ski that winter on the mountain tops of Colorado and joked about how hot "Norbert", our ski instructor was. I will never forget my first downhill run, and how as I went speeding totally out of control, headed straight toward the parking lot, I heard my friend yell, "Snow plow, Kel, snow plow!!", the then ski term for "brake, brake!!" She had jolted me out of my frozen fear and may have saved my life! A year later, we went our separate ways. The next few times we saw each other were for short visits and then our respective weddings, where we stood at each other's side as maid or matron of honor, well aware that things would never be quite the same. We were married ladies now, no longer first in one another's lives. The story goes on from there, with many plot lines, twists, turns, and sacred secrets---but we are still friends. Now, whenever I hear "On Blueberry Hill", I think of her and that day on our hill---how young and new we were, how time and the whole world seemed to stretch out below us, and how quickly it has all gone by. We are , indeed, all grown up, but veterans of life---she a widow, but a mom of four children, and two grandchildren; I a wife and mom of three children and four grandchildren. We are a little worn, and a lot sassier. But when we occasionally talk on the phone or see each other, we are none of those things---we are sweet and seventeen again, giggly and just happy to still be alive and together again---two old friends who remember each other as girls on the way to becoming women. There have been other friends and other good times, but she was my first BFF (best friend forever), and she is still the one who makes me laugh the hardest and one of the few allowed to see my tears.

Little do we always see, that on the journey to growing up, we are living some of the best of times, and meeting some of the dearest friends we will ever know. Someone once said, "Youth is wasted on the young". I don't think so---part of the bliss of being young is not knowing what lies ahead; and part of the comfort of old age is remembering the joys of being young! I may not be so new anymore, but in my heart lives a summertime who knew that some things last forever, and some BFF's like wine, become even better with age---or LOLWA! (Little old ladies with attitude!)