Reptile Dysfunction

So the liner of the old "above-ground" pool had been removed and my hippy brothers were determined to make use of the 4 foot metal enclosure for a pond and reptile habitat.

I had just turned 12 and was used to cleaning up the mess left behind from car parts and junk scattered throughout the universe of my disorderly home. (There is something about the 2nd law of Thermodynamics and Entropy Increase...that Irene, our once-a-week house keeper, and I worked very hard to push against constantly).

Trying hard to contain the mess was part of my nature, but the need for order or hard work just didn't seem to be on the cosmic menu for the herbal loving - easy going, carefree lifestyle of Haight-Ashbury influenced children of the 60's.

To see all the "long-hairs" out in the backyard with shovels in hand and sweat on the brow was quite the enigma and a demonstration of the commitment they had to this "pond" project of theirs.

Another paradox was the unusual care and attention to these particular plants that they were cultivating out in the very far reaches of the backyard.  To walk over clutter and and pay no attention to the disastrous disorder of our  house was more inline with their blithe character than was care, concern and cleanliness or anything that hinted of a modicum of elbow grease. So shocking was the paradox of this new found work ethic, that my Dad had to ask about this meticulously attended garden which had been deliberately hidden behind stacks of decaying Saint Mark's carnival booths (stored for centuries in our backyard).

"Mexican Tomato Plants," they told my dad!
 My dad raised a suspicious eye-brow and walked
 away.

I was curious as to why these beloved "tomato plants" got so much attention - especially since the dumb things never grew tomatoes.     What's up with that?    

Not only did my older boys water, weed and meticulously prune the leaves, but they also imported a 3 foot, mutant, wild eye'd, attack-rooter with 4 inch razor sharp spurs to guard the cursed plants.

Life use to be good for an imaginative kid in that great big 'O backyard of ours, but now it was a nightmare with that Veloci-Rapter of an guard-rooster hunting down and attacking anything that came near those precious plants.  

My dad always seem frustrated that the older boys just didn't seem to care much about anything having to do with keeping the place clean, so I did the best I could to try to please him. 

Only problem was that I think it made them mad and is probably why they tied me up and buried me and shoved me in that hamper of death...(blog 6/5/13) and maybe even kept their mouth shout when my parents left me behind at Salton Sea (blog 5/27/13). .

Anyway, the pond was near completion and at twelve I was up to taking a shower about once a week- whether I needed to or not. Today, however, no one was home and I felt that it was safe to take a bath. Usually that wasn't a good idea, because there was no handle on the door to the bathroom with the bathtub near my parent's room. You never knew who would walk in or what kind of torture they might put you through - like throwing hot or cold water on you or bring friends in to look at you naked.

None of that was fun!

I hadn't been in the bathtub in months and thought I'd give it a try. I turned on the water and let it run while I stripped down. I slightly pulled back the shower curtain and stuck one foot in the bathtub...
             ...do you remember the scene from the horror flick, "Psycho" - in the shower scene with the crazy-scary music?    Well, this was like that!

 Insert music from your head here...

No one was home and our house was scary enough.  I told you before that it was haunted by ghost or demons or other-world stuff that wasn't too good for a person my age. And so it was easy to be a bit jumpy...and afraid of noises and things that go bump in the night. So as I stuck my foot into the tub and was looking at the faucet to adjust the water temperature... something splashed inside the tub and grabbed a hold of my ankle. Okay this is the point where - if I wasn't just a kid - I probably would have had a heart attack and died. Something was alive in the tub. A dead corpse - maybe, that had come to life...and this thing (what-ever-it-was - began furiously flailing - the Creature from the Black Lagoon...a monster- LEVIATHAN!

I slipped and fell head-long on top of the cold creature and was eyeball to eyeball with death itself.


I stared into the eerie slit pupil of the alligator my brothers had been secretly storing in the tub awaiting the completion of the pond project.

I don't know who was more scared me or the alligator?  It opened it's mouth in fright.. I screamed and think the Lennons down the street could hear the shriek of my death cry. 

Both of us splashed helplessly flinging water out of the tub as the curtain tore off bar and fell over the top of our two naked bodies. The young cayman had razor sharp teeth, but somehow I managed to free myself without incurring a single wound and ran from the room dripping wet.

One flight of stairs... two flights of stairs.. down I ran.  Scared, wet, I ran down past the foul mouthed mynah bird into a oncoming gaggle of my sisters and her friends just entering in through the front door..

Scared, dripping wet and...oh yeah - NAKED!

Yeah, like they believed me that I just survived an alligator attack! 

That might be "TMI" (Too Much Information) so please just accept it, but don't feel you have to visualize it... I'm still traumatized by this memory - hopefully you won't have to be.

Just for clarity - it wasn't the alligator attack that I was traumatized by... it was the mocking of my sister and her friends who stood there and stared and pointed and laughed at me.

Hey,  it was cold by the time I got down stairs!

That wasn't a lot of fun. What I discovered is that girls can be just as mean as the Wolf Pack.

"An idyllic childhood is probably an illusion."
                              - Martha Grimes

Next time - the fatal accident!

Escaped Convict from Leper Colony: pt 2

Last time, I just confessed to the whole World - the 3rd best-kept-secret in History.  The first best-kept-secret still is, Who really shot President Kennedy. The Second best-kept-secret is knowing the truth behind Area 51 and UFO's. And the third best-kept-secret (that is no longer a secret) is the fact that it was the Dahlins who brought the plague-infested, blood-sucking mosquitoes into the beautiful state of California.  We did it!  Based on my thorough investigation into the World Book Encyclopedia and personal observations, I'm pretty sure they followed my tribe and our sugar-water hair back to Venice where we bred them in our backyard pool!

Gherhing the Great, Tommy and I had just finished building a magnificent, elevated fort just three feet from the dark green waters of our squirming larvae pond. After interrogation, Mrs. Blaser decreed that Tommy could not join in the "inaugural sleep over event."

With great excitement, I placed my sleeping bag near the back door and was under the kitchen sink, looking around for batteries that I could put into my ancient flash light (which probably hadn't flickered in at least 10 years).  That is where I overheard two of my older brothers having a conversation about how to keep those pesky  mosquitoes away.  Puke-Breath (the older brother who wore a retainer and had bad breath all time) and Dooh-Dooh Pants (another older brother who was always cutting the cheese and stinking up the place) said that bananas acted like a true mosquito repellent. They talked about how they would mush them up - liquifying them and intended to put the sticky substance in a spray can where they would make a million dollars selling the product.  It all sounded very scientific to me, and besides they didn't see me in the kitchen - so it must have been the truth!

I kept quiet and waited for them to leave and Voilá...  Guess what I discovered on the counter next to the toaster?  If you guessed a Pigeon - named Johnny or a hairless cat - named Lazarus you would have been right. If you guess a zebra or giraffe, you guessed wrong!  And, if you hazarded to guess bananas - you were right! Just so happens, there were three disgusting bananas at my disposal.

"Ah-ha!" I thought...here are three shrivled-black bananas that are practically in a liquified state already! Well, Gherhing the Great was Irish or something like that and had freckles all over his body. If he got bit by our little mosquito pets, no one could probably tell! Me, on the other hand, I needed a way to keep mosquitoes off...(Hey, I thought "OFF" that would be a great name for the older boy's invention).

Sitting in a green chair, the demonic cat looked over my shoulder while Johnny the pigeon tried to land on my head as I mashed those bananas into a gooey-slim that rivaled my dad's sugar-water hair gel.

Knowing that Gherhing didn't need them as badly as I did, I smeared a thin layer on my arms, neck and face.
I'd have to admit, that it was really kind of mean for me not to tell Gherhing the Great about my secret mosquito repellent especially since our fort was so close to the primordial ooze we called a pool! 

The paste set up quickly and dried on my skin before Gherhing got back with his sleeping bag and the coveted Moon-Pies that he stole from his house. It was almost like I was covered in paper-mache and could barley bend at my joints. Every time I smiled, banana-plaster cracked off my face.

Even though I left a trail behind me like Hansel and Gretel...this would be THE BEST NIGHT EVER!

We made up ghost stories about the Creature from the Black Lagoon crawling out of the dark waters of our pool, grabbing us with his flippered-claws and carrying us back into the spooky depths of the murky waters.

Part of the problem with "grape-stake" fencing, is even in its best condition - it's all gnarled and twisted. Our fort had gaps that a Chachalaca could fly through. I wasn't too worried about the mosquitoes, however, because I had overheard my brother's secret invention and was totally covered. We could hear the relentless buzz of mosquitoes and spent the entire night swatted the bazillion buggers...Poor Gherhing!   Turns out that it was THE WORSE NIGHT EVER. It was one of those nights you prayed for daylight to put an end to the never-ending misery where minutes seem to stretch into hours. At five o'clock in the morning we had enough and retreated into the house and ended up sleeping on the living room floor.

At ten O'clock the next morning, we were awaken to the haunting sound of the Wolf-Pack.  We found ourselves surrounded by my older bothers who were pointing at us, laughing hysterically like frenzied  hyenas gathered around the carcass of a dead animal.

Knowing what I had done to poor Gherhing I felt sorry for my freckled little friend... UNTIL!
Until....I  pulled my arms out from my sleeping bag and SCREAMED at the horrible fright that was before me  Ten billion boils covered my arms! I reached up and touched my face and felt the wall to wall mosquito bites. "Ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  I was Job from the Bible! I was Elephant man. I was the Hunchback of Notre Dame all rolled into one - I HAD LEPROSY!

"Unclean. Unclean." The Wolf Pack pointed at me and chanted hilariously. Gherhing didn't have a single bite!
What's worse, is that I was an "itcher" (I was a scratcher like that mange 'O cat). I scratched and clawed and bled and entered my first day of sixth grade in a stolen sweater as a scabby...pocked...plague-ridden leper.

To make things worse, Chewbacca took a black Marks-a-Lot marker and connected the dots making constellations all over my body. I looked like an 11-year-old escaped convict from a leper colony...and in Catholic school the kids petitioned Sister Superior that I wear a bell and announce my presence, whenever I was in ten feet of anyone.

I guess you know the moral of this story:

1) Don't believe everything your brothers tell you.                        
2) Bananas do not keep mosquitoes away.
3) If you wear boxing gloves to bed at night, they will keep you from scratching off all the scabs and help you defend yourself should the Wolf Pack attack.
4) Chlorine is good for pools... and
5)  "sticks and stones" may break my bones - which will certainly heal in time...but names can hurt a sixth grader.

Practice Kindness!

Oh, and Keith B, thanks for letting me "borrow" your sweater!

                                              

The Leprosy Episode of 1967 pt 1

In order for me to explain the traumatic "Leprosy Incident" of 1967, I have to take you back several years to one of our infamous, Dahlin cross-country trips. In that time in history - in the early sixties it seemed like everyone used gel on their hair to grease it down. It was cool. It is no secret, (that with as many kids as my parents had) that had my dad was always looking for ways of saving money. Who wouldn't, right? Sometimes he would stand on the back porch and ring his hands together nervously watching the dial-thing on the electrical meter spin fast and furious.  The poor guy would moan and groan as he visualized dollars flying away.

 "Turn off the Lights. Shut the doors. What's the matter with you...were you born in a barn?" He'd shout out desperately trying to slow down and consumption of electricity and capture some of those dollar bills that had wings and had taken flight.      "Can't anyone, ever turn off a light when they leave a room?"

Anyway, it was while staring at the spinning electrical meter that he came up with one of his brilliant ideas.  Now-a-days gas is like 30 cents a gallon, but back then it was about 25 cents a gallon and sugar was practically free. He invented hair gel by mixing sugar in a little bit of warm water - heck, who needed Brylcreem?



To the right is a picture of one of my brothers with his hair covered in Brylcreem...  or was it my dad's concoction of sugar water? 
       (isn't he cute ladies) 

It's just what we (as a culture) did...until The Beatles came along a couple years ago and changed everything.   So long greasy hair! 
  Hello "Mop Heads."   Hello long hair!

Anyway, since I was so much younger than the rest of the boys I wanted to make my dad feel good, so I stuck with the sugar-water...concoction all the way through 6th grade.

One day while I was digging through a couple layers of strata in one of the three rooms that collected junk in our house I came across a dusty old set of "World Book Encyclopedias."  The out side covers were red and beat up and looked to be a million years old.  For fun, I looked up California and was shocked to find that it said, California did not have mosquitoes. Well, I tell you right now, that if at one time...California didn't have mosquitoes - IT DOES NOW!   I think in 1963 those little blood-sucking pest discovered our sweet sugar-hair while we were back east and decided to followed us across country all the way back to Venice.  I was embarrassed to let anyone know that it was my family that was responsible for the illegal immigration of sap-sucking-yellow-bellied mosquitoes across the state line into the "Golden State"...which isn't so golden anymore - thanks to the Dahlins.  



To the left,  there I am (in the sixth grade) with my helmet head" -  hair plastered  with that mosquito-loving  potion of sugar-water.


 (speaking of cute?)



You might remember the pool that we had in our backyard..(you know, the one that the big boys used to shock O' Sister Godzilla (blog post 4/26/2013). Well, to be honest, sometimes it was pool and other times it was just a breeding ground for the mosquitoes that we were responsible for importing.   

Whenever Tommy wanted to come over and swim, his mom would interrogate him and ask, "What color is the pool, Tommy?" And if Tommy said it was green, then Mrs. Blaser forbade him from joining me and the mosquitoes larvae that were squirming in our breeding pond - that we still affectionately called a pool. 

Mrs. Blaser was convinced that Tommy would come home one day with malaria , and was told that if he ever lied, he would be grounded for, like - a hundred years!

It was the summer of 1967 and Mr. Blaser next door had just built a brand-spanking-new fence in their backyard. Their house looked like something right off the cover of Sunset Magazine... Ours, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. It was a junk yard which was a veritable paradise for 10 and 11 year-old-boys who liked to monkey around, create go-carts, use our imagination and build forts. A kid could build and do just about anything they wanted back there - it was awesome!

Gherhing the Great and I salvaged all the old "grape-stake" fencing that the Blasers had thrown away. We went through the alley and dragged in a ginormous pile of that old decrepit fencing, which we added to the vast collection of junk that had already been accumulating in my backyard. Tommy helped. I think his dad encouraged him to drag their trash into our backyard - seeing that I wanted it so badly.

It was definitely a win-win situation

It was two weeks before school and Gherhing the Great, Tommy and I had just finished building the second best fort in the entire world... Jimmy pooped in the first best fort in the whole world that we had to condemn it and fill in(blog post 7/26/2013). Last year's fort (the best in the world) was in a hole, but this one would be elevated above the ground!  Swiss Family Robinson  - you would have nothing on us.

Take a guess where we built it?  If you guessed right next to the pool-mosquito breeding pond, then you were right. Take a look at the picture of our pool again...(the one pictured above). Do you see the pole that is sticking up - just to the right of the stairs under that patio looking thing. Well, that's where we built our glorious fort that would rival the "Swiss Family Robinson" tree house. 

Using all that discarded and decorroded "grape-stake" us kids had built a thing of true beauty!

Now the test!     A sleep over...YEAH! Gherining the Great Tommy and myself.  

Only when the time came, Mrs. Blaser sat Tommy down in a dark room under a bright lamp and interrogated him about the color of the water. When Tommy described the color in three deep-shades of green that border-lined on blackish (like a scene from the Creature of the Black Lagoon), Mrs. Blaser forbade him Under Pain of Mortal Sin or worst - that he would be grounded for a thousand years. 


Turns out - that moms, know stuff! 


Gherhing and I packed up our sleeping bags, our flash lights, a couple Moon Pies and went out to spend the night in our amazing fort next to the THE BLACK LAGOON!

 Oh, I don't mean to get our family into any kind of trouble for bringing mosquitoes into the State of California, but I do think the Statute of Limitations has passed, should there be any type of Congressional Hearing over the matter.

Since we knew President Johnson (sort of), I guess you can say, he knew us - seeing us all naked and all, I wrote him a letter and begged for a Presidential pardon (Blog Post Snapping turtles)  "Oh Snap!"

Gherhing and I were afraid of the kind of monster that might crawl out of our pool that night, but we had no idea of the nightmare that awaited us.  TO BE CONTINUED!