After Thanksgiving it is a tradition for "normal people" to put up Christmas lights. Though we lived in Venice, we had families on our block that liked to consider themselves on the fringe of normalcy and engaged in this annual yuletide ritual like the Blasers, the Nargies, the Tripps, and of course - the best Catholics in the world - the famous Lennon Sisters who lived across the street.Mr Blaser, right next door, was a perfectionist and needed to have his strings of lights "high and tight." They had to be perfectly straight and symmetrical... AND if you could believe it or not EVERY ONE of his light bulbs had to light up - or it was considered a high crime against the civil order of a 1st-World culture. (pictured above Tommy, Mrs Blaser and Grandpa).
(Pictured is Frank Nargie, the Mail Man). He and his wife Ida, spent an inordinate amount of time with their extensive "Annalee" doll collection and put up grandiose miniature city display inside their house that took up the entire living room).
(Pictured Ida with collection)
At this time of year Bob Lennon, the Vasquez family, and the Tripp family were busy with putting up Christmas lights as if they really didn't live in Venice, but were instead normal and "All American"...like the families portrayed on TV: for example the Cleavers; Ozzie and Harriet; My Three Sons and Father Knows Best!
(Pictured Leave it to Beaver)
(Pictured Father Knows Best)
(The Lennons - just look at 'em)
We, on the other hand, were completely out of the range of what normal Americana looked like!
(Our front yard with the Lennon house in background)
(Our Backyard: clearing bamboo for more marijuana plants )
(Even a trip to Kings River was a mob event - 17 of us pictured here). 
(In the street...) our cars and bare feet.
(At Tuna Canyon in Malibu) 
Somewhere
our house
The normal people at the corner - their house 
The Normal People in their backyard
On the other hand - there was us.
While the Blasers had a new Lincoln Continental parked in their driveway, here is a couple pictures of our driveway
...everything at our house was an event. Nothing just happened that was normal or in the way that regular people did things. Everything was a gang activity that eventually included water balloons, BB guns, ropes, makeshift straight-jackets, that eventually turned into a dog fight... and if you were lucky - it didn't include Electricity or a Water hose and a Pit.
Now that the guys were older, they were all too busy pruning the "Mexican Tomato Plants," harvesting the buds and hanging out in the hippy hutch in the backyard to be of any help in doing anything constructive.
ONCE AGAIN the arduous task of putting up the annual lights would probably be incumbent upon me and Pinky... (Pinky shown to the Left).
...sometimes I could get Karin (my little sister) to help, but she was 9 and didn't know how to tie a square knot - which was absolutely essential to success of this enterprise.
Today, besides what they were smoking out back, the greatest stumbling block to get any of my hippie brothers to help - was due to the spontaneous fiasco that was taking place in the dining room when a member of the illustrious Wolf Pack clan discovered that Lazarus "the Miracle Cat" (gag me) had brought a rat into the house and began to play with it...
The Disgusting Cat would let the poor rodent go and as it raced across the room for freedom and the scaly feline would pounce on it and bring it back to the starting point. Each time, Lazarus the cat would let the rat get further before the eventual pounce.This cat and mouse affair brought all of the hippies into the house which incited a wild betting frenzy.
Betting on the fate of this besieged rat turned out to be of more importance than helping little brother with the annual duty of putting up the Christmas lights. RIGHT!?
I could hear them below hollering, screaming, some cheering on the rat others the cat... meanwhile some of us had more important things to do then to be wasting time betting on the life a rat.
I always voted for the underdog, so I was hoping the rat would eventually make its escape. Downstairs where all the revelry was taking place in our Mutant Zoo: Johnny, the pigeon, was flying overhead, the spider monkey played with itself as it watched from the high wainscoting, and the foul mouthed Mynah-bird cussed at the boys for being locked up in its cage in the entry.
Grumpy is not even the word to describe the cat's disposition after losing the rat. With claws fully extended, the Grumpy Cat was downright fit to be tied and began throwing himself at the hippies in a tantrum.
I laughed! They deserved it!
I didn't think any of them heard me laugh. I had experienced the consequences of their wrath too many times to know that it wasn't a good idea - and tried to bottle up my secret jubilation inside.
I thought I had gotten away with it...but...little did I know that the older boys had retreated to the hippie-hut out back, the dark ivy cave we called Wall Drug, and began conspiring.
Meanwhile, in order to begin putting up our Christmas lights meant that I had to face three of my greatest fears...
One of those had to do with the rope I threw over my shoulder that I was going to use to pull up the strands of lights to the tippy-top of the house...
To be continued...
