Tribute to Mary Blaser and how the World is Different!

 A hundred years ago, back when we were kids, the world was a much different place.  Well, it wasn't quite a hundred years ago - it was only about half of that.  We didn't have computers - computer games - cell phones - smart phones - instant access to all of the information in the world at our fingertips and knew nothing of SOCIAL MEDIA.

For fun we actually had to play outdoors! You know, play: kick-the-can, hide-and-go seek until it got dark, build forts, hang out on front porches, fix cars and get dirty!  That was our way of being social... it actually meant being connected and making physical contact.

The internet was my front yard.

In the days we wore blue jeans with holes and fixed cars in the street.   In the days that if you needed to know something, you had to ask someone or look it up in an encyclopedia - because there was no YouTube "how to" videos!


This was back when kids climbed and people got hurt...That's the way it was back then...

Back in the day that we knew our neighbor and hung out with our neighbors...sang songs and did skits in the front lawn...

...smoked out in the backyard 

and just about everywhere else for that matter...

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        ...played practical jokes - (not just video games) but did silly things like making a kid hang on the bucket in a well or stashed in a hamper, or electrocuting nuns or kids , and dressing up and stealing Edna's avocados. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               ...went fishing together...  (pictured: Erick, Mark and Tommy with his big catch - in front of Blaser house). 

There was no 911 - and no cell phones - and no instant access to everything you need when you desperately needed it... It made finding parents more difficult and emergency-response slower which should have made those times more dangerous... I almost died a couple times because of it - but we lived through it!

* And it was also a time that we did lots of stupid stuff like racing over the Venice canals when cars could still traveled over them in both directions...what were we thinking and how did world survive?  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            The other thing we did in our form of social networking was to practically live in each other's homes. 

Our parents even went into business together: DAHLIN/BLASER Reality!  

Today, there is very little adventure. People drive hot rods on computer games and talk to people half-way around the world, but barely make contact with the person next door. They do all of this all from the safety of their couch and insulated from true physical contact.  Today, there is good chance that you don't know your next door neighbor... but back then you knew all your neighbors. You knew what they were having for dinner... you knew whether they would be watching the Lennon Sisters on TV or Perry Mason, or Star Trek or Bonanza.  None of that had to be posted on Facebook and the parents of your best friends became like a second set of parents to you (you know the "It takes a whole village" kind-of-thing).
   

I hung out a lot at Tommy's house... slept in his fort... ate their food... 

and a lot of people hung out at my house. 

...and back then, other adults in the neighborhood could tell you what to do and what not to do!  Mrs. Blaser, more than any other mother on our street was like my second mom. Her food was always better than ours - well they actually had meals at their house and she was a great cook! Her chili tradition on Halloween was the best!  She had a way of interrogating Tommy and Jeffery and me... She would always say to Tommy just after I had just gotten him to do something stupid, "Tommy, if Mark jumped from a ten story building, it doesn't mean you have to jump from a ten story building."  

She had a strong moral compass. She didn't want me or Tommy or her kids saying the "Darn" word and were threatened to have our mouths washed out with soap. 

She was practical. Always asking Tommy what color the water was of our pool before she would allow him to swim in it, "is the water green and is it filled with mosquito larva?"  she would ask. The only problem was she never asked about how many of the older Dahlin boys were hanging out in our backyard when he wanted to come over and swim in our pool. Which meant that although the water was clear - she couldn't prevent him from being electrocuted along with Karin, (little) Mary Blaser and me.  

She was kind.  When I was pushed through the front window next their entrance door - she treated me with compassion instead of yelling at me for breaking their window. 

                                                                                            She cared. She is the one who called me and said that our stupid dog, Bluin, was begin attacked by the Veloci-attack-rooster.  The Veloci-Raptor was responsible for giving the poor dog a frontal lobotomy, but Mrs. Blaser was responsible for savings its life. 

She never tried to get even!  She didn't do anything nasty to us for throwing the skunk "stink-sacks" over the fence into the mouth of Ginger, the eager collie, who was anxiously waiting to attack and bite into the potent scrumptious gizzards of the toxic smelling road kill  - THAT - Ginger lovingly brought into the house as a gift to share with the entire family.  

Mrs. Blaser was trusting! For some unknown and mysterious reason, Mrs. B allowed me to take her youngest kids - her most precious jewels - four wheel driving and off to Kings River teaching Michael to water ski behind a 15 horse power motor.                                                                                                                                               Boat accidents and plenty of misadventures                                                                                                                                                                         And...for some reason we always made it back alive and in one piece.    MIRACLE! 

Like the time I had every single kid on Harding Avenue in the back of my K5 Chevy Blazer for one of my infamous and illegal midnight beach escapades... WHEN... my big-block racing-motor cut out with the police racing down the bike path in Playa Del Rey - lights on and sirens blaring in hot pursuit. I had no choice, but to kick all 23 kids out of the back of my Chevy Blazer and made them push the gas-starved beast out of a huge sand hole. However, when the engine suddenly roared back to life I left a trail of Harding kids in the dust cloud and stranded on the beach - in the middle of the night! To this day - I have no idea how I managed to outrun the cops and also how I managed to regroup with all the scattered kids that ran off in a hundred different directions at the Playa Del Rey stables without any kind of contingency plan in place.

P.S. Don't tell Mrs. Tripp, or Mrs. Nargie or Mrs. MacClain or any of the other moms... shssss our secret!   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Mrs. Blaser was giving. She gave us the use of her backyard for my wedding reception.  For numerous functions and for fourth of July fireworks (not to mention the time where the invited Dahlins nearly burned down the apartment building behind her house)... Whew.. that was close!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          ...AND for a thousand other things we did in that beautiful backyard and wonderful deck! 

...and for my dad's, "Mr. D's" final birthday celebration... 

We worked with each other over at Century 21 O'Donnell and Associates.                                                                                                                                                                                                             The ladies in front of my Mercedes 

We became friends and although I felt like I could call her Mary, I continued to call her Mrs. Blaser out of respect for my second mom who was Wise and Kind and Compassionate and Caring and Giving and Generous.  Thank you Mrs. Blaser for enriching my life - for adding value to our close-knit neighborhood... for your discipline... for your friendship... and for loving me - both when I was young as if I were one of your own...  

....and when I grew older.

I love you... Mrs. Blaser! I miss you and I'll see you on the other side!    Your other son - the kid from next door - Mark                                                                                                                     Oh, and I guess I should tell someone (specifically a Blaser), where the treasure trove of stolen lawn tools have been buried - the ones that had the orange "B"  painted on them - which we had sanded off - and repainted with the letter "D" instead.                                             "Forgive us our trespasses!" 

     *Venice canal picture posted on Facebook (I grew up in Venice) by Kelly Scarborough!

Venice Infected by the Paranormal

(Ouija continued)

Kurt had fallen through the floor and was now caught between the sharp, teeth-like plaster that had dried downward between the century old lath.  It was the wicked "ooze" I tell you - that drew us to this spot by the bewitching of the Ouija Board that we found ourselves At the Devil's Door... itself.

That "harmless" board game communicated with ancient Housebound spirits that now had Kurt trapped in the bowels of its dark clutches and the rest of my older brothers contemplated whether or not to leave him in the dark abyss to die. The demonic Ooze was everywhere. The Wolf Pack had been contaminated and I alone could smell the rotting stench of decaying flesh. Yes, we had opened a portal to the dark forces of the supernatural that had spilled out and filled the hippie hangout in the ivy cave in the backyard that my older brothers affectionately called Wall Drug.


Anyone who stepped in the slim carried that cancerous substance with them where ever they went. It might have infected the Lennons,  the Blasers and the Nargies by now.

It had infested the rundown shanty's of the Venice canals where the notorious Hell's Angels hung out.


It made its way down to Main Street and Westminster Avenue to a place everyone called "Heroin Park" where strung-out hippies went to get a fix and to sunbathe - sometimes with clothes on.


I was worried for Kurt's life. The Ooze we had released back in 1962 was powerful and I believe it was responsible for Kurt's near-death at Kings River The Tragic Death of Dooh-Dooh Pants ...my being Left Behind at Salton Sea Left Behind ....for the electrocutions - for the burials (click here) The Igloo of Death- for the smothering episodes, for the Templates, for the needle tipped arrows, for the mess in the backyard Trash Towers of Venice and for almost burning down the Lennon Sister's house Roswell and the UFO crash.  I think it had something to do with the invasion of the Detroit Convent and the spontaneous Exorcism The Naked kid and the Exorcism ...for the Possessed Whale A Whale of a Tail. AND, Oh...yeah it's all linked!  This Paranormal tool used to communicate with the dead was trying the kill us off one by one - We were The Marked Ones.  And now this evil presence was on it's fourth attempt to kill Kurt- and this time, the house was trying to swallow him whole.

I said a quick prayer - especially the part about "Deliver us from Evil" at the end of the "Our Father." Coincidentally that is when the Wolf Pack decided to pull him out of the pit rather then let him rot between the walls. The dry plaster made it like trying to pull him out of the mouth of a shark and no matter how hard they pulled the more the sharp brittle plaster tore into his skin. We were losing the battle - this was worse than the time we tried to pull Ulrich out of the monkey pit at the LA Zoo Dahlins at the Zoo.

REMEMBER - THIS IS ALL TRUE!

It appeared hopeless and seemed like the evil spirits were going to win this one. They had Kurt and were not about to give him up as easily as the time we let the 600 monkeys escape. Kurt's face was pressed up against a round metal object that turned out to be a knob to cabinet-sized doors of a hidden - never yet discovered secret room in this old house. Turning the small knob with mouth, he managed to crack open the ancient doors that led directly into pitch blackness. This was his only hope. This was his only escape. Inch by inch he fought against the plaster and wormed his way up - contorting his body like a worm. In he crawled into the blackness and was now like Jonah in the belly of the giant fish that had swallowed him.

Quickly, Tony scavenged the backyard bringing back an ax and began chopping a hole in the wall of the bedroom.  Pounding through old paneling and wallpaper and plaster he busted a opening into the space where Kurt was trapped. This was the forgotten room that we were lead to by the dark powers of the Ouija Board.

This hole was eventually turned into a loft that was now my bed (see picture to the left), and from the smell of black evil Ooze, I was positive that I slept in the very portal of the evil forces that had been released from the lake of fire itself.

And so, as I said before - I was happy to have this high advantage in this loft bed that offered me three sides of protection from the sinister night raids from the Wolf Pack, but was also very much afraid of the dark - for I knew what had been released. The Ooze was everywhere and I could smell it, so I was probably the only 8th grader in the entire world who prayed the "Our Father" every night and asked that God would give me a good "right hook" so that I could take out a couple members of the Wolf Pack whenever they attacked or land a well placed fist on Ulrich or any of the members of his angry little-men-crew from time to time.

              Sniff... "Pew, is that Ooze I smell on my shoe? I was infected!

Equal and Opposite Reaction: Deadly Missile

I know this isn't the best photo in the world, but the picture above gives you a glimpse of what life was like at my house on just about any day of the week.  
   Chaos and Mayhem! 


On the very left (of the picture above) is one of our tribe members who had been knighted with the nickname, "Pinky." He joined our family when he was about 12 - that's when I was only about 6.  When he was in the 7th grade he followed one of my brothers home from school and just ended up staying - like forever. He had been around ever since I had a memory and so I figured he was part of our tribe, but I could tell there was something different about Pinky from the rest of us. Besides the obvious fact that Pinky had dark hair, he was also was about the size of three of us Dahlins put together.  I don't want to say anything that would hurt anyone's feelings, but the guy was...ummmm...large!  One of my brothers said that "Pinky was so big he could kick-start a 747-Jumbo jet."


All that to say, that Pinky and the usual amount of chaos prominently figure into the death story of McIlliot's Pool which started with something very much like the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 when Ulrich launched the nuclear warhead of loogie onto American territory down my throat.

The conflict escalted into a full on nuclear retaliation of my own with a puke counter-launch that sprayed everything in a 20 foot radius. I figure it was probably jsut like something between the United States and the Soviet Union. 

This was all very much  like a Dr. Strangelove - if you know what I mean. 
 
I promise there wasn't much in the pool at all, but everyone made a "such a big deal" about it and climbed out of the water as if they would get Diphtheria or Diarrhea from the nuclear fallout of Fish-Stick particles that floated on the surface of the pool.

 Little babies!

I could see Tommy and Kjersten and Annie fussing, but Ralph was a 12-year-old with a mustache. He acted like the biggest baby of them all.
 
I might also be over-reacting, because it hurt my feelings that Ulrich had launch a precision laser-guided warhead of mass destruction and everyone was mad at me for some reason. I felt that someone should have taken my side and been mad at Ulrich with me, BUT NO!  Now, I'm the bad guy.  All I heard for the next 12 minutes is, "Markie D this and Markie D that... Barf-O-Bits this and Barf-O-Bits that... Oil spill this and Oil spill that...ha ha ha ha!"   "Ha ha yourself... I'm rubber and your glue"

How do you tell a little nine year old girl she just hurt your feelings without sounding like a girl yourself. So I just kept it all in while they watched me clean up the concrete pool deck all by myself.

We had about 50 cents between the 5 of us, so I told them to walk down to the corner liquor store and get some candy they could share, while I finished up the duty commensurate with Catholic guilt and penance.  I scrubbed the vomit off the sidewalk next to the pool, saying a couple "Hail Marys" and several "Our Fathers."




When the victorious troops arrived back... Tommy had already eaten the entire Chick-O-Stick without saving me one bite - Ralph was flaunting his candy cigarettes.. and Kjersten and Annie licked the necklace and candy dots they were sharing - knowing that I wouldn't want any.

( I wonder who thought of that one? Candy Cigarettes for kids!) 

Anyway, I figured that I would have the last laugh.

The filter had been running and the pool was clean, but no one in our rambunctious outfit was too interested in jumping into the cool water.

It became one of those games where... we challenged each other to dive in, but that didn't work. Then we tried the game where we could try to fake each other out... "Okay everyone, let's all go in on the count of three. Okay ready, One...Two...Three" we shouted in unison as Ralph and I get an Academy Award for pretending to jump while Kjersten and Annie leapt fool-hardheartedly into the deep end. Tommy didn't fall for it and the three of us boys laughed at the gullible girls.

It felt good for a change to be on the laughing end of something. Still demanding justice and a little hurt, I pushed in Tommy and then Ralph into the water.

I was King of the Universe... at least king of the McElliot pool universe standing all by myself as if I had just won another Olympic Gold Medal in the "king of the hill" competition.  It felt good for about 8 seconds and then it felt like a pretty empty victory after that.

Hang on I'm getting to the "Rat Killer" and to Joan and to the phone call and to the chaos and to the "Pinky" part!

Ralph ended up furious... more than any 12-year-old kid should be - for being pushed into a pool. My goodness, I was going to join him in a second, but he freaked out! He can after me with fire in his eyes that the cold water couldn't put out.

Around and around and around and around we ran. He just wouldn't give up!  He was the oldest boy in his family and had a bunch of older sisters. Maybe he felt like a neutered alpha-male at home and had something to do with his ridiculous rage. This thing was never going to end and I knew that he was never going to catch me! Didn't he know that I spend the greater part of my life running from brothers - EVERY SINGLE DAY?  Doesn't he know that I have learned to fight like a junk yard dog?  Doesn't he remember the infamous "Sour-Dough Toast Fight" of 1966 (blog post 6/29/13). 

There was just no way he was going to win, but I guess wounded pride and ego is a psychological force to be reckoned with. Although he was never going to catch me, I could tell he had no intention of giving up. I needed to offer him a sense of victory to settle things in his mind- the poor fella.  I shifted directions and dodged him for like the umpteenth billionth time, but this time I pretended to not to see him coming the other way and gave myself to him as a ransom.

He was so smug and so happy... but it wasn't real and now I felt guilty (either that or my own sense of evil pride kicked in)!  Kids have weird wiring, right?  I thought "You know what Markie D.. I'll let him push me in, but he'll have to earn it first." I pulled away easily the first time just to show that I may be small, but was a force myself to be reckoned with.  Yawn.. I let him grab me again...and was too squirrely for him to push me into the pool - there was just no way. If I was going to go in just to make him happy then he would have to pull me into the pool. The way I looked at it, if I had to go in, then both of us were going!

He turned and with feet planted on the edge of the pool, he leaned out over the water with the 50 pounds of extra weight he had on me...but I was Markie D!  I thought, "You know what...I'll show him one last time who is boss of this situation." I dug deep into the reservoir of my superhuman adrenaline strength (The kind a mother gets when she lifts up a car to save her baby), and made the decision to break his grip one more time!

My plan was to slip out of his grip,watch him fly backwards into the pool and then join him in the water by swan diving like one of those Acapulco Cliff divers. I wrote myself  to be the hero of this plot.

The only thing I failed to consider - was the fact that as he pulled me into the pool... I was pulling in the opposite direction - directly towards the glass wall of the adjacent pool room.

Do you know that thing about Sir Issac Newton's Third Law of physics, about how every action has an equal and opposite reaction?  Sister Edith said this was very important to space flight and I found out the hard way just how true this really was.

When Ralph took flight and shot backwards into the pool, it also sent me with the equal amount of force in the opposite direction.

Well, the second I left the launching pad with that much force and flying towards that stationary glass wall I knew I was in trouble

"Have you ever noticed sometimes that when you win - you lose"
                                                                                  Markie D

Part 5 The TRAGIC TALE: Twilight Saga of Biblical Proportions

Did you ever have a life defining moment when things just didn't seem to go your way.  When searing pain and bitter disappointment seemed to build a nest in your heart. Those times when you feel let down or stabbed in the back by someone close whether a parent, a spouse, a brother, a sister, or a best friend. Why do those wounds seem to be the worst, as if a dagger had been plunged into your heart and irreparably ripped open. Why do these particular wounds feel like it may take forever to heal? I think the reason things like betrayal, abandonment and wounds (especially from those close to us) hurt so bad is because we were created for close connections. We were designed and wired for close intimate relationships and have this expectation that love will protect and that love is forever. What a crushing blow to discover that as humans we are fickle and committed more to the protection of self at any cost, than the tremendous cost that true love demands... 

Since we live in this tension of constantly being let down, I guess as humans, we have to figure out how to cope with disappointments and where to turn for healing for these lingering wounds... Perhaps this is why some of the deepest scares are those bore by children, because their emotional capacity is not yet developed to handle abuse, cruelty and exploitation at the hands of those they placed so much trust.

Yep, kids are especially fragile.

It was hot and dry at Salton Sea, but an invisible tornado of emotional destruction was headed towards the Marina as the Dahlins prepared to depart their 4 inglorious days of camping. The boys were fighting for places in the car, Mrs. D was yelling, "Under pain of mortal sin" beckoning all those that couldn't squeeze into the Dodge to join her and the girls to experience another three hours of "Shake 'N Bake" in the dreaded  trailer. Meanwhile, Dooh-Dooh Pants was intentionally passing gas as a means of terrorism that instigated a fight among the Wolf Pack as hot sweaty bodies pressed up against windows in the over-packed station wagon.

Meanwhile, Markie D happily bounded out the Diner with his red Popsicle. The four ounces of liquid and sugar would probably help him survive the terrible ride home bouncing around in the the hot trailer among the junk and gas fumes.

With both eyes focused on his ice-cold Popsicle, Markie D reached up and grabbed the handle of the trailer (that he was forced to ride in by his older brothers).

NOTHING! He grabbed nothing, but a fist full of air. The trailer had vanished! Bam, just as if it had been sucked into the tractor beam of an alien spaceship.  In panic he looked up into the troposphere, but could not see a UFO!
(Now back to first person) 

It was happening...I was begin erased. I looked up and saw the caravan of bodies stuffed in the old Dodge and trailer pulling out of the parking lot. THEY HAD LEFT ME BEHIND! Was this a cruel trick? Did they plan this? Was it a conspiracy to get rid of me? Why did mom let them leave without me?

DIDN'T ANYONE CARE? Was I just refuge like the dirt washed off all those dirty bodies to run waste in the gutter. Not a single lick of my red Popsicle, I ran up the slight incline of the marina onto the two lane highway after my family. They were moving slow, I thought I could catch 'em. I ran as fast as the legs of a 9-year-old could run, but the lights on the back of that trailer got smaller and smaller and smaller. I stood and watched.

This was before the era of 911 and cell phones. I was left to die in the desert. I stood on that hot asphalt and stared at the fading tail lights of my departing family until they had completely disappeared. My world was small and I knew I lived in Venice, but nothing more than that. I was lost, alone and abandoned.

I couldn't take one lick of my red Popsicle as I sadly shuffled back to the staging area - at the curb outside the Diner. I sat on the curb and sorely missed my family - sure that I would never see them again. I wondered if this is what Joseph (in the Bible) felt like when his older brothers and sold him into slavery and left him stranded in the desert. I was sure someone would steal me and I would be held prisoner to a wondering band of Salton-Sea-ites.

I sat on the curb as the melting red dye dripped down my arm and pooled into a puddle of red and dirt next to my feet.  I sat. I sat holding my red stick as though it was the last remaining remnant of my family. I would not let go of my little red Popsicle stick.

I knew one prayer, "The Our Father" but was too choked up to squeese one syllable out of my parched dry lips. I cried and sat as TWILIGHT turned to horrid dusk!  Me and my Popsicle stick and my puddle of red mud that had dripped from my elbow. This was probably the most pathetic sight recorded in the history of the universe. An blonde haired aborigine with one clean red streak that ran from my tight fist of my right hand to tip of my elbow. My heart felt like it was begin squeezed in a vice as I felt my existence fade.

LEFT!
        ALONE!
                  ABANDONED!
                                     FORGOTTEN!

 I wanted to go back to the crazy, dysfunctional, wonderful family that had let all the monkeys out of the zoo.

I sat and cried until I had no more moisture left in my body to produce any more tears... "drenched to the bone." The hardest part, I guess, was that nobody noticed!

 

"The times they are, a changing" 

At least for me they were. 

I reckon that the universal question that we all have to wrap our minds around at some point in our lives is: Why do bad things happen to good people?