Star Date: August 11th 1969.
I got back from the "diarrhea-trip to Valhalla" (otherwise known as the 1969 Boy Scout Jamboree in Idaho) to find that things were awfully weird on Harding Ave.
Wait!
Wait!
Wait...that didn't come out right...everything was always kind of weird on my street, because we lived there of course.
"Weird" is not the right word, maybe I should have said "unusual." Not that things had gotten normal all of a sudden, but that there was this ominous vibe in the air. I think the adults could explain it better, but as a kid it's something that you could feel by the silence.
Mr. Lennon was very athletic and always had his kids running time-trials up and down Naples avenue with a stop watch in his hand. I don't know if the times he recorded should have counted because the 50 and 100 dash-marks he painted in the street next to their house ran down hill towards Saint Marks church. Anyway, I think Danny and Mimi were his two fastest runners. Mr. Lennon was always trying to get us to race his kids, but I saw Mimi run a couple of times and knew that she could beat the pants off of me by a mile. Danny was playing football at Loyola University up on the hill with the big letter L that you could see from our house. Mr. Lennon's big challenge was his oldest boy, Danny, race against my oldest brother, Tony...
. ...i.e. the Lennons verses the Dahlins.
It was the anticipated event of the summer! But when I got back home to Venice from this Boy Scout trip with Troop 32, there was no visible activity going on anywhere on Harding avenue.
No diabolical plans of reeling in the old grouch next door (post 5/9/13).
No launching of flaming UFO's (post 8/24/13).
No bags of dooh-dooh on Edna's front porch.
No hamper torture (post 6/5/13)
No electrocutions (post 4/26/13 & 7/8/13).
No screeching down the streets in Hot Rods.
No Helm's Bakery Truck ambushes (post 8/3/13).
Tommy couldn't come out and play, the Blasers had to stay inside for some reason
Jeffry couldn't come out and play, Bob and Jeanette Lennon's family had to stay inside.
None of the Superior ave Lennons were around (and they were always around).
No touch football was taking place in the street. No kick-the-can and none of the Dahlins were shooting each other with B.B. guns nor we they hunting me with needle-tipped arrows.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but something wasn't right.
The hippies were in the back, quietly minding their own business, doing whatever it is they do in that back-ivy-cave with those "Mexican tomato plants" of theirs. I was beginning to get suspicious of those plants because they never seemed to grow any tomatoes - even after all the attention my brothers gave them.
One of hippies was making his way from the ivy enclave (the dark ivy cave that the older boys called "Wall Drug") when the Veloci-Rooster attacked and scared the "long-hairs" spit-less who then screamed like a little girl and fell onto the thin, tin walls of the old, pool-turned reptile-habitat. Stretched out across the side of the fallen tin wall, the freaked-out screeches of the long-hair turned to a muffle as the dude landed face down into the billion gallons of sand that we had stolen from Venice Beach. When the cocky attack rooster caught a glimpse of what was slowly making a predatory approach in the direction of the downed hippie, it wisely backed up and gave way.
The insidious yellow eyes of the creature blinked slowly as if assessing what to do with its victim. Exposing its dagger-shaped teeth the Caiman alligator appeared to have weighed it options and decided for escape rather than attack.
Let me tell you, "That was one lucky hippie!"
The "gator" creature took off across the stoned victim and began running in a frenzied circle around the backyard looking for the easiest means of exit.
Chickens flew! Feathers were everywhere! Rabbits and chuckwallas and guinea pigs and even the desert tortoises took cover. Things flung, rusty bikes buckled into a heap and old BBQs standing on three legs fell over as stacks of decaying National Geographics swayed as if under the influence of the latest earthquake.
The chicken squawking, the awful screaming, the animal caterwaul, and the clamorous racket of the symphony of dissonance alerted all of us in the house that something terrible was "afoot" (Sherlock Holmes would say), in the backyard. Tony and I looked out the window in time to see the gator making his way into the front yard. The prehistoric reptile ran to the soft tar street and couldn't decide which way to turn. I hoped the Tripps wouldn't open their front door after what had happened to them last time (post 8/1/13 Iguana Del Diablo) and thought how nice it would be if Edna's brother, Hutch, was makings one of his notorious visits to Harding Ave instead and had a close encounter of the worst kind with the savage reptilian gargoyle.
(Ricky Tripp pictured to the left).
Without any fear at all, Tony took off his shoes and bolted after the flesh eating monster. The sharped-toothed beast raised it's body on all fours and took off towards the Lennon house. Forget Tony verses Danny Lennon, this was Tony verses the lightning fast cold-blooded carnivore that had escaped from the Dahlin swamp.
Billy Lennon decided he would break the top security curfew and had lurking outside in front where he watched the whole thing.
Down the street, came the gator ablaze with the inspiration of freedom, followed by the barefooted Dahlin whose feet were moving so fast that you couldn't even see them.
Taking a right at the corner of the Lennon's house Tony bolted after the high-strung vertebrate and made a record 50-yard-dash, grabbing the tail of the raptor so that it could not run into the wide open doors of Saint Mark's Church!
Tony flung the thing around a couple times to scatter its feeble brain, heaved it over his shoulder and returned the ravenous beast to it home.
Billy knew! He saw the whole thing.
Billy knew that his oldest brother, Danny didn't stand a chance against my oldest brother! He sneaked back inside the safety of the compound and whispered accounts of the events of the epic race that took place right out in front of his house.
(I just put in the picture to the Right, for fun of course. The Lennon Sisters weren't really out in front during this latest episode...they were being diligently protected by the watchful eye of their Dad because of the rising intensity of the lunatic threats that the crazed fan, Chet Young, had made against Bill Lennon).
My birthday was in two days. I would finally become a teenager...13! But in two days that didn't seem to matter anymore.. because everything was about to change the very next day on our beloved street!
Venice as I knew it, was about to change forever!
Oh and if any one sees Keith Bjelajac, thank him for letting me borrow his Saint Mark's sweater.
Next Time: The Tagic News!
I got back from the "diarrhea-trip to Valhalla" (otherwise known as the 1969 Boy Scout Jamboree in Idaho) to find that things were awfully weird on Harding Ave. Wait!
Wait!
Wait...that didn't come out right...everything was always kind of weird on my street, because we lived there of course.
"Weird" is not the right word, maybe I should have said "unusual." Not that things had gotten normal all of a sudden, but that there was this ominous vibe in the air. I think the adults could explain it better, but as a kid it's something that you could feel by the silence.
Mr. Lennon was very athletic and always had his kids running time-trials up and down Naples avenue with a stop watch in his hand. I don't know if the times he recorded should have counted because the 50 and 100 dash-marks he painted in the street next to their house ran down hill towards Saint Marks church. Anyway, I think Danny and Mimi were his two fastest runners. Mr. Lennon was always trying to get us to race his kids, but I saw Mimi run a couple of times and knew that she could beat the pants off of me by a mile. Danny was playing football at Loyola University up on the hill with the big letter L that you could see from our house. Mr. Lennon's big challenge was his oldest boy, Danny, race against my oldest brother, Tony...
. ...i.e. the Lennons verses the Dahlins.
It was the anticipated event of the summer! But when I got back home to Venice from this Boy Scout trip with Troop 32, there was no visible activity going on anywhere on Harding avenue.
No diabolical plans of reeling in the old grouch next door (post 5/9/13).
No launching of flaming UFO's (post 8/24/13).
No bags of dooh-dooh on Edna's front porch.
No hamper torture (post 6/5/13)
No electrocutions (post 4/26/13 & 7/8/13).
No screeching down the streets in Hot Rods.
No Helm's Bakery Truck ambushes (post 8/3/13).Tommy couldn't come out and play, the Blasers had to stay inside for some reason
Jeffry couldn't come out and play, Bob and Jeanette Lennon's family had to stay inside.
None of the Superior ave Lennons were around (and they were always around).
No touch football was taking place in the street. No kick-the-can and none of the Dahlins were shooting each other with B.B. guns nor we they hunting me with needle-tipped arrows.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but something wasn't right.
The hippies were in the back, quietly minding their own business, doing whatever it is they do in that back-ivy-cave with those "Mexican tomato plants" of theirs. I was beginning to get suspicious of those plants because they never seemed to grow any tomatoes - even after all the attention my brothers gave them.One of hippies was making his way from the ivy enclave (the dark ivy cave that the older boys called "Wall Drug") when the Veloci-Rooster attacked and scared the "long-hairs" spit-less who then screamed like a little girl and fell onto the thin, tin walls of the old, pool-turned reptile-habitat. Stretched out across the side of the fallen tin wall, the freaked-out screeches of the long-hair turned to a muffle as the dude landed face down into the billion gallons of sand that we had stolen from Venice Beach. When the cocky attack rooster caught a glimpse of what was slowly making a predatory approach in the direction of the downed hippie, it wisely backed up and gave way.
The insidious yellow eyes of the creature blinked slowly as if assessing what to do with its victim. Exposing its dagger-shaped teeth the Caiman alligator appeared to have weighed it options and decided for escape rather than attack. Let me tell you, "That was one lucky hippie!"
The "gator" creature took off across the stoned victim and began running in a frenzied circle around the backyard looking for the easiest means of exit.
Chickens flew! Feathers were everywhere! Rabbits and chuckwallas and guinea pigs and even the desert tortoises took cover. Things flung, rusty bikes buckled into a heap and old BBQs standing on three legs fell over as stacks of decaying National Geographics swayed as if under the influence of the latest earthquake.
The chicken squawking, the awful screaming, the animal caterwaul, and the clamorous racket of the symphony of dissonance alerted all of us in the house that something terrible was "afoot" (Sherlock Holmes would say), in the backyard. Tony and I looked out the window in time to see the gator making his way into the front yard. The prehistoric reptile ran to the soft tar street and couldn't decide which way to turn. I hoped the Tripps wouldn't open their front door after what had happened to them last time (post 8/1/13 Iguana Del Diablo) and thought how nice it would be if Edna's brother, Hutch, was makings one of his notorious visits to Harding Ave instead and had a close encounter of the worst kind with the savage reptilian gargoyle. (Ricky Tripp pictured to the left).
Without any fear at all, Tony took off his shoes and bolted after the flesh eating monster. The sharped-toothed beast raised it's body on all fours and took off towards the Lennon house. Forget Tony verses Danny Lennon, this was Tony verses the lightning fast cold-blooded carnivore that had escaped from the Dahlin swamp.
Billy Lennon decided he would break the top security curfew and had lurking outside in front where he watched the whole thing.
Down the street, came the gator ablaze with the inspiration of freedom, followed by the barefooted Dahlin whose feet were moving so fast that you couldn't even see them.
Taking a right at the corner of the Lennon's house Tony bolted after the high-strung vertebrate and made a record 50-yard-dash, grabbing the tail of the raptor so that it could not run into the wide open doors of Saint Mark's Church! Tony flung the thing around a couple times to scatter its feeble brain, heaved it over his shoulder and returned the ravenous beast to it home.
Billy knew! He saw the whole thing.
Billy knew that his oldest brother, Danny didn't stand a chance against my oldest brother! He sneaked back inside the safety of the compound and whispered accounts of the events of the epic race that took place right out in front of his house.
My birthday was in two days. I would finally become a teenager...13! But in two days that didn't seem to matter anymore.. because everything was about to change the very next day on our beloved street!
Venice as I knew it, was about to change forever!
Oh and if any one sees Keith Bjelajac, thank him for letting me borrow his Saint Mark's sweater.
Next Time: The Tagic News!
