Where the Hell is Tuolumne County You Went to Community College Where
https://www.simplertimeandplacethebesteraever.com/2018/04/
Simpler Time and Place recalls what it was like to grow-up in both Northern and Southern California in the 1960s and '70s. A time when kids could hop on the bus and go to the beach--in Los Angeles! As pre-teens, we could leave early in the morning for spring skiing and still make it back to Sac in time to hop in the American River not far behind the house. Once teenagers, we could outrun the cops and not get shot--officers just left a ticket with the folks! We were young, wild, and free.
Where the Hell Is Tuolumne County? You Went to Community College Where?
Hi Everyone,
We are powering in to our last four weeks of instruction. I haven't received a lot of traffic, yet this blog is as much a demonstration project for potential employment to showcase my writing abilities, improve upon my social media interaction, and tie-in with show themes.
During my travels around the Mother Lode and Sierra after graduation from Columbia College in Sonora, CA, I had time to journal, camping along the wild Tuolumne and Mokulome Rivers, and going to places like Calaveras Big Trees State Park.
My first post for ST& Place, Babysitting in LA circa 1970: Paul is Dead, draws upon the conspiracy to cover-up Paul McCartney's supposed death in an automobile accident and was penned at Columbia's High Sierra Campus or retreat.
The college located some 40 miles or so back down the highway from the Sonora Pass, owned a satellite campus of five sleeping lodges and a main cabin with a big kitchen, dining facility, and common lounge area at about the 6000 ft. above sea level. Classes on Creative Writing, Environmental Studies, and Forestry courses, were among the courses offered in the Spring and Summer--inclement weather an issue.
The next year or upon the completion of my sophomore year [Spring 2016,] I went with my Navy Vet friend, Robert, for a course on the disappearing Aspens that at one time made-up about twenty to thirty percent of the tree canopy of the Central Sierra; by the end of the last century, Aspen tree cover comprised less than three percent due to forest management practices and previous generations of planting more profitable fir and pine species.
These were fun one unit two day courses allowing for a three or four day hang-out, cozy by the granite chimney fireplace inside; kicking-back, the lodge and huge open-air fire-pits was where we would all end-up-at as students straggled in from a day hike or a late evening after dancing and drinking at the tavern less than a mile up the highway, Kennedy Meadows. The sprawling RV and camping retreat that featured daily horseback riding, becomes a small town of three or four hundred vacationers in guest cabins and RVs in the spring and summer.
I grabbed my old digital camera, and load-up some pics from that chapter of my life. Tuolumne County people are not the most sophisticated--they will tell you that!
Generally, not lacking for intellect in any way or sort, yet just not interested in the boasts of big-city lifestyles and trappings--but for CA they had a decidedly rural Oregonian feel I could relate to and were just decidedly down-to-earth.
Matter-of-fact, I just logged back in to put some pictures from the trip [originally published on 4/15] for some context.
On this issue of Tuolumne County or that whole Central Sierra region? Today's SF Chronicle [it was left at McDonald's and would never buy one!] had a front page article on 4th District of CA Congressman Tom McClintock. For reference, the district that runs just south of Tahoe, continues running south to almost King County and is basically from where the valley starts to the West across to the state line including...probably about eight or nine counties from recollection.
Anyhow, I only bring this up to demonstrate how of different values those living in Mariposa, Tuolumne, Calaveras, and Amador Counties are from what we associate as Californians. This large swath of the HWY 49 Mother Lode, Wine Country, and Several State and National Forests is Republican Congressman McClintock's district.
While living for about a year-and-a-half in Amador County and about two-and-a-half years in Tuolumne, the people are hip like Californians--did not see but a few backward or racial/homophobia types...
However, definitely a kind of Reagan Republicanism with property & 2nd amendment rights very much ideologically identified with--Libertarians, philosophically.
We have to remember, many of that region's family members were still employed in natural resources jobs such as in the timber industry and in Calaveras and Amador, mining was a major employer even up until or throughout much of the 1980s, for instance; case in point, the racial or ethnic make-up is much less cosmopolitan. Lots of LBGT folks, certainly. However, very few blacks and even fewer of an Asian or Eastern Indian background. Many Latino families by virtue of the contributions and long history of having settled in the region dating back centuries, but as I said, I do not think there is any real institutional racism. Instead, I chalk-up the demographics being rooted-in more of an Good-Old-Boy Network of long time residents who have roots and love living there, retirees--mostly from the Bay Area and Sacramento--and the lack of employment opportunities since the loss of those natural resources jobs.
...tourism and outdoor recreation, aside.
It just goes to show how there were a lot of State of Jefferson supporters in that neck of the woods. All three of the county governments just mentioned--Amador, Calaveras, and Tuolumne-- have given a vote and proclamation of support by their elected county representatives going on-record of embracing the idea of creation of the 51st State and it's even more radical cousin:
The Greater Cascadia Movement involving making the Cascades & Upper Sierra/Siskiyou Mountain Ranges not only a break-away state, but an entire new country that would capture Portland/Vancouver, Seattle, WA and on up into VC British Columbia, including Anchorage, AK.
...like the Globalists would ever let that resource rich soon to be economic powerhouse of Libertarian or survival-of-the-fittest area become an autonomously governed region or country!
Living in SF or what we call "The Bay Area Bubble" is soooo different then those years attending Columbia College in Sonora or trying to figure-out what to do after my Mother's convalescence swiftly followed by Virginia's stroke, and my financial downfall landing hard--first on a cousin's couch in Plymouth, CA or the year spent at Victory Village Veterans Center in Jackson.
....very different.
There you go...how about I leave you with a picture of Mercer Caverns and my intrepid '86 4x4 Subaru Wagon--complete with North Dakota plates...that's a whole other chapter, people.
After graduation spending the summer of 2016 in the car throughout the Mother Lode?
...priceless!
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on April 19, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Babysitting in LA circa 1970: Paul is Dead
...listen to the best song the Beach Boys Never Did: Beach Baby (1974) by First Class...YouTube video courtesy of djqlxix2112
Visualize sitting calmly on the floor of the den at our three-bedroom two bath ranch house in Pacific Palisades, minding ones’ own business playing Beatles albums on the old Magnavox portable record player; newly minted nickels bearing Jefferson’s image are Scotch Taped to the tonearm to negate records slightly warped from the LA sun waning through the sliding glass door to the patio. Nightfall approaching, mom and dad have taken up what for them is a rare Hollywood Party (as conservatives, they rarely attended for obvious reasons despite father being a television writer-producer) All of a sudden, the evil older sisters come barging-in through the door.
“Draaake,” the oldest one, Shawna asks. “Did you know that Paul McCartney is Dead?” Immediately distraught--my favorite Beatle has always been Paul--I am overcome with feelings of sadness; after all, it was Paul’s picture hanging on my sisters wall which I was encouraged to kiss years earlier at our previous house, here in Sea Cliff—which explains a lot—but we will explore issues of orientation at some later date (just kidding, people…eeeww!)
Dumbfounded, I enter the next stage of acceptance upon hearing bad news---Denial: “He is not dead…is he?” I protested. Armed with an LA Times, the middle sister, Dorian, thrusts the paper dated January something nineteen-seventy bearing the headline, Is Paul McCartney Dead? under my nose. Granted, it is not plastered all over the front page nor very convincing of a statement even for a ten-year-old, yet hardly a modern day “fake news” story, either.
Reading the article in disbelief, Shawna, commanders the phonograph rocking the speed selector between 331/3 RPM [a supposed, Free Mason Number and why did “they” pick this speed for the playback of vinyl records…? Oh, that’s another conspiracy blog, never mind!] and the 45 RPM setting. Anyhow, youthful Millennials, in doing so, she could now play a record backwards once her finger is put on the LP to spin it in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Dorain replies, "We are going to prove that Paul is dead!"
"YOU PATHETIC MORON!” Shawna adds.
Out comes the Beatles White Album as the oldest evil doer, Shawna, begins to play a song entitled, “Revolution # 9”. At first forward: “number nine, number nine, number nine…” the voice on the song repeats in monotones as she rocks the speed selector into neutral, finger on the disc--between 33 Revolutions-per-minute and 45 RPM, the record begins rotating backwards, when out of the speaker to my astonishment comes the phrase, “Turn me on dead-man…Turn me on, dead-man”
…So What!, I protested.
By now, Dorian is armed with several Beatles album jackets, thumbing through the pictures within the album Magical Mystery Tour to find the “blood” retouched on Paul’s Moccasins, flipping the album jacket over she points to the picture of Paul being the only one adorned with a black carnation.
“The sign of death!” she shrieks. “…and look,” she states slowly, “Here on the front, Paul is the one wearing the Walrus Costume—A Welsh sign of death!”
To which I reply, “What?”
“He was Welsh,” she says.
“…like the Grape jelly?” I asked.
“Noooo, it is a country, midget-mind,” Dorian states smugly.
As if on cue, Shawna doesn’t miss a beat as the song, “Glass Onion” begins to blare from the phonograph, the words of John Lennon singing: “…Here’s another clue for you all-awl…The Walrus was Paul.”
“The Beatles put clues about Paul’s death on their albums,” Dorian states as if it is a matter of fact.
Feeling my face turning red, heart racing, I look around the now juxtaposed room, Dorian launching into a mantra:
“PAUL IS DEAD… PAUL IS DEAD…PAUL IS DEAD!”
Shawna is now laughing hysterically as I break into tears, crying uncontrollably when...
Suddenly, the door swings open:
“What the hell is going on here?” Dad asks sternly, Mom looking confused as I run to her protective arms.
Shawna: Uh… we were just trying to share with Drake…uh, you know...Dad, about this Paul McCartney being like maybe…dead?” Shawna beginning to mumble, looking down at the floor.
To which our father replies,
“Oh, I see…We go out for one night, one night, and come back to the whole house in an uproar!”
“Now calm down, Honey,” mom says stroking my forehead, but looking at father who exclaims:
“I need a belt”
“You’re not going to whip my sisters are you Dad?”
Mother knows this is not the case, asking,“Would you like me to get us a drink, Dear?”
Mom cheerily asks looking at him in that Nancy Reagan-esque way that just infuriated my already feminist--soon-to-be-attending Santa Monica City College--Oldest Sister, Shawna.
“Make it a double,” Dad replied, Mom happily heading-off towards the kitchen, Dad adding, “Please do not torment your little brother, he’s not playing with a full deck half the time, anyway.”
Shawna: “You are always treating him differently. THIS IS NOT FAIR!”
“Shawna…you’re a Communist!” Father stated without a hint of sarcasm. “The sooner everyone learns that life is not fair and some people are more equal than others the sooner you kids will be ready to face the world. We will discuss this tomorrow---OFF TO YOUR ROOMS, EVERYONE!”
Narrowly escaping the wrath of Willard, we scurried down the long hallway of the SoCal mid-century ranch house, me into my P.J.s, Shawna to pick-up the receiver and call a friend on her turquoise Western Electric Southern California Bell connected Princess Phone, and Dorian pilling into bed across the hall from me to write in her diary.
When mom came back to tuck-me-in, the reassuring clinking of ice cubes from her high-ball glass could be heard coming down the hall, I was still shaken and asked if Paul was indeed dead:
“Honey, we know that you and your sisters are still upset about the Beatles breaking-up. Your Dad being in show-biz and all thinks that all of this talk is to prop-up falling record sales—a publicity stunt,” she stated reassuringly.
Still concerned, I snuggled-in and replied, “I sure hope so mom, I love Paul.”
Giving me that puzzled look that I still sometimes remembered getting around that age, she replied, “Daddy is to go back to Capitol [Records] tomorrow to do some sound work for Death Valley Days…I’ll have him ask around--see if there is any truth to all of this nonsense, Dear. We Love You, sleep tight.”
The light of the hallway giving way to the door-shutting, I flip on the AM clock radio at a low level; Hef will have to do his show, Playboy After Dark without me sneaking a look—no bunnies tonight---over the black and white; I had best not push my luck, I thought drift’in-off as California Dreamin’ played on 93 KHJ…so I did.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_is_dead
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on April 13, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
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