Even the flu doesn’t halt Baywood memories
I’ve got the rockin’ pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu.
Thankfully, my sainted mother taught me to make the best of all
situations and I handle illness great. I let Nancy do all the work.
Aye chee waa waa.
Even the flu doesn’t halt Baywood memories
I’ve got the rockin’ pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu. Thankfully, my sainted mother taught me to make the best of all situations and I handle illness great. I let Nancy do all the work. Aye chee waa waa.
When I get the boogie woogie flu I always think I’m going to die so the first thing I do is throw out all my girlie magazines. I wouldn’t want Nancy to think I’m a pervert. Then I think of the only thing I wish I had done before I die. Well two things. I would love before I die to run a hometown newspaper in Hollister. The only rule I would have is absolutely no stories of Gilroy or Morgan Hill. The only exception would be if they found Adolf Hitler’s body on the border between Gilroy and Morgan Hill and then only if he was cross-dressing wearing a Shirley Temple outfit and curly locks wig.
When rockin’ pneumonia sets in I like to sip a little toddy for the body and think about Baywood Creamery when I was a kid growing bigger and bigger in Hollister. I won’t say I was husky but the State Theater on the same block as Baywood’s charged me for two seats. As a teen Baywood’s was a little too pricey but thank the gods of dairy for sending down from heaven Mrs. Menzel. Dougie’s mother was the world’s first soccer mom before there were soccer moms. A statue to Mrs. Menzel should be erected somewhere in Hollister as the world’s first soccer mom. Her Studebaker was always full of Dougie’s friends going to a game, scouts, a movie or the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz.
I loved when she took us to the Boardwalk as then there was no bypassing Watsonville and you had to pass Pronto Pup’s. To call them corn dogs is to call Joy Bahar a lady. But it was Baywood Creamery in Hollister with its MGM movie set of what a creamery should look like that I enjoyed the best. The booths were built for Bob’s Big Butt and the milkshakes were thicker than Rosie O’Donnell’s thighs. And I don’t think anyone growing up after 1950 has any idea what real whipped cream tastes like. Thank you, Mrs. Menzel. I can see you now tooling around in heaven in your Studebaker full of kids cloud hopping as you used to do with us clodhoppers.
History was made last week as for the first time 99 percent of you got the answer to my Quick Quiz. How many great movies did Elvis make: 40, 20, 10 or none? It would have been a 100 percent but for some ditzy broad on Wright Road said she has all of his movies and they were all great. Can you imagine a home with more than 30 Elvis movies? The only redeeming value of her admission was that her envelope smelled of the greatest aroma ever – eau de tamale as though she had just prepared the greatest tamales in the world. Maybe she was watching Elvis in “Viva Tijauna.” Aye chee waa waa y’all.
This week’s Quick Quiz: When was the last movie directed or produced by Clint Eastwood that had a laugh in it? My God, he is a master director, but why so many downers? “The Changeling” opened up here in Hollywood two weeks ago to the usual rave Eastwood reviews but enough is enough. Ever since the downer Western, “Unforgiven,” it’s been one downer after another. Brilliant all but could we just get one upbeat film out of him? I lost his address in Carmel but I know everyone in Hollister knows where he lives. Couldn’t you drop by his place for lunch this Sunday and persuade him that what the world needs now is the master’s touch at something light and uplifting, like “Dirty Harry vs. Sarah Palin.”
