A classy class reunion at Paine’s
When I was a kid, bikers would sleep on lawns all up and down
Fifth Street. There would always be a little line in front of our
home as mom would make coffee for all. But it was the line down the
street that was the longest and she wasn’t giving anything away.
Aye chee waa waa.
A classy class reunion at Paine’s
When I was a kid, bikers would sleep on lawns all up and down Fifth Street. There would always be a little line in front of our home as mom would make coffee for all. But it was the line down the street that was the longest and she wasn’t giving anything away. Aye chee waa waa.
There are few giants left among us, but when one leaves this earth we should all meet at Johnny’s Bar and Grill and raise a glass to Harvey Nyland who got sheriffing just right, but more importantly he got being a human being just right.
Received our official invite to our 50th anniversary Hollister High class reunion. Great job on the brochure capturing the giant Shoe that dominates the cover of our 1958 yearbook. Why a shoe? Because that was the year shoes were introduced to Hollister. The first three years of playing football for Hollister High we had no shoes but we had cleats. Cleats that we tied to our feet and boy did that ever smart.
The 50th reunion will be at Paine’s August 23rd where a prime rib, salmon or chicken picatta dinner will set everyone back $50 except for me as I was student body president. That is the tradition isn’t it? But I think the reunion committee should have told Paine’s it was our 10th anniversary. Would we have gotten the dinner for $10? For the answer to that and any other questions you have, call Gordon Machado at 831-637-5051. While you have Gordon on the phone ask him why he and I were chosen football co-captains against the dreaded Gonzales High.
Can’t stand Rosie O’Donnell but wow can she play “Password.” I love the fact that the television executives here in Hollywood haven’t a bit of original thought between them and revive old quiz shows that I loved to watch as a kid on the old Mad Man Muntz 12-inch black and white television with three semi-Fuzzy channels for our viewing pleasure.
When I left Hollister for Hollywood six years ago Art Cantu wrote on my going away T-shirt with my mug on it that he was going to be district attorney despite me endorsing his rival. He lost again in the last election but with him taking on the high-profile case defending Michael Rodrigues the former deputy sheriff who is in hot do do Cantu is in a win-win situation. Art has more energy than any fifteen lawyers in Hollister and will give all his kilowatts which is something most local lawyers were not willing to give Rodrigues whose case was tried in the Hollister Free Lance. At least now Michael will be getting as fair a trial as possible. If Cantu is smarter than I think he is, he will use Michael’s family, one of the truly most wonderful families I have ever met. His father Ron was the most respected supervisor to ever hold that seat. We rented our first little home from Michael’s grandparent’s home on Prune Street in 1960. It was like new with a new stove, refrigerator, washer and dryer. We loved it although I think Michael’s grandparents were taking advantage of us…they charged us $35 a month rent. Aye chee waa waa.
I love movies, I love 3D. The only way to see “Journey to the center of the Earth” is in 3D.
Speaking of movies I enjoy Hollister columnist Marty Richman’s take on downtown Hollister wondering what the answer is to so many for rent, for lease and now available signs on so many empty business buildings. The answer is exactly the same answer I wrote over 20 years ago in my column over and over again. Downtown Hollister needs the foot traffic that a multi-plex theater provides. Most small towns like Hollister either generate foot traffic with a multi-screen theater or open yet another bar. Guess what Hollister keeps doing? Let’s go downtown and catch a movie and do a little shopping and grab a bite to eat afterwards…or…Let’s go downtown and sit at a bar and get drunk. Hollister the city that knows the answer but never gets past the question.
And to you bikers who read paragraph one and still are reading don’t waste any more gas cruising Fifth Street for that long line, forget about it. She retired last year at the age of 88 in disgust as she lost out being listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the world’s oldest living hooker to Joan Rivers. Aye chee waa waa.
