I live in Central Vallejo, I guess. West of the freeway and quite near Tuolumne. The neighborhoods here are quiet and tree lined with an almost systematic rollup of the sidewalks every evening around 7. As far as I can tell, Vallejo is still home to the working family. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers tend to close our drapes and turn out the lights closer to dinnertime than midnight. The sound of a car traveling down the street at 9 p.m. gets me up to poke my nose at the window wondering what shenanigans may be happening. A backfire on the freeway Continue reading “DON’T SKIP SCOTTY’S”
It was cold, and foggy with a bit of a drizzle, and even though my hens had taken to Daylight Savings Time better than I have, they are laying fresh eggs again and homemade omelets are the best, I opted instead to go out for breakfast. Now I must confess to being S.A.D. during the winter months. (Seasonal Affect Disorder.) During the winter I am less-than-happy, listless and sometimes even down right grumpy. But once that button called Spring has been punched my mood pegs the opposite side of the meter and I am ready to get out of the house.
That’s how it was this morning. I was hungry and wanted both to get out of the house and have a good breakfast. Continue reading “Way Down Yonder”
I moved to Vallejo in the summer of 2002. This is not to say that this is my first time here. My father, just a teenager in the early 40’s, moved here with his mother, my grandmother, and his brother during the early part of the war. Her sister, my father’s aunt, who had moved here the year before, convinced her sister to close up shop, pack up the boys and ‘Go West.’ “There are jobs to be had on Mare Island,” she said, “good jobs.” My father’s father, my grandfather, was a late draftee in the war and came to Vallejo later, sometime in 1946.
The house where I now live, and happily call home, is where my father’s aunt resided since 1946. The house built in 1942, Continue reading “The Beginning of the V-Town Social Club”