SoCal Bill McDonald – Page 2 – Irrational exuberance in Southern California

Merry Christmas and Hanukkah 2022 and Happy New Year 2023

Writing this in the midst of reports of a “tripledemic” of COVID, flu, and RSV, it feels as if we’re caught in some kind of warp — things are getting better, things are getting worse . . . . One columnist wrote it seems like Middle Ages redux.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, though. And there is still good reason to share good tidings and cheer. Also to share news of important loss.

Larry and an egret, Oceanside Pier, during the 2020 visit by the Kenahs.

The most significant event of 2022 for me and many others was the unexpected death in June of close friend Larry Kenah. I’d known Larry since early years at Boston College, nearly 60 years. In recent years, Larry sent me a note on St. Patrick’s Day, thanking me for hosting a party that holiday in our senior year at our Brookline apartment. It was then and there he met Marcy McPhee, soon thereafter his bride and partner over the next 50+ years. Marcy, Larry, and I were frequent golf and BC football game companions when I lived in Greater Boston and, since my relocation to North San Diego in 2012, their home was my home away from home on my annual visits East. Rest in peace, Larry.

Our “family photo” is even more discombobulated than usual this year. Recent illnesses in my household, COVID and otherwise, just made the process difficult. Photos of the Andersons, for example, are from New Hampshire, on their trip in the fall.

Julia and Sam, as well as Dillon, are enjoying their second winter in Ypsilanti, Mich. I visited them in late August, the first time I had been with Julia in three years. Dillon has his own apartment close by and is working at the National Center for Manufacturing Sciences in neighboring Ann Arbor.

In late November, I had what I believed to be a very small basal cell skin cancer removed from my forehead. It wasn’t small. The process left a rather large wound, requiring a bandage taking up half of my forehead. Not photogenic, so my photo in the composite is from my time as a hole captain again at the Farmers Insurance Open in January. The marshal who took the photo called it “Billy and the Blimp.”

The summer 2022 issue of Boston College Magazine contained a little feature about an old grad, the magazine’s founding editor . . . me. I didn’t know when the magazine was to be distributed. I got congratulation emails from East Coast friends three weeks before the magazine made its way West.

Normally, I join a group of classmates and spouses for a football game or similar event each year. This year, after so many activities curtailed, we sought a solid block of time together in a nice place. Of course, I kept suggesting San Diego. Not surprisingly, we ended up at the other side of the continent and it was grand.

The Captain Isaac Loveland Homestead, c. 1850, Chatham.

We rented what had been a B&B in Chatham, Mass., at the outside crook of the elbow on Cape Cod. Each couple and single had separate bedrooms with bath and it was in a great location for walking to the beach or downtown. In addition to just chillin’ together for several days, we visited the Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge just off the coast to see seals and birds. Some of us took a trip to Provincetown. Also was able to visit other friends who had joined the contingent of those who don’t just visit the Cape, they live on it. You can see much more here.

Does anything say “New England” better than this Chatham scene?

Returning to Boston, I caught up with several colleagues at BC, family, and friends. Because Avis wanted a certain vehicle back at Logan Airport and that’s where I was returning my vehicle from a suburban location, I was offered this at the same price as an economy model. Had not driven a vehicle that big. It was fun! Lent me a certain panache. Weird, but it had California plates. A gas station attendant in Winchester, Mass., asked, “You didn’t drive that out here, didya?”

Obligatory pets pic, Cinderella and Baxter, with Addy.

Merry Christmas and Hanukkah to you and your family. May 2023 let us be free!

Airbnb-ing

In the last two months, I used Airbnb twice. I had never used it previously. They were for practical reasons, not vacation, and the locations were unconventional or, perhaps in some minds, “funky.”

The first location was seven minutes away from my house. With the Andersons on vacation in New England in mid-October, it seemed the right time to have our house fumigated for termites, as had been suggested by pest control firms. That’s the tenting you see, usually on houses going up for sale. For two days and nights, the house would be inaccessible. This was the view when I left.

I chose a place nearby, but not just for location. The site was described as a mini-farm, with various animals about. I texted the owner when I was about to leave and she replied that I should text her when I arrived at the gate, because the tortoise was out. I wasn’t totally sure I was at the correct location until I saw this.

The owner told me the tortoise, King Tut, was the animal that tried most often to escape, and sometimes was successful. Her phone number was painted on his shell.

Pepper drinking from the fountain outside my door.

When I was introduced to Pepper, I was told she was “the guests’ dog.” She liked to spend time with visitors, the owner said. Indeed, Pepper spent a lot of time sleeping just outside my door and always greeted me when I arrived at the farm.

My residence was at right.

Here’s a gallery of other animals on the property.

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A few weeks later, Anza-Borrego Foundation held only the second bi-monthly board meeting in person, in Borrego Springs, in nearly three years. To reduce my 90-minute commute to the meeting, I rented an Airbnb closer to Borrego Springs, in the Chihuahua Valley of Warner Springs.

Well, the remote location was “closer,” but it only reduced my drive to 60 minutes. This location was also on a mini-farm and the facility was called “The Barn.” I arrived near sunset, driving the last couple of miles on dirt roads.

Here’s an overhead of the location, with the Airbnb at upper right.

And, indeed, it’s a barn.

The upper level is the living space. And the door is pure barn.

The “kitchen” was spare but functional. I had brought a frozen dinner and was to meet folks for breakfast in Borrego Springs, so the kitchen could be minimal.

Once again, I had farm animals for company. Again, I arrived near sunset and was to leave shortly after sunrise, so I spent a little bit of time checking the animals out before nightfall. Here’s a gallery.

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Yes, ostriches.

Also, remote as the site was, more than farm animals are about. Several signs warned renters of potential sources of danger.

Leaving the next morning, I drove several miles almost all downhill before I came to a sign indicating the elevation was 3,000 feet. I guesstimate “The Barn” was at an elevation likely in excess of 4,000 feet. That explains why the morning was so “brisk.”

I found both experiences pleasurable and interesting. I do want to get back to the Chihuahua Valley. The landscape is, to me, magnificent. I hope to take future visitors there, too.

I rated both units 5 stars. Neither was the epitome of luxury and comfort, of course, but that’s not what I wanted anyway. These were relatively inexpensive, comfortable, met all my needs, and provided very interesting experiences.

‘Nixon wins.’ WTF?

On November 7, 1972, only several days more than 50 years ago, I was at the offices of the Beverly (Mass.) Times, where I was an editor, preparing for coverage of the local, state, and national elections taking place that day.

It was just about 8 pm, when nearly all the East Coast polling places would close. Suddenly, I heard the UPI teletype machine a few feet behind me ringing its bells — a “flash!” It was typing out news of major significance and immediacy! Before I even reached the machine, it stopped.

I held up the paper with the flash announcement. “8:01 pm. Nixon wins.” My head said, “Whiskey-tango-foxtrot.” It had been one minute since voting had stopped on the East Coast, most of the rest of the country had one-three hours more to vote . . . and the election’s been decided?

As one who had favored Senator George McGovern, running against incumbent U.S. President Richard Nixon, this was a stunning blow. Of course, just about every pundit had predicted a Nixon win. This, however, had been of stunning proportions. Nixon took 61 percent of the national vote, winning 521 votes in the Electoral College.

McGovern won only one state — the one I was in, Massachusetts. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a sign that had been later erected unofficially on the roadside at the border of Massachusetts and New Hampshire. It read something like, “You are leaving the United States of America. Welcome to Massachusetts.”

The rest of the evening at the newspaper was busy. Most of us were in our twenties and most of us had favored McGovern, so that lent the evening some sadness. We got over it. Nixon? Less than two years later, he resigned from the Presidency in disgrace after being threatened with impeachment over the Watergate scandal.

Trip East — Boston redux and home

I had made a reservation for a rental car months earlier, to be picked up in Acton, Mass. Ed drove me out to the location Monday morning.

From the cars offered online, I had selected a Mazda CX-5 SUV, which is the same model as I have at home. I figured I would know how to operate things. The Avis rep in Acton, however, told me, “We haven’t had a Mazda out here for years.” Okay. I was then informed I had two vehicles on the lot from which to select, because I was returning to Logan Airport and Avis wanted them there. I would not pay extra. One choice was a minivan and the other choice was this.

Of course, I took the Tacoma. I’d never driven a vehicle this big, but I figured it would be fun. And it was. Kinda weird, but it had California plates.

When I was getting gas later in Winchester, the attendant asked, “You didn’t drive that here from California, didya?”

The picture of me and the truck was taken by Nate Kenyon, director of marketing and communications at BC’s Law School, the first BC person I visited that Monday. Later, I met Maureen Raymond outside the Lower Dining Hall, now officially Corcoran Commons. Maureen and I had worked together at the Lynch School and we’re almost “related.” Her daughter and the son of my cousin Kathy are married.

We were joined soon by Taylor Mooney, the liaison at BC for our alumni chapter in San Diego, whom I had only met earlier through Zoom. It didn’t take long for Maureen and Taylor to recognize each other — Maureen had been Taylor’s advisor at the Lynch School.

I later met Mary Ellen Fulton, also a former colleague at the Lynch School, at a bakery in Newton Centre and then headed back to campus to reconnect with Lee Pellegrini, with whom I worked at BC back in the ’70s when we started Boston College Magazine. Lee is still taking great photos for BC.

Jumped in the truck and set out for Plum Island, near the border with New Hampshire, to spend the night at the home of the aforementioned cousin, Kathy. Was a bit tough to get the truck next to her Jeep in the driveway of her small cottage, but did it. Always a joy to catch up with her and her family, and with our ancestors, in photos.

Her location is more coastal than mine and is not at all similar, except maybe for fog. Here’s a view.

At some point, I realized I had not had fried clams yet. The New England way, with “bellies.” And I was in one of the best fried clam regions in the country — the North Shore. On my way back on Tuesday, stopped at the famed “Clam Box” in Ipswich and brought clams back to Winchester for lunch.

Later Tuesday, visited with Tom Burke in West Roxbury and then with Margaret Evans and husband Rob Sternstein in Brookline. (Why didn’t I take any pictures? Isn’t that what phones are for?!)

Wednesday was just prep for my departure later in the afternoon. Smooth transaction returning the rental truck and usual stop at Legal Seafood in the terminal at Logan to pick up some clam chowder.

Long plane ride back to San Diego, especially with the entertainment not working in my row. I had brought a book to read on the trip, but hadn’t started it. I took it out and read the 303-page novel. Still had an hour to go on the flight when I finished.

We took same route by Salton Sea in reverse this time. The lighting just wasn’t as complimentary as on the way out.

But the setting sun gave nice shadowing to the hills just west of San Diego.

Thankful to be home and not on the road. Miss the family and friends there and happy to join friends and family here.

Trip East — Chatham out and about

There’s often local reference to the “Chatham bars.” It’s not the nightlife, but the sandbars offshore. This was the scene on our harbor tour, showing waves breaking white-capped on the bars.

While the Chatham base was very comfortable and relaxing, we also got out to see more of the eastern end of the Cape.

The one excursion in which we all participated was a waterborne tour of Chatham Harbor and Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge.

Lots of sea birds.

And seals! Here’s a brief (30 sec) video.

And boats.

Including big yachts.

Pat, Tom, and I also made an excursion to Provincetown at the northern tip of the eastern portion of the Cape. Enjoyable place, with a certain style.

But first, a stop for oysters on the half shell. (I rushed to consume, and had two before I remembered to take a photo.)

At 252 feet in height, the Pilgrim Monument in Provincetown is the tallest all-granite structure in the U.S.

Then out to enjoy the scene.

Had the chance later to catch up with Cape friends, too.

Lunch on the beach at the Chatham Bars Inn with Karen and classmate Richard Sullivan.

After breakfast at the Cranberry Valley Golf Course with classmate Steve Curran and his wife, Kathy. She took the picture. Steve and I didn’t know each other at BC. We met when we ended up shipmates in the Navy, aboard USS Biddle (DLG-34).

Steve and Kathy dropped me off in “downtown” Chatham for souvenir shopping.

Too soon our idyllic time on the Cape was over. Most of us split up to head home, but I had a few more days in the Boston area. Jackie and Ed were kind enough to bring me to their place in Winchester, northwest of Boston proper. And that’s the next post.

Next: Boston redux and home

Trip East — Chatham base

The main purpose of the trip East this year was to join classmates and friends for a week in a nice place and just enjoy each other’s company and the place around us.

We (particularly the Downeys) chose Chatham, located at the outside edge of the crook of the Cape Cod “elbow.” Again, for those who could benefit from orientation, here’s an overhead of Chatham. The red oval marks the location of the house in which we were staying.

Pictures, of course, do it more justice.

Some of the house had been the c.1850 homestead of Captain Isaac Loveland. Ken and Debbie Hamberg, Ed Hattauer and Jackie Hewitt, and I each took one of the three rooms in the “stables” (below and just out of the picture above to the right).

This was my “stall.”

Inside of the main house wasn’t too shabby either. Here’s the kitchen.

Seven bedrooms, each with bath, plus a half-bath.

Here’s a gallery of photos of the interior of the main house.

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We also spent a lot of time outside, often for dinner. A gallery of the outside space.

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At one point, while some of us were sitting outside, we had visitors.

This was at our last dinner at the house.

L-R: Ken Hamberg, Jackie Hewitt, Ed Hattauer, Pat Sugrue, Shelia Downey, Dan Downey, Debbie Hamberg, Tom Sugrue, and me. Marcy Kenah had left for home.

That dinner featured my annual martini with Tom. This year, purple!

Among our meals, of course, was lobster, in both whole and roll forms. This was my lobster roll.

We got out and did some things, too. That’s in the next post.

Next: Chatham out and about

Trip East — West Dennis

The day after the BC game, I joined Pat and Tom Sugrue on their way to Cape Cod. We were all due to gather in Chatham Monday afternoon, but Pat and Tom were to meet friends that Sunday and I was going to visit Susan and Reid Oslin.

After visiting with David Gay and his wife in Bourne, the Sugrues brought me to the Oslins’ home in West Dennis.

For those who could use some orientation, here’s a satellite view of the Cape. West Dennis is just left of Dennis Port on the southern edge.

Before going to the West Dennis Yacht Club that evening, we took a short walk around the area. West Dennis is marked by its interaction with the Atlantic.

The “Dennis fingers,” protrusions of land. were constructed by the developer of this part of the community.

I was glad I was with residents of West Dennis, because I might have gotten confused by some of the street signs in the neighborhood.

The occasion for a visit to the Yacht Club was . . . fireworks! You know, the Labor Day fireworks. ??? Seems fireworks intended for the 4th of July were never expended because of COVID regulations. Here’s a brief video of fireworks, Labor Day-style. (There’s an error in the title. It should read “West Dennis Yacht Club.”)

Next: Chatham Base

Trip East — BC

In late August, I started a two-week trip “back East.” Caught a BC game, enjoyed a week on the Cape with good friends, and finished with family and friends in the Boston area.

Two interesting views on the way to Boston. First, soon after departing San Diego, we flew just north of the Salton Sea. This was the first time I’d seen it from this perspective. Brilliantly blue, this view belied its troubled state.

Later, we flew over Chicago.

East of Chicago, we went over two distinctive and storied rivers, the Quabbin Reservoir, and took an unusual route into Boston. My usual flight is a red-eye, so this was a nice opportunity to see things I usually didn’t.

Quabbin Reservoir, central Massachusetts

Our route to Boston included flying directly over Logan Airport, so we had this uncommon-to-me view of the city. The red rectangle in the right-hand portion of the photo marks the BC campus.

Visiting with BC classmates, we (at least the guy portion) attended the opening football game on Labor Day weekend against Rutgers.

Here is a brief video of the BC band as it marched through tailgate land to Alumni Stadium.

Tailgating near Gate A were these Golden Eagles.

All members of the Class of 1968, L-R: Ken Hamberg, Ed Hattauer, Tom Sugrue, Dan Downey, Ken Higgins, and yours truly.

Here is a brief video of the team entering the stadium.

Most of us had high hopes for the Eagles this season. Those hopes were slightly dampened by the 22-21 loss to Rutgers in this game and then steadily drowned in subsequent games.

But . . . as always . . . go Eagles!

Next: West Dennis

Paris

We very likely made our way to Paris by this date in 1972. There was not that much to keep us in Nice. And Paris was our last stop before home!

Kevin recalls it was an overnight train, which seems logical. The distance is about 427 miles and would have taken almost eight hours, which would have allowed us to use the train as our “hotel,” as we did on occasions before. Only our Copenhagen-to-Munich trip had been longer.

We hit the major attractions in Paris — Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, Tuileries Garden, Versailles, Les Invalides, Notre Dame, Arc de Triomphe. There will be photos from or of most of them in this post, but I have not located slides from the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, or Versailles. I remember some of them clearly and will post them when I find them among my disarrayed belongings.

The symbol of Paris is the Eiffel Tower, the 1,083-foot-high wrought-iron lattice tower that opened in 1889 for the World’s Fair that year. It opened only two years and two months after construction started. It was originally intended to be only a temporary exhibit, and was retained essentially because of its value as a radiotelegraph tower. Now, it welcomes more visitors each year than any other monument that charges a fee in the world.

You could get to the first and second levels of the tower by elevator and stairs. Not sure from which level I took this photo of Paris.

The tower is also bracketed by fountains and gardens. To the northwest, on the other side of the River Seine, are the Trocadero Gardens and fountains, backed by the Palais de Chaillot.

Here’s a photo from the reverse angle and ground-level.

The dome at rear left in the above photo is the Dome des Invalides, the tallest church building in Paris. The dome is a prominent feature of Les Invalides, a complex of buildings, including museums and monuments, all related to the military history of France.

Among the many notable French military figures who are entombed in the complex is the one — Napoleon Bonaparte.

The main hall of the church, Saint-Louis-des-Invalides Cathedral, is lined with battle flags, representing institutions and countries with which France has fought.

The Arc de Triomphe, of course, is also military-related. Its construction was completed in 1836 and it is to honor those who fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. Names of battles and generals are inscribed on inner and outer walls. It sits at the western end of the Champs-Élysée.

At the base of the monument is the tomb of France’s unknown soldier from World War I.

Formally the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, Notre-Dame is a medieval Catholic church on the Île de la Cité, an island in the River Seine. Construction started in 1163 and was completed in 1345. It’s considered one of the finest examples of French gothic architecture. And it has no connection at all to the midwestern institution that bears a similar name.

The cathedral has been closed since April 2019, when a fire destroyed the roof and spire. The basic structure remained intact, however, and the church is being restored.

Kevin points out that we also visited Le Drugstore, a popular boutique and restaurant located near the Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Élysée. Researching for this post, I discovered that only three months after we did so, a fire gutted the building in which it was located. A newer restaurant with the same name is there now.

We also had a culinary experience in Paris that seemed entirely apropos, Kevin reminded me. Each of us for the first time consumed escargot. We split an order of a dozen, he said, daring each other to eat them. I don’t remember my reaction, but I have eaten escargot whenever I’ve had the opportunity since. Love it. Cool that first time was in Paris.

Here are a couple of more photos of the Eiffel Tower, one with a young Americain in it.

I’m guessing the photo below is of the Champs-Élysée because I don’t why I would have taken the photo otherwise. (Kevin confirms it is the Champs-Élysée.)

And, finally, a photo of a restaurant near our hotel, I would guess, with an interesting combination of cuisines.

Love the classic Citroën 2CV at left.

I remember that our flight back to Boston was on Air France. I think I recall good food.

This experience was definitely a bucket list kind of thing. Kevin and Debra have made many trips back to Europe. My only subsequent trip to Europe was 47 years after this one, when I and my younger daughter, Julia, visited Berlin and Lithuania. And that’s another story, which, if interested, starts here.

Nice/Monaco

A sunny, rocky beach in the South of France.

Nice (Neese) is nice. I’m pretty sure, however, that our target destination in the south of France was Monaco.

We had pulled into the Nice train station about 2130 last night, 50 years ago. Secured a room at the Hotel Normandie. Our initial experience there probably gave us a jaundiced view of the place and its other clientele. According to my journal, the clerk put our suitcases in the lift and noticed some feces on the floor. He turned and told us it wasn’t from a dog.

We walked up to the room.

And now we’re on something of a free-wheeling description of our last few days in Europe 1972. For whatever reason, my journal of that trip ends with arrival in Nice. My guess is that I either misplaced it or just grew tired of doing it.

So this post and the next will complete the series and they will focus on pictures taken and descriptions of the places/activities in them. And maybe some other memories if they come around again in our heads.

The train trip from Rome took place during the day, but my journal reported we seemed to spend a lot of time in tunnels.

This was the view of Nice from our hotel window.

Most of the time we spent in Nice was most likely at the beach, the picture at the top of the post an example. We didn’t go to sunbath or swim, but to look. We had read, of course, about topless beach-goers in the region, but I don’t recall (and I think I would have) seeing any topless females. Closest was below, but that could have been the same at any US beach.

So we spent most of the time in Monaco, the microstate about 15 miles east of Nice on the coast. Monaco is a sovereign, independent principality. It’s the second smallest independent state in the world, only 499 acres in size. Along the coast, however, it packs a lot in a little space, and did 50 years ago.

For various reasons, Monaco is a playground for the world’s rich. Megayachts fill the harbor and the well-to-do gather. At the “meeting center” shown below, the Harvard Business School was offering a seminar and UCLA was holding its “international dental congress” while we were there.

Royalty in Monaco in 1972 was Prince Rainier III and his American wife, the Hollywood princess, Grace Kelly. We visited the Prince’s Palace, but Rainier and Grace were out.

Horse-drawn carriage entrance to the Prince’s Palace, Monaco.

As you can see from the photos, the day was overcast while we were in Monaco, so Kevin and I donned our tuxes and did our best James Bond impressions at the place owned and operated by the Societé des Bains de Mer de Monaco — the Casino. I don’t remember being especially impressed (though this was after seeing a lot of impressive scenes and structures during the previous three weeks). I also don’t remember playing any games of chance.

I took pictures of the place, but can’t find any presently, so below is a modern view procured online.

Monaco had a population of about 24,000 people in 1972, about a quarter of them French citizens. The UN ranks Monaco these days as the most densely populated state in the world. It was pretty packed back then, too.

We likely spent only a couple of days in Nice/Monaco before heading to Paris, from where we would fly home.

And no, we didn’t have tuxedos.