booboobabies

My Mother lived on Haskell Ave in Van Nuys for many years and passed away on Oct. 27, 2009. Mom & I did not always have a good relationship because Mama would not allow me or my immediate family to visit. (Although Mama was always very happy to talk to me on the phone.) Every time I had a trip planned to California, Mama would give me a lame excuse as to why I should not see her.

After Mama died, my husband & I went out there to clean out her apartment. Not only was the apartment total squalor, but I was horrified by the neighborhood. Graffiti was everywhere – notably on trucks parked on the street, and all over the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant right down the street from Mama’s place. I saw concertina wire on the roof of a house within a block of Mom’s apartment.

After the first day of cleaning Mama’s place, we stayed in a Comfort Inn on Sepulveda Blvd. not far away. This was not the best night I’ve ever had in a motel. A sign in the parking lot said “No drugs. No drug dealing.” In the lobby, a sign was posted saying “No prostitution or pandering. No visitors allowed in rooms.” The next day, I told a friend of my Mother’s about it, and she said “Sepulveda has always had a lot of prostitutes.” I cashed some travellers checks at a Bank of America on Sepulveda, & it felt like a detention center – armed guards inside & outside the bank and the tellers were surrounded by bulletproof glass.

Had I known how run down Mother’s neighborhood was, I would have begged her to move! Whether or not Mama would have listened to me is anyone’s guess – the woman was very stubborn. I miss Mama a lot, but I’m sure she’s in a better place now. Any place is better than her old area in Van Nuys!

My Grandparents had a farm in Gilman, Wisconsin, which is very close to the Chequamegon Forest. When I was growing up in Illinois, I visited them once or twice a year. Even as a child, I could see that it was a whole different world than the city I lived in (Rockford, Illinois).

I have not been there since 1992. My Grandparents have both passed on, and most of my other relatives have moved away. The farm was sold in 1988. I had kind of forgotten about Northern Wisconsin until recently when I read the book “The Story of Edgar Sawtelle”. This story brought back so many memories of things that I had forgotten – I felt as if I had gone back in time! I highly recommend the book to anyone interested in Northern Wisconsin. Besides the accurate descriptions of the Chequamegon area, the story itself is excellent. (I won’t spoil it for you by giving away details – you will have to read it for yourself!)

My father is a hard-core Republican and a huge Reagan admirer. I love Dad, but do not share his politics. So I wasn’t impressed by this place when he dragged me there in 1982.

Not only was I not into Reagan’s politics, but the house itself is no big deal. If you’ve been anywhere in the Midwest, you’ve seen this house. It’s an older structure, like so many buildings in that part of the country are. This is not exactly the Playboy Mansion I’m talking about here.

The place is so undistinguished that I had totally forgotten about it until a few days ago. Last Saturday (Feb. 16, 2008) I waited in line for four hours to get into Lubbock High School to see former President Clinton. While I was in line, I visited with some people about other politicians we wanted to see. One of them was a 10-year-old girl who wanted to see Ronald Reagan. I informed her that Reagan died a few years ago, but maybe she would see him in heaven. When I told her that I had seen Reagan’s boyhood home, she gushed and wished that she could see it too. She may enjoy visiting the place, but I don’t think most of you would.

I’m not a huge Elvis fan, but I am curious about this place. I would definitely avoid it during August when all the imitators visit, but any other time of year would be fine with me.

I’m curious if any of the rumors are true. The infamous stories about the Mansion may just be a lot of bull, but it would be interesting to investigate. The hell of it is, a person could go there and see all sorts of wild things but probably would have to sign something saying that he or she wouldn’t talk about it – or risk getting sued. I know that Playboy employs a ton of lawyers, which is probably why we seldom (if ever) hear about this place in the tabloids.

I know very little about my Mother’s Dad’s side of the family. All I know is that the family originally were fishermen in Normandy, France, then went to Canada, and then some of them moved on to Wisconsin sometime around 1850. I’d love to see where they originally came from in Normandy. Information about the place is hard to find. I’ve googled on “Normandy”, and most of what I came up with was about battle sites in WWII.

My husband is half Guamian, and half Mexican. My father-in-law grew up in Guam, and left there when he was 18 to join the Navy. (Today, he lives in California.)

I’m just curious about the island, and I think it would be awesome for my kids to go there and see where some of their family tree comes from. But I would have to take this trip on my own, or with my immediate family only. NOT with my father-in-law, who happens to be the most anal-retentive person I know! I would not want to go across the street with him, let alone halfway around the world.

I grew up in Northern Illinois, but spent a lot of time in Wisconsin as a kid, because my Grandparents lived there. My Grandparents passed on many years ago, but my Dad still lives right outside Rockford, Illinois.

I have lived in Texas for the past 14 years, and go home to visit about once every 3 or 4 years. The last time I was there was in July, 2005 for my son’s baptism.

These days, the most bizarre thing to me about being in the Wisconsin/Northern Illinois area is the accent. Never mind that I grew up talking like that (and still do when I get mad, according to my husband), it sounds really bizarre to my ears after 14 years in West Texas! Back when I was single, recently departed from Illinois, and living in California, I’d heard guys talking about my “accent”, and not understanding what in the hell they meant. Now I know exactly what they were talking about. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad sounding dialect. It just is something that sounds odd to me now, and it never used to. It’s funny how things change over the years.

I visited House On the Rock many years ago with my eighth-grade art class. From what I hear, it’s just as awesome today as it was back then. I want to go there again!

Last week, my husband saw this place featured on a program on the Food Network. He asked me if I remembered it, and I said “Yes, there were a lot of rumors about hookers hanging around there.” He gave me a funny look and said “Thanks a lot – I just told our daughter that I used to go there all the time!”.

In all fairness to my husband and this place, I used to stop there on my way home to San Bernardino after visiting LA. For the longest time, I had no clue about its reputation. I never saw anyone there who looked like a prostitute. But then, I never stopped there after 8 in the evening. And admittedly, I have no clue how to look for a hooker -