Anna Cawthon Chamberlin -- Miss Pacific Beach '81 when I ran the pageant.  She's stayed in touch all these years.

Jeff Dalrymple -- Somewhere in the middle of June 1966 I graduated from San Diego State College and moved to College Village Apartments and quickly made a new friend in Jeff.  We moved to Mission Beach in September 1967, where we stayed until June of 1970.

Tom LaShell -- We met on October 4th, we're just not sure what year.  Possibly 1968.  We were both standing in front of my apartment on the boardwalk in Mission Beach watching the sunset.  "A heck of a way to spend your birthday," I muttered.  "How'd you know it was my birthday," he replied.  Like Old West gunfighters we went for our wallets.  He's older.  Born in 1942

Marilyn MacNair -- Marilyn and I met at Bustamante's Restaurant in Pacific Beach around 1990.  She is an interior designer who made all the Chart Houses look lovely. 

The Wildings

Johnnie -- Johnnie's mom Mary was the secretary for the Pacific Beach Town Council while I was president.  I was privileged to sort of be adopted by her and "Doc" and their eight children. 

Joe -- Johnnie's "little" brother, Joe is 6' 5" -- two inches taller than John -- and maybe 15 months younger.

Annelise -- "Annie" is the oldest of Johnnie and Kate Bailey Wilding's three children.  Andrew and Jillian complete the Trifecta.

Susan -- Joe's wife (and my accountant)

HOW WAS YOUR 2024?  I'm back in a wheelchair after 70 years.  That's Mom and I and sister Vicki in front of our house in Normal Heights around 1952 and Tom LaShell, Me, and Marilyn MacNair at my "new place" -- Novellus Clairemont -- an assisted living facility.  Details of my undoing are revealed  below.

   

My cousin Candace Gress from the Fry side of the family, with her friend Becky, visited "La Casa Frito" ("the Fry house") for the first time on December 5, 2023.  She lives in Hemet.  Candace was born to my Dad’s sister Mabel and immediately put up for adoption.  It was only in recent years she was able to find her birth mother and relatives.  That's Candy and I on the left, and La Casa Frito, with my neighbor's 1956 Nash Rambler Cross Country station wagon parked in front.

Speaking of cousins, I got to thinking about my late cousin Thomas Schaeffer, son of my mother’s brother Tom.  He and older sister Kim would travel down from Pacific Grove and visit us on occasion.  A younger Thomas was terrified of the ocean and it took a while to find out why.  Turned out he  had heard of people drowning because of the undertow, which he thought was an animal -- an Under Toad.  Pictured above are sister Vicki, Thomas, and Kim in front of our Alexia Place home around 1960.  Vicki still lives in the house.

Here's another Golden Oldie.  That's me standing by my '56 Chevy in front of the family home -- maybe 1965.  You can probably spot the cool Pep Boys "Mickey Mouse" add-on white sidewalls.

Johnnie Wilding turned 67 on December 20th -- and apparently lost the ability to parallel park.  I watched him struggle for quite awhile across the street.  Turns out his new truck’s side sensor thought a curbside bush was an old lady and shut off the ignition a couple of times. He ended up parking two feet from the curb.

A surprise visit on Christmas Day from my nephew Aaron Cathcart brightened my day.  He expressed interest in the machine-gun cartridge that has perched on my bookcase for many years, which I hoped wasn't live ammunition.  He twisted off the tip and discovered that the cartridge had been converted into a lighter, which would explain the matching candlestick holder.  Both items were mounted on the cut-off bottoms of 40mm anti-aircraft shells. My father was a Machinist’s Mate in the Navy, which could explain everything.

Jeff Dalrymple wanted to do a little research before visiting a sports doctor at Kaiser that he'd been referred to.  He knew the doctor was Asian and was pretty sure his last name was Do.  Turns out he IS Asian, and he’s  a Doctor of Osteopathy -- D.O. His last name is not Do.

The above-mentioned cousin Candace went in for an Upper GI on January 23rd.  The official name for the procedure, I learned, is Esophagogastroduodenoscopy.  I’m pretty sure every thing came out OK.

CAT milk?  Where does that even come from?  Or is it only for felines.  Johnnie Wilding called home to fact check his To Do List.  Turns out Kate wanted Oat Milk.

The toes on Tom LaShell’s left foot turned black.  A week at Mercy Hospital and countless tests couldn’t find the problem, so the experts sent him home on a regimen of Baby Aspirin.  His doctor gave him a “Thumbs Up” after a subsequent examination, noting the digits had regenerated “like a Starfish.”  I think we're supposed to call them "Sea Stars" now.

I knew Johnnie Wilding was a bit of a vexillophile (one who is a general admirer of flags) so I wasn't surprised when he backed into my front yard with his truck sporting Italian flags.  Oh, wait, it was Saint Patrick’s Day.  Maybe they were Irish flags.  That’s brother Joe and his trusty sidekick Bella in the photo above.

A host of perky waitresses serve the gang on Sunday mornings at the Truck Stop.  “If I was 60 years younger,” Tom LaShell opined, “They STILL wouldn’t give me the Time of Day.”  I know what he's saying.  I’ve gone from “Get away from me you, Pencil-Necked Geek,” to “Get away from me, you Dirty Old Man.”

Guy relationships are different than gal relationships.  Johnnie Wilding was recalling the time in Mexico when the pointy end of a surfboard left a bloody gash in his forehead. Did his friends come to his aid?  Of course -- but only after yelling “Shark!” at the top of their lungs.

Annelise Wilding and Chris Jurek were married on July 13th at the Catamaran Hotel and Resort in Pacific Beach.  The senior Wildings have a special fondness for the Catamaran.  They grew up nearby and, as teenagers, were chased from the private swimming pool on many occasions.

  

One of these is a picture of Tom LaShell after taking a spill in Coronado on Bastille Day.  Had he been drinking?  Well, maybe.

August 4th started like every other Sunday. Tom picked me up for breakfast at the Truck Stop, where we would be joined by Jeff, Johnnie and Ben Versteeg. Tom and I were early and headed in when they opened the door at 8.  I deftly dodged the hostess stand and woke up sitting in a booth with a giant goose egg on my head — and an obviously broken right collarbone.  The professionals at the Sharp Emergency Room reminded me of the pit crew at Daytona.  When the dust settled a doctor with a clipboard appeared and said, “Yup, you broke your clavicle — and six ribs.  Take it easy for a while.  I’ll prescribe some pain killers.”

August 11th started like every other Monday.  Joe and Johnnie showed up and we ate breakfast burritos made fresh by Johnnie.  I experienced a shortness of breath, the boys called 911, and I was soon headed up the I-5 freeway to Scripps Memorial Hospital Emergency Room.  (“It’s closer than Sharp,” said the EMT).  Once again I was set upon by the pit crew from Daytona.  They punched a hole in my right side, inserted a tube, and re-inflated my right lung.  It felt great to breathe again. Then the doctor with the clipboard showed up.  “Well, your lung function is good", he said, "but we found some blood clots.  We can operate, or you can go on blood thinners.” I opted for the blood thinners.  "Oh," he noted, “you’ve also got fractured ribs, a broken clavicle, and a chipped scapula. We're gonna send you upstairs and keep you for a while."

A week later an ambulance transported me across the freeway and down the hill to The Cove at La Jolla, a "post-acute care center" on Fay Avenue, next door to La Jolla High School.  I must have made an impression on the EMTs, because the next day I was sitting in the lobby when they rolled in with a new patient.  Each of them greeted me by name as they passed by.  The good news at The Cove was that I got plenty of visits from Johnnie Wilding, who was remodeling a condo at the Seville high rise, visible from my window. 

Another frequent visitor was Shawn Dee Hartless, my neighbor on Haines Street who, prior to my accident, had been bringing me a home-cooked hot meal each Sunday evening.  When it became apparent that I wasn't going home again, she helped me choose an assisted-living facility, took a tour of Novellus, gave it her approval, picked out a good room for me, and went shopping for linens and stuff.  I made the move on September 10th.  The food is fabulous and the care-givers are wonderful. 

I specifically asked that there not be any festivities on my October 4th birthday -- and I got my wish.  Good friends drifted in and out, while  Johnnie Wilding and Anna Chamberlin joined me in the dining room for lunch.  Johnnie's sweet mother Mary presented the above award to me on my birthday in 1985 at a crowded Pacific Beach Town Council meeting.  The assembled folks agreed the certificate was well-deserved and a long time coming.

On October 27th I had a zoom conference with my Primary Care Physician, Dr Adam Sacks.  “Wow,” he said, “You really DID it to yourself -- fractured ribs, a broken collarbone, chipped scapula, collapsed lung, and blood clots.  Did you know you also suffered compression fractures of your lumbar and thoracic vertebrae?”  Well, no I didn’t.  Maybe that’s why I’m unable to walk.  “Well, you LOOK really good,” he concluded.  “I know,” I replied, “it’s my radiant personality.”

Tom wrestled me into his car on November 7th for a pulmonary consult with Natasha Shahravesh, a Nurse Practitioner at Sharp.  I guess my lungs are back to normal.  The session might have gone better if Natasha hadn't asked if Tom was my son. (see Bastille Day photo above and Cast of Characters birthdays below)

Anna Chamberlin came to visit at lunchtime a couple of days before Thanksgiving and pushed me in my wheelchair to the Dining Room.  Roy Knowles joined us to show Anna the binder of clippings I got out of the Union-Tribune online archives that featured Roy during his career as a San Diego Fireman.  One of them showed Roy's home address in Spring Valley, which got a shriek out of Anna.  Roy lived at 5556 Kenwood Drive.  Anna's family lived at 5546 Kenwood Drive.  Anna wasn't born yet, but they were able to talk about some of the folks in the neighborhood.

Caramba! We got a new Maria here at Novellus.  I guess they were running low. Maria Uno is a server in the dining room.  She says she's worked here for 23 years, but she only looks to be around 30.  Maria Dos picks up my laundry at 7 AM sharp each Monday.  Maria Tres arrives in my room Monday afternoon with a vacuum cleaner and a dust cloth.  Maria Cuatro -- the newest Maria -- is charged with locating "clients" and making sure they get their daily medications.  She's not to be confused with Mary, who's also responsible for distributing pills.

"Brew 102" was a heavily-advertised beer in my youth.  I snagged this image off the internet and sent it up to North Shores Printery, where Jeremy made me a nice copy on matte photo paper. Johnnie Wilding mounted it on very thin plywood and stuck it to my door.  You'll see it if you come visit.  I'm in Room 102.

Susan Wilding took this shot December 15th.  Christmas lights at the Haines Street house for the first time in 52 years.  All that needed to happen was for me to move out.

John Wilding turned 68 on January 20th
Leif Arneson gave him a sign.

Don't you hate it when a contractor starts a job then disappears?  The bookcase I ordered on Amazon said "some assembly required".  Johnnie Wilding pulled all the pieces out of the box, then left to get "the right tools".  He did come back -- but without the tools.  I guess that happens when you turn 68.  Won't be long before the assorted pieces look like the picture above.

Anna joined me for the Christmas buffet luncheon here at Novella and wanted her picture taken with Santa

Then she took this nice head shot. 
Holy Crap! When did my
eyebrows turn white?



My Life In Pictures

My Family Scrapbook




See you next year --