Alive in Wonderland

Bob's Big Boy: Reunited and it feels so good

For some reason, most of my fondest memories of being a kid are associated either with food or music. Along with the AM radio,  Bob's Big Boy played a major roll in the first 15 or so years of my life. 

There used to be a Big Boy right down the street from where I grew-up. As a little girl it was a place to go on special occasions or for a special treat to get milk shakes, brownie sundaes, and fried shrimp dinners. 

In High School, Bob's was the meeting spot after concerts, dances, and parties.  We'd hang out in the parking lot, climb on the back of Bob to get our picture taken, and sneak cigarettes from the machine in the lobby. It was THE place to fraternize with your friend over french fries, kind of like Arnold's, but without Leather Tuscadero.

After too long an exile, Bob is back in Orange County and I couldn't wait to bring my kids and Larry (who knew it as Shoney's Big Boy on the East Coast). I ordered usual, which is the same now as when I was an eight-year old, the child's grilled cheese, fries, and a strawberry silver goblet shake.  I'm a little surprised and probably disproportionally happy to report that it was just as good as I remember.  

I don't know why exactly, but watching my daughter enjoy her own shake and kid's chili spaghetti (accompanied by the traditional garlic toast) and then declare it "the .best. spaghetti. ever!" gave me a thrill. Like I knew some sort of pop culture mythos was going to live on.  

Now, here is the big question that has torn Bob's Big Boy enthusiasts apart for decades, pitting traditionalists against progressives: Do you dip your fries in your shake or not?  

Personally, I'm a french fry shake dipper.  I love it. So does my daughter, but the act never fails to produce cringes and shudders from the male side of the table. If you have an opinion, please, by all means, weigh in on the matter. 

I give the return of Bob's Big Boy a big thumbs-up accompanied by a Fonzie-style "Aaayyy."  Now, if only we can get Naugles, Pup-n-Taco, and the lunch counter at Buffum's to come back to OC, then I'd be in retro '70s heaven. 

 We missed you too big guy. We missed you, too.

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Read my story about Bob's Big Boy's strawberry silver goblet shake: 

...and I never cried again. Not really.

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You can go to my Blip.Fm channel to listen to Peaches and Herb's 

Reunited. 

Bustin' Down the Door and The Surfer's Code: Awesome, even if you don't surf

This post is mostly about surfing.  I don't surf and never have, but I grew up in Huntington Beach immersed in the sport and attitude of surfing.  But, when Shaun Tomson, one of the greatest surfers who ever paddled out to catch a wave, walked into our cafe in Carpenteria 8 years ago, I didn't know who he was. 

Shaun and his wife Carla were friendly, gracious, loyal customers.  They would come in with their son, Mathew, sometimes and I would watch them sharing a meal and talking warmly to each other.  I was so saddened when I heard the news of their son's tragic death.  

I mean, really devastated.  

During the time we knew the Tomsons Larry and I were trying desperately to get pregnant, but with no success.  If you've ever struggled with infertility you know, it's pretty much all you can think about.  Babies are flippin' everywhere. Every women you see is pregnant.  Every family you lay eyes on is happy and contented.  

To me, the picture of their family, and especially Carla's tenderness toward her son, were inspiration to keep trying.  She would say things to me like "You're going to be a great mom" or give me the thumbs up when I would hold a customer's baby.  It was what I needed at that time in my life. It's not like we were all chummy or anything-- just casual acquaintances. But, their family was important to me in a way they probably didn't even know.

You know how life is, once I got pregnant (finally) and we moved back to Orange County, I didn't really think about them much...until I heard about Mathew.  I sent Carla a card, but I don't know if she ever received it, but I hope she did. 

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The other night Larry and I watched "Busting Down The Door," a surf documentary about how Shaun Tomson, Wayne "Rabbit" Bartholomew, and Mark Richards ignited a surf movement in the mid-'70s that has made surfing the professional sport it is today.  Even if you don't surf and know nothing about it, I would still recommend seeing it.    ( Watch the trailer here)  

The love these guys have for surfing, the tenacity they showed as young men pursuing their passion, and the hardships they have overcome, makes this documentary powerful with some intensely personal moments.  

Yes, it does have some pretty bitchin' surf sequences that will make you elbow the person next to you a million times to say, "Did you see that?"  It also will give you a heavy dose of retro '70s surf culture: Lighting Bolt surfboards and puka shells, that sort of thing.

In the last scene of the movie they show the three of them today--Shaun, Rabbit and MR--walking out to surf together again.  As they each ride a wave they cut seamlessly to video of them riding back in the '70s--chills, you'll get chills watching it.  

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This is The Surfer's Code, written by Shaun Tomson.  Now that you know a little of his story, you'll see it is meaningful to anyone, not just a surfer.

Surfer's Code:

I will never turn my back on the ocean

I will always paddle back out

I will take the drop with commitment

I will know that there will always be another wave

I will realize that all surfers are joined by one ocean

I will paddle around the impact zone

I will never fight a rip tide

I will watch out for other surfers after a big set

I will pass on my stoke to a non-surfer

I will ride, and not paddle in to shore

I will catch a wave every day, even in my mind

I will honor the sport of kings

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Leonard Cohen's "Who by Fire"

 plays at the beginning of "Bustin' Down The Door."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Wendy is still a total babe and she's on Facebook

You might remember this I posted from my seventh-grade yearbook.  It's an inscription from James Cox, but with all the passing along of books from person to person he lost track of whose book he was writing in and wrote a note to Wendy in mine.  

He then realized his mistake and did what any seventh grade boy would do, crossed out her name and write mine...and then take out that whole "I think you're a total babe" part, too.  Just to keep it honest.  

Well, I found Wendy on FaceBook and she is still a total babe.

It's okay, I wasn't a total babe until eighth grade...

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More nonsense from Jr. High: 

"Stay Sweet and other well wishes from Jr. High"

"These were the best of times"

I was just thinking about the movie Ice Castles and Robby Benson

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the movie Ice Castles and Robby Benson.   I was trying to tell my husband about how much this movie touched little 12-year-old me. 

I told him about how Robby Benson really loved his girlfriend and how he taught her how to skate again after she went blind.  And...and, then the last scene, where she skates perfectly (blind) and everyone loves her and throws flower on the ice.  Don't you remember?  Then she trips on the flowers and everyone goes dead silent and Robby walks out on to the ice where she's slumped down in a pitiful ball and, and, and he says...well, just watch...

 

"We forgot about the flowers." *sigh* 

That became a standard line for me when I worked in video production in San Francisco. I breathlessly told every crew I worked with the play by play of the movie. So when they would eventually heard me say, "We forgot about the flowers" when something happened we weren't prepared for--not enough light for the shot, talent stuck in traffic, or no change for the bridge toll--they knew what I was talking about.  

When I left my job there, the crew gave me flowers and the card read, "We didn't forget about the flowers." So clever, no? 

One more note about Robby Benson. I totally bought into all his weepy-eyed staring and girlie good looks.  He was my first movie crush. I eventually kicked him to the curb for the French boy in "A little Romance." Then I heartlessly dumped HIM after seeing Matt Dillon in Rumble Fish.  Young girls can be so fickle.  

Now, I've covered my young movie crushes and my '70s TV crushes.  Next?Literary crushes: Colonel Brandon would make the top five.