California lite

At the moment Ann and I are enjoying a short stay in Merced, Calif. Merced about the size of McCook when we lived here in the early '70s left a good impression on our hearts. At the time I had the best job in the world; that of teaching pilots to fly my all time favorite KC-135. Our children started in the excellent grade schools here and learned a little Spanish along with their English. Merced, in the middle of the San Joaquin valley, is a garden spot producing all manner of vegetables, dairy, artichoke, raisins, wine grapes, olives and especially almonds. My next door neighbor raised rice -- two fields -- 800 acres of rice! Another neighbor down at the end of the cul-de-sac raised corn for Frito Lay and his next door neighbor got shot down over North Vietnam, the pilot of a B-66 called "Bat 21." Our neighbor never came back, though his navigator's rescue became the subject of a book and later TV movie "Bat 21." Wonderful memories and good friends native Californians Jim and Diane Glidden still live here.

After writing last week Ann and I returned to help decorate Rose Parade floats a second session. Again we cut dry flowers but then progressed into fluffing and placing picks into the stems of carnations which were in turn inserted into the foam structure of the float. Work on the Farmer's Insurance float was disorganized and far from being finished but much to our surprise it was later awarded a prize for "Best Craftsmanship"! Congratulations to them but I would argue with that result.

It was only twelve hours before the floats were to roll and they all had made a wonderful Cinderella transformation. A final act for us was to place two yellow roses onto the Ronald MacDonald House unit. The scaffolding was being removed and the self propelled units were being fueled when we left to catch some sleep.

There is something special about Nebraskans in California! Somehow they just seem to have an affinity for one another. Decorating at the Rose Parade float we happened to find Jan, mother of McCook's Mike O'Dell. Next day we were privileged to lunch with Dr. Jan and her "Jolly Green Giant" Vietnam era rescue pilot husband Jim. Later in a Bagel Me shop we chanced upon optometry student son of a young lady growing up south of town that we knew as Connie Hinz. Maybe it is the pride in wearing Husker jackets or just the easy going nature of people raised in Southwest Nebraska but connections seem to come easy.

In years past a large picnic was held for McCookites living in Southern Cal and the annual event may continue today. However it would have been easy to find more Nebraskans had we gone to the "Husker Pub" in Fullerton to watch the Bowl Game. That is a loud rowdy fun experience, especially when has-been Husker players in attendance argue with bad calls by the referees or even the coach. Instead we opted to watch both the big game and the Rose Parade on wide screen high definition TV in our son's home. Fun either way.

Leaving the Los Angeles area we chose to drive Highway 101 the 400 or so miles to San Jose. To this old farmer it seems odd to see crops, vegetables and oranges in this case, being harvested in January. This too is the time of year for pruning the mile upon mile of grape vines flowing up the hills up and out of sight from the Pacific Ocean. Fields of fresh produce dominate the vista along roadside in the south. Proceeding north we observed miles of vineyards and orchards, all irrigated, interspersed in almost endless, 15 to 25 acre per pair, pasture now green from recent rains. It is a sharply different vista from the snow covered brown fields and pastures than we are used to seeing at home.

Gilroy bills itself at the "Garlic Capital of the World" and we stopped at fruit stands to purchase the fresh grown pungent bulbs. On display are more products featuring garlic flavor than one can imagine.

I drew the line before tasting garlic flavored ice cream! Incidentally it has been a great year for citrus with California oranges and tangerines; especially sweet to the taste.

In Merced we sought out our favorite Thai restaurant to find that Sam the proprietor and his wife had just returned from an extended vacation in Thailand. I entered with the formal Thai greeting of praying hands a nod uttering "Sawwadee Cop" remembrances of my time spent in that wonderful country during the Vietnam War.

Following the meal, of food I can barely describe but delightfully pleasing to our palates, Sam the owner and cook came out to visit. We spoke first the obligatory praise for their beloved King of Thailand, Bumephol who sadly has been ill. We also spoke of the continuing succession of Prime Ministers who one after another seem to lead governments made up of many diverse factions seemingly all mired in corruption. Sam immigrated to America around 1971 and proudly boasts of being a new U.S. citizen. He spoke a truth that in America we have only two political parties versus the many found in most democracies around the world. That is a good thing.

In America the two parties fight tooth-and-nail against each other but instantly unite when the whole country faces a threat. Country first, party second is our priority. Sam is convinced that America is the greatest country in the world but we already knew that.

That is the way I saw it.