It was the month of Novemeber 1960. I was 11 years old and my brother, Kenneth, was 6 years old. We lived in Fresno, California. Fresno, a farming community, lies in the San Joaquin Valley in the middle of the state. I recently said to Kenneth that Fresno must have the worst weather on earth. He agreed. In the summer, it's blazing hot. It gets up into the 100's and stays there all summer. It usually starts around the middle of May and lasts until the middle of October.
Then the cold fall winds arrive followed by the tule (tooley) fog in November. If you've never experienced tule fog, you haven't lived. It's a thick fog and extremely dangerous when driving. You sometimes can't see past the hood of your car. The winters in Fresno are cold and gloomy. If you have seasonal affective disorder (SAD), don't move there.
Fresno has a lot of maple trees, and the one fond memory I have of Fresno is the smell of burning leaves in the fall. In the 60's you could rake your leaves into the street next to the curb and burn them right there. You could even incinerate your trash in a can in your backyard. Oh, the good old days.
Getting back to November 1960, everyone was preparing for the upcoming Thanksgiving; keep that in mind while I digress. My mother has always been afraid of living alone. My father had passed away two years prior, so Mom was left with the role of adult of the household. She had a ritual every night before going to bed. She'd check about 40 times to see if all the doors and windows were locked and the burners were turned off on the stove.
On one particular cold, foggy night as she was going through her ritual, she happened to pull the shade back to look out the front window. "Oh, shit!" I was in bed asleep, but knowing Mom, I'm sure she said "Oh, shit!" Mom had kind of a foul mouth. She'd say damn, hell, and shit. She never said the F word. She thinks the F word is the worst word a person could say next to using the Lord's name in vein.
"Oh, shit!" A man was looking in the window!
Mom ran to the phone and called her boyfriend, Bill. Bill hopped in his car and came to save the damsel in distress. Mom let him in the house and pointed to the window where the peeping Tom had been.
Bill went over and pulled back the shade. "Oh, shit, he's still there!"
Now, not only is Mom frightened out of her panties, but John Wayne is frightened out of his chaps.
This obviously wasn't working. John Wayne suggested they call the police, so they did.
The police came out and looked around. They went around the perimeter of the house.
"Ma'am, we found some footprints outside, but the prowler seems to be gone now."
They were actually my footprints. At eleven years old I was taller than everyone in my class and had pretty big feet.
I don't know what happened after the police left. Maybe John Wayne slept on the sofa. Mom has always been afraid to spend the night alone. With a peeping Tom running around the neighborhood, she must have been terrified. My good Christian, Southern mama would never let a man spend the night in her bed with her children in the house. To tell you the truth, I don't think Mama had sex after my father died. I just can't imagine it. I think I'll ask her.
I told you earlier to keep in mind that it was around Thanksgiving.
The next morning Mama wakes up after a restless sleep. She goes to the offending window and tugs on the shade. It flaps up to the top of the window. "Ahhhhhhhhhh! Holy shit!" The man is back!" She can now I.D. him for the police.
The man was a pilgrim my six year old brother, Kenneth, had made at school. He thought the front window was the proper place to tape his art work.
Disclaimer: I do not lie. I swear this story is true. I have not embellished it in the least. I'll even swear on a stack of Bibles, and if my mother was in her grave, I'd swear on that too.
Then the cold fall winds arrive followed by the tule (tooley) fog in November. If you've never experienced tule fog, you haven't lived. It's a thick fog and extremely dangerous when driving. You sometimes can't see past the hood of your car. The winters in Fresno are cold and gloomy. If you have seasonal affective disorder (SAD), don't move there.
Fresno has a lot of maple trees, and the one fond memory I have of Fresno is the smell of burning leaves in the fall. In the 60's you could rake your leaves into the street next to the curb and burn them right there. You could even incinerate your trash in a can in your backyard. Oh, the good old days.
Getting back to November 1960, everyone was preparing for the upcoming Thanksgiving; keep that in mind while I digress. My mother has always been afraid of living alone. My father had passed away two years prior, so Mom was left with the role of adult of the household. She had a ritual every night before going to bed. She'd check about 40 times to see if all the doors and windows were locked and the burners were turned off on the stove.
On one particular cold, foggy night as she was going through her ritual, she happened to pull the shade back to look out the front window. "Oh, shit!" I was in bed asleep, but knowing Mom, I'm sure she said "Oh, shit!" Mom had kind of a foul mouth. She'd say damn, hell, and shit. She never said the F word. She thinks the F word is the worst word a person could say next to using the Lord's name in vein.
"Oh, shit!" A man was looking in the window!
Mom ran to the phone and called her boyfriend, Bill. Bill hopped in his car and came to save the damsel in distress. Mom let him in the house and pointed to the window where the peeping Tom had been.
Bill went over and pulled back the shade. "Oh, shit, he's still there!"
Now, not only is Mom frightened out of her panties, but John Wayne is frightened out of his chaps.
This obviously wasn't working. John Wayne suggested they call the police, so they did.
The police came out and looked around. They went around the perimeter of the house.
"Ma'am, we found some footprints outside, but the prowler seems to be gone now."
They were actually my footprints. At eleven years old I was taller than everyone in my class and had pretty big feet.
I don't know what happened after the police left. Maybe John Wayne slept on the sofa. Mom has always been afraid to spend the night alone. With a peeping Tom running around the neighborhood, she must have been terrified. My good Christian, Southern mama would never let a man spend the night in her bed with her children in the house. To tell you the truth, I don't think Mama had sex after my father died. I just can't imagine it. I think I'll ask her.
I told you earlier to keep in mind that it was around Thanksgiving.
The next morning Mama wakes up after a restless sleep. She goes to the offending window and tugs on the shade. It flaps up to the top of the window. "Ahhhhhhhhhh! Holy shit!" The man is back!" She can now I.D. him for the police.
The man was a pilgrim my six year old brother, Kenneth, had made at school. He thought the front window was the proper place to tape his art work.
Disclaimer: I do not lie. I swear this story is true. I have not embellished it in the least. I'll even swear on a stack of Bibles, and if my mother was in her grave, I'd swear on that too.
