Sock it to Me

 

Sock it to Me

Noel Laflin

11-16-24

 

I went to my good friend Joanie's 90th birthday party today - and as expected, it was a walk down memory lane with old Scouting friends going back nearly 50 years together.

While getting ready to head over to the party I distinctly remember taking out a clean pair of socks to put on upstairs where I keep my shoes.

Well, twenty minutes go by, I realize it's time to put on my sneakers and head out, but I can't find my socks. Thinking I am loosing it again (happens daily with things like this), I eventually give up the search, grab a new pair, put on shoes and go to the party.

I am at the party chatting with the birthday girl when one of her sons pulls me aside to ask if there was some significance to the pair of socks draped over my shoulder.

"So that's where they went!" I exclaimed, more happy to have solved the riddle as to where I had left them, as opposed to the embarrassment of having to explain why they were there in the first place.

Joanie's son just shook his head and wandered off.

I was simply giddy with relief - and then removed the socks from my shoulder and stuffed them in my back pocket.

As the story quickly spread from there, I just thought I should tell my side of things first and avoid further confusion that I am certain will be following me in the days to come.

I will be looking over my shoulder, too, no doubt, just in case such confusion decides to sneak up on me again. 

 

Friendship

 

Friendship

Noel Laflin

11-19-24

 

When I started working professionally for the Boy Scouts back in September 1976, I really didn't have a clue as to how to raise money or recruit kids for the organization - the two things that either made or broke a young professional in that field.

 

Then I was introduced to a woman, a volunteer Cub Scout leader by the name of Joan Gribble, who must have taken pity on the floundering newbie (the idealistic, but naive twenty-three-year-old me), as she quietly took me by the hand and showed me the ropes in order to get the job done.

 

We made for a successful team over the next three years advancing our district to number one in both recruitment as well as financial achievements. We were a force to be reconnected with. And, with Joanie in mind, they remain some of my fondest memories of that long ago era.

 

I couldn't have done any of this without her.

 

And now she turns 90, and I am on the verge of 72.

 

But at her birthday party on Saturday, (attended by former Cub Scouts now all in their 60's), it was as if no time at all had passed.

 

Scouting has changed. But fierce loyalties and strong friendships are still intact.

 

Happy birthday, dear friend! And as always, you remain trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind ... well, the list does go on and on, naturally enough.

 

Hallowed Ground

 

Hallowed Ground

Noel Laflin

10-31-24

Hallowed describes something, such as a memorial, considered holy or blessed, or something that is highly respected and revered.

There's a potter's field (albeit small) located in Anaheim Cemetery, which always makes me a bit sad. I first discovered the area when I was a kid, as the cemetery was just behind our street, and my friends and I often roamed and played there. I hope we were somewhat respectful on most occasions. But being that we were just kids, well, that's up for debate, of course.

None of the graves in this part of the cemetery are maked with any name, dates, etc. (just small, blank slabs of concrete) - except for this hand-inscribed testament to a life shortly lived.

Someone did their best to remember the child beneath.

I picture a parent who waited till the guys who poured the cement had left, crept in, and made the notation before the compound had time to fully dry. At least that's the scenario that plays out in my mind.

It still haunts me - but it may be the most blessed and revered memorial of all.

Silver Anniversaries

 

Silver Anniversaries

Noel Laflin

10-22-24

 

My folks threw a silver wedding anniversary party back at the old family home in Anaheim - way back in May, 1967.

 

And although I was just fourteen at the time, I remember it well as it was a sunny spring day, there was a ton of good food laid out and libations that were a flowing. There were a lot of friends from the neighborhood, church, and school that came bearing gifts to note the occasion as well.

Aside from the memories, I do still have the silver plated tea/coffee set someone gifted them.

 

I came across it in a dusty box in the garage ten years ago, cleaned it up a bit, and set it out in my own home. It's been there ever since.

 

It dawns on me now that I have lived here in Orange nearly as long as my folks lived in Anaheim, which was over four decades.

 

And, while on that line of thinking, maybe I should throw a silver anniversary party of our own for David and me next year.

 

If marriage had been available to us back in 2000, well, it would be an official silver wedding anniversary, I guess. But an official ten year celebration (and the fifteen years prior of just living in sin) is still nice to consider, too. And hopefully the law of the land stays that way.

 

Either way, when it comes time to help sober up the guests in my fanciful imagination, I will have a silver plated coffee set at the ready.

 

My father knew and loved David. My mom would have too, had she lived long enough to have met him.

 

So, I know they would approve of the symbolic pouring of the coffee, as well as having any excuse for throwing a party.

Fixing an Image

 

Fixing an Image

Noel Laflin

10-24-24

There was a time when photography involved viewing negatives before you went to cut, develop and print a picture.

A fellow photographer gave me this capture while I was in the photo lab of the old FJC Journalism classroom, circa 1972. I am grateful to still have a copy.

When I had the darkroom all to myself and was caught up on school paper assignments, I was frequently processing and printing out pictures of Camp Ahwahnee life - the building of the old log cabin, in particular. I was shooting the photos on a 1912 Kodak camera my father had found and I absconded with shortly thereafter. The negative size was huge, compared to anything shot on a 35m. camera, and was great to work with when it came to viewing and processing.

We had a dark room at camp during summer months, and I even installed a small darkroom in a closet at home during the off-season.

Consequently, my fingers were always a brownish-yellow color from grabbing photos out of the fixing tray and my bedroom reeked of processing chemicals. But it was a good time in my life, bringing an image to life, learning how to crop a shot, cursing when a potential keeper was blurred, but delighted when one or two turned out just right.

Times do change, however, as digital cameras now rule, and the youth of one's yesteryear fade away, despite the best attempts at fixing an image. 

Ship Notes 10-25-24

 

Ship Notes

Friday Morning 10-25-24

Noel Laflin

 

The buffet is crowded early this morning as folks are waiting for the dense fog to lift so they can find their way off the gangplank and get to the exploration of Ensenada.

 

An older gentleman approaches my table, asking if he can join me, as seating is at a premium currently.

 

"Of course!" I told him, and slide a stray coffee mug out of his way.

 

Spontaneous friendships are often made in this manner, or so we have experienced over the years. And this chance encounter with a fellow named Doug proved to be no different in nature.

 

Midway through our breakfast, I learn that my new friend has recently lost his wife of sixty-five years, and the reason for this cruise is to scatter her ashes in the Pacific - somewhere between San Francisco and here - which he and his daughters did just two days ago.

 

Doug is a bit misty eyed at this point, so I reached out to touch his hand, thanking him for sharing his story.

 

"I haven't been able to talk about this with anyone till now, so thanks for listening."

 

Sometimes, the simple courtesy of sharing a table leads to so much more.

 

And then, just like that, the mighty fog that engulfed both ship and city begins to lift, and the sunshine breaks through.

From the Memory File - Halloween 1994

 From the Memory File - Halloween 1994

Noel Laflin

10-26-24

I like this photo for several reasons.

First, front and center, are Krysten and her mom Brenda sporting the most perfect costumes.

Second, baby Nic (my niece) is right behind them, head barely showing. It was her first Halloween party.

Third, but not in this photo, is the memory of my brother and parents also having been there. It was the last time that both of my folks were able to attend the annual drunken affair - this particular one lasting way into All Saints Day morning, of course. I remember that mom was a gypsy, and looked great.

And lastly, it was one of the last major blowouts where major next day cleanup was called for and passed out guests were given coffee and minor sustenance before handing back their car keys.

The parties were somewhat subdued thereafter - well, until the next big Halloween party three years later, where my father donned his Army uniform, fifty years since any prior wearing, got tipsy and was the hit of the party, speaking bad French and thinking he was in a Paris bistro circa 1945.

He kept offering chocolates to every female that dared to sit on the couch close by and singing French ballads (poorly too). I hid the bowl of Hershey's Kisses eventually.

But, to everyone's credit, no one had the heart to tell him the war was over. However, everyone did compliment him on the fact that he still filled out the uniform pretty well.

And that was a mistake as he just rambled off more bad French and apologized for having the poor manners of not bringing any silk stockings to the bistro.