Wishing for Whales

Wishing for Whales

Noel Laflin

11-16-16

Several magnificent pods of gray whales swimming and spouting close to shore stopped the Laguna Beach Rotary meeting dead in its tracks one fine winter day some forty years ago.  Because of that sudden and unexpected sight, as witnessed by those of us standing and watching through the large bay windows of the elegant, old banquet room, it is, consequently, the only Rotary meeting that I can ever really recall.  It was a most memorable distraction.

Oh, sure, there was the time I attended a different civic club meeting down in San Juan Capistrano when a couple of drunken Kiwanians pushed the button to open the sliding roof at the El Adobe Restaurant during a howling rain storm.  Now, that was memorable too just for the mayhem that quickly ensued; but nothing as so fondly remembered as the spouting of twenty whales a few hundred yards off-shore in a landmark establishment once haunted by the likes of Bogart and Bacall, Madam Modjeska, a prince of Russia, and Myrna Loy.  Catalina Island beckoning just twenty-six miles beyond that provided a pretty stunning backdrop as well.

I got to thinking about this sight, back when I was a much younger man, as a couple of youngsters that I have known for nearly than half their lives are going to be married at the Hotel Laguna a couple of days before Christmas. Those two kids are now about the age I was when I attended that Rotary meeting there so long ago.

And aside from wishing them much happiness of course, I also hope a few whales are spotted during the ceremony.  It leaves one with a lasting impression. 

Last Seen Heading West

Last Seen Heading West

Noel Laflin

9-14-16

Thick bamboo framed our kite,

A bedspread covered all,

It stood six feet from tip to top,

Criminee! It was tall.

No fragile string would hold this beast,

So fishing line was sought,

‘It ought to hold,’ we said aloud,

And kept our fingers crossed.

Then four young boys from Flower Street,

Did launch their falcon off,

And so it soared to rapid heights,

On hidden winds aloft.

We laughed with glee at neighbors who,

Had scoffed at our attempt,

But neighbors had the final say,

As line first broke – then went …

Of last we saw, this kite of ours,

It sallied forth due west,

Freed from the grip of those four boys,

Who’d lost their youthful quest.

Stealing Hearts

Stealing Hearts

Noel Laflin

7-2-16

Let's play some cards, we would say, 
On dreamy summer nights,
Brother, sister, mom and dad,
A game of hearts in sight.

Mother'd boldly lead the play,

And steal the Queen of Sin,
Running tricks for every heart,
And slyly she would win.

Shared Pleasure

Shared Pleasure

Noel Laflin

5-19-16

Mom kept small gifts in the old, squat dresser,

In the event the grandkids might show.

And the kids knew exactly where those gifts were stored

When they came to visit my folks,

(Which, was often) -

Racing from a parent’s car,

Across the lawn, through the door,

Down the hall, and to the spare room where the

Small, squat dresser held the horde.

It never got tiresome, the watching of that race,

The pleasure shared by young and old alike.

Penny Hunt

Penny Hunt

Noel Laflin

5-16-16

Friday nights were frequently penny hunt nights,

And dad relied upon young eyes to help in the search

Of elusive Wheat Back Lincolns with evasive mint dates.

That’s when my sister and I were suddenly in demand.

My father would clear the kitchen table and dump

A newly acquired batch of pennies dead center.

The bright blue coin folder was fetched from the hall closet,

An old magnifying glass was liberated from a kitchen drawer,

And a bright reading lamp was moved to the table

As Susi and I would begin to flip the coins to a heads up position.

Then the hunt would begin in earnest.

“I’m still in need of a 1914 D,” my father would say,

Time and again -  “and a 1922, no mint mark while you’re at it,”

He’d remind us - session after session - hunt after hunt.

Alas, those two, along with a scattering of other highly prized dates

Were never found.
I’ve got a faded blue penny folder to prove the point,
Along with the same old magnifying glass which,
Now resides in my kitchen drawer.

But the hunt continues on these many decades later,

As we  still glance at change, especially pennies,

Before it goes into the Betty Boop piggy bank.

And, as David’s eyes are younger than mine – 

He knows the drill.

Cup Waving

Cup Waving

Noel Laflin

5-16-16

I had a vision of my dad just now,
Seated in his favorite chair, waving an empty coffee cup in the air.
I suppose the vision came about as it was me 
Who did the cup waving this time.
You see, my cup was empty and I, 
Having a nice warm computer in my lap,
Couldn’t resist the urge of being waited upon –
Let alone losing the warmth of that laptop.
My dad, minus the computer, did the cup waving routine
On a regular basis his last few years.
But he was an old man by then,
Bent low with age, bad eyes, bad knees –
He deserved being waited upon.
And while you were refilling his cup –
(He did in a pot or two of the hot, black brew for ninety years) –
Dad would ask if there were any cookies lying about.
I am not to that point yet –

As my recent cup waving was done purely out of laziness.

But I should have asked for cookies nonetheless.

And Pecan Pie for Dessert

And Pecan Pie for Dessert

Noel Laflin

5-2-16

Bob Laflin and Vi Glasrud snuck out of town 74 years ago today, drove over the state line, found a justice of the peace, had the man’s wife stand in as a witness, and got quietly hitched.

 

On the way back from Wisconsin to the small town of Lake City, Minnesota, they stopped at a diner and ordered hamburgers and coffee.  They had pecan pie for dessert.

Only the immediate family was aware of the marriage, as Vi was a high school teacher, and Minnesota law at the time did not allow for married female teachers.  So they stayed mum on the issue for the next four years.

A few weeks after that quiet Wisconsin ceremony, Bob Laflin reported to army boot camp, was promptly shipped off by train to Riverside, California for infantry training, then rode the rails back across the country, boarded a ship out of New York bound for North Africa, and along with a few thousand other GI’s and Brits, chased Field Marshal Rommel around the desert before heading off to the islands of Corsica and Sardinia, and eventually France, Belgium, Luxemburg, and Germany itself.

He addressed all of his correspondence to his wife, by using her maiden name.  They used a secret, prearranged code so she might know where he really was at any given time.  He would send tiny packets of soil, wrapped in cellophane, within many of the letters, so that she could also ‘feel’ for herself the land from which he wrote.

There is so much more that could be said, and perhaps will be when their Diamond Anniversary rolls around at this time a year from now.

Suffice to say for the present, I wish they were still here to celebrate these milestones – but alas, they are celebrating elsewhere no doubt.  And if there is a heaven, I am sure it serves hamburgers, coffee, and pecan pie for dessert - the traditional anniversary dinner we all craved each May 2nd.

I am glad that I listened to some of their tales growing up.  I only regret not having taken notes at the time.

Love you, Mom and Dad.  Happy Anniversary.

 

Can you see this cup of coffee raised in salute?

I just wish that I had a slice of pecan pie to go with it.