In my last post about the assassination of President Kennedy, I mentioned that my dad and I were in Los Angeles looking for an automobile when we learned the tragic news. It turned out, that because it didn’t seem appropriate nor practical to do business on that bleak Friday afternoon, we came back a few days later to purchase what became, (tah dah,) my first brand new car.
Now, for a New York kid that was only twenty-two, I had already bought and owned four cars, each with money I had saved from jobs since Junior High. One of them was a 1932 Plymouth that didn’t run, and was pretty much ruined when I tried to turn it into a rat rod. The next two were Mercurys, a “hot” 1950 coupe powered by a 352 cubic inch Packard engine, and a 1953 hardtop that ended up blowing a rear end on a trip back from the Adirondack Mountains. My last car before being inducted, was a blue and white 1956 Chevy that was, as we called it then, “cherry.” Rather than put it in storage during my three year enlistment, however, I reluctantly sold it to a close friend.
Obviously, every car I had ever owned was bought “used.” So our trip to Felix Chevrolet on November 22, 1963, was indeed unique. My dad had impressed upon me, that in California a CAR (not a dog) was man’s best friend, and without one that was reliable I might find myself stranded on a busy freeway, unable to get to classes. So between my Army savings, and an unsolicited but generous contribution from him, the decision was made to buy “new.” And buy we did. I ended up driving off the lot in an amazing, fire engine red, 1964 Chevy Chevelle Malibu.
I was SO proud of my new “ride!” I probably washed that car twice a day for the first two months I owned it. And when my Jr. College Freehand Drawing teacher gave us a homework assignment to draw something at our residence, you can guess what I chose as my subject… MY BRAND NEW CAR ! So, for those of you who weren’t around in 1964, or couldn’t pick a 1964 Chevelle out of a lineup, I’ve included those pencil drawings at the top of this post… artistic renderings of my first true automotive romance.
Epilogue: As it turned out, I ended up keeping this car for almost ten years. I would have kept it longer were it not for the fact that it was totaled by a large district delivery truck in my school parking lot. Seems the idiot driver parked on an incline, and forgot to secure the emergency brake, allowing the massive vehicle to roll fifty feet into my “baby,” like a bull charging a bright red, shiny cape. It was an assassination, clear and simple… just like the one on the day we first met!
Forty-nine years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was gunned down in a motorcade through Dealey Plaza, in Dallas, Texas. Bullets fired from high inside the Texas School Book Depository Building as his car passed, not only cut short the life of our youthful and vibrant 35th President, but ripped a hole in the hearts of citizens like myself, shattering for good what was certainly an era of American innocence.
As with most people alive when this tragedy happened, where I was and what I was doing at the moment of that fateful news, is still indelibly etched in my memory. A few weeks earlier I had just been discharged from the Army, and decided to take advantage of the local Junior College system by relocating from New York to California, and living with my dad who I hadn’t seen for almost twenty years. On that Friday, November 22, 1963, the two of us were at Felix Chevrolet on Figueroa Street in Los Angeles, looking for a car I could use for school. Our brief time walking around the huge lot had been more than strange. Instead of being mobbed by hoards of salesmen eager to make a deal, it was absolutely deserted. Even if we had been pushing a wheelbarrow full hundred dollar bills, not one salesman would have been there to notice.
After about twenty minutes we walked toward the showroom entrance looking for someone to answer our questions. The moment we opened the double doors and stepped in, it was obvious that something was very wrong. There were small clusters of people gathered throughout the building, many of them crying and sobbing as others held them close. There was conversation going on, but in such a hushed manner that it was impossible to understand what was being said. At one end of the showroom was a television surrounded by silent spectators, a few sitting on a lounge with bowed heads, but all with postures that indicated they were distraught.
Dad and I walked up to a man who was standing alone, away from everyone else. We asked him what had happened. Turning to us, his answer was tragically simple. With tears still evident on his cheeks, he said, “The President’s dead. They killed our President…!” Dad and I looked at each other, absolutely stunned. In the time it had taken us to drive the freeway from Orange County to downtown Los Angeles, we had lost our national leader.
The rest, of course, is history. But it’s funny, isn’t it? I still get emotional just writing about it. Not only was the life of my President, my Commander-In-Chief, and the beneficiary of my first vote snuffed out that day, so was much of my youthful optimism about the United States of America.
Few have had the occasion to be privy to the blow-by-blow account of a covert Special Operations Mission in progress. The last famous one was the takedown of Osama Bin Laden (see Post #44, January 2012), but even then Americans had to wait until the debriefing was done before any details were divulged. Today I will share with you, the official transcripts of a past Special Ops mission in New Jersey. While it was undertaken in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, it was no less dangerous than the storming of Bin Laden’s compound earlier this year.
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Looks like the Nannycrats are at it again. Here in California, some Pasadena administrators have banned Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on their school campuses. If found on the person of any student, the contraband snack will be confiscated, even if it was part of a lunch that was brought from home.
Many of the reasons for the ban are based on perceived health implications, like Cheetos being a junk food with no nutritional value, and containing too much fat and salt to be anything but a hazard to the kids that eat them. And the ban campaign, gaining traction in two other states, is being nobly characterized as yet another battle in the fight against child obesity.
There are other reasons that bureaucrats want to eliminate these Chastised Cheese Puffs. They include the allegation that when students share them with friends, they pass on germs which can make others sick. It also seems that the bright red food coloring that visually distinguishes this scorned snack, is a burden on custodians who are purported to spend extra time and effort cleaning up tell-tale fingerprints all over school campuses.
Finally, a far more sinister reason has been advanced regarding the subject. In an almost conspiratorial indictment of the processed food industry, some “experts” say that Flamin’ Hot Cheetos are manufactured to be addictive to those who eat them. Labeled a “hyperpalatability” food, its carefully calibrated fat, sugar, and salt content is said to trigger the brain’s reward system causing eaters to crave and consume more and more in an almost addictive manner. In essence, then, the charge is that our kids are being turned into junk food addicts by big business.
Obviously, this whole ban issue is emotionally changed with a host of supporters on either side. My opinion, however, has not changed since I wrote, “Keep Your Fingers Outa My Happy Meal,” in July 2010. If schools don’t want Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on campus, a good start would be to take them out of their cafeteria vending machines. As far as kids bringing them in their lunches, that’s a PARENTAL decision about which bureaucrats should have no say. Instead of acting heavy-handedly, they should inform, educate, and encourage parents to eliminate such food from their kid’s diets, and not presume that being a Nannycrat trumps being a parent.
Finally, to anyone who disagrees with me about this issue, I understand your concern that if the Flamin’ Hot Cheeto “epidemic” continues unchecked, frightening newspaper headlines may become the inevitable result. God forbid we would have to read anything like the following:
- Brisk Underground Hot Cheeto Trafficking Suspected in District Elementary Schools
- Individual Stashes of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Found In Scores Of Hollowed-Out Middle School Dictionaries
- Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Exonerated: Study Reveals Germ Passing A Result of French Kissing Behind Middle School Buildings
- Teacher Fired After Bribing Students To Pass State Test With Reward of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Fire In School Dumpster Blamed On Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Supreme Court Rules That Student Cavity Searches For Outlawed Hot Cheetos Are Unconstitutional
- Area Rehab Centers Overwhelmed With Influx Of Juvenile Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Addicts
- Local Second Graders Overdose on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos: Remain In Frito-Lay Wing of Urban Trauma Center
- Red Stool Sample Of High School Student Proves To Be The Result Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Not Hemorrhoids
- School Graffiti Cold Case Solved After Analysis of Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Fingerprints
- District Drug Sniffing Dog Discovers Cache of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In School Lockers, Misses Kilo of Marijuana
- High School Students Caught Smoking Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In Gymnasium Restroom
- School Board Upholds Rule That Wearing, “Give Me Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Or Give Me Death,” T-Shirts Is Forbidden On School Campuses
- School District Removes Flamin’ Hot Cheetos From Vending Machines: Loses 80% of Educational Revenue
- Elementary Students Caught Snorting Hot Cheeto Residue Through Cafeteria Straws
- Sixth Grader Becomes Sick After Ingesting Counterfeit Bag Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Eight Year Old Student Arrested As Kingpin Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Distribution Ring
- Child Protective Services Presses Charges Against Hundreds Of Parents For Allowing Students To Eat Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Paramedics Extract Flamin’ Hot Cheeto From Kindergartener’s Nasal Passage
- Despite Financial Deficit, School District Spends Thousands From General Fund To Post New Signs At Local Schools That State, “This Is A Smoke-free, Drug-free, Flamin’ Hot Cheeto-free Campus”
