California Gals

My wife-to-be Cindy Morrison started her college career at Indiana University of Pennsylvania and later transferred to California Teachers’ College in California Pennsylvania. She and Started dating while she was still a student there. She and her sorority sisters would sing the Beach Boys classic, “I wish they all could be California girls.” She kept in touch with several of those sisters and became good friends. Her childhood best friend Debbie married a man who graduated from California as well. Debbie was the person who lured me into a blind date with Cindy. Many times we would double date and our weddings were only a month apart, May and June.

I’ve known my best friend Kathy all her life and she’s known me most of my life. She was also a good friend of my wife and they often did things together. We’ve remained good friends even after my wife passed away. As a matter of fact, I’m often her travel partner and service dog. She’s several years younger than me, but she sometimes has episodes of vertigo and needs to have someone close. Last summer we flew to Sacramento California to visit her aunt Leah. Other than the discomfort of being crowded into the cramped seats aboard the airplane for the six hour trip, I had a great time.

When we arrived, I met her aunt Leah and the little snippet of a dog named Beauty. Beauty was a small, chocolate fur ball and spoiled. I was surrounded by ladies.

While we visited, her aunt allowed us to use her car. She would ride along to visit places that she’d not seen since her husband died. We drove to San Francisco, toured Old Town, and took the boat ride over to Alcatraz. The tour was disappointing because much of the prison was closed because of the “pandemic.” We drove to see the giant Redwoods, walked the trails, and visited Lake Tahoe. Some of the homes lining the shore were nice, but not quite mansions. On the return trip, Kathy who is usually quiet, blurted out, “Deer” when she saw the yellow sign with a deer silhouette marking a highly traveled section of the highway for deer crossing. And I, being the jokester said, “What sweetheart?” We laughed all the way home because someone would say; “Deer” and we’d start to laugh again.

The vacation time ended all too soon, and we had to say goodbye to California, the citrus trees, the dried grasses, and the smoky skies. We were soon flying back to Pennsylvania in another crowded airplane.