Underage Drinking

By kiki

How did you get your booze when you were underage? - In the early '50s, we used to drive to East L. A. where we knew a store owner on Eastern and Floral that sold beer to underage guys.

I didn't drink in my early or mid-teens. And that is because one day, my dad put the fear of God in me. When I was about 12-13 years old, we were hanging around our Simons Brickyard nightly lumbrita (small fire), and one older guy had a quart of beer. He started passing the quart around, and when it came around to me, I took the big bottle like an old pro, and I took a good chug of the brew. 

A few days later, after we had finished dinner, my dad asked me to step outside with him, I did. He told me that he had heard that I was drinking beer at the fire; I 'fessed up and said that what he had heard was true. He then got in my face and told me that if I did it again, he was going to, among other things, beat the living crap out of me. After that, I didn't drink any adult beverages until I was 19 years old, and by that time, I was already married and out of the house. By the way, my Pops never laid a hand on me in his life.

The End of A Tradition

                                                 Convict Lake 

By kiki

For me, a family tradition that started in the mid-1960s because of age and health issues has ended. I've recognized that aging closes the window of physical strength (and perhaps mental acuity) to travel the Sierra. 

We started a tradition of going trout fishing on the last weekend of April, the Eastern Sierra trout season's opening weekend. Memories of those times; I will always cherish: Those memories create sadness and gratitude for the times I've had. 

I now view every season as one more clip from the ribbon of time that I wished I had left to be with my boys. For me now, my one hope is to one day know that all of my sons and my two adopted sons, Camper Mike and Pinche Mijo, AKA Rico, are together up in the Eastern Sierra wetting a 4-pound test line in one of the many pristine lakes or creeks that are in abundance in the Sierra. - I don't know if I deserved it, but I would like them all to drink a beer in my honor. And so, with teary eyes and a heavy heart, this old fisherman bid farewell to God's Country, the Eastern Sierra, and to all of my boys, I say, "have a great day of fishing, and I love you all."

                                          Independence Creek