With all the other chores Mami kept on top of, imagine my surprise when I found out she had put together a custom suit for me. Things like fancy clothes had never been a priority in my life, but the gratitude poured out of me nonetheless. She simply kissed my cheek and shooed me away so she could get ready for the outing.
Uncle Si was dressed in a suit as well. He stood me in front of a mirror and showed me how to knot a necktie. After we were ready, and waiting on Mamita, he led me outside to the hangar/garage.
He opened a different huge door this time, into a much bigger partition of the hangar. There were several cars inside—very strange looking. Most were long and swoopy, with smoothly rounded corners like the refrigerator inside—just about the opposite of the squared-off mechanical monster I’d arrived in. He noticed my state of wide-eyed wonder and chuckled. “You see something in the lines. You like the design. Don’t you?”
I nodded. “I do. But I don’t know exactly what to say about it. I’ve never seen cars like these.”
“It’s no coincidence that you were so fascinated by PJ’s Rube Goldberg contraptions.” He tapped his temple, looking me in the eye. “You’ve got the brain of an engineer.”
I shook my head. “Me? No. I just…”
“How would you like to help me take one apart and put it back together?” he interrupted.
“Seriously? Could I?”
“Yup. But for now…which one do you like best?”
After some hesitation, I pointed to a convertible with chrome tubes poking out of the hood and disappearing into the fenders.
“The Doozy. Good taste,” he said. “But Mami’s been spending a lot of time fixing her hair, and a long ride in a roadster will mess it up. Try again—but stick to the hardtops this time.”
“Why can’t we just put the top up?” I asked.
“I picked this one up in 1962,” he said. “Fixed it up and brought it back here. But the ragtop is in bad, bad shape. I have one of my slipstick jockeys working on a replacement, made out of space-age fabric, but it’s not a priority and he’s been busy on other projects.”
I selected a long, sleek land missile made from such lustrous sheet metal, it perpetrated the illusion of seeming to be made of deep, polished red glass.
Uncle Si climbed in and started it up. The engine sounded healthy, but much smoother than the one in the car from the other day. It purred with a deep tone as he eased it out and around to the front of the house. He left it running, walked back to shut the garage door, and locked it.
Mami emerged from the front door in a yellow silk dress with matching purse, shoes and hat. Her black hair was down, under the hat, and appeared even silkier than the dress. She looked so pretty I was afraid to go near her, lest I mess something up. Uncle Si opened her door for her, helped her in, and closed it before returning to the driver’s side to slide behind the wheel. I jumped in the back seat and off we went.
It was a nice ride. From what I could see of California, I liked it.
The grown-ups passed the driving time jabbering back-and-forth in Spanish—too fast for me to pick out many individual words.
Eventually, a city appeared before us. We pulled over to a gas station with tall, cylindrical pumps. A man in a uniform and hat came out of the station to politely ask what we would like.
“Fill up,” Uncle Si replied.
“Of course. And check your oil and radiator coolant as well, sir?” the uniformed man asked.
“Nope. Don’t open the hood. But do please check the tires.”
“Yes sir.”
I’d never seen a gas station like this, either. Nobody even had to get out of the car. Everything was done for us, and Uncle Si only had to pay him. The uniformed man took the money inside and returned with his change.
Next we stopped at a shoe shop. I went inside in my socks, leaving my sneakers in the car. Uncle Si gave the proprietor some story about my shoes getting lost. The guy sat me down, measured my feet, brought out a pair of shiny shoes that seemed to go well with the suit I was wearing, then added two other pairs that weren’t as fancy, but were still more fancy than what I was used to.
“You shouldn’t buy all this for me,” I protested.
“You mean you want to walk around barefoot?” Uncle Si asked, casually. “The rattlesnakes and scorpions will love that.”
I bit my tongue to avoid thanking him more than once, or to apologize for how much money I was costing him.
We resumed our journey into the city. Palm trees were everywhere. There were hot dog stands shaped like hot dogs; burger joints shaped like hamburgers; and ice cream shops shaped like ice cream cones. At one point, I could see the ocean. California looked like paradise.
“You know where we are?” Uncle Si asked, over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.
“Where?” I asked.
“Los Angeles,” he said, “decades before it became the cesspool of the West Coast. Even during the Depression, it was the cat’s pajamas. But it’s real heyday was in the ’20s. We’ll visit it then, some time. You gotta see it to believe it.”
“I’m not sure I believe what I’m seeing now,” I mumbled.
We came around a corner and, up in the hills I saw the Hollywood Sign…only it actually read “HOLLYWOODLAND.”
“I’m in a famous place,” I told myself. “And I’m there in 1934.”
Uncle Si took us to some big clothing stores where he had Mami pick out dresses, shoes, hats and “unmentionabes”—as the store clerk called them. Uncle Si bought all of it for her.
In my life, only other kids had parents or relatives with a lot of money.
Up until now.
Uncle Si was loaded, I realized. Dollars were worth a lot more in 1934 than they ever were in my lifetime, but I’d still never witnessed this much money being spent.
We went to the coolest theater I’d ever seen. It was called a “movie palace,” but was all decked out like ancient Egypt. The place was packed, and everybody seemed excited to be there. There were balconies above the normal seating, and all those plush seats were occupied, too. We watched cartoons, a “news reel” (talking about a “dust bowl” in Oklahoma, political events in Germany, the FBI chasing Pretty-Boy Floyd, and a brand-new prison named Alcatraz), a Little Rascals episode (only it was called “Our Gang” and some of the characters were different, while others were younger), and not one, but two full-length movies. One was The Lost Patrol, a movie set during some old war that reminded me, at times, of Uncle Si’s talk about leadership. My favorite of the night was Tarzan and His Mate. Everything was black & white, but I didn’t mind at all. Every time I smell popcorn, my memory takes me back to that evening.
After the movies, we went to a fancy restaurant shaped like an old-fashioned hat, and ate steaks with vegetables and hot, buttered bread.
The restaurant had entertainment: a guy dressed in ill-fitting clothes, the same kind of old-fashioned hat, and big shoes on backwards, with a little Hitler mustache, came out twirling a bamboo cane and performing some slapstick gags—all without uttering a word. The other diners were more amused than I was (Uncle Si would later explain that he was impersonating a famous comedian that everyone loved), but the trick he performed was pretty amazing. He balanced a plate on a wooden stick and spun it there. Then, while that one was still spinning, he did the same to another. By the time he was done, he had plates spinning on sticks held in both hands, on one foot, one knee, and his nose. That made for a lasting image. Even years later, I could think about that night, close my eyes, and see him there spinning multiple plates.
It wasn’t the supper, or the movies, or any one thing in particular, but I was overwhelmed with a feeling of happiness. Since crying my eyes out that one day, I hadn’t really missed Mom all that much. I felt sad she had died as she had, but of the two different realities, this one was much, much nicer to live in.
I loved being with Uncle Si and Mami. It felt like…well, like I was part of a real family. I felt sorry for every kid who didn’t have a family like this.
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