Friday & Saturday - Oct. 24 & 25Ahhhh....Bakersfield.
What a place.
There are a lot of jokes about Bakersfield. A lot.
Here's one I heard last night.
"You know what the first 3 words an Okie baby (that's a kid born in Oklahoma for those of you not familiar with the "Okie" term) says? Mama, Dada, & Bakersfield."
Bakersfied is also known as "Tulsa West."
The richest guy in town does NOT - I repeat does NOT - drive a Mercedes or Lexus. He drives a 1987 raised up Pickup Truck. With gargantuan tires, no shocks, little paint, and a frickin' gun rack. With a gun in it. And he's not only darned proud of it, he's the envy of all his buddies. And -- this is the really scary part - their wives!
Wine is an unknown beverage. Beer rules.
A guy I was talking to yesterday said he wanted to try that new beer that has less calories. (He would never admit that to his friends, by the way, but since I am from "Southern California" or "The City," I guess he felt safe confiding in me probably figuring I was a wimp, drank wine, and wasn't going to snitch on him.) Couldn't find that sissy beer in Bakersfield. Had to drive over the Grapevine and all the way down to Santa Clarita to pick up a couple of six packs.
Get the idea?
And yet....I'm here.
Why, you're probably asking?
Two Reason: 1) Connie. 2) Frank.
On Friday I drove up here from San Clemente. Stopped in Valencia for a quick business lunch, then up, up, up - racing the 18 wheelers and winning - to about 4,000 feet over the famous Grapevine, and then down, down, down into the essentially sea level Bakersfield on the floor of the southern "horseshoe" end of the San Joaquin Valley.
Built on an agriculture and oil economy base, and in spite of the redneck reputation, beer drinking, gun totin' population, and rampant jokes, Bakersfield is one of the fastest-growing large-population cities in America.
It can't be the climate, which kind of sucks most of the time, so I'm figuring, based on personal experience, it must be Connie and Frank. There is no other rational explanation. Something is drawing people here.
I met Frank the day before the first day of Law School at UCLA. Since I'm sort of a loner by nature and do everything possible to avoid social interaction, especially making eye contact with strangers, Frank spotted me in the book store all by myself, apparantly (in his eyes) insecure and helpless, and instantly decided (Frank does most things instantly simply because his brain works at lightening speed) that I was lonesome, incompetent, and needed a friend, mentor, and adviser. Haven't been able to shake him since.
Way back then, when hippyism and all that it implied ruled the day, Frank was already an established, conservative, stable family man - married to his long time high school sweetheart, Connie, with a kid in the making. It was that Bakersfield upbringing, I guess.
Frank pushed me through law school - made sure I signed up in time, coordinated my class schedules so I took all the "right" classes (those he was in), and instructed me continually in the finer points of the law (the irrelevant trivia that he found fascinating but that actually had nothing at all to do with achieving your JD). Luckily I have the ability to appear awake, alert, and intersted while not listening at all to what most people say.
Meanwhile dear, sweet, kind, generous Connie became "mom" to a bunch of us, a great and true friend to Stephanie and me, and the real "mom" to Jon. I was honored to go to the hospital and meet him the very day he was born and now, 37 or so years later, we're still friends, too. I just saw Jon a month or so ago.
This morning at 5:00 AM I'm sitting across from Frank, having some coffee while Frank guzzles his coffee and Red Bull (honest), and he's explaining to me how and where the "best" coffee in the world comes from and what makes it so good, and where he gets his special blends, and why, and how much it costs and why, and god knows what else. Fortunately, I'm writing my Travel Blog so I just have to look up and say "really?" now and again and we're both fine with that. He knows I don't pay much attention anyway, but he seems to get a lot of satisfaction from keeping me educated on...well...on EVERYTHING. Why should I deprive him of the pleasure?
Meanwhile dear, sweet, kind, generous Connie is still sleeping (what normal, rational person wouldn't be at 5:00 on a Sunday morning?) and when she get's up she'll want to mother me all day. Make sure I have enough to eat & drink, worry that I'm going to ride my motorcycle to the tennis court this morning and not stop worrying until I return safely, want to do my laundry for me and clean up my Motor Home, and generally give, give, give of herself and then give some more.
That's why I find myself in Bakersfield. To stay connected to the best, kindest, and dearest friends anyone could ever ask for or hope to find.
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Friday Night
We went over to Franks Mom's house. Ruth. 80 something. Shoots her age in golf. Plays most days. Sweetest woman on earth.
The occasion was a birthday party for an old childhood friend of Frank and Connie's - George. He and his wife Evie were there. Ruth made homemade chicken enchiladas, Connie made salads, and Ruth topped off a great meal with a home made -- just exactly like my Grandma used to make -- lemon pie. This is the kind with real crust and filling actually made with lemons -- off of trees and everything. What great memories. What a treat.
Had a lovely time. George and Evie are nice as can be. Otherwise they wouldn't have remained friends with Frank and Connie for 50 some odd years, I'm sure.
The only problem with the whole deal was that I forgot my camera so I can't share any pics of George's birthday. Maybe next year.
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SaturdayI met a guy on the Senior Tennis Circuit who is from Bakersfield. Last year when I was up here I tracked him down and we played a little tennis.
So I tracked him down again and we played Saturday morning - more on that later.
I left the tennis court and went to KERN Radio....the station.
Frank has a talk radio show on Saturday at noon Pacific Time. You get it on the Internet if you're so inclined.
http://www.kernradio.com/It's "In Chambers" and features Frank, the Judge (Retired), Ben, the Criminal Defense Attorney, and T.J., the Ex-Con.
It's a hoot.
Yesterday they were on Prop. 8 and the Ex-Con was passionate and vociferous about making sure everyone votes to pass it. The Judge is trying to maintain rationality and order in the court - I mean the studio. Callers are ringing the phones off the hook - most siding with the Ex-Con while the Defense Attorney is begging for some "rational, intelligent" people to call in.
At one point, the emotional temperature got so hot in the studio I thought the Judge and Ex-Con were going to come to blows during a commercial break. I was NOT prepared to get in between them....Frank is twice my size and could hurt me and T.J. is...well, for gosh sakes, an Ex-Con. I don't want to be in a fight with a guy who's survived time on the inside. So I kind of pretended I wasn't there. And I noticed that Ben, the Defense Attorney, clearly a smart fellow, exited the room quickly.
The audience loved it. They got more call ins than ever before. If you can get the phones ringing like that, at least you're getting a good emotional reaction from your audience.
Hats off to all 3 of you. I appreciate the opportunity to have been there. When you're all famous TV personalities, I'll be able to say, "I remember when...." And I'll sell this picture on Ebay for a million bucks.
In Chambers
Frank - T.J. - Ben
After the show Frank and I went to get me a new motorcycle battery, we installed it, watched some of UCLA getting hammered again, then had a very nice dinner at Olive Garden.
Beautiful weather. Hangin’ with Frank and Connie. Fabulous Day.
Got a little swim in right about here. It was about 90 degrees outside all afternoon/evening, so the river water felt really good. Cold, but not nearly as cold as I was expecting. I don't think the nighttime temp here got below about 70. 
As you can see, Frank is kind of a big guy. I have a self image of being a big guy...bigger than average, I guess. But when I'm around Frank, I feel like one of the Seven Dwarfs. Which one? You tell me. I welcome your comments.
Every once in a while I feel like I should be a more entertaining or engaging guest. A better guest. I guess I really don't know how to be a good guest other than to just leave, I suppose. But I do try to pick up after myself, try not to be too disruptive to my hosts' lives and lifestyles, offer to clean and cook and help out in any other way I can think of -- which offers of help, by the way, are typically turned down so it's a cheap way to ingratiate yourself with your hosts without actually having to do anything.
Pita got so excited to see some of her doggy buddies a couple of weeks ago she jumped out of someone's arms and injured her left hind leg. Hence the cast/splint/bandage job. Per doctor's orders she is suppoed to be in her cage full time. Neither Frank nor Connie can manage that. She pretty much does whatever she darned well pleases.
