My friend Greg lives on Mount Washington, looking down on much of Los Angeles. He and his friends are all musicians, and we BBQd and played and listened and talked yesterday and last night. I’ve known him since 1985. He’s a great musician and a good friend.
This is looking down on Lincoln Heights and East Los Angeles with a couple of the musicians jamming in the garage behind me.
The whole thing was magical.
After a pleasant meal of spaghetti & turkey meatballs and a green salad with gordonzola [sic] cheese and tomatoes, I’m relaxing as I listen to the neighborhood freakin’ explode. It gets louder every year. The mortars have moved east of the Boulevard finally and I also heard gunfire, which is not cool.
Either that or someone has designed a set of firecrackers that sounds exactly like a .30 caliber semiautomatic rifle emptying a five round magazine. It certainly got my attention.
I missed the City of Irvine’s Summer Series beginning with a bang! The advertisement promised that “Fireworks, music by the Kingston Trio, and a Pat Sajak narration of ‘Casey at the Bat’ headline the event.” Pat Sajak reading “Casey at the Bat”? PAT SAJAK? When Harry Shearer did his version of Kato Kaelin and John Tesh performing “Peter and the Wolf” it was supposed to be a joke, not a model for future entertainment. Yow. Ideally the Kingston Trio and Mr. Sajak would be attached to a gigantic rocket and forced to perform “Oh Susanna” while being fired into Modjeska Canyon at tremendous speed, but Irvine never really had that kind of spark.
Last night I dreamed about the cobbler Bethya made yesterday.
My friend and veteran journalist Joseph Bell gives you his Independence Day column.
Go ahead, you tell the 80+-year-old WWII combat veteran he’s disloyal. Old guys rule.