Hall of Administration, Los Angeles, 1960-1973

 Located at 500 W Temple St, Los Angeles, CA 90012, between Grand Avenue and Hill Street.  I believe that Charlen worked here and Dan.

 

Dad always loved cafeterias.  If they had it, he'd often get a bowl or cup of chili almost as a measure of how good the cafeteria was as a whole.   

Lacrimosa

Mozart's dates are 1756 to 1791: he was only 35.  Britannica explains:

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, in full Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, baptized as Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart, (born January 27, 1756, Salzburg, archbishopric of Salzburg [Austria]—died December 5, 1791, Vienna), Austrian composer, widely recognized as one of the greatest composers in the history of Western music. With Haydn and Beethoven, he brought to its height the achievement of the Viennese Classical school. Unlike any other composer in musical history, he wrote in all the musical genres of his day and excelled in every one. His taste, his command of form and his range of expression have made him seem the most universal of all composers; yet, it may also be said that his music was written to accommodate the specific tastes of particular audiences.

His middle name is interesting.  One of the students I worked with was a 9th grader by the name of Crisostomo.  Crisostomo didn't talk much in class and didn't socialize much, but he was loved.  The students in his class used to refer to him as Ninja because he would come into class stealthily and sit at his desk without hardly a word.  Then today, eleven years later, I come to learn that his name is ancient Greek for "golden-mouthed."  Briefly, on one day we were reading Act I, Scene I of Romeo & Juliet in groups of four.  Crisostomo was in my group along with two other girl classmates of his.  I was a little anxious because Crisostomo hadn't spoken almost at all in class.  I started the reading aloud in the group.  Then the girl to my left read, then the girl to her left read, and then Crisostomo.  And he began reading, his beautiful tone lifted the importance of the passage above anyone of ours' expectations.  The two girls quickly raised their heads from the text and fixed their eyes wide-eyed on me as Crisostomo,  devouring the text, pressed on with the reading.  My heart swelled.  Not just for his personal accomplishment but that his eloquent reading made the exercise remarkably beautiful.  Okay, enough. 

Lacrimosa is one segment in the 8 sections of Mozart's Requiem, a mass for the dead.  The Lacrimosa is the final segment of the section titled, Sequentia.

from Wikipedia: 

The Lacrimosa (Latin for "weeping/tearful"), also, a name that derives from Our Lady of Sorrows, a title given to The Virgin Mary, is part of the Dies Irae sequence in the Roman Catholic Requiem Mass. Its text comes from the Latin 18th and 19th stanzas of the sequence. Many composers, including Mozart, Berlioz, and Verdi have set the text as a discrete movement of the Requiem. 

The lyrics are in Latin.

Lacrimosa dies illa

Qua resurget ex favilla

Judicandus homo reus.

Huic ergo parce, Deus:

Pie Jesu Domine,

Dona eis requiem. Amen.

Their English translation is here: 

Full of tears will be that day

When from the ashes shall arise 

The guilty man to be judged;

Therefore spare him, O God,

Merciful Lord Jesus,

Grant them eternal rest.  Amen. 

First Holy Communion at Immaculate Conception School, 1963

This is my 1963, First Holy Communion picture at Immaculate Conception School.  I am in the second row, 7th from the left of the row of boys.  I've got both my hands on my prayer book covering my face and my joy at the group photo and probably giddy at the thought of completing the procedures leading up to the big event.  I recall the preparation work and how the nuns during the rehearsal made it a big to-do.  

A printer explains what the First Communion is:

First Communion is considered one of the holiest and most important occasions in a Roman Catholic's life. It means that person has received the Sacrament of the Eucharist, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Most Catholic children receive their First Communion when they're 7 or 8 years of age because this is considered the age of reason. Others can receive communion for the first time whenever they've met all the Church's requirements. 

In order for anyone to receive communion, that person must be without sin and in a state of grace. Traditionally, young Catholic children will make their first confession or the Sacrament of Penance, a week before receiving their First Communion. At confession, the child will detail sins and misdeeds to a priest and receive a penance in exchange. The penance is usually several prayers to be recited immediately upon exiting the confessional. Once the child is absolved of sin, he's ready to make his First Communion.

I feel lucky to have found this picture.  I owned a hard copy of it for years stored indifferently in the hallway cabinet at Mom's for years but never secured it or cared for it properly.  I took that picture for granted and assumed that others would treasure it as much as I did.  Live and learn.  

Kevin Moore is in the picture.  He's the blond kid standing at Monsignor Dee's left.  The Rahab twin brothers are here, too, but these are names probably you're unfamiliar with.  IC was such the center of our lives back then.

Great Adventures Brought to You by CW

With the exception of Charlen, each member of our family was quite athletic in our youth.  Dan ran cross country, played basketball, could play tennis and some football.  Chuck may have been the all-star in the family, however.  His skills ran the gamut from football (he was a wide receiver on the Citrus Owls in 1967.  He played basketball.  In fact, he invited me often to play with him and his coworkers.  Once with Denny and other friends at the outdoor courts at Rosemead High School.  Another time, we played outdoors at a park in Hollywood.  I just wished I could remember the name of the school or park. 

To baseball, Chuck organized weekend games with his friends Pat and Denny Moore, and more than once we played on the Memorial Park field in Sierra Madre.  Chuck knew the classy places to test athletic prowess.  

We also played on the practice field at Citrus College.  

Will never forget one time when I was playing the outfield, center field to be specific, and a fly ball came to me.  I caught it but then threw the relay to Denny wildly offline, and Denny let out a guttural exclamation of disbelief.  Sorry, Denny.  

Suffice it to say that when it came to fun, to competition, and thrilling athletics and enjoying life, Chuck led those adventures astutely and with great excitement by challenging us.

It was Chuck who took us skin diving, the one and only time I saw a Garibaldi.  

One other adventure I had with Chuck was a road trip up to the High Sierras, specifically the Virginia Lakes.  We were riding in style in his white, 1981 VW Rabbit.  Fishing was okay, not great that weekend.  After the night's stay near Virginia Lakes, we drove back down 395 to the June Lake Loop.  Again, fishing was not spectacular.  On the way home, we took 395, of course, to Highway 14 through Lancaster but then got on Highway 138 before connecting to Highway 2 behind La Crescenta.  Chuck let me drive his car, his Volkswagen chariot, through the San Gabriel foothills.  Knowing that traffic would be less but road conditions a little more challenging, Chuck put me behind the wheel.  And I will never forget one of the best lessons I'd ever learned.  Hwy 2 is a 2-laned mountain road, and on occasion I had to pass slower vehicles.  And in my attempt to pass, I exercised caution out of respect to my passenger and out of respect to his property.  And that's when Chuck says to me, "You can't hesitate.  Once you decide to pass, you've got to execute it."  And h was absolutely right.  Being definite with my actions signaled others to get out of the way or adjust according to my move.  It was brilliant and became an enduring lesson.  Few in my orbit had this level of insight or if they did were incapable of communicating it.  Chuck executes thoughtful skills with finesse.  It was always a delight to be with him.  More than anyone, he knew how to edify the air, and I've always loved this ethic.  And though I've presumed I could achieve this somewhat with language or stories, I know, too, that I have failed certain audiences.  Thank you, Chuck, for so many great memories.  

I Do Love These

Dad reflexes 😮#HappyFathersDay pic.twitter.com/rwsqH5ZifG

— Steve Stewart-Williams (@SteveStuWill) June 20, 2021

Dad's Marine Days: 735th Marine Platoon, Marshall Islands, 1943

On November 11, 2020, Veteran's Day, or the preferred, Armistice Day, Joe posted some great pictures of Dad from his tour in the Marshall Islands during WWII.  Dad was drafted in 1943, shortly after his baby daughter, Charlen, was born.  I am sure that mixed feeling consumed him a bit, going off to a foreign land with a bunch of other young men from around the country.  As a headline to these photos, Joe wrote, 

Happy Veteran's Day . . . . WW2 Marshall Islands 735th Platoon. My dad's Marine service pics.

https://walgenbachpics.blogspot.com/search?q=marshall+islands

July 4th, 1985

For the 4th of July weekend, 1985, I drove with Carmela, her boyfriend, Kathy Braidhill, and a couple of other folks from Arcadia down Interstate 5 through San Diego, across the border, past Rosarito Beach, and into Ensenada where our hotel was.  We parked, unloaded our bags, got refreshed, and went out for dinner.  We ate shrimp and lobster, Carmela's anticipated meal along a coastal dining hall.  After dinner, we walked out onto the beach.  Remember, the 4th of July is no Mexican holiday.  So it was only us a few other Americans southside lighting off fireworks on the beach.  A Mexican soldier was patrolling the beach, checking on just such incidents to keep the celebrations of Americans down to a minimum.  But the 

Papa's and Beer was famous back in the 1980s for a wild place to drink.  They have restaurants all over, but one in Rosarito Beach and one in Ensenada.  I visited the one in Ensenada.  I finally made it down there, not to drink per se, but to just see the place and wonder what all the buzz was about.  It was mainly about and for drinkers.  It didn't interest me, but I was glad that I made it there.  

Thirty years later, it still looks the same.  

That certainly was not the main attraction of that vacation, not by a damn sight.  For me, it was the return trip north out of party-central Ensenada to a gorgeous cliffside restaurant and bar.  It may have been in Azul Punto or Blue Point.  What was beautiful about that place was that we had dinner on a cliffside deck built out of the rock, about three tiers of cliffs below the main floor and banquet room above.  The six of us sat at a redwood bench overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  It was late afternoon, and we had a 180° view of the ocean from 4pm to 7pm.  Upstairs indoors they had a DJ and a dance floor.  It was the ideal hangout for 20-something Americans.  The dance hall had French doors wide open and a few sheer white curtains on the doors that caught the breeze and made the setting enchanting. For a young man, it was luxurious.  First, we had a pitcher of margaritas between the 6 of us.  Then tacos and nachos flowed.  Then we saw a pod of whales with many blowing a water spout.  The view of the ocean seemed magazine-like as the sun began to drop over the horizon with the margaritas taking effect and casting tranquility over the scene as the whales headed north up the coast.  It was too good.  And one song Kathy and I danced to upstairs was Julian Lennon's, "Too Late to Say Goodbye," (1985).  I didn't think much of the song when I heard it on the radio while driving to work or on the way home, but in that restaurant, in her presence, the song ignited a violent war between the promise of pleasure and desertion.  The wind, my movement on the dance floor, my movement to the song, and my basking in the airy elevated room helped me to forget momentarily the desertion that seemed inescapable.