It was the beginning of summer 2004, and I was at Mom's in Duarte, enjoying the peace of her home, the comfort of her large chair, while watching the 1964 Burt Lancaster movie, titled The Train, co-starring Paul Scofield, another favorite actor of mine. The two actors paired up again in a thrilling, 1973 spy movie, called Scorpio.
While enjoying the 1964 Lancaster movie,
Charlen and John pulled up at the curb outside, leaving enough room for the mailman to scoot his jeep up to the mailbox for his early-afternoon deliveries. A few minutes of anticipation grew before they stepped
through the door. John saw the television screen and immediately called out,
"Ah, The Train." And it kind of took me by surprise because here I
was thinking that the movie was a bit of a cult classic, directed by John
Frankenheimer and all. But no, John knew the film, and probably if I pressed him could have rattled off the entire list of actors including the director's name. He had such a great memory. Will never forget the time I was in South Carolina with him, Charlen, and family for Kevin's wedding. And we drove across a terrific bridge, probably the Grace Memorial Bridge that crossed and overlooked the Cooper River [the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge didn't open until 2005] to find a restaurant that served bloomin' onions. And a few minutes after we were seated in a quaint place with lots of good-sized windows and sunlight that afforded a beautiful view of the bay, the topic of school and learning came up and John delivered by rote memory, not missing a beat, what seemed like a 50-word list of all the prepositions in the English language. Stunned. I thought where did he learn that? So it was no wonder that he knew with such familiarity the movie, The Train. And why wouldn't he? It was from his era.
Santa Anita, 1935.
1939, ^ - View of the Santa Anita
Racetrack paddock (foreground) and a packed parking lot (background). Large
crowds of people can be seen walking across the pathways surrounding the
paddock, as well as sitting on benches along the main entrance. The paddock
area is where horses are 'assembled', saddled, and mounted before a race.
1934, ^#^^ – View of a filled-to-capacity parking lot on Opening Day at Santa Anita Racetrack, December 25,
1934.
2006, *^ - View showing the Art Deco entrance to Santa Anita's
grandstands. Photo by Ellen Levy Finch.
During one of our summer pilgrimages to Bass Lake, California, suffice it to say that Chuck's athletic ability afforded him a rescue of a family member. As an aside, Bass Lake forms one of the earliest memories of my life. I was five and was walking along a paved and winding utility road of a campground with my left hand clutched in my Dad's right hand.
Pictured below was the campsite we claimed in 1962. Funny to see nobody in this picture except for our gear and Dad's station wagon. Black and white and stark. No color from the Coleman stove. No color from the towels and clothing drying on the line. The trees are colorless. And still I treasure these images because these were the tools of pioneers. No one can tell the baby blue colors of the the Ford Station Wagon. 
On Saturday, July 11, 2026, Tom wrote,
I remembered, "Bass Lake." I had the best time ever at any camp spot we ever went to because the people there that had a good size boat who would take most of us one time around the whole lake which had many hidden fishing holes that just seemed like out of a Tarzan movie. I remember we were having lunch at the picnic table that the park provided and a big gopher snake crawled right under the table, like he'd done it a million times, and nobody bothered it. It must of been over 5 feet long. Chuck had the most fun because he knew how to do all the fishing. It was the greatest, Bass Lake.
