Backyard Bee Stings and Broken Specs

Whoa! My brother, Mitch, just turned 73 years old. It's amazing to have a sibling that old. There are six of us siblings, oldest to youngest: Mitch, Blake, M'Lou, Mindy, and Neal. Neal is 56. Where do I fit in, you ask? Well, dang it, I'm the eldest, at 75, but don't you dare call me "elderly" just because I'm three-quarters of a century old.

Outlaw brothers Drew and Mitch in the living room of their East Aliso Street home, circa 1954. (Their dad was rocked in that same rocker when he was a baby.)

Mitch and I were the only siblings to live at our East Aliso Street home. Our parents bought the home when it was brand new in 1952. I was nine months old when we moved in. Mom, Dad, and I had that home to ourselves for close to two years before they, obviously, screwed up on whatever birth control method they were using. It was only a two-bedroom home.

So, after Mitch outgrew the bassinet in my parents' room, they had the audacity to move him into my private bedroom. I didn't dare complain, since I was getting free room and board. At least they placed two toy-boxes in our closet, one for me and one for the new occupant. It kinda bugged me (still does) that his bassinet got placed near the window while my bed got slid to an interior wall. We didn't have any AC, so that casement window was mighty fine when it was rolled open. I remember Mom giving me wet washcloths to put on my forehead or around my neck. I had to share my bedroom with Mitch until 1960. That year, Mom and Dad sold my bedroom along with the rest of their home.

We moved one street over to a rental on East Matilija Street. I continued to share a bedroom with Mitch there, but by that time I had him trained to obey all my bedroom rules. Things were going pretty dang good for Mitch and me, but our parents got too frisky. As a result, Blake and M'Lou came onto the scene to further cram that small two-bedroom home.

Things freed up for me in late summer of 1963, when we all moved into the new four-bedroom home our parents had built on South Rice Road in Mira Monte. I got my own private bedroom again for a few years, even though Mindy and Neal joined the family there. Hey, this article is supposed to be about more of my adventures on East Aliso Street. Let me drag my story back there, beginning with the next paragraph. Several of my English teachers at Matilija Junior High School and Nordhoff High School told me I'm too windy when I write. What the heck did they know?

Drew hamming it up in his East Matilija Street bedroom on December 9, 1961, at ten and a half years old. Note the World map in the background, the one his dad mounted and hung on Drew's bedroom wall a few years earlier, when they lived on East Aliso Street.

I don't recall how old Mitch and I were at our East Aliso Street home, but one year our parents bought us maps. Dad mounted them on big pieces of masonite board, then framed them before hanging them on our bedroom walls. Mine was on the wall right next to my bed: a World map, and a very, very cool one. Mitch's was only of Africa, covered in African animals. Mom and Dad figured he'd dig on it, being he was younger than me and, obviously, not yet a Man-of-the-World like myself. I don't think Mitch ever really liked that map much. It had a colorful drawing of a wildebeest on it. I always thought it resembled Mitch. Now that he's older, he really looks like one!

It doesn't matter how old all of us siblings get, I'm convinced my little brothers and little sisters were placed on this Earth for me to tease. I mean, what are they good for other than my teasing pleasure and amusement?

Mike Payton, Next Door

A few days ago, my nearly lifetime buddy, Mike Payton, called to harass me about turning 75. Mike likes to remind me I'm about four and a half months his elder. Mike was already living on East Aliso Street when I moved there in 1952. The lot between my home and his had yet to be built upon, so we were next-door neighbors until a year or two later, when a home was built between us. We hung out together a lot back in those days of the 1950s.

Left to right: Drew, Mike Payton, Sandy Payton, Mitch, and Steve Church on Halloween 1956, standing on the Mashburns' front porch.

I began wearing spectacles in 1957, at about six years old. I'm pretty sure Mike was already sporting them. I may be older than Mike, but the lenses in his specs were thicker than mine. Mike and I were tight buds, but we'd agitate each other sometimes to the point of fist fights. Actually, it was more like slapping and shoving. The winner was usually declared by one of us breaking the other's glasses. Usually a temple snapped off at the hinge, or the nose-piece cracked, and then one or both of us would be sporting our glasses held together with big old wads of that white, first-aid type tape. I remember breaking Mike's ("Mikey" back in the day) specs one time when we tangled outside his front door, under the carport. Mike went into his home, and I went home. It wasn't long before I returned to Mike's. I knocked on the door. Betty (Mike's mother) answered. I asked if Mike could come out and play with me. Betty told me, "No, Drew. Mikey can't come out to play with you for a while." I remember not feeling good that I'd broken Mike's glasses by fighting with him. I'll bet the only reason his mom wouldn't let him come back out is that she hadn't taped up his glasses yet, and with those super thick lenses, he couldn't hardly see to play.

Here's another bit of trivia about Mike. Eventually, a home was built on the vacant lot between our homes. The second owners of it were Nona and Jerry Kingsbury. When they moved in, they hauled their boys Dale, Rick, and Mark with them. After they'd lived there a while, they produced Linda. Don't ask me why, but the Kingsburys' front lawn had more burr clover growing in it than Mike's or mine. In spring into summer, their lawn had thousands of burr clover flowers in it, which was great, because it attracted bees. Mark was (still is) a year younger than Mike and me. The three of us, Mitch, and a couple of our other buds would be running around barefooted. Brace yourself and remember, boys will be boys: we'd stomp on the bees that were on the flowers with our feet. None of us got stung, because we used our thickly calloused heel pads. Guess who invariably got stung first and went running home crying? Mike, of course. He'd miss with his heel and get stung somewhere else on his tender foot. I suspect it was those thick spectacle lenses that threw off his aim. Go figure.

Mitch and Drew, May 1960. Their mom wrote on the back of this photo, "Boys and Bubbles.

Mike's dad, Dick, was one fun-loving individual. Here's an example. One day, Dick, Mike, and I were lying on our backs in the middle of Dick and Betty's living room floor. Don't ask me why, but there were several houseflies on the ceiling. Dick had armed us with a bunch of rubber bands, and had us shoot at the flies. We hit a bunch of them and splattered those suckers all over the ceiling. Man, it was fun! That is, until Betty came home and caught us in the act. She made Dick aware that she was not the least bit happy with him about keeping Mike and me entertained in that particular manner

A few years later, I was invited to the Paytons' for a barbecue. I may not have been living on East Aliso Street anymore. I'm thinking I was probably around 11 to 13 years old. Anyway, Dick was in his backyard barbecuing a big old steak of some sort for his family and me. Mike and I showed up, so he called us over. Dick told us the steak was probably about done and wanted us to help him "test" it. He cut off three pieces for the three of us, and we all tested those pieces. I guess we weren't quite sure the steak was barbecued enough, so Dick left it on the coals a couple more minutes and announced the three of us should test it again. We did. In fact, Dick had Mike and me keep testing it with him until the steak no longer existed. Again, Betty was not home at the time Dick pulled off this caper. When she did get home, she chewed him out pretty good. Dick just sorta chuckled and started queuing up another steak. Mike is 74 years old presently. He acquired his dad's wonderful playfulness and sense of humor. I sure hope his wife is happy about that.

More Neighborhood Mayhem

Mark's home was immediately east of mine. Mike's home was immediately east of Mark's. The Churches' home was immediately east of Mike's. The Church kids were Sharon, Susie (Mike's and my age), and Steve (a.k.a. Church Mouse). If I recall correctly, Steve was my little brother Mitch's age. I know he hung out at our home a bunch. Anyway, back in the 1950s, you could buy baby alligators at the Ventura County Fair. All of us kids on East Aliso Street knew the Churches' dad, Alex, had bought one. They kept it inside their home, in their bathtub. Every so often, a few of us neighborhood kids would pack up and head to the Churches' to take a gander at their alligator. I don't recall it having much girth, but it was about two and a half feet long the last time I saw it, with a mouthful of some gnarly teeth. I remember Susie and Steve growing up and attending local schools with the rest of us until we all graduated and went various ways. Now that I think back on it, I have no idea whatever became of Sharon. You don't suppose she got too close to the alligator, do ya?

I mentioned Mark Kingsbury. Here's a bit of trivia about him. His home had a covered front porch, its floor about two and a half feet higher than the front lawn, with a three-foot-tall wood railing across the front. In front of the porch and railing were two or three big rose bushes. Mark (about five years old) and I (about six) got it into our heads that it would be quite daring and loads of fun to go up onto the porch, climb the railing, then jump over the rose bushes and land on the soft lawn. We did this a bunch of times before Mark slipped and fell into the roses and became a human pincushion. I remember him sorta laid out in there before he tumbled onto the front lawn. He got up pretty quickly, bloodied, and went up the steps into his home. I went home, but, like I'd done with Mike, returned a bit later to Mark's. I knocked on the door. His mom answered. I asked if Mark could come out and play. Nona said, "No, Drew. Mark won't be able to play for the rest of the day." I'll bet anything, being that I'm older now, that she figured I'd come up with the adventurous (stupid, to most folks with at least half a brain) idea of bailing off the porch. By the way, Mark wound up becoming a firefighter locally. In fact, I believe he may have retired as a battalion chief. I'm thinking he must've wised up over the years.

Left to right: Drew, Mark Kingsbury, and Mitch in the Mashburns' backyard, summer 1960.

Don't ask me where Mitch and I acquired the capital, or how we even agreed to spend it on the same thing, but we purchased a blue plastic, eight-foot-diameter pool a couple of feet deep. This was during the summer of 1960. I was nine years old and Mitch was seven. We assisted Dad with setting it up on the concrete patio in the backyard. I'm sure Dad didn't want it on his lush, green lawn. It woulda burned his precious pride and joy of a lawn, setting the pool there. The very first day we used it, our next-door neighbor, Mark, joined us in splashing it up and having a good ol' time staying cool while also soaking in the sun. Mitch and I were pretty fair-skinned. Dang, Mark tanned up well. I don't recall if Mitch got sunburned or not, but I got fried. I remember being so sunburned I couldn't bend my legs without excruciating pain the next day. I laid in bed for two or three days, then began crawling about the house. I was miserable. I don't recall there being any sunscreen with SPF protection back in those days. From that experience, suntan lotion, then sunscreen, became dear friends of mine.

Oh, hey, back to Dick Payton. He was employed by Combs Welding, which used to be in the brick building on the other side of Ojai Avenue from Sea Fresh Restaurant. Back in the day, Sea Fresh wasn't there. The Hitching Post was in its spot. Nevertheless, Dick operated a tractor with a front-end loader (bucket) and a backhoe for the Combses. Sometimes he'd drive the tractor home and give us East Aliso Street kids a ride in the bucket, driving slowly down the street while raising and lowering it. It was like a carnival ride.

I hope you get the idea that living on East Aliso Street for the eight and a half years I did was some of the absolute best, hands-down wonderful times of my childhood. There are so many more stories I could tell you about living there. And maybe I will. Stay tuned.

COVER: Brothers Drew (eight years old) and Mitch (six years old) on the front porch of their East Aliso Street home, about to attend their first day of school in September 1959. Drew was entering third grade and Mitch first grade, both at Topa Topa Elementary School.