BOOMER by Tim Engel (heaven official's blessing novel english .txt) 📖

by the huge event – Elvis being drafted into the Service. It’s a satire set in 1958. The reason I mention this is that the song helps to describe the sentiment of all adults – that kids are spoiled rotten. “ Has it always been thus? Has each generation been like this – what’s up with kids – their clothes, their music, their work ethic – or lack thereof. They don’t want to work, go to school, study, do anything. They’re lazy. That was us. But not always!
Well, as I said – Mom and Dad loved us. They gave us Schwinn Stingrays, 10-speeds, loads of toys at Christmas, good clothes, plenty of food, a roof over our heads, LOVE. It’s so funny, because I can remember very well at a young age at James Whitcomb Riley Elementary school on Sandwood St in Lakewood, CA – the baby boomers are like a pig travelling through a python. Huh? Did I hear that right? A pig…travelling through a python. Having lived all my years on Hayter Ave. In Lakewood. The largest pre-planned over night built community in the history of the world – the closest I’d gotten to a python was possibly a garden snake or a potato bug. So my teacher drew the picture on the blackboard. We had blackboards in those days; not whiteboards; not smarboards; no – chalk and slate.
Ah – so that’s what we’re talking about. As cool as it sounded to be a ‘baby boomer’ – the thought of being in a python was definitely not good. And it seemed that when being described by the ‘great generation’ - or perhaps my teacher, that it did not sound very romantic. Not glamorous, glorious, or even good. Just sounded like a lot of people. However, because we were a lot of people, it seemed like we might have some influence. Be able to make things happen – possibly even for the good! But we had problems. We tended to waste time. To use drugs and alcohol. To be self obsessing. “Here’s me, and here’s the rest of the world; revolving around…me.” Mom reminded me once of a particular moment when I threw a tantrum. Now, I suppose as kids we all threw tantrums.
We wanted candy, or a bike, or a toy (like that cool Garloo – see pic – and they DID get me one!). But oh, no! This particular fit was about something that was a bit harder to procure. It wasn’t an exotic pet like a falcon, or a horse. No, I had a fit about the moon. You heard me right. The moon. After all, I wanted that! I couldn’t help laughing at myself later in life looking back on this occasion. I had wanted some things in my life – but the moon. I guess I must have thought that it was there for the having. That all Mom and Dad had to do was plop down some hard earned cash and it would be all mine. The moon.
We were the Baby Boomer Generation. My Dad was part of the ‘Great Generation’ or the ‘GI Generation’. They were born between 1901 and 1924. They fought in WWII. Dad did fight in WWII – he was on a Destroyer in the Pacific Ocean fighting the Japanese. His ship was named the USS Gwin. They came of age during the Great Depression. Tom Brokaw gave this generation their name and wrote a book with the same title.
The Silent Generation were those born between 1925 and 1945. My Mom was born in that era – actually Mom was born in 1932. A great year. A lot of wonderful people were born that year. Great cars, too. These were considered the children of the Great Depression. This event had a great impact on their lives.


It was 3PM on a Friday. I was excited about seeing my father. He was due to be home about now. He worked at the Aircraft factory that was located about 2 miles away. This was Lakewood, California. And the factory was McDonnell Douglas.

My name is Art and my Dad’s name was Edward. He stood 6’ tall and weighed about 220 pounds. He was a chiseled physique of a man having become a weightlifter while serving in the Navy during WWII. He was a bodybuilder, a fitness buff, a powerlifter, and a gym rat. He was all of these – and to a me, he was a super hero. A super hero? Yes. Because young I loved watching cartoons depicting the Hulk, Spider Man, Super Man, and Bat Man. I was 8 years old and this was 1962. When I was on the floor and looked up at my Dad, I saw a Hulking super man…with 19” arms, a 30” waist and hair cropped short which accentuated his receding hairline.
At Joe Nista’s gym he had set records for the most pull-ups and the most bar dips. Well, what the heck does that have to do with the price of tea in China? A lot to a kid who lived in the realm of anything’s possible. Here in mid-America, here in Lakewood – tomorrow’s city today. Built over night – a suburb of Los Angeles. Lakewood sprang up nearly over night to provide good, affordable housing to the men and women who fought in WWII. The great generation. Rows and rows of houses – mostly alike – with 2 or 3 bedrooms and 1 or 2 bathrooms. And a front yard and backyard to provide some place to plant some grass…or to let the weeds grow. Wink.
My brother Tom was there with me as I waited for Dad to come home from work. After a hard week’s work at school and playing with the neighbor boys, we looked forward to seeing our Dad. Tom was 3 years older than Art…he was 11. There were several boys on the block who were the same age as Tom. Sometimes I felt out of place trying to fit in with Tom and his buddies. They were too old and sophisticated for me, I guess. But I loved my brother and I hung in there. He often allowed me to hang out with him and his buddies.
I loved my family very much. I kinda worshpped them, I guess. It seems like they could do no wrong; until me and my brother had a disagreement over something. I was always excited to see my Dad. So when we spied for him to arrive after work – there was great anticipation. Dad had a sense of humor. He enjoyed watching cartoons with us on Saturdays. The Roadrunner was one of our favorites. How cool was that – a Dad who would watch cartoons with you. And I also wanted to be with my brother when he was playing with his friends. Sometimes I would really cramp their style; hold em back from having the kind of fun or mischief they felt they deserved. Mom and I were together a lot. Especially before I went off to school. We thought we had ESP. Sometimes we would finish each other’s sentences. That kind of closeness. So when the neighbor teenagers gave Mom a hard time and she had to read them the riot act, I was really shaken by the whole event. In my 8 year old world, this was nirvana; perfection; heavenly. They all had a big impact on my life. Mom believed in me, Dad tried to get us to be responsible, and Tom was my big brother. Kind of like a bodyguard. More on that later!
Tom was tall and handsome – with dark hair and dark skin…during the summer his skin got quite dark. He was blessed with this attribute, I thought. Because I had red hair and fair skin and I ‘burned’ in the summer. I don’t know about sun scream…oh, that’s sunscreen to an 8 year old. I don’t remember having sunscream. But I do remember coppertone and baby oil. I think in the early 60’s we mainly used stuff that would burn us more. We didn’t yet know about a disappearing ozone layer, global warming, or the internet…he he he. But there were times where I really didn’t care for being a red head. I mean – ‘carrot top’ didn’t go over so well. That was one of the favorite names for red heads in those days. ‘Red headed step child’. Now – what in the heck?! Who thought that one up? Because I want to find their grandkids and sock em in the neck!! Or then there’s the famous song…”beautiful beautiful brown eyes, beautiful beautiful brown eyes; beautiful beautiful brown eyes…I’ll never love blue eyes again.” Now my eyes were green – but they weren’t brown and I thought once again that I’d missed out!
Tom and I spied the end of our street – Hayter Ave. And we looked towards the end of our street near the country club. Dad would be dropped off at the end of the street by his carpool buddies and we would race to meet him. Sure enough, a car slowed to a stop and out stepped Dad. An oak of a man. That was our Dad. We were excited to see him and raced down the street to meet him. He had a ready smile; his green eyes shining and massive arms beckoning to us. His arms were so big that he had to roll up his short sleeves so that his arms were free to move. With his short-cropped hair and tight fitting shirts and small waist, he was referred to at work as “Mr. Clean”. This was because he looked just like the man in the cleaning product commercials.
“Hi, Dad”, Tom and I said as we got close to see him. “Hi, Boys” Dad replied. We both hugged him and felt a flood of emotion as we were so happy to see him. “What are you boys up to?”, he asked. Oh, nothing. We were playing and wanted to come meet you. “Well, that’s great”, he answered. “What’s Mom up to?” She’s at home cleaning and said we could go to Bob’s Big Boy for dinner!
Bob’s Big Boy…wow! We loved going to Bob’s Big Boy. Well, it was one of our favorite places to eat. You could get the double burger with the special seasoning salt, and fries, and a silver goblet shake. All the waitresses at Bob’s had hair piled up on their heads. Tom and I called them “Hair Girls”. Hair girls not only worked at Bob’s, but also cruised Bellflower Blvd. But we’ll talk more about that later…
As super a hero Dad was – Mom was too! Her name was Evelyn and as I was to find out later in life, she was an accomplished athlete, musician, singer, and that was all before she