Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
It was a somber morning as we listened to several radio programs while traversing SoCal on our never-ending errands. We recalled where we were 25 years ago on this fateful day in history and thought about the crazy changes those crazy religious fanatics caused. I hope they are rotting in hell!
Errands, you say! Yes! The first stop was the El Pachuco Zoot Suit Shop in Fullerton.
In Spanish, “pachuco” refers to a Mexican or Mexican-American youth subculture, especially from the 1930s–1940s, often associated with zoot suits, slang, and a distinctive rebellious style.
Depending on context, pachuco can mean:
- A young Mexican/Mexican-American man with flashy style, especially a zoot suit
- Someone who speaks or uses Caló, a Mexican-American slang
- Sometimes, informally or negatively, a streetwise guy, troublemaker, or gang-associated youth
It’s strongly tied to Chicano history and culture, especially in places like Los Angeles and the U.S.–Mexico border region.
We had an 11:00 am appointment and arrived early, so we did the proper thing: we went to the donut store down the block and celebrated with donuts and a drink! We awaited the owner’s arrival and read the signage around the building.
Once inside, the owners, along with help from Mary, transformed me from an old white guy into a Chicano in a matter of minutes. One look in the mirror, and I swear I could have been speaking Spanish right along with Vicky!
Msry had a ball looking at the “add-ons,” including ties, hats, shoes, and chains.
So I had everything I needed, and conveniently there was a tailor next door. The owner said, “Just go next door, and he will mark it up.” I started out the door when she yelled at me! “Gringo! There are laws in this city about indecent exposure!” I had no idea what she meant until she asked me to take my jeans with me, or otherwise I would be coming back in my undies, a sight no one driving a car should see! We all had a good laugh!
After returning to the shop and getting dressed (i.e., putting on my shirt and shoes), I spotted another suit which may be more my style. I may change my name to “Flame”.
The owners were both there and very helpful in guiding Mary in picking out ties, chains, suspenders, switchblades, etc. We walked out of the establishment with bags of goodies. Mary has been wanting me to do this for three years, and I finally succumbed!
OK, now we head south with a quick stop at the house or apartment at 1:00 in Baja California, near a place Mary wanted to visit, sometimes called Irvine. That appointment was fairly quick, and we realized we had time to spare, but NOT for long.
Mary has been wanting to stop at a specific jewelry store in Huntington Beach, so off we went in a cloud of dust! Mary did her business, and then we headed home for a few minutes before going to dinner at Dru’s lovely home. We stopped at Ralph’s and got some fresh flowers, and I added some champagne and some two-buck-chuck, now known as four-buck-chuck.
When we saw Dru on Thursday night, we mentioned that my longtime friend and golf buddy, James, would be joining us with Carol. I was looking forward to seeing him again and getting the latest scoop on him and Miss Carol! 5:10 pm, it was off to Dru’s home, just up the street.
When Mary and Paul arrived at Dru’s house for what she called “serious Southern cooking,” they found her friend Harry guarding the stove like a tiny sheriff. James and Carol were already at the table, fanning themselves with napkins and whispering prayers over the smells.
We learned how to love Opossum Grits! We also found out the Okra was fresh as Dru shot them this morning.
Then Dru carried out the pork chop. It was not a pork chop so much as a delicious doorstop. Paul stared at it and said, “Was the pig named Big Tex?” Mary claimed it had its own zip code. Harry tried to measure it with a ruler, gave up, and suggested a yardstick.
The fried okra came next, golden and crackly and piled so high it looked like a vegetable avalanche. Carol took one bite and announced she had heard angels wearing cowboy boots. James said he would marry the okra if Carol didn’t object. Carol said she might object, but only because she wanted custody.
Meanwhile, the wine flowed politely at first, then enthusiastically. Soon everyone was laughing too loudly, passing plates and posing for ChatGPT images. They asked for Paul as a Southern senator, Mary riding a giant okra, Dru as Queen of Gravy, Harry as a biscuit cowboy, and James and Carol wrestling the pork chop in formalwear.
By dessert, everyone was stuffed, silly, and slightly glazed. Dru raised her glass and declared, “That’s how we cook down here.” Paul nodded, patted the chop, and said, “Good meal. Great architecture.” Mary laughed so hard she nearly snorted okra into her wine glass.
He said he was framed!
Speaking of being framed!
We all jabbered for a while before dinner was served. Harry joined us, making our dinner a party of six! Any and every topic under the sun was dealt with in a professional, although slightly inebriated, fashion thanks to Dru’s bottomless wine cabinet!
Dru is known for being an excellent cook, and it’s amazing how she stays so slim! She brought our fried okra as a starter, followed by a pork chop the size of Detroit, along with green beans and potatoes! Wow, after a few bites, I was speaking Spanish with a Southern accent.
We talked about the military, as both James and Harry served (Mary was in the kitchen helping Dru). James was a radio man, and to this day he can effortlessly play AM, FM, and FM stereo using both the tuning and volume controls. Harry was a grunt with great stories!
James and I caught up on all the latest Old Ranch gossip! Who is still there, who has moved on, etc. We talked about our mutual girlfriend, Charlotte.
We shared stories of growing up, and James told the best one, especially about riding the freight trains up and down the line and getting caught by the Railway Cops!
Caroll and James are getting along well and, in fact, are going to join us at the Elks Halloween Party on October 31st. James could be a golfer, a Beast, or a jailbird since he already has the costumes.
Carol can go as Belle!
Carole told James that if he didn’t go, she would have a bone to pick with him! We were NOT sure what that meant, but after careful reflection, James better go!
We had a fantastic time and left with several “action items,” which is corporate-speak for “things we’ll remember right before they’re due.”
Then we departed for home, a grueling six-minute journey that tested our endurance, navigation skills, and ability to stay awake after amazing food.
Once home, we promptly collapsed like overfed royalty, because tomorrow we’re back on the move again!
