Daddy Got Mad at the Basketti

"Daddy Got Mad at the Basketti"

                                           One of the manifestations of the nook

     I was born at St.Luke's hospital in Altadena but brought home to a small house at 9400 Annetta avenue in the good old Gate. In many ways BC was always trying to distance himself from the regular Joe's who comprised the population of the city. He wanted to be better somehow and it was that drive that made him a good salesman over at J.M. Taylor Oldsmobile on Long Beach boulevard during most of the 1950's. While my Mom ran the household, like most Gate women he made some big decisions that sometimes were not good ones. I believe she picked out the furniture and perfectly 50's print wallpaper but sometimes he forced some poor ideas on her better sensibilities. Originally, the old homestead was built in 1943 as a two bedroom, one bathroom pad. Later a large master bedroom and bathroom were added on after Cheryl was born. There was a lawn in front and grass out back where a plum, fig and avocado trees grew. It was fenced in by a red brick wall and there was an incinerator at the back of the lot. This story is about the ill-advised kitchen change that took place after I was born in 1947. The floor plans for these early tract houses involved a full dining room that was only used for big sit-down meals, a front room/ entertainment room, a central full bathroom and bedrooms on each side. Meals were taken in the kitchen at a breakfast nook which was cozy, easy to use and to clean. With 5 family members the nook was too crowded so BC came up with the idea of building a kind of single-sided booth-counter like you would see in bars or restaurants. It made the family line up sideways, facing the wall or kitchen window in a row. We sat on stools that were tall for kids. I don't believe there is a single photo of this arrangement and it is only remembered for two events that took place there. When Christine was around 2 or 3 she stood up on the counter to dance, lost her balance and fell flat on her face while breaking a glass and cutting herself. This accident caused BC to utter his famous and helpless "Oh my Baby...Oh My baby...Oh my baby!" The other is probably forgotten but it made an indelible mark on my psyche about my father's temper. I would guess having four kids in the small house and being trapped in a domestic life neither parent was enjoying caused plenty of friction. My Mom had prepared a family favorite spaghetti which was nothing like the NYC spaghett BC had eaten many times in authentic red-checked table cloth Italian ristorantes. She would boil the pasta (always spaghetti) then create a sauce mostly pureed tomato from a can and hamburger with some spices, then dump the simmered sauce into the pot of noodles for mixing. We never poured what Italians called "the gravy" over the pasta. At any rate, BC was pissed and a little drunk as usual when my Mom talked back to him as we sat at the bar beginning to eat. He was sitting right in front of the side kitchen window that was never opened and was fuming. Suddenly to make his irrational point he put his hands under the plate and vigorously flipped the plate forward. To his surprise and total shock of the kids the full plate of spaghetti crashed through the window, shattering the entire pane and ended in the hedges at the side of the driveway. He stormed out, my Mom began to cry and we kids just kept eating our spaghetti. Later on Christine told me "Daddy got mad at the ba-sketti"

                                          in the beginning