Gold Lame'

I loved my afternoon jaunts to the local swimming hole at Dobbyn's Creek.

In the summer, the local unit of the California Department of Forestry at Fire Camp Hill would erect a temporary dam of gravel and rock at the base of the hill at Dobbyn's Creek bridge.  They did this as a way of providing immediate access so they could quickly fill their firetruck reservoirs for fighting fires.  A side benefit of their annual damming of Dobbyn's Creek was that they did it in such a way that the local community of Alderpoint and the surrounding area had a place to congregate for swimming and relaxing in the dry, hot California summer months.

In the afternoons, my father would drive us over Fire Camp Hill in his '63 Ford Truck.  I have many memories of sitting in the back of that truck on one of the wheel wells, soaking in the beauty and majesty of the southern Humboldt county countryside.

Aunt Margaret, one of my father's younger sisters, would sometimes take us kids to the swimming hole.

She rarely took us swimming.

I am thinking of one of the more memorable afternoon trips to Dobbyn's Creek with Aunt Margaret.

*    *    *

It was the summer of 1976.

Aunt Margaret was a devoted fan of the Ford Thunderbird.  So much so, that every few years her husband would get her a new one.  In the summer of 1976, she was driving a medium beige-toned Ford Thunderbird.  It was the model from the previous year, the 1975 Ford Thunderbird.  I do not ever remember being a passenger in that car without the windows rolled down.  Aunt Margaret smoked heavily, like her brother, my father.  I don't ever remember her without one of her favorite cigarettes between her fingers or pursed tightly between her lips.

On the day in question, Aunt Margaret was particularly giddy about heading to the swimming hole.  I watched her as she packed a delicious lunch for me and her daughters, Tina and Ila.  As she worked, she chuckled and prodded them to help her get ready.  As she readied us for the quick drive over the Fire Camp Hill, she hurriedly moved the packed items out to her Thunderbird, parked just outside the kitchen.

Earlier that morning she'd set her hair in massive pink curlers held in place with a yellow hairnet.  In this way, on this day, she looked no different than she usually looked on any given morning.  In those days, she could often be seen about town in the morning, cig dangling from the corner of her mouth, curlers and hairnet in place, shuttling her daughters to one destination or another, in one iteration or another, of the Ford Thunderbird.

She always had a Marlboro Red cigarette firmly planted between her lips.  In those days, she fancied herself with a cream-colored cigarette holder.  It wasn't one of those extra long cigarette holders like you see in the movies, this one was just a few inches in length, but it gave quite an extension to the cigarette perched on the edge of her lips.  I thought it gave her a somewhat sophisticated look, one that countered her usually utilitarian taste in clothing.  My father wasn't convinced of this image as I recall him once saying, "there Margie goes with her piss-elegant cigarette holder."

There was something different about my Aunt on this day.  

After quickly packing up the Thunderbird, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving us waiting for her in the living room.  I remember looking at the swamp cooler as we waited for her.  As noisy as it was, it sure put out a refreshingly cool breeze, a most welcoming counter to the hot, dry summer heat.

When Aunt Margaret emerged from the hallway she was wearing a billowing translucent cream-colored chiffon robe.  Underneath this robe, we could see that she was wearing a one piece bathing suit.  It was no ordinary bathing suit.  It shimmered.  It shimmered even in the dim light shining through the living room windows.  She'd removed the curlers and hairnet.  There was nothing utilitarian about Aunt Margaret's appearance today.

"Wow, Aunt Margaret, you look like a movie star," I said.

She looked at me, touching up her hair with a heavy spritz from a can of Aqua Net Hairspray.  As she finished touching up her hair with Aqua Net, she lowered the can.  Holding it firmly, she pointed it at me and pushed out a quick spritz in my direction.  With her other hand, she slowly removed the cigarette from her lips.

She smiled widely and said, "I know, right?"

She put down the can of Aqua Net on a nearby end table.  Then, she adjusted her rhinestone-rimmed cat's eyeglasses.  I loved her eyeglasses.  I wanted a pair.

She reeked of Aqua Net Hairspray and Marlboro cigs, but I didn't care.  I was in the presence of a movie star.

With one fell swoop, she grabbed my hand.  With a backward glance, she looked at her daughters and said, "girls, get into the car."

As we walked out to the car she looked at me and said, "now sweetie, I want you to sit up front with me.  Tina and Ila can sit in the backseat, okay?"  I nodded my head, yes, in reply.

I wondered if she was somehow punishing her daughters, my cousins.  They didn't say much of anything on that trip over the Hill.  Aunt Margaret, on the other hand, had smoked at least three cigarettes in all this time.  In the car she would reach over and tickle me as she simultaneously maneuvered the car, adjusting the sound on her eight-track tape deck.

She'd just purchased a new eight-track tape of her favorite country singer, Charley Pride.  On that ride, she played one of his signature hits, over and over...

cause you've got to

"Don't you just love Charley Pride, Orval?" She asked.

kiss an angel good mornin'

I replied, "I guess he's good."

and let her know you think about her when you're gone

"You GUESS he's good!?  He's the best damn singer in town, baby!"

We were on at least the fifth or sixth iteration of Charley Pride's Kiss an Angel Good Mornin' when we pulled into the shaded area next to the swimming hole at Dobbyn's Creek.

The Thunderbird was equipped with a buzzer that warned the driver if they'd left the key in the ignition.  It was still buzzing as Aunt Margaret held the driver-side door open.  She gave us instructions, "now Tina, I expect you and Ila to get that basket and towels out of the trunk.  You help them set up, okay Orval?"  Again, I nodded in agreement.

But I didn't really help my cousins.

I was transfixed by the events unfolding before me on the beach.

As Aunt Margaret walked to the beach I looked at the other people, all of whom were now looking at her as she approached them.  Behind me, I could still hear the ignition key buzzer.  Aunt Margaret hadn't closed the driver-side door in her haste to get out of the car.

To get out to her fans.

When she got to the edge of the water, she deftly set her towel down on the sand.  Seconds later, she'd slipped off that chiffon robe.

In the early afternoon California sun, the golden sheen of her one-piece gold lame' bathing suit was a truly magnificent sight.

Everyone was looking at her.

As she slowly glided into the cool waters of Dobbyn's Creek, she took care not to fully submerge herself, keeping her head clear of the water.  Her rhinestone-rimmed cat's eyeglasses only added to the shimmer of this goddess.

In that moment, I felt I was in the presence of Hollywood royalty.