Tag: Lake Tahoe

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Hobbies Past & Present, by Ricky

          Not much of a story here to tell.  As a child, I had two electric trains and some track.  Both were made by Lionel.  One train was an Empire Line twin diesel-powered locomotive freight train; the other, a steam locomotive (with coal tender) was a modern passenger train (for the early 1940’s/mid 50’s.  For a long time, I was enamored of model trains and envious of those who had any kind of a train “layout”.   I never had a layout and I sold both trains at a flea-market in Tucson during my late 20’s.
          From age 8 through 13 my interest centered on assembling plastic model airplanes; specifically, warplanes from both world wars.  I loved to put them together and then play with them; having dog-fights with my 3-year older uncle and his planes.  While living on the farm with him, I received my most challenging model for a Christmas gift.  It was a scale model of the USS Constitution; Old Ironsides.  It took me many days to put that one together as it seemed to have some zillion little pieces including two decks of cannons, four masts, helm, rudder, anchors with chains, and miscellaneous rigging.  I was really proud of it when I finished.  I didn’t bother to paint any part of it as I learned that my painting skills were not worth the paint in the bottle from the disaster of painting a green plastic Japanese Zero silver.  It looked more like melting tin than silver aluminum.
          As a youth of 11 to 15, I was sort-of trying to collect little flags of countries, states, or places I visited.  Not much of a collection really.  I had one from Canada (their old-style flag); one from the US of course, and one from the Seattle World’s Fair.  The world fair flag was special as it reminded me of three of the things I saw there; the Space Needle; the “car of the future”; and a clear plastic cylinder containing one million US silver dollars (very impressive).
          Also, during that period, I worked as the attendant at a laundromat owned by my parents.  Because of the world fair experience, I began to collect silver dollars as soon as I began working there.  Unfortunately, that was the same time silver dollars were rapidly disappearing from usage at the casinos at Lake Tahoe, so I was not able to collect very many.
          No more hobbies existed until I discovered computers while attending Sacramento State College in 1966.  This hobby morphed into almost a compulsive-obsessive activity affecting me to this day.
          If reading can be considered a hobby, then I have that as one also, because I am an avid reader of books, magazines, and (because either I’m not perfect or bored a lot) junk-mail.
© 9 Feb 2011 
About the Author 
I was born in June of
1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I was
sent to live with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for
two years during which time my parents divorced.
When united with my
mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and
then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in
1966.  After three tours of duty with the
Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four
children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days
after the 9-11-2001 terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man
in the summer of 2010.   I find writing
these memories to be therapeutic.
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Here and There, by Ricky

Well, here I am. Where else would I be, over there? “Over There” reminds me of the WWI hubristic song proclaiming to the Germans and their allies that the Yanks are coming over there to finish the war. Finish it we did, not by force of arms, but by governments, over there, finally succumbing to the horrific and catastrophic amount of death – basically just agreeing to stop the killing and negotiate what turned out to be an unjust peace treaty. The same peace treaty which set the conditions making WWII inevitable to begin over there and dragging us over here into the conflict.

Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe, California

Well, here I am still in the here and now but wishing I could be back there in an earlier time – a time when I only had juvenile worries and few responsibilities – a time when I lived at The Emerald Bay Resort at Lake Tahoe in 1958. I can close my eyes and suddenly, there I am. I had no playmates there at the resort, but I still had the best time being the deckhand on my step-father’s tour boat, Skipalong. We would take people on an all-day cruise around the lake.

The Skipalong

I listened to the tour spiel my step-father, Paul, gave our passengers and quickly memorized it. I would spend most of my time in the bow “cockpit” talking to any children or adults who wanted to ride there. (The cockpit was the lookout’s station during the time the boat was used as a rum-runner in San Francisco.) I would give adults the tour spiel and talk to the kids about kid stuff.

While living at Emerald Bay that summer of ’58, I saw Jerry Colonna in the restaurant where my mother worked. She was able to meet several Hollywood stars there, because the resort was popular among the rich and famous.

Jerry Colonna

Other than seeing Jerry Colonna, my only other star sighting that I can recall from that period of time and place, I will relate to you. I was there so I am the proverbial eye witness in this case.

My step-father and I just had docked Skipalong along the resort’s pier at the half-way point of our tour so our passengers could have lunch at the restaurant. While securing the bow of the boat to the pier, I looked up and saw a family walking down the bank to the pier. The parents apparently had bought tickets to ride in the Chris Craft speed-boat, Effie Moon, which was also tied up at the pier. I immediately recognized the boy walking with his parents.

Back then and there, I faithfully watched the Mickey Mouse Club on TV. Being a boy, I loved the club’s serial shorts and the child actors within them, forming a wistful attachment to them. Oh be still my pounding heart, for there he was walking towards me, in the flesh, David Stollery III.

David Stollery III (left) & Tim Considine (right)

Of course at that time, I knew him as Marty Markham from Disney’s Spin and Marty famed series. The best thing was that he was telling his parents that he wanted to ride on the “big boat” (my boat). I was hoping he would get to ride. My fervent hope was dashed a moment later when his mother told him, “No” and he began to scream repeatedly, “I want to ride on the big boat!” I was only 10 and David was a short and small 17, but I had already learned by age 3 that yelling at one’s parents demanding to get something was not going to work; at least it never did for me.

David had to ride the Effie Moon that day, but he apparently learned the “don’t yell at your parents” lesson. He grew up to become an automobile designer with GM and Toyota. At Toyota, he designed the second generation A40 series Toyota Celica in 1978. He then continued to design 22 other models for Toyota.

But that was there and then. I am here now, but I would rather be there.

© 4 May 2015

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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The Swim by Ricky




The first time I remember swimming is when I was 1 ½ or 2 years old. My parents took me to the beach, probably a beach in the city of Hermosa Beach, California. Unfortunately, I had a bad experience there where some waves kept knocking me down. It scared me so bad that I became afraid of the water.

When I was ten, the first time I went to the beach at Zephyr Cove on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe, I got second-degree sunburn on my back and legs. Especially painful were the back of my knees. I was bed ridden for three or four days and could not go with my stepfather to help on our tour boat. I don’t know why, but mother put some type of sunburn oil on my skin. She also put vinegar on me to “cool” the burn, which worked until it evaporated. In spite of her help and the soothing effects, I really did not want her to touch me, as the pain was so great when she did so. After those experiences, I was not remotely interesting in swimming ever again. At 10, I was already a wimp.

I eventually joined the Boy Scouts and wanted to be able to swim 50 yards in order to obtain my First Class badge. Towards that end, I took a Red Cross swimming class one summer. I learned to hold my breath and swim the length of the pool while under water. I found that very fun – grabbing a breath, diving down five feet to the bottom of the pool, and then traveling the length gradually rising to the surface by the time I reached the other end of the pool. However, I could not hold my breath long enough to swim 50-yards.

One good thing that happened was that I met a boy who lived not too far from me. We walked home together and began to engage in sex play. He told me that he had seen by balls several times at the pool as they were hanging out one of my swimming suit legs a little bit. Actually, I was not wearing a swimming suit; I was using a pair of gym style shorts that were a tad too small for me. That is to say, they showed lots of leg, and apparently, some testicle. In my defense, I did not own a swimming suit then and the “gym” shorts were all I had. But after that day, I also wore underpants for the rest of the classes.

A month or two later on, my Scoutmaster tried to teach me and help me learn to swim. At one point, he asked me to float for 5-minutes; I could not. He then said to do the Jellyfish Float. I told him I do not float; I sink. Naturally, he did not believe me. So, I took three deep breaths, held the last one, bent over and grabbed my ankles, and promptly began to sink slowly to the bottom of the pool. When I stood up, he said that never saw anyone who could sink doing the Jellyfish Float. A couple of weeks later, one of our assistant scoutmasters, Jim Leamon (a game warden) was able to pass me on the swimming requirement. He worked with me for a few days using skin diving flippers to strengthen my legs and improve my coordination.

I took leave from the Air Force when my son was 3-years old. We went to some town in southern Florida and stayed in a motel that had a swimming pool. We had not put his inflatable “floaters” on his arms yet, when he just jumped into the pool. We were stunned. Before either his mom or I could move, he was paddling like crazy with only his eyes above water. That scared us, so we enrolled him in a Red Cross swimming class when we got back to the base.

My wife related that during the class, all the mothers had to wait outside the fence surrounding the pool while the class was in progress. At one point, the kids were supposed to be holding on to the edge of the pool practicing kicking their legs. Deborah looked up and there was Destin up to his eyes in water again. He had let go of the pool edge and the teenage instructors and lifeguards were not paying attention. She began screaming at them and at first they ignored her and gave her looks like “what’s wrong with you?” Finally, one of them heard what she was saying and rescued Destin before he drowned.

At the same Air Force Base, all of my then three children were on the swimming team (because it included free lessons). At their first competition, my oldest girl came in first in her race and my second oldest came in second in hers. However, poor little Destin came in last in his race. His group had to hold on to a foam flotation board and kick their way across the pool. My son was not kicking but “running” so his upper leg was greatly retarding his forward movement. It took him about 15-minutes to travel the length of the pool. I am not sure he was responsible or if the wind eventually blew him across.

As you may discern from this list of swimming tales, I may play in shallow water, but I definitely do not like to be in the swim.

© 10 September 2012 


About the Author



Ricky was born in June of 1948 in downtown Los Angeles. He lived first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach, both suburbs of LA. Just prior to turning 8 years old, lived with his grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years while his parents obtained a divorce; unknown to him.


When united with his mother and stepfather in 1958, he lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, he moved to Denver, Colorado where he lived with his wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after 9-11.
He came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. He says, “I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.”

Ricky’s story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.