Tag: “Over There”

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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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Here and There, by Gillian

Here and There 

(Or, as my mum would have said, hither and thither!)

The American doughboys marched off cheerily to World War One singing, over there, over there, the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, and we won’t come back till it’s over, over there.

By the time it was over over there, 120,000 of them could not come back. Before long the Yanks were coming once more, for the second Big One, and by the time that one was over over there, almost half a million Americans could not come back. Over there can be deadly.

There was a saying in Britain at the end of World War Two. The only problem with the Yanks is, they’re over sexed, over paid, and over here. That seems almost incredibly unappreciative of men who, almost certainly, saved Britain from being invaded by Hitler and his Nazi thugs. It is understandable, though, that returning British men felt considerable resentment. Many returned to wives raising G.I. babies, or wives wanting a divorce because this poor embattled war weary Brit. could never measure up to that beautiful boy from Biloxi with his easy charm and an apparently endless supply of chocolate, American cigarets, and ready cash. They returned to girlfriends and fiancées who had their bags packed ready for an immediate escape to join that friendly fruit farmer in Florida, or some rugged Wyoming cowboy. There and here is not always an easy mix.

I, born in Britain in 1942, sometimes have to wonder what my life would have been, had the U.S. not joined the Allies in World War Two: different, for sure. Much shorter, perhaps. Having said that, it’s difficult for me to take the stand of an isolationist. But let’s face it, since World War Two, our military forays in foreign fields have not …. well, let’s be kind and simply say, not been all that we’d hoped for. Though exactly what we had hoped for, from Viet Nam to Iraq and Afghanistan, seems pitifully unclear. Over there can be confusing.

The United States, being an immigrant country, is peopled by those who, themselves or their not too distant ancestors, came from there to here – ‘there’ being just about anywhere in the world.

Some, tragically, came involuntarily, and experienced nothing good here. But for most of us who chose to come from over there to over here, it was a good move and we found the good life here, the life we wanted. People occasionally ask me if I would ever want to move back to England, and I surprise myself by thinking, not unless I can go back to the time of my youth there. I know that’s not an honest response, even silently in my own head. That was, after all, the Britain that I chose not to remain in. Nostalgia has been so aptly described as the longing for a place and time that never was. In my heart I know that if some magical time travel were possible, and I could return to the Britain of my youth, I would return happily to the here and now, saying, with that smugness we sometimes feel on returning home from vacation,

“Great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there!”

No, my life is here and now. I’m here to stay.

© May 2015

About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.