All in the Family

When my train arrived in Alhambra, I didn’t have to look for my uncle; he spotted me quickly. With so many other females in naval uniform buzzing around, I asked how he could tell who I was. He said, “By your Lindsley look.” I thought that strange, for most of the Lindsleys had dark hair. Other than one half-uncle, I was the only blonde I could think of in the family. Then he added, “Your carriage. The way you stand, the way you walk.” I said, “I thought that was just military.” “No, I think it is pride.” Well, I was indeed proud to have served my country in the Navy. But I don’t think he meant that. Yes, there were some in the family who showed a great deal of pride and others in the family who resented that. Oh, well . . .

It was dinner time, so Uncle Hal and I ate dinner at Mike Lyman’s. I don’t recall now if it was in Alhambra or in Monrovia, where he lived and where, it turned out, he was the City Manager. His wife was an invalid and had a live-in care giver, so Uncle Hal was free to spend some time with me. At Mike Lyman’s we were immediately seated at a table with a “reserved” sign on it in the middle of the room. He told me he brought his wife in her wheelchair to dinner there one night a week, every week, and this was their table. I thought that great of him. How many men would do that? And how many wives in wheelchairs would want to do that? The rest of the place was full of diners. Just off the train, I needed to freshen up a bit and asked to be excused for a few minutes and would he order for me. He said, “Do you like roast beef?” I said, “Yes.” That night I ate my first really rare roast beef and liked it.

My father’s youngest brother, Uncle Hal had gone west as a young man and seldom came back to visit the family in the South. Perhaps his generation of relatives kept up on his whereabouts and news over the years but I had not. At one point, he said, “So you were the one in your generation to come west. I was the one in mine.” My sojourn in the West, of course, had been only a brief one, and I never dreamed then I’d be back to stay.

Uncle Hal showed me his orange groves and his stables. He had a matched pair of Palominos, as well as several other horses. He said the movie people always wanted to use his horses in their productions, but he said no, for he thought horses were treated too roughly in the action. He did allow his horses to be used by one actor. Bill Elliott, I think it was, for Elliott saw the animals got good treatment. If this was the famous Wild Bill Elliott, I never knew. If so, B-Westerns. Perhaps it takes rough handling of horses to rate an A.

Uncle Hal also showed me the Rose Bowl, where every New Year’s Day he rode in the Sheriff’s Posse, leading the parade. He showed me his uniform. It was olive drab, with a huge rose-colored rose, embroidered in satin stitch on the back of the shirt, expertly creased across the shoulders. He also gave me an 8x10 photograph of himself, in uniform, on one of the Palominos.

Eventually I boarded the train again, to head for New Orleans, Memphis, and then home.

♥