"UPPER LEFT EDGE-
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NUMBER.
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UPPER LEFT COAST PRODUCTIONS > P O BOX 4222. CANNON BEACH 0 « KMO *> 503 * 3 6 2 ^ 5 A b h u lh e p X ifie r.c o m *
UWU.upperkVUy.cow
It is never too late
to give up your prejudices.
— Henry David Thoreau
Downloading Arizona
Concluded
Temporary Tempe
After being forced back on the freeway to Needles, we
checked the map (1972 National Geographic) and decided we
would follow the Colorado river along the California /Arizona
border on the Arizona side. (You can smoke in bars in
Arizona) We eventually found ourselves in Lake Havasu
where there are no buildings over thirty years old, and, if you
want, you can see the London Bridge. We didn’t want. You
can also see the banks of the once mighty Colorado River
turned into lakefront property for folks with too much money
in their pockets and time on their hands.
“How many forks to Phoenix?” Mike asked. This might
sound like an odd question, but when we were eating the first
night in Grants Pass we discovered that the average fork was
the equivalent of forty miles on our map’s scale. So using a
fork like a navigator would use a compass we could quickly
measure the miles. We decided to crash outside of Phoenix
because it was at least one fork too much for Mike. We
stopped at the local Motel 6, and in this case it was six ten
dollar bills, not six ones for a night’s lodging. Broker and
wiser, the next morning we rolled into Tempe. Tempe is a
University town. Our Microtel was on University Ave. Its
swimming pool was about the size of Personal Assault
Vehicle but it didn’t take Mike long to take up residence with
his cigarettes, suntan lotion and Elmore Leonard paperbacks. I
put in a call to the one person I knew in Tempe. A young
woman I had met at Bill’s one evening.
Like a lot of older gentlemen I have been known to glance
at an attractive younger woman upon her entrance at the local
tavern. This woman required more than a glance on my part.
She was attractive, yes, but not as they say drop-dead
beautiful, a slight figured short haired blonde woman wearing
glasses and comfortable clothing. I felt like a good friend
whom I had never met had just walked in. And sure enough
she sat down on the empty barstool next to me and ordered a
garden burger. Feeling as I do, that we here in Cannon Beach
should be friendly to all of our guests, I said something witty
and intelligent like, “Come here often?” She gave me that
indulgent but disappointed look that young women save just
for old fools, but then smiled and said she used to visit
Cannon Beach with her family, and had decided to stop off on
her way south. “Arizona,” she answered when I asked another
profound question. I just about blurted out, “Tempe?” but held
my tongue, deciding perhaps I should put more thought into
my questions since I was several barley pops to the wind.
“Tempe, actually,” she said. So then I smiled and we stopped
sparing, and started talking. She told me her name, and why
she was going to Tempe, and neither one of those is any of
your business. And then we talked some more and she
finished her burger, and we talked some more, until she finally
said, “Well, I’ve got to get back on tlie road.” I put out my
hand and said it was a pleasure. She took out a notebook and
said, “Can I have your address?” Well, I wrote my address,
phone number, e-mail address and web site address, and was
trying to remember my social security number while she wrote
down her address and phone number in Tempe.
I wrote her and called, and started sending her the paper, and
she called back and I said I was coming to Tempe for Spring
Training, and bringing Uncle Mike, and would like her to meet
him. She said she would like me to meet her new boyfriend.
So, I called her, and she had the flu and said maybe we
could get together in a day or two. That left only one option.
Long Wong’s. On our last visit to Tempe ten years before a
young woman took Mike & I to Long Wong’s, a bar whose
motto was, “Real people having real fun.” It’s a small,
friendly place that has live music every night and as good a
staff as you could ask for. The current manager, a woman
named Sara from Texas, has been there for nine years, and the
bouncer was the same guy who was there ten years ago,
always a good sign. I always feel better when I walk into a
bar, if the bartender is a little wary, and gives me that look
that says, “You are welcome to drink here, but we aren’t going
to have any trouble, are we?" I’ve found that with a strange
bartender it is best to tip as soon as you are served your first
drink. (And always remember Uncle Mike’s Motto: If it
doesn't fold, it’s not a tip.”) Sensing that I was harmless the
staff became friendly, and Long Wong’s became my bar of
choice in Tempe. Oh, it’s true I did wander about and Mike
did drag me into the local Hooters, because as he said, “We’re
on vacation, and no one we know will see us.” Let it be said
here, that as one who respects women, and has fought for the
equal rights amendment, it was a little embarrassing.
Especially when what looked like a grandfather, son and
grandson (age ten or so) sat down next to us. The grandfather
was looking bored, the grandson was looking as embarrassed
as I was, and the son was, well just looking.
The woman who was obviously managing the waitresses
was probably in her early thirties, attractive, (he said,
redundantly) and seemed to have skills that would arouse envy
in a Marine drill sergeant. I sipped my beer and watched the
waitresses work the room, which was filled with (surprise!)
mostly men. Yes, they smiled, leaned over tables, made
grown men blush and stammer, and were leered at as they
walked about in their push-up or Wonder Bras. It made me
wonder who was being exploited by whom. After I finally
dragged Mike out to the street, it was back to Long Wong’s
for me. I somehow prefer live music to scantily clad women.
Mike headed back to the pool to rest for tomorrow’s baseball
game, his first in ten years.
The day dawned bright and sunny, the tem|)erature was
climbing, and we were barely awake when Mr. Logan arrived
with Janea in tow. They had flown down for our Tuesday
poker game on Ron’s part, and Cubs baseball on Janea’s part.
She is even more of a Cubs fan than I am. She knows Mark
Grace, she has sat on Harry Caray’s lap, and she can keep
score. Needless to say we get along famously. After a short
drive that took a long time because the closer you got to the
stadium the more it looked like a slowly moving parking lot,
we arrived at Ho Ho Kam, the new springtime home of the
Chicago Cubs. Ten years ago on our last visit the stadium
was the kind of Triple A ballpark you would expect to see in
Eastern Washington or South Carolina, an aging wooden
structure with grass berms beyond the outfield fences, filled
with folks on blankets drinking beer and burning their winter
white bodies to a crisp. The new stadium is all concrete and
has tons of bathrooms and concessions, and a VIP hospitality
suite, and fancy scoreboard, and a Cubs store where I went
immediately to buy two hats, one for me and one for the
Professor. (Don’t ask, I would never tell a man’s hat size.
It’s much too personal, and in some cases very embarrassing.)
Then, as Ron, Janea and a surly Uncle Mike went off to find
the seats, I went to the VIP window to collect my press
credentials. Yes, as I have already explained to the IRS, this
was all work for me. The sticker I put on the back of my
laminated Upper Left Edge Press Pass said “Good for
admittance to CLUBHOUSES * FIELD * PRESS BOX *
MEDIA DINING ROOM ONLY'." NO Autographs * Not
Transferable. Subject to Conditions. Ah, the joys of owning
a newspaper. It was dated March 14th, Einstein’s birthday. I
wandered up to the Press Box, but didn’t take out my clip
board to take notes; most of the guys there were either typing
on their laptops or talking on their cell phones or both. Pretty
boring. I decided to find the others and enjoy the game.
When I got to the aluminum bleacher seats blazing in the
sun, and finally spotted Mike’s Panama sticking out amongst
the Cubs hats, it was already the third inning, and even though
it was barely one in the afternoon Mike was clutching a cold
beer. “Remember Bakersfield,” I said, “You asked me to
remind you.” He meekly handed over the beer, which to my
delight turned out to be Bud. Ron and Mike are, to put it
mildly, not baseball fans. Mike came along just for the pool
time, and Ron was here for poker. That left Janea and I to
coach them on what was going on and why it was important
It didn’t do much good - they became very cranky by the
seventh inning and couldn’t seem to understand why there was
no time limit on this game. Well, to make a painfully long
story short, the Cubs lost, and we headed for the Resort where
Ron and Janea and the Cubs were staying. We were at a
motel, and they were at a resort because they have real jobs and
credit cards. After slipping into a Gin and Tonic, and watching
Mike order several Jack Daniels, (he pointed out to me that I
was only to remind him about drinking beer, damn it!) Janea
and I decided we would leave them to their own devices and go
to the game together tomorrow. After the cheering died down,
we settled in for dinner and a few more libations
The following day Bob had arrived, and when we met them
for coffee and bloody Mary s in the morning it was decided that
while Janea and 1 were at the game the three of them would
take a side trip to the desert and see some place called Apache
Lake Janea and I had a lovely time, yelling, screaming,
watching Sammy Sosa hit home runs, drinking beer,
chatting with other fans. A truly wonderful day. So when we
got back to the bar at the Resort we were contentedly smiling
when three specters of death sat down. Their eyes were
bugging out and Mike was muttering over and over, “One
thousand feet down. No guard rail, one thousand feet down, no
guard rail .”
W A S H IN G T O N & O R E G O N C O A S T S
1999 Corrected for PACIFIC BEACHES
LOW JUNE
HIGH JUNE
DATE
DAY
DOTS'"
GUIOE
AM
IIME
1 Tues • 1:45
2 Wed • 2:18
3 Thur • 2:55
4 fri • 3:37
5 Sat • 4:26
6 SUN • 5:27
7 Mon . 6:43
8 lues • 8:05
9 Wed • 9:22
10 Thur • 10:30
11 Fri • 11:33
12 Sat • 12:31
13 SUN •
14 Mon• 0:46
15 Tues # 1:35
16 Wed# 2:24
17 Thur# 3:15
18 Fri • 4:09
19 Sat • 5:08
20 SUN# 6:14
21 M o n # 7:25
22 Tues# 8:37
23 Wed# 9:43
24 Thur • 10:42
25 F ri • 11:34
26 Sat • 12:22
27 SUN •
28 Mon . 0:14
29 Tues • 0:49
30 Wed • 1:25
FI
8.5
8.4
8.2
7.9
7.6
7.1
6.7
6.5
6.6
6.9
7.2
7.4
9.8
9.6
9.3
8.8
8.1
7.4
6.8
6.3
6.1
6.1
6.3
6.5
6.7
8.5
8.5
8.4
P M
TIME
3:26
4:06
4:48
5:32
6:20
7:11
802
8:52
9:40
10-26
11:12
11:59
1:26
2:20
3:12
403
4:53
5:44
6:35
7:26
8:16
9:02
9:45
10:25
1102
11:38
106
1:48
2:28
306
FT
70
7.0
6.9
7.0
7.1
7.4
7.7
8.1
8.7
9.1
9.5
9.7
7.6
7.7
7.8
7.8
7.7
7.7
7.7
7.8
7.9
8.0
8.2
8.3
8.4
8.5
6.8
7.0
7.0
7.1
AM
FT.
TIME
P M
TIME
FT.
8:56 0.6 8:45 2.9
9:29 0.5 9:24 3.0
10:03 0.3 1007 3.1
10:42 0.1 10:57 3.1
11:26 0.1 11:57 3.0
1:07
2:18
3:25
4:26
5:22
6:15
7:06
7:56
8:45
9:33
10:21
11:08
11:57
0:34
1:41
2:47
3:47
4:40
5:27
6:09
6:49
7:27
8:02
8:36
2.7
2.1
1.3
0.3
0.6
•1.3
■1.8
■2.0
•2.0
■1.7
•1.2
0.7
0.0
2.3
2.0
1.6
1.1
0.5
0.0
0.4
0.6
0.8
0.8
0.8
12:17 0.4
1:15 0.8
2:15 1.0
3:15 1.3
4:12 1.5
506 1.7
6.00 1.9
6:53 2.0
7:46 2.1
8:39 2.2
9:33 2.3
10:30 2.4
11:30 2.4
12:48 0.6
1:41 1.1
2:35 1.6
3:27 1.9
4:16 2.2
502 2.4
5:46 2.6
6:28 2.7
709 2.8
7:49 2.8
8:28 2.8
AM TIDES
• BIGGER THE DOT - BETTER THE FIS H IN G *
P M TIDES
LITE TYPE
DAYLIGHT TIME
BOLD TYPE
It seems the lake they visited was accessed only by a narrow
gravel road that wound through the mountains. “Worse than
Boonville!” Mike said when his eye finally began to focus,
“much worse.” Bob, being a little more mature, was able to
laugh about it now that they were safe in the friendly confines
of a bar. According to Ron the only tiling that saved them
was the fact that he had rented a four wheel drive personal
assault vehicle “That is one of the few roads that they are
justified on, and there they should be mandatory,” he
mumbled, his hand still shaking enough to make the ice in his
drink tinkle.
Janea and I and the bartender were finally able to calm them
down enough to turn their thought to the poker game. Since
we still only had four players we put in a desperate call to
Bill’s Tavern and threatened Darrin's life if he didn’t get on a
plane that minute, but alas to no avail He had some dumb
excuse about work and poverty. The game was typical, I lost.
The next night we took Bob’s car, a fancy while convertible,
and had dinner at a fancy restaurant because Lynn, Professor
I jndsey’s niece, was working there. We surprised her, and
made her wait on us, and generally acted like tourists. I really
don’t think our behavior that night has anything to do with the
fact that she no longer works there
Did I mention that it was Spring Break in Tempe? The
college town was even more full of college kids than usual,
(continued on page 5)
BASEBALL
A quarter of the way into the season, Sosa has a
quarter of the homeruns he hit last year, and the
Cubs are in second place in their division. They just
got a veteran reliever and our pitching is looking
good - could this be the year? Go Cubbies!!!
g
UFT fcb&E 3UNE
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