Off the highway, past some commercial stores, and then... into Glendora! I love that name of the town, very nice and beautiful, probably like Fontana, Medora, and Yorba Linda, all really pretty names. Although Yorba Linda has a bad history and name put to it, which I'll get to later. Anyway, it was still a small town, no skyscrapers or taxis in sight, so Mom in the front seat, window down, taking pictures, was glad in that regard. We cruised down the main street with the nice glass paneling on each side and the buildings, brick and stone, right off the street. Here were cute names of places, little antiquey barber shops and gift stores, and a host of a few restaurants, plus a really old high rectangle movie theater, those old kinds with the really massive metal things attached to it. Then, on the right side, there was a little path between two sides to the door and also a lot of trees and plants in this courtyard, amazingly pretty ferns and ivy and groves. Passing by in the jeep with the brown leather we then headed to the suburban homes, all the houses, passing by a grey church with steps down to a basement entrance, right on a corner and intersection where we saw another street with homes too. I was about to see the house my Mom lived in as a toddler!
All the way in California!
The houses were trodden by trees, occasionally rays of sunlight making it down through their enormous boughs. The houses were mostly one floor wooden or brick, but now and then there was a beautifully built stone one on the right or left. It was a small neighborhood, but it still was interesting. Passing the sidewalks and then down a couple of more streets, Mom kept a look out for her house. After a few minutes, Mom, vaguely remembering the second, saw it. It was white below and blue lining on the top, with crystal and blue double windows and a white rock plaster. One side was more puffed out and fatter than the other, and there was a fairly sized yard in front, with three planted trees and an oak to the left. The roof was adobe, but Mom said someone had added that on and there's wasn't the adobe there when she lived there. Out in front of the door were little statues and flowers and roses and such, giving the yard a very happy feel. Down to the right was a little parking area, new pavement with a garage past a rose bush. Further to the right was a little gravel and some green palm trees. We took several pictures from the jeep, and a family one without Dad in the street in front of it. The people living there probably thought us to be stalkers.
Mom was really glad that it was still there and spiced out tales of her childhood as best as she could remember it, especially when she came back as a teenager and stayed with the Abrahamsons's, her childhood friend's family, that Meg girl. Mom was still trying to contact her and see if she was in the area, and pick a day. We saw their house, high up on a hill, and Mom told more stories about playing around, seeing old women as witches, and Halloween, all from her older brother's memories, not necessarily hers. The house had this huge scary tree and was up on a hill, white plaster and fairly ugly, with the tree and the appearance of the one floor house. It still looked cool. The branches were low to the ground and all spread out immensely. Passing by this, we went to a brick one floor school with big field separated by a gate and the Margaret Sellers School sign, a school that Mom's brothers went to. This was really really cool, seeing all her childhood spots from her being a toddler, a whole country away from where she lives now. It seems like a different dimension or something, actually. We made our way back on the main street after seeing all this stuff, and parked in a parking lot on the street as we walked down to an Irish place.
It had green decorations everywhere, a lot of gold pots and leprechauns. That may of been because Saint Patrick's Day was fast approaching. It had nice wooden tables and fairly big menus, and I got a Reuben or a vegetable soup, sitting by a window looking out to the right of the entryway. I went to the restroom where a big, illustrated and colorful map of Glendora was. I took a picture of it but lights got in the way. There were street names and tiny caricatures by the businesses. Mom later told me as I showed her it that there was one of Roswell we had with the studio on it. That's pretty interesting. Back to my seat I ate the delicious food, and Mom decided she wanted to go into a trinket shop to see a cool sweater or shirt about Glendora. Sadly we left Dad alone and I joined them. Going down the street a little more we found a store of old plates, perfume, and clothes, but she said all the souvenirs were either across the street or not in this part of Glendora. Across the street, walking across the sleepy not car-filled lane, we went sharply up the road, walking on the concrete and passing that neighborhood street. She said the place where it was was the Vistor's Center, but it looked unopened. Up a step in this old odd white Victorian building, I walked in but they said they didn't have souvenirs of our kind. I mean, they had some, but not many shirts. Mom said there was no more reason of this goose chase, and we stood by that stone church in front of the sign by the street waiting for Dad to pick us up.
We were talking a little, and then it happened. A small black and brown wiener dog approached, and started snarling and barking of maximum proportions, and starting chasing after me when I ran down to the two basement windows that had a staircase path going to it. They were barred. I ducked and weaved, bobbed and all that, trying to avoid the sinister beast, and Rebecca and Mom stood there laughing at my frightened antics. It eventually went down the path and looked at some plants. Man I have to tell you that dog may have been little, but it could of bitten my pants off if it came too close. Dad later after numerous calls and the locating of us came over in the jeep, and we got in and buckled up. Mom remembered a strong memory of going to a place called Frostie's a lot in her childhood, so we did the GPS and then drove to the white building with burgers and homemade ice cream that didn't taste like Ben and Jerry's or Blue Bell or any of the other ones, but better. I didn't have any, and sat in the car with Dad and read my Ireland book. When they came back and finished their sugary treats that was connected to a memory, we left Glendora and hit for the highway again. The food was great and it was a nice snug little town, very pretty with lots of trees and nice buildings. I'm really glad we saw it and that my Mom spent her first five years in the pretty place.
Now to Yorba Linda, President Nixon's library. Why were we going to the place of the most FAILED president, the crooked politician who got involved in the Watergate scandal which did bad stuff and broke into the tapes of the Democrats? (at least that's what my foggy memory thinks happens) The only president to resign... one of the smallest presidential libraries and surely not the nicest.... what was the reason, you may be asking. Well, Dad wanted to learn the full story of Watergate, Mom wanted to go to every presidential library we could, and I wanted to find out more about Nixon, see what else he did in his term, besides the Watergate which is what he's famous for... or INfamous for, if that's a better term. Off the huge loud highway, the treasure of industrial and un-environmental, and then into a nice parking lot laden with spruce trees. The building was of stone, with the words in black bold and also glass paneling doors below. I remembered when entering the town how it didn't say "Home of Richard Nixon" or "A president was born in our town, nah nah nah nah poop poo!" on it's welcoming sign, but something like "Town of the setting sun" or Suburban city of America". I guess I know why they don't want to be famous for having Nixon being born in their town.
I may call Richard Nixon RN a little bit of the time or even Nixon, or Ricky. I probably won't be using Richard Nixon again.
Through the doors we came into a fairly big airy lobby, with a stone floor emblazoned (my friend James taught me that word) with a presentational seal in a circle with the black words going all around saying Nixon Presidential Library. There were also some panels and brochures of other traveling exhibits in the museum, which I'm sure people visit more than the actual museum. We were like four of ten people we'd maybe see there besides employees. In a way, it's sad and I kind of feel bad for Rick. Or Ricky. Or Dick. Nevermind. There was great tile and trim on the walls, all good and black and a circle black gift shop thing with all the computers and employees. We passed by all of the biographies and numerous books on him and Watergate and all that.. but honestly I believed after this museum I'd know a good amount about him and there would be no reason to get a book.... besides, it was Richard Nixon for goodness sakes.
We had to pay a little bit of money, and the employees didn't try to sugar coat his story or say he was really an awesome president.... they didn't really seen enthused to be there. Past the little gift shop with all the Nixon stuff was a square, like the entrance lobby, area, with nice tile floor and four columns. At two places to the left side were some bathrooms, scented and very nice and some I'd use again and again. Clear crisp taste for the water fountain. There were some metal flat benches here also. And at the far side a few glass display cases. To the right was columns branching off and a long panel, with at the far right corner a pathway, and same with the other left corner. After I peed and while the others did so, I looked at this big house in the glass display case, with all these old rooms, a study, and old beds with old furniture... this was RN's home as a young child. I'd later find out the real version was outside. It had a little laundry room too, and looked kind of like Mark Twain's house, just a little more modern and updated than that, with dining room and book cases and all that. Nixon was born in 1912 so it must of been not much older than that with little characters, his two brothers or something. On a column was a few more panels that I read about it. By this time Mom and Dad got back, and Rebecca and Dad started on the museum in the left hand corner first.
Mom said that I was taking too long on the long panel, which told a little about Dick's childhood, his brother dying I think and in the little town, his grades at school and being a good student, and then moving to Los Angeles after going to WWII even though he was a Quaker, because he wanted to fight for his country. He married a nice lady and got a really good political science degree, then wanting to become a politician in California. Thus the panel ended, and I wondered if I should go into the right pathway or maybe I should of started with the far left. I asked someone and they said that the panel was misplaced and was just a little look at his childhood but inside that left place was where he tried numerous terms of office. Well, Mom and I walked over there and thereafter officially began the museum of President Nixon. For minutes on end we walked through stylish font, going mostly right and back farther into all the museum, glass panels and artifacts from various campaigns, red, white and blue, all the pins and ties and clothing and streamers when Nixon tried for office, also black print and long panels talking about him getting in office after a few attempts in, and then trying to change a few things around, the economy and poor and all that.
Across the room from the entrance, a panel described with tapes and recordings about a member (forget his name but I think he was Russian or something) being involved in the Mob and saying he was in it, but then trying to put him up in court in telling that another member was a part in it, and both denials from each side. Nixon in taking them to a non-government or established building, recorded them saying the things, and was also in the middle of the trial and all that. I listened to the chilly recordings, and learned this was how Nixon got the nickname Tricky Dick. Mom came back a few times telling me that Rebecca and Dad were way farther on, as I read more about Nixon on a board or committee and trying to change big world things.... I think that he was like Sectretary of State or maybe he worked with Eisenhour. He traveled all the way to Africa in green jeeps and tried to learn all he could about the world hurting. You know when I read that I don't think he was that much of a jerk or evil person, and so far he hadn't done anything really bad, just lied a couple of times... and not for the worst of reasons either. One of them was to take mob members out of elected representative government roles. That's not too bad, right?
And then after a few more career moves I'm not taking time to discuss, came the Kennedy-Nixon debates, some of the first televised presidential debates. Mom left and said I HAD to speed up if I wanted to see all the museum (I'm was taking my bally good ole time, as an Englishman would say). Also, Dad and Rebecca (who don't take so much time in a museum) were already at the helicopter Nixon rode on and also his house. But, she wanted me to watch the debates of the two very interesting candidates, so sitting on the old sofa in front of the large and fat T.V. I watched em debate and see the calm, charismatic Kennedy against the sweating, older and more reserved Nixon. Kennedy just barely won, and Camelot was established with Jacky and Jack at the front of the white House. Nixon went back doing his stuff, and then his chance came again with Kennedy dying and Johnson not seeking reelection. He was finally in the seat of Executive power, and used it well as a Republican and humanitarian. There was a whole big room about his travels in China and the gifts he received from athletes, dancers, dignitaries, and all that. It was red and among these little circle alcoves were glass display cases about all the gifts. There were also pictures with the military and them walking down the wall of China. It was very interesting.
This is how I did things.... I read fast and tried to pay attention to time, also skipping the stuff that was unimportant or that I didn't find interesting. Nixon wanted to open up China to trade and try to make them not communists, and you have to admit you got to cheer him on for that. And then he took our troops out of Vietnam, as I saw in the green foliage room with all the panels, negotiating treaties and the like with their government. It seems he was a real negotiator, trying to make everyone happy and also making enemies friends because of their national resources. So he was good in that respect, although I don't know about later. I tried to speed on a little as the day was quickly ending and the museum was about to close. Then, I walked into the long red and black and white hallway and corridor, movie screens, speaker boxes and a lot of red paint and font... this was the exhibit on Watergate. I tried to read really fast, acknowledging that I wasn't going to see the helicopter(we had already seen another at a museum anyway), or the house. (I saw the model) I tried to read about him denying it and resigning because of the bad press, and the guys bugging his room and finding out he lied and them breaking into the Democrat headquarters, the Watergate building and all. Oops on him.
He messed up big time. He probably would've been an okay president if he hadn't hired people to trespass (oh and I saw their names and photos and court hearing junk too), told the American people he had nothing to do with it, and thereafter it was proved true he was lying. I guess he was an alright guy, but he made a mistake. We all make mistakes however, and probably have lied before in our lives though and done some pretty bad things, so I really wonder why everyone gives him such a hard time about it even though the average person might do something of the like. Washington had slaves, Grant smoked, Roosevelt cheated on his wife, Kennedy did the same, Nixon trespassed and lied, and Reagan ate too many jelly beans. Clinton also lied and did the wife thing. Even Obama has some hidden lies about his sketchy and colorful past. You see, that's what makes presidents and us all human, none of us our perfect but God can still use you for his glory and stuff. So next time we should give Nixon a break, besides, he did some cool things before Watergate. There's no good or bad. There's just human.
I still read in the museum some more.
But then Mom said it was time to go and we quickly as it closed went through the gift shop, into the lobby, and then exited the beautiful building with Rebecca and Dad. I didn't get to read much on Watergate. It was okay that I didn't do it all, but still seeing all that would've been nice. It was a wonderfully done museum and I was glad I got to go and learn more about the man with the teared and tattered legacy. It was a smallish place but maybe that isn't too bad sometimes. The rest of the day is hardly worth mentioning, just eating dinner and watching T.V. in our cluttered and rectangle small world. Goodbye for now.
(Outstrected hands raised with two fingers up on each hand signaling peace),
Andrew.
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