Susan Beckett

Back in the day when Bob and I still had young children at home, I baked a lot more often. Poor Bob - these days it’s Stater Bros Inc for all his baking needs! But we had pumpkin and zucchini breads, cinnamon rolls, and other yummy delights on a regular basis. One afternoon, while in the kitchen making rolls, our young daughter Sharon happened to walk in. She stood for a bit, just watching, before finally blurting out, “Is that the roll that’s called up yonder?” She caught me so off-guard I just had to laugh. Apparently she loved that song - “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder I’ll Be There,” but was pretty clueless as to its true meaning. Too funny - guess we never know for sure what kids are thinking — adults too, for that matter!

I love reading through the Chronicle each week, but this week, reading the editorial by Bob Franken just had me bristling! According to Franken, the Republican Party is “a party that is now home to almost all bigots.”

There used to be a yogurt shop in Hemet which had some mind-blowing artwork on their wall. I always wondered if it was there for all the impatient customers waiting for their orders to be filled. It was a giant marine painting of all kinds of fish and deep-sea plant life. Embedded and well hidden within the huge watery panorama was another hard to see picture - the taunt was to find the obscure design. But even when you eventually found the hidden image, the next time you came back for yogurt, you usually had to find the hidden picture all over again. It drove me nuts.

Occasionally, Bob and I love driving into Orange County for time off. We mosey through the malls, rumble through the antique stores, and dine at Felix’s, our ‘to-die-for’ Cuban restaurant. I remember one time in particular we drove to OC and tried checking into our favorite hotel. Of course, the first thing the desk clerk asks you is, “Do you have reservations?” Well, we didn’t. We had never needed them before, but unfortunately, this time, there was some kind of convention going on, so unless we had that precious reservation, we were out of luck. So - we were out of luck!

Back in the day when I was in junior high, my parents took our family to the Grand Canyon for the mule ride to the bottom. Both my sister and I were used to horseback riding, so, of course, we thought the entire trip was just dandy. My parents on the other hand, had a more challenging time with the whole experience! We spent the night at the bottom and then saddled up the next morning for the ride out. My poor dad, unbeknownst to the rest of us, had snuck a towel into his pants for the ride out of the canyon. Once back at the rim and off his mule, my father, patting his sore bottom, stoically made this resolute declaration: “I will never, ever again ride a mule and from now on we are hiking this canyon!” Which, by the way, we did four times! Whether we rea