White Trash food, canning, pies, beets, turkey, bread pudding, asparagus, potlucks, sweet potatoes, rhubarb, spinach, Easter bunnies, jellybeans, ice cream, apricots, and dog food served as paté
3:58 p.m., Feb. 19
Dave was working as a bartender in the main bar at the La Costa Resort back in the 70s. We were dating so I would go up to hang out on Friday nights with my girlfriends and dance and drink with the old men in the red jackets.
One night I decided to go up on a Wednesday night. It was the middle of summer and I’d spent the entire day on the beach and I was tan and my skin was tight and I had some new hot pants with a gauze shirt I’d tie at my waist and skip the bra. It was about 9:00ppm and the place was pretty quiet. I sat down o the back side of the oval bar and ordered a Harvey Wallbanger. Dave was such a good looking guy, he was originally from Minnesota, but left for California at 18 to surf in the summer, ski in the winter and play tennis in the spring. He also picked up a few modeling gigs for OP so his picture appeared regularly in Surfer Magazine.
Anyway, he wasn’t really famous, but his job brought him into contact with lots of celebrities and politicians. On this night, sitting at the bar feeling beautiful and tan, nursing my drink at 21 and a half, I smiled to myself at my luck finding such a nice boyfriend who wasn’t too nice, but nice enough to trust. He finished up serving the couple who sat directly opposite me at the bar. The lady had blonde hair, a little over bleached, and she was wearing lots of big jewelry. Hands had big gold rings with giant diamonds, and this was back in the day before cubic zirconia, or at least before I knew it existed. He was a smaller guy with dark hair, medium length; nothing distinctive except he was wearing sunglasses in a dark bar, but that was common in the 70s for a variety of reasons. The main bar was dimly lit.
Dave walked over to me and leaned across the bar. Did you notice who that is, he said and I tore my eyes from his face long enough to give the couple another glance. Nothing. I had no idea who they were, but it was dark in there and there was a light out over that section of the bar. It’s David Janssen he said, the Fugitive!
Oh my God, I said quietly, I love David Janssen! I looked past Dave again and saw that he was leaning over the blonde woman and getting up from his stool, heading towards the exit. I jumped up and casually made my way to his side- headed for the ladies room so it wasn’t so obvious. As I approached from behind, he glanced at me and said “My God you’re still growing” and I smiled and said “My God now I can tell everyone I met David Jansen. We both laughed and I turned into the ladies, and he left the building.