The Hallway of Fame

I seem to have married into a family who are not particularly sentimental.  I guess that is a good thing in most ways.  They don’t hang onto something if it isn’t any longer useful.  I, on the other hand, am the opposite, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.  I have boxes and boxes of my kids’ school projects.  I have their baby clothes.  I have a lot of stuff that has no value, but means something to me, and really, only me.  I may be leaving this stuff for someone to throw away once I am gone because no one but me would really appreciate the value of some of the stuff I’ve hung onto.

Here in Tahoe we have a hallway that I’ve turned into a sentimental journey.  As you enter the house, you will see photos from various stages of the last almost 50 years of this house, and those who spent time here.  These are mostly of my husband when he was a kid, his parents, brother, his son and late wife and various and assorted relatives who have come to Tahoe over the years.

I call it the Hallway of Fame. 

This selection of photos shows the early years at this house.  My husband is the little boy in the middle two photos.

I’ve decided that if you’ve spent the night here, your photo goes on the wall.  I’m only up to less than half of the right side of the hallway.  But, I imagine that by the time I am an old, old, lady there will be many more photos on the walls.

This house was originally built in 1969, and ever since, this place has been a part of the Lynch family’s summer vacations.  We remodeled in 2016, adding a bedroom and bathroom, and modernized and expanded the kitchen.  But the neighbors around us have not changed a thing in well over 50 years, and that is what makes this area charming and unique.

Houses in this neighborhood- the Al Tahoe Forest Homes Association—are places with lots of sentimentality.  Here in California, people don’t seem to pass houses down to their children.  We are living in a time in history when people move a lot, relocate, upgrade.  But here in this neighborhood, homes are passed to the next generation.  So many people we talk to are vacationing, or living in the house they’ve known since their childhood.  It feels good to be a part of it, having a history in a house that goes back further than a decade. 

So when you come here to visit, please stop through The Hallway of Fame.  It is full of sentimentality, the memories of good times past, and a hope for the future

BINGO!

Yesterday we went with Winnie, (my mother-in-law) to play Bingo at the Nugget Casino in Sparks,Nevada.  No one won, but it was an experience. 

Winnie loves to play Bingo.  She and Rob go to Las Vegas twice a year so she can play in the big tournaments, with the grand prize of $50,000.  She also plays regularly with her friends at the Senior Center in Novato. Of course the hope of winning is why you play, but she enjoys the fun of it anyway. Having had a couple of ‘close ones’ yesterday, I understand the anticipation.  When I was  one number away from Bingo, I chanted under my breath,  “Come on B-5, B-5, B-5,” only to be disappointed when that annoying lady with that ridiculous big hat yelled, “Bingo,” ending my chance to win.

Bingo is sort of a Catholic institution, isn’t it?  I grew up with my mom going to the school auditorium on the 3^rd Wednesday of each month, hoping to hit the jackpot. The church bulletin reminded parishioners when the next Bingo night was. As a teacher in a Catholic school, I felt it was my duty to teach the next generation, this classic game.  I had a little set in my classroom, with a metal cage that turned and held the small wooden balls, each with a Bingo letter and number.  The prizes ranged from a piece of candy, a sticker or the grand prize, a homework pass. It was a good way to pass a rainy day recess, or the last half hour on a Friday afternoon.

Going with Winnie yesterday, reminded me of volunteering at a Bingo game many years ago.  I thought it would be a fun way to do some of the service hours I was required to do as part of my tuition contract. This was ‘back-in-the-day’ when smoking was still allowed in public places.  It was also the one and only time I volunteered at Bingo.  Those people were crazy.  As they lined up to go in, smoking like fiends, each had to get to his or her lucky spot in the room.  Once seated, they pulled out their lucky charms- trolls, sparkling crystals, and other trinkets that were sure to help them win.  Since this was my first (and last) time volunteering, I had to get a quick lesson in what to do with the ‘pull-tabs,’ and other side opportunities to win it big. (Pull-tabs were similar to lottery scratchers- somebody’s gotta win, right?) I had to be fast, and notice every little old lady who was waving her hand at me.  I wore one of those aprons with pockets for money, pull-tabs, and daubers to buy in case someone’s ran out.  (Daubers are little bottles of ink with a round top to mark your winning numbers as they are called.) I was warned about Mrs. Monahan who was a real crab, and Mrs. DeVincenzi who was also a pain. This Bingo stuff was serious business to them.  A chance to win, AND helping the church raise money- it was a higher cause than I ever realized. I remember looking out over the crowded room and seeing the haze of smoke hanging over everyone’s head. But there was not a sound during the calling of numbers.  Anyone who dared speak above a whisper was promptly told to shut up.  Politeness went out the window during Bingo.  I went home that night reeking of cigarette smoke- all the way down to my underwear.

The Bingo game at the Nugget Casino had the classic Bingo board, lighting up with the numbers as each was called.  But, it also had a monitor showing the Bingo balls as they popped into the shoot.  One side of the room was ‘non-smoking’ and the other side ‘smoking.’  I still walked out of there smelling like cigarettes.  There were still a few ladies with their hand-made dauber bags, and a couple of lucky charms poised near their cards.  The average age was about 75. 

Now they also have computerized Bingo cards on tablets. If you choose this method and pay a little bit more, the computer fills in your cards and all you have to do is yell, “Bingo.” 

As I said it was an experience. 

Fifty-Four Bags of Pine Needles

Retirement is not all about lounging around; I’ll have you know! Yesterday we spend several hours raking up and bagging about seven years worth of pine needles, dead leaves and pine cones that had accumulated around the yard.   Rob’s dad was the grand raker-upper, keeping things in order, making sure that the dry underbrush didn’t create a fire hazard.  He’s been gone about 3 ½ years now and we realized that it had been several years prior to his passing that he was able to do much raking.

Living in the woods, under what gardeners call, “dappled sunlight,” not much grows in the soil beneath the towering trees.  That’s why the Keep Tahoe Blue people, (and we are members in good standing- we even have our name listed in their quarterly brochure in size 7 font,) give lots of good advice about native plants for your yard.  Planting those native plants will be a project down the road a bit. Clearing the way, was yesterday's job. 

Our original plan was to rake and bag up about 10 bags worth, then stop.  But since we were already dirty, and sweaty, and it was a Saturday, so the beaches would be full of tourists--- (see, now we think of ourselves as locals,) we just kept going, and going and going.

I felt like an ancient, creaky, sore, old fart when we were done.  After a long cool shower, some ibuprofen and a couple of gin and tonics, I was back to my normal self—an old fart still, but not so creaky and sore.

Turf and Surf

No, I’m not talking about those lobster and steak specials advertised on casino billboards as you make your way through the mountains on Highway 50 coming to Lake Tahoe. I’m talking about where we have found ourselves over the last week. We recently took a 7.7-mile hike up on the turf leading to Round Lake.  And, we’ve been paddling the surf in Lake Tahoe in our new inflatable kayaks.

The Tahoe region has more lakes than you’d imagine.  It is not just Lake Tahoe, there are dozens of hidden gems in the mountains. I went on the hike with my husband who competes in triathlons, and my two young, beautiful and fit adult daughters. Now, I try to stay fit myself.  I swim regularly, walk a lot and yet still need to lose some weight.  I am the tortoise- slow and steady, who wins the race.  Or, at least finishes the hike. I use hiking poles that really help with the steep grades. I am way past caring about looking dorky. 

Round Lake is along the Tahoe Rim Trail, and is at an elevation of 8,000 feet. The trail leads you up and down, and up and down though cool pine forests full of wild flowers, streams and chattering squirrels and chipmunks. My dog, Teddy isn’t much of a swimmer, but he loved walking into the creeks and cooling off his tummy and feet while taking a drink of probably the most pure water he ever swallowed.

After the first part of rather steep uphill trails, we were rewarded with an open expanse called Big Meadow.   I had to stop myself from doing a Julie Andrews imitation, “The hills are alive, with the Sound of Music.” I’m sure I would have made my daughters cringe, even though we were completely alone, and the only sounds were that of the distant calls of birds in the far away woods.

Mandy and Toby in Big Meadow

Then, at last we arrived at Round Lake, cool, blue with forbidding jagged granite cliffs that stood sentry over the lake.  All I could do was exhale and take it all in.  We found a shady spot and had our lunch.  Rob of course went in for a swim.  It was an amazing adventure, and I can’t wait to go back.

Round Lake

And then there is the surf.  I don’t know how else to put it: I just love kayaking. It is a fun way to get exercise. There is nothing like being out on the water and looking back at the land- the beach, the mountains, the trees, and feeling a sense of freedom, and as corny as it sounds, a oneness with nature.

We bought a couple of 2 person inflatable kayaks because we were tired of hoisting the two ‘real’ kayaks we had onto the top of the car, tying them down and then having to unload them at the lake.  Let me tell you, the inflatable ones are just as much work, but they are great.  They come in a big bag and with a healthy set of lungs, a foot-pump or a battery operated pump, they blow up pretty easily. 

After spending some time getting our inflatables ready for their maiden voyage, we began our kayaking adventure in a tributary of Lake Tahoe that is basically snow melt from Mount Tallac.  This area has been dry as a bone for the last few years of the drought, but this year, it was a reedy, water lily filled stream. Paddling up the creek was peaceful, with no sounds except for the birds and the wind rustling the scrubby plants and trees. 

Rob paddling up a tributary to Lake Tahoe with Mount Tallac in the background

Then we crossed the stream where it entered Lake Tahoe.  On this busy weekend day, colorful umbrellas, inner tubes, floating toys and small boats were everywhere.  We paddled to the west shore admiring boats of all sizes. It is amazing how quiet it becomes as soon as you are a short distance from shore. 

                                                          Retirement is pretty good so far.