Howllo Fellow Basset Hound and Short Story Lovers…I wrote my short story with all of your sentences incorporated. I cannot tell you howl much fun this was. I hope you enjoy.
I have now approved all of your comments that went into my short story.
They are in the comment section of the blog post where I asked for them.
GO THE COMMENT SECTION
This is a totally fictional short story and has nothing to do with my life. It was fun making it all up. I write howl I talk so of course there will be grammar errors…an editor I am not!
And here we go…….
The view from Liberace’s back seat…
My Grandma’s name on my Mother’s side was Lida Cole. I called her Li Li. She was named after her Great Great Grandma who was Lida Cole of the Pacific Coast Borax Company. You know the name, the one with the 20 mule team on the box. Or maybe you are too young.
Her family settled the area called Death Valley Junction.
Wikipedia information..
In 1914 the Death Valley Railroad started operating between Ryan, CA and Death Valley Junction. It carried borax until 1928, when operations ceased. The name of the town was changed from Amargosa (“bitter water” in a Paiute language) to Death Valley Junction. From 1923 to 1925 the Pacific Coast Borax Company constructed buildings in the town, hiring architect Alexander Hamilton McCulloch to design a Spanish Colonial Revival whistle stop centered at the hotel, theater and office complex building, now known as the ***Amargosa Opera House and Hotel. The town began to decline in the mid twentieth century, until 1967 when dancer and actress Marta Becket, with help from benefactors, leased, then purchased the hotel and theater complex.
***(That’s an entirely different short story)
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Li Li and I were the only ones of the family who remained in Death Valley Junction, population about 20 in 1955. The towns biggest claim to fame was that Las Vegas was pretty close.
Li Li was stronger than a Borax 20 mule team.
Her memory is fresh and clean as I put the top down on my 1973 white convertible Eldorado Cadillac, aka the ELDOG and get ready to drive through death valley. This car is the only link I ever had to my Mom and actually the only one I want. She left me with Li Li one early morning. She laid me in Li Li’s laundry basket and never looked back. The only thing that ever mattered to her was that white Cadillac. The one I bought from the impound lot years after she went missing…again.
It was a dark and stormy night, at the opera house. I was up early, determined to find the bubbles of my childhood. I decided to put the top down. The dust had settled due to storm last night. The sun was coming up. Liberace was in his place, stretched the entire length of the sofa sized red leather back seat. As we pulled away from Martha’s hotel, The Amargosa, I turned around and said to him, “Rabbit…Rabbit…in the brush, I’m on your trail and I will find you.” He opened one eye and rolled over on his plush coverlette that I had laid out for him so he would not slide off the lipstick red leather. His long body was filled up from his breakfast and he was in for his early morning nap. We were off as I spun the wheels. I wanted to stir up some red dust for those memories I was after. As I rolled down the road I popped one of my old 8 track tapes in. I found all of my favorites on ebay. Bob Seger started singing to me. Roll, roll me away won’t you roll me away tonight. The sun was rising over the east horizon. The sky was turning pink and gold. It was 2012 now. I had done pretty good for myself with a travel blog I started in 2002. The Internet was a huge open space just like the road that lay before me. Li Li had taught me her knack for story telling. She would say, “You must paint a picture with your words precious Blase, tell what you see but most importantly tell what you feel.”
I thought about what else my Grandma Li Li would say to me…“Not everything in life is good or fair but we have to make the best of it.” Then she would say. “And the best is always better!” Kind of like what I say, “When all else fails, reboot.”
I chuckled to myself because make the best of it is what we did and what I still do. I had my desert boots on. I could leap over any obstacle.
Li Li also said, just to be safe, “don’t step on any cracks.” She was full of advise and the desert was full of cracks.
Our old home was about an hour away doing 90 on CA-127 right outside of Phrump. My arm was now firmly doing the fast air wave thing. You know, the thing when you make your arm swim in the air. It was a motion to my Grandma, Li Li. I popped in my Liberace 8 track now. Gotta love ebay! My very own Liberace groaned with sleep in the back seat. He was dreaming of something. His legs were moving and running. He was most likely still chasing that rabbit.
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Everything right smelled of Borax back then. Li Li’s aprons were white and crisp. As I sat beneath the clothes line I could see them cracking and flapping in the breeze. Each one clipped with care holding on in the hot and dry California desert with bleached out wooden clothes pins. I can still see her white apron strings dancing across the blue sky. Li Li would say, “lie back my blase and dream”. Blase is German for bubble. Li Li called me Blase. The sound of her humming was methodical and enchanting. She would hum the tunes of Liberace over and over again. Humming Ave Maria with the elegance of an opera star. Her hands almost looked as if she was playing the piano as she delicately moved across the clothes line pinning and pinning, humming and humming. I was transfixed as I lay and watch and listen….
That was until our very own Liberace would come wildly barreling across the desert yard full of red dust in his wake. I always wondered, “why did that always seem to happen in slow motion?” His ears flying with his tail going in full propeller motion. He was coming at us like he was winning a race. A race where the prize was our affection.
Li Li would shout, “graaaaaaaaaaaab the basketttttttttttt, grrrrrrrrrrrab the bassssssssssssssssket” and if I was too late he would use the fresh clean laundry as a spring board into her arms.
“Liberace!”, she would say with her thick German accent. “You beautiful big wonderful star”. His tail and body in a mass of skin and wiggle would move with a manly grace….”Race” (pronounced like the last part of Liberace with a really thick German accent)…”sing for us, sing for your supper”. Li Li would start humming in her higher pitched tone and Race would howl and bay. His deep melodic plaintive wail would reverberate over the flat land. He was so filled with joy. So full of himself. Li Li would praise him like a famous voice instructor would shower compliments on a star student. She would tell me, “When you look into their eyes you can touch their soul.” Then she would say, “When you listen to their voice you can hear the future.” Grandma Li Li would tell me that hounds like Liberace were a gift to the dog world because of their voice. She always wanted a hound as a young girl but her Dad always had big guard dogs. Li Li laughed and told me about Enzo. “He had the kind of face that looked like someone had slammed a door on it; hard!”
Li, Li went on…“The dynamic duo Enzo and Romeo on alert, waiting for something to happen!” “Who wanted in our house? We had nothing,” she would tell me.
As I ran after our Liberace, the super star, I took a deep breath. The smell of sauerkraut and pork patties filled the almost cool early evening air. We left the apron strings to dance alone. The moon light would be their partners soon. Li Li would take them down in the early morning misty air. “That way the wrinkles would shake off better.” She knew everything about everything.
Sunday nights were always filled with that special tinge of excitement. We had made Irish potato ball candy earlier. The divine delicacies were firming in the ice box. The anticipation was mouth watering.
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Irish Potatoes – Li Li’s recipe
Ingredients
1/2 stick of butter softened
1/2 brick of cream cheese softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 cups confectioners sugar
2 1/2 cups sweetened coconut
2 Tablespoons cinnamon
Instructions
Beat together butter and cream cheese. Slowly add the confectioners sugar.
Add the vanilla.
Add the coconut and mix until combined.
Roll the coconut mixture into a ball.
Roll the coconut mixture into the cinnamon and put on a cool plate.
Keep the Irish Potatoes in the fridge.
I still make. You can keep them in the freezer also…
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Race charged a head of us. I tried to keep up but his four short legs moved faster than any human runner. His back paws hitting the desert sand and flinging up dust that looked just like the cinnamon we used on the sweet Irish potato candy balls. I told Li Li about it every time. She would laugh and tell me that I was a “creative genus”. It was a ritual that made me swell with pride. I was a creative genus and Race was our handsome matinee idol. Pork patties, sauerkraut and Irish potato balls were our fortune.
As Liberace beat me to the door we both fell at the bottom of the steps panting and laughing. I rubbed his long ears and took a big whiff. I loved the smell of his ears. I would whisper, “I love you”. I told Li Li, “Look! Race looks at me with love in his eyes.” Blase, he is saying, “Where’s the beef?” Well, Race, tonight it’s pork!
The screen door slammed behind us as we all entered the world of a magic Grandma kitchen. The floors scrubbed and clean. The cast iron skillet simmering. The steam filled the air as Li Li lifted the heavy lid. She gave me a tiny taste. “Food is love”, she would say.
Li Li filled Race’s bowl with his sliced pork patty and added a bit of sauerkraut, “A little kraut for the Jagdhund will help his digestion”, she would boast. She went on to say, “he looks at me with those big brown eyes and melts my heart with a wag of his white tail and little whine begging for what I am cooking.” Li Li loved to cook for us. She would say that food is what gives us life and life is what gives us love. Her lilting laughter in movement with the curtains as the breeze caught them. Everything was so in tune.
We always fed Liberace first. He would eat in seconds and then go curl up on his immaculately clean bed. He would lay in contentment and lick his paws, then his ears. Li Li would say that he had some left over on his ears. She would look at him and say, “You can look at me and bark and howl and demand some leftovers, but you aren’t getting any!” He knew better as he drifted off to sleep. He would hear the clean up action soon enough. We both always kept our last bite for him.
Our Sunday meals were a delight beyond dreams. Li Li would buy a very thick pink pork chop the day before. She would make sure that the butcher gave her the thickest one so that way she could slice it into 2 horizontal chops. She would take the bone out and we would beat those two pieces until they were as big as dinner plates and as thin as paper. This is how we got our frustrations out! “It’s better to take it out on the pork than on anyone else”, she would say! Oh, and it tasted so good. The patties would simmer in sauerkraut and rye seeds all day long. If the wind was just right you could smell it for miles. The juices were so thick by dinner time it was like gravy. Li Li would say, “Everything tastes better with gravy on it.” As the night air turned a tench cooler and the sky turned that special shade of blue (which we called blue time) we turned on the old wooden radio. The superman radio show was wrapping up. I had no interest in it. I could hear from the porch the announcer saying…“When Superman came to Earth he was wrapped in blankets by his mother from the planet Krypton.” I bent down and kissed Liberace and whispered in his long ear, “You are the real superman, this is your town. Life is good in basethoundtown.”
It finally was 8:00pm and live from Los Angels was the Lawrence Welk Show. We both lived for his Sunday night show. Li Li for the music and me for the bubbles. Li Li had an old white Borax plastic bucket and more Borax in the shed than you could shake a wire shaped circle at. She would dip the wire in the bucket and the bubbles were as big a your head. We even had candles set up in the fashion of a Liberace candelabra on the railing of the porch. Race would chase the bubbles as Li Li taught me to waltz. As we twirled she would drag more bubbles across the night sky. I could see the fire flies through the bubbles. The shimmers were rainbows that still sit in my soul. The soft sound of Lawrence’s voice and the swaying tunes of his orchestra were heady and warm. I would hug Li Li and feel her soul as she hummed all of the tunes for us. She knew them by heart.
The blanket of stars above us was thick and they sparkled as the sugar from the Irish potato balls soothed the taste of the night.
“One more bubble”…I begged Li Li, my eyes heavy needing sleep.
“One more bubble my Blase”…Her accent softer now and the smell of cinnamon and sauerkraut hugged me again.
Liberace was already in my bed. Laying at the foot he moaned and went belly up. Li Li and I had made a sign that hung on the wall near him, it said. “A house is not a home without a dog.”
Li Li pulled the clean white sheet up under my chin and gave me a kiss on the forehead. She whispered in my ear, “Dream the dreams of a creative genus my Blase.”
It was at this moment that she knew what had to be done and a sense of peace came over her like a hug from a grandmother. From her grandmother..”tell her Li Li”, she heard her own grandmother say from above.
Li Li thought I had fallen asleep. She whispered again, “I lived without a mother too.” As I fell asleep I knew we were meant to be together. Neither one of us with a Mom, but both of us with a bond. A bond that was stronger.
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As I pulled up to the place I called home for 20 years I was happy. The structure we danced around and blew bubbles at was gone. It was just a foundation now. The foundation of my life. A wild fire had burnt it to the ground. It didn’t matter to me. I could still smell the sauerkraut and pork. My Liberace was rousting from the back seat. He was preening in all of his glory. We walked for about a mile to an old Borax mine I thought would still be there. It was all over grown now but I found a piece. A piece of what the founders of this city called white gold. Borax. It was small and I tucked it into my pocket. Liberace ran in front of me, kicking up red dust like cinnamon on Irish potato balls. I thought about Li Li, the aprons, the stars, the crackling old radio and the bubbles. We got back to the Eldog and I poured Race a big bowl of cool water from the jug. I added the small piece of Borax to the water that was left in the jug and fashioned a paper clip from my travel papers into a wand. I shook the bottle and dipped the wand. As I blew, a stream of bubbles flew out and hit the dry sky. They seemed to stand still in front of me, not drifting at all. Race jumped at one and started howling. His voice echoed, like a song, across the place I would forever call home.
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Pictures from Li Li’s scrap book and a few from mine…
Me and Race playing dress up 1962.
Old mule team Death Valley Junction – date unknown
Where we lived. Li Li and I named the mountain after Race – date unknown.
A passenger train coming into Death Valley Junction. Li Li rode it once with her Father. Date unknown.
The garage/impound lot where I picked up the ElDog, 1983.
Years later and a lot of money spent fixing it up here it is the ElDog and the title of my travel blog.
The view from Liberace’s back seat…
Next Stop? Who knows..
Not The End…
copyright2012
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