Sky Blue Sparrow: When avocados were new.

Driving home from church last Sunday afternoon, I decided to call Dad.

I recently got a new car with one of those phones where you can call people from the steering wheel. It took me awhile to get the hang of it at first. I kept accidentally calling my minister and hanging up. Probably imagining me teetering on the edge of a roof somewhere, she called me back. I assured her that I was fine, just technically challenged.

So, having mastered the car-phone, I reached Dad without incident. He lives 80 miles away in an assisted living home and I imagined he would be finished with lunch and having a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Sure enough, he answered with his customary “Hello, hello!”

We chatted awhile about this and that. He was enjoying a favorite pastime, watching the golf tournament.

Dad came to golf rather late in life. But once he found it, he made up for lost time and spent many a happy hour on the course. Now it had become a spectator sport. This particular tournament was being played in San Diego, which stirred some memories for Dad.

“I was in San Diego,” he reminisced, “after the war. For about six months.” He began to describe it; breezy and warm with lots of palm trees. It sounded lovely. I'm a sucker for palm trees.

“I remember a girl I met at a bus stop,” he said. He was alone, waiting for a bus back to the base, and she asked him to ride the bus with her on her way home. They talked a few minutes and he decided to accompany her. They rode about ten minutes to her stop. She got off and he rode back to town to wait for his bus.

“Maybe somebody had been bothering her, and she didn’t want to ride by herself,” he mused. I think he was right. My dad was a comforting, stable presence, even at his young age, and handsome in his uniform. She trusted him. Although with the Bing Crosby smirk displayed in this picture, I'm not sure I would have!

“One day we were hitching a ride into town,” he said. “Me and a couple of buddies. A man in a big new Pontiac stopped and asked if we would like to earn a little extra money.”

Turns out the man and his family owned a lime orchard, and he put Dad and his friends to work harvesting limes. Dad remembered the orchard was on a hill, and the ground had been leveled wherever there was a tree. It was nice. They worked a few days and were treated very well, Dad said.

Along with lime trees, the man was growing avocados.

“Avocados were new to the country. They were experimenting with them.” The guys were given long poles with clippers and a bag on the end. They learned to snip the fruit and catch it in the bag so it didn’t hit the ground and bruise.

Out of curiosity, I googled “Avocado harvesting stick” and they still have them. You can buy one at Walmart for $250.

The man was nice, Dad remembers. “He told us if we ever wanted to come back with our families for a vacation, we were welcome to come and stay. I'll never forget it."

We were quiet for a moment. By now I had pulled into my driveway. Winter had found Lexington at last and snow was falling. Dad was sitting in his apartment. I knew his walker was at hand and his motorized wheelchair was nearby. Even with these helpful devices, getting around was slow and painful at 97.

But I think each of us were mentally in California over 70 years ago.

Before wife and family.