An odd stranger with a secret to tell approached me. He told me a secret that sounded like one you might see on The Twilight Zone.

I was waiting to board a plane at LAX. I was leaving on a jet plane bound for home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an elderly gentleman in the waiting area. 

He was wearing a Hamburg-style hat and a heavy overcoat. He clutched a book in his left hand and carried a briefcase in his right. His eyes looked larger than normal behind thick, black-rimmed glasses. He reminded me of a bug-eyed mad scientist in a 1950s black-and-white movie.

He approached and said, “You look very smart in your uniform, young man.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He leaned a little too close and whispered, “I have a top-secret to pass along.”

I stood up straight and put on a serious face. As he talked, I nodded slowly to acknowledge the secret he was sharing.

He looked me in the eye and spoke, “Listen closely, young man. Evil Aliens have come to Earth to help Communist countries bury freedom-loving America.”

I raised my left eyebrow in disbelief. He sensed that I was not on board with what he was sharing.

“Don’t worry. Freedom-loving aliens have come to help us. Their weapons are better than the dirty Commies' and we will easily win a nuclear war.”

I nodded gently in his direction.

Within earshot, a short lady stood nearby. She was wearing a forest green overcoat. She had a matching Black Forest-style hat with a leather twisted rope in place of a hatband. Planted in the leather rope was a long pheasant feather that pointed backward. Her hair was cut short, with dark grey strands mixed with black.

As the old man continued talking, I could see her eyes squinting and staring intently, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle.

The old man told me, “I can tell by the look on your face that you believe me.” I nodded slightly and didn’t say a word.

He looked at the lady watching us nearby and asked, “You believe me, don’t you?”

She jutted out her chin, and her eyes did not move. She blurted out with an accent, ‘YOU ARE NUTS. Don’t talk to me, Dummkopf.

He turned and walked away. I stood there silently.

I heard the announcement to board the plane. As I picked up my bag, I flashed the lady a smile. She smiled back and said in a firm accent, “Be careful, junger mann.”

I gave a quick nod and said, “Yes, Ma’am.” I brought my hand up to my hat and gave a respectful salute. I turned and headed for the line at the departure gate. 

While waiting, I started thinking, “Was that old man pulling my leg? It sure feels a little longer.”

I can still see that moment in my mind’s eye, as if it happened last week.

My close encounter with that old man remains a strong memory. Now it is my turn to be an old man, three days shy of my 80th birthday, at the time of writing this story. I am one of the lucky ones whose memory has not faded into the recesses of a distant mind.

It is easy for me to stop and listen to a stranger willing to share a moment of their life, who enjoys passing along a story.

During my travels, I have heard many a story. A few have become seeds that grew, like this one I am publishing today.

Aliens and UFOs are real for many, while an equal number believe they exist only in Science Fiction.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986) was one of the time-travel stories I noticed over the years.

That one got me thinking. Maybe the UFOs seen today come from a distant future. Our progeny solved the mystery of time travel and are coming back to fact-check what really happened and update their history books.

The final answer will never remain final; new information can always be found or imagined, changing perceptions.

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In 1956, I was ten years old, and on Saturday nights our family would listen to songs on the radio.

We would sit around the kitchen table listening to the "Grand Ole Opry." 

When we looked out the window, it was cold and black outside, and we were warm and toasty inside. 

Mom would heat rye bread in the broiler at the bottom of her white stove.

When the bread was done toasting, she would spread lots of Oleo and let it melt into the rye bread. and give it to us. 

Oleo's full name was Oleomargarine; we just called it Oleo.

As kids, we could finish a whole loaf, along with a cup of hot chocolate.

For Dad, Mom would rub a clove of garlic on his slice, and one slice was good enough for him.

After finishing his slice, he would get up from his chair and stand beside the oil-burning stove, which kept our house warm during cold winter nights.

I remember one Saturday night when Tennessee Ernie Ford was singing his song "Sixteen Tons" on the radio.

Dad would join in and sing along with Ford. 

Not every word, only the best part, "St Peter don't ya call me, cause I can't go, I owe my soul to the company stooore."

That was the only song he ever sang along with. Most of the time, he would stare off into the distance while listening to the radio.

Tap on the red play button and listen to the song once more.

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Published in 1898 by D. Appleton and Company of New York
WRITTEN IN 1897  by E. Hough

I have a copy of this book that I found at a Pasadena used-book store.
_________________

It is a slice of history about the life of cowboys who worked on cattle drives in the American West between 1860 and 1895.

The 343-page book tells their story about working in the arms of Mother Nature.

Here is a quote from page 182:

“The monochrome of winter, the blue-grey of cold desolation, oppressed it all.”

Who were the brave souls choosing to work under those conditions to drive cattle to market?

Here is my guess, and it is just a guess.

I saw them as young men breaking free of the rules of civilization and embracing the rules of cattle drives.

Nobody would be calling daily meetings and telling them the goal to accomplish. They knew what needed to be done and did it.

The job had one goal: Bring those Longhorns from Texas to Kansas.

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Sitting straight as an arrow in the saddle, they were the boss over the cattle; nobody was a boss over them.

They believed in themselves.

Together as one. Rider and horse. They did their job.

Bringing beef to people living in the East while leading productive lives under the blazing Sun and cold rains.

When the Sun finished its job, a blanket of stars appeared. It was time for supper.

While sitting around a campfire, telling stories, and embellishing a few to make them more exciting, they were a team.

Here is another quote from page 182:

“The sky is even in its colours, except that now and then there scuds across it a strange and ominous thing,”

The quote reminded me of the song written by Stan Jones in 1948, “Ghost Riders in the Sky.” 

Stan said that he heard the story from an old cowboy when he was 12.

I am sure that the old cowboy had lived that glorious life and relived it when he told Stan his story. 

Tap on the red play button and listen to Stan's words sung by Johnny Cash.

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Saturday nights were movie nights when I was in grade school. Saturday afternoon was the only day we had to take a nap during the summer. 

Mom did not want us to fall asleep during the movie; it would be a waste of money.

Dad would always fall asleep during the movie, but not during Brigitte Bardot's movie, "And God Created Women."

Mom's favorite actor was Victor Mature.

One time, he told Mom, "You'll like this movie, Victor Manure is in it."

She shot back, "That is not how you pronounce his name!"

He just smiled.

Before we went to the drive-in theatre, we would help Mom put potato chips, fig newtons, and ginger ale in our station wagon.

Before we left, Mom would bend and rip two sticks of juicy fruit gum. Each of us would get half a stick and a lecture. 

Mom would say, "Chew it slowly with your mouth closed. Don't swallow it. It might plug you up."

There were cartoons before the first movie, and during the intermission, we ate our snacks before the second movie started.

The Saturday night movie at the Drive-in theatre had a big influence on me. I wanted to be a movie star and hang out at the pool every day.

Just like the actors did in Mom's Movieland magazine.

I knew that movies were made in California, and that was the place I wanted to be.

I knew that I could be a movie star if I didn't look in the mirror while I was brushing my teeth.

California Dreamin' became my favorite when I heard it on the radio, and I made my dream come true when I put down roots in 1968. 

Tap on the red play button and listen to the Mamas and the Papas sing their song on The Ed Sullivan Show.

A really big show.

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