So a little more about the neighborhood on Arroyo Drive.
As I mentioned in my last blog, across the street from where we lived on Arroyo Drive was a large hilly area of land that belonged to a cemetery. At the time we were growing up, the cemetery was nowhere near where it is now and it is obvious that it has expanded quite a bit in the last 33 years. I am guessing that more people died, but I could be wrong.
One day, when we were exploring the hills, there was this woman walking through the hills and she had 2 very large German shepherd dogs. She did not say anything to us, but she looked really mean. She had this scowl on her face and she was looking at us like we were doing something wrong and were up to no good. Even though she was probably right, she didn't have to be so mean about it. We saw her on and off throughout the years, and we (dis)affectionately dubbed her "The Dog Lady." It was always the same, she would be walking to or from the 7-11 store that was down the street, always with her dogs, and she would either come down out of the hills, or head back up through the hills. We always thought that she lived beyond the cemetery and was just using the hills as a shortcut to get to the store.
For a while, even long before the development of Astra Drive, there wasn't anything across the street in either direction. In fact, the first development project was a large apartment complex that was down the street a few blocks. But even before this there was nothing but hills. You could actually walk all the way across the hills up to the fence line of the Pomona freeway and come back home by following the fence line on the backside of the cemetery.
I didn't really realize this as a kid, and it suddenly dawned on me later on as an adult, but Arroyo Drive was/is aptly named. Arroyo in Spanish means "brook" or more accurately a "wash" or dry creek bed that will suddenly fill with water after a significant downpour. Wikipedia says that this would be synonymous to a Wadi in Africa or a Spanish 'rambla.' Let me tell you, there are times in Southern California that when the rain comes down, it comes down in buckets, and Arroyo Drive would experience flash flooding. The area right in front of our house was notorious for flooding since it was the perfect confluence of hills on both sides, a significant rise in elevation if you turned right and drove away from our house, and a slight rise in elevation after you passed by the area that eventually would become Astra Drive. Again, for a visual, you might want to check this out on Google Earth.
Anyway, in my early years when the area flooded the water didn't have anywhere to go. There wasn't a storm drain system (yet), so the water just stayed there until it was absorbed into the ground. For kids this was great fun. We waded through the water, splashed each other, and sometimes made small, makeshift boats and then bombed them with rocks. But the best fun came when we were a little older and we noticed that some people would try to drive through the water. Some of them made it but most of them didn't. Eventually their cars would stall and there we were, eager to lend a helping hand -- for a fee! We would walk up to them and offer our services, usually $5 or $10 bucks would get you pushed clear of the water and off to the side of the road. If someone declined we would politely say ok and then turn and walk away. Most of the time they would give in and call us back, but sometimes there was the occasional person that would make the mistake of opening their car door and then curse as water poured into their vehicle. After a few days the water would recede and then there would be a ton of mud and debris in the street and across the street in the hills.
Eventually the city or county built storm drains to handle the flooding. This probably coincided with the development of the housing areas in the neighborhood. Oak Hills apartment complex had a huge inlet pipe that was directly below the hill that the apartments were on, and this faced the hills that were owned by the cemetery. The pipe was big enough that we could walk into it and explore underground for several hundred yards in about 3 different directions. In hindsight, it was probably stupid to go into those drains, but with a flashlight and a little nerve, it was an adventure.
The area directly across the streets from our house and leading right into the storm drain typically looked like a dry riverbed most of the year. Even though the storm drains helped to reduce the flooding, it didn't stop the accumulation of debris. In fact, a large amount of debris would get caught up on the grate that covered to drain inlet. At least the grate that was there most of the time. :-)
Surprisingly, a lot of the debris was wood. Sticks, branches, limbs, and a lot of this wood was rather large. I am not sure where it all came from, but it would definitely accumulate in large quantities. We called it driftwood even though there wasn't an ocean closer than 30-40 miles away. Of course we had to do something with the driftwood, but what? Well, what do you usually do with driftwood? You make a Bon Fire!! Somehow, I was always tasked with getting the fuel to light the fires with. Either matches or a lighter from my house, and the gas can that we used for the lawn mower. One time we decided that having a bon fire in the middle of the day was no fun, so we waited until later when the sun went down. It wasn't really dark, but it was dark enough so that the flames were significantly brighter.
So, there we were, Sal, Sebastian, Ronnie and I sitting on driftwood chairs, watching the flames, reveling in our bon-fire making skills and just enjoying the evening. Wouldn't you know it, that's when the fun ended. We started to hear some screaming. No, not screaming. More like yelling. Someone was mad, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I looked back in the direction of our homes and didn't see a parent. That was good, because they didn't really know what we were up to and frankly they wouldn't have approved.
Then Sal saw it first and pointed. It was definitely the source of the anger and the yelling and I have to be honest here: this was one of the most frightening sights I have ever seen. There, on the other side of the bon fire up on the side of the hill was "The Dog Lady." At first I could barely make her out between the flames. I had to move my head from one side to the next to be sure I was seeing correctly. Sure enough, there she was staring right at us and yelling something indecipherable. She was flanked by both of her dogs and I could swear they were growling and drool was dripping off of the corners of their mouths. The light from the fire illuminated their three faces and shadows were dancing across the hillside all around them. Her shadow and the shadows of her two dogs stretched up the hillside making them look much bigger and ominous then they really were. It looked evil. Then it dawned on me why I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was German. She was yelling at us in German and she was pissed off. She probably thought we were going to start a massive brush fire and I really can't blame her. She was probably right. I really wasn't thinking it through that far though. I was just terrified. It was like something from a terrible WWII movie and I thought that the evil Nazi dog lady was going to release her dogs at any moment and they would rip us to shreds.
We decided to make a run for it back home, and we took off. Right before we got to our homes we looked back and she was gone. She had disappeared into the darkness of the hills. Either that or she went to get a Slurpee.
We got some buckets of water, returned to the bon fire and put it out. I am pretty sure that was the last bon fire we ever made over there. We continued to see the dog lady every once in a while. She never spoke to us, but always gave us the dirty looks. At one point we never saw her again. One time, when we were exploring in the hills we found a place in one of the gullies that looked like someone had made a little cave. There was garbage all over the area. Empty food containers and tin cans, old clothes and blankets. It looked like someone that had been homeless had lived there. I am not sure if it was her, but there was a good chance that it was. If it was her home, I imagine that she probably kept the dogs for protection as much as intimidating little boys.
As I mentioned in my last blog, across the street from where we lived on Arroyo Drive was a large hilly area of land that belonged to a cemetery. At the time we were growing up, the cemetery was nowhere near where it is now and it is obvious that it has expanded quite a bit in the last 33 years. I am guessing that more people died, but I could be wrong.
One day, when we were exploring the hills, there was this woman walking through the hills and she had 2 very large German shepherd dogs. She did not say anything to us, but she looked really mean. She had this scowl on her face and she was looking at us like we were doing something wrong and were up to no good. Even though she was probably right, she didn't have to be so mean about it. We saw her on and off throughout the years, and we (dis)affectionately dubbed her "The Dog Lady." It was always the same, she would be walking to or from the 7-11 store that was down the street, always with her dogs, and she would either come down out of the hills, or head back up through the hills. We always thought that she lived beyond the cemetery and was just using the hills as a shortcut to get to the store.
For a while, even long before the development of Astra Drive, there wasn't anything across the street in either direction. In fact, the first development project was a large apartment complex that was down the street a few blocks. But even before this there was nothing but hills. You could actually walk all the way across the hills up to the fence line of the Pomona freeway and come back home by following the fence line on the backside of the cemetery.
I didn't really realize this as a kid, and it suddenly dawned on me later on as an adult, but Arroyo Drive was/is aptly named. Arroyo in Spanish means "brook" or more accurately a "wash" or dry creek bed that will suddenly fill with water after a significant downpour. Wikipedia says that this would be synonymous to a Wadi in Africa or a Spanish 'rambla.' Let me tell you, there are times in Southern California that when the rain comes down, it comes down in buckets, and Arroyo Drive would experience flash flooding. The area right in front of our house was notorious for flooding since it was the perfect confluence of hills on both sides, a significant rise in elevation if you turned right and drove away from our house, and a slight rise in elevation after you passed by the area that eventually would become Astra Drive. Again, for a visual, you might want to check this out on Google Earth.
Anyway, in my early years when the area flooded the water didn't have anywhere to go. There wasn't a storm drain system (yet), so the water just stayed there until it was absorbed into the ground. For kids this was great fun. We waded through the water, splashed each other, and sometimes made small, makeshift boats and then bombed them with rocks. But the best fun came when we were a little older and we noticed that some people would try to drive through the water. Some of them made it but most of them didn't. Eventually their cars would stall and there we were, eager to lend a helping hand -- for a fee! We would walk up to them and offer our services, usually $5 or $10 bucks would get you pushed clear of the water and off to the side of the road. If someone declined we would politely say ok and then turn and walk away. Most of the time they would give in and call us back, but sometimes there was the occasional person that would make the mistake of opening their car door and then curse as water poured into their vehicle. After a few days the water would recede and then there would be a ton of mud and debris in the street and across the street in the hills.
Eventually the city or county built storm drains to handle the flooding. This probably coincided with the development of the housing areas in the neighborhood. Oak Hills apartment complex had a huge inlet pipe that was directly below the hill that the apartments were on, and this faced the hills that were owned by the cemetery. The pipe was big enough that we could walk into it and explore underground for several hundred yards in about 3 different directions. In hindsight, it was probably stupid to go into those drains, but with a flashlight and a little nerve, it was an adventure.
The area directly across the streets from our house and leading right into the storm drain typically looked like a dry riverbed most of the year. Even though the storm drains helped to reduce the flooding, it didn't stop the accumulation of debris. In fact, a large amount of debris would get caught up on the grate that covered to drain inlet. At least the grate that was there most of the time. :-)
Surprisingly, a lot of the debris was wood. Sticks, branches, limbs, and a lot of this wood was rather large. I am not sure where it all came from, but it would definitely accumulate in large quantities. We called it driftwood even though there wasn't an ocean closer than 30-40 miles away. Of course we had to do something with the driftwood, but what? Well, what do you usually do with driftwood? You make a Bon Fire!! Somehow, I was always tasked with getting the fuel to light the fires with. Either matches or a lighter from my house, and the gas can that we used for the lawn mower. One time we decided that having a bon fire in the middle of the day was no fun, so we waited until later when the sun went down. It wasn't really dark, but it was dark enough so that the flames were significantly brighter.
So, there we were, Sal, Sebastian, Ronnie and I sitting on driftwood chairs, watching the flames, reveling in our bon-fire making skills and just enjoying the evening. Wouldn't you know it, that's when the fun ended. We started to hear some screaming. No, not screaming. More like yelling. Someone was mad, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I looked back in the direction of our homes and didn't see a parent. That was good, because they didn't really know what we were up to and frankly they wouldn't have approved.
Then Sal saw it first and pointed. It was definitely the source of the anger and the yelling and I have to be honest here: this was one of the most frightening sights I have ever seen. There, on the other side of the bon fire up on the side of the hill was "The Dog Lady." At first I could barely make her out between the flames. I had to move my head from one side to the next to be sure I was seeing correctly. Sure enough, there she was staring right at us and yelling something indecipherable. She was flanked by both of her dogs and I could swear they were growling and drool was dripping off of the corners of their mouths. The light from the fire illuminated their three faces and shadows were dancing across the hillside all around them. Her shadow and the shadows of her two dogs stretched up the hillside making them look much bigger and ominous then they really were. It looked evil. Then it dawned on me why I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was German. She was yelling at us in German and she was pissed off. She probably thought we were going to start a massive brush fire and I really can't blame her. She was probably right. I really wasn't thinking it through that far though. I was just terrified. It was like something from a terrible WWII movie and I thought that the evil Nazi dog lady was going to release her dogs at any moment and they would rip us to shreds.
We decided to make a run for it back home, and we took off. Right before we got to our homes we looked back and she was gone. She had disappeared into the darkness of the hills. Either that or she went to get a Slurpee.
We got some buckets of water, returned to the bon fire and put it out. I am pretty sure that was the last bon fire we ever made over there. We continued to see the dog lady every once in a while. She never spoke to us, but always gave us the dirty looks. At one point we never saw her again. One time, when we were exploring in the hills we found a place in one of the gullies that looked like someone had made a little cave. There was garbage all over the area. Empty food containers and tin cans, old clothes and blankets. It looked like someone that had been homeless had lived there. I am not sure if it was her, but there was a good chance that it was. If it was her home, I imagine that she probably kept the dogs for protection as much as intimidating little boys.
I'm loving this peek at your childhood!
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