My wife was out of town the other night, a quick trip to Sedona to spend an evening with her brother, who was vacationing there. I was left alone to fend for myself and Hobie the Rat Terrier. It was quite a night; we had our first monsoon in weeks. It knocked out the satellite, so I wasn’t able to see all of Grizzly Park, in which a deranged killer, and deranged bear seek out eight young campers. Probably the only time that one will be on the tele.
Hobie and I were having meatballs for dinner. Meatballs and marinara sauce to be exact.
Feeding Hobie gave me a flashback to 1974, when a friend and I were living in Cave Creek, Arizona. This was back when people didn’t know that Cave Creek existed. Donaldo and I had become gainfully employed restaurant workers at Joe Connolly’s Elbow Bend. Like most 18 year olds at the time as soon as we got our first paychecks we bolted out of our folks’ houses and rented an apartment in Cave Creek.
Our first place, a two-bedroom apartment behind the old Circle K was a whopping $160 a month, plus utilities. It didn’t take us long to tire of the high rent district, and we found a “cottage” behind the Herb Pot restaurant for only $100 a month. Now this was living.
Just down the road from us was The Maverick, a watering hole where a lot of restaurant workers headed at the end of the night. It was pretty basic, a slump block building, and inside a couple of pool tables, a shuffle game, plenty of cold beer, and a juke box, (which was my introduction to C&W music).
We’d walk down there after work, and Conrad, my cat would cruise down there with us. He’d hang out around the phone booth chasing moths that were attracted by the light. Stu, the bartender wouldn’t let him in...an age thing I think. When we finished up we’d head out, collect Conrad and head home, with him lagging a bit behind us. He never would keep pace with us.
Here’s where it all comes together. I don’t remember what minimum wage was in ’74, but it wasn’t much. To help stretch out our resources, we’d take home the extra spaghetti and meatballs which were a weekly special. Conrad developed a great taste for spaghetti and meatballs that amazed my mother once she found out. I still love them. That’s it, full story!
Hobie and I were having meatballs for dinner. Meatballs and marinara sauce to be exact.
Feeding Hobie gave me a flashback to 1974, when a friend and I were living in Cave Creek, Arizona. This was back when people didn’t know that Cave Creek existed. Donaldo and I had become gainfully employed restaurant workers at Joe Connolly’s Elbow Bend. Like most 18 year olds at the time as soon as we got our first paychecks we bolted out of our folks’ houses and rented an apartment in Cave Creek.
Our first place, a two-bedroom apartment behind the old Circle K was a whopping $160 a month, plus utilities. It didn’t take us long to tire of the high rent district, and we found a “cottage” behind the Herb Pot restaurant for only $100 a month. Now this was living.
Just down the road from us was The Maverick, a watering hole where a lot of restaurant workers headed at the end of the night. It was pretty basic, a slump block building, and inside a couple of pool tables, a shuffle game, plenty of cold beer, and a juke box, (which was my introduction to C&W music).
We’d walk down there after work, and Conrad, my cat would cruise down there with us. He’d hang out around the phone booth chasing moths that were attracted by the light. Stu, the bartender wouldn’t let him in...an age thing I think. When we finished up we’d head out, collect Conrad and head home, with him lagging a bit behind us. He never would keep pace with us.
Here’s where it all comes together. I don’t remember what minimum wage was in ’74, but it wasn’t much. To help stretch out our resources, we’d take home the extra spaghetti and meatballs which were a weekly special. Conrad developed a great taste for spaghetti and meatballs that amazed my mother once she found out. I still love them. That’s it, full story!
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