It must be a “guy” thing, but exploring construction sites was a favorite pastime of my friends and mine during our summer between fifth and sixth grades. We’d spend hours climbing up, on and over things, playing “tag” amongst the framing, or looking for just poured cement to memorialize our handprints in. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the safest place for a bunch of kids to play.
I’m sure that most people paint a picture of the life of a magazine editor as being that of glitz and glamour, attending VIP events, rubbing elbows with celebrities and friends in high (and low) places, but in all reality that couldn’t be further from the truth, at least in my case…I’m no “social butterfly.”
How many people do you know can claim a hit pop song was written about them? Well, for a brief moment in the early ‘70s, I could.
Before I was full blown into Rock-n-Roll and hot rods, I was a genuine, card-carrying, oath-swearing, decorated member of the Boy Scouts of America. I know; but at the time it seemed like a good idea.
I’ve always been a collector of things, I’m not sure why. Whether it be rock-n-roll, hot rods, or pop culture, there has always been “something” I just had to have. When I first started working full time and was still living at home, I was able to buy just about anything I wanted, and I still managed to save most of my pennies for a rainy day. I commonly refer to this as my “before the storm” period.
You’d never know it by looking at me, but my family has a long history in local farming. I can trace it back to 1893 when my great-great-grandfather, Calvin B. Alexander, came from Indiana and bought his first acreage in Kern County in what has become known as Alexander’s Corner (more widely known as Weedpatch).