Write me a Letter

eastward, inland, for a couple of hours you’d wind up, if you weren’t careful, in Stockton or Sacramento . If you hit a left, you could enroll in civic disorder at the University of California , Berkeley , if you should so desire. North lay deltas and oysters; Jack London country. Did you know Jack started as an oyster pirate, then later got a job catching oyster pirates? Anyway, so claimed this pint-sized fount of information I ran into later that evening in the Round-up Saloon in Lafayette . We’d decided to spend the night there as it was getting on for eight o’clock when we hit town and we were both flagging somewhat.
    I booked us separate rooms in the shingle-fronted Ponderosa Pine Inn, a hostelry just off Lafayette ’s main drag, Mt. Diablo Boulevard . A leaflet in my room, kindly supplied by the local Rotary Club, informed me that the Ponderosa, and the Monterey pine, unlike the coast redwood, or sequoia , were only introduced in the nearby reservoir park in the 1930s. Well! Maybe me and Uncle Theo could go for a row around the reservoir manana before leaving, that’d be oodles of fun. We might even be able to catch a glimpse of the rare Chinese pistachio (pistacbe chinensis).
    After I’d cleaned up a bit, I collected a newly bathed and freshly attired Uncle Theo from his room and we crossed Mt. Diablo Boulevard to Freddie’s Pizza, which had been recommended to us by a helpful lady at the check-in desk. I didn’t think the odds were too good on finding an Estonian eatery in town. We had to wait awhile for service, as Freddie’s was jumping with high school kids, whole families, pops waiting for takeout orders, and so on, all of which was a good sign. Theo went through his half of the large, extra cheese, anchovies, olives, and garlic pizza almost as quickly as I devoured mine. Delicious, Freddie, and I told a pleased Freddie so on the way out. He gave me a gift of a green whistle with the name of his emporium on it, and presented Uncle Theo with a red lollipop, I guess he figured they had enough whistles already in Estonia .
    I escorted Theo back to his room, pointed to ten o’clock on my watch, and said, ”Tomorrow.”
    ”OK,” he said, in English. I grinned.
    ”Dobrei vietcher,” I said, which means goodnight.
    ”Good night,” he said, which means dobrei vietcher. We shook hands formally. He went into his room. I waited till I heard him lock his door, then dropped in the aforementioned Round-Up Saloon after a short stroll around town to stretch my legs and my lungs a bit. Bill’s Drugs, across the road from Freddie’s, was just closing up. The post office, like our hotel, was disguised behind old-fashioned wooden shingles. The streets were clean, the drivers sedate, the cars and station wagons large, new, and expensive. The color of the citizenry was white.
    To be truthful, I have hung around a lot of bars in my time. Occasionally they’ve hung around me, but I put that down to the thoughtless follies of flaming youth. The Round-Up was just my kind of bar—large, rambling, with lots of wood, a couple of pool tables, a pretty girl in short cutoffs behind the bar, chilled steins for the beer, and hanging all over the walls, an assortment of bridles, types of bits, reins, and other leather and metalware associated with the horsey life, of which there was plenty in the hills and dales around Lafayette.
    Deer, too, according to the geezer on the next bar stool, the expert on Jack London and shellfish who’d started talking to me the moment I’d sat down beside him and so far hadn’t stopped except to take the occasional swig of beer. Like I said, he was a little shaver, dressed in brown jeans tucked into cowboy boots, a checked wool shirt, and a cap that said ”I’ve been to San Diego Sea World.”
    ”Deer, eh?” I said politely. ”No kidding...”
    ”Jenny!” he called out. ”How about a couple more down here for me and Slim.”
    ”Sure, Mike,” she called back. ”Be right over.”
    ”That’s right decent of you, Mike,” I said.
    ”What the hell, it’s only money,” he said. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. ”Thing is, I’m leaving town tomorrow, OK? I’ve had enough. I’ve been working for this fat-assed dude owns a car lot, he dumped his load on me once too often so I am off on the morning train.”
    ”I hear Canada is nice this time of year,” I said.
    ” Canada , shmanada,” Mike said. ”I can get a job anywhere, anytime, like that.” He snapped