Back we go to my home town of Larkspur, California for another view of the Rainbow Market
, where my father worked
for several years in the mid-1950s. The linked photos and their comments give plenty of background, so here I'll just mention a couple childhood memories this one dredges up (I was 9 at the time my brother took this Anscochrome slide). The hulking 1930s black sedan belonged to my mother's friend Mrs. Skala, who a year later bought a 1956 Plymouth from Hil Probert, whose DeSoto-Plymouth dealership was across the street from our house a couple blocks away. My mother was incensed that Probert allegedly talked the 60ish lady into a model with the push-button automatic transmission. "Imagine the poor woman trying to learn how to use something like that at her age. The idea." Well, that's a paraphrase, but I never did hear if Mrs. Skala had any problems. Mr. Gilardi, the butcher who's billed on the market's window, had a portion of one finger missing from some slicing or chopping mishap, so naturally that's what I always stared at while my mother talked pot roast or ground chuck with him. Or maybe that was Charlie Young, the butcher at Fred Schefer's Food Center next door to the right. We switched our trade to the Food Center after my father left the Epidendios' employ. Final period note: on the telephone pole, a poster for the United Crusade, a charity forerunner of the United Way. That and the March of Dimes were annual Larkspur events I recall, although I was probably more interested in fantasizing about the dimes being potential fodder for my coin collection.
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