Cowboys and Parrotheads

My sister, Meg, and I hosted a lunch and tour for several members of the Williamsburg Film Festival Board at the Garner Ranch last week. The Festival celebrates the good old "B" western movies of cowboy heroes like Gene Autry, Tim Holt, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and of course, John Wayne. They like the "A" movies too. Bill Sasser, board president, told me his all-time favorite is The Searchers featuring the "Duke" and a very young Natalie Wood. Our ranch historian, Kathy J, was there to offer some ranch background. She was also happy to learn from the guys because they know more about westerns than Wikipedia. Papa Jack was on hand to share his stories. Everyone likes the one about Jack getting paid to "assist" Hopalong Cassidy, which mostly entailed tying the star into his saddle so he wouldn't fall off the horse. Kathy and I left around 3 PM to drive Jack home to Irvine and the Festival guys were still wandering around taking pictures. One thing we never asked was why the biggest and best-known Western film festival is in Virginia and not some place like Wyoming or Montana or even Southern California. I'll have to ask my new friend, Bill...

Our week went from cowboys to parrotheads when Meg, Ted and Hannah joined Gary and me for the Jimmy Buffett concert at Irvine's Verizon Amphitheatre on Saturday. We didn't take an RV, but we did take Gary's F-250 truck and had a fantastic tailgate party, albeit without taking our clothes off like many of the other people in the vicinity. We had a flag with "IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE" flying from the truck, plus a blow-up Margaritaville airplane (a G-rated change from some of the X-rated blow-up items on display in the RV area), lots of fishnet, a rattan table for our margarita bar and we barbecued cheeseburgers in paradise. A nearby truck was blasting Buffett tunes on giant speakers, so we didn't need our little boom box. We roamed through the RV area, mostly in amazement at all the antics, and decided at one point it would be wise to put a blindfold on 14 year-old Hannah. She loved every minute of watching adults gone wild and stupid. Her favorite sign was "SHOW YOUR RACK FOR IRAQ" - but we didn't see any activity. There were more people willing to take up the offer of "Shooters for Hooters" and "Daquiris for Dicks." The whole experience gave new meaning to the term, "Trailer Trash." And of course, we'll gladly go back again next year when Buffett graces Orange County with his barefoot band of merry Coral Reefers and island-style joy.