Mountain Views News, Sierra Madre Edition [Pasadena] Saturday, March 30, 2019

MVNews this week:  Page A:3





Uncle Dick was one of 11 children born in 
Burlington New Jersey on February 11, 1929. 

He never had children of his own. His nieces 
and nephews and grandnieces and nephews 
were so much a part of his life and he so much 
a part of ours. He played such a special role 
in our lives – hero, mentor, companion and 
the best cheerer-upper when there was a crisis 
in our lives. He filled our years with such 
happy memories. Many had their own special 
stories to tell at the Celebration of his life his 
family held recently. 

Our Uncle Dick passed away at Huntington 
Memorial on February 28 with nieces Linda 
Heaton, Mikki Porretta and Michael Ann 
Schulz by his bedside. 

He is survived by his brother George A. 
Maurer, many nieces and nephews in 
California, Arizona, Texas, Oregon, New 
Jersey, Pennsylvania and Florida. We will miss him every day. 

“It takes a lifetime for someone to discover Greece, but it only takes an instant

to fall in love with her. The light of Greece opened my eyes, 

penetrated my pores, expanded my whole being.” Henry Miller

“Work tip: Stand up. Stretch. Take a walk. Go to the airport.

Get on a plane. Go to Greece. Never return.”

“If Greece is completely destroyed what will remain is an olive tree,

a vine and a boat. This is enough to begin again.” Odysseas Elytis

“When God was handing out the lands on earth he called the representatives of all tribes to meet 
at noon on a certain date. After a night of revelry, the Greeks showed up late only to find God had 
already allocated each tribe its land. As usual, the Greeks grumbled, so finally God conceded. ‘There 
are no more lots available except one I had kept for myself,’ – and He gave them Greece. Truth or 
fiction, this is truly a blessed land.” Nikos Michaellan

A few weeks ago, the Mountain Views News own restaurant/food/wine expert, Peter Dills, recounted 
his Greek vacation which brought back to mind our own Greek vacation, which was in June of 1997. 
Fortunately, I kept copious trip notes and assembled a photo album which was perfection in its 
organization and chronology. As this was back when all pictures were camera only, we have lots of 
them. Immediate memories: weather was perfect, people were friendly, places were fabulous and the 
food...oh my, the food!

We were fortunate to be on a tour with friends on an 85’ motor-sailer with cabins for eight couples. 
There was a crew of four, who were the most charming, accommodating, pleasant guys imaginable. 
Our chef, Angelo, a man in his sixties, created incredible gourmet meals in a space about as big as a 
dining room table. Fresh coffeecake every morning, platters of fresh fruit and everyone could order 
whatever they wanted, omelets, pancakes, bacon and eggs. The bread in Greece was fabulous. And the 
dinners...oh, the dinners...fresh linens daily, several wineglasses and place settings, embossed bone 
china and simple, perfect fish, veggies, salads.

We arrived in Athens and, as Peter Dills commented, Athens is hot! When we arrived they had just 
settled a garbage strike but had not yet gotten around to collecting the mountains of garbage and 
trash heaped on every corner. Odoriferous doesn’t even begin to describe it! Our hotel, the Athens 
Gate, had a wonderful view of the Acropolis from the rooftop. The Acropolis at night, all lighted, was 
unforgettable. The Plaka (marketplace) was a block away and we shopped. And ate! Bread, of course, 
calamari, moussaka, eggplant, feta cheese, humus, and fantastic fish. Walking around the restaurants 
was a hoot! The proprietor would come out, grab you by the arm, invite you in to have a seat right this 
minute, take you right into the kitchen, give you bites of everything and show you his fresh fish and 
lobsters. And, speaking of lobsters, these guys were two feet long and sooo succulent. And the wine. 
Yes, we had wine.

Our first port of call after Athens was St. George then on to Kythnos where we walked up into the hills 
above the tiny town and saw how beautiful the countryside was. Fig trees, olive trees, sheep, goats, 
an old couple harvesting their grain with scythes, centuries-old stone walls terracing off the land and 
dazzlingly white houses overlooking a sea so deeply blue. No traffic, no tourists. Perfect. Then on to 
Sifnos where I bought my only Greek purchase, a beautiful ceramic plate, which hangs on my wall, 
as you can see, right now. This town makes their own ceramic ware, all hand painted and fired there, 
each piece signed.

Our boat was parked in the harbor at Kameras close to where the ferry comes in three times daily. 
This ferry was huge, about the size of the big white boats that used to go to Catalina, and it would 
come roaring into the harbor about 20 knots per hour, skid up to the dock, toss down a gangplank; 
cars, trucks, semi-trailers, people would all race off with the crew yelling at them to hurry up. There 
were a whole bunch of Greek women and a few men waiting for the ferry and they started singing 
songs and all joining in, harmonizing. Next thing you knew, they were dancing their Greek dances 
and having the best time. 

Space won’t permit me to go on, dear friends and neighbors, but I promise I’ll continue in a week or 
two. No, I don’t work for the Greek Tourism Board, but this was a glorious time in a glorious place 
and I’d love to share it with you. Efharisto! Thank you.

My book page: Deanne Davis – check out

The Crown,

now that Easter is on its way.

 It will change your perspective on what happened on the Hill called Golgotha.

Star of Wonder the CD is now on TuneCore! Take a look!


Follow me on Twitter, too! 

KATIE Tse..........This and That


 As you can probably guess from the title, it hasn’t been a particularly 
newsworthy week.

 Let’s start out with saying that my husband’s a very romantic guy. So much 
so that he bought me a pack of toilet paper as one of my Christmas gifts. What’s 
more pathetic is that I was actually excited about it! You see, in addition to 
mastering romance at its finest, my husband has also mastered the highest art of 
thriftiness. Meaning that if toilet paper’s not on sale, he’s not buying it. That is, 
unless it’s Christmas or my birthday. But still, I love him.

 Not to imply that we live without toilet paper, we’re not total barbarians. I just get anxious if we 
have less than, say, four rolls in the cupboard. Lately we hadn’t gotten around to picking any up. 
We were down to one roll and I was really stressing. I mean, it’s not that I can’t just go to the store 
and buy it myself, which I do sometimes. But often I think of these things after the fact, like when I 
discover there’s only one or two rolls left. 

 My husband was recently getting ready to leave for a week-long business trip, around the same 
time that we ran out of toilet paper. I asked my parents if we could take some of theirs, just until we 
got around to hitting the market. They live six blocks south of us.

 “What’s this?” my husband asked, picking up a roll of 1-ply toilet paper from my parents.

 “What? It’s toilet paper!” I told him. Nothing says “marriage” like stating the obvious to one 

 “But it’s ONE-ply,” my husband grimaced. 
“One-ply’s a crime against humanity!”

 “Oh, come on! It’s not that bad!” I have 
lower standards than he does. “Besides, you’ll 
be gone all week. You won’t have to use it.”

 “Good thing!” He dropped it like a piece 
of infected tissue.

 We agreed that we’d give my parents two 
rolls to make up for the two they gave us as 
soon as we went shopping. 

 The week came and went, and he surprised 
me by buying a lovely new package of 
luxurious 2-ply toilet paper --I told you he’s 
very romantic!

 “You’ll have to take two rolls down to your 
parents,” he told me. “Wait, I think there’s 
still a roll of your dad’s one-ply you didn’t use. 
You can take that back to him and a nice roll 
of two-ply, just to let them see how the other 
half lives!”

 I did that and took both down to my 
parents. At first they didn’t seem impressed 
until I asked if they’d tried the 2-ply a few 
days later. My mom was ecstatic.

 “Oh! I like that nice toilet paper [Nicky] 
picked up for us!” she told me. Names have 
been changed to protect the innocent.

 This conversation occurred shortly after 
lunch, when my mom was leaving to take a 
nap on the back deck. She kept extolling the 
virtues of 2-ply as she went outside.

 “So soft! I just love it! [Jack], can you see 
if you can get some of that nice toilet paper 
Nicky bought?”

 My dad sighed. I laughed. My dad has 
even lower standards than I do. Just for kicks, 
I asked Mom what she liked about the 2-ply 
versus the 1-ply.

 “Oh! That old stuff is HORRIBLE! So thin! 
I just can’t stand it. Tell me, where does Nicky buy that lovely toilet paper?”

 “Any supermarket,” I told her. “Literally, any of them.”

 “Oh, it’s just wonderful! I simply love it!”

 “If that’s the case, do you mind if I write about it for my column this week? Seeing as I have 
nothing else earth shattering to share with the good people of Sierra Madre?”

 “Oh no! That would be embarrassing!”

 I asked her to think of it as a public service announcement, for all the people who’ve gone their 
whole lives suffering the misery of 1-ply when there’s 2-ply to be had. 

 If you’re reading this today, you know that my mom consented. Because, after all, 1-ply is simply 
a crime against humanity. 

Mountain Views News 80 W Sierra Madre Blvd. No. 327 Sierra Madre, Ca. 91024 Office: 626.355.2737 Fax: 626.609.3285 Email: Website:

Mountain Views News 80 W Sierra Madre Blvd. No. 327 Sierra Madre, Ca. 91024 Office: 626.355.2737 Fax: 626.609.3285 Email: Website: