Beverly Marsaw was a “tough old bird,” when I was kid, and I mean that as an utmost compliment. No one gave her shit because if they did, she gave it back and sometimes double.
Sadly, she passed away just days before Thanksgiving at 98 years young. Honestly, I did not know much about her, but now, I understand more than I did, including the fact that she was the eldest daughter of Tony Ramos.
After the 1964 flood and before Del Norte County condemned Mr. Ramos’ grocery store in the old Klamath townsite, Mom, with my brother and me in tow, and with Bev, would visit the Ramos’, who lived above their store.
The four adults would talk loud and laugh louder while Adam and I played with a box full of toys Mr. Ramos retrieved from one of the back rooms. It is where I first heard about how, in 1955, my Mom and Grandpa Jack climbed onto the roof of Grampa’s bar, the Three-Sevens, and escaped to the top of Mr. Ramos’ store before the bar washed away.
No wonder I thought the Ramos’ were my cousins all these years!
Bev used to come to our home, where she and Mom would drink Gallo wine poured from a big old green glass jug or sometimes Portuguese Galao coffee, eat anise bread and talk. Once Mom began to work at the Trees of Mystery, Bev would pick her up and take her there because Mom didn’t have a driver’s license.
Looking back, what was not funny then is hilarious now is hearing my parents arguing about Bev not having her driver’s license either, yet insisting on teaching my Mom how to drive. My Dad lost the argument, as in 1976, my Mom passed her driving test.
I do not know if Bev ever got her driver’s license, but should I learn that she didn’t, I’ll probably laugh until I pee myself.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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