It was fun to see the film on OPB about the University of Washington’s rowing team in the 1936 Olympics while I was still reading “The Boys in the Boat.” It’s really a page-turner. What a story, but reading is more difficult for me these days. Getting at it, that is.

The Pearl of Seaside, a hotel in the embryonic stage, will not be on Beach Avenue, since we don’t have one. That path is called Beach Drive, in harmony with Roosevelt Drive, Holladay Drive and Necanicum Drive. Ah, well — need I reiterate that streets run north and south, and avenues go east and west, while drives are special places one just learns, though they are north and south as well.

I spent the evening of Aug. 5 watching the pageantry of the Parade of Nations in the Rio Olympics. Gee! How many countries were there? Wasn’t it a little ironic that this year’s theme was the environment? As always, it was a thrill to see our team come onto the field. I think they said over 500 contestants, but every group was colorful and exciting. Some of the countries I’d never heard of and I missed the explanation of the trees carried in by the children. Probably they will be planted to mark this special year. Each of the athletes seemed elated and it’s at such times one has hope for the world. Especially gratifying was the refugee team. The whole production was fabulous, overlooked by Christ of the Andes.

One day I actually used the TV Guide to determine my televiewing. I had decided to watch “Red Dust” with Jean Harlow but slept through it and came instead to an oldie called “Reckless.” It was not terrific but good enough to keep my attention ’til the end. When I was about 14 years of age, I saw a movie at the Strand Theater entitled “Hold Your Man,” a picture starring Jean Harlow and Clark Gable. It so moved me that I wrote Jean my first fan letter and she replied. My kids always speculate on the autographed photo she sent me as probably more valuable than it is. Formerly a 9-by-12 glamour shot, one of those kids tore it so that before framing, I had to do some serious trimming. Still, its value to me is considerable. I was so thrilled to get it and her life was so short.

Holladay Drive, hastening toward completion, was known as 7th Street when I was a kid. It may even have been called Main Street, initially. My street, North Lincoln, was once 11th Street because people do like to rearrange the furniture. Outlanders often misspell Holladay, sometimes omitting one “L” or other times, as if it were Christmas or Easter. It’s a small sin. Ben Holladay for whom it was named might not be so generous. Ben had a hotel and racetrack south of the Putter Room.

The “In One Ear” picture of the old Cannon Beach road brought back memories. (Doesn’t everything?) I could almost feel the turns and felt like barfing. To add realism, one would have to change a tire about every three to four miles. We’ve come a long way. The old pictures in The Daily Astorian are always fun, too. I like the 1920 view of the turnaround just a year before the promenade was built. It looks so flat.

Laugh line:

Old is when you see a pretty girl and your pacemaker causes the garage door to go up!