The Dirty Dishes of Others

Years and years ago on Pacific Coast Highway south of Malibu, in the shadow of Castellamare, where now there are only a few weeds at the asphalt’s edge, Ted’s Rancho Restaurant once stood. I became a man there.

Actually, while working there first as a busboy and then as a parking attendant, I became a slightly older teenager.

The gruff, ass-pinching bos…