So earlier this summer my neighbor that lives behind my lot was putting up a new fence. The heavy winter had blown the old one down, too much snow, too much wind, and those old 4x4 posts were getting rotten. Craig propped it up with some pieces of pipe temporarily. So one day I see him building the new fence and I walk over to say howdy. Craig and his wife Lynn are very nice folks, about my age and they keep their house and yard nice and are always friendly. So as I'm talking with them I ask what they're going to do with the old fence. He wants to cut some of it up to make bird houses and the rest will go to the dump. I ask if I can have the rest to which he readily agrees; saving him dump fees and I get free wood. Bit by bit I've been trying to dismantle the six foot sections which Craig stacked neatly in the lot. The fence boards are very dry and brittle so they crack easily. I figure if nothing else I'll use it for firewood. So from time to time I go over with my hammer and try and pry a few boards loose. I've been saving the nails, bent and crooked as they may be. Which brings me to this...
Right around '67 or '68 my folks bought 32 acres of property in Garden Valley, which is a remote area north of Placerville and Coloma, up in the mother lode region where gold was discovered in the 1800's. The property was beautiful rolling hills, two springs, some trees, and lots of open space. No buildings, no water line, no sewer or electricity... but nice! There was an old barbed wire fence that was in disrepair but other than that it was just bare land. My folks vision was to build a ranch there, from scratch; an ambitious goal, to put it mildly. I don't think we ever intended on moving there permanently; it was more of a weekend place or a summer getaway type thing.
One day, when I came home from school, my dad said he needed my help to tear down a little one room cabin/storage shed building out in Meyers. I recruited my friend Rob Calvert, who had a pickup, to help. The place was just a small, one room structure with a corrugated metal roof. My mom and dad did most of the work. Rob and I mostly just hauled away the stuff that couldn't be reused to the landfill. Dad saved every board, the window, door, and yes, even the nails. The boards, the tin roof, all of it was stacked on the side of the driveway at our house on Glennwood.
My dad would make weekly trips with his pick up loaded with these old boards down to "The Ranch." One of my jobs was to straighten the nails. Hold the nail by its head, lay it on the work bench, and tap it with a hammer to get it into something resembling straightness. The ones that were really bent over, I put in a vice. I had 2 coffee cans full of nails, the bent ones and the ones I "fixed." A regular little assembly line!
So my dad, the self taught carpenter, built this one room cabin at our new ranch in Garden Valley. Now, granted, it looked nothing like the building it was up at the lake; my dad just sort of eyeballed it and, with no plans or anything, he built a new cabin using old wood, the tin roof, and even my somewhat straightened nails.
It was a fine little cabin. Mom and Dad had a bed in one corner and my brother Eric and I had cots and sleeping bags off to the sides. By this time we had electricity run in and a well dug. So we had running water and electricity but we had no toilet. Dad built an outhouse about 50 yards from the cabin out of some more old lumber. This was 1968 so the outhouse was named "The Far Out House." My Mom and Dad had put in a small wood stove, a refrigerator, sink unit, and even a little 12 foot, snap together above ground pool to cool off in during the hot summer days. We all kidded my dad about about the cabin even though it was built real well. We ended up naming the cabin "Cattywampus" as in maybe a little crooked or off kilter. We had the fine little one room cabin and outhouse but now we needed cows and horses. So my dad buys a pair of Black Angus yearlings in Gardnerville and loads them into a U-Haul trailer... an enclosed trailer! He shows up at the the Tahoe house and says he needs my help with the cows he's taking to the ranch. I go out into the driveway and sure enough there are 2 cows inside this little trailer and the thing has no air vents. I crack the door and brace myself against it to give them some air. So Dad and I head over Echo with the cows, stopping frequently to crack the doors so they get some fresh air... crazy. The cows made it fine and I hosed out the trailer once we unloaded them at the ranch. Lottsa cow shit on the inside of that little U-Haul, that's for sure!
My dad kept building and fixing things on the property. I helped string new barb wire fence along the front of the property as well as help build a wooden fenced entry way from the road. Dad made a large hanging sign on the arch over the entrance that read, "ROCKING R RANCH", spelled out in white rope on a dark stained piece of wood. That name, "Rocking R" has been in my family as long as I can remember and now it was becoming a reality. We had a few horses and a burro and some cows. Everything was going along good. Every chance we got we'd leave the lake and go to the ranch. At night I'd lay on my army cot in my Coleman sleeping bag and listen to the rain pelting the tin roof, my brother Eric to the left of me in his sleeping bag, Mom and Dad in the corner in a small bed. All was right in the world.
Then things began to change. It was the late 60's and a lot was goin' on. Protests against the war in Vietnam, rock and roll, sex, drugs; hell, people were rebelling about everything. It was a chaotic time and I jumped in with both feet (bare feet, of course) with a big smile on my face. I didn't go to the ranch as much as I used to but my folks forged ahead. They heard of some horses for sale in Idaho - not just a few but fifty. Yes, 50 horses. Some old guy had a herd and he was in bad health and wanted to sell the whole lot of them. They weren't in the best of shape; hooves overgrown, skinny, and only green broke. Green broke is a horse that's just barely used to humans. You can't ride them as they won't stand for being saddled, let alone brushed or fed by hand. I guess you could say they're just a bit below being full-on wild horses. They were all registered half Arabians with papers, but we found it near impossible to match which horse to which paper. Dad had a large corral built and a bunch of stalls where they could feed and get out of the sun. Also a squeeze chute was built so we could inoculate and tube worm the horses.
A squeeze chute is two fences that come together into a "Y" that funnels into a narrow fenced enclosure with no room for the animal to move. Once you push, pull, or drag the horse in there you slide boards in behind it so it can't back out. So this is how you do it. You corral maybe ten horses at a time and approach them slowly with lasso in hand. Be sure to be wearing leather gloves and a good pair of boots. Spot one horse and stay focused and calm. If the horse doesn't get spooked you may be able to walk up slowly and place the rope around his neck and lead him to the chute where the veterinarian is waiting with the syringe and worm medicine. But all too often the horses panicked and it was rodeo time. Good thing I watched all those Roy Rogers films as a kid! I actually roped some of those crazy horses and dug in my heels as we tried to herd the beast into the chute.
Tube worming was quite an experience, for the horses as well as myself. Once you get the frightened horse into the chute the vet jabs him in the hind quarters with two different shots. The next thing you do is try and grab him under the jaw and lift his head. You have a quart bottle of de-worming liquid that's attached to a length of surgical tubing and at the end is a nozzle that you insert into the horses nostril and then pour in the medicine into the horses nose. Challenging? You bet! Fun? No! I did about ten horses and that was it for me. The horses were terrified and I was exhausted. My folks ended up hiring a guy named Twister Heller and his wife to finish the job and start breaking and training the horses.
We were now in over our heads in this venture. The price of alfalfa and oats was on the rise and there wasn't much of a market for barely ride-able horses. Eventually my folks sold the ranch and the horses and things returned to normal... well, sort of anyway. My folks did lots of things as I was growing up that made me scratch my head and go, "What?" But the 50-horse deal definitely ranks in the top 10 in the "What?" category.
So this all came to me as I was pulling out some bent nails from some old fence next door. Yes, I will straighten the nails and yes, I will re-use those old boards. Who knows, maybe I'll build a cabin with a tin roof.
Happy Trails, Bob
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Winter in the Mountains
Jason Milby's first year living in his cabin by the lake was quite a learning experience. The first thing he learned was why he got the place so cheap. There was little or no insulation in the walls and gaps around the front door and windows were letting in the cold air. It was fine that first summer but on the cooler nights of autumn the two electric heaters were on constantly. The wood stove became a central part of the cabin. Milby and cat in the rocking chair soaking up the heat from the little wood stove. He didn't have a whole lot of firewood when he moved in and what he had was going fast.
There was a small shed behind the cabin and in there were some old rusty and well worn tools left behind by the previous owner. A few shovels, an ax and hatchet, two hand saws, and a wheelbarrow, along with an assortment of odds and ends. Jason got in the habit of loading up the wheelbarrow with a saw and ax and going out looking for wood. Once he'd collected everything close by he started to expand his search across the dirt road that ran behind his place and up the hill. He found a couple of dead trees that had blown over in a storm so he got right to work. He made many trips with the wheelbarrow and had a pretty good stack along the side of his cabin. Although this gave him some degree of security he knew it wouldn't be enough for winter.
Jay, as he liked to be called now, had bought an old pick up when he left the city. It had a little rust and smoked some when you first started it but over all it was a good truck; the heater worked and so did the four wheel drive. Now he started searching with his truck for more wood. He had some success just going down the dirt road that led to the main two-lane paved road. Since he was this far he figured he'd go to the general store and pick up a few things. The store was only about a mile away once you got on the two-lane and he liked going there to visit with the owners and stock up on provisions for his pantry.
The general store was an interesting place. There were two gas pumps out front along with a pet goose named Patrick. The goose could be pretty aggressive as Jay found out his first time there; wings outstretched, neck bent down, running after you honking and hissing. The trick was to have some kind of treat on you and make a peace offering. Jay found that a little dry cat food from his pocket would make Patrick your friend for life. What always got to Jay was that the store, while not much to look at from outside; weathered wood, a faded sign reading General Store up near the roof; the weird thing was, it seemed bigger on the inside than on the outside. He knew that was impossible but every time he went there he got that same feeling.
The proprietors, Dick and Trudy, were very nice and always busy dusting the rows of cans and jars, sweeping the floor, and generally making things look clean and orderly. The inventory was amazing. Of course there was lots of food, canned goods, jars of fruit, peppers, pickles, dry goods, and just about everything you could think of. They had a cold case for dairy products and another for fresh vegetables. But what was interesting to Jay was all the other stuff; fishing tackle and bait, wool blankets, kerosene lanterns, a small tool section with some home repair items, candles, snow chains, plastic tarps, and on and on. Everything was stacked neatly and in some places went all the way up to the ceiling. That's when Dick would get the ladder and climb up to get an item from the very top.
So Jay fills his little hand held basket and sets it on the counter and visits briefly while getting his purchases rung up on the antique cash register. Just then the little bell that's above the door rings announcing another customer. It's Erik, the county road worker that Jay had met at the store earlier on one of his shopping trips. He asks Jay how he's fixed for firewood and Jay says he's alright for now. Erik asks him, "You still at the same cabin?" "Yes," replies Jay. Erik tells him he's got a load of firewood from a road widening project in the dump truck parked out front; he was on his way to have it chipped to be used as ground cover. "It's yours if you want it, Jay. I'll bring it by and drop it wherever you want." Jay can't believe his good fortune, free firewood! Before he leaves he buys a tarp to cover his new heat source when he gets home. So now he's set for heat. He sealed up the most obvious gaps that were making the house so cold. There was a small leak in the roof and he patched that.
He was still concerned if he had enough food in the freezer and in the pantry. The dirt road from the lake to the highway doesn't get plowed in the winter. If it's a heavy winter he may get snowed in and have to live off what he has on hand. As he's stacking wood he decides he'd better make at least one more trip to the store to be on the safe side. As he's making a mental check list of what more he needs, two cars stop on the road. It's the Olson's and the Stevens families. They have a pair of cabins side by side further down the shore. Like everyone else at the lake, they're all packing up to go back home as summer is coming to an end. Mr. Olson hollers out, "Jay, you stayin' the winter?" "Sure am," says Jay. Mr. Olson and Mr. Stevens get out of their cars and talk amongst themselves, then walk down to where Jay is still working on the wood. "Jay, we're on our way home and were wondering if you'd like the food we have boxed up that we're taking back with us." Jay at first refuses, saying he was going to the store when he's done with the wood. The two departing visitors offer him a deal. Take the food and in exchange keep an eye on their cabins, as a few had been broken into a few years ago. They all shake hands and it's a deal. They unload the boxes and put them in the pantry. Now Jay has more than enough to get by. Now his only concern is if that old wooden floor can hold all that weight!
Jay takes his new responsibility seriously. Every day he walks the shore line down to the cabins to check to make sure the doors are locked and everything is secure. Oh, and of course he brings his fishing pole with cat staying close by his side as the new "unofficial caretaker" makes his rounds.
It was a good thing all the summer people left when they did; the first snow came in early October. Cat was not too excited about the snow, so she made herself content curled up on the seat of the rocker with the occasional break to look out the window at the birds and squirrels in the trees and on the front deck, scrambling to get the birdseed that Jay put out every morning. So Jay and cat were ready for their first winter in the cabin by the lake. Lots of firewood, a full pantry and freezer, and plenty of books plus his radio. In the back of the shed he found and old pair of snowshoes, he might just try those out sometime if the snow gets too deep. Life was good at the lake.
....to be continued....
There was a small shed behind the cabin and in there were some old rusty and well worn tools left behind by the previous owner. A few shovels, an ax and hatchet, two hand saws, and a wheelbarrow, along with an assortment of odds and ends. Jason got in the habit of loading up the wheelbarrow with a saw and ax and going out looking for wood. Once he'd collected everything close by he started to expand his search across the dirt road that ran behind his place and up the hill. He found a couple of dead trees that had blown over in a storm so he got right to work. He made many trips with the wheelbarrow and had a pretty good stack along the side of his cabin. Although this gave him some degree of security he knew it wouldn't be enough for winter.
Jay, as he liked to be called now, had bought an old pick up when he left the city. It had a little rust and smoked some when you first started it but over all it was a good truck; the heater worked and so did the four wheel drive. Now he started searching with his truck for more wood. He had some success just going down the dirt road that led to the main two-lane paved road. Since he was this far he figured he'd go to the general store and pick up a few things. The store was only about a mile away once you got on the two-lane and he liked going there to visit with the owners and stock up on provisions for his pantry.
The general store was an interesting place. There were two gas pumps out front along with a pet goose named Patrick. The goose could be pretty aggressive as Jay found out his first time there; wings outstretched, neck bent down, running after you honking and hissing. The trick was to have some kind of treat on you and make a peace offering. Jay found that a little dry cat food from his pocket would make Patrick your friend for life. What always got to Jay was that the store, while not much to look at from outside; weathered wood, a faded sign reading General Store up near the roof; the weird thing was, it seemed bigger on the inside than on the outside. He knew that was impossible but every time he went there he got that same feeling.
The proprietors, Dick and Trudy, were very nice and always busy dusting the rows of cans and jars, sweeping the floor, and generally making things look clean and orderly. The inventory was amazing. Of course there was lots of food, canned goods, jars of fruit, peppers, pickles, dry goods, and just about everything you could think of. They had a cold case for dairy products and another for fresh vegetables. But what was interesting to Jay was all the other stuff; fishing tackle and bait, wool blankets, kerosene lanterns, a small tool section with some home repair items, candles, snow chains, plastic tarps, and on and on. Everything was stacked neatly and in some places went all the way up to the ceiling. That's when Dick would get the ladder and climb up to get an item from the very top.
So Jay fills his little hand held basket and sets it on the counter and visits briefly while getting his purchases rung up on the antique cash register. Just then the little bell that's above the door rings announcing another customer. It's Erik, the county road worker that Jay had met at the store earlier on one of his shopping trips. He asks Jay how he's fixed for firewood and Jay says he's alright for now. Erik asks him, "You still at the same cabin?" "Yes," replies Jay. Erik tells him he's got a load of firewood from a road widening project in the dump truck parked out front; he was on his way to have it chipped to be used as ground cover. "It's yours if you want it, Jay. I'll bring it by and drop it wherever you want." Jay can't believe his good fortune, free firewood! Before he leaves he buys a tarp to cover his new heat source when he gets home. So now he's set for heat. He sealed up the most obvious gaps that were making the house so cold. There was a small leak in the roof and he patched that.
He was still concerned if he had enough food in the freezer and in the pantry. The dirt road from the lake to the highway doesn't get plowed in the winter. If it's a heavy winter he may get snowed in and have to live off what he has on hand. As he's stacking wood he decides he'd better make at least one more trip to the store to be on the safe side. As he's making a mental check list of what more he needs, two cars stop on the road. It's the Olson's and the Stevens families. They have a pair of cabins side by side further down the shore. Like everyone else at the lake, they're all packing up to go back home as summer is coming to an end. Mr. Olson hollers out, "Jay, you stayin' the winter?" "Sure am," says Jay. Mr. Olson and Mr. Stevens get out of their cars and talk amongst themselves, then walk down to where Jay is still working on the wood. "Jay, we're on our way home and were wondering if you'd like the food we have boxed up that we're taking back with us." Jay at first refuses, saying he was going to the store when he's done with the wood. The two departing visitors offer him a deal. Take the food and in exchange keep an eye on their cabins, as a few had been broken into a few years ago. They all shake hands and it's a deal. They unload the boxes and put them in the pantry. Now Jay has more than enough to get by. Now his only concern is if that old wooden floor can hold all that weight!
Jay takes his new responsibility seriously. Every day he walks the shore line down to the cabins to check to make sure the doors are locked and everything is secure. Oh, and of course he brings his fishing pole with cat staying close by his side as the new "unofficial caretaker" makes his rounds.
It was a good thing all the summer people left when they did; the first snow came in early October. Cat was not too excited about the snow, so she made herself content curled up on the seat of the rocker with the occasional break to look out the window at the birds and squirrels in the trees and on the front deck, scrambling to get the birdseed that Jay put out every morning. So Jay and cat were ready for their first winter in the cabin by the lake. Lots of firewood, a full pantry and freezer, and plenty of books plus his radio. In the back of the shed he found and old pair of snowshoes, he might just try those out sometime if the snow gets too deep. Life was good at the lake.
....to be continued....
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Roy Rogers, Ratnose, and the Round House
In the mid to late '50s I was a big fan of Roy Rogers. I always watched his show every time it was on our little black and white TV. It featured Roy and his horse Trigger, Dale Evans and her horse Buttercup, and their comic sidekick Gabby Hayes who sometimes rode his horse Phineas or drove an old military jeep he named Nellybelle. They usually either fought bad guys or rescued somebody from some dire situation.
There was also lots of singing of western themed songs on the show. Roy had a band called the Sons of the Pioneers. They sang and harmonized really well. When I'd lie in bed at night it would be real dark; the only light coming from the dial of the radio next to my bed. Whenever "Ghost Riders in the Sky" came on I would get kinda spooked but at the same time I liked it; a lot. They had a lot of good songs; "Tumbling Tumbleweeds", "Cool Water," and of course the show ended with "Happy Trails." I had a whole Roy Rogers outfit, cowboy hat, vest, chaps, toy guns, pajamas, and a lunch pail; with Roy Rogers name on all of it.
So one day I'm waiting at the end of our driveway for the school bus to pick me up and take me to Loma Prieta Elementary school. The houses were so far apart in the Santa Cruz Mts. that there wasn't really a bus stop you walked to. They just picked you up at your house. So I climb aboard the bus and right there in the front seat are two hoods right out of one of those bad '50s movies about rebellious teenagers. Hair greased back, t-shirts with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and a menacing sneer on their faces. I could almost hear the sleazy saxophone music in the background. As I walk by them one of them sticks out his foot and trips me, sending me to the floor. My Roy Rogers lunch pail goes flying. I pick myself up, grab my lunch, and find a seat. This went on for some time. Occasionally the bus driver would yell at the hoods but not much came of it. I learned their names were Ratnose and Clancy. They were much bigger than all the other kids on the bus and they were scary. Once, after getting an elbow to the ribs from Ratnose, I'm looking for a seat and this kid says I can sit with him.
His name was Jason and we became fast friends. He had lots of freckles, buck teeth, and always had his mouth open. He also had a tendency to drool on his shirt. He was a little older than me and told me not to worry about Ratnose and Clancy anymore; he'd take care of it. Sure enough the hoods left me alone. Maybe they didn't want to get drooled on.
One afternoon my Mom calls out to me from the kitchen, "Bobby, there's someone here to see you." I run to the door and its Jason asking if I can go to his house to play. I ask my mom and she says yes. We climb into his mom's car and off we go. His mom is talking non-stop and I thought she was talking to us in the back seat but Jason tells me no, she does this all the time. She was having a conversation with herself. We went for quite a ways and she finally turns off onto a gravel road. It winds up and up this mountain until we get to the very top.
I had never seen a house like this before; it's very large and it's round. There's a second story that was a little smaller with lots of windows; it too was round with a round roof. The house looked like a flying saucer built out of wood and glass. There were some old rusting cars and tractors off to one side by a dilapidated old barn. Jason opens up the big double doors and we go inside followed by his mom who, for the time being, has stopped talking to herself. Jason gives me a tour of the house and explains that his dad is an architect and he designed the house and built a lot of it himself. There's a huge sunken round living room and in the middle is a round fireplace with the metal chimney that looked like an upside down funnel suspended by chains from the ceiling. We went outside and played on the rusty tractors and pretended we were driving them. I really wanted to see the little turret type room on the second floor but Jason said that was off limits. That was his dad's office and no one was allowed up there. His mom fixed us some sandwiches for lunch and then drove me home.
This was repeated many times. They'd pick me up; the mom talking to herself; Jason and I would play on the tractors and then go home. Eventually Jason and his mom started giving me a ride to school and back which was great because that meant I didn't have to deal with Ratnose and Clancy.
Then one day they didn't show up and Jason wasn't on the bus. He wasn't at school either so I thought maybe he was sick. After several days he's back on the bus but he looks really different. His head was shaved including his eyebrows. There were cuts and lumps all over his head and he didn't look too happy. He told me his mom was sick and in the hospital and then he just turned away and looked out the window. I think he was crying. Several years later my mom told me that Jason's mom was put in a mental institution. My mom felt bad for letting me ride around with Jason's mom but she didn't know about the lady's mental problems and looking back on it, my mom told me any number of bad things could of happened to me.
We moved away and I don't know what became of Jason, his mom, or Ratnose and Clancy; not that I care much about those last two! I've still got a few Roy Rogers record albums and although my original cowboy outfit is long gone, I bought a boxed set of DVD's of some of his shows and I bought a reproduction of a Roy Rogers lunch pail. So sing along:
"Happy trails to you... until we meet again... happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then....."
The Roy Rogers Show - Happy Trails to You
There was also lots of singing of western themed songs on the show. Roy had a band called the Sons of the Pioneers. They sang and harmonized really well. When I'd lie in bed at night it would be real dark; the only light coming from the dial of the radio next to my bed. Whenever "Ghost Riders in the Sky" came on I would get kinda spooked but at the same time I liked it; a lot. They had a lot of good songs; "Tumbling Tumbleweeds", "Cool Water," and of course the show ended with "Happy Trails." I had a whole Roy Rogers outfit, cowboy hat, vest, chaps, toy guns, pajamas, and a lunch pail; with Roy Rogers name on all of it.
So one day I'm waiting at the end of our driveway for the school bus to pick me up and take me to Loma Prieta Elementary school. The houses were so far apart in the Santa Cruz Mts. that there wasn't really a bus stop you walked to. They just picked you up at your house. So I climb aboard the bus and right there in the front seat are two hoods right out of one of those bad '50s movies about rebellious teenagers. Hair greased back, t-shirts with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and a menacing sneer on their faces. I could almost hear the sleazy saxophone music in the background. As I walk by them one of them sticks out his foot and trips me, sending me to the floor. My Roy Rogers lunch pail goes flying. I pick myself up, grab my lunch, and find a seat. This went on for some time. Occasionally the bus driver would yell at the hoods but not much came of it. I learned their names were Ratnose and Clancy. They were much bigger than all the other kids on the bus and they were scary. Once, after getting an elbow to the ribs from Ratnose, I'm looking for a seat and this kid says I can sit with him.
His name was Jason and we became fast friends. He had lots of freckles, buck teeth, and always had his mouth open. He also had a tendency to drool on his shirt. He was a little older than me and told me not to worry about Ratnose and Clancy anymore; he'd take care of it. Sure enough the hoods left me alone. Maybe they didn't want to get drooled on.
One afternoon my Mom calls out to me from the kitchen, "Bobby, there's someone here to see you." I run to the door and its Jason asking if I can go to his house to play. I ask my mom and she says yes. We climb into his mom's car and off we go. His mom is talking non-stop and I thought she was talking to us in the back seat but Jason tells me no, she does this all the time. She was having a conversation with herself. We went for quite a ways and she finally turns off onto a gravel road. It winds up and up this mountain until we get to the very top.
I had never seen a house like this before; it's very large and it's round. There's a second story that was a little smaller with lots of windows; it too was round with a round roof. The house looked like a flying saucer built out of wood and glass. There were some old rusting cars and tractors off to one side by a dilapidated old barn. Jason opens up the big double doors and we go inside followed by his mom who, for the time being, has stopped talking to herself. Jason gives me a tour of the house and explains that his dad is an architect and he designed the house and built a lot of it himself. There's a huge sunken round living room and in the middle is a round fireplace with the metal chimney that looked like an upside down funnel suspended by chains from the ceiling. We went outside and played on the rusty tractors and pretended we were driving them. I really wanted to see the little turret type room on the second floor but Jason said that was off limits. That was his dad's office and no one was allowed up there. His mom fixed us some sandwiches for lunch and then drove me home.
This was repeated many times. They'd pick me up; the mom talking to herself; Jason and I would play on the tractors and then go home. Eventually Jason and his mom started giving me a ride to school and back which was great because that meant I didn't have to deal with Ratnose and Clancy.
Then one day they didn't show up and Jason wasn't on the bus. He wasn't at school either so I thought maybe he was sick. After several days he's back on the bus but he looks really different. His head was shaved including his eyebrows. There were cuts and lumps all over his head and he didn't look too happy. He told me his mom was sick and in the hospital and then he just turned away and looked out the window. I think he was crying. Several years later my mom told me that Jason's mom was put in a mental institution. My mom felt bad for letting me ride around with Jason's mom but she didn't know about the lady's mental problems and looking back on it, my mom told me any number of bad things could of happened to me.
We moved away and I don't know what became of Jason, his mom, or Ratnose and Clancy; not that I care much about those last two! I've still got a few Roy Rogers record albums and although my original cowboy outfit is long gone, I bought a boxed set of DVD's of some of his shows and I bought a reproduction of a Roy Rogers lunch pail. So sing along:
"Happy trails to you... until we meet again... happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then....."
The Roy Rogers Show - Happy Trails to You
Friday, May 6, 2011
Jason Milby
Jason Milby was a miserable man. He had no friends and was stuck in a dead end job with no chance of advancement. His life was the same every day. Get up, get dressed, and walk to work. His job was boring and redundant just like his life; just keep doing the same thing over and over. He didn't care for the people he worked with in the large nondescript building. They all talked about the scores of last nights games or about their children or any other topic they wanted to foist upon anyone within earshot. The one exception was a girl named Betsy who worked in a different department. She was always kind and helpful. She was concerned about Mr. Milby living alone with no friends, no hobbies, and no family. What relatives he had all lived far away and never called or came to visit.
One day Betsy brought in a kitten and insisted that Mr. Milby take it. He was reluctant but finally agreed. On his walk home he put the kitten in his coat pocket; it's head poking out looking at everything with an occasional little "mew." He stopped by a small grocery store and picked up a bag of groceries for himself and some food and kitty litter for the kitten. He'd never had a cat before but after a short time they became best friends. He never named the cat; just called it "cat." The cat would always greet him at the door to his small apartment when he came home from work. The cat was a small blessing for Jason Milby. At least someone cared about him and he had someone to care for. After a small dinner, cat would curl up on his lap while he read one of his favorite books, usually an adventure novel. Jason Milby would get lost in these books. He imagined himself in some far away jungle hacking away through the the underbrush with his machete or sailing to exotic ports on a three masted ship visiting beautiful deserted islands. But this was not to be, as Jason Milby was in his small apartment with his cat in his lap waiting for another day to pass.
Mr. Milby always took the same route to and from work. He had done this for so many years he often thought to himself he could do it blindfolded, except of course for the intersections with the cars whizzing by. So Jason Milby is on his way home from work with a stop at the small store for a frozen dinner and maybe a treat for cat. He rarely cooked a dinner; just bought things that could be heated up; frozen pizza, canned stew, or soup.
He was almost to the store when he saw a big commotion ahead. Firetrucks, ambulance and police cars. The whole area was blocked off with yellow caution tape. He was directed to use an alternate route by a policeman. There had been a bad accident and no one could enter the area.
Now all the years Mr. Milby lived in this city he had never walked on this other street. He was so close to the market and then just another block to his apartment. He kept looking back over his shoulder at his familiar surroundings wishing he could just go the way he always did.
It was a warm afternoon so he stopped to take off his coat and carry his hat. He even rolled up his shirt sleeves; something he hadn't done since he was a kid. He starts walking and sees an attractive young woman dressed all in white walking in the opposite direction. She smiles and says, "Hello there." Mr. Milby, not used to talking to strangers, especially pretty ones, manages to stammer out, "Uh, hello." Strange, he thinks, I don't know that woman. Why would she say hello to me? Just then a small boy runs past and brushes against Milby's pants leg. The boy stops and says, "Sorry Mister." Milby just smiles and waves to the young lad.
The sun is beating down on his thinning hair and reflecting off his glasses. It reminds him of when he was a boy and his grandfather took him fishing ever so often. The sun bearing down as they sit beside a clear cool mountain lake. Fishing pole in hand; hoping for an interested trout. His grandpa always looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. White stubble covering his lined face with his ever present pipe clenched between his teeth. The smell of the cherry flavored tobacco mixed with scent of the pine trees.
He makes a turn at the corner and is relieved as he's getting closer to home. Half way down the block he spots a small butcher shop. He enters, hoping he can find something for cat and himself. He walks by all the glass cases with steaks, chicken, and pork. He notices, at the very back of the store, a section for fish. The butcher says, "The trout is fresh; just came in today and I'll sell it to you at half price." Mr. Milby picks out a nice big one to share with cat. The butcher wraps it up and wishes him a good day. Jason Milby thinks, my, people sure are friendly around here.
Jason Milby is now walking with a little spring in his step. He's going to have trout for dinner, something he hasn't done in so long he cannot remember when was the last time. He finally makes it to the apartment building and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, cat is waiting at the door and smells the fish instantly. Mr. Milby and cat are excited; fresh trout stuffed with chopped onion and fried in butter. This is a special occasion so Milby digs through the closet to find an old radio that he hasn't played in years, plugs it in and it still works. Jason Milby gets busy chopping the onion and getting out a suitable pan. He tunes in a good radio station and finds himself humming along to the music. He is smiling as cat rubs back and forth on his shins hoping he'll drop something to the floor. The fish starts to sizzle and pop in the pan.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Who could that be? He rarely has visitors. Opening the door it turns out to be the young couple who live down the hall. "Um, excuse me Mr. Milby, but is everything alright? We heard music and could smell something cooking." You see, Milby had lived such a quiet existence eating his canned food this was quite out of the ordinary, and certainly no music ever came from this apartment. Milby invites them in, Bill, his wife Karen, and their young boy, Tim. Milby has never had this many people in his apartment before. He scrambles looking for some folding chairs and an old bottle of wine he had saved.
The house guests are seated and Milby explains how he bought the fish at the butcher shop. He turns down the music and Bill and Tim walk into the small kitchen area to look at the trout. It's so big it barely fits in the pan. Bill says, "Man, I haven't been fishing in years, Mr. Milby." Milby replies, "I haven't either and please just call me Jason, or better yet, Jay." Milby pours the wine and finds a soda for Tim in the back of the refrigerator. Milby, the host, invites them to stay for dinner but they decline. Bill asks Milby if he knows of any good fishing spots around the area. Milby tells him of where he went as a boy with his grandfather and it's not too far away. He describes the beauty of the place and the hungry trout that ply the cool clear mountain waters. Bill asks, "Mr. Mil...er I mean Jay, could you show us where this lake is sometime; it sounds like heaven. We could all go together and make a day of it." "I'd be glad to; how about tomorrow?" replies Milby. Bill responds, "But a couple of things, Jay, I smoke a pipe and I don't want it to bother you, and also, don't you have to work tomorrow?" Jason Milby smiles and says, "I'm fine with pipe smoke and I'm calling in sick tomorrow. I'm sick of work and the only cure is to go fishing."
The next morning the four of them pile into Bill's car and head for the lake. Tim sings a song he learned in school and pretty soon they're all singing. They arrive at the lake and it's just as Milby remembered it. Bill lit his pipe and sure enough, it was cherry flavored tobacco. The water is like glass, reflecting the mirror image of the trees and the mountains which still had snow on the very top. Karen had packed a picnic lunch which they enjoyed as the sun shined down. The water was occasionally disrupted by a trout leaping catch an insect. They all caught a fish or two, but Tim caught the biggest. It was a wonderful day. One they would repeat many times.
If Jay hadn't taken that detour that day to the other street he never would've met his new friends. He never did go back to his job. He moved out of the city and into a cabin close to the lake. But then again, maybe he was the one in that bad accident by the store and this was all a dream. Either way, he's in heaven. It's said you can still see old Jay walking along the shore of the lake, fishing pole in hand, with cat following close behind.
One day Betsy brought in a kitten and insisted that Mr. Milby take it. He was reluctant but finally agreed. On his walk home he put the kitten in his coat pocket; it's head poking out looking at everything with an occasional little "mew." He stopped by a small grocery store and picked up a bag of groceries for himself and some food and kitty litter for the kitten. He'd never had a cat before but after a short time they became best friends. He never named the cat; just called it "cat." The cat would always greet him at the door to his small apartment when he came home from work. The cat was a small blessing for Jason Milby. At least someone cared about him and he had someone to care for. After a small dinner, cat would curl up on his lap while he read one of his favorite books, usually an adventure novel. Jason Milby would get lost in these books. He imagined himself in some far away jungle hacking away through the the underbrush with his machete or sailing to exotic ports on a three masted ship visiting beautiful deserted islands. But this was not to be, as Jason Milby was in his small apartment with his cat in his lap waiting for another day to pass.
Mr. Milby always took the same route to and from work. He had done this for so many years he often thought to himself he could do it blindfolded, except of course for the intersections with the cars whizzing by. So Jason Milby is on his way home from work with a stop at the small store for a frozen dinner and maybe a treat for cat. He rarely cooked a dinner; just bought things that could be heated up; frozen pizza, canned stew, or soup.
He was almost to the store when he saw a big commotion ahead. Firetrucks, ambulance and police cars. The whole area was blocked off with yellow caution tape. He was directed to use an alternate route by a policeman. There had been a bad accident and no one could enter the area.
Now all the years Mr. Milby lived in this city he had never walked on this other street. He was so close to the market and then just another block to his apartment. He kept looking back over his shoulder at his familiar surroundings wishing he could just go the way he always did.
It was a warm afternoon so he stopped to take off his coat and carry his hat. He even rolled up his shirt sleeves; something he hadn't done since he was a kid. He starts walking and sees an attractive young woman dressed all in white walking in the opposite direction. She smiles and says, "Hello there." Mr. Milby, not used to talking to strangers, especially pretty ones, manages to stammer out, "Uh, hello." Strange, he thinks, I don't know that woman. Why would she say hello to me? Just then a small boy runs past and brushes against Milby's pants leg. The boy stops and says, "Sorry Mister." Milby just smiles and waves to the young lad.
The sun is beating down on his thinning hair and reflecting off his glasses. It reminds him of when he was a boy and his grandfather took him fishing ever so often. The sun bearing down as they sit beside a clear cool mountain lake. Fishing pole in hand; hoping for an interested trout. His grandpa always looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. White stubble covering his lined face with his ever present pipe clenched between his teeth. The smell of the cherry flavored tobacco mixed with scent of the pine trees.
He makes a turn at the corner and is relieved as he's getting closer to home. Half way down the block he spots a small butcher shop. He enters, hoping he can find something for cat and himself. He walks by all the glass cases with steaks, chicken, and pork. He notices, at the very back of the store, a section for fish. The butcher says, "The trout is fresh; just came in today and I'll sell it to you at half price." Mr. Milby picks out a nice big one to share with cat. The butcher wraps it up and wishes him a good day. Jason Milby thinks, my, people sure are friendly around here.
Jason Milby is now walking with a little spring in his step. He's going to have trout for dinner, something he hasn't done in so long he cannot remember when was the last time. He finally makes it to the apartment building and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, cat is waiting at the door and smells the fish instantly. Mr. Milby and cat are excited; fresh trout stuffed with chopped onion and fried in butter. This is a special occasion so Milby digs through the closet to find an old radio that he hasn't played in years, plugs it in and it still works. Jason Milby gets busy chopping the onion and getting out a suitable pan. He tunes in a good radio station and finds himself humming along to the music. He is smiling as cat rubs back and forth on his shins hoping he'll drop something to the floor. The fish starts to sizzle and pop in the pan.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Who could that be? He rarely has visitors. Opening the door it turns out to be the young couple who live down the hall. "Um, excuse me Mr. Milby, but is everything alright? We heard music and could smell something cooking." You see, Milby had lived such a quiet existence eating his canned food this was quite out of the ordinary, and certainly no music ever came from this apartment. Milby invites them in, Bill, his wife Karen, and their young boy, Tim. Milby has never had this many people in his apartment before. He scrambles looking for some folding chairs and an old bottle of wine he had saved.
The house guests are seated and Milby explains how he bought the fish at the butcher shop. He turns down the music and Bill and Tim walk into the small kitchen area to look at the trout. It's so big it barely fits in the pan. Bill says, "Man, I haven't been fishing in years, Mr. Milby." Milby replies, "I haven't either and please just call me Jason, or better yet, Jay." Milby pours the wine and finds a soda for Tim in the back of the refrigerator. Milby, the host, invites them to stay for dinner but they decline. Bill asks Milby if he knows of any good fishing spots around the area. Milby tells him of where he went as a boy with his grandfather and it's not too far away. He describes the beauty of the place and the hungry trout that ply the cool clear mountain waters. Bill asks, "Mr. Mil...er I mean Jay, could you show us where this lake is sometime; it sounds like heaven. We could all go together and make a day of it." "I'd be glad to; how about tomorrow?" replies Milby. Bill responds, "But a couple of things, Jay, I smoke a pipe and I don't want it to bother you, and also, don't you have to work tomorrow?" Jason Milby smiles and says, "I'm fine with pipe smoke and I'm calling in sick tomorrow. I'm sick of work and the only cure is to go fishing."
The next morning the four of them pile into Bill's car and head for the lake. Tim sings a song he learned in school and pretty soon they're all singing. They arrive at the lake and it's just as Milby remembered it. Bill lit his pipe and sure enough, it was cherry flavored tobacco. The water is like glass, reflecting the mirror image of the trees and the mountains which still had snow on the very top. Karen had packed a picnic lunch which they enjoyed as the sun shined down. The water was occasionally disrupted by a trout leaping catch an insect. They all caught a fish or two, but Tim caught the biggest. It was a wonderful day. One they would repeat many times.
If Jay hadn't taken that detour that day to the other street he never would've met his new friends. He never did go back to his job. He moved out of the city and into a cabin close to the lake. But then again, maybe he was the one in that bad accident by the store and this was all a dream. Either way, he's in heaven. It's said you can still see old Jay walking along the shore of the lake, fishing pole in hand, with cat following close behind.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Beer Can Beach
When our family vacationed here in the late 50's South Shore was a much different place. The casinos were all one or two story, Heavenly Valley was still a small ski resort, and the only movie theater in town was a Quonset hut with wooden benches and a dirt floor up by Stateline. In the summers there were good sized crowds at the beaches and at the casinos but come winter time many motels and restaurants would close for the season; it was that slow.
In 1962 we became full time residents and South Shore was under a big transformation for the next several years. Now there were hydroplane races held on the lake every summer. Big, fast boats powered by twelve cylinder Rolls Royce or Allison aircraft engines. These boats were real cool looking and really loud. Miss Budweiser, Miss Harrah's, Miss Bardahl, to name a few. I could hear them all the way from Bijou Elementary as they practiced. Heavenly Valley began construction of the tram, which is where I worked after graduating from high school. The casinos started expanding out and up. Harvey's was the first to build a hotel tower. Okay, it was only ten stories but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Homes were being built everywhere. If you had a dirt bike you could ride on the miles and miles of trails that ran through the woods. The city had not been incorporated yet so there were very little if any regulations like there are now. With all this rampant development and activities there were a lot of mistakes made and a lot of irreparable damage done. The dredging of the wetlands to build Tahoe Keys comes to mind.
Which brings me to the dredging of Ski Run Marina. When they cut the channel to get to the lake, the beach was cut in half. The beaches were connected by a wooden bridge. You walked up a flight of stairs and across a walkway and then down another set of stairs to the other side. The walkway was about 25 feet above the channel so the boats could come and go and the beach goers had access to both beaches.
Now the main beach where the rental office, the concession stand, and the pinball machines were (the last two being where all my measly pay wound up), was considered the "family" beach. Once you crossed the bridge over to the other side you were at the infamous (drum roll, please), "Beer Can Beach"!!!
This place had quite a reputation. The college kids came in droves to drink and go wild. It earned the name from all the empty beer cans and wine bottles left in the sand. As more and more partyin' young kids showed up each week, they kept moving down the beach to make room for more. Pretty soon the crowd grew so big they were on a private beach that belonged to Lakeland Village. The owners of this resort didn't like all these half-naked, drunk young college kids in bikinis and Bermuda shorts rampaging on their private property. Lakeland Village was a quiet resort that mostly catered to a more sedate crowd. It was a heavily forested area with about 20 little cabins connected by a meandering one-lane road. It's where my folks honeymooned in '53. At first they tried security guards to get the kids to leave but they were vastly out numbered. So one day they put up a 6 foot high cyclone fence that went from the waters edge following their property line all the way back to where the marina's boat ramp was.
This action did not set well with the crowd which was growing in numbers daily at Beer Can Beach. Now, I wouldn't call it a riot but there was definitely some anger in the crowd and lots of drinking. Just like when I saw The Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" on the "family" beach earlier that summer, my boss once again tracked me down and sent me home.
The next morning I show up for work and start cleaning the "family" beach first. I notice the cyclone fence is gone. I walked over there and there are lots of tire tracks in the sand. I walk over to the main channel to the lake and there's all the fence in a couple of big rolls, sitting at the bottom in 15 feet of water. Someone had used a truck or a jeep, pulled up the fence, and rolled it into the water-way.
The old security guard, asleep in the office, never woke up during this whole thing. They got rid of him and hired someone to watch the place all night. They winched up the fence out of the water and re-installed it. Finally, after a couple of years, things calmed down and the crazy college kids found other places to party.
So farewell, Beer Can Beach. I'm sure there are lots of people, 10 or 12 years older than me, who still remember their wild times there. And maybe, just maybe, they remember that skinny little kid with the tan who was always hangin' around, eyes buggin' out from what he saw and experienced.
Bob
In 1962 we became full time residents and South Shore was under a big transformation for the next several years. Now there were hydroplane races held on the lake every summer. Big, fast boats powered by twelve cylinder Rolls Royce or Allison aircraft engines. These boats were real cool looking and really loud. Miss Budweiser, Miss Harrah's, Miss Bardahl, to name a few. I could hear them all the way from Bijou Elementary as they practiced. Heavenly Valley began construction of the tram, which is where I worked after graduating from high school. The casinos started expanding out and up. Harvey's was the first to build a hotel tower. Okay, it was only ten stories but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Homes were being built everywhere. If you had a dirt bike you could ride on the miles and miles of trails that ran through the woods. The city had not been incorporated yet so there were very little if any regulations like there are now. With all this rampant development and activities there were a lot of mistakes made and a lot of irreparable damage done. The dredging of the wetlands to build Tahoe Keys comes to mind.
Which brings me to the dredging of Ski Run Marina. When they cut the channel to get to the lake, the beach was cut in half. The beaches were connected by a wooden bridge. You walked up a flight of stairs and across a walkway and then down another set of stairs to the other side. The walkway was about 25 feet above the channel so the boats could come and go and the beach goers had access to both beaches.
Now the main beach where the rental office, the concession stand, and the pinball machines were (the last two being where all my measly pay wound up), was considered the "family" beach. Once you crossed the bridge over to the other side you were at the infamous (drum roll, please), "Beer Can Beach"!!!
This place had quite a reputation. The college kids came in droves to drink and go wild. It earned the name from all the empty beer cans and wine bottles left in the sand. As more and more partyin' young kids showed up each week, they kept moving down the beach to make room for more. Pretty soon the crowd grew so big they were on a private beach that belonged to Lakeland Village. The owners of this resort didn't like all these half-naked, drunk young college kids in bikinis and Bermuda shorts rampaging on their private property. Lakeland Village was a quiet resort that mostly catered to a more sedate crowd. It was a heavily forested area with about 20 little cabins connected by a meandering one-lane road. It's where my folks honeymooned in '53. At first they tried security guards to get the kids to leave but they were vastly out numbered. So one day they put up a 6 foot high cyclone fence that went from the waters edge following their property line all the way back to where the marina's boat ramp was.
This action did not set well with the crowd which was growing in numbers daily at Beer Can Beach. Now, I wouldn't call it a riot but there was definitely some anger in the crowd and lots of drinking. Just like when I saw The Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" on the "family" beach earlier that summer, my boss once again tracked me down and sent me home.
The next morning I show up for work and start cleaning the "family" beach first. I notice the cyclone fence is gone. I walked over there and there are lots of tire tracks in the sand. I walk over to the main channel to the lake and there's all the fence in a couple of big rolls, sitting at the bottom in 15 feet of water. Someone had used a truck or a jeep, pulled up the fence, and rolled it into the water-way.
The old security guard, asleep in the office, never woke up during this whole thing. They got rid of him and hired someone to watch the place all night. They winched up the fence out of the water and re-installed it. Finally, after a couple of years, things calmed down and the crazy college kids found other places to party.
So farewell, Beer Can Beach. I'm sure there are lots of people, 10 or 12 years older than me, who still remember their wild times there. And maybe, just maybe, they remember that skinny little kid with the tan who was always hangin' around, eyes buggin' out from what he saw and experienced.
Bob
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Pedal Pushing
I think it was in the year 1966 that some friends and I decided to ride our bikes around the lake, spending the night on North Shore and then continue the next day on to home. There were four of us, all motel kids. Ralph and his brother Bill, their family owned the Lake Haven motel, and Mike whose family owned the Carriage House motel both up at Stateline, and my folks still had the Alta Vista motel at Ski Run Blvd.
We had Schwinn Varsity 10 speeds except for Mike; he had a Schwinn Continental which was considered top-of-the-line at the time. I bought a Continental after my Varsity was stolen a few years later. We tied on our big bulky Coleman sleeping bags to our rear mounted bike racks along with canteens full of water and some food stuffed inside our sleeping bags.
Now bear in mind this is far from a hi-tech bike ride. We had heavy bikes, high top tennis shoes, Levis and t-shirts. No lightweight bikes, no Spandex riding shorts or light colorful jerseys, no helmets or gloves or even sunglasses. Just four kids going for a 72-mile ride around a lake with lots of hills and no bike trails; just hug the edge of the road and hope you don't get hit by a car or crash into something.
We started at Stateline, headed east, and made it to Cave Rock with no problems. Then we start climbing Spooner Summit. Not real steep but long. We took many breaks getting off our bikes to sip some water and wipe the sweat off our faces. We were glad to see the turnoff for North Shore, the road there winds down a gradual decline and gave us a chance to cool off and rest our legs as we coasted along.
We rolled into Kings Beach late in the afternoon; tired and hungry. Bill went a ways down the road looking for a campground and Mike rode into town to buy some soda and food. Ralph and I hung out at the beach and noticed a tiny island about 50 feet offshore. We take off our shoes, roll up our pants legs and wade on out to take a look-see.
Turns out the place is perfect; trees and bushes surround the perimeter but the center is open with enough room for all of us to sleep. Bill comes back and the campground is full and Mike comes back with some provisions. We decide the island is where we'll sleep so we carry our bikes out there and I find enough dead wood to make a small fire.
I had brought a small can of Vienna sausages and a few pieces of bread which I tried to toast over the fire; a pretty gross dinner (I haven't eaten Vienna sausages since; yech!) but it was enough to fill me up and ready myself for the ride around the rest of the lake the next day.
We got up early and headed down the West Shore to complete our circuit. Our next big hurdle was Dollar Point, a short but steep hill. So steep, in fact, we got off our bikes and pushed them up the hill. Pretty much smooth sailing after that, pedaling through Tahoe City, Sunnyside, Homewood, and all those other little communities.
Then we got to Emerald Bay. The road along the ridge line is beautiful! You've got the bay on one side, Cascade Lake on the other, and Tahoe out in front of you. Once you drop off the ridge there are several sharp hairpin turns as the roadway rapidly drops in elevation. I started picking up speed even with my hands on the brakes. I make the first couple of curves but on the last one I was going too fast and went off the road into the soft dirt shoulder, my bike violently going from side to side. Fortunately, I finally got back on the road just in time to cross the small bridge that spans Cascade Creek. A close call! The rest of the ride home was nice as we rode through the aspen groves and forest around the Camp Richardson area.
A few years ago we were camped in the boat at Emerald Bay. I was up early to watch the sunrise and get ready for fishing. My morning solitude was interrupted by a bunch of bike riders up on the road. "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride," an annual event here. They were all hooting and hollering as they first caught sight of the bay. At first I was angry but then I remembered my time up on that road on my Schwinn and how elated I was. My anger turned to joy as I began to wave to them from the back deck of the boat, grinning and thinking about my time in the saddle with legs burning and sweat running down my face. A 12-year-old kid who, all those years ago, did what these folks were doing now.
Pedal on my friends, pedal on.
Bob
We had Schwinn Varsity 10 speeds except for Mike; he had a Schwinn Continental which was considered top-of-the-line at the time. I bought a Continental after my Varsity was stolen a few years later. We tied on our big bulky Coleman sleeping bags to our rear mounted bike racks along with canteens full of water and some food stuffed inside our sleeping bags.
Now bear in mind this is far from a hi-tech bike ride. We had heavy bikes, high top tennis shoes, Levis and t-shirts. No lightweight bikes, no Spandex riding shorts or light colorful jerseys, no helmets or gloves or even sunglasses. Just four kids going for a 72-mile ride around a lake with lots of hills and no bike trails; just hug the edge of the road and hope you don't get hit by a car or crash into something.
We started at Stateline, headed east, and made it to Cave Rock with no problems. Then we start climbing Spooner Summit. Not real steep but long. We took many breaks getting off our bikes to sip some water and wipe the sweat off our faces. We were glad to see the turnoff for North Shore, the road there winds down a gradual decline and gave us a chance to cool off and rest our legs as we coasted along.
We rolled into Kings Beach late in the afternoon; tired and hungry. Bill went a ways down the road looking for a campground and Mike rode into town to buy some soda and food. Ralph and I hung out at the beach and noticed a tiny island about 50 feet offshore. We take off our shoes, roll up our pants legs and wade on out to take a look-see.
Turns out the place is perfect; trees and bushes surround the perimeter but the center is open with enough room for all of us to sleep. Bill comes back and the campground is full and Mike comes back with some provisions. We decide the island is where we'll sleep so we carry our bikes out there and I find enough dead wood to make a small fire.
I had brought a small can of Vienna sausages and a few pieces of bread which I tried to toast over the fire; a pretty gross dinner (I haven't eaten Vienna sausages since; yech!) but it was enough to fill me up and ready myself for the ride around the rest of the lake the next day.
We got up early and headed down the West Shore to complete our circuit. Our next big hurdle was Dollar Point, a short but steep hill. So steep, in fact, we got off our bikes and pushed them up the hill. Pretty much smooth sailing after that, pedaling through Tahoe City, Sunnyside, Homewood, and all those other little communities.
Then we got to Emerald Bay. The road along the ridge line is beautiful! You've got the bay on one side, Cascade Lake on the other, and Tahoe out in front of you. Once you drop off the ridge there are several sharp hairpin turns as the roadway rapidly drops in elevation. I started picking up speed even with my hands on the brakes. I make the first couple of curves but on the last one I was going too fast and went off the road into the soft dirt shoulder, my bike violently going from side to side. Fortunately, I finally got back on the road just in time to cross the small bridge that spans Cascade Creek. A close call! The rest of the ride home was nice as we rode through the aspen groves and forest around the Camp Richardson area.
A few years ago we were camped in the boat at Emerald Bay. I was up early to watch the sunrise and get ready for fishing. My morning solitude was interrupted by a bunch of bike riders up on the road. "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride," an annual event here. They were all hooting and hollering as they first caught sight of the bay. At first I was angry but then I remembered my time up on that road on my Schwinn and how elated I was. My anger turned to joy as I began to wave to them from the back deck of the boat, grinning and thinking about my time in the saddle with legs burning and sweat running down my face. A 12-year-old kid who, all those years ago, did what these folks were doing now.
Pedal on my friends, pedal on.
Bob
Friday, March 18, 2011
Hey, Javelin!
I think it was in 1968 when my dad pulled into the driveway with a new car, an AMC (formerly Studebaker) Javelin, lime green with black "racing stripes" on the side and on the hood. It was stock and had an automatic transmission with a 304 engine and Tiger Paw tires. The tires had a thin red stripe that went around the sidewall denoting their "raciness."
My mom was appalled at this car in front of our house. Dad had traded in our comfortable Chrysler 300 for this lime green, stiff riding two door muscle car with bucket seats, dual exhaust and its eye catching color and air foil. I thought it was great! Dad has always liked cars and he just felt he had to have this one. There was a TV commercial out at the time that showed two cars at a stop light. The lady in the car next to the Javelin rolls down her window and says to the driver next to her, "Hey, Javelin!" Corny, but it became a catch phrase for the car. It wasn't as fast as some of the cars of that time but it was still pretty quick and handled well and it looked kinda cool in its own funky lime green way.
My dad taught me how to drive when I was just a little guy so now he went to the next level. He allowed me to start driving the Javelin. I didn't have a license or even a learner's permit yet. I was the only freshman at high school who was driving to school and parking next to the seniors and their hot-rodded Mustangs, GTOs, Camaros, '57 Chevys and the like.
So one weekend I'm cruising around town. My short hair parted in the middle, wearing aviator type sunglasses, head band firmly in place, and the radio tuned into the appropriate rock station and of course the seat is tilted back. Gotta look cool ya know. I see a couple of guys I know from school down at the beach. They want to go for a ride in my lean, green machine. They want to go to High Meadows, a meadow up in the mountains with a stream running through it, which is at the end of a long and bumpy steep dirt road.
All is well at the start but then we come to the creek. The creek or river is not real big, maybe 25 feet across and about a foot or more deep. You need to cross this stream and continue up the dirt road in order to get to High Meadows. I slowly inch across and get stuck on a rock. For a truck or jeep it wouldn't have been a problem. But for the Javelin? Problem! Not only was I stuck on the rock, the water got into the engine compartment and it wouldn't re-start. One of the guys hiked out and hitchhiked to my folks place and my dad eventually showed up with his truck and tow rope. Boy was he pissed! And he had every right to be pissed. Here I was, out in the woods, stuck in the middle of a river on a rock with his hot rod lime green Javelin.
I had abused my privilege of using the car and that pretty much ended my use of it. Dad pulled the car off the rock and out of the river. The other guy that was with me just walked home, he wanted no part of my angry dad and the trouble I was in. I got the car started and followed Dad home to the corner of Glenwood and Pioneer. Back to the Schwinn 10 speed for me! I saved my money and eventually bought a Corvair which I decorated in a most outlandish way. I'll tell you about that at another time.
Take care,
Bob
My mom was appalled at this car in front of our house. Dad had traded in our comfortable Chrysler 300 for this lime green, stiff riding two door muscle car with bucket seats, dual exhaust and its eye catching color and air foil. I thought it was great! Dad has always liked cars and he just felt he had to have this one. There was a TV commercial out at the time that showed two cars at a stop light. The lady in the car next to the Javelin rolls down her window and says to the driver next to her, "Hey, Javelin!" Corny, but it became a catch phrase for the car. It wasn't as fast as some of the cars of that time but it was still pretty quick and handled well and it looked kinda cool in its own funky lime green way.
My dad taught me how to drive when I was just a little guy so now he went to the next level. He allowed me to start driving the Javelin. I didn't have a license or even a learner's permit yet. I was the only freshman at high school who was driving to school and parking next to the seniors and their hot-rodded Mustangs, GTOs, Camaros, '57 Chevys and the like.
So one weekend I'm cruising around town. My short hair parted in the middle, wearing aviator type sunglasses, head band firmly in place, and the radio tuned into the appropriate rock station and of course the seat is tilted back. Gotta look cool ya know. I see a couple of guys I know from school down at the beach. They want to go for a ride in my lean, green machine. They want to go to High Meadows, a meadow up in the mountains with a stream running through it, which is at the end of a long and bumpy steep dirt road.
All is well at the start but then we come to the creek. The creek or river is not real big, maybe 25 feet across and about a foot or more deep. You need to cross this stream and continue up the dirt road in order to get to High Meadows. I slowly inch across and get stuck on a rock. For a truck or jeep it wouldn't have been a problem. But for the Javelin? Problem! Not only was I stuck on the rock, the water got into the engine compartment and it wouldn't re-start. One of the guys hiked out and hitchhiked to my folks place and my dad eventually showed up with his truck and tow rope. Boy was he pissed! And he had every right to be pissed. Here I was, out in the woods, stuck in the middle of a river on a rock with his hot rod lime green Javelin.
I had abused my privilege of using the car and that pretty much ended my use of it. Dad pulled the car off the rock and out of the river. The other guy that was with me just walked home, he wanted no part of my angry dad and the trouble I was in. I got the car started and followed Dad home to the corner of Glenwood and Pioneer. Back to the Schwinn 10 speed for me! I saved my money and eventually bought a Corvair which I decorated in a most outlandish way. I'll tell you about that at another time.
Take care,
Bob
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A Fine Mess
As Oliver Hardy used to say to Stanley, "This is another fine mess you've gotten us into." And just like Stanley, it wasn't Japans fault they are in the horrible situation they are in. Earthquakes happen without warning. What is most unfortunate is there are 56 nuclear power plants on this tiny stretch of land. The second one just exploded yesterday with other plants showing signs of doing the same. Add to that, a volcano blows its top on a nearby island. Now I just read where a third plant just blew due to over heating. Good lord, what's next, locusts?
All these events bring me to ask, are you prepared? Are you prepared for flood, fire, earthquake, or severe weather? How about an economic collapse or a highly contagious disease? These things happen suddenly and you have no time to get your stuff together at the last minute and head for the hills or wherever. Have a well thought out plan and leave it open to modify as you wish.
Here are some tips as to what I've done. Start at home, stockpiling canned goods and jugs of water, flashlight, and portable radio with spare batteries. Buy a couple of folding multi-tools. I liked my Leatherman so much I bought one for Christy as well. Small first-aid kits and extra medication if your on it as well as extra soap and toiletries. Plenty of pet food, don't forget your furry friends! I bought a portable generator years ago and, though rarely used, it gives me a sense of security knowing I can have electricity in the event of a loss of power. Always keep at least 10 gallons of gas in your garage or stored somewhere. I use mine for the snow blower but always try to keep them topped off. Lots of blankets and lots of candles.
Next is your car. You can throw together a little box of things that won't take up much room in your trunk but could be really helpful in the advent of your finding yourself in a compromising situation. A plastic tarp, a blanket, large bottle of water, first aid kit, your tools, and some snacks like energy bars and jerky which have a long shelf life.
I don't mean to come off as sounding all paranoid, I'm just saying its easy to do these things and it could really could make a difference if you find yourself in a bad way. We are also working on our "to go boxes". These are Rubber Maid plastic totes, kinda like half a garbage can with a snap on lid. In these we will stash food , first aid , water, and all the other stuff so if we have to leave in a hurry we can throw these in the truck and go to wherever.
The other day, after the first nuclear explosion, a friend said, "Oh, that radiation will never get here, we're to far away." I'll tell you this, several years ago there was a light yellowish tinge to the sky. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire but I couldn't smell smoke. It turned out what was overhead was dust from a wind storm in Africa and these little particles had traveled around the world. Japan is not all that far away in the grand scope of things . BE PREPARED!!
Bob (the boy scout who never was one), cub scout for a half a year
All these events bring me to ask, are you prepared? Are you prepared for flood, fire, earthquake, or severe weather? How about an economic collapse or a highly contagious disease? These things happen suddenly and you have no time to get your stuff together at the last minute and head for the hills or wherever. Have a well thought out plan and leave it open to modify as you wish.
Here are some tips as to what I've done. Start at home, stockpiling canned goods and jugs of water, flashlight, and portable radio with spare batteries. Buy a couple of folding multi-tools. I liked my Leatherman so much I bought one for Christy as well. Small first-aid kits and extra medication if your on it as well as extra soap and toiletries. Plenty of pet food, don't forget your furry friends! I bought a portable generator years ago and, though rarely used, it gives me a sense of security knowing I can have electricity in the event of a loss of power. Always keep at least 10 gallons of gas in your garage or stored somewhere. I use mine for the snow blower but always try to keep them topped off. Lots of blankets and lots of candles.
Next is your car. You can throw together a little box of things that won't take up much room in your trunk but could be really helpful in the advent of your finding yourself in a compromising situation. A plastic tarp, a blanket, large bottle of water, first aid kit, your tools, and some snacks like energy bars and jerky which have a long shelf life.
I don't mean to come off as sounding all paranoid, I'm just saying its easy to do these things and it could really could make a difference if you find yourself in a bad way. We are also working on our "to go boxes". These are Rubber Maid plastic totes, kinda like half a garbage can with a snap on lid. In these we will stash food , first aid , water, and all the other stuff so if we have to leave in a hurry we can throw these in the truck and go to wherever.
The other day, after the first nuclear explosion, a friend said, "Oh, that radiation will never get here, we're to far away." I'll tell you this, several years ago there was a light yellowish tinge to the sky. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire but I couldn't smell smoke. It turned out what was overhead was dust from a wind storm in Africa and these little particles had traveled around the world. Japan is not all that far away in the grand scope of things . BE PREPARED!!
Bob (the boy scout who never was one), cub scout for a half a year
Sunday, March 6, 2011
My First Rock and Roll Show
So back in about 1963 or '64 I was still working at Ski Run marina during the summers. They doubled my salary; I was now making $2.00 dollars a day. What was I going to do with all this new found wealth? But along with the extra dollar also came more responsibility. I was now giving instructions to the people renting the boat on how to operate it and how to find their way back to the marina, using the face of Heavenly Valley as a point of reference. I'd load up the life jackets, give my little talk, untie them from the dock, and send them on their way. If they didn't return by late afternoon the boss would send me out in a 14 foot aluminum fishing boat to go look for them. We didn't have radios or walkie-talkies. I'd just head out in a little boat with a length of rope to tow them in if they were broke down or if they were lost and couldn't find the marina I'd have them follow me back.
Now across from the marina parking lot was a large four story hotel. This place was real popular with the college kids as was our motel which was just a short walk away. The word gets out that the owner of the hotel is going to throw a birthday party for his daughter at the beach where I work, I think she was turning 18.
So one morning after I finish my morning garbage detail and working with the rental boats a crew of guys show up. They remove the pinball machines from the little chicken wire enclosure and start setting up the bands equipment. Now, this is a small space, maybe 10 by 25 ft. But it is open except for the chicken wire and it faces the beach.
As fate would have it, the group that was hired to play was staying in the motel next to ours. I was riding my bicycle around my folks place and saw this purple van next door with the words "The Kingsmen" painted on the side. They were popular at the time for their hit "Louie Louie". I had seen them on Shindig and I think one of my sisters had the 45 with their big hit. That song was everywhere.
The beach started to fill with kids mostly in their teens and early twenties. It was a sunny day and everybody was in their swim suits. Bikinis had just become popular but they weren't of the skimpy type like now, they looked more like grandma's underwear. The band crams into the chicken coop and starts playing and the college kids go wild! Everybody dancing in the sand, the frug, the watusi, the jerk, and all those dances that were popular at the time.
I was just standing there getting jostled about by all these older kids when the band finally breaks into its big hit, "Louie Louie." Now the crowd is really going crazy. Suddenly my boss pulls me from the crowd and says I have to go home. Some of the girls were starting to lose their tops and things were getting out of control. My boss called my dad and told him not to let me come back till the next morning. When I did get there the following day the place was trashed. Bathing suits, beer cans, and unexploded fireworks scattered everywhere. There were lots of people still sleeping on the beach. I guess it was quite a party as I filled up several big burlap sacks with beer cans and bathing suits and other assorted stuff.
So that was my first live Rock and Roll show. My dad had an "arrangement" with a big shot at Harrah's so we got to see lots of shows there for free in the South Shore Room. Those were performers like Donald O'Conner, Red Skelton, Robert Goulet, Sammy Davis Jr... well you get the idea. While those shows at Stateline were fun I'll always remember the Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" in the pinball chicken coop at the Ski Run beach when I was 9 years old.
Me gotta go now,
Bob
The Kingsmen - Louie Louie - 45rpm
Now across from the marina parking lot was a large four story hotel. This place was real popular with the college kids as was our motel which was just a short walk away. The word gets out that the owner of the hotel is going to throw a birthday party for his daughter at the beach where I work, I think she was turning 18.
So one morning after I finish my morning garbage detail and working with the rental boats a crew of guys show up. They remove the pinball machines from the little chicken wire enclosure and start setting up the bands equipment. Now, this is a small space, maybe 10 by 25 ft. But it is open except for the chicken wire and it faces the beach.
As fate would have it, the group that was hired to play was staying in the motel next to ours. I was riding my bicycle around my folks place and saw this purple van next door with the words "The Kingsmen" painted on the side. They were popular at the time for their hit "Louie Louie". I had seen them on Shindig and I think one of my sisters had the 45 with their big hit. That song was everywhere.
The beach started to fill with kids mostly in their teens and early twenties. It was a sunny day and everybody was in their swim suits. Bikinis had just become popular but they weren't of the skimpy type like now, they looked more like grandma's underwear. The band crams into the chicken coop and starts playing and the college kids go wild! Everybody dancing in the sand, the frug, the watusi, the jerk, and all those dances that were popular at the time.
I was just standing there getting jostled about by all these older kids when the band finally breaks into its big hit, "Louie Louie." Now the crowd is really going crazy. Suddenly my boss pulls me from the crowd and says I have to go home. Some of the girls were starting to lose their tops and things were getting out of control. My boss called my dad and told him not to let me come back till the next morning. When I did get there the following day the place was trashed. Bathing suits, beer cans, and unexploded fireworks scattered everywhere. There were lots of people still sleeping on the beach. I guess it was quite a party as I filled up several big burlap sacks with beer cans and bathing suits and other assorted stuff.
So that was my first live Rock and Roll show. My dad had an "arrangement" with a big shot at Harrah's so we got to see lots of shows there for free in the South Shore Room. Those were performers like Donald O'Conner, Red Skelton, Robert Goulet, Sammy Davis Jr... well you get the idea. While those shows at Stateline were fun I'll always remember the Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" in the pinball chicken coop at the Ski Run beach when I was 9 years old.
Me gotta go now,
Bob
The Kingsmen - Louie Louie - 45rpm
Sunday, February 27, 2011
"I broke his hand!"
We just got back from our little overnight trip over to the north shore. I reserved a room at the old Cal-Neva hotel and bought tickets to see Sam Bush perform in the small Crystal Bay Casino. This is what I got Christy for her valentines day present, (okay , I really wanted to go to this show as well, so we both win out). Sam Bush is an amazing blue grass mandolin player, singer, songwriter and as we found out also plays the fiddle.
I drove the truck over there along the east shore side. The west side, Hwy 89, is closed because of all the snow. We figured having 4 wd was the way to go, that old truck does great in the snow. There was a car that rolled over about half way to our destination. Lots of fire trucks, ambulances and police with flares in the road. Anyone that's ever ridden with me driving knows that I drive super cautious,especially in the snow, kinda like grampa.
We check into the Cal-Neva and find ourselves in a very nice room with a great view of the the lake from the eighth floor. Looking through the large windows we can see all the way from Crystal Bay to south shore. I open the window and it's just beautiful. The sun glistening on the water, the snow capped mountains reflecting so much light you need sunglasses to even look out at this fantastic scene. Even after living here for almost 50 years I'm still awestruck from all the beauty this place affords.
After a wonderful prime rib dinner at the hotel we take a short walk over to the casino. We pick up our tickets for the show and play some video poker. I walk over to the small room where the show is to be performed just to check it out. Walking down the corridor, I bump into Sam Bush, the musician we came to see. We shake hands and I tell him I'm a big fan. Now I'm a guy that likes a firm handshake so as I'm gripping his hand I could feel the crunching of bones in his hand. He winced a little but was very nice. I walk back to find Christy thinking, great, I just broke his hand!
The concert starts and Sam comes out and his hand isn't bandaged so I breathe a sigh of relief. He has a lot of energy and from the very first song he has the audience in the palm of his hand... his good hand anyway! He played his little mandolin and sang wonderfully. He also played the fiddle for some songs and that was very good as well. His band was kick ass with a banjo player, a guy playing acoustic guitar, a bass player, and a drummer. They mostly played original material but also did a few cover songs with their own spin on it. Really really good!
There were only a few tables in the room and they were reserved for VIP's. So that meant we had to stand the whole time which was kinda rough on my knees and back. We met several nice people and exchanged e- mail addresses and had a few beers. This "showroom" is not very big; holds maybe 200 people so you get to know your neighbors right away.
The drive home was beautiful with the sun shining and the lake calm. In the same stretch of road where the other car crashed there was another accident. This little SUV was upside down, sitting on its roof. I've taken some good natured ribbing over the years about my slow driving and maybe overly cautious approach to the road, but hey, I'm not in the ditch or upside down!
We made it home safe and sound just a little sore and stiff. Back, knees... man, just going to a concert and I'm all stoved up! Oh, well, at least it was a great weekend! So if you're ever on the north shore, check into the Cal-Neva and ask for room 808 and if Sam bush is playing anywhere nearby, go see him. He's great! Just give him a soft handshake.
Take care,
Old Bob
I drove the truck over there along the east shore side. The west side, Hwy 89, is closed because of all the snow. We figured having 4 wd was the way to go, that old truck does great in the snow. There was a car that rolled over about half way to our destination. Lots of fire trucks, ambulances and police with flares in the road. Anyone that's ever ridden with me driving knows that I drive super cautious,especially in the snow, kinda like grampa.
We check into the Cal-Neva and find ourselves in a very nice room with a great view of the the lake from the eighth floor. Looking through the large windows we can see all the way from Crystal Bay to south shore. I open the window and it's just beautiful. The sun glistening on the water, the snow capped mountains reflecting so much light you need sunglasses to even look out at this fantastic scene. Even after living here for almost 50 years I'm still awestruck from all the beauty this place affords.
After a wonderful prime rib dinner at the hotel we take a short walk over to the casino. We pick up our tickets for the show and play some video poker. I walk over to the small room where the show is to be performed just to check it out. Walking down the corridor, I bump into Sam Bush, the musician we came to see. We shake hands and I tell him I'm a big fan. Now I'm a guy that likes a firm handshake so as I'm gripping his hand I could feel the crunching of bones in his hand. He winced a little but was very nice. I walk back to find Christy thinking, great, I just broke his hand!
The concert starts and Sam comes out and his hand isn't bandaged so I breathe a sigh of relief. He has a lot of energy and from the very first song he has the audience in the palm of his hand... his good hand anyway! He played his little mandolin and sang wonderfully. He also played the fiddle for some songs and that was very good as well. His band was kick ass with a banjo player, a guy playing acoustic guitar, a bass player, and a drummer. They mostly played original material but also did a few cover songs with their own spin on it. Really really good!
There were only a few tables in the room and they were reserved for VIP's. So that meant we had to stand the whole time which was kinda rough on my knees and back. We met several nice people and exchanged e- mail addresses and had a few beers. This "showroom" is not very big; holds maybe 200 people so you get to know your neighbors right away.
The drive home was beautiful with the sun shining and the lake calm. In the same stretch of road where the other car crashed there was another accident. This little SUV was upside down, sitting on its roof. I've taken some good natured ribbing over the years about my slow driving and maybe overly cautious approach to the road, but hey, I'm not in the ditch or upside down!
We made it home safe and sound just a little sore and stiff. Back, knees... man, just going to a concert and I'm all stoved up! Oh, well, at least it was a great weekend! So if you're ever on the north shore, check into the Cal-Neva and ask for room 808 and if Sam bush is playing anywhere nearby, go see him. He's great! Just give him a soft handshake.
Take care,
Old Bob
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Cheddar Revolution
I've been watching and reading about the protests in Wisconsin with great interest. Now I'll admit right up front I've never been in a union but I have been to a couple of union meetings many years ago. Once when a union tried to get into Heavenly Valley and another that was trying to recruit the employees at the garbage co. to sign up for their union. Both times I was not impressed by these unions so I voted no and talked others into doing the same.
I will say, I can see the advantages to collective bargaining done through unions. When you're just a guy who is considered an "at will" employee, non union, you can be fired for no reason and your pay and benefits can be cut significantly and you have no recourse. And of course the the threat of losing your job is always hanging over your head if you speak out.
The Governor of Wisconsin took office after the November election with a surplus in the budget and after only two months in office that money was gone. Now to make up for the missing millions he wants to extract money from public employees paychecks to make up for the sudden short fall in the states coffers.
At first Governor Walker said he would call in the National Guard if there were protests, so far he hasn't made good on his threat. He has also threatened with massive lay offs in all sectors of the state. Now theres rumors of Tea Party folks being bussed in to counter protest. What? If true, does that mean they are in favor of people losing there rights and bringing home smaller paychecks?? Will they be armed to intimidate the workers?
All these people, the protesters, are asking for is to protect what they've got. They are not making outrageous demands. These are nurses, teachers, plow drivers and all the hard working Americans who actually work for a living and provide much needed services.
While all this is going on the large corporations that pay no taxes and the firms on Wall street that have bankrupted this nation with there schemes and scams are allowed to get off scott free , no criminal charges, no indictments just business as usual. The politicians that lied us into two wars are writing books and getting big money for speaking engagements. Some are hired into being consultants for a "think tank". I 'd like to put them them in a tank alright , how about a septic tank? (they are, after all ,nothing more than a turd in a suit).Again no charges for there deceit and they are responsible for the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives and trillions of dollars of taxpayer money. Yet they smile happily from the TV knowing that nothing is going to happen to them. Oh... but that third grade school teacher who lives down the street ?, why he wants to keep his job and his full paycheck. Now he's a threat for sure. Or the snow plow driver who's a single dad with two kids who can barely afford to keep his daughters fed and buy new school clothes, yeah lets cut his pay.
So to sum up I'm glad to see the solidarity and the peacful protest in Wisconsin. Even the Firefighters that were exempt from this money grabbing , union busting bill have joined with the protesters in a show of solidarity with there friends and neighbors.
So I'll stay positive in spirit and mind . And I hope you do the same. America Will Not Be Crushed By The Greedy Corprotists That Want To Crush The Middle Class!!!
I'm sure this little rant will piss some of you off. But I just had to get it out there as it was burning in my chest. I'd better get out and shovel the berm left in the driveway and mutter to myself about all the problems in the world.
Take care,
old grumpy muttering Bob
I will say, I can see the advantages to collective bargaining done through unions. When you're just a guy who is considered an "at will" employee, non union, you can be fired for no reason and your pay and benefits can be cut significantly and you have no recourse. And of course the the threat of losing your job is always hanging over your head if you speak out.
The Governor of Wisconsin took office after the November election with a surplus in the budget and after only two months in office that money was gone. Now to make up for the missing millions he wants to extract money from public employees paychecks to make up for the sudden short fall in the states coffers.
At first Governor Walker said he would call in the National Guard if there were protests, so far he hasn't made good on his threat. He has also threatened with massive lay offs in all sectors of the state. Now theres rumors of Tea Party folks being bussed in to counter protest. What? If true, does that mean they are in favor of people losing there rights and bringing home smaller paychecks?? Will they be armed to intimidate the workers?
All these people, the protesters, are asking for is to protect what they've got. They are not making outrageous demands. These are nurses, teachers, plow drivers and all the hard working Americans who actually work for a living and provide much needed services.
While all this is going on the large corporations that pay no taxes and the firms on Wall street that have bankrupted this nation with there schemes and scams are allowed to get off scott free , no criminal charges, no indictments just business as usual. The politicians that lied us into two wars are writing books and getting big money for speaking engagements. Some are hired into being consultants for a "think tank". I 'd like to put them them in a tank alright , how about a septic tank? (they are, after all ,nothing more than a turd in a suit).Again no charges for there deceit and they are responsible for the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives and trillions of dollars of taxpayer money. Yet they smile happily from the TV knowing that nothing is going to happen to them. Oh... but that third grade school teacher who lives down the street ?, why he wants to keep his job and his full paycheck. Now he's a threat for sure. Or the snow plow driver who's a single dad with two kids who can barely afford to keep his daughters fed and buy new school clothes, yeah lets cut his pay.
So to sum up I'm glad to see the solidarity and the peacful protest in Wisconsin. Even the Firefighters that were exempt from this money grabbing , union busting bill have joined with the protesters in a show of solidarity with there friends and neighbors.
So I'll stay positive in spirit and mind . And I hope you do the same. America Will Not Be Crushed By The Greedy Corprotists That Want To Crush The Middle Class!!!
I'm sure this little rant will piss some of you off. But I just had to get it out there as it was burning in my chest. I'd better get out and shovel the berm left in the driveway and mutter to myself about all the problems in the world.
Take care,
old grumpy muttering Bob
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Grand Canyon
So in the summer of 1967 me and a group of friends decide to hitchhike to the Grand Canyon. Hike down from the south rim to the Colorado river and then hike up the north side and then hitchhike home. Now I had done a fair amount of camping by this time around Tahoe so I had all the gear and felt up to the challenge. We planned for about a one and a half week to two week trip, give or take.
There were six of us, all with our back packs stuffed full with food and a few changes of clothes. We split up into pairs figuring it would be easier to get rides. My dad dropped me and my friend Bill Scheffel off in front of Barney's casino with our packs and high expectations for what lay ahead.
We had our thumbs out and in no time a beat up old station wagon pulls over. We put our packs in the back; I sit in the front seat with Bill taking the back seat. The driver is a woman with frizzed out hair dressed in a tank top and dirty Levis; kind of a dirty biker hippy chick. I suddenly notice a strong smell and then we hear a baby crying. She's got her little boy in a cardboard box in the back and he had pooped his pants. Bill offered to change the kids diaper if she would pull over but she said no...everything is fine. God it stunk.
This "Lady" was something else. She stopped in Carson City to buy a quart of Southern Comfort and started drinking as we weaved down the the road. The good part was that she was going to Las Vegas so that covered a lot of ground on our way to the Grand Canyon. Looking back on it now she reminds me of Janis Joplin. She gave us a ride all the way to the outskirts of Henderson which is a suburb adjacent to Vegas.
So thumbs out again but this time the first car to stop is a police car. Two cops get out and inform us it's illegal to hitchhike in Nevada. This we did not know about when we started our journey. So the two cops start in on the classic good cop, bad cop routine. The big mean cop makes us empty out our back packs and starts going through all our stuff. He comes across a bag of instant pancake mix in my pack. He does the old "Dragnet" TV routine and dips his finger in the pancake mix, tastes it, and says it might be drugs. Just then a second cop car pulls up just as the mean cop was threatening to take me to juvenile hall. The new cop seemed to have some authority over the other two and ordered them to leave. The new cop tells us to re-pack our stuff and get in his car.
Well this new cop is great ! He asks where we're from where we're going and some other stuff. He says, "You kids want to have some fun?" "Uh, sure," I reply. He turns on the siren and the flashing lights and floors that sucker. I mean we were rocketing down that two lane road, cars pulling over as this cop is sliding that big old Dodge around corners with the tires screeching and the siren wailing. I was holding on for dear life as I heard Bill in the back seat repeatedly shout, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" In a short time we were at Lake Mead and the cop pulls down this dirt road to the lake shore. He tells us this isn't really a legal camp spot but a lot of people come here to party and we should be safe here.
The cop leaves and Bill and I roll out our sleeping bags. As if on cue a Volkswagen bus pulls up full of hippies with jugs of cheap wine and the heavy scent of marijuana emanating from the van. We all introduce our selves and as the sky grows dark and the stars come out, the hippies share their wine and start swimming in the dank dirty waters that make up Lake Mead. I wade into the smelly water and one of the hippies sidles up next to me and says, "Do you know there's leeches in here?" I sprang out of the water that passes for a lake in Nevada and ran for the shore. Don't want no leeches on me!
Bill and I got up early the next morning and hiked back up to the highway. Through a succession of other rides we finally made it to our destination, the Grand Canyon! As luck would have it we got dropped off right by a grocery market that had a large bulletin board out front with a note from the rest of the group telling us which campsite they are at. Bill and I find the campsite and our friends sitting around the campfire.
We got up early the next morning to head into our descent of the canyon. If you've never been there, the Grand Canyon is quite a site to behold. Now I must admit, I was woefully unprepared for this trip. No tent, a small amount of food, and a little camping cook set with no camp stove (I planned to cook over a campfire), and some clean clothes.
As we started down the trail I sort of buddied up with Mark Loeffler who was the last in line. His feet hurt from his new hiking boots so we stopped to rest a lot. Pretty soon we were way behind the rest of the group. Mark and I could see the guys making their way down the switchback trail far down there to the first campsite. We finally catch up with the rest of the guys at camp. I start gathering firewood so we can cook some dinner. Just then a park ranger shows up and says, "No fires permitted in the canyon." Great! Now how are we going to cook our food? The ranger said they will be watching us and if they see a fire we are in big trouble. I ate some dried fruit and went to sleep. Some large lizards kept crawling over my sleeping bag waking me up.
The next morning we're up early to start the hike down to the canyon floor to a place called Phantom Ranch, a little snack bar and campground nestled amongst some trees with a little stream running through it. They run tours out of here where you ride mules and they serve you meals and give you the history of the canyon while saddled up.
Once again Mark and I find ourselves way behind the rest of the guys. We cross a small stream that looks to be a tributary to the bigger stream at the ranch. We make the decision to leave the trail and follow the stream thereby saving time and less hiking. Big mistake.
Started out harmless enough, just walking along the sides of this stream, then it was joined by other little streams. We started sliding down the river beds of polished rock on our butts, soaking our packs and ourselves in the process. We'd land into a little pond and then slide down the next natural water slide into the next pond. This was repeated many times until we got to one pond and looked over the edge. A huge waterfall with sheer cliffs all around. We could see Phantom Ranch from there but we couldn't get there. So we have to go back up the way we came..
This proved to be really challenging. The steep sides of the river bed afforded no hand holds so we couldn't just climb off to the sides to walk on land. We ended up with Mark climbing up me standing on my shoulders as I was getting soaked by the river pouring over me as he stood on my shoulders looking for any way to pull himself up and then stretch out his leg for me to pull myself up to where he was.
I really didn't think we were going to make it out of there. My arms were scraped and bleeding from the rocks and I was exhausted from little sleep and very little food. Mark was a good positive force, telling me, "Bob, we HAVE to do this. We can't give up!" It was really hard but we finally made it back to the trail.
As we stumble along the trail we see a little grove of trees along side a dried up creek bed. We decide to sit under the trees in the shade and take a break. I'm just kind of mindlessly walking when something makes me look down. Right where I was about to step is a coiled up rattlesnake. I've never jumped so high or so fast in my life! I yell for Mark who was behind me a ways. "Snake, snake!" I shout. He comes running up with his machete drawn. Now why he had this big knife strapped to his belt the whole time I don't know, but I was glad he had it at that moment. I grabbed a broken tree branch from the ground and walk cautiously back to the snake. We decide to just leave the thing be rather risk getting bitten.
We sit on a rock in the shade of some trees and try to make some sense of all this. We are wet, tired, hungry, and maybe a little scared. As we talk in this dry creek bed we hear a faint rustling in the dead leaves on the ground. We turn to look what this is and it's a large rattlesnake heading right towards us. We grab our packs and run like hell to get out of there.
A couple hours later we finally stagger into the campsite at Phantom Ranch. We don't bother to check in; just roll out our still damp bags and fall into a deep sleep. The next morning we find out through talking with other campers that the rest of our group had already moved on when we didn't show up the day earlier. Mark and I need some rest so we get a guy to buy us a six pack of beer from the little store as we aren't even close to being of legal drinking age. We gather some rocks from the shore of the stream and make a little dam so we had our own little swimming hole. So there we are floating in in our little pool, maybe 3 feet deep sipping on a cold beer. Then these little fish start nibbling at our toes. Not painful mind you; it actually felt kinda good. Just eating the dead skin I guess.
The next day we get an early start on hiking out of there. I'm feeling a little weak from not eating much so the hike out was kind of hard. We finally get to the top of the north rim and make our way to the campground. It's full as it's the 4th of July. We wander around and find a group of girls who say we can camp with them. Turns out they're nurses on a road trip vacation. They clean up my wounds and feed us a nice hot meal.
The next morning I awake and all I can think about was going home . Mark on the other hand wants to keep going, he wants to hitchhike to Yellowstone. I was about out of money and food so I really wanted to go home. I find a couple that was leaving for Vegas that morning and they said they would let me ride along. A strange couple in a souped up car. The guy was kinda sleazy and the girl seemed to be afraid of him. They drop me off right on the strip as they were going to one of the casinos. I walk a long way to the end of town and find a little motel and walk in to the office. I go to rent a room but I don't have enough money. The lady at the front desk lets me use the phone to call home. My mom says she can wire me some money but the lady tells me the Western Union office is way back in town and probably closed by now. Also my mom tells me they are going on vacation and won't be home when I get back.
Well it turns out the lady felt sorry for me and gave me a room for free. The few dollars I had left I spent at a nearby convenience store buying chips, dip, and some soda. I got up real early the next morning, showered and put on my last pair of clean clothes. Levis and a purple surfer shirt. If you don't remember surfer shirts they were a t-shirt with broad horizontal stripes in two colors going all the way around. I wanted to look my best and was hoping to make it all the way home on this day.
I stick out my thumb and after a little bit a car stops. I climb in and it's a middle aged guy on his way to work. I ask him where he works and he says a military base. I'm thinking this is kind of odd as there is nothing out there for as far as you could see. Plus, he wasn't wearing a uniform. He pulls over and there's a dirt road that runs through the desert and says this is where he goes to work. I get out and watch his car leave a plume of dust in the air as he drives the one lane dirt road. Area 51? Good possibility.
Well now I'm really in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no shade, no nothing. Finally a car pulls up and stops. The driver is very odd and creepy. A very large round head with some taped up glasses. He speaks in a high falsetto voice with a lisp. I didn't know who Truman Capote was at the time but that's kind of what he looked and sounded like. We go along for several miles and I'm definitely not liking this. There is something seriously wrong with this guy. All of a sudden the right front tire has a blowout. Truman Capote starts screaming but manages to get this junker of a car to the side of the road. He gets out and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to change a tire and doesn't know if he has a spare. I unlock the trunk and amongst all the junk in there I find an old bald spare and a rusty jack and lug wrench. I get the jack under the car and start loosening the lug nuts. Just then I hear a car coming up the road. I figure this is my chance to escape. I grab my pack from the back seat and flag down this old guy in a pick up. The weirdo with the flat tire is screaming for me to come back. He starts to run after the truck but the old guy drives away and asks, "What was that all about?" I tell him the guy was a creep and I just needed to get away.
This guy is sort of an old cowboy, he tells me he's only going as far as Goldfield . We talked and I remember him being very nice and a little concerned that someone so young was hitchhiking all by my lonesome out in the middle of Nevada. We get to Goldfield which is a town about two blocks long. A small general store, a gas station, some old boarded up buildings, and not much else. The old cowboy stops in front of the store and we walk in together. He talks with the lady at the counter as I walk around the store. The cowboy introduces me to the lady, her name is Millie. I thank the old cowboy for the ride and Millie gives me an apple and an orange.
She tells me to stay there for a little bit and then I can hitchhike from in front of her store. Her intuition was right, as we were talking the weirdo with the flat tire pulls up. She tells me to go to the back of the store and go into the storage room. I hurry back there just as Mr. Creepy comes in. He asks her has she seen a blond boy wearing a purple striped shirt. She says no and if he's not going to buy anything he has to leave. He drives away and Millie says the coast is clear. So I put my thumb out, standing in front of Millie's store, there's very little traffic. Finally, a guy stops in a newer orange station wagon. Before I can even open the door Millie runs out and talks to the driver. She gives me the okay sign and I get in.
This guy tells me he is a delivery person for printed photos and part of his route is on the north shore of Tahoe, Kings Beach, Tahoe City, and Incline Village. This is great news. At least I can make it to the top of Spooner Summit before he turns off to North Shore. We talked alot. I told him of my adventure and he tells me about his kids. We get to where he's supposed to turn to go around the lake but he just keeps right on driving down Hwy 50. He says, "Bob, I'm going to drive you right to your house." This guy is really nice and he reminded me of Ward Cleaver from the old Leave it to Beaver TV series.
Just as he said, he drove me right to the front door of my parents house on the corner of Glennwood and Pioneer, he waited in the driveway until I unlocked the door and waved to him everything was all right. What a kind thing for him to do. He went way out of his way to make sure I was okay.
I get inside and drop my pack to the floor and walk into the kitchen. There on the table is a note from my Mom telling me where they were and when they'd be back. Also that while I was gone my Schwinn Varsity 10 speed bike had been stolen. Bummer! But at least I was home and the refrigerator was full of food. I ate so much that evening I made myself sick.
I didn't really hitchhike much after that. My trip only lasted about 10 days but it felt much longer. I met all kinds of people and for the most part they were very kind. I got a job at the end of that summer washing dishes at a Mexican restaurant. I made enough to buy another bike, a better one than I originally had.
I leaned a lot on this little trip. Some people are truly kind and generous and will go out of their way to help someone. But unfortunately there's lots of kooks, weirdos, and people out there that want to hurt you. So be careful and take care and if you don't have to, don't hitchhike!
Bob
There were six of us, all with our back packs stuffed full with food and a few changes of clothes. We split up into pairs figuring it would be easier to get rides. My dad dropped me and my friend Bill Scheffel off in front of Barney's casino with our packs and high expectations for what lay ahead.
We had our thumbs out and in no time a beat up old station wagon pulls over. We put our packs in the back; I sit in the front seat with Bill taking the back seat. The driver is a woman with frizzed out hair dressed in a tank top and dirty Levis; kind of a dirty biker hippy chick. I suddenly notice a strong smell and then we hear a baby crying. She's got her little boy in a cardboard box in the back and he had pooped his pants. Bill offered to change the kids diaper if she would pull over but she said no...everything is fine. God it stunk.
This "Lady" was something else. She stopped in Carson City to buy a quart of Southern Comfort and started drinking as we weaved down the the road. The good part was that she was going to Las Vegas so that covered a lot of ground on our way to the Grand Canyon. Looking back on it now she reminds me of Janis Joplin. She gave us a ride all the way to the outskirts of Henderson which is a suburb adjacent to Vegas.
So thumbs out again but this time the first car to stop is a police car. Two cops get out and inform us it's illegal to hitchhike in Nevada. This we did not know about when we started our journey. So the two cops start in on the classic good cop, bad cop routine. The big mean cop makes us empty out our back packs and starts going through all our stuff. He comes across a bag of instant pancake mix in my pack. He does the old "Dragnet" TV routine and dips his finger in the pancake mix, tastes it, and says it might be drugs. Just then a second cop car pulls up just as the mean cop was threatening to take me to juvenile hall. The new cop seemed to have some authority over the other two and ordered them to leave. The new cop tells us to re-pack our stuff and get in his car.
Well this new cop is great ! He asks where we're from where we're going and some other stuff. He says, "You kids want to have some fun?" "Uh, sure," I reply. He turns on the siren and the flashing lights and floors that sucker. I mean we were rocketing down that two lane road, cars pulling over as this cop is sliding that big old Dodge around corners with the tires screeching and the siren wailing. I was holding on for dear life as I heard Bill in the back seat repeatedly shout, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" In a short time we were at Lake Mead and the cop pulls down this dirt road to the lake shore. He tells us this isn't really a legal camp spot but a lot of people come here to party and we should be safe here.
The cop leaves and Bill and I roll out our sleeping bags. As if on cue a Volkswagen bus pulls up full of hippies with jugs of cheap wine and the heavy scent of marijuana emanating from the van. We all introduce our selves and as the sky grows dark and the stars come out, the hippies share their wine and start swimming in the dank dirty waters that make up Lake Mead. I wade into the smelly water and one of the hippies sidles up next to me and says, "Do you know there's leeches in here?" I sprang out of the water that passes for a lake in Nevada and ran for the shore. Don't want no leeches on me!
Bill and I got up early the next morning and hiked back up to the highway. Through a succession of other rides we finally made it to our destination, the Grand Canyon! As luck would have it we got dropped off right by a grocery market that had a large bulletin board out front with a note from the rest of the group telling us which campsite they are at. Bill and I find the campsite and our friends sitting around the campfire.
We got up early the next morning to head into our descent of the canyon. If you've never been there, the Grand Canyon is quite a site to behold. Now I must admit, I was woefully unprepared for this trip. No tent, a small amount of food, and a little camping cook set with no camp stove (I planned to cook over a campfire), and some clean clothes.
As we started down the trail I sort of buddied up with Mark Loeffler who was the last in line. His feet hurt from his new hiking boots so we stopped to rest a lot. Pretty soon we were way behind the rest of the group. Mark and I could see the guys making their way down the switchback trail far down there to the first campsite. We finally catch up with the rest of the guys at camp. I start gathering firewood so we can cook some dinner. Just then a park ranger shows up and says, "No fires permitted in the canyon." Great! Now how are we going to cook our food? The ranger said they will be watching us and if they see a fire we are in big trouble. I ate some dried fruit and went to sleep. Some large lizards kept crawling over my sleeping bag waking me up.
The next morning we're up early to start the hike down to the canyon floor to a place called Phantom Ranch, a little snack bar and campground nestled amongst some trees with a little stream running through it. They run tours out of here where you ride mules and they serve you meals and give you the history of the canyon while saddled up.
Once again Mark and I find ourselves way behind the rest of the guys. We cross a small stream that looks to be a tributary to the bigger stream at the ranch. We make the decision to leave the trail and follow the stream thereby saving time and less hiking. Big mistake.
Started out harmless enough, just walking along the sides of this stream, then it was joined by other little streams. We started sliding down the river beds of polished rock on our butts, soaking our packs and ourselves in the process. We'd land into a little pond and then slide down the next natural water slide into the next pond. This was repeated many times until we got to one pond and looked over the edge. A huge waterfall with sheer cliffs all around. We could see Phantom Ranch from there but we couldn't get there. So we have to go back up the way we came..
This proved to be really challenging. The steep sides of the river bed afforded no hand holds so we couldn't just climb off to the sides to walk on land. We ended up with Mark climbing up me standing on my shoulders as I was getting soaked by the river pouring over me as he stood on my shoulders looking for any way to pull himself up and then stretch out his leg for me to pull myself up to where he was.
I really didn't think we were going to make it out of there. My arms were scraped and bleeding from the rocks and I was exhausted from little sleep and very little food. Mark was a good positive force, telling me, "Bob, we HAVE to do this. We can't give up!" It was really hard but we finally made it back to the trail.
As we stumble along the trail we see a little grove of trees along side a dried up creek bed. We decide to sit under the trees in the shade and take a break. I'm just kind of mindlessly walking when something makes me look down. Right where I was about to step is a coiled up rattlesnake. I've never jumped so high or so fast in my life! I yell for Mark who was behind me a ways. "Snake, snake!" I shout. He comes running up with his machete drawn. Now why he had this big knife strapped to his belt the whole time I don't know, but I was glad he had it at that moment. I grabbed a broken tree branch from the ground and walk cautiously back to the snake. We decide to just leave the thing be rather risk getting bitten.
We sit on a rock in the shade of some trees and try to make some sense of all this. We are wet, tired, hungry, and maybe a little scared. As we talk in this dry creek bed we hear a faint rustling in the dead leaves on the ground. We turn to look what this is and it's a large rattlesnake heading right towards us. We grab our packs and run like hell to get out of there.
A couple hours later we finally stagger into the campsite at Phantom Ranch. We don't bother to check in; just roll out our still damp bags and fall into a deep sleep. The next morning we find out through talking with other campers that the rest of our group had already moved on when we didn't show up the day earlier. Mark and I need some rest so we get a guy to buy us a six pack of beer from the little store as we aren't even close to being of legal drinking age. We gather some rocks from the shore of the stream and make a little dam so we had our own little swimming hole. So there we are floating in in our little pool, maybe 3 feet deep sipping on a cold beer. Then these little fish start nibbling at our toes. Not painful mind you; it actually felt kinda good. Just eating the dead skin I guess.
The next day we get an early start on hiking out of there. I'm feeling a little weak from not eating much so the hike out was kind of hard. We finally get to the top of the north rim and make our way to the campground. It's full as it's the 4th of July. We wander around and find a group of girls who say we can camp with them. Turns out they're nurses on a road trip vacation. They clean up my wounds and feed us a nice hot meal.
The next morning I awake and all I can think about was going home . Mark on the other hand wants to keep going, he wants to hitchhike to Yellowstone. I was about out of money and food so I really wanted to go home. I find a couple that was leaving for Vegas that morning and they said they would let me ride along. A strange couple in a souped up car. The guy was kinda sleazy and the girl seemed to be afraid of him. They drop me off right on the strip as they were going to one of the casinos. I walk a long way to the end of town and find a little motel and walk in to the office. I go to rent a room but I don't have enough money. The lady at the front desk lets me use the phone to call home. My mom says she can wire me some money but the lady tells me the Western Union office is way back in town and probably closed by now. Also my mom tells me they are going on vacation and won't be home when I get back.
Well it turns out the lady felt sorry for me and gave me a room for free. The few dollars I had left I spent at a nearby convenience store buying chips, dip, and some soda. I got up real early the next morning, showered and put on my last pair of clean clothes. Levis and a purple surfer shirt. If you don't remember surfer shirts they were a t-shirt with broad horizontal stripes in two colors going all the way around. I wanted to look my best and was hoping to make it all the way home on this day.
I stick out my thumb and after a little bit a car stops. I climb in and it's a middle aged guy on his way to work. I ask him where he works and he says a military base. I'm thinking this is kind of odd as there is nothing out there for as far as you could see. Plus, he wasn't wearing a uniform. He pulls over and there's a dirt road that runs through the desert and says this is where he goes to work. I get out and watch his car leave a plume of dust in the air as he drives the one lane dirt road. Area 51? Good possibility.
Well now I'm really in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no shade, no nothing. Finally a car pulls up and stops. The driver is very odd and creepy. A very large round head with some taped up glasses. He speaks in a high falsetto voice with a lisp. I didn't know who Truman Capote was at the time but that's kind of what he looked and sounded like. We go along for several miles and I'm definitely not liking this. There is something seriously wrong with this guy. All of a sudden the right front tire has a blowout. Truman Capote starts screaming but manages to get this junker of a car to the side of the road. He gets out and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to change a tire and doesn't know if he has a spare. I unlock the trunk and amongst all the junk in there I find an old bald spare and a rusty jack and lug wrench. I get the jack under the car and start loosening the lug nuts. Just then I hear a car coming up the road. I figure this is my chance to escape. I grab my pack from the back seat and flag down this old guy in a pick up. The weirdo with the flat tire is screaming for me to come back. He starts to run after the truck but the old guy drives away and asks, "What was that all about?" I tell him the guy was a creep and I just needed to get away.
This guy is sort of an old cowboy, he tells me he's only going as far as Goldfield . We talked and I remember him being very nice and a little concerned that someone so young was hitchhiking all by my lonesome out in the middle of Nevada. We get to Goldfield which is a town about two blocks long. A small general store, a gas station, some old boarded up buildings, and not much else. The old cowboy stops in front of the store and we walk in together. He talks with the lady at the counter as I walk around the store. The cowboy introduces me to the lady, her name is Millie. I thank the old cowboy for the ride and Millie gives me an apple and an orange.
She tells me to stay there for a little bit and then I can hitchhike from in front of her store. Her intuition was right, as we were talking the weirdo with the flat tire pulls up. She tells me to go to the back of the store and go into the storage room. I hurry back there just as Mr. Creepy comes in. He asks her has she seen a blond boy wearing a purple striped shirt. She says no and if he's not going to buy anything he has to leave. He drives away and Millie says the coast is clear. So I put my thumb out, standing in front of Millie's store, there's very little traffic. Finally, a guy stops in a newer orange station wagon. Before I can even open the door Millie runs out and talks to the driver. She gives me the okay sign and I get in.
This guy tells me he is a delivery person for printed photos and part of his route is on the north shore of Tahoe, Kings Beach, Tahoe City, and Incline Village. This is great news. At least I can make it to the top of Spooner Summit before he turns off to North Shore. We talked alot. I told him of my adventure and he tells me about his kids. We get to where he's supposed to turn to go around the lake but he just keeps right on driving down Hwy 50. He says, "Bob, I'm going to drive you right to your house." This guy is really nice and he reminded me of Ward Cleaver from the old Leave it to Beaver TV series.
Just as he said, he drove me right to the front door of my parents house on the corner of Glennwood and Pioneer, he waited in the driveway until I unlocked the door and waved to him everything was all right. What a kind thing for him to do. He went way out of his way to make sure I was okay.
I get inside and drop my pack to the floor and walk into the kitchen. There on the table is a note from my Mom telling me where they were and when they'd be back. Also that while I was gone my Schwinn Varsity 10 speed bike had been stolen. Bummer! But at least I was home and the refrigerator was full of food. I ate so much that evening I made myself sick.
I didn't really hitchhike much after that. My trip only lasted about 10 days but it felt much longer. I met all kinds of people and for the most part they were very kind. I got a job at the end of that summer washing dishes at a Mexican restaurant. I made enough to buy another bike, a better one than I originally had.
I leaned a lot on this little trip. Some people are truly kind and generous and will go out of their way to help someone. But unfortunately there's lots of kooks, weirdos, and people out there that want to hurt you. So be careful and take care and if you don't have to, don't hitchhike!
Bob
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Brainwashing Boot Camp
So it's September of 1997, I'm driving my garbage truck almost at the end of my route. It's raining heavily and I'm soaked to the skin. I get a call on the radio from Jeff, the big boss at the company telling me to come upstairs and see him as soon as I'm done . Oh boy, what am I in trouble for now? I make my way back to the yard and with wet hair clinging to my cheeks and enter the office. Two other drivers are already there along with Jeff. The boss announces that the route supervisor had given notice of leaving and would one of us be interested in taking that position.
The boss also says there will be a pay raise and a company truck to whoever takes the job. He doesn't want an answer right then, just go home and think about it and get back to him. I found it strange that he was asking all three of us at once and said as much to him.
I come home and Christy is at work. I go around the corner to my friend Dan's house and he's not home either. I had no one to talk this over with. So I pace the floor thinking should I do this or not. My knees and back were getting worse from years of wear and tear and I liked the idea of not driving the truck and not dumping cans. On the negative side this is the dreaded middle management position, taking heat from all sides. The owners, the customers, the crew and just about everyone else.
After much thought I called back to work and accepted the position that afternoon. Jeff was glad to hear it but there was a catch. I had to attend a training seminar from an outfit called Rapport Leadership International. This is a three day seminar held at an old ranch out in the middle of the Nevada desert about, 100 miles east of Las Vegas. Jeff and some of the other owners of STR had been through this training as well. I agree to go through with this and Jeff signs me up for this program and makes plane reservations.
After a bit I start getting newsletters from this Rapport outfit. They are all really vague as to what they're really about and whats in this training. I ask the owners at STR and they won't talk about it either, it's all a big secret. Then shortly before my departure for the desert, Jeff hands me a paper sack containing an odd assortment of items. A little plastic knife like a kid would play with, some cough drops, a compass, a package of balloons and some other stuff. Again with no explanation.
The big day arrives and I fly into Vegas and take a cab to this office building where this outfit is headquartered, duffel bag with fresh clothes in one hand and my little sack that Jeff gave me in the other. I walk into this room and there's about thirty people there all with there little paper sacks and over night bags. Everyone is full of questions. "What's this all about?", "what am I supposed to do with these kiddy toys my boss gave me?".Suddenly a very large black man dressed all in black enters the room and starts shouting at everyone to set down there suitcases and paper bags and form a line single file, shoulder to shoulder and there's to be no talking. The guy standing next to me saw I was wearing a Dale Earnhardt t shirt and whispered he is a fan to. The big guy in black heard him and got in his face shouting at him to shut up and then glared at me.
We were then instructed gather up our stuff and to pile into the vans outside for our trip to Rainbow Ranch, "and NO talking". It was a long bumpy ride on the unpaved desert road.Me and my new NASCAR fan buddy sat in the back of the van comparing the odd items given to us by our bosses in our paper sacks.
Rainbow Ranch was at one time a real working ranch, although old it's in pretty fair shape. A large dining hall and kitchen with several adjoining rooms that had bunk beds and a couple of bathrooms at the end of the hall. There is a river off in the distance with some trees but we were immediately told that it was off limits to go over to the river.
I was assigned to one of the rooms to share with three other guys.Once in the safe confines of our bunkhouse everyone wants to know "why are they yelling at us?", "what kind of program is this?". One guy says he'd been in the military and that's how they treat you in boot camp. Break you down, then fill you with their propaganda and then build you back up with all kinds of positive talk making you believe the bullshit.
In no time at at all we were all called in for our first training session or class or whatever the heck it was. There was a blond woman all dressed in black and right off the bat she starts shouting at everyone to shut up and pay attention.We are all wearing name tags and she calls on me first to give a speech on the importance of punctuality, five minutes in lenght. Oh yeah and you have to say everything in a very loud voice and you also have to address everyone there by their last names. So as the seconds tick by I gave it my best shot. I did okay but the last couple of minutes I'd run out of stuff to talk about punctuality so I resorted to telling jokes. The blond in black called on a woman after me and this lady was pissed off. She says "Everybody here had there company pay for them to be here. I'm self employed and I didn't pay 600 bucks to be yelled at and treated this way". She was told they would give her a ride back to Vegas and her 600 dollars was un refundable.
We were forced to write letters to friends family or our bosses saying how much we loved being there and what a positive experience it was and that they to should sign up for the "training". After writing numerous essays and shouting out lots of speeches on the most ludicrous of topics, group hugs and a bunch of other nonsense, we got closer to graduation.
Now this final day at this place was most interesting. You were required to give an impassioned speech about how much you got out of the time you spent at Rainbow Ranch and the training. If you don't do it good enough you have to keep doing it until the people in the black clothes are satisfied. The first person chosen gave a good talk but the harsh instructors said "not good enough, not enough emotion". I'm called up next. Now I'd seen thru this whole scam early on, plus I figure I'll never see these people again so what do I care. I take the floor and go all out. Flailing my arms about and shouting what a marvelous journey this has been and now I'm a changed man. I throw myself to the floor and start crying and blubbering what a wonderful program it is.
I passed with flying colors. A nod to my brother Eric, you're not the only actor in the family!So I set the bar pretty high for the rest of the contestants. After my performance everyone was rolling around on the floor and doing anything they could to get approval of the people in black.Once that was all done we sat in a circle and the lady in black goes on to explain the more advanced class that is more physical in nature and gives out the dates and then she passes around a sign up sheet for the date you want and the big black guy is there with a device to slide there credit cards through.And you know what? Everyone but me signs up for phase 2 ,even the girl that was so angry at the beginning. Brain washing at its finest my friends.
So after they get every ones money to come back and climb ropes and walk on burning coals(yes, that was part of phase 2)we are all marched out to the back deck of the ranch house and shout out the "America The Beautiful" ., the full song. There were only three people in attendance to watch this . Two of them being my boss and his wife . I thought that was cool as they came all that way to hear me do this and then drive me back to the airport. My throat was as everybody elses extremely hoarse from shouting for three days. And yes, if you didn't shout it out loud enough you had to keep doing it until you were approved by the people in black.
Now I can't say this whole thing was useless. I came away with more self confidence and I found out how easily people can be manipulated. Looking back on it I guess in some ways it helped me(but mostly it was bullshit). Oh a couple of last things. The paper sacks with kid toys? Really they meant nothing other than to make you curious and nervous about what your going to be involved with in this adventure. This outfit was sued out of existence as there were many injuries during phase two. Some people had there toenails catch fire while walking on the hot coals and suffered severe burns. The safety harness failed while people were climbing the rope and there were broken bones. The cafeteria failed many inspections by the health dept.
Another thing I learned while there was from and older gentlleman who was a CEO for a large steel company and was in charge of a huge number of employees . I expressed my nervousnes about becoming the new supervisor at the garbage co.. As we had lunch together one day I asked....Should I be strict?... should I be freindly? Or what? He told me quite simply "Bob, just be yourself". Good advice. Well it was good advice for a long time and then they got tired of old Bob at work and was abruptly shown the door.But thats a whole ' nother story.
Take care, Bob
The boss also says there will be a pay raise and a company truck to whoever takes the job. He doesn't want an answer right then, just go home and think about it and get back to him. I found it strange that he was asking all three of us at once and said as much to him.
I come home and Christy is at work. I go around the corner to my friend Dan's house and he's not home either. I had no one to talk this over with. So I pace the floor thinking should I do this or not. My knees and back were getting worse from years of wear and tear and I liked the idea of not driving the truck and not dumping cans. On the negative side this is the dreaded middle management position, taking heat from all sides. The owners, the customers, the crew and just about everyone else.
After much thought I called back to work and accepted the position that afternoon. Jeff was glad to hear it but there was a catch. I had to attend a training seminar from an outfit called Rapport Leadership International. This is a three day seminar held at an old ranch out in the middle of the Nevada desert about, 100 miles east of Las Vegas. Jeff and some of the other owners of STR had been through this training as well. I agree to go through with this and Jeff signs me up for this program and makes plane reservations.
After a bit I start getting newsletters from this Rapport outfit. They are all really vague as to what they're really about and whats in this training. I ask the owners at STR and they won't talk about it either, it's all a big secret. Then shortly before my departure for the desert, Jeff hands me a paper sack containing an odd assortment of items. A little plastic knife like a kid would play with, some cough drops, a compass, a package of balloons and some other stuff. Again with no explanation.
The big day arrives and I fly into Vegas and take a cab to this office building where this outfit is headquartered, duffel bag with fresh clothes in one hand and my little sack that Jeff gave me in the other. I walk into this room and there's about thirty people there all with there little paper sacks and over night bags. Everyone is full of questions. "What's this all about?", "what am I supposed to do with these kiddy toys my boss gave me?".Suddenly a very large black man dressed all in black enters the room and starts shouting at everyone to set down there suitcases and paper bags and form a line single file, shoulder to shoulder and there's to be no talking. The guy standing next to me saw I was wearing a Dale Earnhardt t shirt and whispered he is a fan to. The big guy in black heard him and got in his face shouting at him to shut up and then glared at me.
We were then instructed gather up our stuff and to pile into the vans outside for our trip to Rainbow Ranch, "and NO talking". It was a long bumpy ride on the unpaved desert road.Me and my new NASCAR fan buddy sat in the back of the van comparing the odd items given to us by our bosses in our paper sacks.
Rainbow Ranch was at one time a real working ranch, although old it's in pretty fair shape. A large dining hall and kitchen with several adjoining rooms that had bunk beds and a couple of bathrooms at the end of the hall. There is a river off in the distance with some trees but we were immediately told that it was off limits to go over to the river.
I was assigned to one of the rooms to share with three other guys.Once in the safe confines of our bunkhouse everyone wants to know "why are they yelling at us?", "what kind of program is this?". One guy says he'd been in the military and that's how they treat you in boot camp. Break you down, then fill you with their propaganda and then build you back up with all kinds of positive talk making you believe the bullshit.
In no time at at all we were all called in for our first training session or class or whatever the heck it was. There was a blond woman all dressed in black and right off the bat she starts shouting at everyone to shut up and pay attention.We are all wearing name tags and she calls on me first to give a speech on the importance of punctuality, five minutes in lenght. Oh yeah and you have to say everything in a very loud voice and you also have to address everyone there by their last names. So as the seconds tick by I gave it my best shot. I did okay but the last couple of minutes I'd run out of stuff to talk about punctuality so I resorted to telling jokes. The blond in black called on a woman after me and this lady was pissed off. She says "Everybody here had there company pay for them to be here. I'm self employed and I didn't pay 600 bucks to be yelled at and treated this way". She was told they would give her a ride back to Vegas and her 600 dollars was un refundable.
We were forced to write letters to friends family or our bosses saying how much we loved being there and what a positive experience it was and that they to should sign up for the "training". After writing numerous essays and shouting out lots of speeches on the most ludicrous of topics, group hugs and a bunch of other nonsense, we got closer to graduation.
Now this final day at this place was most interesting. You were required to give an impassioned speech about how much you got out of the time you spent at Rainbow Ranch and the training. If you don't do it good enough you have to keep doing it until the people in the black clothes are satisfied. The first person chosen gave a good talk but the harsh instructors said "not good enough, not enough emotion". I'm called up next. Now I'd seen thru this whole scam early on, plus I figure I'll never see these people again so what do I care. I take the floor and go all out. Flailing my arms about and shouting what a marvelous journey this has been and now I'm a changed man. I throw myself to the floor and start crying and blubbering what a wonderful program it is.
I passed with flying colors. A nod to my brother Eric, you're not the only actor in the family!So I set the bar pretty high for the rest of the contestants. After my performance everyone was rolling around on the floor and doing anything they could to get approval of the people in black.Once that was all done we sat in a circle and the lady in black goes on to explain the more advanced class that is more physical in nature and gives out the dates and then she passes around a sign up sheet for the date you want and the big black guy is there with a device to slide there credit cards through.And you know what? Everyone but me signs up for phase 2 ,even the girl that was so angry at the beginning. Brain washing at its finest my friends.
So after they get every ones money to come back and climb ropes and walk on burning coals(yes, that was part of phase 2)we are all marched out to the back deck of the ranch house and shout out the "America The Beautiful" ., the full song. There were only three people in attendance to watch this . Two of them being my boss and his wife . I thought that was cool as they came all that way to hear me do this and then drive me back to the airport. My throat was as everybody elses extremely hoarse from shouting for three days. And yes, if you didn't shout it out loud enough you had to keep doing it until you were approved by the people in black.
Now I can't say this whole thing was useless. I came away with more self confidence and I found out how easily people can be manipulated. Looking back on it I guess in some ways it helped me(but mostly it was bullshit). Oh a couple of last things. The paper sacks with kid toys? Really they meant nothing other than to make you curious and nervous about what your going to be involved with in this adventure. This outfit was sued out of existence as there were many injuries during phase two. Some people had there toenails catch fire while walking on the hot coals and suffered severe burns. The safety harness failed while people were climbing the rope and there were broken bones. The cafeteria failed many inspections by the health dept.
Another thing I learned while there was from and older gentlleman who was a CEO for a large steel company and was in charge of a huge number of employees . I expressed my nervousnes about becoming the new supervisor at the garbage co.. As we had lunch together one day I asked....Should I be strict?... should I be freindly? Or what? He told me quite simply "Bob, just be yourself". Good advice. Well it was good advice for a long time and then they got tired of old Bob at work and was abruptly shown the door.But thats a whole ' nother story.
Take care, Bob
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Marryin' Sam
I'm sure you've heard of Sadie Hawkins Day. If not here's a brief rundown. A long time ago there was a popular comic strip called Li'l Abner and it took place in a remote village called Dogpatch which was populated with hillbillies and other country type folks. There was a woman in the comic strip named Sadie Hawkins who was "not too purty" as Al Capp the cartoonist wrote it, and single. Her father, anxious to get her married and out of his house, started a contest. All the single men would line up for a foot race with Sadie running behind. Whoever she caught that guy had to marry her.
Well this idea from the comic strip caught on and there were lots of Sadie Hawkins dances where the girl would ask the guy to go to the dance rather than the other way around. So this brings me to tell you when I was "Marryin' Sam"
I'm in the eighth grade here at the Intermediate school, as it was called back then in 1967. It's announced there's going to be a Sadie Hawkins dance so it's up to the girls to ask the boys for a date. The girls really seemed to like this idea,...the boys, well, not so much.
Now for reasons unknown to me I was chosen by the teachers to be "Marryin' Sam", the Preacher who would say the wedding vows and unite the couples at the dance in Holy Matrimony. Can I get a "Hallelujah" brothers and sisters , Amen.So I was reluctant to do this at first but then I really got into it. I used some white medical tape on a black turtleneck shirt to make a preacher's collar and I started practicing reciting the wedding vows. I had been to a few weddings as well as watched fake ones on TV so I had a general idea of what to say or should I say "invoke".
The big day arrives, my Dad drops me off at the school and I'm wearing the the shirt with the tape for a collar. A girl I know comes running over with a large black hat with a flat brim to complete the look of the Preacher. She plunks it down on my head. Now I started feeling kinda foolish.
We all enter the school and head to the auditorium. The lights are only partly on so it's pretty dark . In one corner there's a teacher with a stack of records and a turntable set up on a table. In another corner is a wooden lectern with an overhead spotlight shining down on it, that's were I'm supposed to perform the "ceremonies". When I see my "pulpit" and the spotlight my stomach turns into knots. I think to myself, "I can't do this". A bad case of cold feet and stage fright. I spin around on my heels and head for the door figuring I'll just walk home. I'm stopped by a group of girls who grab me by the arms and surround me. The leader of the pack, Leevon, gets in my face and tells me I HAVE to do this, everyone is counting on me. I'm pushed and pulled back to the room and take my place behind the wooden stand with the light beaming down
In a very short time a line was forming for couples to be "Hitched". The girls were all just ...beaming! Eye's sparkling, hair all done up and wearing their favorite dress. The boys on the other hand had there heads bent down looking at their shoes , tugging at the side of their corduroy pants with one hand while reluctantly holding the girls hand with the other.
After I went through the first couple of little ceremonies I really began to enjoy this . Yes, the ham in me came out and I really started playing it up. Gesturing with my hands, modulating my voice, oh yeah and I got rid of the hat. Before I knew it the line before me was huge. Not to sound too braggadocios, but I put on quite a show.
At the end of dance Leevon came over to me and said she wanted to marry me.I said I couldn't as I was the Preacher and couldn't be married. I could see I hurt her feelings and we never really talked after that. I'm sorry Leevon , wherever you are.
Dad picked me up in the car and drove me home. I remember being really tired but also kind of happy. I liked being in the spot light standing behind the lectern and reciting the vows along with the occasional corny joke. Once a ham, always a ham.
Take care, Bob or "Marryin' Sam" if you prefer.
Well this idea from the comic strip caught on and there were lots of Sadie Hawkins dances where the girl would ask the guy to go to the dance rather than the other way around. So this brings me to tell you when I was "Marryin' Sam"
I'm in the eighth grade here at the Intermediate school, as it was called back then in 1967. It's announced there's going to be a Sadie Hawkins dance so it's up to the girls to ask the boys for a date. The girls really seemed to like this idea,...the boys, well, not so much.
Now for reasons unknown to me I was chosen by the teachers to be "Marryin' Sam", the Preacher who would say the wedding vows and unite the couples at the dance in Holy Matrimony. Can I get a "Hallelujah" brothers and sisters , Amen.So I was reluctant to do this at first but then I really got into it. I used some white medical tape on a black turtleneck shirt to make a preacher's collar and I started practicing reciting the wedding vows. I had been to a few weddings as well as watched fake ones on TV so I had a general idea of what to say or should I say "invoke".
The big day arrives, my Dad drops me off at the school and I'm wearing the the shirt with the tape for a collar. A girl I know comes running over with a large black hat with a flat brim to complete the look of the Preacher. She plunks it down on my head. Now I started feeling kinda foolish.
We all enter the school and head to the auditorium. The lights are only partly on so it's pretty dark . In one corner there's a teacher with a stack of records and a turntable set up on a table. In another corner is a wooden lectern with an overhead spotlight shining down on it, that's were I'm supposed to perform the "ceremonies". When I see my "pulpit" and the spotlight my stomach turns into knots. I think to myself, "I can't do this". A bad case of cold feet and stage fright. I spin around on my heels and head for the door figuring I'll just walk home. I'm stopped by a group of girls who grab me by the arms and surround me. The leader of the pack, Leevon, gets in my face and tells me I HAVE to do this, everyone is counting on me. I'm pushed and pulled back to the room and take my place behind the wooden stand with the light beaming down
In a very short time a line was forming for couples to be "Hitched". The girls were all just ...beaming! Eye's sparkling, hair all done up and wearing their favorite dress. The boys on the other hand had there heads bent down looking at their shoes , tugging at the side of their corduroy pants with one hand while reluctantly holding the girls hand with the other.
After I went through the first couple of little ceremonies I really began to enjoy this . Yes, the ham in me came out and I really started playing it up. Gesturing with my hands, modulating my voice, oh yeah and I got rid of the hat. Before I knew it the line before me was huge. Not to sound too braggadocios, but I put on quite a show.
At the end of dance Leevon came over to me and said she wanted to marry me.I said I couldn't as I was the Preacher and couldn't be married. I could see I hurt her feelings and we never really talked after that. I'm sorry Leevon , wherever you are.
Dad picked me up in the car and drove me home. I remember being really tired but also kind of happy. I liked being in the spot light standing behind the lectern and reciting the vows along with the occasional corny joke. Once a ham, always a ham.
Take care, Bob or "Marryin' Sam" if you prefer.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Iceman
So yesterday I was chipping at the ice in the driveway and thought of Sisyphus, a story from Greek mythology. Sisyphus had tricked the devil and avoided his demise. When he finally died at a ripe old age he found himself in Hades. Satan assigns him the task of rolling a large boulder up a hill only to have it roll to the bottom when he's almost to the top. Then repeat this task for all eternity...always pushing the boulder up the hill, over and over.
I had been doing good with keeping the driveway, back deck and wood pile pretty clear of snow. We had a few good sized storms that were heavy with wet snow. The temperatures finally rose a little and all that heavy snow began to fall from the weighted branches making for a constant whumping sound on the roof.
I thought "Oh I'll get to it tomorrow morning, I'm sore from shoveling right now". Big mistake. The temperature plunged that night and everything froze up. So as I pick at the ice in the driveway I thought of that old Greek story. No , I'm not Sisyphus, no my driveway isn't the hill and the snow and ice isn't the boulder that he had to push for eternity. Their are similarities though.
My neighbor / tenant called out to me the other day as I was chipping away and said, "You're really in your element, aren't you Bob". I laughed and said maybe I am. But my real "element" is something entirely different.....Waking up early on the boat,watching the sunrise. Start the engine, trolling along the shoreline at a slow speed, lots of line out with my favorite lure tied firmly to the end, watchting and waiting for my pole to bend as I get a bite. Sitting on the back deck watching the eagles and osprey in their nests. The waterfowl as they glide across the glassy water looking for a fish breakfast. Fire up the stove to heat the water for Christy's morning coffee and cookies. Lucky and I have already had an early breakfast. As the day unfolds we go for several dips into the cool water and listen to music and get a dinner ready. Then it's time for a game of Rummy and maybe a movie on the portable dvd player. Falling asleep looking up at the stars from the overhead windows in the v berth up in the bow of the boat. Now THAT'S my "element"!
A long time ago my friend Doug and I used to say "If you want to dance you have to pay the fiddler".So maybe thats what its all about. I can't ski anymore so now I'm relagated to shoveling and chopping at the ice so I can enjoy my time in the sun come summer.Hhmm...
funny how things work out.
Take care, Bob of the boat ...(in a few months anyway)
I had been doing good with keeping the driveway, back deck and wood pile pretty clear of snow. We had a few good sized storms that were heavy with wet snow. The temperatures finally rose a little and all that heavy snow began to fall from the weighted branches making for a constant whumping sound on the roof.
I thought "Oh I'll get to it tomorrow morning, I'm sore from shoveling right now". Big mistake. The temperature plunged that night and everything froze up. So as I pick at the ice in the driveway I thought of that old Greek story. No , I'm not Sisyphus, no my driveway isn't the hill and the snow and ice isn't the boulder that he had to push for eternity. Their are similarities though.
My neighbor / tenant called out to me the other day as I was chipping away and said, "You're really in your element, aren't you Bob". I laughed and said maybe I am. But my real "element" is something entirely different.....Waking up early on the boat,watching the sunrise. Start the engine, trolling along the shoreline at a slow speed, lots of line out with my favorite lure tied firmly to the end, watchting and waiting for my pole to bend as I get a bite. Sitting on the back deck watching the eagles and osprey in their nests. The waterfowl as they glide across the glassy water looking for a fish breakfast. Fire up the stove to heat the water for Christy's morning coffee and cookies. Lucky and I have already had an early breakfast. As the day unfolds we go for several dips into the cool water and listen to music and get a dinner ready. Then it's time for a game of Rummy and maybe a movie on the portable dvd player. Falling asleep looking up at the stars from the overhead windows in the v berth up in the bow of the boat. Now THAT'S my "element"!
A long time ago my friend Doug and I used to say "If you want to dance you have to pay the fiddler".So maybe thats what its all about. I can't ski anymore so now I'm relagated to shoveling and chopping at the ice so I can enjoy my time in the sun come summer.Hhmm...
funny how things work out.
Take care, Bob of the boat ...(in a few months anyway)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Religion and Politics
I'd like to start off by thanking those that wrote me back regarding the tragedy in Tuscon. I'm aware that my view of things you may not share but I'm glad you shared yours with me.At least I know your reading this drivel. It takes me a long time to peck these things out with one finger so I appreciate any and all input. Many of you are conservative politically so sometimes I feel all alone out here in the Liberal landscape.I did think of this as I read your replies.
One day last summer, like so many others , I decided to sit outside in my folding chair. I gather up all my stuff, the portable radio, Mother Jones magazine, peanuts and a glass of wine. It's a beautiful day with the sun filtering through the trees . A light breeze, just enough to lightly ring the wind chimes. Birds and squirrels at the feeder, chirping and chattering.. The yard has been watered and everything is in various stages of blossoming.
So I get all set up, the radio tuned to NPR (national public radio) sitting on top of the stump next to my chair . Along side the radio I've got the nuts, my glass and my liberal magazine. Oh yeah , I'm in shorts, a Kucinich for president tank top and wearing my "I did not vote for Bush" bracelet on my wrist. A beautiful day in Liberal Land!
My neighbor across the street is working in his garage and walks on over. We exchange hellos and then he says " I'm a Christian, you know". I almost replied "I'm a Capricorn", but thought better of it. He went on to tell me of his moral values and such . I don't know why he was telling me this. Was it my shirt that prompted him? The magazine? Was he boasting or trying to convert me? It just seemed kinda odd to me. But I guess some people like to wear their religion on there sleeve.He goes back to his garage and I go back to reading.
A short time later another Knox street neighbor walks over and says "boy you should of heard what Rush Limbaugh had to say the other day". I'm thinking "no I shouldn't". But he tells me anyway. It's all about how bad Obama is ,especially Michele Obama. He went on for quite awhile about how Obama is a terrible president and he also made more than a few racist remarks. I kept quiet as I try and keep the peace with everyone around here . This isn't always easy as most everyone around here is a Republican and I don't agree with most of there stances on things.
So it seems every time I'm out in the front of the house someone wants to come over and give me there two cents worth on a wide variety of topics whether I want to hear them or not. Now I'm guilty of the same thing by writing you with my opinions and stories of when I was younger. For me it's almost like therapy. Reminiscing of days gone by and pecking out my thoughts on things. Thanks for putting up with this as it gives me a small measure of joy to do this. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do creating it. I also hope I haven't bored you or offended anyone.
Take care, Bob the old guy that's lived on this street for what seems like forever
One day last summer, like so many others , I decided to sit outside in my folding chair. I gather up all my stuff, the portable radio, Mother Jones magazine, peanuts and a glass of wine. It's a beautiful day with the sun filtering through the trees . A light breeze, just enough to lightly ring the wind chimes. Birds and squirrels at the feeder, chirping and chattering.. The yard has been watered and everything is in various stages of blossoming.
So I get all set up, the radio tuned to NPR (national public radio) sitting on top of the stump next to my chair . Along side the radio I've got the nuts, my glass and my liberal magazine. Oh yeah , I'm in shorts, a Kucinich for president tank top and wearing my "I did not vote for Bush" bracelet on my wrist. A beautiful day in Liberal Land!
My neighbor across the street is working in his garage and walks on over. We exchange hellos and then he says " I'm a Christian, you know". I almost replied "I'm a Capricorn", but thought better of it. He went on to tell me of his moral values and such . I don't know why he was telling me this. Was it my shirt that prompted him? The magazine? Was he boasting or trying to convert me? It just seemed kinda odd to me. But I guess some people like to wear their religion on there sleeve.He goes back to his garage and I go back to reading.
A short time later another Knox street neighbor walks over and says "boy you should of heard what Rush Limbaugh had to say the other day". I'm thinking "no I shouldn't". But he tells me anyway. It's all about how bad Obama is ,especially Michele Obama. He went on for quite awhile about how Obama is a terrible president and he also made more than a few racist remarks. I kept quiet as I try and keep the peace with everyone around here . This isn't always easy as most everyone around here is a Republican and I don't agree with most of there stances on things.
So it seems every time I'm out in the front of the house someone wants to come over and give me there two cents worth on a wide variety of topics whether I want to hear them or not. Now I'm guilty of the same thing by writing you with my opinions and stories of when I was younger. For me it's almost like therapy. Reminiscing of days gone by and pecking out my thoughts on things. Thanks for putting up with this as it gives me a small measure of joy to do this. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do creating it. I also hope I haven't bored you or offended anyone.
Take care, Bob the old guy that's lived on this street for what seems like forever
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Sad
Well I knew it was only a matter of time. When I saw people bringing loaded guns to Tea Party rallies somebody would eventually take it to the next step and start killing people they don't agree with. The angry shouting at the town hall meetings, the signs upheld with threats of violence and a lot of people mad without really knowing what they're mad about.
The hate speech from Fox "News" as well as Limbaugh and others is partly responsible for this . They get people stirred up and then when something happens they plead innocence. I'm sure that's what will happen today, they'll condemn the killings and then call the gunman a loner
and a kook and they will wash the blood off their hands and start right back at it.
Sarah Palin has some answering to do as she put on her website a map with cross hairs on several locations around the country as being targeted. Names listed of politicians that voted for health care. One of those that was in the cross hairs was Congresswoman Gifford's who was shot in the back of the head yesterday along with several others in the crowd including a 9 year old girl that died as well as many others that were there to talk to there representative.
Those on the right will say that the Dem's and lefty liberals are guilty of the same tactics that they use. Not really. On the left you have people who are angry but you don't see them with guns at a public venue spewing hatred and threatening violence.
I believe in the right to free speech as well as the right to own a gun , but with those rights come responsibilities. Words have consequences and guns can be deadly.Both must handled with care and thoughtfulness. Several people on the public stage have said some really careless things involving guns. Sharon Angle when running against Harry Reid spoke of "Second ammendment remedies". Sarah Palin said "Don't retreat...reload", to name just a few.
My thoughts go out to the victims and their families. I hope this is a wake up call to those that promote violence to stop, but who knows maybe it will encourage them to continue.
Thats all for now. Take care, Bob
The hate speech from Fox "News" as well as Limbaugh and others is partly responsible for this . They get people stirred up and then when something happens they plead innocence. I'm sure that's what will happen today, they'll condemn the killings and then call the gunman a loner
and a kook and they will wash the blood off their hands and start right back at it.
Sarah Palin has some answering to do as she put on her website a map with cross hairs on several locations around the country as being targeted. Names listed of politicians that voted for health care. One of those that was in the cross hairs was Congresswoman Gifford's who was shot in the back of the head yesterday along with several others in the crowd including a 9 year old girl that died as well as many others that were there to talk to there representative.
Those on the right will say that the Dem's and lefty liberals are guilty of the same tactics that they use. Not really. On the left you have people who are angry but you don't see them with guns at a public venue spewing hatred and threatening violence.
I believe in the right to free speech as well as the right to own a gun , but with those rights come responsibilities. Words have consequences and guns can be deadly.Both must handled with care and thoughtfulness. Several people on the public stage have said some really careless things involving guns. Sharon Angle when running against Harry Reid spoke of "Second ammendment remedies". Sarah Palin said "Don't retreat...reload", to name just a few.
My thoughts go out to the victims and their families. I hope this is a wake up call to those that promote violence to stop, but who knows maybe it will encourage them to continue.
Thats all for now. Take care, Bob
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