tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167781462024-03-15T18:11:19.955-07:00The Thomas FilesRamblings of an old guy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-38481090458483925042024-03-14T12:14:00.001-07:002024-03-14T12:19:19.200-07:00Southwest Blind Rehab Center<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 26.62px; font-weight: bold; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Tucson </span><img src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1e5Tb6qDt-h6SygfxpOD8juDE4ZjPWhm6&export=download" width="300" height="300" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; transform: rotate(180deg);"></p><p class="p2" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; min-height: 21.5px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> 2024</span><br><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"></span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Two weeks following my decision to sign up for the next Blind Rehab in Tucson, Arizona, I found myself aboard an American Airlines jet bound for Arizona. As I wanted to be around home for the Christmas holidays and our 53rd Anniversary, I waited until about December 12 to contact my VIST Coordinator, Lori Reddick at the Fayetteville VA Hospital to make arrangements. Apparently, there were ample openings and she offered me the opportunity to be accepted in the Southwest Blind Rehab Center (SWBRC). It didn’t take them long to give me an interview call and take my application over the phone. A couple of days later, after their admissions committee met and checked my records, I received a phone call from the head o admissions that I had been accepted. We agreed on January 3rd as my admissions date.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> A few days following my entry approval, I received a phone call from Casey Davenport, who would be my Coordinator, Mobility Instructor and Manual Skills Instructor, 4that I had been accepted and everything was in order. He asked me about my goals for attending so I told him what I was hoping to do while I was a patient there. He emailed me a airlines confirmation number from American Airlines and gave me my travel arrangements. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> The holidays passed rather quickly and the travel day soon arrived. Debby took me to the airport in Bentonville, Arkansas, came inside and made certain I had my baggage checked to Tucson and my ticket in hand. We would be arriving in Tucson International in early afternoon via Dallas, Texas, where we would change planes. Luckily, our DFW departure gate was only 2 gates away from our arrival. All went smoothly.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> After landing in Tucson, I made my way to the baggage carousel by following the crowd of passengers flying with me. I found my colorful luggage and stood around for a few minutes waiting on someone to recognize me and give me a lift to the SWBRC. It didn’t take long before my driver showed up, apologizing for being late due to traffic.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> The SWBRC facility was barely 15 minutes away. I checked in and was shown to my room which would be my new home for the next month or so. A few minutes later a nurse came to visit me and asking medical questions about my general health and abilities to be responsible for my own medication. I was swabbed for covid 9, as well. After enough time had passed and they made certain I was covid free, I was shown around the facility to familiarize me with the locations of everything I needed, including my classrooms.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Dinner was at 5:00. All of us veterans gathered in the dining hall and walked through a chow line, sort of cafeteria style. There was little selection as they knew each veteran’s diet restrictions. As I had none, I was always offered the main dish, as well as substituting some items with their options. For instance, if the main dish sounded unappetizing, we could substitute for one of their optional dishes. Sometimes that was roast beef or grilled chicken. The food, however, was bland due to various diet restrictions. I had taken some Cavanaugh’s with me just in case there was nothing else offered, like salt and pepper. There was also a bottle of hot Cajun powder that a fellow veteran, Tim Bigelow brought from Louisiana and a bottle of hot stuff we could also use.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Each morning following breakfast, we received our daily schedule of classes, meetings or events that required our attendance, as well as optional outings that we might be interested in attending. Some of those outings included trips to places like the VFW, Elks Lodge or the American Legion for a freebie dinner. We had things like Taco Tuesday, Fish Friday or Hamburger Thursday. I went to all of them as offered. The food was always great and getting out and about was always fun.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Besides our scheduled classes, we were served hot meals at 0700, 1200 and 170. We had laundry room with two washer’s and two dryers. They seemed to be always busy with the 17 to 23 patients here. I was always up ant 0600 taking a long hot shower, getting dressed and feeding Toronto. He usually had his breakfast at 0620. I was usually out the door with Toronto by 0640 as he needed to go outside to the relief area. Then, back inside for my coffee before breakfast.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Following breakfast, I went to my room to take my medications. All of us were supposed to meet in the Foyer at 0800 to meet our Coordinator to get our schedule for the day. My first full week, however, was filled with non-classroom meetings. There were several of those during my first week! I met with my Team Leader and filled out questionnaires about my abilities and my goals. I had meetings with psychologists, social workers, vision specialists and optometrists. I met with the head nurse who asked questions like, do I feel like killing myself and stuff like that. As I didn’t, those meeting never lasted long. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Each morning everyone was getting our vitals checked at the Nurse’s Station. Each week we took a covid swab. There were no classes on weekends. Oftentimes, Saturday morning offered an off-campus field trip. We had trips like the Tucson Art Museum, Pima Air Museum and the Old Tucson Spanish Mission. I missed the Old Spanish Mission tour as I had been bowing to the porcelain throne half the night from something I ate, I suppose. So, I didn’t want to venture far away from my room that day. I was fine by the afternoon and ended up going out to dinner with some old friends.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Besides our regular class schedules, taught one-on-one, we had other events in group settings; some were mandatory to attend and some optional. The Meditation classes were weekly and optional. I found it was a great time to get in a quick nap and blame it on the relaxed atmosphere. We attended mandatory Fall Prevention classes. Those had to do with being careful and not getting hurt. Our Music Class was fun. A young lady came into the dining hall where we all sat around and joined her in singing songs. She showed us some musical instruments and explained how they work. She was pretty good and the experience was fun. We also met as a group with a couple of Social Workers in a group therapy session. We could talk about anything we wanted to except politics. They also reminded us that the conversations were confidential and we couldn’t make fun of anyone or talk about them outside of the class. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> During my stay, I was visited by an old friend, Jim Williams, who was a preacher for the Newberg Church of Christ years ago. He and his wife, Linda, were also caretakers at Camp Yamhill. As we often visited Camp Yamhill and I did some work there, we were well known by them. Linda passed away from this world a few months ago so seeing Jim once again was bitter sweet. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Another man, Ray Johnson, visited me one Saturday and ate lunch with me at the facility. Roadhouse BBQ had catered some Pulled pork and BBQ beef to us that day and they had plenty of feed Ray, as well. Ray was one of the original families that helped start the Metro Church of Christ congregation in the early 1970’s, along with Carl and Kathy Collins, who actually told Ray in was at the BRC. I had met Ray many years ago and it was good to see him and talk over old times.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Phil and Patty Amburn were friends from Emporia, Kansas. I knew Phil and his family in the early 1960’swhen they attended the Emporia Church of Christ where I went with my parents. They took me out for finer one evening and to their home for dinner on another. After my wife, Debby came to Tucson with Ron and Nancy Pinkerton on the 28th for a week, we had another occasion to go out with the Amburn’s for dinner. Seems like all I did was eat, doesn’t it?</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> Terry and Cathy Gilmore were another couple that Debby and I knew at the Metro Church of Christ. She was our go to secretary before retiring to Arizona. They picked me up one Sunday morning and took me to church with them. Afterwards, we went to a great Mexican Restaurant before going to the BRC. As one can see, I kept quite busy days and weekends.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> When Debby, Nancy and Ron arrived on Sunday, they picked me up and I spent the night at the Condo in Oro Valley. It was good to take a break and find a better pillow! I still had the week to go at the Rehab but after the Wildcat Team looked over my goals and records, they opted for me to graduate on Wednesday. My peeps showed up about 11:15. We loaded up my belongings into their rental car and we headed for the Silver Saddle Restaurant for a big juicy steak! As expected, it was very tasty!</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> I spent the next couple of days relaxing in the condo and checking out the hot tub. We went out to dinner on Thursday with Phil and Patty. They took us to a New Mexican style restaurant. It was very good and our visit was even better.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> We checked out of our condo on Saturday morning about 10:0 and headed towards the Tucson airport. Our flight wasn’t until about 5:00 but we had nothing else we wanted to do. It was nice to have a leisurely afternoon. Not long after our arrival, our travel nightmare began. First, it was a small flight delay of about 30 minutes. Then came another delay. Then another. And so, it continued. Before it was over, we had a dozen flight delays before finally getting to climb on board and find our seats. Then, the other delay. Next came an announcement that we needed to get off and wait for a replacement airplane as this one has been grounded due to mechanical problems. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> A few hours later, we once again boarded our flight to Denver, only to have another 20-minute delay. But this time, we actually taxied out and took off. The 90-minute flight got us to Denver about 1:30 AM. As there was no connecting flight to be had, United gave us a voucher to find a hotel. So, we did. Our connecting flight to Bentonville, Arkansas would not be until about 7:00 PM. United gave us a couple of $15 vouchers apiece for meals. There was one lone taxi outside. We grabbed him and took a ride to Aurora to find our La Quinta Motel.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> I was not adequately prepared for this delay. I had inadvertently checked my medication and Toronto’s dog food. I barely had enough for him for one meal, let along 3. I would have to do without mine but I needed to find a Petco on the way to the airport in the morning.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> We checked out of La Quinta about 10:00 after sampling their breakfast buffet and coffee bar. Nancy called for a Lyft. The driver showed up in good time but refused to allow Toronto inside his car. We exchanged a few words about his being a Guide Dog, the ADA and current Federal Law. The driver said he didn’t care about the law and drove away without us. I had taken a photo of our taxi last night so we called the number on the door in the photo. We only waited a few minutes before the driver showed up. We had him stop by Petco for some food and a new bowl for Toronto. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> We had a long time to wait for our flight but we were able to sit inside the United Airlines Lounge in much more comfy chairs. Not only that, but they had a tasty buffet set up along with snacks and drinks. I fed Toronto next to my chair. He soon curled up into a tight ball and fell asleep, occasionally stretching out his full length along the wall. He slept the whole time. We only had a 15-minute delay this time and we landed about 9:00. By the time we picked up our luggage and climbed into our Sienna that Eric brought for us, it was about 10:30 when we walked into our door. The normal 5 ½ hour trip had taken us about 36 hours. You’re in good hands with United!</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> So, weeks after Debby’s working with United Customer Service, UAL gave her $200 for our Denver Motel expense and two taxi rides. Our actual expense for that was over $200. They gave me $100 in future travel credit for my 36 hours of inconvenience. Thanks, United Airlines for a nice slap in the face!I wonder if they ever bothered to do anything for all the other passengers. I’m sure I know the answer to that question.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16.4px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-kerning: auto; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-feature-settings: normal; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-variation-settings: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16.38px;"> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-5385482034483238602013-12-17T13:51:00.001-08:002013-12-17T13:51:49.335-08:00The Christmas Snows<br />
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Christmas Snows</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I look back into my life as a child on the old farm, in my minds eye, I can see bits and pieces of our way of life. The old run-down log house with the extension on the front; the rusty looking tin roof over the kitchen. The old roof and washed out siding made the old place look....well, OLD! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The Arkansas winters had a beauty that's hard for a kid to describe. The soft, fluffy snows were the best I can remember. I loved the way they covered the deep grass in the pasture. It's like a huge fluffy blanket was carefully laid on top of the drooping grass and resembling small, fluffy clouds! I liked the way the snow fell from the sky on a calm, windless day. The large, fluffy snowflakes seemed to stick together with others as they slowly dropped from the sky. I loved the way the snow stacked up on the old fence posts, giving them a white top hat. Tree branches and bushes would droop down as it snowed, bending ever lower under the growing weight of winter's snow. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Without indoor plumbing, it was always hard to trudge through the fresh snow to the outhouse next to the barn and sit down on that cold, frosty seat! It didn't take us long to do our duty and get back o the house!</span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;" /></span>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We always had morning chores to do, no matter if it snowed, or not. The chickens, pigs and cows had to be fed and watered. We milked the cows before sending them out to pasture, or letting them lounge around inside the dry barn. The fresh snow around the barn was welcome because it covered up all the yuck and muck produced by the cows. It made great fertilizer but still was no fun to step in! The fresh blanket of snow covered the yucky mess and made you feel like you could walk on it! But we KNEW better!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A few days before Christmas, and after chores and a hot breakfast, we bundled up and went out searching for the perfect Christmas Tree, oftentimes in the snow. Our sister, Mary, would usually stay indoors with Mom, fixing goodies for us to eat; baking pies, cakes, cookies, fudge and peanut brittle and all kinds of stuff! Mary was 8 years older than me and I can't remember much interaction I had with her. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The three of us boys, Arnold, me and Pat, bundled up in boots, warm hats, mittens and coats, headed out on the 360 acres looking for a Cedar Tree, just right to set up in one corner of the living room. We usually knew where to go because we began scouting the land for a Christmas Tree long before Thanksgiving arrived!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Arnold was the older brother; 6 years older than me, and 8 years older than Pat! Charlie came along two years after Pat and accompanied us on tree excursions when he was 4 or 5. If the ground was snow covered,we would take turns dragging the tree back to the house. Sometimes it took two of us pulling together just to get it moving. </span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;" /></span>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We couldn't wait until Arnold cut some boards to make a cross and nail it to the bottom of the tree so it could stand upright in the corner. Mom would bring out decorations to trim the tree; colored lights, garland, foil icicles, shiny balls, an assortment of trinkets and a bright, shiny, silver star for the very top. </span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;" /></span>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Mom would pop corn to use for more garland. She would fix us up with a needle and long piece of thread to sew the popped popcorn together, making a garland that would later serve as a bird treat. We would hang it on the tree, drooping a little every few inches, as resembling heavy snows drooping Pine branches. At night, in the dark, with the colored lights on, our tree looked like something in a fairy tale book! It was always the perfect tree! </span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;" /></span>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On Christmas morning, very early, still dark outside, we came into the living room and saw the brightly lit Christmas Tree inviting us to come closer. Presents filled the floor beneath the tree; there were always hidden presents within the branches, some hard to find....but we managed! Leaning against one wall would be bags of Oranges and Apples. Sometimes, our Grandpa Hunter would send us a large toe sack full of English Walnuts from the farm he worked on in California. It would be leaning up against the wall, ready to sample! </span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;" /></span>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Mom and Dad slept in their bed in the other corner in the living room. We would carefully make enough noise in our mostly uncontrollable excitement to wake them up and tell them that Santa Claus had come! (As if they didn't know). We always checked to see if Santa had found the cookies and milk we left for On the table for him. Those Christmas years that we had completely forgotten to leave cookies and milk for him were the saddest times of all. We just KNEW that we were causing Santa Claus to starve!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;">What was my favorite ever Christmas present?? </span><span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;">The Red Ryder Daisy BB gun, of course!! </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">...by Mike Thomas</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-touch-callout: none;"> </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-17342646239562486452013-07-09T18:52:00.001-07:002022-01-20T08:08:53.557-08:00PLEASANT VIEW SCHOOL<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">I </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">loved Pleasant View School. </span><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">During my first 12-1/2 years of life many fond events will forever be burned into my memories. The many adventures on our old farm in Northwest Arkansas lie far behind me, only memories remain. </div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">My older brother, Arnold, used to be sweet on this little gal named Betty Cagle. I must say <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438);">that she was soft as cotton and very nice. She used to pass me love notes to take home to him. It happened a lot, but I didn't mind cause she would grab me and give me a big hug (for being the mailman I guess). </span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">My 5-6 grade teacher, Mrs Jenkins, was a shirt-tail cousin, although I didn't know it at the time. I'm sure she knew. I got straight "A's" in her class. I guess I was pretty smart back then. </div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">I was sweet on Sharon Lancaster. although she never knew it. I was way too shy for that to become known. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438);">I also liked Patricia Moon. She was fun to be around. She was very nice...and smart. I remember on one occasion when Karl Thorpe was chosen to be her escort at some event, I wished that it had been me escorting her! Sherry Maye. was nice. I liked her a lot, too. I doubt if she ever took notice of me. I won't even mention Wilma and Judy. I guess I just liked the girls! It helped that our school had so many nice ones!</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">I remember staying all night with Clifton Medlock one time. We thought we would have an evening of free time to do as we wished. I think we were going to go fishing. Next I knew, Clifton's dad had him working in the field! So much for fishing!</div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.492188);">I stayed overnight with my friend David one time, too. Breakfast came early at the Harrison's. Mrs Harrison had the largest spread of food I had ever seen! And it wasn't even daylight yet! I couldn't believe it! There were a bunch of us to feed. They must have had a big family! She made scrambled, boiled and fried eggs. There was bacon, sausage and ham. We had several large plates of home-made biscuits; 3 kinds of gravy and I can't even remember it all! I just knew I'd never seen that much food in somebody's home, ever!</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.492188);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.492188);">We loved playing marbles and throwing our Barlow knives playing Mumbly Peg and Spread Out. You won't see stuff like that in school today! It's not politically correct, proper nor safe. In fact, a kid can be expelled from school indefinitely for even having s knife at school. And I can't even talk about guns!</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.492188);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">Reminds me of the POGO cartoon comic strip where he comes up and reports, "We has seen the enemy, and they is us!"</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">I never felt like I was close friends with some of the cooler guys. Lee Powell, Dub Tilly and Don Trotter had their own little clique and I was never part of their group. But I did like them and we got along okay. </span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">Grade school was fun, though. We had sports to play, mostly baseball and basketball. I was never any good at the games but I liked playing. I was usually chosen last. That speaks for itself!</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">It was fun riding the school bus. It would always turn around at our house so we had plenty of time to run out and catch it. </span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">We were still a long way from school one day when fire started coming up around the gas pedal. The driver grabbed a Goldfish bowl from one of the kids bringing some Goldfish to school, for show and tell I guess. He poured some of it around where the pedal rod goes through the floor and got it put out. We still unloaded the bus and started walking. Didn't have cell phones in those days. So we had a long walk. The Goldfish saved the day and didn't even know it!</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">Paul Millsap was my best friend because he lived the closest to me there at White Rock, only about a mile away. We always played together in the summertime. Our family moved away to Kansas after I finished 8th grade and life as I knew it ceased to exist. </span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">I wonder what ever happened to all of them? I hated having to move away. I will always think of those days and my Arkansas friends with fond memories and longing....and, occasionally, just to remember, the good old days. </span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);">Mike Thomas</span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8yqra-Ff1G7ZWnG0X61z78vdM94GxfSaplc7JX80WcqgMQjkHJVy0tW3_HMQeYLkIOtvfakxkwssKscwBoyt0SPg33R-suUWb_8lXFjok35VlOCAx9JjrdEngDXyrlnAN_oT/s640/blogger-image--1533505437.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8yqra-Ff1G7ZWnG0X61z78vdM94GxfSaplc7JX80WcqgMQjkHJVy0tW3_HMQeYLkIOtvfakxkwssKscwBoyt0SPg33R-suUWb_8lXFjok35VlOCAx9JjrdEngDXyrlnAN_oT/w591-h434/blogger-image--1533505437.jpg" width="591" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.480469);"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-86013124989360278502012-12-12T20:35:00.001-08:002012-12-12T20:35:23.275-08:00COLORADOCOLORADO<br />
<br />
HEADING HOME! We drove away from Branson, MO early Tuesday morning and headed West. We spent the night in Colby. KS. It was 21 degrees this morning when we headed for Colorado Springs. <br />
<br />
Flat Stanley wanted to visit the headquarters of FOCUS ON THE FAMILY. There was still snow on the ground but the temperature had warmed to 42 degrees and felt much better than the early morning chill I had while filling my gas tank in Colby, Kansas!<br />
<br />
We took a brief self-guided tour of the Bookstore building. It is a very intriguing place for kids. The Adventures in Odyssey exhibit is awesome! This would be a great place to bring the kids. The little ones we saw there were having the time of their lives! A kid could spend hours in there having fun!<br />
<br />
Following lunch we headed out to GARDEN OF THE GODS, a City Park on the edge of town. It's a beautiful area of interesting red rock formations created eons ago and slowly, through an erosion process, created the awesome formations we see today. The park is used by joggers, hikers and horse-back riders. The one-way road allows self guided car tours with turn-outs, viewpoints and photo ops. I give it two thumbs up!<br />
<br />
We decided to try to get past Denver before the heart of rush hour began. But much like Portland, I think rush hour started around 1:30 PM! It was stop and go occasionally but not as bad as could have been a couple of hours later! The 3 or 4 car pile up on the Expressway at exit 181 blocked traffic for a while, until the wreckers showed up and the PoPo's redirected traffic off the freeway and merged them back on at the 181 entrance on the other side. I needed to get off and refuel anyway. <br />
<br />
This evening we stopped in Fort Collins, CO for the night. We had dinner at Famous Dave's before coming back to the Hilton. Tomorrow we head on towards Wyoming, Utah, and Idaho. We have been most fortunate that bad weather has been ahead of us or behind us this entire trip! <br />
<br />
God is good! <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uZrBSh9QggrU8V94OH4f1HVF34n6rtHweS_Bc_KQNTQdz66pPpJTe_gRBUUrvI_KGyFwFvDpGpTrVQy_PAGTrqh23iPrwiIc63PYEFEF58pDU4FzYehRfNg5IQDBS8LUuz_k/s640/blogger-image-594079667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uZrBSh9QggrU8V94OH4f1HVF34n6rtHweS_Bc_KQNTQdz66pPpJTe_gRBUUrvI_KGyFwFvDpGpTrVQy_PAGTrqh23iPrwiIc63PYEFEF58pDU4FzYehRfNg5IQDBS8LUuz_k/s640/blogger-image-594079667.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9xWv30hq8AXNkm_Zq5db1ytan_IWP0sQJVoGHLLNRb0J-Kh66i_JmGJdOF2A7Vc8q9r8IvH-Cz0QuhSDX-0H_zY8ABNM3lzH17C2og5EreREMHGNyjmzE7yNz_AXdy0l-2lY/s640/blogger-image-1613600639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9xWv30hq8AXNkm_Zq5db1ytan_IWP0sQJVoGHLLNRb0J-Kh66i_JmGJdOF2A7Vc8q9r8IvH-Cz0QuhSDX-0H_zY8ABNM3lzH17C2og5EreREMHGNyjmzE7yNz_AXdy0l-2lY/s640/blogger-image-1613600639.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; 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1940 - 2012<br />
<br />
When I was a kid coming to Town with my Dad to sell or trade produce, or maybe get a store bought haircut at Gene and Shorty's Barber Shop, the town of Mulberry, Arkansas seemed like a busy city to a small country boy of 5 or 6. I can't recall parking being a problem but it was much busier than our 360-acre farm about 20 miles away. <br />
<br />
The street scene changed a little over the years. There were few changes to storefronts but the parked cars slowly became more early 50's than the 1940's vintage seen in the photograph. Many, like Dad's, were old pickup's with cattle racks on the back. I remember the big store on the right side of the unmarked street was a Five and Dime. We never had a dime but that didn't stop us from going inside and looking at all the neat toys and stuff! <br />
<br />
The building on the left side was our Bank, though I doubt Dad and Mom ever had much in it! We always enjoyed seeing the Cowboy roam the street, when we came to town. Seems like he was always there walking in and out of every store, greeting employees and customers like they were old friends. He was dressed up like Roy Rogers; a white Stetson hat on his head, button up long sleeved western shirt with a bandana tied around his neck, jeans and flashy cowboy boots with Spurs on the heels. To complete the Cowboy look he wore a kid's Gun and Holster outfit with twin Six-Shooters and fake bullets attached to the belt, ready to be used if make-believe bandits came to town. He might have worn a Sheriff's star; I can't be sure. But he was, in his own mind, a town hero who looked out for others and kept the peace. <br />
<br />
I don't know how old he was. As a little kid during those days, I "looked up" at most everyone, but he was a man, probably around 25 or 30 years old, in a physical sense. But mentally he was still a kid who played "Cowboys and Indians" like we did. <br />
<br />
Today, 2012, about 65 years later, the streets of Mulberry are virtually vacant. To snap this street scene, I stand in the middle of the street, inside the unmarked "Round-a-bout" people once used to be able to turn around in, to park on the other side of the street. Stores have closed and deteriorated. Gene and Shorty have passed on and the Barber Shop has closed. The Cowboy is gone; only his image and memory remains in the minds of those who met him. <br />
<br />
As I reflect upon all of this, it amazes me how quickly a city can turn from booming to bombing. Although more people now live in Mulberry than ever before, the stores remain vacant. With the building of Interstate Highway 40, people can live farther away from work, yet still be only a short time away from shopping and jobs in other cities. <br />
<br />
.....just noticing how things change and remembering,<br />
The Good 'Ol Days. <br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuh8nDQch912yVlNjFDLTOmLkWQ0Eum9xrmNZuvPFemdKHB0o6GJT3DSs8DxyZ8awKHax0zOFJpKbrPlzV3FAihGmFuEFfmckRDPjjnmxiQYbdO-F05QpZa4gdRon6Tolc3Cl/s640/blogger-image--1694005210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuh8nDQch912yVlNjFDLTOmLkWQ0Eum9xrmNZuvPFemdKHB0o6GJT3DSs8DxyZ8awKHax0zOFJpKbrPlzV3FAihGmFuEFfmckRDPjjnmxiQYbdO-F05QpZa4gdRon6Tolc3Cl/s640/blogger-image--1694005210.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3OrVtgLjp9GILLpvOMytsqmQDnwss74_aAwcG2kg_ujeP0KQ1I2c2PuB0_EbU3EExHCiawoHIXc-f5ePiIdlmo1Y20dw0skTOBW1PrGGI8eWJMgcdJXel-W4VEhsK8mYbelL/s640/blogger-image-1301092552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3OrVtgLjp9GILLpvOMytsqmQDnwss74_aAwcG2kg_ujeP0KQ1I2c2PuB0_EbU3EExHCiawoHIXc-f5ePiIdlmo1Y20dw0skTOBW1PrGGI8eWJMgcdJXel-W4VEhsK8mYbelL/s640/blogger-image-1301092552.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhld4z12Ln_aw7i3p9Le-fDuB2WGsKKBWMVl9F39TJX7Nz-fwVVvj2PaW8NVOES5ru1rwNoD-xNmymC2qKVGu5dPnAtYr3XJHCxGzyIMBT69IhHJ_JCNA_0a6NTHuYx8yngMvh/s640/blogger-image-1918524750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhld4z12Ln_aw7i3p9Le-fDuB2WGsKKBWMVl9F39TJX7Nz-fwVVvj2PaW8NVOES5ru1rwNoD-xNmymC2qKVGu5dPnAtYr3XJHCxGzyIMBT69IhHJ_JCNA_0a6NTHuYx8yngMvh/s640/blogger-image-1918524750.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-28035833006014758272012-02-04T20:12:00.000-08:002024-03-14T12:21:58.079-07:00Retirement CLOSING IN ON RETIREMENT<br />
<br />
Having turned 65 already, I have been considering retirement. <br />
Although I will miss my routine of getting up early and going to work, I believe I will quickly set that aside and focus on the next level of my life.<br />
<br />
I am making plans to retire in 4 weeks. At that time I will undertake several things I have been putting off too long. I have computer work I wish to "polish" by sorting pictures, writing documents and organizing my files. I have plans to do some long needed work around the house. Things have been neglected and need to be spruced up a bit; both inside and out! My garage is a mess! I will be hauling away un-needed junk that I thought I needed at the time I acquired it. I have some things to sell; others to give away. <br />
<br />
I have volunteer work I want to do. I have a Great GrandDaughter I want to spend time with and get better acquainted; perhaps a couple of Great GrandSons, too; time permitting.<br />
<br />
I have much hiking to do to get my body in shape for a month long backpacking trip in the Northern Cascades along the Pacific Crest Trail in August. I have to plan the trip to mesh with the Wilderness Trek for our Metro Teens. My August trip will be awesome! I hope to be able to do about 100 miles along the PCT, including side trips, taking hundreds of photographs and soaking in amazing scenery! This is important to me as I may be nearly blind in a few years from Macular Degeneration. It's uncertain as to how long I will have my vision, but as long as I have it, I want to use it as much as I can. What better place than the Mountains of northern Washington?<br />
<br />
I suppose there are uncertainties in life; we cannot always prepare for what may come. I believe we must do what we can, however, to experience what we can in the time God allocated for us. I appreciate the health I do have. I hate the thought of growing old and feeble and ending up in a Nursing Home unable to care for myself. The though of that does not appeal to me at all.<br />
<br />
But for now, I am excited to be working my final month before retirement. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-19458974379849428862011-08-09T12:11:00.000-07:002024-03-14T12:25:04.190-07:00Goat Rocks in July This was my first backpacking trip this year. Brian and I took Bob and his son, Zach, to the Goat Rocks Wilderness for the weekend. Had a great trip. The snow was much higher than we anticipated but we had no trouble finding our destination, as I had camped there several years now. The trip honed my back country (trail-less) experience. We followed map and compass for this trip. The night was VERY COLD! We had a nice campsite and a warm fire with plenty of dried wood.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I've always wanted to see Goat Rocks in the Winter. I guess this is the next best thing. The winter terrain would have 12 feet of soft snow on it. At least this way we can walk on top of the snow without sinking in! To me, this day was a highlight in my entire backpacking experience!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Enjoy the pictures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ors_K-h1CeffcbbIVdkz-H1BzHUigrJ_kf2mKa2HPBuDWBx77XPhaax1Glx01gAJhysitCXewty3CsbN0PtrYxNo5yShFpPm30X1g8cDuYKxmQaYT2noQPeuwfIDSY85Mz0E/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ors_K-h1CeffcbbIVdkz-H1BzHUigrJ_kf2mKa2HPBuDWBx77XPhaax1Glx01gAJhysitCXewty3CsbN0PtrYxNo5yShFpPm30X1g8cDuYKxmQaYT2noQPeuwfIDSY85Mz0E/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Mosquitoes .... had to bundle up!</div></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoPUj5PTRu0c_nKTF1cP4lT83BWJcypn9GufMwGOEPBS-R0VEYYnrgSmY9YtCn5Bfr-l74Ne9hcp3lg7V0S7L4LV6dOznC6mNDWvq9gbS8_NqhH-GM6J8Xp8eVEA4EaCqRCGY/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoPUj5PTRu0c_nKTF1cP4lT83BWJcypn9GufMwGOEPBS-R0VEYYnrgSmY9YtCn5Bfr-l74Ne9hcp3lg7V0S7L4LV6dOznC6mNDWvq9gbS8_NqhH-GM6J8Xp8eVEA4EaCqRCGY/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+009.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge over Goat Creek</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRW0mYCQb49uFbbWZqZ7iM7x6QauSbGVReK56pU5Bu8D4WgeK7XGnDTycbNFgqH32r8LgJ2AwXR8nleQ_auQcqiavOuMeqY0E26uhXMf18qBR9yL79EFxYYejVTfm1WDKZ0_C/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRW0mYCQb49uFbbWZqZ7iM7x6QauSbGVReK56pU5Bu8D4WgeK7XGnDTycbNFgqH32r8LgJ2AwXR8nleQ_auQcqiavOuMeqY0E26uhXMf18qBR9yL79EFxYYejVTfm1WDKZ0_C/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+014.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skunk Cabbage in bloom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ggFEjsELFv8/TjHcT8bl0GI/AAAAAAAAA7c/TsMrFFQtXwM/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ggFEjsELFv8/TjHcT8bl0GI/AAAAAAAAA7c/TsMrFFQtXwM/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+017.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a bunch of these to cross!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Oz_aRkljWI/TjHcU-o6GDI/AAAAAAAAA7k/31RQPJ092O8/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Oz_aRkljWI/TjHcU-o6GDI/AAAAAAAAA7k/31RQPJ092O8/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+019.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solid snow on the trail in about 1/2 mile from the bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfafV-5Kvyg/TjHcWuml8rI/AAAAAAAAA7o/qmrifuzP7kQ/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfafV-5Kvyg/TjHcWuml8rI/AAAAAAAAA7o/qmrifuzP7kQ/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+020.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had chains for my boots! Very handy!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6OSvG-0lnYM/TjHcXiKagtI/AAAAAAAAA7s/DbR78ln8XLY/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6OSvG-0lnYM/TjHcXiKagtI/AAAAAAAAA7s/DbR78ln8XLY/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After 4 miles we found the Lily Basin trail marker at Snowgrass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7Yjn5XK7zADaw5NvqwAc0khlc-7m9_z4LD1R0mGbx5fkg4PU7yIEUaHNhv9rXynSdfkaJcvMEDfQ1cF2oi6RcGk6ScYKQ37XgpJGESIz0nts_AxxHNr-ZdoM9kcUuqNI7Nba/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7Yjn5XK7zADaw5NvqwAc0khlc-7m9_z4LD1R0mGbx5fkg4PU7yIEUaHNhv9rXynSdfkaJcvMEDfQ1cF2oi6RcGk6ScYKQ37XgpJGESIz0nts_AxxHNr-ZdoM9kcUuqNI7Nba/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+024.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach & Bob clowning around in the deep snow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliWAn5tMdBJ7X2BilrJ_hRQLBWS7v0I_D_SjGjlriXXqpKxk54ptD7Dmkh61rs-25pDawZ85ZpTEkp3G7PgCzSZaer1IVLpG3gL_pOXalcvzCcqFQqu8yBNB1j3-diX0O1p0c/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliWAn5tMdBJ7X2BilrJ_hRQLBWS7v0I_D_SjGjlriXXqpKxk54ptD7Dmkh61rs-25pDawZ85ZpTEkp3G7PgCzSZaer1IVLpG3gL_pOXalcvzCcqFQqu8yBNB1j3-diX0O1p0c/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+027.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found a clear spot on a bluff where we made camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdBh9nsen4NytS2bayCqgh6XcKn0UE3qDRF2E2eUdvWJLbB_TcEm0GNCzRudD37SZDLhFR69uECaBAqx3CL2dF39dxIQtGBVzM802JGnITCf0Ixm5tbY__FsRjFDqJxkkeXIz/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdBh9nsen4NytS2bayCqgh6XcKn0UE3qDRF2E2eUdvWJLbB_TcEm0GNCzRudD37SZDLhFR69uECaBAqx3CL2dF39dxIQtGBVzM802JGnITCf0Ixm5tbY__FsRjFDqJxkkeXIz/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+028.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new Rainshadow II tent.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tG0i682ybSc/TjHcZ1ry-MI/AAAAAAAAA78/fXfVJIbOaTs/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tG0i682ybSc/TjHcZ1ry-MI/AAAAAAAAA78/fXfVJIbOaTs/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+029.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice campfire ring by Bob's tent but lots of snow close by.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq9OUTxOM3SEv7mRH-ENhC6zyoL9NxJ7mnoTskgHA4_0YWp2vRshhksbD80cIiSmD2bIqtzUVjiya7f5MrrZANOscZvF9yfTC5fcs5k3jaXZH-zsQUUpGetugFpqZVIOs3kHK/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq9OUTxOM3SEv7mRH-ENhC6zyoL9NxJ7mnoTskgHA4_0YWp2vRshhksbD80cIiSmD2bIqtzUVjiya7f5MrrZANOscZvF9yfTC5fcs5k3jaXZH-zsQUUpGetugFpqZVIOs3kHK/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a warm fire on a cold day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmuF-aYV8Aescbf-Qk0GNw0Rc7mIqjB6RdaIl21YFYX0o4xNAbIeI4NXWI-mh5dnW3XjoJQXwnn1wlxxCoknGC_3lZPOoZ89DjSrt6ZgWtwM9-czXKWi2Vps1Ey8yfIScgh1I/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmuF-aYV8Aescbf-Qk0GNw0Rc7mIqjB6RdaIl21YFYX0o4xNAbIeI4NXWI-mh5dnW3XjoJQXwnn1wlxxCoknGC_3lZPOoZ89DjSrt6ZgWtwM9-czXKWi2Vps1Ey8yfIScgh1I/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We melted snow for drinking water.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev7mJXm32_X0SAu_AwsXHQRwaHBYyqsafhPJv-c12z67HlGXcjNgzOvF8sr3h-KUDk1teZKnRT0ry6we1_ThRomdaL1fnw_btxEYpIBV3TXJgkTJsVd8_DSgU4ezVIs5QBxsK/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev7mJXm32_X0SAu_AwsXHQRwaHBYyqsafhPJv-c12z67HlGXcjNgzOvF8sr3h-KUDk1teZKnRT0ry6we1_ThRomdaL1fnw_btxEYpIBV3TXJgkTJsVd8_DSgU4ezVIs5QBxsK/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+032.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I cooked up a nice, big skillet of Fajitas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSGUgehb_bY/TjHccgasnvI/AAAAAAAAA8M/zMFi097eg4w/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSGUgehb_bY/TjHccgasnvI/AAAAAAAAA8M/zMFi097eg4w/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My steak fajitas were a big hit!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUOGBdAlD_2CnF3tmw_STTIxMiJ-s9VvPalASLUbH6tz1NvgCNw-laQLtaidAnKpUNUZBeGZumH2mF32oqadnIZbjHvdeOodSUEgoLIChHn1HQoZaEravzQ5hT4lOaRU2orF7/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUOGBdAlD_2CnF3tmw_STTIxMiJ-s9VvPalASLUbH6tz1NvgCNw-laQLtaidAnKpUNUZBeGZumH2mF32oqadnIZbjHvdeOodSUEgoLIChHn1HQoZaEravzQ5hT4lOaRU2orF7/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+036.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning campfire with plenty of dry wood!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBAbM7xZyWxiRhOGzjopC7a-uNLQZ6nqMVjPYjdzzN67sfUhx8RxpGGVZBqt6KkPB1EX0Fjm4BbShd9_3Meo9ZgJc5nsgBUUYsOIzxYtNnwONrQIoF4RogDkpV-UBw6halEiR/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBAbM7xZyWxiRhOGzjopC7a-uNLQZ6nqMVjPYjdzzN67sfUhx8RxpGGVZBqt6KkPB1EX0Fjm4BbShd9_3Meo9ZgJc5nsgBUUYsOIzxYtNnwONrQIoF4RogDkpV-UBw6halEiR/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+037.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes....I was sitting there warming my feet!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BXB4rBrkwy8/TjHcf_E4jVI/AAAAAAAAA8g/b87Sj8phLns/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BXB4rBrkwy8/TjHcf_E4jVI/AAAAAAAAA8g/b87Sj8phLns/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+039.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Hawkeye Point off to my left.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DSfg5KUyPOI/TjHcgsiT01I/AAAAAAAAA8k/peUQl3bjgxs/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DSfg5KUyPOI/TjHcgsiT01I/AAAAAAAAA8k/peUQl3bjgxs/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+040.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking uphill towards the Old Snowy ridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctySHOaNqrxklqFFnvoPRS5iTLodk1qVpLBndZCLbGOdmGerofn9TYEzCpd2koc-48fVUa93CqYO9eSnwAp0cnvevvp43VGWMTom0PsfIUHj8KYnK3WKDpB9wpyTdzUipnuzP/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctySHOaNqrxklqFFnvoPRS5iTLodk1qVpLBndZCLbGOdmGerofn9TYEzCpd2koc-48fVUa93CqYO9eSnwAp0cnvevvp43VGWMTom0PsfIUHj8KYnK3WKDpB9wpyTdzUipnuzP/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+042.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally able to tighten up my tent after the nights wind and rain.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2f3mDihrRlBigVVmyn1piXU-x6nWHMNqsBrOZTfuiDq8QtcK_YN1BYvZ85KccK4EchQNSzt0E68Jh-BXu_U6XDhJWZo4Y8fhnrLBgcHXP7JijJw9robFTO4Sp2gi3zrb0GuX/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2f3mDihrRlBigVVmyn1piXU-x6nWHMNqsBrOZTfuiDq8QtcK_YN1BYvZ85KccK4EchQNSzt0E68Jh-BXu_U6XDhJWZo4Y8fhnrLBgcHXP7JijJw9robFTO4Sp2gi3zrb0GuX/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+047.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiked up to the PCT near Old Snowy. Looking at Mt Adams</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjt_agwTYnAC2_cSLx7L0C5lMnellzOaQJHHEDGyDPHu-3zcN2lveOKbVM-oWnDhk0jnAhlSgFNXFPqzySEHw5FttFR42F20dg6UugCe1FQea6gzOIRmxmbF9xdrPMWcBqLhI/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjt_agwTYnAC2_cSLx7L0C5lMnellzOaQJHHEDGyDPHu-3zcN2lveOKbVM-oWnDhk0jnAhlSgFNXFPqzySEHw5FttFR42F20dg6UugCe1FQea6gzOIRmxmbF9xdrPMWcBqLhI/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+048.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We camped in those trees once upon a time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxvkHnAYcWY/TjHcl1t-HEI/AAAAAAAAA9A/tuYvfFqiYlg/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxvkHnAYcWY/TjHcl1t-HEI/AAAAAAAAA9A/tuYvfFqiYlg/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+049.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing on top of 6 to 8 feet of snow up here!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFh3Ym7wfjZPkTFGMgDVu1-2fFjIb8t9MrSYl8z-6_lZG0odGZ0Ukxu6wgmFUfyXqhXIQDo9CYgS4GemmFi3LT67FMn2-qjZjFvAoZ_3ch057BGfy9nrlD5sSeqi6Y3V-rc_z/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFh3Ym7wfjZPkTFGMgDVu1-2fFjIb8t9MrSYl8z-6_lZG0odGZ0Ukxu6wgmFUfyXqhXIQDo9CYgS4GemmFi3LT67FMn2-qjZjFvAoZ_3ch057BGfy9nrlD5sSeqi6Y3V-rc_z/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+050.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian looking over at Ives Peak.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1Y2znPjhxHLyvHcGAVeJDaxCjXBGYx0aJfXIV4SCenfzW3QewmjPxQ2HhOoflS47YojFNhepFXotiw_v0NwT7JErvfmmn0NkTS5OyHqKeE7_cEnsQ15Zb6qv1NnzPt-TVgBW/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1Y2znPjhxHLyvHcGAVeJDaxCjXBGYx0aJfXIV4SCenfzW3QewmjPxQ2HhOoflS47YojFNhepFXotiw_v0NwT7JErvfmmn0NkTS5OyHqKeE7_cEnsQ15Zb6qv1NnzPt-TVgBW/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+051.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">......towards Cispus Pass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dpdIDysu3u4/TjHcoBZGNQI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/sh_ouQ3cDj8/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dpdIDysu3u4/TjHcoBZGNQI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/sh_ouQ3cDj8/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+053.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach looking over towards Goat Lake under snow.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBdstlOkQFE/TjHcoiF19JI/AAAAAAAAA9U/uAVRuZjMJmw/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBdstlOkQFE/TjHcoiF19JI/AAAAAAAAA9U/uAVRuZjMJmw/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+054.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We camped on that ridge last year.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sQEnCW9KOck/TjHcp0H_IRI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/_JP523KOxmU/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sQEnCW9KOck/TjHcp0H_IRI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/_JP523KOxmU/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+055.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawkeye Point above Goat Lake where we hiked last year.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E8ESzuHb430/TjHcro_1Q8I/AAAAAAAAA9k/XLDtLFwge-o/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E8ESzuHb430/TjHcro_1Q8I/AAAAAAAAA9k/XLDtLFwge-o/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+058.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ives Peak</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r6cNQhHeYUw/TjHcsQBQCsI/AAAAAAAAA9o/O5rvQJg9cYU/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r6cNQhHeYUw/TjHcsQBQCsI/AAAAAAAAA9o/O5rvQJg9cYU/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+059.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlyS8_mVsWg/TjHcuTnW7GI/AAAAAAAAA90/YmYV7ziC0cU/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlyS8_mVsWg/TjHcuTnW7GI/AAAAAAAAA90/YmYV7ziC0cU/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+063.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South towards Mt. Adams.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zOfRItqhu_I/TjHcv-C3y8I/AAAAAAAAA98/iCNCjpGlNG8/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zOfRItqhu_I/TjHcv-C3y8I/AAAAAAAAA98/iCNCjpGlNG8/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+064.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Adams view.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMmDD5FC2-jANx4wXQ_ddznyC1P4WEW9fkmMeuyuPe3jCqgmPHPldNSD-iVB_jkf2xEI77IEdit9tYbtzLj7O2p_I5jsqzodiucWfcIcbBockFmLkcIh3GlC1v-mwlc68AErY/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMmDD5FC2-jANx4wXQ_ddznyC1P4WEW9fkmMeuyuPe3jCqgmPHPldNSD-iVB_jkf2xEI77IEdit9tYbtzLj7O2p_I5jsqzodiucWfcIcbBockFmLkcIh3GlC1v-mwlc68AErY/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+067.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt St. Helens behind the trees.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Zkxec4xgJhQlrk4poe9_wR0kw1OWDxyQQ6fjFvuiZDRNZ-11uE-hXqTroWMyGOfzAYD0O1FKklQkZ6-2-dckHgOTCLIerLjoFheENPffPQToCBS-qAvODtBbU3wLu1M-TEuG/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Zkxec4xgJhQlrk4poe9_wR0kw1OWDxyQQ6fjFvuiZDRNZ-11uE-hXqTroWMyGOfzAYD0O1FKklQkZ6-2-dckHgOTCLIerLjoFheENPffPQToCBS-qAvODtBbU3wLu1M-TEuG/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+068.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nKyWe0SeiCc/TjHcy16xH8I/AAAAAAAAA-Q/sDaKyzeOqss/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nKyWe0SeiCc/TjHcy16xH8I/AAAAAAAAA-Q/sDaKyzeOqss/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+069.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian enjoying the day. So was I.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BWuuWYTfxNE/TjHc0rOpZcI/AAAAAAAAA-U/-iJKYloZRmQ/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BWuuWYTfxNE/TjHc0rOpZcI/AAAAAAAAA-U/-iJKYloZRmQ/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+071.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I always wanted to see The Goat Rocks in Winter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n3TLgOFxrOM/TjHc2q-2h2I/AAAAAAAAA-g/a7uPyIARxnA/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n3TLgOFxrOM/TjHc2q-2h2I/AAAAAAAAA-g/a7uPyIARxnA/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+073.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you believe it's JULY??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCip-pyy3W33w9z1uJFQmpkyeBum984Q-hnawEoD-pdtbwDj9NnZ3fHhoWMzQVBMzKh4RiQMe7lIvxS5VqLpyYqgePT_wvWfTu4JIbIsw8FXHPtqaTcEqZpnRpcBbA4RHgfUt-/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCip-pyy3W33w9z1uJFQmpkyeBum984Q-hnawEoD-pdtbwDj9NnZ3fHhoWMzQVBMzKh4RiQMe7lIvxS5VqLpyYqgePT_wvWfTu4JIbIsw8FXHPtqaTcEqZpnRpcBbA4RHgfUt-/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+074.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a great day today!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Adams was majestic!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We did a lot of cross country hiking today.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toQgR6ge0vc/TjHc9iP_4LI/AAAAAAAAA_M/w2o8f1gVE7k/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toQgR6ge0vc/TjHc9iP_4LI/AAAAAAAAA_M/w2o8f1gVE7k/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+086.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who knows where the trail is anyway??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduOzcFd8TOzAFOreIM9qFQgejE7V83VLflYSOaMcMJNUYgXeSJChIkHP1NQE_cq8omqqKllaJKsGxp2-M8YIEh6QgnY1FWJDsg9MogLgBg9YZ37myAFIV7vBrduplw_tolqZs/s1600/Goat+Rocks+072211+113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduOzcFd8TOzAFOreIM9qFQgejE7V83VLflYSOaMcMJNUYgXeSJChIkHP1NQE_cq8omqqKllaJKsGxp2-M8YIEh6QgnY1FWJDsg9MogLgBg9YZ37myAFIV7vBrduplw_tolqZs/s320/Goat+Rocks+072211+113.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading home after cross country backpacking on mostly snowfields.</td></tr>
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</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-75543986493723153942011-05-06T07:02:00.000-07:002024-03-14T12:25:56.802-07:00Mulberries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSKCW4PBzzavjtFsI_F6bvTYjvRpWbb04BqCqLXBOQcTN8BoyC9CTt_0onxlyigGa4a2Vrd40VMRfaoG9aks6KqnWXrtn-SxHCpBQMa1l8mq6hB8CA0lX3PPGZ7_Tyq5cxL_w/s1600/The+Fruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSKCW4PBzzavjtFsI_F6bvTYjvRpWbb04BqCqLXBOQcTN8BoyC9CTt_0onxlyigGa4a2Vrd40VMRfaoG9aks6KqnWXrtn-SxHCpBQMa1l8mq6hB8CA0lX3PPGZ7_Tyq5cxL_w/s320/The+Fruit.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">The</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> Mul</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">berry</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Tree</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">….</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b>grew like no other fruit tree we ever knew.</b> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Growing up in NW Arkansas there were plenty of trees to climb on a 360 acre farm. However, no tree was more fascinating than the huge Mulberry tree that grew on the old Likens homestead about ¼ mile from our house. As I recall (of course being a kid, EVERYTHING looked much bigger than it really was), the tree trunk couldn’t be reached around by two of us. The first limb was about the size of a 5 gallon bucket; started low to the ground and grew almost horizontal. There were many other limbs of varying sizes on which we could climb. It was a very large and very old, tree. We always went “shoe-less” in the summertime, so climbing trees was much more fun when you could feel the bark on your feet. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The best part of tree climbing, as I can remember, was feeling like I was “king of the world”. Standing on a limb, high in a tree, one felt like he was bigger than life! My brother, Pat, and I climbed any tree we could get a hold of; any kind and any height. The only thing that held us back from climbing the ancient Black Walnut trees that grew in our front yard was their sheer size! The trunks were large and rough. The lower limbs started 10 or 12 feet above the ground. Not having an extension ladder to assist us, we were content with climbing Oak, Elm, Pine, Persimmon and Mulberry trees, or anything else we could wrap our arms around and dig our toes into.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The favorite trees, whenever we felt like a sweet, tart snack, were the Mulberry and Persimmon. Persimmons demanded respect and one had to sneak up on them. It only takes once to bite into a not-yet-ripe Persimmon to get your attention! It is the most tart, mouth-shriveling experience you could ask for! Our Granny always said, “Don’t eat ‘em ‘til after the first frost”! The cold temperatures, down to the point of making ice, tend to ripen the Persimmons into a very sweet fruit snack. Now you know.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We enjoyed the succulent fruit of the Wild Plum and Wild Muskedines, as well. The Plums grew on bushes so we didn’t have to climb them to reach the fruit. However, the Wild Muskedine was different. It is related to the Grape family and grows on a climbing vine that uses trees as support. The best Muskedines were always at the top of the vine. Imagine that! The fruit was a bit larger than a grape with a much thicker and tougher skin that was fun to chew because it was so tart! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The favorite tree for me was the Mulberry. It produced fruit in plenty! The small berries, about the size of Blackberries, were as sweet as sugar and mighty tasty! The birds loved them, too; as did the Possum and Terrapins. I’m sure other critters loved them, too, but those are the ones we rubbed elbows with the most.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thinking back upon those days, we never felt like we missed out on anything. The city life was just something we saw once in a week or two when we went into town to shop. We raised most of our own food but we needed staples like sugar, flower, coffee and so forth. Sometimes we went into the town of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mulberry</st1:place></st1:city> to sell Strawberries or whatever Dad had a surplus of. We would always be treated to a bottle of pop and maybe a few salted peanuts or a piece of candy. We never had much of that because “we was poor folks”. But, like I said, we never felt like we were deprived or missed out on something we felt like we deserved. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Today’s kids often make me shake my head in disbelief because of all the ways they are spoiled. They go throughout their day demanding and wanting more and more. They are bought off because Mom and Dad are working. They compete with each other in Day Care for whatever they get. My Mom didn’t raise kids like that. She always talked about how we would go into a store and just look, never touching anything. I guess we knew we couldn’t have it so no use touching it. She told everyone how good we “was”. Even complete strangers came up to Mom or Dad and told them how well mannered we “was”. We were fine with all that because we didn’t know any better. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sometimes, when I see kids yelling at their folks because they want something; throwing fits of anger; bouncing off the wall or floor like they are competing for an Academy Award or something, I think about how we used to be and long for the good old days.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-59042460524633188402011-04-06T22:04:00.000-07:002024-03-14T12:27:23.246-07:00Bits and Pieces <b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bits and Pieces </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">of Growing Up in NW Arkansas.</span> </span> </b><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We grew up in White Rock Community, about 10 miles, as the Crow flies, North of Pleasant View School.<span> </span>My sister, Mary, graduated in 1956 and my older brother, Arnold, was a couple of years later.<span> </span>Mary went to college in Branson.<span> </span>We lived on a 360 acre farm.<span> </span>Didn’t farm much but grandpa raised a few things.<span> </span>I loved watching all the neighbors gather together in the fall and make Sorghum Molasses at the old Likens homestead on our farm.<span> </span>Grandpa raised the sugar cane.<span> </span>After it lay in the field following the cutting, grandpa would hitch the wagon and drive it down the rows.<span> </span>We kids would help load it full and then haul it over to the homestead where they had the horse/mule tied up to the pole where he walked around in circles and turned two drums.<span> </span>A man would feed the Cane into the rollers and catch the juice in a bucket below on the ground.<span> </span>It was dumped in a long shallow vat where a fire was stoked beneath the vat and began the process of cooking and skimming.<span> </span>I wrote about it in one of my blogs.<span> </span>It was a great show!</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We rode the school bus to Pleasant view.<span> </span>Seemed like it took a while on that old dirt road, going around to all the farms and collecting the kids.<span> </span>Dad worked as a pipeline welder putting in miles of Natural Gas pipe across Arkansas.<span> </span>Also worked for a man down on Pettit Jean Mountain……I think he was a Rockefeller, as I recall.<span> </span>Grandpa died when I was about 7 and dad was gone a lot, working the pipeline.<span> </span>We kept the farm running during the week until dad came home on weekends.<span> </span>We milked cows, fed chickens and pigs and did all that stuff you do on a farm.<span> </span>We had a very large garden that required a lot of work to produce what we needed for the winter.<span> </span>Mom canned a few hundred quarts of everything she could so we could survive the winters.<span> </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We went into Ozark once a week or two to do business.<span> </span>The old man at our insurance company would always come over to us boys and say, “have you boys had your ice cream today?”<span> </span>Course, we never did, so he gave us each a dime for an ice cream cone. <span> </span>He was very nice to us.<span> </span>Mom and Dad would pick up grocery staples to get us by; flour by the big sack, sugar, etc.<span> </span>We would get to ride in the back of Dad’s pickup.<span> </span>It had a cattle rack on the bed and he would let us climb up and hold on going down the highway.<span> </span>He would probably get arrested doing that today!<span> </span>Ha!</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>I loved going to the Ice House in Ozark.<span> </span>Dad would buy a block of ice for our “ice box” at home to keep our meat and milk in.<span> </span>They would pack it in sawdust to help keep it from melting so quickly on way home.<span> </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We grew up poor, but we seemed to always have plenty to eat.<span> </span>We didn’t know we were poor….we were just like everyone else.<span> </span>As kids growing up, we didn’t have cars or horses to get around on.<span> </span>We usually walked everywhere when we wanted to visit our friends.<span> </span>Mom stayed home when Dad was away working.<span> </span>She didn’t have another car to go anywhere.<span> </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>I will never forget the food! Fresh from the garden and fresh from the chicken coop! Ha! Ha! Fresh strawberries and watermelon were the best I've had. We would sit down in the Tomato row with a salt shaker and eat ripe tomatoes until we were full! We also sampled the sweet peas and corn quite regularly! We picked wild fruit, too: Blackberries, Plums, Muscadine Grapes, not to mention tart, green apples and Indian Peaches around old homesteads. What we didn’t just consume…Mom would make jam or jelly out of it.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We had no running water in our log house on the hill. We drew water from two wells and beat a path out by the barn to the outhouse. In late summer and early fall, we cut firewood and hauled to the house. We heated with a fireplace in each end of the house. Dad put in a coal burning stove when it got really cold and used the fireplace as the chimney. Mom would warm a brick, wrap it in newspaper or rags and put it at the foot of our feather bed so we could stay warm. Three of us boys slept together! That was a source of many squables! </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>For the most part, life was good, as I recall; lots of memories about that old place.<span> </span>I loved the smell after a rain.<span> </span>Watching the lightening and hearing the crack of thunder during a storm invigorated my blood.<span> </span>The wind was gentle.<span> </span>It whistled through the Pine trees at the edge of the pasture and swayed the Persimmon trees like they were waving hello.<span> </span>The sound of rain falling on our tin roof was comforting to me.<span> </span>I still like to hear it today!<span> </span>We were allowed to remove our shoes in April.<span> </span>I believe, for the most part, except for church and trips into town, we kept them off.<span> </span>By the end of summer our feet were tough as nails; we could walk on most anything without discomfort.<span> </span>I remember seeing the heavens as I’ve seen it in no other place!<span> </span>Millions of stars dotted the skies; the Milky Way was the brightest I have ever seen.<span> </span>Living on a hill with no pollution to block the view made all the difference.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><b>We now live in Portland, Oregon.<span> </span>It’s much cooler here; lots of rain 10 months out of the year.<span> </span>The gray skies get depressing and damp cold often settles into my bones; Aleve is my best friend….not to mention the hot tub!<span> </span>Macular Degeneration is settling in so the stars are dim, or gone, during the couple of months we get to see them.<span> </span>Things change as we grow older.<span> </span>Now I pretty much keep my shoes on all summer!</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><br />
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</b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-5197780329657007402011-02-27T22:06:00.001-08:002024-03-14T12:30:10.396-07:00My Gold Schwinn BikeSchwinn Varsity Bicycle<br><br>I was never an avid bicyclist during my teenage years. I couldn’t seem to get my legs strong enough for the hard long rides like the big boys could do in cross country competition. But I did enjoy riding and feeling the freedom of the road beneath me. I could do the 20 or 40 mile rides but I seemed to tire easily.<br><br>Our family moved to Kansas when I was 13. I loved borrowing our next door neighbor’s bike to take rides downtown and see the neighborhoods. Growing up on a 360 acre farm a mile from my friend Paul Millsap, without a bike, restricted us like a tether. Moving into a real city began the biggest change in my life that I’ve ever had.<br><br>I started working in Reebles Grocery Store when I was 14 or 15 and began earning money for a bike I had my eye on. At $.90/hr it took a lot of part time work to earn $86 for a fancy bike, but that’s what I wanted and that’s what I did. Looking back over the years of owning cars and things, I don’t remember ever being as proud of something as I was that golden bike with golden tires.<br><br>It was a beauty. I wish I could remember the year but it was a 1960-1962 vintage Schwinn Varsity; gold; chrome fenders, a continental seat and gum rubber tires as gold as the bike. It had taped racing handlebars; 10 speed derailleur gears and built to run. It had a generator style headlamp for night riding. It was registered with the Motorized Vehicle Department, as required by Kansas law, and sported its own license plate.<br><br>I rode it everywhere. I would load it up with my fishing gear and head for the river after school. I would take joy rides downtown or throughout neighborhoods, exploring the streets and backroads. I used it to go to work. I even had a small paper route where I folded and delivered the “Daily Reminder” to an assigned area for $3/week. It was my companion when a car was not an option.<br><br>I wonder whatever happened to that “old friend”…..?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-37136268924763084802011-02-26T20:38:00.001-08:002011-02-26T20:38:45.095-08:00For a brief time in my teenage life, Dad rented an old farm from John Monkes outside a small town called Americus, Kansas. It was never much of a significant size. Why, back in the 60’s you could blink twice while driving through town and miss most of it. Even today it boasts nearly 900 people. We lived a few miles out but still within bike riding distance on a good day.<br /><br />I loved that old farm. Mr. Monkes raised Alfalfa in the north field. We used to sit at the breakfast table and watch a lone Coyote bask out there in the early morning sunshine. We had fun exploring the old creek bed and throwing rocks into the pond. It was fun to sneak up to the old grass covered dam and watch a couple of Mud Ducks swimming around like no one else was there. Even though I hunted Rabbit and Squirrel, I never had the heart to shoot the ducks. I loved watching them swim.<br /><br />I bought a Coyote call, a whistle that, when properly blown, one could call in wild Coyotes. It took me a while, but I learned how it worked. I had been rabbit hunting with our young Beagles. I shot a rabbit. I bent down to pick him up and he began to let out an awful cry. That was it! Immediately, I knew how to blow the Coyote call.<br /><br />A good friend of ours, Charles Thornton, came out from Emporia one afternoon and we went down into the draw by the creek to see what we could call up.<br /><br />We found a strategic place in the tall grass next to a barbed wire fence and a small bush to hide behind. We sat down in the grass and I began to blow the Coyote call like a pro. Soon we spotted a lone Coyote coming over a rise towards the West. He was on the other side of the wooded creek that meandered across the land like a serpent. We strained to see as he dropped out of sight in the trees. About that same time we heard a noise that startled us. We both whipped our heads around to see behind us. In the tall Johnson Grass, standing on his hind legs straining to find the source of the noisy call, stood a big, red Coyote not more than 25 or 30 feet away! Our movement was caught by his sharp eyesight and he immediately left the area. We never saw him again.<br /><br />Charles and I looked at each other and grinned. That alone was worth the time to walk down here and blow this whistle! It was great! Another blow on the whistle and we looked intently down in to the draw to try to find the first Coyote. The sun had gone down and it was starting to get dark. We weren’t sure we would have enough daylight to spot another. Crouching lower into the grass I gave the whistle another blow.<br /><br />All at once a large Owl, who apparently had his heart set on a Rabbit meal, dove down from the sky towards our position. Fortunately, he recognized the difference and took off into the skies. We could feel the air and hear the noise from his dive as he pulled up just inches from our heads.<br /><br />The hair on the back of my neck raised and I was done. This was definitely an exciting evening of Coyote calling! We totally didn’t expect the Owl.<br /><br />I will never forget that day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-81474994507753687452010-12-01T21:11:00.000-08:002010-12-01T21:12:20.003-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:130%;" >This UNKNOWN AUTHOR says it all.......</span><br /><br /> At a time when our president and other politicians tend to<br />apologize for our country's prior actions, here's a refresher on how some<br />of our former patriots handled negative comments about our country. JFK'S Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, was in France in the<br />early 60's when DeGaule decided to pull out of NATO. DeGaule said<br />he wanted all US military out of France as soon as possible.<br />Rusk responded, “Does that include those who are buried here?"<br />DeGaule did not respond.<br /> You could have heard a pin drop.<br /><br />When in England , at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked<br />by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were<br />just an example of 'empire building' by George Bush.<br />He answered by saying, “Over the years, the United States has sent many of<br />its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom<br />beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for<br />in return is enough to bury those that did not return."<br /> You could have heard a pin drop.<br /><br />There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers<br />were taking part, including French and American. During a break,<br />one of the French engineers came back into the room saying, "Have you<br />heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft<br />carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What does he<br />intend to do, bomb them?"<br />A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: "Our carriers have<br />three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred<br />people; they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical<br />power to shore facilities; they have three cafeterias with<br />the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day, they can<br />produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day, and<br />they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims<br />and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships;<br />how many does France have?"<br /> You could have heard a pin drop.<br /><br />A U.S. Navy Admiral<br /> was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S., English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies. At a cocktail reception, he found himself<br />standing with a large group of officers that included personnel from most<br />of those countries. Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped<br />their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas<br />Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then<br />asked, "Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences<br />rather than speaking French?"<br /><br />Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied, "Maybe it's because<br />the Brit's, Canadians, Aussie's and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German."<br /> You could have heard a pin drop.<br /><br />Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane.<br />At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on.<br /> "You have been to France before, monsieur?" the customs sarcastically.<br /><br />Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously. "Then you should know enough to have your passport ready." The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it."<br />"Impossible... Americans always have to show their passports upon arrival in France!"<br />The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he<br />quietly explained, ''Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in<br />1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen<br /> to show a passport to." You could have heard a pin drop. ….Author UnknownUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-73679539957466952072010-11-18T16:38:00.000-08:002010-11-18T16:39:57.121-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;color:#009900;">FAIRVIEW, OREGON<br /></span><br />Nestled in the palm of Troutdale, Gresham, Wood Village and Portland is a small “burg” called Fairview, Oregon. The 2000 census says the population was 7,561, but now pushes over 9,700. Apparently the city does quite well financially. It is a progressive community with a small but adequate police force, a judge by appointment only and a few shops and a library. <br /><br />Not much happens in Fairview. Crime is fairly low. Houses are expensive and taxes are high. Most of the town is built on an old swamp. The remaining swampy area is called a “wildlife habitat”, by some. Part of it, in some ways, reminds me a lot of Mayberry USA. Shopping centers have built around the old Dog Track that closed a few years ago. The Greyhounds have been adopted out by pet owners looking for something unusual to own. Fairview wanted to turn it into a gambling Casino this year, but the voters turned it down. <br /><br />In some ways, Fairview is a lot like the City of Lake Oswego. The local law enforcement are keeping the peace and fighting crime like the big boys. They show up in an hour or two to investigate a break-in of a parked car; write up their report and then leave. They check out unauthorized noises, investigate neighborhood complaints of a barking dog, Traffic criminals are apprehended and prosecuted routinely. Officer “Obie” (a generic name coined from the song, “Alice’s Restaurant” back in the 60’s) can often be seen peeking around some obstruction watching out for violators. He sits a lot in parking lots watching for those doing over 20 in a school zone, 7 to 5 every day or so. <br /><br />I’m sure the city does quite well financially, even in this beaten down economy. Why, the price of a “California stop” in Fairview cost one 60-year old school teacher $485 on her way to return books to the Library to avoid a fine. That’s a “rolling stop” for those of you new to California. Probably 80% of drivers do those, even our fine law enforcement officers, which I’ve witnessed. It’s funny how a rolling stop is more of a criminal offense than a friend of mine who was caught speeding, doing 70 in a construction zone and paid $280.<br /><br />Obama could learn something from our city. Just look at how much the national debt could be reduced by catching and fining all those criminals out there doing rolling stops and jay walking. We actually witnessed the officer doing an illegal U-turn to go after a young man jay walking. Thank you, Officer, for protecting us!<br /><br />If you come to our fair city of Fairview, pay attention to school zones and keep it below 20 at all times; 25 in neighborhoods. No Texting is allowed; hands-free cell phone use only (that doesn’t mean you can HOLD IT IN YOUR HAND). Oh, and if you ARE pulled over, the huge fine levied against you will go a long way in keeping our local government financially solvent, so that more criminals, like yourself, can enjoy our friendly city.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-4873858552636509152010-10-03T21:03:00.001-07:002010-10-03T21:14:19.865-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9ZRgm_Vjk4J5HCLiKDDnyQOi_p27H2w1okKKMYUf_g5gmX0QnJrwUK3_h_G6jDCunLDxKHDQuUNHbllJQ5-CjdZe_eOBH6bo7_gntU1ix8GBlnxG3XxZJ8c8fQGDyvWd_6qU/s1600/IMG_6769.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524037929047678210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9ZRgm_Vjk4J5HCLiKDDnyQOi_p27H2w1okKKMYUf_g5gmX0QnJrwUK3_h_G6jDCunLDxKHDQuUNHbllJQ5-CjdZe_eOBH6bo7_gntU1ix8GBlnxG3XxZJ8c8fQGDyvWd_6qU/s320/IMG_6769.JPG" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"> IT’S NO SECRET…..</span><br /><br />I do love the mountains! Backpacking trips into high mountain country is my favorite vacation! To lift your eyes towards the high country one day and then relax in a soft chair with hot coffee in the cool, early morning sunrise, watching the first rays of sun light up the mountain tops and fog covered valleys far below, the next day; there’s nothing like it! I wish everyone could experience such a memorable event!<br /><br />For the most part, my experiences usually left me with a desire…..no….a longing, to return for the sequel. Trips that make you long to return are usually trips that made a positive impact. Rarely did I ever find the opposite to be true. I can only remember two of those; even then, it was a poor choice of trails. Better planning could have fixed that! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrG-QnNQXuyiQ5Weq9HVHWn7hlaReKgLx85NrYN6o_4i9SviNkdDPZtsw-9_iIVUKrzKgq8c1azYo3TnWXz4VXyMGMSeQdCsPfP7bKYJqh7spCR2OJnxqX2s6BO5McDaIohxE/s1600/IMG_6573.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524037920463219074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrG-QnNQXuyiQ5Weq9HVHWn7hlaReKgLx85NrYN6o_4i9SviNkdDPZtsw-9_iIVUKrzKgq8c1azYo3TnWXz4VXyMGMSeQdCsPfP7bKYJqh7spCR2OJnxqX2s6BO5McDaIohxE/s320/IMG_6573.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw72DWdv4EFrTjdSKJrEqtb5UIP564UWwTbHDCUEE4kZMWMsAIeohAivzsxxN3Z8JoV-MnM4fNUKs9b9LagQ0TbGbkoGq1grzBsQMfV5B_laLQbZ_dnFeer3ogbS_bLlyFjgo/s1600/IMG_6748.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524037927261544866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw72DWdv4EFrTjdSKJrEqtb5UIP564UWwTbHDCUEE4kZMWMsAIeohAivzsxxN3Z8JoV-MnM4fNUKs9b9LagQ0TbGbkoGq1grzBsQMfV5B_laLQbZ_dnFeer3ogbS_bLlyFjgo/s320/IMG_6748.JPG" /></a><br />My fourth trip out this year was one of those difficult trails. As I grow older, I find it more difficult to get into the shape I need to make backpacking easier. The leg muscles seem to always be sore, never getting strong. I tire more easily now. I’m sure the day will co<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DwARL1ZMuaDUFrykOJcWS50UVPZafTh-FvLXh-mD1-7maG2-hVG_zIxAwxiZn3f6qtghgwd3evujdUHEA6BrA_uW5eQqHd72YV2f5i80UJ93-t-C8LhJ-qnIgS0xJmMaJ64i/s1600/IMG_6569.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524037917338595218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DwARL1ZMuaDUFrykOJcWS50UVPZafTh-FvLXh-mD1-7maG2-hVG_zIxAwxiZn3f6qtghgwd3evujdUHEA6BrA_uW5eQqHd72YV2f5i80UJ93-t-C8LhJ-qnIgS0xJmMaJ64i/s320/IMG_6569.JPG" /></a>me when the backpacking will end. In my mind, I would love to hike forever (and perhaps I will). In reality, until the end comes, I will continue to do my best and experience the most amazing vistas I can find.<br /><br />The Enchantments was my destination a couple of weeks ago. Although the weather turned sour with rain and fog, it was a memorable experience! The steepest trail I had ever encountered was this one! The Aasgard Pass is one to remember! You should try it!<br /><br />More on this hike later…. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-6955511967488212652010-09-02T19:49:00.000-07:002010-09-02T20:38:02.833-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNg7fCd5OtIaDAVkx6I9ZfEZWgqldysxTRmHd6n8VWpHRygLeuR7yyP7iqg9R-DQTmmQLP-xtT2uqgvFIhqJYxDOwQvM447AV9qpVM-V0gdWMIZwzt88GH71M8w5B5UMFuSvN/s1600/WT4..Goat+Rocks+023.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512526211795469666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNg7fCd5OtIaDAVkx6I9ZfEZWgqldysxTRmHd6n8VWpHRygLeuR7yyP7iqg9R-DQTmmQLP-xtT2uqgvFIhqJYxDOwQvM447AV9qpVM-V0gdWMIZwzt88GH71M8w5B5UMFuSvN/s400/WT4..Goat+Rocks+023.jpg" /></a> WILDERNESS TREK 2010<br />August 12-16, 2010<br />Jefferson Park,<br />Mt. Jefferson, Oregon<br /><br /><br />This year’s Wilderness Trek was, perhaps, the best and most spiritual of all of our Wilderness Trek’s. Every day was filled with viewing God’s creation and studying God’s Word from the Book of Colossians. Evening devotionals were Spirit led and filled with discussions, reading and prayers. We learned about and from each other. New friendships were made that will last for a lifetime. God was, indeed, in our midst. What a blessing it was to be a part of this experience!<br /><br />Wilderness Trek 2010 began serious planning stages as soon as we learned that our request for a Group Camp Permit for the Wonderland Trail was denied for the 3rd or 4th year in a row. Leaders were selected and the sign-up list filled by our Teens. Everyone was informed of our decision to go to Jefferson Park on the North side of Mt. Jefferson, Oregon and camp on the shores of Scout Lake.<br /><br />A week before departure, Alyssa Beekman, Josha Moss and I (Mike Thomas) made a quick overnight trip to Jefferson Park for a “scouting expedition”. We wanted to make sure we knew the trail conditions and what to expect once we arrived in the Park. We found a large campsite at Scout Lake that should serve our site needs. We actually camped at a secondary option on the shores of Bays Lake. The next day we looked around for activity options, and then headed home.<br /><br />At 0700 Thursday morning, August 12, we loaded up our teens in a 15 passenger van and headed south. Two teens had dropped out which left us with 6 teens and 4 adult leaders. We stopped at McDonald’s in Salem for a breakfast snack, then back on the road towards Detroit Lake, Oregon. About 10 miles out of Detroit we cut off for a 7 mile dirt road trip to the Whitewater Trail Head, where we would begin our actual hiking. Our destination would be on the North Shore of Scout Lake, a distance of 6 miles and 1800’ elevation gain.<br /><br />It was a beautiful sunny day; exactly like you would wish for, if wishes came true. The air was cool, the sun was shining, and the lower elevation temperatures would be in the 80’s and 90’s today. Ours would be a bit cooler in the upper elevations of Jefferson Park.<br /><br />We stopped along the trail at the first rocky outcropping that gave us views of Grizzly Peak and Woodpecker Ridge to begin prep work in our Journals that Josha, our female adult leader, had prepared for everyone. It began by allowing us to do some goal setting for the trip and then have a time of sharing our goals or prayer needs with each other. It also gave us time to have a bite to eat and replenish our energy for the final 3 or 4 miles of uphill hiking.<br /><br />We arrived at Scout Lake beneath the majestic 10,497’ Mt. Jefferson, a Stratovolcano less than 100,000 years old that resides in the Cascade Volcanic Arc, part of the Cascade Mountain Range. It is the second highest snow covered mountain in Oregon in a rugged area named the Jefferson Wilderness and is perhaps one of the most difficult volcanoes to reach in the Cascade Range.<br /><br />We camped at about the 5900’ elevation level with beautiful picture window views of Mt Jefferson reflecting in Scout Lake. Bays Lake to our right was deeper and more scenic but had limited campsites for a group our size. Russell Lake to our left was shallower, but also with limited group camping sites. God wonderfully provided for our needs.<br /><br />We immediately began setting up our campsite with tents. Fortunately, Josha and I had learned from our previous “scouting trip” that the appetite of the Jefferson Park Mosquito was voracious! So I had made a trip to REI, our local outfitter and purchased a Mosquito proof tent and packed it into the Park with my gear. We ran a cord between two trees and pulled it tight in order to hang our Mosquito tent directly over our campsite seating area that was comprised of two logs in an “L” shape. Campfires are prohibited in the “park” so the tent fit well with our immediate needs!<br /><br />The tent skirted out about 11’ and tall in the center, adequate for our sitting needs. It was within this “cone of silence” that most of our interaction, sharing, singing and praying took place in our evening devotionals. We agreed that what was said “in here, stays in here”. During the daytime, it was used for a place of retreat from the pesky bugs that relentlessly hounded our very sanity!<br /><br />Our first afternoon was spent setting up camp, exploring and resting. Our evening dinner, prepared by Josha Moss was a generous helping of Spaghetti with Meat Sauce; very fitting after a strenuous hike to the mountain. It was delicious and filling. Following our meal, we readied our night by securing our food and snacks in individual bags to hang from a rope between two trees to keep unwanted rodents (Chipmunks) from helping themselves to our food during the night.<br /><br />We met under the “cone of silence” mosquito tent for our evening devotional. Greg Woods led us in a time of worship and sharing that turned out to be quite amazing, as it did every evening we were there!<br /><br />Our sharing time was a spiritual highlight of our time together. Listening to our teens express their very hearts to each other was unlike any other Trek before. We listened to their hearts and prayed for each other’s needs. We could see God at work in the lives of these kids like at no other time we could remember. It was a wonderful time together this first evening.<br /><br />We ended our devotional around 10:00 and planned tomorrow’s events. We then headed to our tents and warm sleeping bags for the night.<br /><br />Morning came early on the Mountain. We boiled water for coffee, cocoa and instant breakfasts before we began an hour of personal time with God, praying and re<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD5qnFNXMzr35NtvMGRH_7wB3Lmzw8ofthdlFSi8-zkXNKEFTOBGtEnM8G9_xVSqFsw_jNxtTG11_PqFC0L9r3Pv6pNYAklFHX8llMM4MNAxQrc7tumYf3OXLXKW8L0pSVLb8/s1600/WT4..Goat+Rocks+287.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512521530941763218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD5qnFNXMzr35NtvMGRH_7wB3Lmzw8ofthdlFSi8-zkXNKEFTOBGtEnM8G9_xVSqFsw_jNxtTG11_PqFC0L9r3Pv6pNYAklFHX8llMM4MNAxQrc7tumYf3OXLXKW8L0pSVLb8/s400/WT4..Goat+Rocks+287.jpg" /></a>ading His Word from Paul’s letter to the Colossians. Each day we devoured a portion of the Book of Colossians, which became our center point of devotional that day.<br /><br />The personal time began by having us go off alone to spend a moment in silence listening for God before starting the day’s study. We then read chapter 1–2:5 and answered the written questions: “What verse stands out to you and why? What is God teaching you through today’s study? Pray about how you will respond to what God is teaching you today”. It was thought provoking and helpful to focus our minds on spiritual matters that could help direct our paths for years to come.<br /><br />Following our alone with God time, we assembled beneath the cone of silence for singing and discussion. Greg always had us focused on God for the day and provoked us to be aware of ways we saw God at work around and in us that day.<br /><br />We packed our Day Packs with snacks, lunch and water for a long hike to the top of the Ridge, along the Pacific Crest Trail. The hike was through beautiful meadows, around beautiful Russell Lake and across streams of cold, clear water from melting snowfields. We often stopped to filter a new supply of the most delicious water you could imagine!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5I8ir81B5YRzgbbPRFDseEHphnAXzkmeOJHy3aY9XDt6hHqigJMMb5U9-u20gwlW8fkWdBabMXvAQLuCoy62qi_fiiSwhrdHjYm_1DPgASfMefEfdA5DWPQ02ZUVPgnA0lcb/s1600/WT4..Goat+Rocks+077.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512520940447660994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5I8ir81B5YRzgbbPRFDseEHphnAXzkmeOJHy3aY9XDt6hHqigJMMb5U9-u20gwlW8fkWdBabMXvAQLuCoy62qi_fiiSwhrdHjYm_1DPgASfMefEfdA5DWPQ02ZUVPgnA0lcb/s400/WT4..Goat+Rocks+077.jpg" /></a><br />Patches of melting snow still dotted the area on this day in the middle of August, as we made our way upward to the 7000’ elevation level of the Jefferson Ridge. From there, we had magnificent views of Olallie Butte and Olallie Lake with snow capped Mt Hood to the north. To the south, Mt. Jefferson was magnificent! We looked down on Russell, Scout, Rock and Bays Lakes and an overview of Jefferson Park. In addition, we saw many other ponds of water. One in particular caught our eye. It was close to the Ridge on the south side, still mostly covered with snow, but with a crescent of blue and turquoise along the edge, giving it that appearance of glacier water. It was beautiful!<br /><br />From the PCT at the Ridge, we proceeded to hike even higher along the ridge, attempting to get to Park Butte about 3 peaks towards the Southwest. The hike became difficult and most of us turned away from continuing that quest. Three of our teens, more young and agile than the average continued on to rock hop to the top. The rest of us decided to skate down the scree (loose rocky soil) and do a little “cross country” to connect with the PCT down below in the valley.<br /><br />Soon, we were descending onto a large snowfield, braving our fears and having a lot of fun coming ever closer to our trail. Some of the teens were very cautious, taking their time trying not to slide into the imaginary abyss or tumble onto the rocks. It appeared to me that they were only mimicking Greg’s descent! Others came running and sliding on the snow as if skiing! It was so much fun; they wanted to do it again!<br /><br />We followed a stream from the melting snowfield as it tumbled down hill through beautiful wild flowers and lush vegetation. Soon we were on the trail drinking from the cold stream of liquid crystal.<br /><br />The day ended as did the day before with our evening meal (today was Mashed Potatoes with Chicken and BBQ) and a time of devotional.<br /><br />We gathered beneath the mosquito net, our “cone of silence”, and shared together. We sang songs and then prayed for each other, especially to the needs we shared on the trail our first day. It was very warm and moving. Rodney Whiteside, our fourth adult leader, on his first Wilderness Trek with our Metro Teens, was very moved by the sincerity and spirituality in each heart.<br /><br />The prayers from each of our teens was moving and uplifting. It was, perhaps, the most wonderful moment I have experienced in a long time. I thought, how rare it is that most of us adults never hear our teens pray, especially our girls. As an elder in our church, I have prayed many prayers and heard many others. But growing up in a church where women have no public leadership role, the prayers are usually by men, but occasionally a young man or teen will lead one publicly. My most memorable prayer was listening to Lindsay Tester pray specifically for me at Wilderness Trek 2008, as we went around in a circle praying for the person next to us. I was nearly moved to tears hearing her words.<br /><br />As we concluded our prayer time and ended our devotional, one of the boys mentioned the name of one of the bright star clusters in the sky. We all turned our faces skyward and, at that moment, a Meteor, shooting across the night sky, brighter than any we had ever seen, screamed southward directly over our cone of silence, splitting the heavens in two! It was amazing! It was a very long, wide and bright streak of light that everyone saw, a very fitting end to a prayer and to our day! Thank you, God!<br /><br />Day 3 began as we awoke and ate breakfast, as previously. We separated for our quiet time to meditate and read more from Colossians. We gathered back together after a while and shared our thoughts. Greg did an exceptional job of leading our thoughts as we all went around taking turns sharing our hearts. The “Cone of Silence” was there to prevent us from revealing to “outsiders” the things we shared beneath the Mosquito net. But the intent of our hearts was to get to know each other better and to help each other reach our personal goals.<br /><br />We packed our day packs and headed out “lake hopping”; going around Scout and Bays Lakes to view the Park from various vantage points nearby. Following that adventure, we returned to camp to “do our thing”. Some relaxed, some talked and some went off to other adventures. I took a nap before taking my afternoon walkabout towards the north,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3Wifdyifzfk9bLySOToSoJEjCvqMHrKTxmMcVWj3RAnM2CL28YJm30VE5qVjdCq7JwPrT5qI7g6mRQoicV9tJzyHJnpGWHUuzVGprfDRPerOGGCSo-wEOIwclx-YLdLP3Yqz/s1600/WT4..Goat+Rocks+193.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512519955539028002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3Wifdyifzfk9bLySOToSoJEjCvqMHrKTxmMcVWj3RAnM2CL28YJm30VE5qVjdCq7JwPrT5qI7g6mRQoicV9tJzyHJnpGWHUuzVGprfDRPerOGGCSo-wEOIwclx-YLdLP3Yqz/s400/WT4..Goat+Rocks+193.jpg" /></a> cross country through meadows of snow, water, flowers and streams. It was a peaceful time for me to allow the thoughts of the world, the worries of work and the stress of life pour from me. I was able to pray for our kids and focus my thoughts on the kind of man I needed to be as a leader in our church.<br /><br />I returned to camp at sunset in time for my share of Beef Stroganoff. Our evening devotional was amazing; even greater than the previous evenings. Greg was filled with the Spirit and provoked our thinking even more. It lasted well over two hours, and yet seemed to fly by. I grew more amazed at our young people; viewing deeper into their hearts. I am falling more in love with these young Christians than I thought I could.<br /><br />Day 4 was Sunday, the Lord's Day. We arose before daylight, dressed and headed towards the east to greet the sunrise with a time of worship. We took our day packs, water and Bibles and began following Greg along the rocky trail. At one point we veered o<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqRhStW5TdMGMTr8xkLDXlK2kp3ZZmjCned0afA42e7bpuePg4SlWmGww-U4sUQecyOs-Mwl8LQstxBxMivpSbtTRvlWu2Tc7zCBA1RWdfMqGFaoTQKXmCzWnkYaTkvltneXq/s1600/WT4..Goat+Rocks+253.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512525437801503410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqRhStW5TdMGMTr8xkLDXlK2kp3ZZmjCned0afA42e7bpuePg4SlWmGww-U4sUQecyOs-Mwl8LQstxBxMivpSbtTRvlWu2Tc7zCBA1RWdfMqGFaoTQKXmCzWnkYaTkvltneXq/s400/WT4..Goat+Rocks+253.jpg" /></a>ff the trail and hiked "cross country" to a knoll that Greg knew about. It was there that we began focusing on a time with God. Greg directed us through a time of singing, reading and praying. As the sun rose, we each participated in Communion. We were on Holy Ground. It was an amazing experiece to greet the first rays of sun on our faces, while lifting our hearts to God and communing with Him. <div><div><div><div><div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>The afternoon was a day of “free lance”. We all did various things today. Following our morning’s alone time with God and reading the last chapter of Colossians, we gathered together for sharing. Greg directed us towards deeper Spiritual thinking. We shared our hearts with each other and learned even more. We discovered things about each other that were private, or buried away in our hearts so no one could see. We found out that we, young and old, were much alike; that years make little difference.<br /><br />The afternoon was spent in Bays Lake. The kids went swimming in the cold glacier fed water; jumping from rocks into the frigid liquid, claiming it was “just right”. Uh-huh.<br /><br />Our last evening together was intentional. It began with our final meal together; a hearty bowl of Beef Stew. I was just now remembering that this year, unlike any other previous Trek, we had no leftover food to go out and bury. This bunch was hungry!<br /><br />Greg concluded our time together with a beautiful culmination of thoughts that inspired us towards greater faith. Rodney continued to be amazed at the Spirit of these young people. He, himself, going through some personal struggles, was encouraged and strengthened by these kids; moved by their words. It was, indeed, a time we all felt encouraged by each other. Josha proved, again, to be an excellent leader, organizer and writer of our study guides for this Trek. She is an amazing woman, filled with the Spirit and devoted to making these events meaningful to the teens. The evening was perfect.<br /><br />Day 5 began with breakfast and our final session beneath the cone of silence.<br /><br />Afterwards, we began packing our things in our backpacks; tearing down camp and preparing for the hike back down. Donning our packs with a grunt and a prayer, I led the team to a quiet spot along the trail where we took a group photo with Mt. Jefferson in the background; making a memory.<br /><br />It was six miles to our van. We made it in two hours. We kept mentioning hamburgers and fries along the way to keep them moving; much like dangling the carrot in front of the mule to keep him walking.<br /><br />We packed the van and headed into a place I knew of in Salem, where we would stop for a greasy meal of hamburgers and fries, and do our post-trek thoughts. It was a wonderful lunch! The sharing was good. The meal was great. It was very special.<br /><br />Arriving at our church parking lot to greet parents, we departed, ea<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq88x8TcC_cDTDQSPwdweQvMnSYi4k0ryzgmMYOPwwnw6Hd2195ImfQcrQpA7iwabNu3HGcBRbi8egHhKnSAYsPXEe-gv_YvKLrmIljwg9gVrwKkBNBh6z61i38CemNpTHAI5C/s1600/Rodneys+Mt+Jefferson.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512518099719327458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq88x8TcC_cDTDQSPwdweQvMnSYi4k0ryzgmMYOPwwnw6Hd2195ImfQcrQpA7iwabNu3HGcBRbi8egHhKnSAYsPXEe-gv_YvKLrmIljwg9gVrwKkBNBh6z61i38CemNpTHAI5C/s400/Rodneys+Mt+Jefferson.jpg" /></a>ch to a different place. Some would be going off to college in other states. I feel a special bond to Lindsay who is going off to college in Arizona, as she has been with me on all of our Wilderness Trek’s. I will not soon forget her servant heart and how much she has grown.<br /><br />We came home tired but very refreshed in spirit! Mike Thomas</div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-58229900985254893812009-09-07T21:11:00.000-07:002009-09-07T21:25:44.638-07:00<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">WILDERNESS TREK 2009</span></strong></strong> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0cQkaCWmtGhtZ1Wm14567frW0GyDRXURSVpJe9sGN7LUHBCq5mGy-sha0AQJY-0qyK1mshXY2jA8nAKEfervqQCU40kFNTkEKDm946uE3K2ms-R3Tf5v7k6Fmb8-wfrdm9f9/s1600-h/Wilderness+Trek+2009+008.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 376px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378947040822725906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0cQkaCWmtGhtZ1Wm14567frW0GyDRXURSVpJe9sGN7LUHBCq5mGy-sha0AQJY-0qyK1mshXY2jA8nAKEfervqQCU40kFNTkEKDm946uE3K2ms-R3Tf5v7k6Fmb8-wfrdm9f9/s400/Wilderness+Trek+2009+008.jpg" /></a><br /></span><br />The backpacking experience offered to the high school teens in our church is designed to give our teens the opportunity to experience God in the wilderness. A combination of seclusion, fatigue, trail food, tents, less comfort and electronics fasting, coupled with a spiritual emphasis of scripture, journaling, prayer and focusing upon God’s working in our life, has immense value.<br /><br />The very words, “Wilderness experience” not only means being in the great outdoors, away from the normal hustle and bustle of city life, but also confronting the moments of “wilderness” in our own spiritual lives; times when we are feeling insecure, less appreciated, pressured, tempted, inadequacy or emptiness.<br /><br />The treking experience of the Metro Church is designed to meet all those experiences head on. The high mountains of Oregon and Washington offer much to experience. The high country brings to life the feeling of seclusion by seeing vistas unavailable to us in our everyday lives. Snow in the summertime; mountain Goats grazing on sparse vegetation along steep hillsides; Elk keeping watch from mountain meadows and valleys teeming with cold water and green grass; Deer quietly feeding among wild flowers of all kinds and colors; Marmot and the timid Pica busy keeping watch on their territory and putting away food for the coming winter; melting glaciers and snowfields falling hundreds of feet down ancient lava, through beds of pumice, connecting together with other streams to form rivers and lakes.<br /><br />God is at work in us and we take the time to experience Him at work. Distractions are minimal; everywhere we look, we see Him working in His creation. We are the Sheep of His pasture; created in His image, nestled in the hollow of His hand on the high mountains.<br /><br />The experience is not always one of scenic beauty, warm sunshine and astonishing sunsets. Sometimes, the weather turns sour and becomes unfit. Such was the experience of Wilderness Trek 2009.<br /><br />We were taken to the parking lot of Timberline Lodge on the south side of Mt Hood. The parking lot was half full of vehicles; many of which had brought skiers and snow boarders to the mountain to ski the Palmer Glacier. The air was crisp, wet and windy. The temperature was around 38 degrees and heavy clouds covered the mountain top; visibility was limited. The forecast called for cooler than normal temperatures with moderate precipitation and occasional sunshine.<br /><br />Our destination for today was a high place above the Pacific Crest Trail 2000 called Paradise Park; a vantage point that offered beautiful views of the west side of Mt Hood towards Portland and the Oregon Coastal Mountains. We began walking in heavy fog, blowing rain and chilling temperatures, hopeful to find warmer places. The five miles of good trail took us into the bottom of Zig Zag Canyon where we crossed a raging stream from the melting Zig Zag Glacier. The wind had diminished somewhat but the temperature and cloud conditions remained. We stopped along the stream to view a nearby waterfall and take a small break.<br /><br />Soon we were climbing out of the canyon for another two miles to the Paradise Park trailhead. The steady climb kept us from getting cold, but taxed our high altitude breathing and stamina, especially for us old timers! The rain never let up.<br /><br />As we reached our camping area, we found the place deserted and had our pick of camp sites. The hillside was socked in with heavy fog and cloud cover. Rain continued to fall. The wind was gentle enough, but still gave us a deep chill through our wet clothes. We encouraged the teens to quickly set up their tents, get out of their wet clothes into something warm and dry, and to get inside their sleeping bags to warm up. The last thing we needed was for someone to get hurt or come down with hypothermia, which was very likely in this weather.<br /><br />About four hours later, Josha Moss braved the cold, wet outdoors and began preparing a hot Pasta meal for everyone. Greg Woods, Brian Simmons and I, Mike Thomas, had hunkered down in my two-man tent discussing the events of the day and the prognosis of what was to come, when one of the teens called us to dinner. Slipping back into our wet boots and rain gear, we took our plates to Josha where she gave us a generous helping of thick meat sauce, bubbling in a pan on the single burner stove, and hot Pasta from a second single burner stove. It was a meal fit for a King! There’s something wonderful about the taste of a hot meal on a chilly evening on the first night’s stay.<br /><br />The teens slowly withdrew from their warm sleeping bags to brave the cold for their share of the hot meal. As each of us finished, we began shaking and shivering from the continuing cold, wet wind. We quickly headed back to the comfort of our tents, warming beneath our sleeping bags.<br /><br />Darkness soon fell and we slipped away into a deep sleep, awaking often to the sound of the wind and the heavy droplets of water upon our tent.<br /><br />The next morning wasn’t much better. The sun came out for a few minutes and then was gone. Brian pumped our water container full of filtered water and we began to think about breakfast. There was no organized mealtime for breakfast, as each of us took care of our own breakfast and lunches for the entire trip. Brian used hot water to make himself a hearty hot meal from a freeze dried package of Beef Stroganoff, claiming that he needed something “substantial”. Greg made himself a freeze dried meal of scrambled eggs and meat, along with a cup of hot chocolate. I made myself a double hot coffee and had Strawberries and Cream Oatmeal for my breakfast. As the kids got up, we kept the hot water coming for their use.<br /><br />Following breakfast, the four of us gathered inside my tent, a brief respite from the wind and rain, to make plans for the day. The outlook appeared bleak to remain on this mountain. Most of our clothes were wet and the cold, overcast conditions continued to pound us. We decided to try to find a spot where cell phone coverage could get us in contact with our pick-up drivers and attempt a rendezvous at the Ramona Falls Trailhead parking lot for an evening pick-up. Brian and I took a walk along the trail to a vantage point out of the trees where we once camped during a previous trip with my daughter and her friend. The “no service” warning was steady and the prognosis appeared bleak. About to give up, the signal indicated 5 bars and I quickly made two calls; the first to Sue Tester, mother of one of our senior teen girls, Lindsay. Leaving her a message, I made the second, which was answered by Dawn, the wife of our driver, Mark Doberenz. I gave her the message as quickly as possible and she understood. No sooner than completing the calls, my phone signal went away and I saw again, the words “no service” on my IPhone. We thought it ironic that in our time of need, God came through for us once again!<br /><br />We returned to camp and rousted the sleepy kids, telling them to get up and dress for the hike off the mountain. They needed to finish breakfast and then break camp; packing tents, sleeping bags and all they brought.<br /><br />Water continued to drop from the treetops as we packed our backpacks. We joked with each other about having to carry an additional 5 pounds of water off the mountain in the form of soaked clothes and tents! At one point during the packing, the clouds cleared a view of Mt Hood and we quickly took advantage of it. Greg lined us up and snapped a couple of pictures before the clouds moved back in and obscured the view.<br /><br />Soon on our way we stopped along a particular outcropping long enough to check cell phone service and get my messages. The only one I wanted was verification that our drivers would be waiting for us at the Ramona Falls Trailhead. Sue had left me a message assuring us they would meet us at the pick-up point this very evening. Reassured, we continued our downward descent along the Paradise Park Loop Trail and connected with the Pacific Crest Trail.<br /><br />I was hopeful that one particular point of interest would be visible to the kids and we could drop our packs and enjoy the scenery. As we approached the overlook, we were pleased to be able to see snowmelt from McNeil Glacier cascading down the rugged lava gorge, producing waterfalls one after another. The canyon was deep and dropped off perhaps 2000 feet or more. I led the way to an outcropping; a “tooth of time”, down over the edge of the cliff and watched as the kids peered over the edge to see yet another amazing waterfall far below.<br /><br />Off in the distance was another canyon, cut deep into the ancient lava beds; melt-off from the Sandy Glacier. These two streams, plus a few other small ones farther down the trail would come together and become the headwaters of the Sandy River. We were a little anxious about this stream, not knowing what to expect, as we had to cross it down below. The kids enjoyed the time relaxing on the “tooth”, having lunch, laughing and taking pictures. This was the first time we had real fun this whole trip! The sun was shining and warming the rocks; everyone was enjoying being warm for a change! About the time we started to leave, the clouds cleared the way for a good view of Mt Hood, dotted with snowfields and glaciers. It was near perfect, for a short time.<br /><br />Continuing on down the trail, we approached the wide Sandy River wash-out, perhaps 100 yards across and followed the Cairns and trail flags to a location where we could cross the narrow river on a roughly made footbridge of three small logs and a few rocks. Bridges across the Sandy never survive the winter snowmelt when the high water clears away everything left behind from the previous year. This bridge was a welcome sight. I waited on the opposite side as each one carefully crossed the makeshift foot bridge. This location was about 4 miles from Paradise and about half a mile from Ramona Falls.<br /><br />Ramona Falls was spectacular as always; a scenic waterfall, unlike any other we’ve ever seen, cascading down Basalt Lava chunks, creating a large mural of living water that many people photograph or watch. We dropped our packs and soaked in the view, taking photos and enjoying this beautiful creation.<br /><br />It was 3 ½ miles to the Ramona Falls Trailhead parking lot. The walk was through cool forests and along the clear stream that was once Ramona Falls. The high, solid rock cliffs along the opposite side were unique. We found it impossible to photograph them and make the pictures come close to what our eyes saw. Nothing can ever take the place of the human eye; the clarity, the depth, the sharpness and the magnificence cannot be matched by any camera.<br /><br />Again we crossed the Sandy River, much wider and more water this time, but upon a nice foot log with a matching hand rail to hang onto. About half a mile from the parking lot we were met by our drivers and Brian Simmons, who had gone on before our group to drop his pack and come back to assist anyone who needed help. We had made good time.<br /><br />It was good to drop our packs into the trailer and sit down on soft car seats! We had taken 6 hours to make the 8 mile trip from Paradise Park. Everyone was ready to stop at a nearby “greasy spoon” and dive into a big, juicy hamburger with a stack of fries and a big cola…..and so we did!<br /><br />Sitting around our table, Greg asked each of us to take the time to try to figure out why the trip turned out like it did. Our expectations before the hike were visions of planned, structured personal time with God, scripture reading and reflection. Because of the extreme weather conditions at Paradise Park, our expectations were never realized. Perhaps God had other plans for us. Perhaps He protected us from something that could have happened had our own plans been realized! Perhaps it wasn’t God at all; perhaps it was other forces at work in us. Whatever it was, we now have time to reflect and ask ourselves, “Why?”<br /><br />We’ve already seen several ways that God has been at work in us. One of the most impacting was that we had returned in time to comfort our Brother in the Lord, and his two kids, who had lost a wife and Mother unexpectedly. When I told Greg about our Brother, he said, “That’s it! That’s why we’re back so soon!” Perhaps it was.<br /><br />Mike ThomasUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-88151613865099600942009-06-09T09:54:00.000-07:002009-09-04T15:47:50.379-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHyVj_r02-DyHJ2RY5imgMz6UyNqda_jfKhOmGXJJKo8FOQ21ZgIfFdUy3wR4RBXkGOPAGn4xwYZcDPqLFF-BHaFB-QxPWXY1X-uS2rqHXGhtoqUg9fbWLphS6-YUgf0PDfU0G/s1600-h/More+Family+Fotos+201.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 428px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 317px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345373434494914930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHyVj_r02-DyHJ2RY5imgMz6UyNqda_jfKhOmGXJJKo8FOQ21ZgIfFdUy3wR4RBXkGOPAGn4xwYZcDPqLFF-BHaFB-QxPWXY1X-uS2rqHXGhtoqUg9fbWLphS6-YUgf0PDfU0G/s400/More+Family+Fotos+201.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;">PLEASANT VIEW SCHOOL</span></strong>, <span style="color:#3366ff;">forever young!<br /></span><br />To this day, memories of my grade school days still linger in remote patches of my mind. Various thoughts come and go as if a random roll of the dice brings up another nearly forgotten memory. I do enjoy those moments because my grade school experience was good. We were all farm kids, bussed in from all directions and taught by teachers of all types; most were very nice to us.<br /><br />That old yellow school bus turned around in our lane. We always had time to run out and get on when it pulled up. The Kings lived further down the road but it was steep, narrow and unfriendly for vehicles like our school bus. They would have to ride or walk up that old steep hill every day.<br /><br />Pleasant View had a Dining Room in which we ate our sack lunches. The school provided milk and an occasional treat of some kind. I will never forget those little glass bottles of milk with the paper lid that was easy to pull off. Once in a while we had ice cream! We always had fun sitting around the dining tables on benches, talking and laughing and cutting up as if we had good sense! </div><div></div><div>We are all "Baby Boomers". Some have passed on from this life into the next. As I look at the old school photo, faces of my friends are forever frozen in time. I haven’t seen them since 1960, except one. So, to me, they are all forever young, just like I remember them! </div><div> </div><div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-76740839020917683562009-05-29T18:10:00.000-07:002009-05-29T18:12:18.909-07:00<strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;">The Old Ice House<br /></span></strong><br />is probably gone; torn down or abandoned by now; not much use for those today. Most folks have means of making their own ice in their own homes. As a kid growing up in NW Arkansas, my folks used to make weekend trips to Ozark to buy groceries and ice for our Ice Box. Refrigerators were expensive in those days, but without electricity we wouldn’t get one for a few more years yet.<br /><br />The Ice Box was an insulated wooden cabinet with two or three compartments; upper, where the lid opened the top to allow a block of ice to be stored in the metal lined compartment, and a lower, also lined with metal where food needing refrigeration was placed. This device was the predecessor to modern day refrigerators that use Freon to make the cooling work.<br /><br />The old Ice Box worked by a process of “cold air falling”. With the upper compartment filled with ice, the closed door chilled the air and trapped in the cold, which fell from the top to the bottom compartment through slots, cooling milk, eggs, cheese and other foodstuff.<br /><br />The chunk of ice in the top section never lasted long and would be completely melted in a few days.<br /><br />I loved seeing the ice men at work cutting out blocks of ice! They would bring out a large, square chunk from the freezer; about 3 feet cubed, hung from an elevated rail with giant tongs and drop it near the dock. It would go skidding along the old wood slab flooring. They would then take an ice pick and start jabbing holes in the ice block in a straight line. This would break off a chunk of ice about 12 inches thick by 3 feet long. Depending upon how much Dad wanted they would cut it again.<br /><br />I loved watching the ice chips flake off in the sunlight as the ice pick fell. I never thought much about where the ice came from; I just assumed it came from a room somewhere.<br /><br />Also, ice tongs were very cool!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-16205501944687137812009-05-06T17:25:00.000-07:002009-05-06T17:27:43.980-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUq9KbQDnfMAehYwH9pjS30GHb836tnktF8IhEBvGhR7BiERSBtOqrnISlEzavlVBTeZ5LNijLgo-FPXkOcuwo5W9keUJ0ME6zkvFCXJIKDQAQURM3GjGtT4UR2wDbPpB5vHv/s1600-h/Misc+II+275.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332872107485002850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUq9KbQDnfMAehYwH9pjS30GHb836tnktF8IhEBvGhR7BiERSBtOqrnISlEzavlVBTeZ5LNijLgo-FPXkOcuwo5W9keUJ0ME6zkvFCXJIKDQAQURM3GjGtT4UR2wDbPpB5vHv/s400/Misc+II+275.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong>MILKING COWS<br /></strong></span><br />Growing up on a farm provided us with many opportunities. Even the State slogan said it, “Arkansas, Land of Opportunity”!<br /><br />Although we didn’t have much, we always had enough. The way I see it, the difference between “poor” and “dirt poor” is simply ‘the dirt’! If you were dirt poor….. YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY! Well, we had 360 acres of Arkansas dirt under our feet…. More than we needed! We seldom had two nickels to rub together, but we had land!<br /><br />We also had plenty of MILK! We milked Cows until we were blue in the face! Didn’t we, Pat?? Fresh milk EVERY day! We drank milk like nobody’s business! When we couldn’t drink any more, Dad started paying us 2 cents a glass to drink it! We thought we were in BIG MONEY! Ha! We still didn’t have two nickels to rub together…..but we had lots of pennies!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-58042655441325696422009-04-10T22:04:00.000-07:002009-04-12T17:40:50.962-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGOec_NEFZvDUPgBMc2nxt_HJ3wVZoJqYjNS8kWh3L8pBvIBwgVoSx9j7m98JEGfkYcfr9uvhmNF6HZWWJJRpEFOuzqWhhdWkEjXkKVmWelNymx9_NhpJftnqzraOuKjaMWIG/s1600-h/scan002001.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323297322520678306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 435px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGOec_NEFZvDUPgBMc2nxt_HJ3wVZoJqYjNS8kWh3L8pBvIBwgVoSx9j7m98JEGfkYcfr9uvhmNF6HZWWJJRpEFOuzqWhhdWkEjXkKVmWelNymx9_NhpJftnqzraOuKjaMWIG/s400/scan002001.bmp" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33cc00;">NOW I KNOW.......</span></strong><br /><div>So my letter from the United States Department of the Interior simply said, “We could not get your reservation request to work using any of the alternate start dates and/or alternate camps”. It was signed by “Dan” of the National Park Service, Mount Rainier National Park, Tahoma Woods, Star Route, Ashford, Washington 98304.<br /><br />This is my second year in a row to try for group camping rights on a particular section of the Wonderland Trail. The first time I ever tried to do this, we were approved! It was a Slam-Dunk! Two failures kind of put the “summertime overcrowding” into perspective.<br /><br />Fortunately my uncanny organizational skills have already created two contingency plans to take the teens backpacking. Plan “B” is to do a stretch of trail from White Pass Washington, Southbound along the PCT and jumping off to take Lily Basin Trail to the end. Plan “C” is to do a stretch of the Timberline Trail, about half way around Mt Hood, Oregon.<br /><br />The hard part will be getting in shape!! Wait! Isn’t “ROUND” a shape??<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-48727521138371387432009-04-04T11:10:00.000-07:002010-09-02T19:47:36.720-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">MULBERRY, ARKANSAS</span></strong><br /><br />As a kid growing up in the 1950’s, Arkansas had a lot to offer. The drive from our country farm to the “big city” was about 25 miles down a dirt road and a narrow bridge across the Mulberry River. The hot summer months dried everything; thick dust fogged the road as cars passed by. Roadside bushes and trees would sit covered in fine Arkansas powder until the next hard rain fell.<br /><br />Dad drove an old pickup with a cattle rack on the back. He would let us kids ride in the back when we went into town. I doubt Mom liked it much but we loved it! We often stepped up on the first rail; hanging on tightly to the top rail, chest and head above the cab of the truck, wind in our faces; hanging on for dear life! Mom didn’t like it when we hit the blacktop highway, where Dad could get up more speed. We didn’t stay up there long at those speeds, either. We couldn’t get our breath! Not only that, but to get hit in the face by a June Bug or a Bee at those speeds wasn’t much fun!<br /><br />Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1 and reporting irresponsible parents to the Cops in a heartbeat!! CSD would show up and haul off the kids; parents would be cited and put on probation and all kinds of newspapers would write about it!<br /><br />Sometimes Dad would stop by the old Millsap place on the highway and buy us a Watermelon to take home. We enjoyed stopping there and exploring around while the grownups talked. Mrs. Millsap was a First Grade Teacher at Pleasant View School where we attended. She was very nice. I will never forget her. She was a short, round lady with yellow hair, and most always had a smile on her face. Her and Mrs. Addy were my favorite teachers growing up. Mrs. Addy taught second grade.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQG1-Qd8S0RxFcrMs7lN50hEBTF-2Vaw6BDt-eqWUt4b5kpm57VQs2UVJpVP7L7mR-DAp560zPLVixzYZ4rUewtho0UWODsmt85pLtOilThXUJc6alkmQopmKDe7W__1pZih4/s1600-h/Mulberry,+Arkansas+1940%27s.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 438px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320893816452569714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQG1-Qd8S0RxFcrMs7lN50hEBTF-2Vaw6BDt-eqWUt4b5kpm57VQs2UVJpVP7L7mR-DAp560zPLVixzYZ4rUewtho0UWODsmt85pLtOilThXUJc6alkmQopmKDe7W__1pZih4/s400/Mulberry,+Arkansas+1940%27s.jpg" /></a><br />I wish I had a picture of 1950’s Mulberry to show you, but I only have one taken in the 1940's, although the only thing that changed were the CARS. The whole town wasn’t 2 blocks long. Towards the end of town there was something in the middle of the street….. I can’t remember exactly what it was. Perhaps a large marker, or a statue…. Whatever it was, it was a natural place to make a U-TURN and head back the other direction to park on the other side of the street. The old stores looked like something out of Western days; General Stores, where you could find most anything you need…..nothing like today, of course! There was a Dime Store that sold stuff for as little as a Penny. Us kids were dirt poor and seldom HAD a Penny! But we liked going in there and looking at stuff. Mom once said that she didn’t mind taking us 4 boys into stores with her because we wouldn’t touch anything…..we just looked. (Have you seen kids in stores doing THAT today??)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77TZ11qlf7uVad_zbEat6WCszFGCVrL_4j6twVODFxrcijzfNRkM179ZAIiErz8Q0IY_CNqM96F5GXf1VdHAB7LLSBz0X156me_3Se5haSJarcuonw1tEskEKGhXqS5ipkJVL/s1600-h/Mike+8+with+Mohawk.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 420px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320894912359819010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77TZ11qlf7uVad_zbEat6WCszFGCVrL_4j6twVODFxrcijzfNRkM179ZAIiErz8Q0IY_CNqM96F5GXf1VdHAB7LLSBz0X156me_3Se5haSJarcuonw1tEskEKGhXqS5ipkJVL/s400/Mike+8+with+Mohawk.jpg" /></a><br />Mulberry is where Dad would take us sometimes to get our hair cut by a real barber! We grew up with Burr haircuts so it wasn’t hard for him to give them to us at home. But once in a while he took us into “Gene and Shorty’s Barber Shop” to get us trimmed up proper, I suppose. One day he had Gene and Shorty give us Mohawks! Mom wasn’t too impressed but we kept them all summer long. It made it harder for us boys to play “Cowboys and Indians” because Cowboys don’t HAVE Mohawks! I don’t recall, but I suppose we just played “Indians” that summer!<br /><br />But one of the coolest things to see in Mulberry…..and we usually ALWAYS saw him ….was the Cowboy! I wish I could recall his name, but I can’t. He was a grown man but with a mind of a 9-year old kid, so they say. He was all dressed up in a cowboy outfit; jeans, shirt, boots, hat and scarf. He looked a lot like the old cowboy pictures of Roy Rogers! Maybe that’s who he was trying to look like! He also wore two big guns in a holster on his hips. The holster was all blinged up with sequins, leather strings and baubles that shined in the sunlight! It was quite impressive to us cowboy-type boys! The two big shiny guns were only Cap Guns, but they looked very cool to us! Jimmie (I’ll call him Jimmie because I don’t remember his real name, and besides, this is my story), would always go around town, in and out of each business to say hello to everybody. Everyone knew him by name and greeted him when he entered and said goodbye when he left. He was like an icon, a fixture in a little one horse town with nothing else going on. Every day, so they say, he would make his rounds, greeting people.<br /><br />I recall one day that stands out in my mind more so than others. Dad had some banking business to do so we were standing in the Bank when “Jimmie” came through the door; sunlight shining through the big glass door behind him in. He walked in like he owned the place, waving and smiling and greeting everybody he knew; bowlegged and cowboy suit and all. His Spurs jingled as he walked and his cowboy hat was tipped back on his head in a relaxed sort of way. He made his rounds and then headed out the door.<br /><br />Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1, Swat Cops would be screaming up with guns drawn….and bank employees would be face on the floor praying to live through it all!<br /><br />Well…..those days could only happen in THOSE days.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-87280695221781603032009-03-26T18:14:00.000-07:002009-03-26T18:18:09.900-07:00<strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#cc66cc;">LOST IN THE 50’S<br /></span></strong><br />Being a Codger Boomer, I must confess that, in my opinion there’s no music like 50’s music! To pin it down even closer, I’m drawn to the late 50’s music, from 55 and forward. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in).<br /><br />Everything musical from Doo Wap to Bop Sha-bop meant a lot to me I suppose. I was almost 10 when it started for me. Music can make quite an impact upon a young mind. Even though I went to bed early in those days, I still heard Bill Hailey and The Comets “Rockin’ around the Clock Tonight”. Being nearly Hillbilly, I loved “The Ballad of Davy Crockett” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas”. Those were good’uns to sing along with! I remember my friend and I singing along (in our deepest 8 or 9 year old voices we could muster) “16 Tons”, as we rode the school bus to Ozark to get our (I think Polio) vaccinations. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in again!)<br /><br />How could we EVER forget those songs that taught us more than 3rd Period English Class EVER COULD?? Songs that said, “Be Bop A Lula”, “Ooooooh Wah, Oooooh Wah Why Do Fools Fall in Love?”, “Dip Da Dip Da Dit Dit” and “Boogady Boogady Shoop”, just made the English language come ALIVE! <br /><br />There are so many more…..too many to count. Great songs of the 1950’s! Great music of our times! I don’t hear it much on the radio anymore. There was a station here in Portland that used to be dedicated to 50’s music. Unfortunately, they succumbed to the next generation and moved on to more modern music, like the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. It’s okay…..but nothing like the REAL music!<br /><br />So what is your favorite kind of music? What’s your era??Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-87068909130483326362009-03-22T12:10:00.000-07:002009-03-25T21:25:14.677-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Goat Rocks Dreaming</span></strong><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74hpBQ0hD0LchAM14-60Wu9TiC2k6-wKAjXFFGQmLhM1mCCi_4Wb6cp3Sn41ezSSzOnZj0NX7Wz7PrXSA9tYqTMvHCDbHWTdTeUEROAPNAq-92uV18W2wuSH0V9I0WPp6GOip/s1600-h/scan027001.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316092253905169506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 205px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74hpBQ0hD0LchAM14-60Wu9TiC2k6-wKAjXFFGQmLhM1mCCi_4Wb6cp3Sn41ezSSzOnZj0NX7Wz7PrXSA9tYqTMvHCDbHWTdTeUEROAPNAq-92uV18W2wuSH0V9I0WPp6GOip/s320/scan027001.bmp" border="0" /></a><br />So Brian comes up to me this morning and said he was thinking. Being eager to tell him what I was thinking, I interrupted him and said I was thinking about an alternate trail to take the teens if Rainier didn’t work out. I said, “How about the back side of Goat Rocks starting at White Pass?” Brian said that’s exactly what he was thinking about! So there you are! We think alike even though he’s much smarter than me!<br /><br />So “Plan B” is to start at White Pass, Washington and hike South on the Pa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ait_pqKXFR-LbKaX1qs51-7ZsdL2lYJtW3dq1z7Hj3L3OORAcG4n7WkcoEWTFjFB1qa0OMpNL22M3fsbbAOHD-SHeC3Xoq-ATmjvOvzTgMDnPef90pCyZpQnphpHQ86TzHVB/s1600-h/Mountains+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316092459898433218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ait_pqKXFR-LbKaX1qs51-7ZsdL2lYJtW3dq1z7Hj3L3OORAcG4n7WkcoEWTFjFB1qa0OMpNL22M3fsbbAOHD-SHeC3Xoq-ATmjvOvzTgMDnPef90pCyZpQnphpHQ86TzHVB/s320/Mountains+009.jpg" border="0" /></a>cific Crest Trail, making our way over the top of Old Snowy Mountain and connecting with Lily Basin Trail, hiking to the trailhead on the North end. Campsites are plentiful and will give us an opportunity to camp, once again, below Hawkeye Point and see all the sights of 2 years ago plus some! Brian, you HAVE to be on this one!<br /><br />So, if The Wonderland Trail application is rejected we will proceed to Plan B and do the PCT from White Pass!<br /><br />It’s a WIN WIN !! I like it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-50166644587740621022009-03-21T15:06:00.000-07:002009-03-24T18:41:13.827-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7Obude8s4wK-AiDjCFo_k0fTX7SYpprT50JGfC6n8QDbq8v1XZ5lVPfp4KrqguiwNpvigD5o3E8jeySCDYL2fEKf3qsScg96esDJfQPt9BlvQRVoY2bunA_ACEA-DSojOUbK/s1600-h/Mt+Rainier+2006+286.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316934345079283906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7Obude8s4wK-AiDjCFo_k0fTX7SYpprT50JGfC6n8QDbq8v1XZ5lVPfp4KrqguiwNpvigD5o3E8jeySCDYL2fEKf3qsScg96esDJfQPt9BlvQRVoY2bunA_ACEA-DSojOUbK/s400/Mt+Rainier+2006+286.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#993300;"><strong>Wonderland Trail Dreaming<br /></strong></span><br />There’s no doubt that the Northwest has an abundance of great backpacking and hiking trails. The range of difficulty goes from “wheelchair accessible” trails to “Cardiac Hill – Call 911” trails. I love hiking. Getting out and about is a balm for the soul, for sure! Backpacking is tougher but more rewarding because you can stay out overnight or several overnights. Watching the sun set from a warm evening campfire is indescribable. To arise before the sun comes up and watch the light descend upon low valley clouds and fog, lighting up the protruding peaks, glowing snowfields in shades of yellow and orange as the darkness is chased away by morning, is a living painting! I am convinced that some of most awesome sunrises will never be repeated. I vow to never again let the kids sleep through those!<br /><br />I made application to the US Forest Service a few days ago trying to secure our place on a very popular trail --- The Wonderland Trail on Mt. Rainier, Washington. Mine is only one of perhaps 700 applications submitted for their review. I wish to take 11 people with me for 4 days along 15 to 20 miles on the east side, skirting Little Tahoma, the hunchback on Mt Rainier. It is a beautiful trail with wonderful sights, group camping and an abundance of water and wildlife.<br /><br />The way it works, every group submits an application to secure the group campsites<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwVP_3WD3y1M88BxZfGHbwFEr_pOnVXV9ULbIsMOPAhQ8G8ZjjMnkmHJ6JGViahfgiW1VNIdVu4LVxpFvYsITkPaq8mr4wbLZOHK-tlFLOskwl7H9iC3eMHcu6i3CPgxlrrij/s1600-h/Joshas+Mt+Rainier+019.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315766965218558114" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwVP_3WD3y1M88BxZfGHbwFEr_pOnVXV9ULbIsMOPAhQ8G8ZjjMnkmHJ6JGViahfgiW1VNIdVu4LVxpFvYsITkPaq8mr4wbLZOHK-tlFLOskwl7H9iC3eMHcu6i3CPgxlrrij/s320/Joshas+Mt+Rainier+019.jpg" border="0" /></a> (which are the only places a group of 12 can legally camp) beginning March 15. Every entry between March 15 and April 1 will be looked over in random order by the US Forest Service personnel, who decide which group gets the “draw”. I faxed in my request on the 15th hoping for a best chance. My application last year was not one selected, so we went to the Wallowa Mountains in Eastern Oregon.<br /><br />So today, I am in the waiting period, wondering if my group will be selected. I am taking 8 or 9 teenagers and 3 or 4 adults, as we are limited to parties of 12 in the Wilderness areas.<br /><br />It’s exciting to wait and think about the possibilities of spending an August week in the Mt Rainier National Park. But it’s soooooo hard to wait and see!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16778146.post-2234991461948078272009-03-20T16:18:00.001-07:002009-03-20T16:28:29.003-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCmvSdVaGJi40DX873RIc4P-3yrGdYAwpqlbyZPWw4lGGbqyxE-2AMVG2ZS_8kROOnrk468uVEUvp8ADucrikQBABoNjTB-WQBCJFErDp7lFXY9P23VMojRncgq7a8OatoOOu/s1600-h/Chigger.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315415136556595970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 125px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 80px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCmvSdVaGJi40DX873RIc4P-3yrGdYAwpqlbyZPWw4lGGbqyxE-2AMVG2ZS_8kROOnrk468uVEUvp8ADucrikQBABoNjTB-WQBCJFErDp7lFXY9P23VMojRncgq7a8OatoOOu/s320/Chigger.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"> Chiggers!!</span> </div><div> </div><div>My, how I HATED those creatures!<br /><br />Growing up in the South has its good points. Warm summers (except for the HOT days) made going to the Lake or River to play in the water so much fun!<br /><br />There were some little things, however, that weren’t much fun! And I do mean LITTLE! Who amongst us has ever REALLY seen a CHIGGER?? Maybe I should ask, “Who amongst us even KNOWS what a CHIGGER IS??? Well, I suspect a good Southern boy would raise his hand about now.<br /><br />A “Chigger” (that’s its Southern name) is very tiny, who’s bite is worse than its bark! Anytime you venture into the grass, especially taller grass, or even lay down on the grass to enjoy the sunshine, you can always count on the mysterious “Chigger” feeding on you! Then for the next two or three days you sit around scratching like an old dog!<br /><br />To look at one you need to look very hard. The best way to see one is through a magnification lens. The first thing you will notice is that they are “red” in color. I don’t know if that’s because they are blood-suckers or not, but they sure can bite!!<br /><br />Chiggers are a lot like “No See-ums” in the Northwest, except for the No See’s can fly and they are black. Both of them are nasty little creatures; pretty much sharing the same value as a Seed Tick! Makes you wonder why God created such creatures!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0