Making another trip to Seattle.

Unfortunately to the hospital and possible spine fusion.

I’m going to take the time to reflect on more enjoyable coastal visits. I missed out on the worlds fair as a kid. My older sister went with the adults but I had to stay at my aunts house because Steve was too young. Mom said it wouldn’t be fair for me to go and Steve not.

Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

Today’s tale is adventures in babysitting.

Although it should probably be titled adventures of our babysitters.

The first babysitter I remember was my Aunt Wanda who lived next door when I was very young. I love her dearly and she was a great babysitter. I called her honey because that’s what my Uncle Stan called her. I must admit the fact she gave me mayonnaise sandwiches probably contributed to my dislike of mayonnaise. I particularly liked riding in the car with Honey because she drove like she was training for Nascar when she was younger. It was great!

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

Today’s story is going to focus more on my Uncle Gale or Gingo as I called him when I was younger.

Gingo gave me my first taste of beer. As with most young kids, I thought that was pretty good. I saw my Uncle pouring a drink out of another brown bottle and wanted some. I guess I got a little demanding so he poured me a little. Turns out it was whiskey and I spit it all over my Grandpa’s floor.

Nerves acting up so here we go again.

My sister Sandy was out of the house and married before I was 11.

Her husband was in the Air Force and they lived in the Mountain View suburb of San Francisco.

We drove down to visit them with triple digit temperatures until we dipped over the coastal range in Northern California. All the windows went up then.

That area in 1969 was full of things an 11 year old from Cowiche had never imagined. We saw all of the tourist sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.

Going to have a little more serious subject for part of this one.

When I was younger there were whole families that made the fruit picking circuit. California, north through us and cherries in Montana. Most of these families came from Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. Many later settled here and actually bought their own farms.

This cycle is repeating but with a different group. Some of the kids from the traveling families were in school with us for a few weeks at a time. One of the kids I remember most was a black girl from Arkansas named Gay. I had no experience with racial problems so started talking to her like any other kid. She seemed shocked that I would associate with her and was shy anyway. Years later when I realized more I came to understand but found it sad. As I have said before, I was raised with the idea that if someone treated you right you did the same.

Having nerve spasms so today’s a two for.

My brother Steve and I were at odds with my older sisters boyfriends.

One had the last name of Payne. We secretly called him pain in the ass.

He had a Malibu he was quite proud of. Steve and I were coming back from the creek and he yelled at us to keep away from his car. I got his attention and Steve peed in his gas tank. He did not come around much after that.

Making another trip to Seattle.

Unfortunately to the hospital and possible spine fusion.

I’m going to take the time to reflect on more enjoyable coastal visits. I missed out on the worlds fair as a kid. My older sister went with the adults but I had to stay at my aunts house because Steve was too young. Mom said it wouldn’t be fair for me to go and Steve not.

Okay guys, awkward moments.

I know we’ve all had our share of these and one this morning brought up the subject.

My veins run deep so can be a challenge to people drawing blood. A woman up here missed twice two days ago. After two misses they have to quit. It took three people that time. I think she was determined not to fail this time. It was band here, band there make a fist, open palm turn arm, whack the search area, and all the tricks. She finally found one and the final position was her breast in my open palm while she poked around. She was finally successful and some might have enjoyed the position I was in but anyone who knows me would realize I was slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

It’s almost June and that brings back summertime memories.

I have one acquaintance who spent summers cruising around Lake Washington on a 40 foot boat, which to me at the time would classify as a yacht.

My Dad’s older sister, Joyce and family lived on the river in Pasco. They had a ski boat docked at the house and a cabin cruiser at a Richland marina. Prior to them moving down there, we met them at Rimrock to spend time on the smaller cruiser they had then. It became stormy and the water was rough and it was raining so hard that we were told to keep inside. It was a quick turnaround to the dock.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Okay.

Back to the more lighthearted stories. Today I’m concentrating on pets that were not rattlesnakes. Our rear ends learned that lesson!

I kind of adopted a black kitten that had been dumped and had the fur around it’s neck chewed off. It was pretty pitiful. Steve would taunt it and it grew into a large Persian looking cat. The cat would actually go up to Steve and growl. Oddly enough he backed off.

Here is my latest in a series of random brain farts.

I was talking to two of my classmates in the therapy pool at the Y. For those of you that don’t know, the Y on 40th is a general HHS reunion where we can catch up on the latest gab and gossip.

Also, sadly, news of who is no longer around. The subject went to people who were made fun of or bullied and how nice some of them were, definitely undeserving of the rough treatment. The things that made them targets could be physical differences, awkwardness, or just being very intelligent.

I’ve been thinking this week about the hide the pain mentality a lot of us were raised with.

Anyone remember slap or punch contests?

I had a crutch slip on something the other day and did a two bank shot from the wall to the floor. It says something when hitting a wall is a good thing. It slows the impact with the floor. I low crawled to my chair and pulled myself up.

Nerves are not happy with me the last few days so here goes.

As I saw kids at the Y indulging in horse play, (Where did that phrase come from anyway?) I started thinking of the mean or crude things we do to each other in our youth.

On the crude side, you have the gas chamber or Dutch oven. This is where someone passes gas in bed and holds the covers over the other person’s head. This is unfortunately done a lot by adult kids. Quite often this results in one person sleeping on the couch.

A show on TV today put me in mind of kids cooking.

I’m afraid none of the culinary genius those kids showed was present in us at a young age. Steve would take pork and beans, cottage cheese, or both and put them between two bread slices with copious amounts of potato chips. He thought this was a great sandwich. His kitchen tip was that regular chips were better than dip chips. Also, corn chips were a non starter.

May is just around the corner and this story is going to be a mixture of emotions pretty much like May weather.

May was always a magical month that sometimes smacked you down and let you know who was running things!

When we were younger it sometimes seemed like the start of summer but still retained a springtime bite. By this time of the year the jeep tops were off and the motorcycles out. If you used either type of vehicle, you knew every cold spot in the valley. With no witnesses in the Jeeping community near, you might put on the bikini top and half doors.

Today’s subject is anger and conflict.

When I was in school I was generally somewhat shy and non-confrontational. I started changing my attitude towards conflict my senior year. The first few years after high school and into my early twenties was an ornery stage.

I did not avoid scraps and got in a few. In my defense, I did not bully others but went after the bullies. I had no hesitancy to fight and got into scraps with groups of 2 or more on several occasions. I got a reputation of someone not to mess with.

I started thinking of more warm weather memories today.

Hopefully not just wishful thinking!

Steve and I did a lot of improvising and experimenting with new ways to try to have excitement without shortening our lifespan. Some adults already thought we were destined for a tragic end.

I have mentioned the hill in the lower pasture and the rocks that had to be dodged. We would take the old red wagon and steer it with the pull handle while coasting down the hill. Most kids have ridden one of the old Radio Flyers and can attest to the hard ride and tendency to crash when the handle whipped to one side or another. The usual ride down the hill often resulted in a crash while dodging one rock or another. A more spectacular pile up happened if you actually hit one of the rocks!

The snow this morning put me in mind of spring snow storms when we were younger.

In the last story I mentioned one during my teen years. This one was at an age of about 12. We had gotten about 9 inches of snow one day early in spring break.

Steve and I took a couple of the old plastic sleds into the lower pasture. It had a relatively steep hill ending in a flatter area. We built a jump or two and it was always an adventure to dodge the rocks.

I was watching a movie this morning about veterans using fly fishing for therapy and it reminded me of my family’s ties to the sport.

One of my all-time favorite books is A River Runs Through It. A book by Norman MacLean about MacLeans fly fishing.

Not a bad movie either.

Dad told me about his Uncle Jet taking him fly fishing in beaver ponds. Jet was able to afford an expensive fly rod. Probably more due to the income from his still than his forest service pay.

Today I’m going to regale you with more tales of adolescent foolishness. There, I’ve used my fancy words for today.

Every kid had their hideouts and secret places.

I’ve already told you about the overhang on the dam in Cowiche Creek that allowed us to hide behind what amounted to a short waterfall. There was also a clump of large old greasewood and sagebrush on Cowiche Mountain that had a tunnel like quality. You could sit underneath in the shade and be hidden from outside eyes.

How many of you remember the Art Linkletter show Kids say the darndest things? Well they do and it’s often our fault.

My Dad had a relative that my Mom was not fond of and by all accounts was difficult to get along with. At a family function she came up to us and I heard Dad say her name. I instantly connected the name to things I had heard. The end result was 4 year old me looking at her and asking “Are you the old bitch?”

Had a little pop in my lower back the other day so it’s been encouraging me to write. Sorry! Besides our ornery side, Steve and I had our occasional moments of nice. No really!

About this time of year the wildflowers pop up on Cowiche Mountain. We would find a discarded cup or can, put some water in it, and bring Mom a bouquet of wildflowers.

This of course was after we tired of looking for the first reptiles of the year or shooting at things with our wrist rockets or pellet guns.

I’m touching on the health and eating changes that have been happened over the years. Salt. They tell you now to minimize your salt intake.

The Food network, which our dog enjoys, shows contestants being told by top chefs that they need more salt. These same chefs are shown on other shows sprinkling a veritable snowstorm of salt over food. Maybe doctors need to prescribe “No cooking shows!”

They used to encourage you to use more iodized salt for iodine in your system. I remember Mom starting to just sprinkle salt in her frying pan because she was told it made a healthier, less greasy hamburger. She had a hard time cutting back on salt.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

The blue sky we’ve started seeing the last few days has brought on memories of approaching spring when we were young.

The wildflowers have started to bloom but I didn’t learn to appreciate them until later in life. Opening day of fishing season was an important event. I know I’ve touched on this subject before but catch limits were very generous by today’s standards.

My favorite outdoor humorist, Pat McManus stated it as “All you can catch plus one fish.” With adult limits of 16 and youth limits of 8 it came close.

Today’s tale is adventures in babysitting.

Although it should probably be titled adventures of our babysitters.

The first babysitter I remember was my Aunt Wanda who lived next door when I was very young. I love her dearly and she was a great babysitter. I called her honey because that’s what my Uncle Stan called her. I must admit the fact she gave me mayonnaise sandwiches probably contributed to my dislike of mayonnaise. I particularly liked riding in the car with Honey because she drove like she was training for Nascar when she was younger. It was great!

Now for Conrad Meadows.

My family has a history with the South Fork of the Tieton area. After all, Cowiche and Tieton are just over the Ridge and down a few miles.

Grandpa McLean used to take my Dad up the there to visit Dad’s Uncle Jet. They would meet him at a lodge near the end of the South Fork. Remnants of the lodge’s chimney and fireplace still exist.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Today’s course in foolishness will focus on camping. We did a lot of camping when I was younger. I had mentioned that two of our favorite areas were Deep creek above Bumping and Conrad meadows.

I also went to Camp Fife as a Boy Scout and that’s where I’ll start. I belonged to the Naches Heights troop and we were somewhat non-conformist.

We weren’t into the troop yell, sing along, and rah rah stuff but did well in the relay competition. We’d pick the best people for each section.

Now for our ventures into explosives.

It started out small with the purchase of firecrackers in San Francisco’s Chinatown.

I already touched on Steve lighting some in a restaurant restroom in Eureka. Mom immediately confiscated them but didn’t get them all.

We had shelves of canned fruits and vegetables in the basement. On the top shelf we found a box of various fireworks that had evidently been bought by Uncle Gale, or Gingo if you prefer while we still lived in Tieton. I don’t know why they had not been discarded. Big mistake!

Up a lot tonight so here goes.

Our parents would take us to the fair every year. We had to go through the livestock barns and exhibit buildings first every year. They always looked at Highland’s FFA booth which was a perennial favorite.

Roy Hallstrom knew his stuff and taught Gary Slagg. When other schools started winning the instructor was often a Highland grad.

We watched the rodeo a few times and once or twice saw the musical headliner. There was always the requisite corn dog (often called pronto pups) or other fair food.

Back to the brothers saga.

Things were different back then and kids had free range for the most part. Usually, the biggest danger to them was themselves!

On one adventure I had planned a camping trip for Steve and I up the Cowiche. My family always had a close connection to there and my Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson camped up there at a place called Cold Springs on their honeymoon. It was the gateway to many areas for us.

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

I’ve told some of these before but I’m trying to get a bunch recorded before I’m gone.

Steve and I would sometimes develop mysterious ailments that kept us from going to school but we miraculously recovered from by the time the folks got home. I don’t know how many remember the morning moneyman movie with Bob Iver, but something like a good Abbot and Costello film brought on sudden sickness.

You’ll have to excuse me for the “potty” humor in this one.

I’ve mentioned that Steve sometimes sleepwalked and that our house came with a ghost.

Steve got spooked one night by thinking he saw our resident spook and asked if he could sleep in my room. I reluctantly said yes.

I woke up feeling wet and turned to look at Steve. He was laying on his back and peeing straight in the air with his eyes open. I hollered and jumped out of bed. He then shook his head and looked confused. I realized he had not really been awake.

Okay. This one is dedicated to trouble my younger brother got us into.

Mom would walk up and kill a rattlesnake but run screaming from a mouse. Her longtime friend and Mom number 2 to me, Zora, gave Steve and I some guinea pigs. They were too rodent-like for Mom so we didn’t have them long.

Steve had sassed Mom and done something else stupid so she was looking for him. He found a nest of baby mice in the barn and put them in a coffee can. When Mom thought she finally had him cornered he brought out the can to show her the contents. He then proceeded to chase her around the house with them. Mom finally got in the house and locked the front door. The whole time she was yelling “Wait until your Dad gets home!” When Dad got home he had no choice but to punish us. At least if he wanted peace in the house! As was usually the case, I got swatted too even though I had no part in that circus. When Dad was swatting Steve he said “You actually chased her around with a can of mice you silly little shit?” He was also trying not to laugh at the time.

Another tale of an earlier visit to Grandpa’s.

Steve and I were probably 14 and 11. Our folks put us on a Greyhound at the depot that used to be on Yakima avenue. Steve wanted to sit in the back but I told him I’d been warned not to due to the bathroom being back there. Good advice because even at mid bus the smell got a little ripe!

The bus picked up more passengers at Ellensburg and we had a layover of 2 hours to switch buses in Seattle. I had picked up a copy of Hot Rod magazine and one of Mad magazine at the depot to pass the time. Steve passed the time by antagonizing me!

When we were young,most of our activities centered on the outdoors. Jeeping was a big part of it with family and friends going on trail excursions with their own rig while Dad drove our 57 CJ5.

We went over most of the trails in the mountains and there used to be quite a few lookouts. Ones like Big and Little Bald had actual towers while Jumpoff, Miners Ridge, and Timberwolf just set on the edge of cliffs. It was fun to visit with the forest service people manning the lookouts and hear their stories. Timberwolf actually had mountain goats on the cliff below it.

Today’s rambling is about various other non rattlesnake pets Steve and I had.

I don’t know how many of you remember Layman’s Market in Union Gap. They had special events like Hawaiian days and there were usually animals involved.

For instance, at Hawaiian days they might have goldfish for the kids. On Easter events they had bunnies to sell. Of course my brother, cousins, and I all got pet rabbits.

My son suggested some quick stories about our relationship with the neighbor boys.

The family from Texas had two boys and a girl. The girl was about our younger sisters age and didn’t factor into our day to day exploits.

The older brother got pushy and demanding at times.

Stupid move since we were bigger and onerier than him. He also had a bad case of gullibility, a bad trait to have around the McLean brothers.

Okay folks, you get two in quick succession today.

Mom was the one who would swat us and seldom did Dad do the deed. Dad had a weapon we refer to as the McLean glare. He could stop you in your tracks and make you cringe with just a look. It must be hereditary.

Lilli remarked that she could swat one of the boys on the rear and they might say “That didn’t hurt!” On the other hand she said I could make them cry with just the glare.

Nerve spasms so here’s another jewel.

I should mention that nobody reading any of this should get the idea that it’d be good to try and emulate any of the stupid and dangerous things my brother and I got up to. Not only are they dangerous and likely illegal by today’s standard, but I’m fairly certain we only got away with them because they had not invented the consequences for that level of stupidity yet.

This stage of my life will take a while and quite a few stories to get through.

This was the age that Steve and I had a lot of our adventures during. In other words, a study in rampant stupidity.

I have stated before how Cowiche Creek was one of our main playgrounds. We sometimes played chicken with our bikes on Pioneer Street. Mom witnessed this one day and told us we would be grounded from the creek if she caught us doing it again.

My son reminded me of another tale or maybe tail?

One of our favorite games was to race our bikes. At the time our bikes were our do all atv and race car. Those of you familiar with the Cowiche area might know Mahoney road. It is a gravel road that drops from Naches Heights road to Pioneer road on the flats. It is chiefly downhill with one sharp curve after another. We would race on this. Due to me weighing more, gravity worked in my favor and gave me an advantage. Steve often did better on the flats but I owned Mahoney.

Today’s dissertation is on country guys cooking.

In general the old belief was that the man would be out working and the wife would have lunch and dinner done for him.

Reality was the wife usually worked all day herself then came home and made dinner. That’s the way it was in our house.

Both of our sons and I are pretty decent cooks.

Dad’s culinary skills topped out at being able to put spam and mayonnaise between two slices of bread. If he really concentrated he could maybe roast a hotdog on a stick.

Nerves acting up so here we go again.

My sister Sandy was out of the house and married before I was 11.

Her husband was in the Air Force and they lived in the Mountain View suburb of San Francisco.

We drove down to visit them with triple digit temperatures until we dipped over the coastal range in Northern California. All the windows went up then.

That area in 1969 was full of things an 11 year old from Cowiche had never imagined. We saw all of the tourist sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.

When I was about 9 or 10 and Steve was 6 or 7 we had some new neighbors move in.

They came from Texas and were a new experience for us. I have relatives and friends in Texas and they are nothing like this family was.

They were going on vacation for two weeks and said they’d pay us to take care of their place. This included feeding and watering a bunch of animals, watering their lawn, and mowing twice. When they got back they gave us each 50 cents. We didn’t say anything but evidently they saw the looks on our face.

My brother and I spent a lot of time around the nearest water.

Cowiche creek was only a guarter mile away so we waded, swam, and fished a long length of it. We also used the canal on Cowiche Mountain. There was a long stretch with no siphon so we would swim or float it.

Our floating was done on truck inner tubes which also were our sleds in winter. One of the departments Dad ran with H and H was shipping which allowed him to get some used tubes.

Going to have a little more serious subject for part of this one.

When I was younger there were whole families that made the fruit picking circuit. California, north through us and cherries in Montana. Most of these families came from Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. Many later settled here and actually bought their own farms.

This cycle is repeating but with a different group. Some of the kids from the traveling families were in school with us for a few weeks at a time. One of the kids I remember most was a black girl from Arkansas named Gay. I had no experience with racial problems so started talking to her like any other kid. She seemed shocked that I would associate with her and was shy anyway. Years later when I realized more I came to understand but found it sad. As I have said before, I was raised with the idea that if someone treated you right you did the same.

Having nerve spasms so today’s a two for.

My brother Steve and I were at odds with my older sisters boyfriends.

One had the last name of Payne. We secretly called him pain in the ass.

He had a Malibu he was quite proud of. Steve and I were coming back from the creek and he yelled at us to keep away from his car. I got his attention and Steve peed in his gas tank. He did not come around much after that.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

Okay guys, awkward moments.

I know we’ve all had our share of these and one this morning brought up the subject.

My veins run deep so can be a challenge to people drawing blood. A woman up here missed twice two days ago. After two misses they have to quit. It took three people that time. I think she was determined not to fail this time. It was band here, band there make a fist, open palm turn arm, whack the search area, and all the tricks. She finally found one and the final position was her breast in my open palm while she poked around. She was finally successful and some might have enjoyed the position I was in but anyone who knows me would realize I was slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

It’s almost June and that brings back summertime memories.

I have one acquaintance who spent summers cruising around Lake Washington on a 40 foot boat, which to me at the time would classify as a yacht.

My Dad’s older sister, Joyce and family lived on the river in Pasco. They had a ski boat docked at the house and a cabin cruiser at a Richland marina. Prior to them moving down there, we met them at Rimrock to spend time on the smaller cruiser they had then. It became stormy and the water was rough and it was raining so hard that we were told to keep inside. It was a quick turnaround to the dock.

Happy Birthday Mom!

She would have been 92 today.

I got to spend 60 birthday’s with her and am very grateful.

Mom wasn’t the kind to want much for her birthday. Maybe a few dahlia bulbs or a rose or two.

My Dad was not able to cook very well and damned sure didn’t understand how to buy for Mom. One year he bought her this awful one piece lounging suit at Mode o Day. It was shiny blue, quilted, had bell bottom legs, and a neck to crotch zipper. The day she tried it on is the only time I think she ever wore it.

For some strange reason we’ve watched some cooking shows lately. Maybe because our boxer, Harley seems to enjoy them.

They throw around a lot of terms like umami. The only thing like that in my culinary education was my Mommy.

There were only two or three things I saw her use a recipe for. Her cooking was down home country with a couple of fancier dishes thrown in.

It was years before we had tacos at home and besides the hardshell tortilla, had burger, lettuce, tomato, and maybe some onion. No hot sauce other than tobasco and no peppers.

Today’s ramblings are focusing on tomorrow and the people it honors.

Remember folks, tomorrow is Mother’s Day. What is a Mom?

Someone can be a biological mother but somehow doesn’t have the loving and protecting instincts. I truly feel for anyone who has had this kind of relationship.

My mother was a top notch Mom and I think my wife is as well. These are people who will butt heads with anyone to protect you even if you’re in the wrong.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Okay.

Back to the more lighthearted stories. Today I’m concentrating on pets that were not rattlesnakes. Our rear ends learned that lesson!

I kind of adopted a black kitten that had been dumped and had the fur around it’s neck chewed off. It was pretty pitiful. Steve would taunt it and it grew into a large Persian looking cat. The cat would actually go up to Steve and growl. Oddly enough he backed off.

This story is about an object and how it became part of me.

It might not be understood by those whose family was not immersed in hunting and shooting. The object of my affection is a 1903 Springfield 03-A4 made by Remington during WW2.

My Mom bought it for Dad for 15 or 20 dollars. No one saw the value in these back then. This model was meant as a sniper rifle and was very accurate.

Today’s subject is anger and conflict.

When I was in school I was generally somewhat shy and non-confrontational. I started changing my attitude towards conflict my senior year. The first few years after high school and into my early twenties was an ornery stage.

I did not avoid scraps and got in a few. In my defense, I did not bully others but went after the bullies. I had no hesitancy to fight and got into scraps with groups of 2 or more on several occasions. I got a reputation of someone not to mess with.

How many of you remember the Art Linkletter show Kids say the darndest things? Well they do and it’s often our fault.

My Dad had a relative that my Mom was not fond of and by all accounts was difficult to get along with. At a family function she came up to us and I heard Dad say her name. I instantly connected the name to things I had heard. The end result was 4 year old me looking at her and asking “Are you the old bitch?”

Had a little pop in my lower back the other day so it’s been encouraging me to write. Sorry! Besides our ornery side, Steve and I had our occasional moments of nice. No really!

About this time of year the wildflowers pop up on Cowiche Mountain. We would find a discarded cup or can, put some water in it, and bring Mom a bouquet of wildflowers.

This of course was after we tired of looking for the first reptiles of the year or shooting at things with our wrist rockets or pellet guns.

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

I’m touching on the health and eating changes that have been happened over the years. Salt. They tell you now to minimize your salt intake.

The Food network, which our dog enjoys, shows contestants being told by top chefs that they need more salt. These same chefs are shown on other shows sprinkling a veritable snowstorm of salt over food. Maybe doctors need to prescribe “No cooking shows!”

They used to encourage you to use more iodized salt for iodine in your system. I remember Mom starting to just sprinkle salt in her frying pan because she was told it made a healthier, less greasy hamburger. She had a hard time cutting back on salt.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

Okay. This one is dedicated to trouble my younger brother got us into.

Mom would walk up and kill a rattlesnake but run screaming from a mouse. Her longtime friend and Mom number 2 to me, Zora, gave Steve and I some guinea pigs. They were too rodent-like for Mom so we didn’t have them long.

Steve had sassed Mom and done something else stupid so she was looking for him. He found a nest of baby mice in the barn and put them in a coffee can. When Mom thought she finally had him cornered he brought out the can to show her the contents. He then proceeded to chase her around the house with them. Mom finally got in the house and locked the front door. The whole time she was yelling “Wait until your Dad gets home!” When Dad got home he had no choice but to punish us. At least if he wanted peace in the house! As was usually the case, I got swatted too even though I had no part in that circus. When Dad was swatting Steve he said “You actually chased her around with a can of mice you silly little shit?” He was also trying not to laugh at the time.

Today’s rambling is about various other non rattlesnake pets Steve and I had.

I don’t know how many of you remember Layman’s Market in Union Gap. They had special events like Hawaiian days and there were usually animals involved.

For instance, at Hawaiian days they might have goldfish for the kids. On Easter events they had bunnies to sell. Of course my brother, cousins, and I all got pet rabbits.

Here is the next Cub Scout years installment. There were a lot of my classmates in Mom’s den. Sometimes she got a boy that another leader couldn’t handle.

Mom’s theory was that you couldn’t have these country boys cutting out paper dolls. You had to have outdoor outings to let them be boys within reason.

Here is a roster of our classmates she had in her group. I’m probably missing a few and I apologize. Kids wanted in her group because she actually did fun outings with them. Greg Benner, Dave Neubert, Tom Webster, Rick Harris, Rick Estes, and Mark Williams to name some. As I said there were others and many groups came later.

My Mom and Dad were Scout leaders and I followed in their footsteps.

Sadly, due to mistakes at the national level and predatory scumbags who slipped into leadership roles, Scouting may not be around when my Grandkids get older.

Mom was a Cub Scout den leader even after my brother and I got past that age.

Besides the usual craft projects, she took her dens on a lot of outings. There were trips to Sunrise and Paradise in Mt. Rainier National Park and a hike into the ice caves (They still existed then.) or the glacier overlook.

Okay folks, you get two in quick succession today.

Mom was the one who would swat us and seldom did Dad do the deed. Dad had a weapon we refer to as the McLean glare. He could stop you in your tracks and make you cringe with just a look. It must be hereditary.

Lilli remarked that she could swat one of the boys on the rear and they might say “That didn’t hurt!” On the other hand she said I could make them cry with just the glare.

Nerve spasms so here’s another jewel.

I should mention that nobody reading any of this should get the idea that it’d be good to try and emulate any of the stupid and dangerous things my brother and I got up to. Not only are they dangerous and likely illegal by today’s standard, but I’m fairly certain we only got away with them because they had not invented the consequences for that level of stupidity yet.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

I was laying in bed looking out the window and listening since sleep was not happening.

Tonight’s episode is on noises. One gets used to noises and which belong or don’t belong. The night time here is usually quieter with some exceptions.

One patient across the hall has a snore fit for a mummy movie. It will be ‘urrahhg’ most of the night. Another one has a snore right out of a cartoon. I think they synchronize because it’s ‘urrahgg wee wee wee wee’ all night.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

It’s almost June and that brings back summertime memories.

I have one acquaintance who spent summers cruising around Lake Washington on a 40 foot boat, which to me at the time would classify as a yacht.

My Dad’s older sister, Joyce and family lived on the river in Pasco. They had a ski boat docked at the house and a cabin cruiser at a Richland marina. Prior to them moving down there, we met them at Rimrock to spend time on the smaller cruiser they had then. It became stormy and the water was rough and it was raining so hard that we were told to keep inside. It was a quick turnaround to the dock.

Happy Birthday Mom!

She would have been 92 today.

I got to spend 60 birthday’s with her and am very grateful.

Mom wasn’t the kind to want much for her birthday. Maybe a few dahlia bulbs or a rose or two.

My Dad was not able to cook very well and damned sure didn’t understand how to buy for Mom. One year he bought her this awful one piece lounging suit at Mode o Day. It was shiny blue, quilted, had bell bottom legs, and a neck to crotch zipper. The day she tried it on is the only time I think she ever wore it.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Here is my latest in a series of random brain farts.

I was talking to two of my classmates in the therapy pool at the Y. For those of you that don’t know, the Y on 40th is a general HHS reunion where we can catch up on the latest gab and gossip.

Also, sadly, news of who is no longer around. The subject went to people who were made fun of or bullied and how nice some of them were, definitely undeserving of the rough treatment. The things that made them targets could be physical differences, awkwardness, or just being very intelligent.

This story is about an object and how it became part of me.

It might not be understood by those whose family was not immersed in hunting and shooting. The object of my affection is a 1903 Springfield 03-A4 made by Remington during WW2.

My Mom bought it for Dad for 15 or 20 dollars. No one saw the value in these back then. This model was meant as a sniper rifle and was very accurate.

Nerves are not happy with me the last few days so here goes.

As I saw kids at the Y indulging in horse play, (Where did that phrase come from anyway?) I started thinking of the mean or crude things we do to each other in our youth.

On the crude side, you have the gas chamber or Dutch oven. This is where someone passes gas in bed and holds the covers over the other person’s head. This is unfortunately done a lot by adult kids. Quite often this results in one person sleeping on the couch.

Having a few spasms tonight and decided to add to your misery.

This is going to be more like a list then a story. Most of us have heard a lot of descriptive one liners uttered by our elders. Now that some of us have become elders, it’s time to pass some of these down.

I will change some of the words in case I offend someone. The first was one of my Dad’s favorite sayings that came from WW2 so I will not censor it in his honor.

I was ruminating today on local names for things and places and how some carry on.

72nd avenue is a busy road with numerous businesses now. To my Dad it was always called by it’s original name, Chacola. Not sure if that was spelled right.

Reynolds Creek is still called the middle fork of the Cowiche by most locals.

Different areas up here received nicknames due to the ethnic makeup of families living there. Hence Finn hill and Swede hill.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

I was watching a movie this morning about veterans using fly fishing for therapy and it reminded me of my family’s ties to the sport.

One of my all-time favorite books is A River Runs Through It. A book by Norman MacLean about MacLeans fly fishing.

Not a bad movie either.

Dad told me about his Uncle Jet taking him fly fishing in beaver ponds. Jet was able to afford an expensive fly rod. Probably more due to the income from his still than his forest service pay.

Today I’m going to regale you with more tales of adolescent foolishness. There, I’ve used my fancy words for today.

Every kid had their hideouts and secret places.

I’ve already told you about the overhang on the dam in Cowiche Creek that allowed us to hide behind what amounted to a short waterfall. There was also a clump of large old greasewood and sagebrush on Cowiche Mountain that had a tunnel like quality. You could sit underneath in the shade and be hidden from outside eyes.

How many of you remember the Art Linkletter show Kids say the darndest things? Well they do and it’s often our fault.

My Dad had a relative that my Mom was not fond of and by all accounts was difficult to get along with. At a family function she came up to us and I heard Dad say her name. I instantly connected the name to things I had heard. The end result was 4 year old me looking at her and asking “Are you the old bitch?”

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Today’s course in foolishness will focus on camping. We did a lot of camping when I was younger. I had mentioned that two of our favorite areas were Deep creek above Bumping and Conrad meadows.

I also went to Camp Fife as a Boy Scout and that’s where I’ll start. I belonged to the Naches Heights troop and we were somewhat non-conformist.

We weren’t into the troop yell, sing along, and rah rah stuff but did well in the relay competition. We’d pick the best people for each section.

When I’m having a bad nerve night, weird things go through my head both when awake and the smaller amount of time when I sleep.

I’ll state right now, not looking for sympathy. This is just Scott 2.0, the new me and I’ve just got to make the best of it. It’s just not an improved version other than a slight bit more tolerance for idiots. Not much, mind you!

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

Okay. This one is dedicated to trouble my younger brother got us into.

Mom would walk up and kill a rattlesnake but run screaming from a mouse. Her longtime friend and Mom number 2 to me, Zora, gave Steve and I some guinea pigs. They were too rodent-like for Mom so we didn’t have them long.

Steve had sassed Mom and done something else stupid so she was looking for him. He found a nest of baby mice in the barn and put them in a coffee can. When Mom thought she finally had him cornered he brought out the can to show her the contents. He then proceeded to chase her around the house with them. Mom finally got in the house and locked the front door. The whole time she was yelling “Wait until your Dad gets home!” When Dad got home he had no choice but to punish us. At least if he wanted peace in the house! As was usually the case, I got swatted too even though I had no part in that circus. When Dad was swatting Steve he said “You actually chased her around with a can of mice you silly little shit?” He was also trying not to laugh at the time.

I’ve commented how marksmanship was important in our family. We ate a lot of wild game so hitting what you aimed at was critical. The first shotgun I hunted with was a H and R M48 Topper. This was a break action 20 gauge single shot that Dad had started with before me.

I still have it.

Dad had gone to a Noble 12 gauge pump by this time.

They were sold by Montgomery Ward and I have it as well.

Today’s rambling is about various other non rattlesnake pets Steve and I had.

I don’t know how many of you remember Layman’s Market in Union Gap. They had special events like Hawaiian days and there were usually animals involved.

For instance, at Hawaiian days they might have goldfish for the kids. On Easter events they had bunnies to sell. Of course my brother, cousins, and I all got pet rabbits.

Today’s dissertation is on country guys cooking.

In general the old belief was that the man would be out working and the wife would have lunch and dinner done for him.

Reality was the wife usually worked all day herself then came home and made dinner. That’s the way it was in our house.

Both of our sons and I are pretty decent cooks.

Dad’s culinary skills topped out at being able to put spam and mayonnaise between two slices of bread. If he really concentrated he could maybe roast a hotdog on a stick.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

I was laying in bed looking out the window and listening since sleep was not happening.

Tonight’s episode is on noises. One gets used to noises and which belong or don’t belong. The night time here is usually quieter with some exceptions.

One patient across the hall has a snore fit for a mummy movie. It will be ‘urrahhg’ most of the night. Another one has a snore right out of a cartoon. I think they synchronize because it’s ‘urrahgg wee wee wee wee’ all night.

I’ve been thinking this week about the hide the pain mentality a lot of us were raised with.

Anyone remember slap or punch contests?

I had a crutch slip on something the other day and did a two bank shot from the wall to the floor. It says something when hitting a wall is a good thing. It slows the impact with the floor. I low crawled to my chair and pulled myself up.

May is just around the corner and this story is going to be a mixture of emotions pretty much like May weather.

May was always a magical month that sometimes smacked you down and let you know who was running things!

When we were younger it sometimes seemed like the start of summer but still retained a springtime bite. By this time of the year the jeep tops were off and the motorcycles out. If you used either type of vehicle, you knew every cold spot in the valley. With no witnesses in the Jeeping community near, you might put on the bikini top and half doors.

Today’s subject is anger and conflict.

When I was in school I was generally somewhat shy and non-confrontational. I started changing my attitude towards conflict my senior year. The first few years after high school and into my early twenties was an ornery stage.

I did not avoid scraps and got in a few. In my defense, I did not bully others but went after the bullies. I had no hesitancy to fight and got into scraps with groups of 2 or more on several occasions. I got a reputation of someone not to mess with.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

I was looking at the top of Rainier peaking up out my hospital room window these last three days and it reminded me of days gone by.

Tipsoo was always a stop when going over Chinook and when I was younger you could still see the trout placed there by WSU. They say they were winter killed but I heard reports of preppy looking dogs with nets dressed in purple. Just a rumor because those fish could probably kick some doggy butt.

My Mom and Dad were Scout leaders and I followed in their footsteps.

Sadly, due to mistakes at the national level and predatory scumbags who slipped into leadership roles, Scouting may not be around when my Grandkids get older.

Mom was a Cub Scout den leader even after my brother and I got past that age.

Besides the usual craft projects, she took her dens on a lot of outings. There were trips to Sunrise and Paradise in Mt. Rainier National Park and a hike into the ice caves (They still existed then.) or the glacier overlook.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

This story is about an object and how it became part of me.

It might not be understood by those whose family was not immersed in hunting and shooting. The object of my affection is a 1903 Springfield 03-A4 made by Remington during WW2.

My Mom bought it for Dad for 15 or 20 dollars. No one saw the value in these back then. This model was meant as a sniper rifle and was very accurate.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

How many of you remember the Art Linkletter show Kids say the darndest things? Well they do and it’s often our fault.

My Dad had a relative that my Mom was not fond of and by all accounts was difficult to get along with. At a family function she came up to us and I heard Dad say her name. I instantly connected the name to things I had heard. The end result was 4 year old me looking at her and asking “Are you the old bitch?”

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

Today’s tale is adventures in babysitting.

Although it should probably be titled adventures of our babysitters.

The first babysitter I remember was my Aunt Wanda who lived next door when I was very young. I love her dearly and she was a great babysitter. I called her honey because that’s what my Uncle Stan called her. I must admit the fact she gave me mayonnaise sandwiches probably contributed to my dislike of mayonnaise. I particularly liked riding in the car with Honey because she drove like she was training for Nascar when she was younger. It was great!

Now for Conrad Meadows.

My family has a history with the South Fork of the Tieton area. After all, Cowiche and Tieton are just over the Ridge and down a few miles.

Grandpa McLean used to take my Dad up the there to visit Dad’s Uncle Jet. They would meet him at a lodge near the end of the South Fork. Remnants of the lodge’s chimney and fireplace still exist.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Today’s story is going to focus more on my Uncle Gale or Gingo as I called him when I was younger.

Gingo gave me my first taste of beer. As with most young kids, I thought that was pretty good. I saw my Uncle pouring a drink out of another brown bottle and wanted some. I guess I got a little demanding so he poured me a little. Turns out it was whiskey and I spit it all over my Grandpa’s floor.

Here we go again folks

My time in the house on Cox road was approaching its end. Besides the open space, we had such wonders as a 41 Plymouth and a 32 International that had been converted to a tractor to play in. There was also the barn and a rock butte to catch lizards on.

One day I ran into the house and told everyone a rattlesnake had come towards me. Uncle Gingo said it was probably a bullsnake and laughed at me. When he went out he found it was indeed a ticked off rattlesnake. We had never seen one around there so they came up with the theory that it had ridden down underneath my Dad’s Jeep. I guess they were burning the dump when the adults were hunting at Trout Lodge and they thought it possibly crawled into the undercarriage of the Jeep. I can’t see that having happened so I think it probably just wandered from an area they were more common.

My favorite outdoor humor writer was Pat McManus. People find his stories far fetched and outrageous but anyone who grew up in the country back when would find that they did things just as goofy and sometimes dangerous. In Pat’s books there is a Backwoods character named Rancid Crabtree who taught the boys things they should not know.

Steve and I had our own personal Rancid in the form of our Uncle Gale who I called Gingo when I was younger for unknown reasons. He lived roughly 50 yards from us so was a handy font of improper knowledge. We only had a shower in the house so on Sundays we were allowed to go to Gale’s for a bath. He would sometimes teach us songs or jokes we didn’t understand at the time. If we repeated these at home we would be swatted and Mom would head out the door hollering “Gale!” Hopefully for his sake he had a head start.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

Today’s tale is adventures in babysitting.

Although it should probably be titled adventures of our babysitters.

The first babysitter I remember was my Aunt Wanda who lived next door when I was very young. I love her dearly and she was a great babysitter. I called her honey because that’s what my Uncle Stan called her. I must admit the fact she gave me mayonnaise sandwiches probably contributed to my dislike of mayonnaise. I particularly liked riding in the car with Honey because she drove like she was training for Nascar when she was younger. It was great!

Now for Conrad Meadows.

My family has a history with the South Fork of the Tieton area. After all, Cowiche and Tieton are just over the Ridge and down a few miles.

Grandpa McLean used to take my Dad up the there to visit Dad’s Uncle Jet. They would meet him at a lodge near the end of the South Fork. Remnants of the lodge’s chimney and fireplace still exist.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

I’m going to jump around a bit here.

I’ve talked about the close relationships with my cousins Tim and Terri.

Tim had bought one of the first year of Toyota 4 wheel drive pickups. I think 1978 or 79. We went over to help his sister Terri and my friend Kurt move into their new house in Longview. On the way, we stopped for a meal at the Mayfield Cafe. Those Toyotas did not have a gentle suspension so when Tim hit a bump in the ditch going into the parking lot, it actually ejected the cassette tape from his player.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

I’m going to jump around a bit here.

I’ve talked about the close relationships with my cousins Tim and Terri.

Tim had bought one of the first year of Toyota 4 wheel drive pickups. I think 1978 or 79. We went over to help his sister Terri and my friend Kurt move into their new house in Longview. On the way, we stopped for a meal at the Mayfield Cafe. Those Toyotas did not have a gentle suspension so when Tim hit a bump in the ditch going into the parking lot, it actually ejected the cassette tape from his player.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Today’s talk will be a little more serious at times.

Lilli and I have started attending functions by a group who were seniors when I was a freshman. They make us quite welcome.

One of them was an older Scout welcoming me when I joined the Naches Heights troop. He’s still quite welcoming.

One is an older sister to a classmate of mine and a very young Tieton town council member when I was a Scout.

I’m touching on the health and eating changes that have been happened over the years. Salt. They tell you now to minimize your salt intake.

The Food network, which our dog enjoys, shows contestants being told by top chefs that they need more salt. These same chefs are shown on other shows sprinkling a veritable snowstorm of salt over food. Maybe doctors need to prescribe “No cooking shows!”

They used to encourage you to use more iodized salt for iodine in your system. I remember Mom starting to just sprinkle salt in her frying pan because she was told it made a healthier, less greasy hamburger. She had a hard time cutting back on salt.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

Didn’t sleep much last night and just got back from the Y so here’s another couple of Grandpa Sorenson stories.

We made a trip up there when I was 14 and Steve 11. Grandpa corralled me to go to a lutefisk dinner at the local sons of Norway hall. Everyone else was smart enough to make an escape. Steve went with Dad to Port Angeles to buy some gear at Swain’s for a fishing trip the next day. Mom and Sherri went with Dorothea to bingo at the grange hall.

Another tale of an earlier visit to Grandpa’s.

Steve and I were probably 14 and 11. Our folks put us on a Greyhound at the depot that used to be on Yakima avenue. Steve wanted to sit in the back but I told him I’d been warned not to due to the bathroom being back there. Good advice because even at mid bus the smell got a little ripe!

The bus picked up more passengers at Ellensburg and we had a layover of 2 hours to switch buses in Seattle. I had picked up a copy of Hot Rod magazine and one of Mad magazine at the depot to pass the time. Steve passed the time by antagonizing me!

Today’s story is going to focus more on my Uncle Gale or Gingo as I called him when I was younger.

Gingo gave me my first taste of beer. As with most young kids, I thought that was pretty good. I saw my Uncle pouring a drink out of another brown bottle and wanted some. I guess I got a little demanding so he poured me a little. Turns out it was whiskey and I spit it all over my Grandpa’s floor.

It’s odd, the things that stick out in your memories of younger years.

I have mentioned my Grandma Sorenson pulling a frozen apple pie out she had pre-made and baking it because I claimed I smelled a pie. I was about 4 or 5 when she died but, from what I remember, it’s easy to see where Mom got her cooking skills.

She was a slender woman in her late forties but came home from work and had a stroke. They took her to the hospital but they couldn’t save her. I didn’t know what was going on but my parents, Grandpa, and other adults in the family were at Grandpa’s house. They were all in a somber mood and Grandma wasn’t there.

Today’s dissertation is on country guys cooking.

In general the old belief was that the man would be out working and the wife would have lunch and dinner done for him.

Reality was the wife usually worked all day herself then came home and made dinner. That’s the way it was in our house.

Both of our sons and I are pretty decent cooks.

Dad’s culinary skills topped out at being able to put spam and mayonnaise between two slices of bread. If he really concentrated he could maybe roast a hotdog on a stick.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

The blue sky we’ve started seeing the last few days has brought on memories of approaching spring when we were young.

The wildflowers have started to bloom but I didn’t learn to appreciate them until later in life. Opening day of fishing season was an important event. I know I’ve touched on this subject before but catch limits were very generous by today’s standards.

My favorite outdoor humorist, Pat McManus stated it as “All you can catch plus one fish.” With adult limits of 16 and youth limits of 8 it came close.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Now for Conrad Meadows.

My family has a history with the South Fork of the Tieton area. After all, Cowiche and Tieton are just over the Ridge and down a few miles.

Grandpa McLean used to take my Dad up the there to visit Dad’s Uncle Jet. They would meet him at a lodge near the end of the South Fork. Remnants of the lodge’s chimney and fireplace still exist.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Today’s course in foolishness will focus on camping. We did a lot of camping when I was younger. I had mentioned that two of our favorite areas were Deep creek above Bumping and Conrad meadows.

I also went to Camp Fife as a Boy Scout and that’s where I’ll start. I belonged to the Naches Heights troop and we were somewhat non-conformist.

We weren’t into the troop yell, sing along, and rah rah stuff but did well in the relay competition. We’d pick the best people for each section.

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

Now for our ventures into explosives.

It started out small with the purchase of firecrackers in San Francisco’s Chinatown.

I already touched on Steve lighting some in a restaurant restroom in Eureka. Mom immediately confiscated them but didn’t get them all.

We had shelves of canned fruits and vegetables in the basement. On the top shelf we found a box of various fireworks that had evidently been bought by Uncle Gale, or Gingo if you prefer while we still lived in Tieton. I don’t know why they had not been discarded. Big mistake!

Up a lot tonight so here goes.

Our parents would take us to the fair every year. We had to go through the livestock barns and exhibit buildings first every year. They always looked at Highland’s FFA booth which was a perennial favorite.

Roy Hallstrom knew his stuff and taught Gary Slagg. When other schools started winning the instructor was often a Highland grad.

We watched the rodeo a few times and once or twice saw the musical headliner. There was always the requisite corn dog (often called pronto pups) or other fair food.

I’ve told some of these before but I’m trying to get a bunch recorded before I’m gone.

Steve and I would sometimes develop mysterious ailments that kept us from going to school but we miraculously recovered from by the time the folks got home. I don’t know how many remember the morning moneyman movie with Bob Iver, but something like a good Abbot and Costello film brought on sudden sickness.

When I was about 9 or 10 and Steve was 6 or 7 we had some new neighbors move in.

They came from Texas and were a new experience for us. I have relatives and friends in Texas and they are nothing like this family was.

They were going on vacation for two weeks and said they’d pay us to take care of their place. This included feeding and watering a bunch of animals, watering their lawn, and mowing twice. When they got back they gave us each 50 cents. We didn’t say anything but evidently they saw the looks on our face.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

When we were young,most of our activities centered on the outdoors. Jeeping was a big part of it with family and friends going on trail excursions with their own rig while Dad drove our 57 CJ5.

We went over most of the trails in the mountains and there used to be quite a few lookouts. Ones like Big and Little Bald had actual towers while Jumpoff, Miners Ridge, and Timberwolf just set on the edge of cliffs. It was fun to visit with the forest service people manning the lookouts and hear their stories. Timberwolf actually had mountain goats on the cliff below it.

Today’s rambling is about various other non rattlesnake pets Steve and I had.

I don’t know how many of you remember Layman’s Market in Union Gap. They had special events like Hawaiian days and there were usually animals involved.

For instance, at Hawaiian days they might have goldfish for the kids. On Easter events they had bunnies to sell. Of course my brother, cousins, and I all got pet rabbits.

Nerve spasms so here’s another jewel.

I should mention that nobody reading any of this should get the idea that it’d be good to try and emulate any of the stupid and dangerous things my brother and I got up to. Not only are they dangerous and likely illegal by today’s standard, but I’m fairly certain we only got away with them because they had not invented the consequences for that level of stupidity yet.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Today’s course in foolishness will focus on camping. We did a lot of camping when I was younger. I had mentioned that two of our favorite areas were Deep creek above Bumping and Conrad meadows.

I also went to Camp Fife as a Boy Scout and that’s where I’ll start. I belonged to the Naches Heights troop and we were somewhat non-conformist.

We weren’t into the troop yell, sing along, and rah rah stuff but did well in the relay competition. We’d pick the best people for each section.

When I’m having a bad nerve night, weird things go through my head both when awake and the smaller amount of time when I sleep.

I’ll state right now, not looking for sympathy. This is just Scott 2.0, the new me and I’ve just got to make the best of it. It’s just not an improved version other than a slight bit more tolerance for idiots. Not much, mind you!

Today’s dissertation is on country guys cooking.

In general the old belief was that the man would be out working and the wife would have lunch and dinner done for him.

Reality was the wife usually worked all day herself then came home and made dinner. That’s the way it was in our house.

Both of our sons and I are pretty decent cooks.

Dad’s culinary skills topped out at being able to put spam and mayonnaise between two slices of bread. If he really concentrated he could maybe roast a hotdog on a stick.

Okay, I’m hopping around the years again.

When I was younger I had a reputation for owning fast vehicles. My 47 Jeep wasn’t fast but got me damned near anywhere I wanted to go. My first car was a 68 Torino GT that was fast enough to get me in trouble. I then had a 72 Mustang followed by a 70 Ranchero.

The engine in the Ranchero was a Boss 351 that was built up further. I ended up with double 4 barrel carburetors on it.

I’m going to jump around a bit here.

I’ve talked about the close relationships with my cousins Tim and Terri.

Tim had bought one of the first year of Toyota 4 wheel drive pickups. I think 1978 or 79. We went over to help his sister Terri and my friend Kurt move into their new house in Longview. On the way, we stopped for a meal at the Mayfield Cafe. Those Toyotas did not have a gentle suspension so when Tim hit a bump in the ditch going into the parking lot, it actually ejected the cassette tape from his player.

I’ve commented how marksmanship was important in our family. We ate a lot of wild game so hitting what you aimed at was critical. The first shotgun I hunted with was a H and R M48 Topper. This was a break action 20 gauge single shot that Dad had started with before me.

I still have it.

Dad had gone to a Noble 12 gauge pump by this time.

They were sold by Montgomery Ward and I have it as well.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

It’s odd, the things that stick out in your memories of younger years.

I have mentioned my Grandma Sorenson pulling a frozen apple pie out she had pre-made and baking it because I claimed I smelled a pie. I was about 4 or 5 when she died but, from what I remember, it’s easy to see where Mom got her cooking skills.

She was a slender woman in her late forties but came home from work and had a stroke. They took her to the hospital but they couldn’t save her. I didn’t know what was going on but my parents, Grandpa, and other adults in the family were at Grandpa’s house. They were all in a somber mood and Grandma wasn’t there.

More history from both sides of my family.

The McLeans evidently had family in the Toppenish region. My Dad’s Great Grandmother was driving her buckboard wagon back to the Tieton area after visiting relatives there. A presumably drunken Yakima Native started riding after her and firing shots. The older lady calmly stopped the wagon, stood up, and shot her tormentor out of the saddle.

It didn’t pay to mess with the McLean women either. Especially since this woman’s maiden name was Weddle! My mom’s family were Scandinavians from the Port Orchard area. They came here from New Ulm, Minnesota. Same state as the McLeans.

Today is a continuation of family history.

Thomas Ashton McLean, better known as TA, was our first ancestor to bring his family here. He definitely didn’t take the shortest or easiest route.

He heard that he might have relatives in Texas so headed down there from his home in Minnesota. You have to know the Civil War was still in progress so a questionable move right off the bat.

He found no relatives so turned west. During the war, the army had pulled out for the most part and the Arizona area was pretty much owned by the Apaches. There was no wagon train, just a crazy man of Scottish descent and his family. He actually paused long enough to mine copper in the area.

Here’s the next installment in the McLean-Weddle story.

When I was about 14 we had a visit from Vern Weddle. He was an old cowboy who was over six foot tall and straight as a ramrod at the age of 84. He was still herding cattle in the mountains of Idaho!

He went by the name Salmon River Slim and lived in Salmon Arm Idaho. He said that at the time, you could do anything there you were tough enough to do. He claimed a deputy sheriff came to town and was going to lay down the law until someone fired a couple of shots over his head. Talk about old west!

Today I’m going to jump back in time to some of our ancestors. One of our family branches was the Weddles. TA McLean arrived in the Washington territory in 1865. Francis and Jasper Weddle arrived in 1867. Some of the Weddles settled in the now Tieton area. They donated the land for the first school up here.

Not all of their actions were altruistic and some of them had a reputation for ornery pranks.

Here is the next Cub Scout years installment. There were a lot of my classmates in Mom’s den. Sometimes she got a boy that another leader couldn’t handle.

Mom’s theory was that you couldn’t have these country boys cutting out paper dolls. You had to have outdoor outings to let them be boys within reason.

Here is a roster of our classmates she had in her group. I’m probably missing a few and I apologize. Kids wanted in her group because she actually did fun outings with them. Greg Benner, Dave Neubert, Tom Webster, Rick Harris, Rick Estes, and Mark Williams to name some. As I said there were others and many groups came later.

My Mom and Dad were Scout leaders and I followed in their footsteps.

Sadly, due to mistakes at the national level and predatory scumbags who slipped into leadership roles, Scouting may not be around when my Grandkids get older.

Mom was a Cub Scout den leader even after my brother and I got past that age.

Besides the usual craft projects, she took her dens on a lot of outings. There were trips to Sunrise and Paradise in Mt. Rainier National Park and a hike into the ice caves (They still existed then.) or the glacier overlook.

My son suggested some quick stories about our relationship with the neighbor boys.

The family from Texas had two boys and a girl. The girl was about our younger sisters age and didn’t factor into our day to day exploits.

The older brother got pushy and demanding at times.

Stupid move since we were bigger and onerier than him. He also had a bad case of gullibility, a bad trait to have around the McLean brothers.

My son suggested some quick stories about our relationship with the neighbor boys.

The family from Texas had two boys and a girl. The girl was about our younger sisters age and didn’t factor into our day to day exploits.

The older brother got pushy and demanding at times.

Stupid move since we were bigger and onerier than him. He also had a bad case of gullibility, a bad trait to have around the McLean brothers.

This stage of my life will take a while and quite a few stories to get through.

This was the age that Steve and I had a lot of our adventures during. In other words, a study in rampant stupidity.

I have stated before how Cowiche Creek was one of our main playgrounds. We sometimes played chicken with our bikes on Pioneer Street. Mom witnessed this one day and told us we would be grounded from the creek if she caught us doing it again.

My brother and I spent a lot of time around the nearest water.

Cowiche creek was only a guarter mile away so we waded, swam, and fished a long length of it. We also used the canal on Cowiche Mountain. There was a long stretch with no siphon so we would swim or float it.

Our floating was done on truck inner tubes which also were our sleds in winter. One of the departments Dad ran with H and H was shipping which allowed him to get some used tubes.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

This stage of my life will take a while and quite a few stories to get through.

This was the age that Steve and I had a lot of our adventures during. In other words, a study in rampant stupidity.

I have stated before how Cowiche Creek was one of our main playgrounds. We sometimes played chicken with our bikes on Pioneer Street. Mom witnessed this one day and told us we would be grounded from the creek if she caught us doing it again.

My son reminded me of another tale or maybe tail?

One of our favorite games was to race our bikes. At the time our bikes were our do all atv and race car. Those of you familiar with the Cowiche area might know Mahoney road. It is a gravel road that drops from Naches Heights road to Pioneer road on the flats. It is chiefly downhill with one sharp curve after another. We would race on this. Due to me weighing more, gravity worked in my favor and gave me an advantage. Steve often did better on the flats but I owned Mahoney.

My brother and I spent a lot of time around the nearest water.

Cowiche creek was only a guarter mile away so we waded, swam, and fished a long length of it. We also used the canal on Cowiche Mountain. There was a long stretch with no siphon so we would swim or float it.

Our floating was done on truck inner tubes which also were our sleds in winter. One of the departments Dad ran with H and H was shipping which allowed him to get some used tubes.

Going to have a little more serious subject for part of this one.

When I was younger there were whole families that made the fruit picking circuit. California, north through us and cherries in Montana. Most of these families came from Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. Many later settled here and actually bought their own farms.

This cycle is repeating but with a different group. Some of the kids from the traveling families were in school with us for a few weeks at a time. One of the kids I remember most was a black girl from Arkansas named Gay. I had no experience with racial problems so started talking to her like any other kid. She seemed shocked that I would associate with her and was shy anyway. Years later when I realized more I came to understand but found it sad. As I have said before, I was raised with the idea that if someone treated you right you did the same.

Having nerve spasms so today’s a two for.

My brother Steve and I were at odds with my older sisters boyfriends.

One had the last name of Payne. We secretly called him pain in the ass.

He had a Malibu he was quite proud of. Steve and I were coming back from the creek and he yelled at us to keep away from his car. I got his attention and Steve peed in his gas tank. He did not come around much after that.

The new place brought new friends and adventures. Unfortunately it also brought the loss of my companion since the age of 4.

I think Dixie missed the old irrigation ditch in Tieton so she would occasionally go to the canal on Cowiche Mountain for a swim. Other than that, she pretty much kept to our property.

She had a litter of pups and like most of her breed was protective. The neighbors weimaraners were prowling around and Dixie stood in the bottom of the driveway to warn them off. Someone swerved to avoid the Weimaraners and actually hit Dixie in our driveway. We knew the man and he felt terrible. I was heartbroken but wanted to shoot the 2 dogs responsible for the loss of my friend. Dad explained why I could not do that but if the opportunity presented itself I would have been hard pressed not to take it. She was a truly great dog and started a lifetime attraction to the breed.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

Nerves acting up so here we go again.

My sister Sandy was out of the house and married before I was 11.

Her husband was in the Air Force and they lived in the Mountain View suburb of San Francisco.

We drove down to visit them with triple digit temperatures until we dipped over the coastal range in Northern California. All the windows went up then.

That area in 1969 was full of things an 11 year old from Cowiche had never imagined. We saw all of the tourist sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.

Nerves acting up so here we go again.

My sister Sandy was out of the house and married before I was 11.

Her husband was in the Air Force and they lived in the Mountain View suburb of San Francisco.

We drove down to visit them with triple digit temperatures until we dipped over the coastal range in Northern California. All the windows went up then.

That area in 1969 was full of things an 11 year old from Cowiche had never imagined. We saw all of the tourist sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.

The new place brought new friends and adventures. Unfortunately it also brought the loss of my companion since the age of 4.

I think Dixie missed the old irrigation ditch in Tieton so she would occasionally go to the canal on Cowiche Mountain for a swim. Other than that, she pretty much kept to our property.

She had a litter of pups and like most of her breed was protective. The neighbors weimaraners were prowling around and Dixie stood in the bottom of the driveway to warn them off. Someone swerved to avoid the Weimaraners and actually hit Dixie in our driveway. We knew the man and he felt terrible. I was heartbroken but wanted to shoot the 2 dogs responsible for the loss of my friend. Dad explained why I could not do that but if the opportunity presented itself I would have been hard pressed not to take it. She was a truly great dog and started a lifetime attraction to the breed.

The new place brought new friends and adventures. Unfortunately it also brought the loss of my companion since the age of 4.

I think Dixie missed the old irrigation ditch in Tieton so she would occasionally go to the canal on Cowiche Mountain for a swim. Other than that, she pretty much kept to our property.

She had a litter of pups and like most of her breed was protective. The neighbors weimaraners were prowling around and Dixie stood in the bottom of the driveway to warn them off. Someone swerved to avoid the Weimaraners and actually hit Dixie in our driveway. We knew the man and he felt terrible. I was heartbroken but wanted to shoot the 2 dogs responsible for the loss of my friend. Dad explained why I could not do that but if the opportunity presented itself I would have been hard pressed not to take it. She was a truly great dog and started a lifetime attraction to the breed.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.

Here we go again folks

My time in the house on Cox road was approaching its end. Besides the open space, we had such wonders as a 41 Plymouth and a 32 International that had been converted to a tractor to play in. There was also the barn and a rock butte to catch lizards on.

One day I ran into the house and told everyone a rattlesnake had come towards me. Uncle Gingo said it was probably a bullsnake and laughed at me. When he went out he found it was indeed a ticked off rattlesnake. We had never seen one around there so they came up with the theory that it had ridden down underneath my Dad’s Jeep. I guess they were burning the dump when the adults were hunting at Trout Lodge and they thought it possibly crawled into the undercarriage of the Jeep. I can’t see that having happened so I think it probably just wandered from an area they were more common.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

My favorite outdoor humor writer was Pat McManus. People find his stories far fetched and outrageous but anyone who grew up in the country back when would find that they did things just as goofy and sometimes dangerous. In Pat’s books there is a Backwoods character named Rancid Crabtree who taught the boys things they should not know.

Steve and I had our own personal Rancid in the form of our Uncle Gale who I called Gingo when I was younger for unknown reasons. He lived roughly 50 yards from us so was a handy font of improper knowledge. We only had a shower in the house so on Sundays we were allowed to go to Gale’s for a bath. He would sometimes teach us songs or jokes we didn’t understand at the time. If we repeated these at home we would be swatted and Mom would head out the door hollering “Gale!” Hopefully for his sake he had a head start.