It was summer vacation and I had been down at Range Line Creek near the Green Lantern and had wandered in to the bowling alley to see if I could pick up some pocket change setting pins.  I had done this once or twice before and had been rewarded by the bowlers with a quarter or two for setting their pins.  In those days a quarter was all I needed to see a double bill at the movie theater and get a bag of popcorn too.

The way that pins were set was totally manual. At the end of the lane, between the gutters there was a machine with openings for each of the pins. After putting a pin in each of the openings I would jump up on and pull down with all of my strength a lever at the rear of this device.  This would lower the device and stand the pins up on their  proper position. Releasing this lever would cause the machine to return to its raised position and would be the signal to the bowler that they could now throw the next bowling ball. There was a small pit in back of the machine that would receive the pins that the bowler hit with the ball they threw.  The ball also landed in this little pit.  Adjacent to the pit was a raised platform for the pin setter to jump up on, lift their legs out of the way before the next ball arrived and pins were hit with a resounding crash. Occasionally a pin would ricochet off of the side of the pit and bounce up and hit the pin setter.  Bruises were a frequent occupational hazard.

On this day, Abe Estreen came in with some friends and he asked me to set pins for them.  There were 4 people, so I worked two lanes, jumping back and forth to set the pins. They came in early in the afternoon and bowled and bowled and drank and drank.  Abe was a huge man and his hands were so big that he put his thumb in the thumb hole of a ball and then wrapped his hand around the ball without using the finger holes. When a ball he threw arrived, pins flew everywhere.  The more alcohol he drank the harder he would throw the ball.  He even cracked a pin in two and I had to replace it with a new one.  Every so often at the end of a game he or another of his people would put a dollar bill in the thumb hole of a ball and roll it down the gutter and that would be my tip. The last time they did that there were 2 balls each with a $5 bill in the thumb hole. I was in heaven, I had earned exactly $20!  Exhausted, I looked at the clock and it was after 8pm at night and I was hours overdue at home.

Oh boy!   I feared I was in trouble with my mom. But then I remembered “money”.  I exchanged all of the bills the bowlers had given me for a $20 bill and headed home.  When I got to the front porch I took the $20 and held it in my hand so it was easy to see and extended my arm completely in front of me. Two more steps and mom was at the door with a ferocious look on her face.  But her view of me was almost completely blocked by the $20 bill. I said, “I was setting pins at the Green Lantern for Abe Estreen”. Then her expression eased and she opened the door took the money and said “go wash up and I will fix dinner for you”.  What a relief – she didn’t toss me across the room!

I later learned that the $20 I had earned was equal to a weeks wages for her. No wonder I was greeted so warmly.

Our good friends and almost family, Jim and Denise and their son Robbie also were in camp and so we all had meals together and shared cooking and cleaning assignments.  Since Jim & Denise have embraced Max and my family as part of their own extended family, I was elated that we could all be together.  We usually fished together and kept an eye out for each other out on the water and the fact that everyone got along well added to the pleasure and relaxation of the week.

Fishing was really good and everyone did very well and so dinner was often the fish we had caught that day.  But probably the most memorable part of the trip was  our trip over to Obabikon Lake. There were three boats of us. Jim and Denise were in the lead, Lynn and I were second, and Eric and Robbie were bringing up the rear.  Suddenly, Jim & Denise slowed to a halt and were looking back, I stopped also and Lynn said look at Eric & Robbie.  Eric had their boat in a sharp turn and they were circling slowly.  Robbie was standing with a big net poised to net something in the water, and net it he did.  It was a good sized snapping turtle swimming across the lake.  Lynn and I got our boat about 15 feet from theirs and then I smelled it!  Yowee, did it stink!  We got some photos of it and they let it go.  We have always referred to that week as Robbie’s great turtle round up. 

Robbie and the turtle.

Lynn, relaxing on the dock.

Lynn, doing her Jimmy Houston impression and kissing the smallmouth.

Lynn, Eric and I relaxing in Jim & Denise’s cabin.

I drove to their house in Riverside County and the boys loaded their belongings in the car and we took off almost immediately. Boys being boys, they immediately began asking when we were going to eat! I put it off as long as I could and finally stopped at a big truck stop in Indio. The highway for many miles stretching back towards the west was still empty back then. Today there are casinos, housing developments, fast food restaurants, gas stations, and auto dealerships packed along highway 10 all the way to Indio.

The boys filled up on omelets, pancakes, toast, ice tea and whatever else they could lay their hands on. Little did I know that was just the beginning of their week long food binge.  Hey, I was grandpa and I never said no to them!  The drive to Phoenix was interspersed with several potty stops and to reload on snacks for the ride.  I called mom when we got about an hour from her apartment and she said she was anxious to see the boys. As soon as we got to her place she fed us, because of course we had not eaten anything for  a long time. Watching the boys devour her cooking one would have thought that I had starved them.

That night we all went to a local Mexican restaurant. They served the biggest tortillas I had ever seen, 18 inches or more across. That provided the impetus for the boys to again devour everything in sight and then ask for seconds. I do have to admit that the food in that restaurant was excellent and very flavorful. Good home cooking in a nice clean family operated restaurant. We spent the night with mom and most of the next day.

The boys and I discussed what was going to be the next stop on our trip.  I made a few phone calls to the local fishing marinas and found out that fishing was terrible and had been for weeks. The boys asked where else we could go and I mentioned Lake Mead and they quickly decided on that. So off we went on a long drive to Nevada. We went on roads I had never been on before and they were virtually empty of traffic. But the roads from Phoenix were so rough and poorly maintained that it took us a very long time to get there. The boys didn’t mind because mom had packed them a lunch and extra sandwiches too.

Casino buffet’s, casino buffet’s, casino buffet’s – it seems as if we were in one every time I turned around.  That trip to Vegas was so much fun and memorable for me because of them and their enthusiasm for life.  I don’t recall much of the details because of the one great adventure that has since dominated my memory of that trip.

We went to Lake Mead to go fishing and stopped at a big marina there.  There was a crowd of 20 or 30 people out on the docks, so we immediately went out to see what was going on. There were huge schools of giant 20-30 pound carp all around the docks and the people were feeding them popcorn, bread and whatever else they had available. Chuck and I wandered out on one of the arms of the dock pointing at the fish and admiring their size and coloration as well as the odd sucking noises they made at the top of the water when feeding. Behind us and on a separate arm we heard a commotion and looked over.

There was Michael up to his neck in the water. He had tried to catch a fish or pet one or something and had fallen in. A big hunk of a man, he must have been an athlete to have that strength, reached down and grabbed Mike by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him out of the water onto the dock, drenched!

Of course Chuck and I ribbed him and teased him and had so much fun at his expense.  But he not only took it with his usual good nature, but entertained us with his version and how he almost had a big fish to take home and Chuck and I didn’t even bother to try and get one.

At the end of what had to be a very long summer for my sister, I took a week’s vacation and drove mom from Wabeno back to Phoenix. She had the entire itinerary planned. Not on paper where I could study it and get mentally prepared but in her mind and everyday she would tell me where we were going that day and with whom we would be staying that night. There was one place she had told me about from the beginning and that was the Hutterite Commune in South Dakota.

For years mom had been in communication with a lady in the commune named Becky. She had told us stories about her letters to and from Becky and about their relationship. Becky knitted and crocheted  items for mom and mom sent Becky money, coupons, books, magazines, chocolate, and other items that Becky was unable to obtain from the commune.  All of this was under the table so to speak.  The elders of the commune did not approve of many of these items and so mom mailed the items to a lady in a town near to the commune and the lady would mail Becky’s letters and packages to mom. Sometimes several months would pass without any mail and then mom would receive a number of items all at one time.  Becky would say that she had been unable to leave the commune and mom suspected that she was somehow being kept under a tight rein by the elders of the commune. I never did learn how this complicated relationship came about.

After a few days on the road and stops along the way, we arrived at the commune in South Dakota. We met Becky and her husband and their son. The son had to be in his mid 40’s and so Becky and her husband were well beyond retirement age. Their home almost identical to those around it. It was a small 2 story house and had no kitchen because everyone in the commune ate at the common building. We arrived midmorning, spent a night and left the following noon.  While there the family gave us a nice tour of the farm and a number of buildings. They took us to a huge building about a 1/2 mile from the homes where the commune raised turkeys.  There were 8,000 turkeys in that building they said. The noise level and the odor were both overpowering. We did not spend much time there.

We also got to see Becky’s husband’s shop.  It was a small 10×10 building adjacent to their house where he made brooms. Out in the fields he had an area planted with broom corn that he harvested and then turned into brooms and whiskbrooms. He made several hundred each year and he demonstrated this to us and made a small broom. This provided income for the benefit of the commune.

Their son Ernie was the pig farmer. He had three barns for his pigs. A big fancy barn with heated concrete floors that had slots in it to drain the pig poop and urine. In that barn there were only sows on the verge of giving birth or those with nursing piglets. Each sow had a comfortable cubicle with ample food and water and each cubicle was hosed down daily. There were hundreds of sows there many with lots of little piglets. That barn had been constructed so the poop and urine was collected on the floor below where tractors hauled the putrid mixture out into the fields for fertilizer etc. There were plans for the future to build a processing plant that would reclaim methane and market the dried material somehow.

There was a second barn that contained sows that had been recently bred and they were being fed special foods to ensure their little piglets would be healthy and strong. That barn was very old and looked to be on its last legs. The last barn was where all the sows were sent to recover from birthing and nursing their young. Ernie took us in there in the middle of the day and we entered a completely dark room. He then hit a switch and turned on the lights.  There were pigs everywhere, 3,000 in all he said. They kept the room dark to keep the pigs calm and nonaggressive.

We had arrived during tomato harvest and for lunch we all enjoyed tomato sandwiches. On fresh baked bread from their own ovens that was a delicious sandwich. Becky and her husband did not impose on us the communal meals and the accompanying scripture lesson and prayers. They had food brought from the commissary and fed us in their home which I, being an atheist, very much appreciated.  Not wanting to upset our hosts neither mom or I mentioned my atheism.

The most pleasant part of our visit, for me, was that after dinner a dozen or more of the girls in commune came to the house and sang traditional songs for us. Then we all sat and talked for another hour. We exchanged stories about our lives and how different they were. They were amazed that I worked on the 25th floor of a building.  That I would willingly go up that high on a daily basis was astonishing to them. One of the girls, probably in her late teens, was albino and had vision problems as a result.  Although very attractive, she was very frustrated with her appearance and recently had obtained some dye and had darkened her hair color.  She told us that this had resulted in her being severely restricted.  She was not allowed to leave the commune at all and she thought that the elders were going to transfer her to another commune in Manitoba Canada.  I asked if her parents opposed this and she said they did not want her to leave, but would not oppose the elders.  She also seemed resigned to this and spoke of it in a matter of fact voice.

Everyone we met spoke English but with a strong Germanic accent.  When speaking to each other they generally spoke in a Germanic tongue.  I later learned that this was a language variation of their own. I enjoyed my visit, but was very happy to leave and be back in the free world.

Friday night, close to ten PM, I was on the computer when all of a sudden Billy began barking in a very aggressive manner. I shouted for him to shut up, but it didn’t work so I got up and checked the back porch, the front porch and the yard. I saw nothing and told him to relax.

I went back to the computer and in a few minutes he started again. Back I went and still there was nothing. By this time Cassie was up and walking around so I figured that it would be a good time for their late night walk. Outside they quickly relieved their bladder and we were walking down the drive when over the shed to the west of the house a huge bolt of lightening and an almost immediate thunder clap. It was close, and loud! Billy surprised me by turning quickly and charging back 20 steps or so towards the shed looking up in the air and barking and challenging whatever it was that made that nasty sound. His feet were planted wide apart and his back was arched ready for action. He was not the least bit afraid of it and dared it to do it again. Which it did and that just infuriated him even more. By this time I was along side of him and was petting him and telling him in a calm voice that there was nothing to worry about. There was another huge lightening bolt and thunder clap while I was trying to calm him and his reaction was calmer. So I decided we should go back in the house. I helped Cassie get up the steps and the instant we were in the house the skies opened up and it poured for about 10 minutes. We got lots of water in a very short time which made me happy. This was another fun adventure with Billy.

My family moved to Soperton, a suburb of Wabeno Wisconsin when I was in 4th – 5th grade.

One of my good buddies was Bobby.   In the summer Bobby and I would make the rounds of the neighbors gardens.  Whatever was growing, we would “harvest” a little of it.  We would get all sorts of vegetables in various stages of maturity.  We would find potatoes, corn, beans, peas, cabbage, carrots and many other vegetables.   We took whatever was available and made our own version of Hobo Stew.

After we had amassed a   collection of these treasures, we would find an old 5 pound coffee can, usually rusted and dirty.  While Bobby collected wood and made a fire, I would clean the can, punch 2 holes in the rim opposite each other and thread a wire hanger through the holes and make a handle.

We cleaned the vegetables and filled the can with them and water.  Sometimes we would sneak a small piece of meat from leftovers in our homes and add that to our concoction.  Once the fire had burned down a bit and we had hot glowing coals, we would hang the can of food from sticks that Bobby had fashioned into a tripod over the coals.  About a half hour later we would eat our “stew”.  It was delicious and we were very proud of ourselves.   It was our secret and we said we would never tell anyone.

Fifty years later when I did tell my mother about these adventures, she told me that she, Bobby’s mother and the neighbors were aware of what we were up to and would watch us to make sure we didn’t burn something down or hurt ourselves.  I was never aware of it at the time.

Kevin was 10 1/2 at the time and was full of energy and excited about almost everything.  He would discuss almost any topic with great enthusiasm and ask questions for hours on end.  At least I would not be bored during the drive.   In retrospect, bored was never an option during that trip. 

We left Rhinelander Wisconsin and headed for Minnesota with the idea of fishing at Mille Lacs Lake, a well known place for great fishing.   We spent a day fishing and caught a few small fish.   From there we went to Mobridge in the heart of South Dakota where we fished another day.  The winds were very high that day and we did not catch a thing.  Fishermen’s luck was not in our favor, but we had a great time.

We drove from there to Mount Rushmore where we joined thousands of other tourists and admired the great sculptures carved into the mountain.  We continued on through the Black Hills National Forest and saw herds of elk and buffalo in the distance.   Descending from the Black Hills, we came onto the eastern plains of Wyoming.  It was not long before we began seeing pronghorns and prairie dog towns everywhere.  At one prairie dog town we watched as pronghorns grazed around the area and a coyote hunted for lunch.  We watched for nearly a half hour, but he never was able to chase something down. 

We drove through the Thunder Basin National Grasslands to the little town of Edgerton.  We had to wait at the gas pump for about 10 minutes while they switched pumps.  We were the first car at the newly opened pump and we received 13 gallons.  As it turned out it was 13 gallons of water and not gasoline.   Driving away, I went about 15 feet before the car died.  The man at the pump seemed to know immediately what the problem was.  He got under the car and checked the gas line and saw it was all water.  They immediately took responsibility.  They put us up at a local motel, had us towed to Casper to a dealer where the entire gas line from the engine back to the tank was replaced at no cost to us.  I cannot say enough about the honesty and character of the people I met there. 

From Casper we drove to Yellowstone National Park.  Along the way we stopped in the middle of the highway twice.  Once for a Golden Eagle in the middle of the other lane perched atop a kill it had just made.  I opened the window just in time for it to hiss at us from about 4 feet away.    The second time was for a huge elk that was in the middle of the road with a broken back. It could only move its huge head and horns.  I had nothing I could use to put it out of it misery.  I drove on and we passed a truck going the other way and the driver waved at us, I hoped that he knew about the elk and assumed he was about to end the elk’s suffering.

We spent a long day and saw all the usual sights in Yellowstone.  By now we were anxious to get home and from there we drove and talked and saw the sights, but did not stop and spend any more time.  This was a great trip and I relive it in my mind often.

The most memorable part of the trip happened back at Mille Lacs Lake when we were done fishing.   On our way to the motel for the evening we stopped at a grocery store for snacks.  On the way back to the car Kevin bent over and picked up something.  When we got to the car, he showed me.  It was over $200, a credit card, drivers Licence and Golf Club membership held together with a rubber band.   He said, “I’m going to keep it”.  I shrugged my shoulders and waited.  For a while he talked about what he was going to do with the money but after a long silence he said. “No, I’m going to give it back.” 

Over the next three hours he went back and forth with these same two thoughts.  He asked me what he should do and I told him it was his decision. He called his mother and she wisely said it was his decision.  Finally he got the telephone and called the phone number listed on the Golf Club membership card.  There was no answer, but he left his name and our motel number and room number.  Boy was I proud.  He had made his decision and it was a good one.

Within an hour we got a return call from the gentleman that lost the card.  He was in the area and came to the motel where we met him and Kevin returned his belongings.  The man took the $100 bill that was in the rubber band and handed it to Kevin and shook his hand and thanked him.   He explained that he was an educator for major corporations and taught business and personal ethics.  He said he now had a new lecture he could give concerning personal ethics.   I believe that day was a defining moment in Kevin’s life and his sense of self.   For a young person of only 10 1/2, he demonstrated the character of honesty and decency that he has maintained as an adult.  I still brag about him.

Whenever I am in this part of the State of Jefferson, and time permits, I like to take this drive.   A word of caution, this road is not maintained in the winter and then is only accessible to snow mobiles.   Snowplows will usually block the entrance to the road during the winter.

When the snows are gone and the weather is nice, this road will provide you much scenery.  Bring the camera.   Entering from highway 140 just west of Fish lake you will encounter the flanks of Brown Mountain.  Brown Mountain certainly is an appropriate name.  This is the remains of a volcanic outpouring and is a stark barren landscape.   I have heard it referred to as a cinder cone.  Ha!  These cinders are huge!

Soon you will come upon Butte Creek which flows from Fish Lake.   Here there are tall trees and places to park.   You should take this opportunity to stretch your legs and look around.   A short distance further down the road is the Elk Ranger station, a historical landmark.

Continuing down the road you will encounter Brown Mountain Road (NFD 3705) branching off to your left.  This is a single lane paved road that wanders across the crest of the mountain meadows.   Follow it and it will wind for a few miles in some of the most peaceful  landscape around.   You will pass camp sites and hiking trails along the way.   Take your time and enjoy the mountain air.  If you follow this paved road, it will change names a few times, but eventually you will come out onto Dead Indian Highway.

If you are a hiker, you may be interested in hiking the Brown Mountain Trail.   This trail, about six miles in length, intersects with the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail that runs from Mexico to Canada.

For more about the State Of Jefferson see The Mythical State

About 20 plus years ago the wife and her sisters got together in California for a fun time together.  Rose and Bobby came together but Roger couldn’t get away.   Anita and I were already here and so were Linda and Bill.

As you all know, when the ladies are together – well, lets just say it is impossible to get a word in edgewise.  So after a few days of listening to their stories, the boys needed to get away.

I don’t know who suggested it – probably the ladies cooked it up just to get rid of us – but suddenly a plan evolved for the boys to spend the weekend in Las Vegas.  Our wives were so much in favor of it that I am convinced they just wanted us out of the house. The anticipation of an adventure had us all interested and soon we were driving to Vegas.

Since Bill and I had work responsibilities we departed in the evening and drove the nearly 5 hours to “The Strip”.  Now, you need to understand that this was the “old” Vegas.  It was before they really cleaned up the town, got rid the mob, cracked down on the prostitute population, and began encouraging families to come there.

We arrived about 1 am. and Bill headed straight to his favorite casino so we could begin the fun.  He drove into the somewhat darkened parking lot and wound around the aisles looking for a parking spot.  Finding one he pulled into it and parked.  Anxious to stretch our legs after such a long ride, the three of us immediately began heading to the casino.  We had taken, maybe, as many as a dozen steps when from out of nowhere we each had a prostitute tugging on our arm and telling us all the wonderful things they were going to do for us.  It was amazing how quickly they materialized out of nowhere. It still amazes me.  Concerned for our safety <ggg> we rejected their overtures and continued into the casino where the massive loss of funds began.

The next day Bill had us in an old beat up motel he had been coming to for years.  Not quite the stylish, modern, and ritzy palaces one thinks of as being Vegas.  More like downtown, any old town USA.  But it sure fit into the kind of weekend we were having.

There must have been a prostitute convention in town!  Everywhere we went we were propositioned.  We would stop the car at a stop light and while we were waiting for the light to change we would be under siege!   A prostitute or two would jump off of the curb and come up to the car and proposition us.  It quickly became a joke.  My guess is that we were accosted at least a dozen times.  Just wandering around the casino I got hit on and so did Bill and Bob.  At the service bar ordering a drink there was another prostitute.  I can only imagine how many diseases we avoided that weekend.

Meanwhile we were all losing and so finally it was time to go.  As we were walking out Bill asked Bob and I how much money we had left.  When we told him he said “I have $40, lets take it all and go flush it down the toilet and eliminate the middle man”! That has been one of my favorite comments ever since.

A moment later, just as we were walking out, Bill said, “wait a minute”.  He took out his credit card and went to the cashier and got a hundred dollar chip.  He walked up to the crap table and bet the chip and won, bet that and won again and then lost several times.  He finally cashed in a profit for the weekend and we left Vegas and drove back to our wives and thus the legend was made.  I have been back to Vegas dozens of times since, and that trip is still my favorite.

A little diner attracted me
I lunched on my favorite breakfast, An omelet
Filled with bacon, cheese and onions
Covered with salsa and Tabasco
No bagel though, this was a rustic eatery

My waitress, whom I greatly admired
And complimented with a question
“How can such a beauty as you lack a ring on her finger?”
Sadly she replied that her husband of ten years died last year
Embarrassed by the now revealed rudeness of my question

I drew her to me and told her of my son
Gone for now these many painful years
She paused in her chores and reached for my hand
And soothed me with understanding words
And emotions

We parted and I left
Shaken I took a round-about way back home
The constant drizzle and dreary skies
Echoed my mood

About a mile from home
A figure before me on the road
A young girl
With no rain coat or hat
Just slacks and a soaking wet sweater

Her thumb was out
Normally I pass such people
But this was in the middle of nowhere
I inquired, “Can I help?”
“Please drive me to the City” she responded pleadingly

I opened the door and in she jumped
“What to do?” I pondered
She told a cock and bull story of her plight
Jennifer she gave as her name, or was it Jessica
I wasn’t paying attention

My mind was occupied with wondering if I had erred in picking her up
Fourteen she gave as her age
Although physically she appeared older
Her face was that of a fourteen year old

I drew her out with talk of schools and family
She spoke of her Mother with affection
They were friends she said
Her Father was gone from their lives

She seemed quite real except for her story
A fairy tale of abduction
But she had not been assaulted and was unharmed she said
She did not want the police involved

I told her I did not believe her
But I felt that she was and would be okay
The twenty mile ride quickly was over
Her clothes had dried

She said she wanted to walk home
Her Mother would be disturbed that she had taken a ride from a stranger
I dropped her near the youth center and returned home
Wondering all the while and still
About this wonderful, painful and mysterious life