The Rolla Boys™- Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The personalities in the ongoing story of "The Rolla Boys™", are in fact real people. I've chosen to slightly alter the spelling of these names in an effort to protect the true identities of the real life characters I grew up with in the 1960's and 70's. I personally know/knew the vast majority of people who will appear in my story, although occasionally I might write about someone I knew more through acquaintance than close friendship. I have no plans to intentionally incriminate anyone, however, incrimination is largely subjective. If you think you recognize yourself in this or any future writing and prefer your true identity not be revealed, I won't tell anyone who you are if you promise you won't tell anyone. Also, the characterization of people I recall from my childhood but knew primarily from a distance or from their reputation, are accurate and in my opinion, completely fair (based on my memory).

About mid afternoon on Friday October 10, 2003, I received a call from my old friend Steven Ray Moses, telling me he was on Highway 62 East and headed my way. I knew from the landmarks he'd conveyed he was within 25 minutes of the property and would be there soon.
As a note, growing up in Rolla, Missouri, the use of landmarks was critical as it related to giving directions. With the exception of my Dad and his friends Harold Chase and Don Bairdman, no one I knew had any idea of the names of streets in our town, not counting of course the one they lived on, Pine, 10th, and maybe Kings Highway. We gave directions like, "You know that corner where Gordon Startle threw up homecoming night....", or "...if you're on that street that runs into the Kroger parking lot, you go past Snoopy's, turn right at the stop sign on the other side of the laundromat, go over the old wooden bridge and it's just down the bottom of the hill. If you see the house with the dead cat in the front yard, you've gone too far.
This drove my Dad nuts. As a dedicated and professional man of the RPO (Rolla Post Office), he knew not only the names of every street in town, he could also tell you the precise mailing address of everyone in Rolla and most of Phelps County. My brothers and I didn't even know our zip code until we were in the 4th or 5th grade-something to this day Dad refuses to talk about and Mom just says, "Oh you did to!"
Back to the story.....
I strapped on a Colt .45 for affect (the gun not the malt liquor), hopped on my 4-wheeler and headed west for the front gate (at that time we had 2 gates, a red gate and a blue gate, but the blue gate got ran over by an ambulance a few years ago in an unrelated matter, and no longer exist).
As I stood outside the front gate admiring the dubious and eclectic collection of rusty old cars, dilapidated RV's and non-functioning large appliances in Stringly's front yard, I wondered; at what point does a man say to himself, "From now on, instead of throwing old worn out crap away like normal folks are inclined to do, I'm just gonna start putting the stuff in the yard. I know it might make more sense to take this half empty 55 gallon drum of axle grease and that old couch to the dump, but it'll be a lot easier if I just put 'em right here in the yard."
Sidebar: What kind of Babbit brings a wrench in from the garage, disconnects his washer from it's location of 12-15 years, and finds a neighbor drunk enough to talk into coming over and helping him move his washer from the house to the yard. I can vividly imagine that verbal exchange:

Babbit: "Hey Cletis, would you have time to stop by and help me move my washer?"
Cletis: "Sure Babbit. Let me finish this 24 oz can of Old Milwaukee Light and I'll be right over. Oh, where are we moving it to?"
Babbit: "I want to move it to the front yard, between the pile of tin cans and Grandma's old Norge."
Cletis: "Wouldn't it be easier to throw it off the back porch?"
Babbit: "Yah, but it'll look better if we throw it off the front porch."

Where was I? Oh yah, now I remember....
Soon after I arrived at the gate, I saw a slightly banged up older model blue Toyota Jinx Mobile barrel around the corner with the windows rolled down and Brewer and Shipley blaring, "One Toke Over The Line". I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the first Rolla Boy had arrived, and of course, it was "The Beave".

The Rolla Boys™- Chapter 3

I remember being pretty excited about the first official get together at our new and nearly completed log cabin. The fact the group would be comprised exclusively of guys I'd grown up with and in some cases had not seen in years, made the anticipation on my part that much greater. Not all the old friends I'd invited were able to make this first reunion, but I was confident there'd be enough diversity (sorry Nancy Polosi, I'm referring primarily to personalities; not nationality or sexual orientation) to have some quality campfire conversation based largely on memories of an array of wild and ridiculous things we did, or at least thought we did back in the old days.
The cabin was not yet furnished as there was some remaining inside carpentry work yet to be completed. Our sitting and sleeping accommodations consisted primarily of folding camp chairs and aluminum camp cots made in China but purchased at Walton Mart. What would eventually be a wrap around redwood deck was at the present a temporary affair constructed primarily out of left over plywood from the subfloor and roof. It would do nicely however for holding 5 Goomers and a 2 burner propane stove (made in China but purchased at Bass Pro) which would soon be pulling duty for cooking up the first batch of now famous "Ranch Chile".
Note: if your name is Kevin "Cool" Coolile and you find yourself bunking immediately over Victor DaWatt, you might consider Ranch Chile more infamous than famous. Cool however is a fast learner, and by the second night of our reunion had decided he'd be substantially more comfortable sleeping outside in the rain and under a rock.
Over the course of a few afternoons in early October, I had things in order and ready for the first ever "Rolla Boy Reunion at The Ranch". The fire pit was complete, with enough firewood standing by to burn down Chicago (for a second time); ammunition was stockpiled for target shooting and for use in a fire fight in the unlikely event we found ourselves in the position of having to defend ourselves against an onslaught of Barry County Al-Qaeda (unlike some of our friends in Washington, most of the people I know prefer we defend ourselves on the field of battle instead of in a court room, when it comes to nut whacks who want to murder us in our sleep) and groceries had been purchased including plenty of ingredients for an extra large batch of Ranch Chili. All I had to do now, was meet these Goomers at the front gate on the coming Friday evening of October 10th, and make sure they had permission from their wives to stay up past 10:00!

The Rolla Boys™- Chapter 2

In January of 2003, I started building the infrastructure that would eventually support a dream I'd had since I was in my 20's-a log cabin deep in the woods, ideally in the middle of nowhere particular. I'd purchased land with my brother Larry in 1997, but he eventually lost interest and sold his half of the 160 acres to a good friend of mine, Greg "Magnus" Samson.
While Magnus and I sat talking about log cabins one evening over an icy cold beverage, it hit me that if I was ever going to fulfill my nearly life long dream, I had to at some point pull the trigger and take the first step. As a result of that realization, I shortly after hired local dirt man Raymond Stringly to clear the building site, some good Ol' Missouri Boys out of Cassville to dig a well (960 feet deep), and I started clearing and digging a 2400' long utility easement (over the hills and through the woods of course) with my trusty Husqvarna Model 51 chain saw and a big butted 38hp Vermeer Trencher I'd rented from a local equipment dealer. I was a brush clearing and ditch digging son-of-a-gun I was!
Toward the end of that Summer as we neared completion of the cabin, I decided to try to get some of these old hometown boys to come down and hang out for a weekend at my new place in the woods. Since I'd re-established contact with a handful of these Goomers the past few years, I thought it might be fun to get those guys out for a couple days and nights to sit around a camp fire, eat some chili, blast a few caps and perhaps rehash stories of some of the mostly ridiculous stuff we did while growing up in Rolla, Mo in the 1960's and 70's.
I settled on October 10-12 as a good time for our get-together. The leaves would be changing, the moon would be close to full and we'd have a good chance of decent weather.
One evening around the middle of August, I sat at home and made phone calls to 6 or 7 of my old friends, inviting them down for the get together the following month. I received the somewhat anticipated response of "I can't make it Rob because....", from one of my best friends of all-time, a guy named Randy Warrenton, who I've called Ran-dell ever since I can remember and whom I've known since grade school at Fort Wyman Elementary; one response of, "Man I'd like to Russell but I'm really busy here with my business" from my great old friend Jack Craig who I've known since 7th grade; and 4 responses that went something like, "I'll be there buddy-I wouldn't miss it for the world!".
Those 4 guys along with myself comprised the inaugural group and first official post high school gathering of "The Rolla Boys™". They included, Steven Ray "The Beaver" Moses, Kevin "Cool" Carmile, Vic "Victor" Day-Vault (as our one and only and larger than life 8th grade football coach, Coach Kinder called him) and Craig "Howard" France.
After a 25 year hiatus, The Rolla Boys™ would soon be together again, telling old lies and making up plenty of new ones!

The Rolla Boys™-Chapter 1

The basis for causing me to reflect on my past and current good friendships, came out of my 20 year high school reunion in the summer of 1998. I was visiting with a group of old friends and class mates at the home of Kevin Starling (since this blog is open to the world, I'll change last names to protect the guilty) and someone commented that it was a shame 10 years had passed since the majority of us had seen each other. I made the observation that at the rate we were going, most of us would see one another 3 more times in our life time, assuming we all attended the next 3 class reunions and everyone reached life expectancy. Steve Smitts commented that we really needed to make an effort to get together at least once a year because, "Stuff was going to start happening"; meaning, people were going to start dying. Unfortunately he was right-we've since lost 3 class mates I'm aware of.
It was at that point that Steven Ray Moses (one of my oldest and dearest friends on the planet) and I agreed that it wouldn't do to see each other just once every 10 years or so, especially considering we only lived a couple of hours apart and we'd been good friends since the 4th grade. I realized how ridiculous it was that we'd gotten together only a handful of times since leaving our mutual home town 20 years ago to seek our individual fame and fortune.
As a result of that conversation, I now make the long and dangerous 2 hour trip to the back country of Muskogee, Oklahoma at least once a year or so to visit my good friend Steve. If I get there early enough, I always find him at home going through his morning ritual of reading the bible and drinking himself silly on "hotter than fried whale snot black coffee". We usually shoot the manure until noon before hitting his favorite local barbeque joint* for lunch and me returning home. This get together has now become a semi annual ritual, and through it I've come to the realization of how amazingly simple it is to create new memories with old friends!

In a future installment of The Rolla Boys™, I'll profile this old guy known far and wide in the day as...."Beaver".
*For the record, Steve's favorite barbeque joint is any barbeque joint that's open and has some food.