Bear Tales!

-Matt, Alex & Tyler after dinner in the Gull Cove Lodge

After fishing for a short while we headed back to the lodge for supper and to spend some time hanging out with everyone before hitting the sack for the night. We tied up the skiff, stowed our gear back on the big boat Yakobi, and walked up the gang plank to the lodge. As we entered through the front door, we were greeted by a nice fire in the wood stove and the enticing aroma of supper coming from the kitchen. Eddie, Matt and Paul were sitting at the oversized kitchen table while Ricky played with a toy truck and Alice busied herself drawing and coloring. Just a few feet away Tamie was putting the finishing touches on a dish that turned out to contain more than ample quantities of delectable salmon and crab meat (the real stuff; fresh...never frozen!).

We ate a wonderful meal and afterward relaxed while the 3 teenage lads played cards and laughed at fish-tales told by their new friend "Yard".
Paul told us he thought it would be a good idea to spend most of our first full day fishing for Silvers. He knew of a good spot about an hour boat ride away that he was confident would produce good results. "Ya never know for sure, but I think we've got a very good chance of catching fish tomorrow", he assured us.

-Paul surveys the weather from the lodge deck the morning of our first day

He then ran through a list of options of how we could spend the next four days; a list of things to experience while in Alaska. These activities had no doubt been a big part of Paul's life from the time he was a boy growing up there until the present day.  

The King Salmon run was all but over for this part of the state and because of that he told us we'd spend our time focussing on Silver Salmon and Dolly Vardin Trout. He said we should also be able to catch enough Halibut on our trip to fill at least a couple of 80 pound "take home boxes" with fresh caught fillets. Although the bigger Halibut were usually caught later in the season, he said we should be able to catch our fill of smaller ones. We were up for all that as well as anything else he had in mind.

-Relaxing after dinner....Tamie's kitchen in the background

I recall watching the boys out of the corner of my eye as Paul described our outdoor plans. I thought it was cool that Tyler and Matt where getting this experience; meeting new friends was a bonus. Had they not came on this trip they would have never met Alex (Yard) or the Johnson family. We've stayed in touch with the Johnson's since we first met them on this trip. Paul and Tamie have never failed to send us a Christmas card each year sporting the newest photo of their family. It's been fun watching Rick and Alice grow up in their annual Christmas photo. I'm glad we met them and look forward to one day going back to experience more "Wild Alaska With The Johnsons" (sounds like a History Channel TV show--I may be onto something here)!

-View from the Johnson boat dock

 Tamie told us what time to expect breakfast and Paul told us to be prepared for the "best pancakes we'd ever had!" I thought that sounded pretty good and with that we retired to our cabins for the evening.

Tyler hadn't been in bed very long before he was sound asleep (he'd never had any trouble sleeping as far as I knew and our first night in Gull Cove seemed to be no exception). I lay there on my side for a long time looking out at the ocean and surrounding coastline. Even at 10 o'clock in the evening it was still light enough outside for someone with relatively young eyes to read a book.

-A late July evening at Gull Cove, Alaska

As I lay there wide awake in my bed thinking about the next day, I realized it wasn't as if we were on the verge of discovering the north pole, but it still felt like an adventure. I was feeling a fair level of satisfaction for having put it together. Eddie had told me how much he appreciated being a part of this. He too realized this might be the last chance in a long time to do something like this with his oldest son.

I finally drifted off to sleep and other than one middle of the night bathroom call, slept soundly. I woke up early the following morning ready to go. After a quick shower we got dressed and walked the short distance to the lodge. 

We were eagerly greeted by just about all members of the Johnson gang, including Paul's oldest son Tim. As we ate a wonderful breakfast featuring Tamie's world famous sour dough pancakes, crab-cheese-eggs and sausage, Tim filled us in on a personal encounter he'd recently had with a big brown bear. 

One evening the previous deer season he was walking back to the lodge when to his complete surprise he walked up on an unsuspecting Brown Bear who was apparently just as surprised as Tim. As it turned out, the bear was not at all glad to see the young hunter and before Tim had time to think of a plan of action, the beer lunged and took a serious swipe at him. 

Tim instinctively threw himself backward to get out of the way and as he did he tripped and feel into a depression in the forest floor that was partially covered by a fallen tree. The bear lunged at him, growling and swiping wildly with both paws in an apparent attempt to equalize the intruder. About as quickly as the bear had attacked, it turned and walked away, likely realizing Tim was not a serious threat. He told us if it hadn't been for falling into that depression and the protection of the fallen tree, he was confident he would have been mauled by the bear...or worse. Thank God the bear didn't have cubs.

-One of several Brown Bears we saw on our 2 trips

After hearing this story I was glad I'd made the decision to arm Tyler and myself with adequate fire power. Eddie's not a gun guy and hadn't brought a fire arm or even a can of bear spray (like the stuff highly recommended by folks who don't like guns and other folks who are apparently naive about bears). I'd brought along a third handgun for Eddie to carry and offered it to him before heading out on the boat our first morning. He turned it down with a smile that conveyed he was "pretty sure we wouldn't be needing that little thing".
My good friend would find himself second guessing that decision in a couple of days. I wound up getting a huge kick out of that!  

-My good friend Eddie smiling like a possum!

Alaska Update...

I just realized I have several more pictures of our first Alaska trip that aren't in my iPhoto library. I'm in the process of getting them on an SD card and into my computer, so I can include more of them in the additional upcoming post on our Alaska adventures. Thanks for reading and tune in tomorrow for "Bear Tales"....it has bears in it!

-Tyler...looking for bears in July 2000

First Night at Gull Cove

The cabins at Gull Cove

Our cabin was approximately 16'x20' and contained two twin beds, a small couch and a bathroom. It sat back 25 yards or so from the waters edge with a spectacular view of the ocean and surrounding landscape. It was warm, comfortable and homey, and by all appearances seemed more than capable of serving it's intended purpose. The four of us settled in and a few minutes later met back at the lodge to discuss the overall game plan for the next few days. By now it was well into the evening, but thanks to the long Alaska summer days there was still quite a bit of daylight left. Paul told us we could just hang out the remainder of the evening and relax before supper or if we wanted, we could go stream fishing for salmon. Yard said he'd be glad to take us if we wanted to go. The 4 of us were pretty tired from the past 2 days of traveling and exploration, but I figured I hadn't come all this way to sit around and drink coffee. After a brief discussion, Tyler and I decided to go while Eddie and Matt stayed behind to relax and enjoy the hospitality of our mutual new friends. They were good with waiting till morning to experience their first Alaska wilderness water adventure.

Tyler in an 18' Lund Skiff pulling into the dock

We walked down to the end of the boat dock and loaded our fishing equipment into one of the two skiffs, compliments of the Lund boat company (I should point out that what Alaskans call a skiff, is known in my home state of Missouri as a V-Hull). We jumped in and were quickly headed out across the cove toward the local stream Paul had suggested  

As we bounced across the water in our small craft powered by a 25 horse Yamaha outboard, I was in awe of our surroundings. Everything was beautiful and pristine, just like I'd imagined it would be.

We hadn't been on the water more than a few minutes, still in full view of our camp, when an enormous hump back whale broke the water's surface not more than 30 or 40 yards immediately in front of our skiff. Coming up for air, it rolled the full length of it's massive body and with a last second flick of it's enormous tail, dove back down apparently to continue on with what it was doing before we'd came along. What a spectacular site! I told Tyler that if we turned around right now and went back home to Arkansas, this trip had already been worth the time, money, and effort. It was a spectacular site to experience close up. I would consider anything cool from that point on a bonus; we would have many, many bonuses!

One of the many Hump Back Whales we would see on our trip

We continued on around the point and down the rocky coastline for maybe 15 minutes or so before running our boat up on the bank and tying to one of the many available rocks. We were quick to get our lines in the water in hopes of catching fish. Tyler and I each caught our first salmon and Yard caught and released 2 or 3 himself. We fished up the stream about 50 yards or so, constantly on the look out for hungry bears. Everyone says brown bears will leave you alone when the salmon are running, but I'm just not that trusting of bears or for that matter any beast with teeth the size of fingers and claws capable of ripping the rib cage out of a 2000 pound moose. For that reason, I was armed with a .454 Casull hand gun and Tyler was packing a .44 mag for back up. I wouldn't want to have to rely on a handgun in a life threatening situation with an 800 pound brown bear, but I'd like to at least have the option. Counting on a carnivorous wild animal to "...leave you alone if the salmon are running and you keep a safe distance", seems naive to me. In my opinion, a safe distance from an Alaskan coastal brown bear....would be Bentonville, Arkansas.

Gull Cove, Alaska

We landed on a calm stretch of ocean protected on three sides by surrounding land and by a big island that ran parallel with the lodge a mile or so to the west. As we climbed down from our plane, we were greeted by a friendly looking chap who looked as if he could have been captain on the whale ship Pequod, had he been born a fictional book character and lived 150 years or so earlier. He was of stout proportions, dressed in regalia that reflected the likeliness he worked outdoors for a living. He sported a classic shipman's salt and pepper beard that partially hid his friendly round face and wore rubber boots that were well broken in. The big man had a warm smile that suggested he was sincerely glad we were there. He introduced himself as Paul Johnson and welcomed us to Gull Cove.
Standing on the dock along side Paul, was Alex, a Johnson family friend from Seattle. He was Paul's 17 year old deck hand and assistant and this was his job for the Summer.

                                          -Tami, Paul and Alex

After helping us unload our gear, Paul and Yard led us up the ramp to the lodge where we laid down our bags just inside the sturdy front door.
Out from a store room off to the side of the kitchen walked a friendly blond headed gal who'd apparently been hurrying herself with last minute preparations as her newest guest arrived. Paul introduced her as his lovely wife Tami and she too made us feel sincerely welcome. Tami had a slight northern accent that suggested she might originally be from Wisconsin or Minnesota and handled herself in a way that told us she was born to make folks feel comfortable, welcome, and immediately at home.



-Ricky Ricardo

We noticed a young lad sitting on top the refrigerator who appeared to be somewhere between 5 and 6 years of age. Paul called to him to come down and meet the visitors. The miniature man reluctantly jumped from the fridge to the counter top a few feet down from where he'd been sitting, before pouncing a second time onto the kitchen floor. Paul said, "Guys, this is our son Ricky!". Ricky looked us over, apparently unimpressed with the new guys and quickly climbed back up to his preferred perch on the fridge.                          -Little Ricky

                                          -Alice in the Palace

Next we met little Alice, Ricky's younger sister. Alice looked a lot like her mom and although not completey impressed with our arrival, did seem somewhat more enthused about us being there than her older brother had. She gave us a smile as she showed us a future work of art she'd been busily crafting before we walked in. She sat back down at the table and proceeded as if there in fact hadn't been an interruption to her three year old world.
                                         
-Paul dressed for work
Paul showed us around the lodge and filled us in on the specific details of making ourselves at home. I noticed Ricky had climbed down from the fridge and was now standing in the living area in front of the wood stove. I broke away and went over to the young man to introduce myself one on one. I bent down and put my hands on my knees to get closer to his level and as I asked little Ricky how he was doing, he drew back his right arm and cold cocked me with a closed fist upside the face. My surprised head reacted to the blow by bending to the right and quickly back to center, like it was sitting on top one of those Fred Flintstone blow-up whacking bags they used to sell in the annual "Sears Wish Book" in the early 70's. Before I was able to completely gather my senses, "SMACK",  he whacked me again. "Little Ricky" then went for the apparent knock out blow, but this time I was ready; I caught his hand mid air, looked him in the eye and whispered, "Please don't do that again!"
He glanced down at my boots before looking me square in the eye, just long enough to convey that he was more than likely thinking, "I'm not afraid of you 'new guy'", before quickly climbing back up on top  the refrigerator. Before the day was out, I was referring to him as "Ricky Riccardo", a nick name that would stick from that point on.

After showing us around, Paul escorted us out of the lodge, down the gangway, around the corner and over to the two individual cabins where we'd be relaxing the next few nights...when we weren't fishing,  counting bears, whale watching, or just leisurely cruising around the Alaskan gulf coast on the Johnson whaling ship, "YAKOBI"!

Arriving Juneau

After retrieving our bags, we rented a car, checked into our room at the Juneau Best Western, and headed for downtown Juneau for a burger and a beverage. We hopped on a sky lift and headed to the top of the mountain to get a better view of the landscape. We settled in on the outside deck of the restaurant and sat for a while admiring the great view of the local mountain range. Eddie and I enjoyed a couple of micro brews that were conveniently kept on tap for visiting flat landers like us, while Tyler and Matt sipped their favorite soft drink in preparation for their upcoming college careers.
After dinner we walked around downtown Juneau taking in the local atmosphere and various tourist shops. None of the four of us had ever been to Juneau but were enjoying this new found land.

A while into our walking tour we heard music coming from inside what we soon found out was the renowned "Red Dog Saloon". As we unsuspectingly walked through the swinging doors, the music abruptly stopped and the goomer on stage looking down at us asks, "Hey there, where ya boys from?"
After a slight pause and obviously surprised by the attention, Eddie answers, "Bentonville, Arkansas". With a puzzled look on his face, the stage guy responds back inquisitively, "Bentonville, Arkansas?", to which the entire crowd yells out, "Bentonville, Arkansas....NO SH*T!", before bursting into spontaneous laughter.

NOTE: If you ever find yourself in Juneau, Alaska, take at least a half hour or so and saunter into the Red Dog Saloon like you own the place. I bet they still do the "Where ya guys from" gag and while there you can sample a Red Dog or two. If you don't like beer, you might just try one.

We awoke the following morning, gathered our gear and dropped the rental car off at the Juneau Airport. We soon boarded the small float plane compliments of the airline Paul Johnson-the guy we were going to see-had recommended. We were now air-born for the short 40 minute flight to Gull Cove, our final destination.
Shortly after departing Juneau, we saw nothing but water and wilderness from that point on. We were very excited as we glided over the numerous scattered patches of land that dotted the waters below and wondered in awe at the surrounding mountain-scape. It was obvious we were moving further and further from civilization with each passing minute as we neared our final destination of Gull Cove and of course the anticipation continued to build.
Just as we were getting accustomed to bouncing around the cabin of our small float plane, the pilot made a hard bank to the left and reported into the headset, "There she is boys....the Johnson Resort!"
I looked down to see a small lodge nestled at the back of an ocean inlet and 4 smaller cabins which obviously went with it. This would be our home and base of operation for the next few days. As I fondly recall, we were all very excited to be there!

Alaska-The State of Adventure!

Little boys grow up way too fast. One day he's running around the house playing "just one more game of tag-ball Dad" before asking for help buttoning up his feet pajamas and to be tucked into bed. The next thing you know, you're putting his bike in the attic and dropping him off at college. That's at least the way I remember it.

When our son Tyler was about half way through his junior year of high school I was hit with the realization that he'd soon be leaving home and beginning the first stage of manly independence. I figured the next few years would pass by in a blur and he'd be leaving school for the final time to begin a career and to marry the woman of his dreams. I decided the two of us needed one more adventure before he headed out on his own; something cool that might leave us both with lasting memories.
A friend had previously told me about a very nice fishing trip he'd taken in Southeast Alaska, so I contacted him to get the information. After talking with the owner of the guide service, Paul Johnson, I asked Tyler if he wanted to invite one of his friends. He did and we invited his good friend Matt and his Dad Eddie, who was also a friend of mine.
We planned out the details, set the dates and gave the trip several boxes on the calendar. I'm not a big planner but knew if we were going to make this trip actually happen we'd need to make it official with calendar's, deposits, and so on.
As the departure date drew closer, Eddie and I organized our gear, purchased a few additional items we thought we might need, and patiently waited for the last week of July while Tyler and young Matthew busied themselves with being 17.

The day finally arrived and our team of adventurers departed immediately after the wedding of our friends Mark and Christina. Several hours later we arrived at the Juneau Airport, exhausted from hauling all our gear around and from having gone through several random anal cavity searches at airport security (I'm confident these random searches were a direct result of the numerous firearms and bullets I'd brought along; I don't have much confidence in "bear spray" and can't imagine trusting my very life to a can of spray).
It was late on Saturday afternoon July 28, 2001 when we took this picture. I don't know exactly what was going through Tyler's mind or what the Frail boys were thinking as the unknown but agreeable airport visitor snapped this shot, but I remember thinking how much fun the next few days were going to be. I didn't know for sure what lay ahead but I had a strong feeling we were going to have a great time and see some cool stuff. As it turned out, over the next 5 days we saw and experienced what surely must be some of the truly wonderful sites and sounds available on planet earth, or at least in North America. It turned out to be a great time that I fondly remember as one of our very finest adventures to date!
I'll share some of the individual stories over the next several days, along with pictures of some of the things we experienced. I'll also include some stories about the Johnson Family--lead by one of Alaska's favorite son's, Paul Johnson.
Stay tuned; if you get bored between now and then I recommend watching re-runs of "Gold Rush" or the movie "Jeremiah Johnson"--he was a mountain man!

Some of the Best Things in Life are Free

The Murph's Surprise Fire Pit

As I stacked the final stone, I experienced the good feeling of satisfaction that goes along with building something with your own 2 hands. It wasn't the most impressive stone structure ever built, but I was pleased with the outcome. Adding to the feeling of satisfaction was the fact that I'd built it for our friends Joe and Cindee, and they had no idea I was doing it.

Joe had recently purchased a few acres on Beaver Lake and was putting together plans to build a long dreamed of family retreat there. I was thinking about this that late fall morning on my way out to our cabin with my K-9 Max. My intent that day was to check on things at our place and perhaps work on one of the myriad projects I had begun but not yet completed.
Just before reaching the highway 12 turnoff, it hit me that it might be fun to leave a personal mark on the Murph's property while they were away celebrating their wedding anniversary. With that in mind I cruised thru McDonald's for another cup of fresh brewed, custom blend, rich, bold and robust coffee before turning right and heading out to the Murph's place.

I arrived at Joe and Cindee's property and spent some time walking around considering the possibilities.  The lake was down several feet since I'd last seen it and as I walked the length of their property I couldn't help but notice the great quantity of large flat rocks newly exposed by the receding lake water. I saw those rocks as a nice resource and although I didn't know whether or not the Army Corp of Engineers had any specific rock rules, I figured it wouldn't hurt if I moved a hand full of them 20 or 30 yards and organized them into a circle that would hopefully end up looking like a nice spot to build a camp fire.

Some of the rocks I chose were way too heavy to lift and resulted in me invoking my long standing belief that "if you can move something an inch you can eventually move it a mile". With that idea in mind I managed to roll several large rocks over the bank and up the incline where I was able to push, shove, and eventually move them into place.
A little while into the project, the neighbor lady saw a vehicle parked next door that she apparently didn't recognize as friendly and walked down to inquire. When I told her who I was and what I was doing, she looked at me like I was from another planet before walking back up to her house and going back to whatever it was she was doing before I had interrupted her quiet morning time.

Later that day after just a few hours of rock rolling, dragging and stacking, my latest hand crafted project had come to fruition. I finished it off by building a rock bench, which rather nicely complimented the main structure. After a few minutes of admiring my handy work from various angles, I set my Nikon D5000 on a nearby rock and snapped a picture to chronicle the event.

I decided not to tell anyone about what I'd done that day and just wait until one of the Murphy clan stumbled onto it. Joe was surprised to find it a week or so later and after finding out I'd put it there he expressed how much he liked it. It was satisfying knowing I'd done a little something unexpected for some good friends. The knowledge that my efforts might one day be a catalyst for additional "lake time memories" for Joe, Cindee, and their ever growing extended family, was a nice bonus. And compliments of Mother Nature....none of this cost a dime!

He Scores!

A few years ago I was on our annual duck hunting trip just outside Stuttgart, Arkansas with a group of friends that included the guy you see in this picture--my great friend Tony.
Tony decided to hit the hay a little early this particular evening and as I'm prone to do, decided to mess with him a little bit. It's always enjoyable to have harmless fun at the other guy's expense-especially if it's a good friend with a sense of humor.
Once I was sure my good buddy was asleep (very few men are capable of snoring at this level while awake), I quietly brought a log in from outside the cabin, and very gently slipped it into bed next to my buddy. I kept thinking he'd wake up right away, but he went right on sawing logs like there was no tomorrow, apparently oblivious to the fact that he no longer had the bed all to himself.

After watching Tony and the log for quite some time and laughing ourselves to tears, the other guys and I eventually tired of the shenanigan and went to bed ourselves.
I lay there in the cabin darkness snickering to myself, wishing I could see the look on his face when he finally awoke to discover that not only was he the center of a redneck practical joke, but that he also had spent the first part of his first night at duck camp sleeping with a pretty good size chunk of wood in his bed.

Well, it took a while but eventually he rolled over, bounced around a little and muttered, "What the hell?" There was a brief pause before he turned on his flashlight in an obvious attempt to find out what the snot had made it's way into his bed. A second or two after his light came on, I heard the line I knew was eventually coming; "You dirty Rat B******!" That's when I knew the little gag had been well worth the effort. You see, in the rapscallion world of Tom-foolery, to get called "Rat B******" by my good friend Tony, is like listening to a championship basketball game over the radio and hearing the announcer scream out, "He drives, he shoots, HE SCORES!".

Lions, Tigers, and Missouri Bears...Oh My!

The Missouri Department of Conservation may or may not concur, but I know for a fact bears and mountain lions exist in the state of Missouri, from at least the south central part of the state to the southwest corner. I've only seen one Mountain Lion personally (south of Rolla in the winter of 1977 around Lane Springs), but I know several people who say they've seen them as well (3 different people over the course of about 15 years say they've seen one on our Barry County property).
Bears have been spotted as close as a mile away from our cabin, which sits about 4 miles as a crow flies southwest of Roaring River State Park. My good friends from Rolla (the C. "Howard" French family), watched a nice sized black bear cross State Highway 112 immediately in front of their car and mill around beside the road a few seconds before bounding into the safety of Missouri's Mark Twain National Forest.

Although I've yet to see my first Missouri bear, I have what I believe to be confirmation of their existence. The picture above was taken a couple of years ago. This corn feeder was destroyed by a critter with big teeth and big claws. It seems safe to assume it was either a bear or a 250 pound Raccoon. I ruled out a Mountain Lion, since they're carnivorous and not attracted to corn. The large holes were made by something with big teeth and the widely spaced claw marks confirm it was a good sized animal. The feeder had been knocked down and rolled or dragged about 75 yards from where it had previously been standing, before being torn open and the contents scattered and consumed. If Raccoons ran in packs I might consider them as a possible culprit, but again, these critters don't grow teeth and claws big enough to fit these prints.

Although by world standards it won't be earth shattering news, I think it's pretty cool to know we might one day actually get to see a bear while driving into or out of our cabin property on some early morning or late afternoon outing. It's probably more likely that one of our several game/security cameras will snap a picture in the middle of the night when bears are more active. Either way, I'm confident I'll be able to follow up this post one day soon with an actual picture of a Barry County Missouri bear. And when it happens, don't expect to see it on the 5 O'clock news: you'll have to read about it right here in "Old and Ridiculous"!

Simple Pleasures II

It doesn't get much better than bacon frying in an early morning fry pan. If it's been a while since you've woke up to the sound and aroma of bacon frying in a cast iron skillet, you need to make this happen as soon as possible. Life is full of simple pleasures like this if we'll take time to experience them. Here's how you go about it:

Take a cast iron skillet and put some bacon in it. Turn on your stove to slightly more than half power and wait for the bacon to begin frying. Turn occasionally until your bacon reaches your desired level of perfection. Pour a cup of steaming hot black coffee in your favorite coffee cup. Take a bite of bacon, chew, and wash down with black coffee. Repeat until gone.

If this doesn't make you feel real good, keep trying until it does. Once you get to the point that this makes you feel real good, it will become one of the greatest simple pleasures of your life. If you're lucky, it will remind you of your Grandma.

Summer Vacation

Of all the trips and vacations we took when I was growing up in the 1960's and '70's, the two weeks we spent camping across the western plains and throughout the great Rocky Mountains, was clearly the pinnacle of our family travels. Although we took several nice vacations that included trips to places like Dallas, Texas, New Orleans, and Silver Dollar City, nothing compared to our two week long camping trip the summer of 1970.

During that vacation, we saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time in our young lives, the Bad Lands of South Dakota, the awe-inspiring Teton Mountains, the site of Custer's Last Stand, the Crazy Horse monument, the raging Colorado River, and assorted National Parks and land marks too numerous to mention. If it had historical significance and lay somewhere between Missouri and Montana, the Robertson boys saw it first hand.

I vividly recall seeing several brown and black beers close up and personal from the safety of our car while driving through Yellow Stone National Park. We saw Elk, mule deer, buffalo, and just about every other critter that roamed the wilds of the western United States. We fished, hiked, waded, played in the snow, pulled off to take pictures at points of interest and sometimes, just drove around to find places like Devil's Tower or Spanky's Barber Shop.


But the thing I remember most about those 2 wonderful weeks, was camping out in our big Sears and Roebuck cabin tent. I remember the clang of the tent poles every night as my 2 brothers and I helped Dad put it together while Mom perepared supper on the Coleman stove. I remember the hiss of the Coleman lantern as it did it's nightly work of lighting our camp site. I recall blowing up air mattresses and rolling out our Sears sleeping bags so they'd be ready when Mom or Dad said, "Boys, time to hit the sack". I remember exploring around our various camp sites as if we were the first human beings to set foot in this new un-explored wilderness.  I'll never forget the time Mom came out of the bathroom at our Wyoming camp site and saw what she thought was a horse standing there and staring her in the eye (it turned out to be a cow Moose).
I remember lying in my sleeping bag at night when Dad turned out the lantern and listening to all the night sounds from the comfort and warmth of our family tent. I fondly recall waking up and going outside in the early morning to be greeted by the crisp clean mountain air and walking through the sometimes frost-covered grass on the way to the bathroom, intent on creating the illusion of having taken a shower.

One of my greatest memeories of all time is the sound and aroma of bacon frying in the skillet sitting on top that old Coleman 2 burner stove. I recall the distinct sound of eggs cracking as Mom banged them on the side of the skillet. And of course the best part, sitting on the ground or on a near by pic-nic table with my family, eating a camp fried breakfast of bacon and eggs. The only part I didn't like was having to clean everything up and pack it all back into the trunk of our '69 Plymouth. Knowing how Moms and Dads are, however, I'm sure they actually did most of the work while Larry, Mark and I carried out our final explorations prior to departing for our next destination.

When I think about those 2 weeks we spent as a young family camping from our humble Missouri home all the way to Wyoming and back, I can't imagine a better way to have spent the first part of our 1970 Summer vacation, or a more meaningful and fun memory created for 3 young boys growing up in small town America. As the narrator in the opening segment of the movie "Jerimial Johnson would have said: "You kain't go no better"!    

Simple Pleasures

Today I read the obituary of a man who died young, at age 44.  His name was Johnny. I was struck by the simplicity of how Johnny apparently lived his life.
The write-up said he was employed by a baking company for many years. It went on to say he enjoyed going to the creek in the summer, spending time with his family, and watching "Storage Wars" on TV.
Now I don't mean to imply there's anything wrong with a person who spends their life trying to change the world, but personally, I seem to be more impressed on average with people like Johnny. Of all the potential things his family might have mentioned in the brief summation of their departed loved one's life, they chose to honor him by mentioning that among all the things Johnny enjoyed, he just liked going down to the creek in the summer.
I don't know how you can not have an appreciation for a guy like that.
Thank goodness for people like Colin Powell, Mother Theresa, and Donald Trump, but if push comes to shove, I think I would just like to be more like Johnny.

The Riley Brothers

When I started the 1st grade, we lived in California, Missouri and I attended the only elementary school in town. We moved back to my home town of Rolla over the Thanksgiving break, so I actually only attended school there about 3 months. Although I was a very short term member of what would eventually become the CHS graduating class of 1977, I'll never forget those kids, especially a kid named Kent Riley.

Kent had a twin brother named Keith. Keith was bigger than Kent but they both had a flat top and dressed alike, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt they were indeed twins.
I had a flat top too, in fact, I think most of the boys in our school had a flat top. It was 1965 and flat tops were apparently in. That, or they were out and we were just not up with the times. That's a possibility considering California then had a population of less than 3000 people. In or out, it was a nice place to live for a kid growing up in the 60's.

On my last day of school there (which would be the last day I ever attended a class in the California, Missouri R1 school system), I vividly remember playing in the foyer with Kent, Keith, and our mutual friend Brad, while waiting for my parents to pick me up from school. I don't recall what we were playing, but I do remember laughing and carrying on like 6 year old boys are prone to do.
I looked up from whatever we were doing and saw my parents pull up to the sidewalk immediately in front of the side entrance to the school. We all stopped playing and just stood there silently for what seemed like several seconds. I remember the feeling of "this is it"--I was walking out the door and moving to a town that, although only 80 miles away, might as well have been 800 miles away from the perspective of a 6 year old kid.

I recall the distinct feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to say in a situation like this, but ended up saying something to the affect of "See you later guys", as I pushed open the door and started walking down the sidewalk toward our 1959 Chevy Bel Air. As I opened the car door, I turned around and looked back at the school. Standing inside the foyer with his face and hands pressed up against the side glass, was my good friend Kent. He was crying profusely-just like a 6 year old small town school boy. I remember I started crying too and after all these years, I can still see that image of Kent as clearly as if it were yesterday.
That was the latter part of November, 1965 and probably on a Wednesday afternoon, considering we moved away over Thanksgiving. It was the last time I ever saw my buddy Kent.

Kids are resilient and I bounced back, going on to finish out my grammar, Jr. High, and High School career in Rolla, Missouri. Kent and Keith went on to finish their prep school careers in California, according to my Aunt Dee, and Kent has since been a life long resident of Central Missouri.
Over the years, I've wondered from time to time whether or not Kent, his brother Keith, and any of our other mutual friends from Miss Cooks 1965 1st grade class remember me. It's highly possible none of them do, considering my short time there as their class mate, exactly 47 years ago.

Whether or not my old buddy Kent recalls the skinny flat topped kid who moved away less than half way through the first grade, doesn't matter all that much now is suppose, but one things for sure; I still remember him.

Life Goes On

As mentioned previously, my adoring wife (she adores me more with each passing day) allowed me to build a little log cabin a few years ago on our Barry County property in Southwest, Missouri. We only have 87 acres but we're on the back side of it and bordered on 2 sides by the Mark Twain National forest. In this picture the foreground is ours and the hills in the background belong to you, the tax payer.   While I'm thinking about it, I'd like to thank you for your contribution. Your annual involuntary donation makes it possible for us to feel like we have 10,087 acres, instead of just 87. For those who aren't good with math or don't know what an acre feels like, suffice to say your ongoing support makes a substantial difference.

We just completed our 10th annual "Rolla Boy Reunion" at the cabin this past weekend and had a wonderful time as always. The above picture was taken behind our cabin Saturday morning, the 20th of October. It was an absolutely beautiful Fall morning.
Note: While I'm thinking about it, I'd like to give a shout out to God for His handy work in creating the awesome colors each Fall in these rocky old Missouri hills--excellent effort to say the least!

Due to a number of issues, several of our collective old friends and former attendees weren't able to make it this year. One of our guys lost his mother a few weeks ago at age 84 and another old friend lost his dad the first part of September at age 80. Another's wife is very seriously ill. A tough time for many of our old gang and their families. We're all thinking about you guys. Somehow life goes on.

Smell October

What a wonderful time to be outside! The metaphor "Stop and smell the roses", may apply to Fall more than any other time of year. Most people, however, will watch it come and go without really getting anything out of it. As it relates to taking advantage of it, however, you may have to be intentional. Beauty is all around us if we'll take time to notice as we go through our hurried daily routines.

To enjoy the best of what nature has to offer, you might consider going outside in the early morning or early evening. My personal favorite time to be outside is the last hour of the day, as the sun is going down and nature executes it's nightly changing of the guard. Not only does the setting sun often times provide a colorful sky, but if you'll be still and listen, you'll hear the night time critters wind up while the day time critters wind down--good medicine for urban ears.
And if you're lucky enough to be away from the constant distraction of urban lights and sounds late in the day, you might even hear the local coyotes calling their friends together for a hopeful evening buffet, or possibly the hoot of the stealthy Barred Owl, should you happen to be located within the broad boundaries of it's trade territory.

Although the colors may have peaked here in the lower Midwest, there is still a lot outside to enjoy for those who'll take the time. And what a wonderful time it is to be outside!

Thought for the day: Stop and smell October (currently there's no charge and no laws against it as far as I'm aware).

Maxie Pad

Like a lot of other folks, we have a dog. His name is Max and he's a big Ol' happy Yellow Lab. Maxie Pad (his nick name) weighs in at a cool 100 pounds and doesn't have an ounce of fat on him  (like Arnold Schwarzenegger, only Max doesn't have any money to speak of, has never starred in a movie, and as far as I know has never fathered a pup with one gal while he was committed to another...not that I know for sure he wouldn't give it a shot were he still fully equipped).
Our friend Max is content to hang around, sleep, chase squirrels, and ride around in the Tahoe (I'm pretty sure he thinks it's his Tahoe, even though technically my name's on the title). It's also evident he thinks he's a seeing eye dog and I'm blind because he will not leave my side most of the time, unless he's out in the front yard looking for squirrels or we're somewhere walking around in the woods; even then he won't wonder very far from me.
He apparently thinks sit and stay mean the same thing. When I tell him to sit, he sits and stays and when I tell him to stay, he also sits and stays (my fault for not giving clear direction when he was still in the learning phase). Heal apparently means, "Run over to him, act like I'm going to heal and then go back to sniffing and rooting around".
When he hears the Tahoe keys jingle (probably any keys-I don't think he can distinguish between various sets of keys), he starts jumping and spinning and gets nearly as excited as I do when my wife says, "Do you want to go upstairs?" (I put that in here to find out if my wife is reading this stuff-if I don't hear about it in a few days, I'll know she's not). When he thinks we're going somewhere in his Tahoe you couldn't get him away from the back bumper with a t-bone steak smothered in Squirrel gravy...which reminds me; it's Squirrel season and I haven't been Squirrel hunting in several years (this is an example of what happens when adult ADD kicks in).

The Barn Depot

The temperature sat very comfortably around 72 degrees as the sun made it's way through the trees and just inside the doorway to the barn (I know the above picture doesn't quite fit that description, but I'm working with what I have available). I had finally gotten around to once and for all organizing it's contents, which included things like hand tools, power tools and long handled tools; screws, bolts, nuts and fasteners; rope, string and twine; boards of all shapes and sizes; stain, paint and related supplies; ladders; chainsaws; camping equipment, and assorted other paraphernalia related to the aforementioned categories. It's amazing what a person can accumulate when they put a few walls around what had previously been a wide open space.

A barn is basically an oversized closet for men; if there's available space in a barn or garage, a man will find something to put there-much like a woman with an empty dresser drawer or shelf in a closet. If you don't have something to put there when the space becomes available, it's just a matter of time before you'll go buy something to put there. Space, by it's very nature, requires filling whether it's in a barn, a closet, or a drawer.

Although my initial intention was to build a barn to hold stuff I already had, I inadvertently wound up filling it up with stuff I had to buy. I bought a lot of the stuff at places like Lowe's and Home Depot. Building supply companies must love guys who build barns. Not only do barn builders buy tons of stuff to put in the barn once it's built, they first have to buy all the stuff it takes to build the barn, and most of that stuff comes from places like Home Depot (I know technically it's "The Home Depot", but it sounds stupid when you say it that way e.g.: I'll be back after while-I'm going down to "The Home Depot"...no one says that). When the barn's finally built, the owner spends the rest of their life acquiring stuff to put in it. It's like building a swimming pool, only it cost more and you can't swim in it.

Now that I think about it, I bet when a guy walks into a Home Depot and announces, "I've decided to build a barn", you instantly become their new favorite customer. After you leave, the manager probably breaks out several bottles of champaign, calls all the employees together, and does a rousing rendition of the company cheer--"GIMME AN H...H, GIMME AN O...O" etc.. The celebration is probably much the same as it would be if all the store employees had pooled their money and bought the winning mega-millions lottery ticket. And if the manager isn't through having or producing babies, they may even decide to name their next born child after you. If they don't, they should. After all, someone building a barn must be to a Home Depot store manager, what a hundred new Walmart Super Centers are to the owner of a Chinese spatula and toilet bowel brush factory!
I must apologize; I started out to write about the nice time I had yesterday working in my barn. It really was a nice day, about 72 degrees and the sun was shining.

It Looks Like Rain

Most folks seem to get way too worked up over the rain. We worry about it all the time and actually plan entire events around whether or not it's supposed to rain. A lot of folks watch the weather every single night for primarily one reason: to find out whether or not it's going to rain. It seems to me we're taking this rain thing way too serious.

When you were a kid you loved the rain and anytime you got the chance to you'd run around in it trying to get as wet as you could before you're mom or someone else's mom started yelling at you to get in out of it. But over the years, we've been conditioned to believe that getting caught out in the rain is bad. The truth is, it was an umbrella salesman who came up with that concept. Before the umbrella was invented, people just went around wet when it rained. It's one of the reasons God invented the sun, along with body heat and later on the bath towel. Eventually He came up with the electric dryer (both blow and tumble), although some guy from Sheboygan took the credit for that.

One thing I've noticed over the years is that no matter how wet you get from getting caught in the rain, you'll eventually dry out. And I'm not talking about most of the time: I mean literally every single time!

I've given the subject of getting rained on quite a bit of thought this afternoon as I sit here in T.H. Benton's on the Bentonville Square, and as a result I'm going out on a limb. I'm recommending that collectively we turn over a new leaf, lighten up and embrace the rain--just like some folks have (fill in the blank).

Here's the thought of the day: the next time you get caught out in the rain, remember these two things:

1) Running with your head down doesn't keep you from getting less wet than if you run with your head up and...

B) In and of itself, a little rain water never hurt anyone.

NOTE: According to my late Grandma Stewart, "Rain water is good for your hair silly!"

Whacky

I'm convinced everyone is whacked. Liberal thinkers think conservative folks are whacked. Conservative folks think liberal's are whacked. Anti-gun folks think NRA members are whacked and NRA members think non-gun folks and Subaru owners are whacked. Subaru owners and Chevy Volt owners think the oil folks are whacked and the oil folks think members of Sierra Club International are whacked (or at least getting in their way-which from their perspective makes a person whacked). Fat folks think skinny folks are whacked and skinny folks think you're whacked if you don't own a stair stepper, 3 jump ropes and a treadmill. Students think the teacher's union is whacked and the teacher's union thinks---no one really knows what the teacher's union is thinking, but it's likely whacked. Bronco fans think Chiefs fans are whacked, Chiefs fans think Raider fans are whacked and....wait a minute, wait a minute....even Raider fans think Raider fans are whacked.

The interesting thing about everyone thinking everyone else is whacked is, no one thinks "they're" whacked personally....except for me. I personally know I'm whacked and have absolutely no problem with it. Being whacked keeps me laughing and at the same time feeling young and alive. The option is to go "all grown up and serious" on everyone and pretty soon I'll not just be whacked, I'll start acting whacked....just like everyone else!

In A Word

Is there a difference between being a writer and being a blogger? I don't think so. If you run they call you a runner. If you build they call you a builder. And if you're a real cranky individual who's difficult to get along with, they call you a (blank), although in that case it's usually behind your back.
My point is, if you write stuff down that anyone with the ability and inclination to read, can in fact do so, then in my estimation that makes you a writer. 
My Aunt "D" ask me today what I was blogging about. I responded, "Mostly random odds and ends-my mind has a tendency to wonder". 
At some point I'll settle in on an overall basic and consistent theme. Haven't decided what audience I'm shooting for: so far, it's an audience of 11.

Bentonville?

If you've never visited Bentonville, Arkansas, you should. My wife and I have lived here over 19 years and although it's always been a nice place to live, it's turned into a wonderful place to visit.
As I sit here in T.H. Benton's Coffee/Deli on the corner of Central and Main, I'm somewhat amazed at how much this place has changed since moving here in June of 1993. Who would have ever believed the original Norman Rockwell painting of Rosie The Riveter, along with numerous other priceless, original works of American Art would be hanging in a truly fabulous world class museum, not much more than a stones throw from the downtown square and the site of Sam Walton's original 5 & 10. I doubt that many local residents in 1993 envisioned a biking/walking/running trail that would take them some 37 miles from Belle Vista, through Bentonville, Rogers and Springdale, south all the way to Fayetteville-the home of the Arkansas Razorbacks. Did anyone ever dream they might one day visit this little town and while here, stop in for a coffee at Star Bucks, shop at 9 West or Cabella's and perhaps attend a broadway play and maybe later, dinner at Ruth's Chris? Probably not.

If you've never visited Bentonville, Arkansas, like Bob The Barker might have said, "Come on down!"....we'll leave one of the street lights on for ya!

Sausage for Breakfast?

A good friend just forwarded me an email of a picture someone took of an alleged 1800 pound wild hog, allegedly shot somewhere south of St. Louis. Now I don't claim to know everything about pigs, but I'm guessing the picture of the alleged super hog was photo shopped. My thought process is: if a wild ranging pig was capable of growing to the size of an African Water Buffalo while subsisting on roots, acorns, and an occasional dead shake, don't you think Tyson foods could have by now figured out how to grow a pen raised, corn fed hog to at least twice that size?

If the picture is real, I'm going hog hunting and if successful, we won't have to buy bacon or sausage for at least a month (I eat a lot of bacon and sausage). 

Up and Coming New Friends

I recently met some fine young folks at T. H. Benton's Coffee/Deli, located immediately across the street form the Bentonville square. Their names are Michelle and Kade. As I'm somewhat prone to do, I started messing with them a little bit before we'd officially met. I told them if the cops came in looking for me, please tell them they haven't seen me. They both came back with something spontaneous and clever and as a result I thought to myself, "Ok, these are not your average young coffee shop Joe's". I could go on but for now I'll just share this thought: if you're in the neighborhood and have time for a cup of coffee and perhaps a sandwich, stop in T. H. Benton's for what I'm confident will be a nice little experience. And if you do, ask the guys and gals behind the counter if they've seen that one old and ridiculous guy who thinks he's a writer. For an added bonus, if I'm there, I'd absolutely be tickled to autograph your shirt or pose with you for a legendary and classic photo. I'd give you a signed copy of my book, however, I'm still working on the first page.

Friendship in a Free Society

Many people unwitingly become friends with individuals whom, in reality, they don't at all match up with. One cause of this issue might be the failure to ever have considered why you became friends in the first place.
 If you find yourself with this situation, you might consider writing down the qualities that are important to you in people with whom you choose to associate. You could then review your list of friends to determine which individuals on the list have or don't have most of the qualities you've determined are important to you.

In the category of friends, one person might list for example, honesty, loyalty, fun personality, sense of humor, conversational, forthcoming, dependable, interesting, sincere, caring, kind and so on. They could then consider how each of their friends (or good acquaintances) matches up with each of these qualities. Based on the outcome, that person would be free to consider making adjustments they deem appropriate or necessary, including adding to or deleting from their list of friends.

When you consider there are approximately 7 billion people on our planet and out of that group, we get to pick our friends, it gives us the option of making adjustments relative to who our friends are as we make the journey through life. The great thing is, we get to do this completely at our individual discretion. As a bonus, we don't have to worry about being wrong, unless of course we make a mistake of adding/deleting the wrong friend. However, even choosing the wrong friend doesn't make you wrong, it just makes you naive.

The right to choose our friends, surely must be one of the great things about living in a free society. And if you don't currently have any friends, worry not : that will be addressed in an upcoming issue of Old and Ridiculous. Thank for tuning in...my friend!

True Friends are Forever

I re-discovered some old friends over the past 4 days and found them both to be exactly as I remembered them the last time I saw them....17 years ago.

We originally met Rick and Martha along with their son's Michael and John the first part of 1993, after Rick had taken a job running a division at our mutual former company. Although he and I had come from different countries and had grown up in substantially different environments, we became instant friends, as did Martha and my wife Sue. 

Over the next 2 1/2 years, we would get together several times outside of work with our families and enjoyed numerous activities together including cook outs, canoe trips, birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, camp fire weenie roasts and so on. Then, about as suddenly as our Canadian friends had appeared in our lives, they were gone, moving back to their hometown of Toronto. To say the least, we were all very sad to see them go. 

We stayed in sporadic contact over the next several years, exchanging occasional phone calls or leaving messages from time to time on the other's answering machine, but we had no actual face to face contact and for some reason, hadn't connected on Facebook or any other social media site.

Fast forward to this past Friday evening and as soon as we saw each other at the airport, it was like no time at all had gone by. Although it had been 17 years since the 4 of us had laid eyes on one another, we instantly took up right where we left off in 1995. We found it difficult to believe our 4 collective children were now 25-30 years old and not 8-13, but everything else in our friendship had remained the same. In short, we had a great time re-connecting with our wonderful old friends.

Early this morning after dropping Rick and Martha off for their return trip home, I drove away from the airport with a smile on my face and a long held belief re-affirmed in my heart: a true friendship should be cherished above all possessions.

Twitter-tainment

I was born with the ability to entertain myself. It's possible that self entertainment is an acquired skill, but I don't recall ever not having it. I like people and there are many sincere, humorous, and entertaining folks who are fun to hang out with. Sometimes those folks, however, aren't' available, which leaves me with the following options:
A) look for ways to be entertained
B) entertain myself.

Option B is the primary reason I have a Twitter account. If someone happens to read something I tweet and it causes them to ponder, smile, or maybe even laugh out loud, it's a bonus. If not, at least someone's getting a kick out of the junk I'm coming up with; even if it's just me.

@rollarustic on Twitter

~A log home creation by Pioneer Log Homes of BC www.pioneerloghomesofbc.com

What next?

My brother Ace recently acquired a pet coon. His name is Jasper and Jasper goes with my brother everywhere he goes. Ace even takes him to work where Jasper spends the day crawling around his office, sitting on his shoulders, and occasionally napping under his desk. My brother also has a dog, but nearly everyone has a dog. From time to time I've thought it would be kind of cool to have a mule, but with just a little input from my super hot bride, I  settled on a dog.
We'll see where the coon experiment ends up. My guess is, Jasper will eventually bite someone's finger off.