Camping Memories

Some of the best memories from my mis-spent youth are those spent on camping trips in Montana

Jerry, Frankie, Pat, Al,  Mel and I wasted lots of time—actually spent a lot of time—living away from the comfort of home (which was never too distant).  We’d go to the area south of town and camp in the hills, out west toward the lake and spend a week-end, or drop by Washoe Park where there were lots of places to pitch camp along the creek, which varied in size from several feet to several yards wide.  Lots of rapids, but no falls.  We didn’t miss them.

One time we set up on a small island in the middle of the steam in weather that tended to get a little chilly in the morning. 

Morning came early in those days, and this time was no different.  None of us ever learned to get a decent night’s sleep on these adventures, and we always ended up going home droopy-eyed. 

One particular morning, prior to sunup, as was usual, someone would start making noise and we’d all crawl out of our sleeping bags and drag our tired bodies over to the site of the campfire, which was just about dead.

The most popular breakfast in those days consisted of bacon and eggs, sometimes complimented with a side of hashers or baked spuds left over from the night before.

As you might imagine, an early Montana morning, a flowing body of water, darkness all mixed together with a good dose of October, tended to be might chilly, to say the least.

We re-built the fire and began to pull out our mess kits of frying pan, plate, cup, etc.

We all started to fry (there was no other means of cooking in our repertoire) and proceeded to prepare out meals—most important meal of the day, you know.

After the bacon and eggs were done, the meal enjoyed (as much as we could) we all started to clean the dishes and repack for the activities of the day.

All except Frankie.  Try as he might, his bacon had formed a frozen lump during the night, and it wouldn’t melt and cook.  The rest of us were finished and he was still trying to get started.  Even moving to different sides of the fire didn’t help; he was really getting pretty ticked off.  Started to swear, even.

Finally, Al gave him a flashlight to check the progress, as the day was still pretty dark.  Frankie was desperate and willing to try anything.  The shadowy light of the fire wasn’t the best to see into a frying pan.

As Frankie turned on the flashlight, it illuminated his bacon.  But it wasn’t in the frying pan at all!  It was on the ground where he had been sitting originally!

A quick look into the pan brought roars of laughter from everyone-- except Frankie.  His language got lots dirtier as he realized why his breakfast wasn’t cooking the way he wanted.

There, in the pan, close to the edge was a piece of tree bark!  Pine, if memory serves!

Frankie had been trying to fry “tree-bacon”, as it came to be called.

Till the last time I saw him in the late ‘50’s, he never lived it down.

It really WAS funny.

I Remember Papa

 

Most of us have memories of our fathers. 

Some good, some bad, some just plain funny (in retrospect!)

My Dad used to be one of the latter; he didn’t get drunk and get funny or cute, nor did he dress out of fashion, either.  In fact, looking back, he did OK on that score, considering our lifestyle. 

He was a mortician; looking presentable was mandatory, and he played it very well.  Not too ostentatious, not skid row, either.  Just right.

He was always on the lookout for us kids; my brother and sister, along with myself.  We never really wanted for anything.

One of Dad’s favorite things to do was fart.  Big long ones, followed by, “Ahhhh, that was great!”  Or, sneaky ones, deadly.

I can remember one time at a Class B basketball tournament in Helena.

In those days, people would go out of the gym and into the lobby during halftime for a smoke or three.  You could get cancer in those places.  Lots of smoke, lots of coughing.

I was outside in front, cold as hell, watching through the glass doors, waiting for halftime’s buzzer to sound so we could all go back in.

Dad signaled to me with his hand to come in; the look on his face was serious as I’ve ever seen it.  Coming through the entry, he again waved me over to him. 

“Come here, Dave; I have to tell you something.  C’mon over here.”

Stupidly, I did.

As I leaned to hear him whisper what was so important to the security of the free world, he asked softly, “Do you smell something funny?”

He had cut one of his finest.  I darned near gagged, and longed for the sweet smell of the Camels and Marlboros!  It was all I could do to keep my temper and remain vertical.

That was Dad, and it wasn’t the only time he got me with that stunt; I sure miss him.

Another RINO in Nevada (What's new?)

Yesterday, the ex-wife of Nevada governor Jim Gibbons (R), Dawn, announced that she would be supporting Harry Reid (D), Senate Majority leader in the November election.
Explaining that she and Reid's opponent, Sharron Angle (R), are still close friends, Dawn claimed to be worried about school children and teachers based on policy disagreements that the two women had had when both served in the Nevada state legislature several years ago, leading her to endorse Reid.
In fact, it appears that the former Mrs. Gibbons still feels the need to continue taking shots at the governor, who described her in divorce filings as "...a ferret in a phone booth...", and the state Republican Party, which remained neutral in the marital dispute.
The sorry episode shows how little thought goes into the making of a RINO. Supposedly standing for a legitimate, legal, limited, constitutional government, most Republicans will at least make a fawning reference to those standards. When one leaves all respect for those principles in order to support actively someone like Harry Reid, who has no idea what the Constitution is, one is left to wonder: What the hell was she doing in the first place?
Alas, she talked a good fight when she wanted to be elected, but has shown herself to be as hollow in her soul as the guy she wants to see returned to DC.
Jim Gibbons isn't running again, so her actions seem to be directed at him for no reason other than to embarrass the party.
Dawn, we barely knew ye.

Into each life a little rain must fall, right?
But when your dachshund passes on after fourteen and a half years, it's a real cloud burst.
My dog, Frank, was one of the finest, most loyal dogs that ever trod this earth; in good times and bad, he was always there, tail wagging and feet shifting.
During his last year, his health took a real dive: first a gall bladder problem requiring a special diet, some other digestive things, lymphoma, and finally total kidney failure that proved to be his undoing.
Frank had just about completed his chemo, when the lumps returned, and spread pretty much everywhere. He was allowed to return home with us on a Thursday, and he just didn't improve, rather got worse, not seeming to recognize us, not eating or drinking. Forced feeding with an oral syringe and crushed ice kept him going fairly well, but Sunday night he developed siezure type activities and we rushed him to the vet again for a complete evaluation. That's when we learned abou the kidney failure and had to decide what we really didn't want to think about.
My wife and I held little Frank as the end approched, arrived and passed. Not a dry eye on either one of us. I'm not ashamed to say so.
He's going to be missed. I'm not ashamed to say that, either.
Each day has been a bit easier, but we're still not out of the funk brought on by his passing.
We'll see.

More thoughts on Vegas

The local paper in Las Vegas has articles about all those bloggers I told you about yesterday; it seems that the left bunch at the Rio is unhappy with The One. Seems he isn't pushing his "agenda" fast enough! Bailouts, stimuli, insurance company takeovers, auto company confiscation, and a so-called health care reform measure, all measures opposed vehemently by a majority the American people.
Still, the bloggers on the left aren't satisfied; it seems that they ignore the American people just like The One. Sheesh!
On the other hand, it appears that the right bunch over at the Venetian is hardly able to contain their glee; all they can see is the next election curing a lot of ills in America.
Voter dis-satisfaction with the current bunch in Washington, translates into real gains in Republican number, they believe. And, they may be right.
The November elections are looking more and more like 1994 when Republicans stormed back from the minority to throw Democrats under the bus.
Comparing the two scenarios, remember that Clinton had higher approval numbers than Obama, and the public opinion of Congress was higher than the current 11% scored under Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi.
However, as they say, "beware the lame duck".
In 1994, at the urging of Clinton, the outgoing Democrat majority passed NAFTA after the elections, all of them knowing that they would never have to answer for it.
NAFTA was another measure opposed by the American public, but neither Clinton nor the soon-to-be-unemployed gave a rat's butt about that. It has served the interests of foreign countries well, but has almost destroyed America, from service to manufacturing.
Here, in Nevada, the electorate has a chance to throw the Senate Majority Leader, Harry Reid, back to his home in Searchlight, NV. (Actually, he'll be picked up by some influential inside Washington company that will gladly pay him for his "expertise".)
The Republican opponent, Sharron Angle, is making the race very interesting and closer than many believed. She has pretty solid conservative credentials (eliminate SS over 45 years, ax the EPA, close Education, and a host of other pretty attractive proposals).
On Reid's side, he's running into problems, as he's been reduced to complaining about Angle, as he can't run on his own record. He's spent most of his political capital on being Obama's pimp.
It's going to be a close campaign, and the smart money is now on Reid, but Angle was down at the 5% level during the primary before storming from behind to knock off a "sure thing".

How did this come to pass?

Why a blog?
Frankly, it's not that complicated. While traveling recently in Las Vegas, there was a news broadcast about bloggers from the "left" and "right" of the political spectrum each having a con-fab in a couple of the local casinos.
Coupled with a desire to set the world right in so many ways, it dawned on me that there is no better way to try that than to put what I think out into cyberspace.
So, why not?
Reading the newspaper each day (where ever I am at the moment), seems to get me thinking, pondering, comparing and sometimes showing a little emotion.
This is the way I want to make my own opinions known; if anyone has thoughts about what they find here, they should feel free to respond.
So, I guess this makes me a blogger.