Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

Why, yes, we are related, how could you tell?

2012-02-17T21:03:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'll admit it... I do know the crazy looking lady in the top two pictures. She's actually my daughter Autumn. She inherited the wonderful ability of entertaining herself with just whatever piece of flotsam or jetsam happens to be drifting through her somewhat clouded mind at the time. I don't have the slightest idea what she was thinking when these two pictures were taken. I do know that she was in the process of baking a wedding cake for a gal here in town and incredibly, it came out looking great. She also took the wedding pictures. She's quite talented in the art department and has been commissioned to bake a number of different cakes for assorted functions. I've seen pictures of the cakes and they really are wonderful, which is somewhat surprising considering the attire she has chosen for a baker's cap. However, I guess I have little to say when you consider I started off the new year wearing a chicken hat. I should point out though, that Jennifer was wearing it first, actually advertising it for a school function; I just happened to buy it off of her. Since I've lived with Autumn since she was born, I'm not really shocked by any of the off the wall expressions she displays. It started years ago when I was still working at the L.Kane Store. I was looking out the back door and I noticed her walking down the street behind the store. There was nothing out of the ordinary going on... then, out of the blue she stopped, stuck her lower jaw out, exposing her bottom teeth and proceeded to bob her head from side to side rapidly, while extending her head the full length of her neck. I stood there watching with my mouth agape, wondering what the hell I was observing. I wasn't sure if she was having a seizure,or if I should go hug her, tackle her or put a sack over her face before anyone else saw what was going on. I guess I was in a semi-state of shock, because I just stood there watching, half way anticipating what was to come next. To say the least it was incredibly entertaining. After thirty seconds or so, she stopped and continued on her way, oblivious to the fact that she had an audience. I'm not sure what scenario was playing through her mind at the time, but when I went home and showed Jan, we immediately adopted the same act. My mother-in-law liked it so well she started doing it too. The kid in the bottom picture who looks somewhat questionable is my grandson Kristian. Go figure. Don't let the face fool you, he was the valedictorian last year, just as his mother Jen was when she graduated some years back. I should point out that there were only four kids in his graduating class, but that's neither here nor there. Because of his standing in the class, my family was afforded the honor of sitting in the front row at the graduation. I happened to be sitting next to Autumn and had a running commentary during the whole ceremony. That was probably a mistake. I should have been sitting next to Jan, I might have behaved myself. As it was though, Autumn and I spent most of the ceremony in stitches. Frankly I was shocked that we weren't asked to leave. In any event, I guess the old saying, you can't judge a book by it's cover is probably true; even Einstein looked a little shaky.

Windy Skaflestad

2012-02-13T21:07:00.000-08:00

While much of the world is mourning the loss of Whitney Houston, Hoonah is mourning the loss of one of our long time residents, Windy Skaflestad. I attended a memorial service for him yesterday in the old school gym. The fact that the gym was filled pretty much to capacity is evidence of the impact that Windy had on so many people, not just here in Hoonah, but around the state. He worked throughout the state as a construction supervisor for the U.S. Public Health Service and after his retirement, put in several terms as mayor of Hoonah. He was as tenacious as a bulldog when it came to pursuing funding for various projects that would benefit the citizens of Hoonah. I always enjoyed talking to Windy- he'd take time out to speak to you no matter what he had going on. His family has an intimate knowledge of Port Frederick and the surrounding area, and periodically he'd share some of his fishing secrets with me. I did an interview with him a few years ago for an upcoming book on the local fishermen, and I'm so glad that I have his story to share with those who might want to get a glimpse into how Hoonah used to be. He started working in his father's logging camp when he was eleven, running Caterpillar equipment and later left high school to run the camp after his father was injured. He lived a full life, though it ended much too soon. According to his obituary, he died less than 100 feet from the home where he was born. His final words were "This was fun." He'll surely be missed by all of his friends and family. It's hard to say goodbye but the sun has set on his life here and he's left for his next adventure. Good fishing Windy.

Robin Hood

2012-02-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

I used to read comic books when I was growing up. Like many kids my age I had quite a large stack of them. I was a paper boy and on Friday nights when I was out collecting the money, I would always drop down to Meister's drug store, eat copious amounts of junk food, play pinball for an hour or so and peruse the comic shelf for the newest edition of Superman or the Flash or perhaps Metal Men. The back page of comics always had an ad for something like Charles Atlas who could build your body to be the envy of all the other guys, thus preventing getting bullied, or my all time favorite ad- X-ray specs. I desperately wanted a pair of those.The ad led you to believe that you could see right through clothes with a pair of these. As a young lad entering puberty, I couldn't think of a better gift to give myself, but they cost a dollar, and I didn't believe they would really work, regardless of how much I wished they did. Boy's Life magazine, which was affiliated with the Boy Scouts of America, had more realistic ads on their back page. The ad showed hundreds of great gifts, baseball bats, gloves, basketballs, model kits and even a bow and arrow. The bow and arrow caught my eye; all I had to do was sell twelve boxes of greeting cards to get my prize.Well, how hard can it be to sell twelve boxes of greeting cards? Everyone needs those don't they?I cut out the coupon and sent it off and a few weeks later received my cards. The first box or two wasn't too hard to unload- Mom bought one and I think Grandma did. After that it became a marathon, knocking on doors of strangers for blocks around. You would be surprised at how many people don't want greeting cards, and there were a fair number who didn't want goofy kids knocking on their doors at all. After what seemed like eternity, I finally sold all twelve boxes and sent off for my prize- a bow and arrow. I was half expecting a dorky little wooden job with plastic arrows and a rubber tip; I was cynical even as a kid. What I got though, was a Ben Pearson, re-curved, fiberglass bow,with a 25lb pull, three target arrows, a paper target, finger tabs and an arm guard. Holy Toledo! This was a serious piece of equipment. What the heck were they thinking? A guy could do some real damage with this baby. I rushed upstairs to my room and proceeded to string the bow. Being the ignorant buffoon that I was, I had no idea what I was doing, having only seen bows on cowboy and Indian movies and maybe a Robin Hood flick or something. Of course I strung it up wrong, not realizing there was a right way to do it. I pulled it back as far as it would stretch and the string let loose, whacking my right ear and turning it as red as a Delicious apple. When I went downstairs for supper and told my dad about my misfortune, he immediately burst into laughter. While I was delighted to put him into such a good mood, I could have done without the throbbing red ear. It was then that he went to a bench seat under the dining room window and retrieved a beautiful laminated wooden bow that he hadn't used for years. I discovered he had started an archery club shortly after he moved to Marion, the Black Feathers, and used to make his own arrows, which explained the feathers and cedar shafts in the garage. Several days later he brought home a bale of hay for me to shoot at and set it up in the back yard. Hay is really dense when it's packed into a bale and thus is a good stop for the arrows, assuming you hit the bale. Of course I had no prior experience shooting a bow, and though my dad tried to direct me, I was a bit of a slow learner. I guess I hit the bale enough times to satisfy him, so he left me alone- big mistake. Occasionally the arrow would go high and either hit the top of the bale and launch across the alley or it would miss all together, thus striking Mr. Merchants garage door. I never volunteered why his door had suddenly become riddled with small holes. I'm not sure he would have been overly understanding. It didn't take long before I got tired of shooting the hay bale and launched out into more exciting adventures. I lived down the street from the highschool where there were acres of football fields, baseball fields and general empty grounds to play in. Of course having a deadly weapon in my possession immediately made me a celebrity to my friends. We would all march down to the school to shoot the bow, sometimes shooting an arrow strait up into the air. It would go so high we would see it wobble like a mirage and finally dissapear. Unfortunately my friends were just as stupid as I was and we had no idea where the arrow would come down at so we all ran like hell in different directions until it hit the ground with a thud. How do boys ever grow up to be men? It's a mystery indeed. My most satisfying expeience with that bow was one March day. I was down at the school shooting, minding my own business. Amy O'Dowd, a snotty little kid from a few streets over was flying her kite in one of the practice fields. I was walking home when she say's " I bet you can't hit my kite." I told her I bet I could, so she says,"Well go ahead and try then." So I let fly. Let me tell you, that arrow went straight and true right through that paper kite ripping it and causing it to tumble like an airplane in a dog fight. The only thing that would have been more satisfying at that moment would have been if it had caught fire on it's way down. She screamed an hollered that she was going home to tell her dad and I ran down the hill, retrieved my arrow, smiling from ear to ear and feeling like Robin Hood, William Tell and Fred Bear all rolled into one. For the better part of fifty years whenever I think of that day I still smile. Take that Amy O'Dowd, and watch who you challenge next time.

Military Family

2012-02-01T21:52:00.000-08:00

Wahoo! It finally started raining yesterday and already the snow is starting to melt. I feel like a new man. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather have sunshine and sixty degrees right now, but as long as it's not snowing, I'm a fairly happy camper. I've tried unsuccessfully to get a good picture of the collage that we have hanging in the dining room. I know this isn't very good at all, but it's the best I can do. Somehow Brian has a huge picture and is centered right in the middle. Don't let it go to your head Brian. Obviously my picture is the smallest- let me be clear- the size and order of things has nothing at all to do with the standing of any of the individuals pictured here. If that were the criteria we were using, I would probably have a picture that took up half the wall. Oh well... in terms of people who seemed to be having a good time in these pictures, if you observe closely, you can see in the picture on the left hand side that I'm smiling like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. I'm not sure why, I think it must have been taken just before we were due to get out of bootcamp and the idea made me giddy. My dad on the top looks pretty happy too. He was probably thinking about mom. Ben looks pretty stern and Brian is sober as a judge. They both look pretty good though. I have to admit, I love the doo-dads and braids and the wings on Ben's uniform. He's got wings because he's a paratrooper, just like my dad was. I've always kind of liked the idea of staying inside the plane myself. I really like the maroon beret too. It reminds me of the one that Buffalo Bob donned when we drove around Hoonah on our way to the dump. All the girls swooned when he waved at them; he was a handsome fellow. If I wore a maroon beret I suspect they would throw eggs. Brian and I are both wearing the dixie cup hat that is part of the traditional navy uniform, but he looks better in his than I do in mine. Mine looks like I'm waiting for it to rain so I can water the plants with it. When I only had about six months left in the navy, some brainiac decided they were going to change the navy uniform from the traditional blues with the thirteen button pants and pullover top to a black jacket and a cap that made you look like you were selling ice cream out of one of those trucks with the music blaring. I was afraid that they were going to make me buy the new uniform even though I was a short-timer. Fortunately it didn't happen. I have to admit, at first I wasn't a big fan of the thirteen button pants. When you have to pee really bad, they can be a hindrance, but with time you learn to just lift the top of the pants and all thirteen buttons let loose. I wish I had a picture of my grandpa in his army uniform. He was in World War I. I don't know if either of my great grandparents were in the military or not. I suspect that there's a strong possibility that one or both of them could have been in the Civil War though I don't know if they would have worn the blue or grey. I believe both my mom and dad's family were from around Kentucky and I'm uncertain if they were part of the union or the confederacy, though I imagine it wouldn't have been hard to find people sympathetic to both trains of thought.Speaking of the Civil War, I just read Killing Lincoln by Bill O' Reilly. Even if you don't like him, the book he wrote was a pretty good read. Lots of history that you didn't learn in school. Anyway, back to the immediate subject. I was one of five children and the only one to have boys. Of course we had five girls first, but we persevered. The guys had a chance to visit with my dad before he died and he seemed to have a pretty good impact on them. If he were around today I know he would be really proud of both of them; Jan and I sure are. Anyway fellows, tell your fellow soldiers and sailors that I really appreciate the sacrifices that they and their families are making. Guard your integrity and make your families and America proud. God bless all of you.

Snow!!!

2012-01-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

Years ago, when the L.Kane Store still sold groceries and fuel, there was a sign prominently displayed on the back wall of the office. You couldn't miss it if you entered. It said simply, "Those requesting credit in this establishment will be pummeled repeatedly with punishing blows about the head and shoulders!" I loved that sign. Unfortunately it was more humorous than factual because everyone and his brother would come in, give the manager a sob story and walk out with hundreds of dollars worth of goods or fuel which only occasionally was paid back. As you can imagine, the store eventually closed down; however, I'm not here to write about credit or Kane's or humorous signs,I'm here to write about this blasted snow. I've been shoveling massive quantities for days- so much so that I have almost nowhere else to pile it. The bottom picture shows the scene on my front porch. The snow that has slid off the roof is piled so high we almost don't have any room left to see outside. To say that I'm sick of this would be the understatement of the century. I wonder if I could hire Al Gore to come shovel my roof off for a day or two. I want him to experience global warming first hand. I had to climb up there a few days ago to get some of the weight off. The snow was up to my waist in some places and was getting kind of heavy. To complicate matters, it's a steel roof, so if I dug down to the steel, I'd lose my footing and start to slide. It probably wouldn't have hurt too bad, falling into a huge snow bank, but getting out would have been quite the challenge. By the time I got done shoveling I felt like a band of angry Pygmies had pummeled me repeatedly about the head and shoulders with punishing blows. My back and legs weren't feeling any too good either. The exertion of all that shoveling had me sweating in my coveralls, while my hands and feet were about to freeze. Oh how I love winter. The top picture shows the tools necessary to deal with the onslaught of snow- shovel, ice scraper, broom and ice melt. I should hook up my weed burner and start melting some of it, but I'd probably catch the house or truck on fire. Of course if that happened I'd have to move somewhere else for awhile, probably somewhere warmer, like Key West. I try to brush the extra snow off my boots before I enter the foyer, but inevitably some of the snow clings to the tread of my boots and drops on the linoleum. Of course it melts and I always manage to step in the frigid puddle with my socks. A guy could go through a dozen pairs of dry socks a day when the weather is like this outside. To add to my misery, the weather man keeps promising it's going to rain. Today is Sunday. It was supposed to warm up and rain last Friday, then it was going to rain today, now it's supposed to happen on Tuesday. Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I really wish it would rain, it would knock down some of this snow. Of course the streets would be solid ice, but I'd be willing to put up with that for awhile, at least you don't have to shovel the rain.

A Walk Across the Sun

2012-01-25T16:44:00.000-08:00

I've been struggling for the past week,vacillating back and forth as to whether or not to do a blog post on this. When I finally made up my mind to do it, the picture wouldn't download this morning and I almost gave up the idea. I try to shy away from controversial subjects for the most part. I don't want to use this blog to discuss politics or religion, although I have strong feelings about both subjects. There are some things that must be addressed though, and even though I understand there isn't a large readership here, and I may offend some by what I write, I'm willing to take that chance in order to be a voice for the exploited and the innocent. I recently read A Walk Across the Sun, by Corban Addison. I liked the cover and I was impressed by the fact that famous author, John Grisham,commented on the back.Over the course of twenty years he's had multiple authors request an endorsement,but he's always declined until the author of this book. He gave it a ringing endorsement which caught my eye. The book is a novel... fiction, but it's based on reality, the trafficking of human beings, which the author states is a thirty billion dollar a year criminal enterprise. I would venture to say that most of the victims are women and often young children. There are places in the far east where sex tourism is commonplace and the perverts who attend these places are in search of children. Though it is illegal, it still goes on with enough frequency to generate these huge profits. The author also states that in Eastern Europe there is a depressingly high rate of girls who were orphans being lured into prostitution by the traffickers once they are no longer in state care. Much like the illegal drug trade, people wouldn't be engaging in trafficking if it wasn't profitable. I can't think of anything much more distressing than to be forced to do something so inhumane and degrading than prostitution and to feel so helpless to stop it as these women and children are. I have five daughters and five granddaughters and I promise I would go to extremes without mercy if they were ever to suffer such abuse as I read about in this book. The author provides the web addresses of several organizations that provide data on this subject.
The U.S.Dept. of State provides a Trafficking In Persons report (www.state.gov/g/tip) He states that one of the best non-governmental sources of data on the trade is the Polaris Project in Washington D.C. (http://www.polarisproject.org/) . He goes on to list others as well as other books that delve into the subject deeper, one of which is titled Disposable People by Kevin Bales. The title is telling; are certain people disposable? Are there less desirable members of society who we could care less about, who don't really matter? Is it ok to let them fall through the cracks to be used and later discarded like a dirty tissue? I'll tell you frankly, I'm going out on a limb here, I'm out of my league on this one, but just because I've never been exposed directly to this problem doesn't mean it doesn't impact me. If we are silent on this issue then when will we speak? The world is in dire need of hero's. I hope that if this is an issue that bothers you, you'll investigate it more and let your voice be heard.Thanks

The Mickey V

2012-01-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

It's a beautiful day here in sunny Hoonah Alaska. The only problem is that it's in the single digits and not supposed to go much higher. I don't know how the sun can be out and have so little heat to offer. I've known a few folks like that- beautiful people with no warmth to their character. Perhaps it's just as well- if they were good looking and kind too they might be intolerable. Anyway, it's too cold to wander around outside today so I thought I would tap into the archives of my picture files. The top two pictures show the Mickey V on anchor in Neka Bay this past year. Neka Bay is named after a local Tlingit man who used to shoot a small cannon every time the fleet came back in. I saw a picture of him in a book. He's a very distinguished looking fellow and the cannon looked like it could do some damage if he loaded it with a pound or two of shot. The Mickey V (5) is owned by a friend of mine, Marc Miller. I don't know what happened to Mickey's one through four. Maybe the original owner just liked this name. There used to be a boat out of Juneau I believe called the Item 113. Who knows how the owner came up with that name, but I always kind of liked it. It seems like if you owned a boat called the Item 113 you would probably be pretty cool. In any event neither Marc or I own that boat, but I think he's a pretty cool guy anyway. I love the lines of the Mickey. It looks like it could take some weather. Like all wooden boats, she takes a lot of upkeep to keep her looking this way. I think on this particular day I went in to pick up Mark so he could help me pull the long line we had set for halibut. We caught all that we were allowed by the first half of the first set and ended up shaking hundreds of pounds of large halibut in the sixty to hundred twenty pound plus range. That was both a blessing and a dissapointment. Not far from where the Mickey is anchored this sow and cub were walking on the beach. At times the cub was walking between his mom's back legs. It was entertaining to watch. I once saw two cubs walking by themselves on the beach at Humpback Creek. They were quite small and I was surprised to see that mom wasn't around. When I looked up the beach I saw the sow. A boar was barrelling down on the cubs. I understand that the boars will kill the cubs so that the sow will go into heat again. The sow stopped and stood up and when the boar stood, she smacked him ten or twelve times so fast he didn't know what hit him. His head was bouncing back and forth between her paws like a paddle ball. It was hilarious. Better go take a cold shower buddy, it aint happening tonight! Ah well, such is life.

Winter Landscape

2012-01-13T16:53:00.000-08:00

This year, while the rest of the country has been given a reprieve from winter, Alaska has been getting it's butt kicked. We got slammed in November with huge amounts of snow, then the first half of December it rained copious amounts and melted most of it, but the day after Christmas it started snowing again and its been some form of precipitation ever since. We actually had a break today- kind of. It was snowing this morning but by lunch time it had cleared up, and while not exactly sunny, at least it wasn't snowing, so I decided to go get a few shots before the next storm. It's actually supposed to clear up and get cold- down below zero, which in Southeast is really chilly. When it gets sunny the wind usually blows, so no doubt there will be a rash of frozen pipes and other fun things going on. I'm always amazed at the number of people who have lived here for years and still aren't prepared for the inevitable. We know that it's going to get really cold at least several times during the winter and yet there are folks who won't insulate their pipes or skirt their foundation. You see the same people running to Juneau to spend their Permanent Fund dividend and then needing bailed out with energy assistance because they don't have fuel. I think it's human nature that if you know you have a safety net it relieves you of having to act responsibly. I certainly don't want anyone to freeze or go hungry by any means, but I've lived here long enough to see that a lot of enabling goes on and that mindset becomes a way of life that is passed from one generation to the next. Guess I better get off my soap box. I may need to count on some help some day myself. Back to the weather. The town of Cordova Alaska has been in the news lately because they received some eighteen feet of snow. That's a lot of snow in any one's book. When Hoonah received twenty three feet of snow one winter we didn't make the national news- what gives? I think it's just like writing a book or being in a band or perhaps being a model. You've always been out there, but then one day someone takes notice and you're in the news. I'd just as soon not be in the news because of weather. The year of the big snow fall we had a terrible number of deer killed- too much of the area was logged and they couldn't find enough food. That spring there was over 200% of the normal amount of snow on the mountains too so the water in the creeks ran high and the bays were colder than usual. The salmon seemed to stay out in the warmer ocean water longer so fishing wasn't all that good. I really don't want to have a repeat of that scenario. I always feel bad for the animals when the weather turns foul. Food is hard to come by and I would imagine that staying warm would be an issue. I should probably see what I can do about building a condominium for the birds. I could insulate it and install little toilets so they wouldn't have to leave the comfort of home. I know I sure wouldn't go out in the cold if I didn't have to. Well, wherever you are, keep warm. See ya later.

St. Louis Bound

2012-01-07T16:48:00.000-08:00

Before I get too far into this post, let me apologize to my friend Doug. I'm fairly certain he doesn't want to see anymore posts on Yanni, but this one is really necessary. Last week I was sitting in my chair, minding my own business, when my daughter Jen presented me with an envelope containing confirmation on a flight to St. Louis and two tickets to a Yanni concert that is going to be held there in April at the Fox theatre. I was pretty much flabbergasted. It was a complete surprise. A friend of mine, who knows that I love listening to Yanni and who has been deeply involved in the music business for years, donated his air miles so that Jan and I could make this trip. Then my family bought the tickets to the concert and paid for the hotel stay. It was an incredibly generous gesture on everyone's part and greatly appreciated. I've never been to St. Louis before, so I looked up a few things there. Of course there's the arch, and Anheiser Busch brewing company. I wonder if they are like the Tillamook Cheese factory in Tillamook Oregon. They give out free samples of cheese. It might be nice to sample a cold beer fresh from the vat, especially if it was free. The St. Louis Cardinals are there and who knows, they may even be playing a game while I'm down there. I'm not a big sports fan, but I do like to watch a little baseball in the summer. I saw on TV that there was another incident at one of the sports functions where some fans of one team got beat up by fans from another team. I certainly wouldn't wear a jersey to a game if I attended one, but I'd probably wear my Hoonah Cold Storage hat with a salmon embroidered on the front. It would be my luck I'd get beat up by someone who hated fish. I looked online at the Fox Theatre too. It mentioned that you shouldn't hang around out front too long after the performance and they also said that getting a taxi was kind of hit and miss. Being the pessimist I am I decided to look up the crime rate in St. Louis. One article mentioned that St. Louis was the most dangerous city in the US in 2010. Hmmmm... that's a little unnerving. Maybe it's not safe to hang out in front of the theater after hours. Perhaps I could catch a ride to our hotel in Yanni's limo. If he knew that I came down from Alaska to watch him perform it might give me an advantage. Once I start worrying about something, the sky is the limit. After my recent unpleasant stay at a hotel in Juneau, I started thinking about all the things that could go wrong in the hotel room. Security is a bit of an issue, and of course I hope the bed is comfortable and I'm not used to a bunch of noise. Hoonah is pretty quiet at night, with the exception of the occasional barking dog or drunk person yelling as they wander up the street.One of my biggest concerns is bedbugs though. I hate bugs. I watched a show on TV that talked about an infestation of bedbugs in one person's house. The family just about went broke trying to get rid of them. I'll make sure I check the sheets and mattress before I settle in. So, as long as I don't get slugged, mugged or bugged, I think we'll have a great time. I'll let you know how it goes.

Chicken Man

2012-01-01T21:28:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone. As you might suspect, writing is a serious business, and you can see here I take my business very seriously. Sometimes you have to be in the mood to write- once in awhile you need a prompt or some such thing. When I first saw this chicken hat for sale at the school carnival I knew I had to have it. I didn't even wait for the carnival to start, I bought it before anyone else beat me to it. Chicken hats are in high demand. If I had a mind to, I could probably sell it on e-bay for an awsome profit. Tom Terrific had a funnel for a hat. I guess he couldn't afford a baseball cap or a beanie or whatever. When I was a young lad at school I was told to put on my thinking cap, though I had no idea what that was so I didn't bother to think much. When you're wearing a chicken hat though, there is probably no end to the wonderous thoughts that will fill your head, although most of those thoughts will probably involve some form of eggs or nesting boxes. There used to be a radio program involving a chicken man- something like the Amazing Adventures of Chicken Man. I know I used to listen to it, I just can't remember any of the stories. When I lived in Key West years ago there was a local radio program about Super Chicken. It had a catchy jingle, but I've forgotten most of the words for that too except for the last little bit that went ...when it looks like you will take a licken, there is something you can do a method that is tried and true just caaaall on Super Chicken! I don't think the program was all that great, but it's been over forty years ago that I heard that tune and I still can't get it out of my mind. Oh well. I remember one of my favorite authors, Robert Fulghum, writing about walking down a street in Seattle wearing a beanie with a propeller on top and the amount of attention it got him. People were pointing an laughing and folks that might otherwise have been having a bad day got a good laugh and something to tell their colleagues at the office. Sooooo... as we start this new year, let's try to make the best of the cards we're dealt, try to maintain a good attitude and if you can make someone else's day better in some small way please do it. We're all just trying to make it in the world. Let's hope it's a great year. God bless you all!

Christmas Splendor

2011-12-28T11:40:00.000-08:00

Well, the gloating that I did the other day about not having a white Christmas was short lived. These shots are of Christmas day. My daughter Jen and I went out for a walk because it was too nice to stay inside. Actually, it was cold that day and windy, but the rain had stopped and it was so nice to see the sunshine,so we decided to get outside for a bit. When I woke up on the 26th, there was about four inches of snow on the ground and more coming down every second. Let that be a lesson to you folks- it doesn't pay to gloat over your good fortune, at least not if you're me. It always comes back to bite you in the backside. I hope the kids that got bikes for Christmas got out and rode them while they had the chance. The sledders are the happy campers now.

I hope everyone had a delightful Christmas. When you get to my age there isn't a whole lot that you need as far as gifts go. It would be great if you could ask Santa for a years worth of good health, two months of sleeping all night without having to get up and pee, a pharmaceutical bill that doesn't resemble the national debt, eyebrows that don't need barrettes to keep them out of your eyes, and the strength that you had ten years ago. Maybe he could throw a couple young ladies in my stocking who think I'm cute just to keep my ego going. Ah well, don't think any of that is going to happen, so I better hope I can grow old gracefully. No one wants to hear that your arthritis is kicking in or that your back hurts or that you didn't sleep very well last night; and they especially don't want to hear that you have gas, although it's probably better to give a warning than having them find out on their own. It's kind of funny to watch the progression of a man's life from youth to old age.Most young fellows are obsessed with sex and how to expand their horizons in that department. In your twenties you feel invincible, you're strong, healthy, ready to conquer the world. As you get older, jobs, making money and family are priorities. By middle age you're not moving so fast, things are starting to hurt or just not work as good as they used to, and for many guys their family is grown up. At my age grand kids are in the picture, nothing seems to work right in my body, everything hurts, my conversations revolve around what new ailment popped up overnight and I spend half my day looking for my glasses and the other half in the bathroom. I know what is on the horizon for me, if I live that long.The hair in my ears will grow out and bond with my eyebrows so that every time I raise a brow my ears will wiggle. I'll be sitting in my truck with the window rolled down and the heat on high talking to one of my cronies who is doing the same thing. We'll be discussing something that neither one of us is sure of because we can't hear the other guy above the noise of the engine and the heater fan. The conversation will be something like..."Well I remember one time that I uh, I... oh hell... what was I saying?" As I age, I've gained a little knowledge and I've picked up a little advice from those who have passed through life before me and I would now like to pass on this bit of wisdom. I can't recall where I heard it, but it would be worth remembering- Never trust a fart if you're over fifty. And there you have it.

On a personal note... Doug, I hope you keep this bit of wisdom in mind.

Fruit Baskets

2011-12-21T17:46:00.000-08:00

It's nasty outside again today. I'd kind of like to go out and get some pictures of the area for anyone interested in looking at pictures from Alaska. However, there isn't much to see right now- dirty snow and rain, plus sheets of ice. We were supposed to have gotten six inches of snow in just a few hours today, but it didn't happen. Personally, I'm happy. The way things are going this year, it may be a brown Christmas. If anyone gets a bike they ought to be a happy camper.The poor kids who got sleds will be a little bummed out. Hopefully no one will try sledding down the graveled street. That could play havoc on your plastic sled. Maybe in Bizzaro world that's what they do- run a toboggan down a steep rocky cliff- but I wouldn't recommend it here. The very idea reminds me of Terry Shepard though. He's affectionately known as the Hobbit by his friends. He used to take a plastic sled and load it with groceries and mail and whatever else he had in his car and pull it down the ramp, across the concrete dock to his boat. He didn't like to use a wagon because if the ramp was steep, like at low tide, he would lose control of it. With a sled it couldn't get away from him. Every so often he'd buy a new one, although I would think it would be hard to come by in August- even in Alaska. Anyway, I opted to do a blog on this fruit basket in lieu of a nice outdoors shot today. Jan's work place generously gave all the employees one. It was a little fuller, but I had to eat several of the mandarins and I used the Granny Smith apples for an apple crisp. You know, we have about 150 square feet of counter space in the blasted kitchen, but somehow, just about every inch gets covered with something- toaster, coffeemaker, mail, breadbox, salt and pepper shakers(2 sets) canisters, cookbooks, a fruit bowl and now a fruit basket for crying out loud. I was cutting up the apples and something kept poking me in the elbow- it was the consarn pineapple. Why is it that if this fruit is supposed to be eaten it has stickers on it. I understand why nettles have stickers, you aren't supposed to eat them, but things like raspberries, blackberries, pineapples and I'm sure other tasty fruits are armed to the teeth. You can come and get the goodies, but you're going to pay the price. Oh well. I see that there may be a grapefruit in this basket too- yum. There's also a pear so green and hard you'd need the jaws of life to break off a piece. Why do they put those in there? Must be just for color. This particular basket has some almonds, Brazil nuts and a few hazel nuts in the shell too. I guess they are there to give you something to do while the pear ripens. I think I'll show that pineapple who's boss. I'll cut it up and put it on a skewer for shishkabobs in a few days. I hope you all have a great Christmas. Hopefully I'll have something entertaining to report on my next post. As Tiny Tim said, "God bless us every one."

O Tannenbaum

2011-12-16T17:30:00.000-08:00

Since we're only a little over a week away from Christmas, I thought I would do a post about our Christmas tree. O Tannenbaum is a German song about a Fir or Christmas tree. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, ours isn't real. The down side is that I doubt that anyone would care to compose a song about a plastic Christmas tree. As far as I can tell, that, and maybe the fact that it doesn't have that nice evergreen scent are about the only downfalls I can think of. I don't have to worry at the start of the season about going out and finding the perfect tree, trudging through knee deep snow, across creeks that are just over the top of your boots, and all the hard work of sawing the poor thing down. I always know where our tree is and pretty much what it's going to look like when we set it up. I never step on any sharp needles that have worked their way into the carpet, hiding in the fabric, waiting for me to walk by with bare feet. I don't have to water it and so I don't have to worry about it suddenly turning into a torch in my living room. There's no sap on my hands after I set it up and no adjusting the tree stand-it always fits- and I don't have to find a corner to fit the bad side in. When the kids were little we used to go out and find a tree- which was always a challenge. You would think that in a land that is filled with Spruce and Jack Pines, finding a tree would be no problem... you would think. But NOOOOOO... not in Bottsville. As I recall, everyone had a different idea of what constituted the perfect tree. It usually involved running around until we were all so cold and wet that I was ready to cry, and I finally had to have the last say in what innocent conifer was cut down. There was probably some poor family of Juncos or Wrens off visiting family and when they came to where their home was supposed to be, I was lugging it off. What a jerk! Of course everything is relative. The tree that doesn't look all that large out in the field can hardly fit through the door, much less stand up in an eight foot high living room, so even after you think the hard work is done, it isn't. Surprise! One industrious young fellow up the street decided to cut down my neighbor's Spruce. Why waste time looking for the perfect tree when it's growing in your neighbor's yard? Surprisingly it grew back, but I must admit, it looks a little goofy now. When I was a kid my grandmother spent a few Christmas's with us. The old saying that Christmas is for kids is true, but I think it should be expanded to include old folks too. I had a large family and we all bought presents for each other,so in the days leading up to Christmas as we lay our presents under the tree, it started looking pretty impressive- in a way that folks that subscribe to the minimalist philosophy would find obscene. I still remember Grandma sitting on the couch looking at all the gifts. It was more than she could stand and pretty soon she was leaning over picking up each one reading the names and shaking them. After a few minutes she sat back down and started talking to herself in a voice just above a whisper and I heard her say " I guess no one likes me... I didn't get anything." Of course she did get gifts, she just didn't see them at the time. It was quite comical to watch her on Christmas morning. She enjoyed opening those presents as much as my little brothers did. Grandma has long since passed away, but I still have pleasant memories of her. I hope that all of you make pleasant memories with your family this holiday season, and if you have a real Christmas tree, keep it watered.

Lost in the Fog

2011-12-12T15:26:00.000-08:00

I was coming back from the store or some such place a couple of days ago when the sun started to burn off the fog. I like to get pictures when that happens, it gives the landscape a whole different perspective. Obviously it doesn't do any good to take pictures of the fog before the sun comes out- they would all look the same- kind of like a grey wool navy blanket. In the short time it took for me to get my camera from the house and return, the sun had already dissipated a good deal of what I was trying to capture. Nonetheless, I decided to get a few shots off before it was all gone. Being out on a boat when the fog sets in can be a bit unnerving. I recall one time, before I had a GPS to help guide me, I was in Cross Sound in thick fog. I think I already had the gear in the water before it set in. There were a number of boats in the area and all I had was an old radar that had a hood that you had to look through to see anything. About half the time it didn't work at all, and the other half, I wasn't sure that what it showed was accurate. It was fairly well unnerving to be drifting around like that. One other time I was down near Surge Bay on the outside coast. It was July 4, and I was catching kings at a fairly steady pace. The fog set in and because I was fishing by myself, I had to man the radar. I was watching the tattle-tales- the lines that let me know a fish is on- jumping and bouncing with large king salmon as they struck. Unfortunately I couldn't leave the radar to go pull them in. By the time the fog lifted and I could go out and run the lines, they had all gotten off. To say I was unhappy would be a serious understatement. If Gary Larson, the guy who wrote the comic strip The Far Side had known me personally, he probably could have had an unlimited supply of material to write about. My life reads like one giant comic strip. That's ok though. When my time is up, I want folks to remember me with a smile on their face and laughter in their heart. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, you're taking life way too seriously. I still remember the bumber sticker that my friend Buffalo Bob Holden had on his little aluminum troller. It was a rather bold statement and could apply to fishing as well as life in general. It said simply- Onward, through the fog. How profound. On the one hand I found it rather humorous. I believe it was referring to the state one could find himself in after a night at the bar. On the other hand, it's a declaration of faith. We can't see what's around the bend until we get there. Sooo... whether I'm piloting my boat or navigating through life I guess I'll keep moving onward, through the fog,and hope I don't run aground.

Trident

2011-12-08T13:57:00.000-08:00

Down throught the years I attempted to quit smoking on a number of occasions. When we moved to the farm I actually quit for about five months, though at the time I really didn't want to. When the opportunity presented itself to buy cigarettes, I eagerly took advantage of it. Off and on I would quit for various amounts of time. When I finally made up my mind to quit for good, I needed some kind of crutch to replace the tobacco. I turned to chewing gum. I've always chewed gum to one degree or another, but in the past eight or ten years I went whole hog into it. As you can see, I don't buy gum just by the pack, I buy it by the carton. For one thing, it cost about half as much to buy it by the carton at Costco than to purchase it here in town. Plus, a single pack of gum only used to last me about a day. There are eighteen sticks in one of these Trident packs. Now, unless I'm really stressed over something, I only go through half or three quarters of a pack. When I worked at the school I went through a considerable amount more. I worked with special needs children and it was a good way to calm down a situation or reward good behaviour.

I did a little research on chewing gum and found out some interesting facts. Apparently, people have been chewing some semblance of gum for hundreds of years. In Greece the ladies used to chew the extract from a Mastic tree, while the natives of North America chewed the resin from Spruce trees. In 1848 John Curtis marketed the first commercial chewing gum under the name Maine Pure Spruce Gum. It sounds like something that would appeal to the environmental, all natural groups we have now. I think I would have to pass on it. He later came up with a flavored paraffin that was popular. The first commercial chewing gum utilizing chicle was made by inventor Thomas Adams. The Mexican general, Santa Anna who was exiled to New York introduced Adams to chicle.Like many of his fellow countrymen he chewed chicle. Adams first tried to utilize it as a substitute for rubber in toys, masks and boots but it didn't work. As the story goes he was sitting in his shop discouraged and popped a piece of chicle in his mouth. Shortly thereafter he marketed Adams New York #1 chewing gum. In 1871 he add flavor to his gum and Black Jack was born. I've chewed many a pack of Black Jack gum. My grandma used to get upset at me for chewing it. She thought it was nasty. For her Beeman's pepsin gum was the only way to go. In 1906 the first bubble gum was invented by Frank Fleer. He called it Blibber Blubber and apparently it was a flop. Hmmm... I can't imagine why. How would you like to go to the counter of your local grocers and ask for a pack of Blibber Blubber. You'd probably get slapped. I believe Franks brother eventually had success with another person coming up with some kind of acceptable bubble gum. Contrary to what my mom believed, I didn't chew a lot of bubble gum. I mean if you only had a penny or two, and you didn't want a pretzel, then bubble gum was a good alternative. If I recall correctly, you used to be able to buy a pack of Chum Gum for three cents. That was pretty good stuff. Probably the best bubble gum was the stuff that came in baseball cards. I was never a sports fan, so I could care less about the cards, but once in a while I would buy a pack of cards just for the gum. The Topps company, the folks who made baseball cards used to include them in packs of cigarettes. That would have been an incentive to buy cards when I was a teenager. I read that the reason that there isn't any chocolate gum is that the cocoa butter breaks down the ingredients in the gum. That's ok with me. If I want chocolate I'll go grab a candy bar. Once in awhile I forget to clean out my pockets when I'm doing the laundry. It's only happened a few times, but even once is too often. I open the lid of the washing machine and there are all the little sticks of gum interspersed with the socks and underwear. There's no way I'm going to try and salvage that stuff! Somehow I didn't get all the gum out before I put my clothes in the dryer once and now I have several permanent dark streaks on the drum inside. Fortunately it's seemed to have dried and hasn't transferred to my clothes. It's even better that it hasn't transferred to Jan's clothes or I'd be buying a new dryer. One little oversight and you can be in the dog house forever. I checked the Trident package and see that the manufacturer is Cadbury Adams USA LLC. I think it should be Adams Cadbury. After all, old Thomas came up with the idea. Before I end this post I would like to point out that one of the long time residents here, Adam Greenwald, has an uncle who, according to Adam invented the first workable gum wrapping machine. He sold the patent to Wrigleys and retired a millionaire. Perhaps I should be investing in the Cadbury Adams company. Then if I don't retire a millionaire, at least I might be able to trade in my stock for chewing gum.

Feeding Frenzy

2011-12-02T23:05:00.000-08:00

The ground outside is still covered with tons of snow which I don't find very attractive at all- especially when it's starting to melt. It gets dirty and looks really ugly in my opinion. If I didn't know that there will be many more snow days ahead of me I might get excited about the dirty snow-the dirty, dirty snow. It's usually a sign that spring is coming, but I'm not going to fall for that. A couple days ago the wind was whipping and the rain was falling like pouring pee out of a boot. There was even thunder at about 6:30 in the morning. That's a rather unusual occurrence here. In my thirty five years here, I only recall seeing lightning maybe twice, and I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've heard thunder here. I'm not sure why that is- it may have something to do with all the moisture in the atmosphere here. In any event, I once again am not going to do a blog post on snow. I opted instead to do one on the feeding frenzy going on out front of the Hoonah Cold Storage dock this past summer. Apparently the cold storage just got done grinding some fish parts and the gulls are feasting. It reminds me of the time my daughter Liz came in from the outhouse all distressed. I believe she had gone out to dump the porta-potty and was totally unglued because the flies were in the outhouse feasting. Feasting flies.Where are the frogs when you need them?
This picture is reminiscent of many of the meals at our house when the kids were growing up. I don't know how we did it. One minute there were bowls full of food on the table and the next everything was gone. Nine people sitting at one table. Though there were times of stress and utter confusion, now that I look back on it, I think it was fun. I still hate it if we don't have very many people eating at our Thanksgiving table. This year we only had eight and it almost seemed quiet. The only thing crazier was in the morning when everyone was trying to get ready for school or work. When we first moved into town there was only one bathroom. Good Lord- nine toothbrushes to keep track of, I didn't know they made that many different colors. Fortunately most of those memories have been pretty well blocked out of my mind. With six females in the house you can imagine the chaos. I suspect we bought as much toilet paper as we did bread.We always had a pretty hefty bill running at the store. It seems like laundry was a bit of a challenge too... "Mom!So and So is wearing my underwear again and she's stretching it out! When I look back on it now, its pretty entertaining- not so much so at the time. For those of you with little children, whether many or few, try to embrace each day. For all the challenges that come your way, they do grow up. I promise. Now I think I will go into the kitchen and start my own feeding frenzy. Bon Appetite!

Mushrooms and Flowers

2011-11-29T14:28:00.000-08:00

It's almost the end of November- thank God. This one was brutal, weather-wise. I can't remember having this much snow in November before, but then again,I can't remember the names of people I've known for years either. When I see them at a distance on the street I go through the agonizing process of sorting through all the names in the English language trying to figure out if one of them sounds familiar, then hope it's the right one before I meet up with the person.

I decided to do a blog on something other than the snow that we've been surrounded with. Here we have a picture of snow on the mountain, and here's some snow on the trees, next is snow on the street. Here I am shoveling more snow out of the driveway... I find flowers much more colorful than snow.

Back in October we had rain by the bucket full. Every day-rain, rain, rain. Of course I complained about it so it got cold and then it was snow, snow, snow. Tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor! Anyway, these past several days it's back to rain and you wouldn't believe how glad I am to see it.

When my daughter Autumn was visiting last time she showed me about the macro button on my camera. I'd seen it there, but never bothered to learn what it did. I guess it allows you to get really close pictures. This camera can play music with a slide show, do close ups, landscapes at twilight and any number of other things that I haven't familiarized myself with. There may even be an espresso machine inside, I don't know. By the time you read all the instructions on these digital contraptions your brain has swelled to three times it's normal size and the camera is obsolete. Even if I took the time to read it all, I would have forgotten what I've read. Techno Tom I am not. I'm almost totally dependent on young people to help me do anything involving electronics.I don't even have a cell phone. I guess I'm lost in the dark ages. In any event, I used the Macro button on the camera to take these close up pictures. I rather like them.

I'm not certain, but I think the mushrooms pictured here are Shaggy Manes. I guess they're good to eat if you like mushrooms. Usually I see them growing down at the harbor in the area where people let their dogs relieve themselves. I think I would have to decline if offered one.There are a few folks in town whom I wouldn't mind offering some to- "here, I was just down in the harbor and picked these for you." Sometimes I look kind of like a Shaggy Mane- especially in the morning when I just wake up- and particularly if it's been awhile since my last haircut. There is one teacher here who has a shaggy mane; in fact he looks kind of like a lion the way his hair frames his whole face when he lets it grow. I don't doubt that he could get a leading part in the Lion King if he painted his nose black. He's fairly athletic and talented, he'd probably do a good job. Once again I've covered a whole range of topics that have nothing at all in common. I think it's the sign of a confused mind. If I was working in school I'd probably be told I was -off task. I'll try to stay more focused and on task for my next blog post, but no promises.

Praying for Strangers

2011-11-25T15:30:00.000-08:00

Today is Black Friday, as it's known; the official beginning of the Christmas shopping season. I believe the name is supposed to imply the day that retailers go from being in the red to crossing over to the black-making a profit. As I watch some of the madness unfold on TV of people camping out for a week on a sidewalk so they can be the first person inside to buy a $200.00 flat screen television, or folks getting trampled as they all try to squeeze inside the store at once, or as I saw this morning some lady spraying pepper spray on her fellow shoppers, I wonder if Black Friday wouldn't describe the condition of some of the hearts of the folks who are rushing to celebrate a season that is supposed to be about good will towards men. How ironic.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm terribly cynical, a real pessimist; the male version of a Debbie Downer if you will. I almost always seem to see the glass half empty. No matter how good the situation I'm facing, I have a tendency to spot the possible down side. " Hello Mr. Botts, this is Publisher's Clearing House. You've just won $5,000,000." "Well, gee, that's great, but how much tax is this going to cost me?" No doubt I would be worried about all the scam artists and new found and unwanted friends I would suddenly encounter and would worry myself sick about it. That's kind of the way I am. I wish I wasn't, but I am.I claim to be a Christian and yet at times I seem to be anything but. How ironic.Because that's my nature, I need to surround myself with uplifting, positive things on a regular basis.Soooo... I was happy to find this book at the library a few weeks or maybe a month ago; ok maybe even longer, I know it's overdue. Anyway, I liked the cover art, and when I looked at the title I liked it too. Then I looked at the name of the author- River Jordan. What a great name. How could I not read this book?In a nutshell, it's about a gal whose two son's were in the military in 2008. One was going to be sent to Iraq and one to Afganistan. As a Christian woman she was, of course, going to pray for her boys, but then she got the thought for a New Years resolution. She was going to pray for a different person every day, a stranger. The book documents many of the encounters she had with the various people. In almost every case the folks she came across were grateful for her prayers. Most of them had something in particular that they wanted prayer for, family members, illness, finances. The needs are endless in all of our lives. Her book was enlightening and encouraging. If all of us were to just say a prayer for the stranger we pass on the street or instead of cursing at the TV when a politian we don't like comes on,we asked that God would grant that person wisdom and integrity, I sincerely believe we could change the direction that the world is going. I probably have mentioned Pastor Jeff Schreve of From His Heart Ministry on this blog before. On his web site you can scroll down to a link called Prayer Works. There you have an opportunity to say a prayer for the different needs of folks who have asked for divine intervention. Though we can't all volunteer for the many worthwhile projects the world over, or send money to the countless poor across the earth, we can all say a prayer for someone in need. As the book pointed out, because we're human, we can all use a prayer or two. All that being said, please don't expect that overnight I'll become this grateful,happy, extroverted optimist. I kind of doubt that's going to happen, but I could certainly be a little less cynical and a little more hopeful about the future and my fellow man. Maybe you can pray about it.

Remote Control

2011-11-22T14:39:00.000-08:00

It's been snowing and cold for the past several weeks ; in fact it's been setting records for both snow and cold all around Alaska. It's kind of scary to think that it's not even winter yet. I didn't really want to post any pictures of snow blowing and trees bent with the force of the wind. Instead I decided to post pictures of Rigby. He's got the right idea- hide under the sleeping bag or if you have to leave the warm comfort of bed, find a place in the sun to relax. While I was talking to my daughter Camille the other day, he hopped up on the back of the couch to look out the window. Apparently he saw something that didn't meet with his approval and started barking to beat the band. He's got a really shrill bark, about what you would expect from a small dog. It's really irritating to listen to and especially so if you happen to be talking on the phone or listening to something on TV. I happened to glance down at the remote control on my chair and had another great idea. What if I could get a remote that would control my dog's bark?You know, you're watching your favorite show and the dog goes ballistic because someone he doesn't like is walking down the street. Just hit the mute button on the remote and he can bark all he wants, but no sound comes out. I know that they make shock collars that are supposed to keep them from barking, but what about those rare occasions when you want them to sound off? Like if someone was sneaking in at night while you're sleeping or not at home, instead of a wimpy,little,squeeky bark that would alert the intruder that the dog he was dealing with was just a punk with a loud voice, what if, before you left the house or went to bed, you turned the dial on the dog remote so that the bark sounded like a vicious German Shepard or Doberman Pincer? The intruder would think twice before entering your domain. Especially if he happened to spot huge piles in the front yard.Since I have so many other dogs leaving me gifts on my lawn, I wouldn't have any problem making people believe I had a large dog with the DOG MOTE. Just set it and go to bed. If you happen to live in a gated community where all the dogs aren't much bigger than chipmunks, the DOG-MOTE would come with optional droppings in assorted big dog sizes. They would be plastic or rubber, thus weather resistant and you could move them around the yard to lend an air of authenticity. You could order either the Great Dane or St. Bernard size. No doubt burglars everywhere would think twice before attempting a break in. Just set the DOG MOTE before you tuck Fido into his down comforter and sleep in peace. I guess I'll be contacting the patent office soon.

Part Two

2011-11-17T12:37:00.000-08:00

As promised, here is the second half of my blog post on the latest Thanksgiving get together at Game Creek. The top two pictures show the kitchen; its located in the tabernacle. I remember working in there on the new cabinets with Uncle Bill. I was sanding one of the cabinets when I drove a huge splinter right through my index finger. In one side and out the other. Bill didn't flinch, he just got out his pocket knife and pulled it through. He was always kind of a hero to me. Back when the farm was at it's peak there used to be a number of women in the kitchen cutting vegetables, baking bread and cooking meals It was a pretty busy place. There was a trap door in the floor and underneath there were cases of jarred fish and maybe even some dried vegetables. For some reason there was a number ten can of Hershey's chocolate syrup too. I remember David Carver telling me about sneaking in there one night and opening it up and drinking it out of the can. In the early days we were desperate for anything sweet. Living on a Christian farm didn't mean you automatically acted like a saint. My own sweet daughters told me about sneaking in the back door of the Dietrich cabin where Allen had a small store. He sold popcorn and coffee and a number of healthy snacks, one of which was a Wha Guru Chew. The girls grabbed out a handful of carob chips- a kind of healthy substitute for chocolate. My, if these walls could talk. We lived in an apartment overhead of the dining hall. When the girls were small they used to drop crayons down on the tables through a knot hole in the floor. They got in trouble when one of the elders was holding a bible study downstairs. At the time if I had known that they were doing it I might have filled water balloons for them to drop. Not that I had anything against bible studies, I just didn't like the elders. The eldership and I seldom seemed to see eye to eye. The third picture shows my good friends the Pinards. We still get together for cards on Saturday nights in the winter. There are other couples who lived on the farm with us who moved to Hoonah whom we almost never see. They became almost anti- social and I don't know why hardship brings some folks closer and others it repels. Most of these pictures are taken from inside the tabernacle. I don't know how it is now, but we used to have to all eat together in the dining hall. For some reason when we came together for a meal, we had to have announcements before we ate and had a prayer. Sometimes the announcements lasted for like fifteen minutes so the food would be cold by the time you got to it. It was frustrating. Fortunately we didn't have to wait for this meal this time. At one time everyone was assigned to a particular table and then once a month you rotated so that you were sitting with different people, so you could get to know them better. We had an English gal assigned to sit with us once, but it wasn't a good fit. She was very much into proper etiquette, while we had seven kids, all under the age of twelve. It was mayhem at our table and she wasn't very happy. I used to greet her during the day by saying "Wheaties" instead of "Cheerio". I never knew if she got the joke or not. When the boys were still in high chairs and mimicking everyone, the mistake was made of assigning a family who had an older teen-age son who, when he was young, had been given a dose of some drug by accident that left him with an inability to swallow. He had to push the food down his throat with his fingers. It was kind of unpleasant to watch, but it couldn't be helped. The bad part was that the boys would sit in their high chairs and do the same thing. Jan would slam the table with her hand and try to get them to stop. To say the least it was embarrassing. The fourth picture shows my daughter Jen with her black eye. Beside her is Tim Banaszak and Jim Carey is on the end. I remember watching Tim when he was just a boy of about twelve. He would pack 100 pound bags of potatoes on his back from the root cellar to the tabernacle. Any job that was assigned to him he would do, and with a lot better attitude than I ever had. He was a real work horse, able to do a mans work. He's still got a great attitude and it's always a delight to see him when we meet once or twice a year. Jim Carey is ninety now I believe. I think he's still doing what he can around the farm. At one time he was painting bear breads for sale at Tideland. He was a professional illustrator for General Dynamics prior to moving to the farm. If I ever make it to ninety, I hope I look half as good. Jim has always had the most upbeat attitude, so different from me. He also had a great voice-an Irish Tenor that I used to love to hear. Again, totally unlike me. Unfortunately the next picture is kind of blurry. ( I think Jan took it). The closest gal is Sally Courtney. She was my neighbor in Charleston. I don't know how many gallons of iced tea I drank at her house. She is forever a proper southern lady, with hardly a bad word to say about anyone. Her mother, Rosa Robertson, we all called her Granny, was a sweet gal too. She taught Sally well. I wish I had a picture of her. She was a saint.

Next to Sally is Sonia Bere. Her mother was from the Ukraine. When I found out that the Russian word for Grandma was BABBA, I quickly dubbed her that and seldom referred to her by any other name. She used to work at Tideland Tackle in town and I sorely miss seeing her there. Sonia had a son named Jeff who was one of the three men who died in a boating accident years ago when I was still living at the farm. Next to Sonia is her daughter Debbie Banaszak. She's married to Tim. It was one of a number of farm romances. Good natured and friendly, its always a delight to see her, which usually only happens when they come for the Game Creek Thanksgiving dinner. The next picture shows Bob Clark on the guitar, Ben Mc Luckie with the violin, Dave Austin on the cello (his face is hidden by the post and two young gals whom I don't know. They sang a delightful song called For the Beauty of the Earth. It was beautiful. Bob has been with the farm since the beginning. He's one of those guys who is good at almost everything he does. He's able to figure out most anything. He's a good hunter, fisherman, carpenter, mechanic, welder, musician- you name it. In other words, he's been a tremendous asset to the farm and I'm pleased to be able to call him a friend. Ben is a computer guru and a teacher at the school. I think he recently won an award for work in a statewide science project. When I would see him at the school I'd call him Uncle Ben and ask how the rice sales were, or we'd pass in the hallway and I'd call him O Ben One Kenobi. He was always pretty good natured. Dave runs Tideland Tackle and is a jack of all trades. He's a world class musician and teaches different musical instruments once a week at the school. He also makes bows for musical instruments and I believe he makes his own bi-focals. I don't know how some people end up with so much talent, but they do. The next picture shows the stairs that lead to the path that leads to the road where the cars are parked. When I was on the farm the only way in and out was via boat. Now you can drive to within a mile or so of the buildings. There's a trip through the woods, across a slough, through the fields (watch out for the animal droppings) and down a corduroy road to the center of the camp. There is usually a festive air about the place when we arrive and everyone seems to have a good time.

The last picture is of Libby Clark. That's her maiden name. I can't spell her married name. She's quite a good cook and for awhile she ran a little restaurant in town called, appropriately enough, Libby's. The building now houses Chipper Fish. Next to her is Donna Austin. She's petite, but what a powerhouse! She works at Tideland with her husband Dave and is also a musician. Her and Dave get together and play for different functions around town. Lastly, we have Gary and Rosemary Lebowitz. Theirs was a farm romance also. Ol Brother Gary and I had a few heated discussions from time to time. He was always so zealous in everything that he did; an admirable trait normally. We weren't of the same mind for the majority of the time that I lived at Game Creek though and I was equally stubborn in my ways so there were a few clashes. I'm pleased to say that we've both mellowed out and now when I see him I'm genuinely glad. One of the more interesting things I discovered about Gary was that he worked for a while in New York City with Allen Funt- the guy from Candid Camera. It was a popular show back when I was a kid. His wife Rosemary was an architect prior to moving to the farm. She was very good too. She designed a remodeling job for me at the house. She's always been a very gracious, well spoken woman. So, there you have it. For those who've lived there and couldn't make it, this post might be a time of catching up. For those whom have never visited, perhaps this will be enlightening. Anyway, until the next post, take care- God bless!

Thanksgiving at Game Creek 2011

2011-11-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

Hi folks- Muffin Man here with my sincere apologies to the masses who follow this blog. I know that I've let down the people who come here looking for free entertainment and expect more regular blog posts, but I have an excuse- I really do. I had to go to Juneau for my annual doctor's visit, which actually went very well. As I've mentioned before, I love this doctor. When he asked about the ol' finger up the bung routine to check the prostate I mentioned that my feelings about the procedure haven't changed and it's not going to happen- at least not while I'm conscious. So then he says "well how about my fist then?" That's what I like about this guy. He can look at you in your birthday suit and not burst out laughing and yet we can joke around about serious matters and have a good time. If I wasn't so self conscious and scared of speaking in public, I think we could go on the road and do a comedy routine. Anyway, I was gone from Monday to Thursday night, so I couldn't very well update the blog, so there you have it.

Last Sunday we went out to the annual Thanksgiving feast that the farm at Game Creek puts on. This blog is going to be a two part one because I don't want to have so many pictures on here that it won't download to the Internet. Part one shows some of the scenes from around the farm. Next year I'll strive to get some pictures from the fields and some of the animals. The day itself was nasty- rainy and gloomy like it is usually this time of year. We'd had snow several days before so the road out to the farm was slippery and muddy and the ruts were huge. Even with a 3/4 ton truck hitting some of those pot holes was bone jarring. I should also point out that the snow and rain and gloom make everything look worse. Most of the original buildings are in a state of disrepair, but that's no surprise, when they were built we were told the world was going to be ending in five years so it wasn't like they had to last forever. I have mixed feelings when I look around there. I hate to see the place getting run down, but the good news is there are several young families moving in who are experienced builders and who have the energy and the expertise to turn things around. I'm looking forward to seeing them in action and perhaps even lending a hand. While the buildings are less than stellar, the spirit of the people was encouraging. The difference between what it was like when we lived there and now is like night and day. With time, attitudes have changed, and while the buildings may be getting run down, the spirits of the residents are shining bright. I'm looking forward to the day when the buildings are a reflection of the people within them. Part two of this post will show some of the people from the Thanksgiving feast. Now I have to get ready to clean up the mess I've made in the kitchen. The other day when I was at Costco I happened to see a lovely gal from Hoonah named Daphne. She goes by the name Duffy. Anyway,she asked if I would bake something for the school carnival tonight, so I made a batch of blueberry and sour cream muffins. I'm saving one out for her to try- a Duffy Muffin; a Duffy muffy; a Duff muff. I better quit while I'm ahead- if its not too late already. See ya!

Spasski River

2011-11-02T17:25:00.000-07:00

There's something about water that seems to attract human beings to it like moths to a flame. Perhaps it's because Earth is the only planet in the known universe that has water. At least that's what I think I read or heard somewhere. I'm not sure where I picked that up. I once read the back of a Bazooka Joe bubble gum comic that stated that all white cats are deaf too. I don't know if that's true or not, but if you can't believe Bazooka Joe, who can you believe? There are a lot of songs and movies and I would assume books that mention water in their title. My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, A River Runs Through it, On Golden Pond, Yellow River ( I think there have been a few jokes about that) Over the River and Through the Woods, and Bridge on the River Kwai to mention just a few. The top picture is the bridge on the river Spasski. I doubt that there will ever be a movie about it, it doesn't have the same catchy wording, but what do I know about anything? Maybe someone will write a book about it and a movie producer will scarfe it up and low and behold it will be an oscar winner. I kind of doubt it though. This picture was taken about a month ago, when there were still green leaves to be found. Whenever we go over the bridge we end up stopping to look down below and see if there are any fish in it. At this particular time there were still a number of Humpies finning and I believe a few Cohos. The Humpies were looking pretty tough. Once they hit the fresh water they start to deteriorate. Those that we saw looked like they had already spawned and were just waiting for the grim reaper to come and collect his dues. They are probably what inspired Alaskan artist Ray Troll to draw the ever popular Humpies From Hell poster. He's an incredibly talented artist who lives in Ketchikan and has a studio there. He primarily paints pictures depicting fish in strange and wonderful situations- haunting the dreams of a fisherman, riding a bike and so on. I saw one poster advertizing Creek Street, where both men and fish go to spawn. I guess it was a red light district that bordered a freshwater stream. Hmmm...sex and fishing- what's not to like? Oh well, back to safer subjects. I would kind of like to take my canoe on a little trip down the Spasski River. I think it kind of leaks, although probably not that bad. As you can see, the river is pretty shallow too, so I suppose I could always get out and walk the spots where the canoe wouldn't float. The bad part is that there are logs that go across the river. If I should happen to get into a strong current and tip over the canoe and get jammed up against the logs I'd be just like one of those Humpies- bear food. I guess I'll probably be content just looking at the river from the top of the bridge and let the fish figure out how to get around the bears.

Jennifer

2011-10-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that some people just seem to be naturally unlucky? It's not really their fault, not like some of the boneheads that took out a loan for a half million dollar house on a McDonald's salary and then complain that they're losing their home. No, I'm talking about people who do all the right things and still get the short end of the stick. I watched one fellow down at the harbor with his boys, trying to spend some quality time with them fishing. They couldn't get the rod to cast very far, so they asked their dad to cast it for them. He grabbed it, went to cast out and the rod went flying into the drink. I was across the dock watching this with mixed feelings of compassion and humor. He managed to get the rod back and decided to spray the reel with WD40. Somehow he got the can turned around and squirted himself in the eye. At that point compassion went out the window and I laughed my head off. Sorry- that's just the kind of jerk I am I guess. I've decided to do a post on my oldest daughter Jennifer. When Jan was pregnant with her, we had recently seen the movie, Summer of '42. I had a bit of a crush on Jennifer O'Neal, the actress, and I wanted to name our daughter Jennifer, so we did, and so she remained until sometime back when she shortened it to Jen. Maybe it took too long to sign her full name, I don't know. Anyway, Jen is one of those folks who seem to experience bad luck or misadventure more than most normal people. Especially when she's traveling. On one trip to Oregon with her family they were in a parking lot I believe, and parked near a car that was towing a sailboat. Well, somehow the mast fell over and smashed their rental car. How bizarre is that? Another time she was at the Hilton in Anchorage. I think she'd had some kind of surgery on her knee, so she couldn't get around that well. She had her luggage with her and was waiting for the elevator. She noticed a lady who was obviously inebriated leaning against the elevator door. Jen was afraid the lady would fall inside when the door opened.Somehow she managed to stay upright when it arrived and Jen motioned for her to go inside first. For some reason the lady took offense and started chasing Jen around the hotel lobby. So here she was hobbling around the Hilton Hotel lobby,dragging her suitcase like it was a pull toy, with a drunk chasing her. She finally found refuge behind the counter. Oh Lordy, always something. When our youngest daughter,Autumn got married in Anchorage, it was during the height of the tourist season, so most of the hotels were booked. Jen and her family had to stay in a hotel downtown. She said they could look down in the parking lot and witness drug deals and was a little freaked out, so when she went into the room, she locked the door with a deadbolt. Well, the walls are thin and someone knocked on a door down the way from them, but Jen thought they were knocking on her door, so she went to open it, forgetting that she had the deadbolt engaged. She ended up pulling the whole door out- frame and everything! While she was standing out in the hallway pounding the frame back in place with her fists, an old couple came by looking at her, mouths agape. I'm sure they wondered what kind of sluffo sleepery they were in. I doubt that Jen or the old folks will frequent that establishment again. Her latest adventure involved a trip down to Craig, Alaska for a music festival. My granddaughter Ashia was in the honors band- first chair trumpet. Jen went down to be with her and enjoy the great music. She apparently went into the restroom and as she got to the stall, the door opened hard and smacked her in the face. The end result is this shiner she has. She's being awfully good natured about it though. For the Halloween fun walk at the school, she's thinking about getting some boxing gloves and dressing up like a prize fighter. You go girl!

Deep Thoughts

2011-10-26T15:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many folks who read this remember watching Saturday Night Live when they had a little performance called Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy. The announcer would come on and read a script that you could follow along with. It was always presented in a serious contemplative voice, but the content would be foolish, like: "I often wonder if I dug a deep enough hole in the earth if I would reach China, or would it actually lead to the Phillippines?" For some reason when I saw this picture of Jan and Kaylahni I thought of Jack Handy. They both look like they are in deep thought about something. This is another set of pictures taken out at Whitestone Harbor where Jan was a little concerned about being in a confrontation with a bear. She doesn't look all that worried here. Maybe she's thinking about what we're going to have for supper. I bet she's not even considering BBQ'd socks. She was probably checking out all those rocks on the beach and wondering how many trips I could make to the truck lugging rocks for the garden before I passed out. My granddaughter looks to be seriously in thought about something too, but it's probably not rocks or what she's having for supper. I really don't know what 9 year old girls think about. You'd think I would have some idea- I had five girls who all passed that age. I can't recall exactly what I thought about at that age, probably building forts or riding bikes or some such thing. I remember at somewhere around that age the guy up the street came back from California. He was a Beatnik. That's what they were called in the days before hippies.He had a pony tail and a beard and was a fairly interesting character.Now that I think of it, the Cheetos Cheetah kind of resembles him. He fancied himself an artist and set up shop in his folks garage painting nudes. That in itself was plenty interesting, but what really took the cake was that he tossed all his old Playboy magazines outside the garage door. Talk about something transforming your life! My friends and I went from knuckleheads throwing rocks at each other in the alley to sophisticated gents reading magazines.Actually I don't think we read a single word, except perhaps the title of the magazine. It told us all we needed to know. We retreated to a neighbor's barn with our treasure and had lengthy discussions of the female form. I can't remember what happened to our stash. No doubt some of the older neighborhood boys saw our repeated trips to the barn and made off with our prize. Ah well, after that childhood wasn't the same. We'd been exposed to another facet of life that left us with deep thoughts indeed.

The Library

2011-10-21T16:25:00.000-07:00

I decided to do a post on the library today. Actually I wanted to do it yesterday, but then the internet crapped the bed so to speak. I had actually planned on doing a post on some deer ribs that I barbequed, but my camera battery was in need of recharging. It was an equipment rebellion. BBQ ribs sound good, but they weren't. No offense to my son Brian, but they were ribs from a deer he shot last year. The boys always like to get these monster bucks with the big horns. They look impressive, but if you wait too long in the season, they literally stink. The buck I killed last year was shot before he really started seriously into the rut, so the meat was great. I gave away the ribs to an older couple up the street because I knew that they liked them, and I usually don't eat them. It's a lot of work to get the meat off of the bones so as a rule I don't deal with them. For some unknown reason we decided to hang on to the ribs from Brian's deer. I had other meat in the freezer, so I kept putting off cooking them. Well, they've been taking up space for the better part of a year, so I finally bit the bullet and cooked them. What a mistake! The smell of that gamey meat cooking permeated the whole house. It worked it's way into my clothing and for most the night I kept getting wiffs of it. Frankly, it was rather nauseating. After it was boiled, I had to cut off as much fat as I could, and let me tell you- that deer was fat! Deer fat isn't like beef fat. You could easily make candles or soap out of it. You have to be careful that you don't clog the sink with it when you go to clean out the pot. I finally put the ribs in BBQ sauce and took them out to the grill. It helped to grill them, but they still tasted gamey. Fortunately Jan ate the lions share of them. She likes most anything with BBQ sauce on it. If times get too tough I'll experiment with some old socks- socks and sauce, mmm, mmm. Probably pretty filling and no doubt lots of fiber. Of course none of this has anything to do with the library, which is supposed to be what this post is about, but how entertaining is the library? It's a pretty serious place, filled with pretty serious people.It's kind of like a hospital. You don't go to the hospital to hang out with your friends; it's pretty much the same with the library. No one says,"hey Bob, I'll meet you at the library, maybe have a few beers, check out an atlas and possibly research the Dewey decimal system. It'll be fun!" No, usually going to the library is a solitary event. You don't need friends along to look at books-heck no. They'd just try to influence your decision. You might be there looking for a good murder mystery and they're trying to get you to check out a romance novel. Friends at the library could be distracting. You might want Robert Fulghum and they're trying to steer you to Danielle Steele. That's where I think a good shock device like an electric cattle prod would come in handy. I think every librarian should have one; then if someone is talking too loud or a kid is running up and down the isles, instead of saying SHHH! or wishing the parents would control their kid, a quick little zap and a call to the janitor to clean up afterwards and order is restored.An astute librarian would see the dilema of an unwanted suggestion from a friend and with a threatening look and a gaze towards the prod, she would be able to deter the offender and you could continue browsing the "new releases" shelf in peace.Our present librarian is Terri Budke- that's her in the bottom picture. I think she's just pretending to be looking at the computer- I suspect she's probably contemplating writing a grant to get a cattle prod.