One more reason I get to see my parents this year...

Thumbing to Colorado II

The Fall hitchhiking trip to Colorado was so much fun, I went again in the Spring of ’70 with my college roommate of four years, Roy. Roy’s dad was an employee of Penn Central Railroad, so we two “brothers” picked up a Penn Central passenger train (pre-AMTRAC) in Syracuse, NY and rode it free as far west as we could go (St. Louis, MO). So our thumbing adventure really began in St. Louis.

Unbelievably, we again stood by the side of the road for 11 hours in Kansas City. Not quite true…I remember very clearly that I stood by the side of the road while Roy slept beside the road. Finally, a sedan drove by and stopped about 100 yards beyond where we were standing. We ran up to meet it and then noticed that the car had five guys in it. From that point here’s how the dialog went:

“You seem to be too full already.”

“No, really, we can fit you in. Come on, get in. We’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“No, I don’t think so. That’s not going to work.”

“You got any money?”

Sensing that the conversation had reached a practical stopping point, we ran as fast as we could go back down the freeway, and thankfully they chose not to follow. This was the most dangerous situation I encountered on either trip.

Other encounters were more humorous. One in particular was fitting payback for Roy’s sleeping through the visit to Kansas City. A lone young man stopped to pick us up later in Kansas. I climbed in the back seat intent on sleeping, and Roy climbed in front to provide some company for the driver. Soon, I heard the driver ask Roy if he had asked Jesus into his life. We called them Jesus freaks back then, and I was snickering to myself in the back seat, thankful to be pretending to be asleep. Roy later berated me for not saving him.

Later in Kansas, we were picked up by a Volkswagen van filled with hippies, tapestries on the windows, and blankets on the floor where rear seats normally were found. One long-haired guy turned out to be another hitchhiker, and he was stoned out. He moved very slowly and began unfolding a road map of Kansas in a very slow and deliberate manner. Once it was open, he cocked his head and turned the map in several directions before pulling out a pencil and drawing circular shapes in the corners of Kansas, along with the midpoints of the northern and southern borders of Kansas. When he was satisfied with his creation, he looked at me and asked,

“If Kansas was a pool table, how big do you think the pool balls would be? I think they would be the size of tractors.”

I concluded that a conversation with this guy would probably be less satisfying than finding a corner to sleep in, so I curled up in one of the blankets.

Roy had a friend, Dan, at Denver University, so that was our destination. We arrived on a Friday and that evening the Student Union was throwing a party to introduce a new beer, and the beers were free (no sweeter words were ever heard by a college boy’s ears). It was a fun night, with good music and I danced barefoot with the same girl for the entire night on a dance floor covered with about ½-inch of beer. The group continued our celebrating well after the party at the Union concluded, and we decided next day to head for the mountains.

As we headed west out of town on Denver’s busiest freeway, we stopped, lined up on the shoulder, and released some used beer into the roadside ditch (first clue that we were not yet sober). Our trip to the “mountains” went as far as Evergreen, where I was impressed that Evergreen Lake was still ¾-covered with ice, so I dove in with my clothes on (second clue). The reward for my bravery was that I was considerably wet and chilly on the ride back into town. We enjoyed the rest of our stay at the university, but had overstayed our allotted Spring Break time in Denver, and so headed back East.

North of downtown Denver, a trooper picked us up while hitchhiking. I’m sure we got the obligatory lecture, but what I remember most was that he picked us up and took us to the end of his jurisdiction and dropped us off on an entrance ramp where we could continue on outside his area of responsibility. I guess we didn’t look like hardened criminals.

We were very tired by the time we reached Columbia, MO. A couple of Missouri coeds picked us up and offered us a place to stay for the night. We were running out of time, so we told them we had to keep going (I guess our spirit of adventure had reached its lowest setting at that point). We reached the train station in St. Louis, climbed aboard the train, turned a set of seats backwards so they faced toward us, stretched out, and slept all the way back to New York City’s Penn Central Station.

By special request, I will describe my first trip to Colorado as a young adult without the rest of my family. In November 1969 I was 18 years old, a freshman at Cornell University, and students at the school were given a week off to vote and work on behalf of their favorite candidate. At that time I had just had a cast removed from my wrist that had been with me since September when a 265 lb defensive tackle landed on my wrist during a half-speed football drill the day before a freshman game. That ended my football career in college and after all that time in a cast I wasn’t in the mood to go home and support my local candidate.

So, an engineering school buddy, Tom Molloy, and I decided to hitchhike to Colorado just for the adventure. We made it to Western New York through a series of short hops and somewhere near Buffalo we were picked up by a big Mexican guy with really colorful new western boots that he was very proud of, driving a medium-sized straight truck. Before we had gone too far, we learned that he was returning to San Antonio after dropping off a load of migrant farm workers in New York. Being a pretty naïve Midwestern guy, I had no clue whether to even wonder if the workers were in this country legally or not. Even if I had known at the time, I’m sure it wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other.

What really mattered was that this guy was very friendly and genuine. He admitted that he was lonely and picked us up just so that he would have someone to talk to. What I remember is that he talked ALOT about very personal things. It could be that he was trying to get some things off his chest, but I don’t really think that was it. I think he was truly lonely and also very open with his emotions, and Tom and I were fascinated by his story.

Somewhere around Kentucky he asked us to consider riding all the way to San Antonio with him just to keep him company. San Antonio seemed way out of the way for the short time we had available, so we thanked him for his generosity and he dropped us off in St. Louis. There were really only two things I remember about the travel between St. Louis and Colorado. One was that we spent about ten hours by the side of the road with our thumbs out in Kansas City. No one gave us a ride and Kansas City went to the top of my least favorite cities list. Shortly after we left Kansas City, we got a ride from an over-the-road trucker. I remember being really surprised that a trucker picked us up, but he soon explained that he was behind on making entries in his logbook. The authorities were unlikely to ask to see his logbook if they saw that there was somebody else as passenger who most likely was keeping up with the logbook. It also worked great for Tom and I because we alternated chatting with the driver as passenger and catching some zzzzz’s in his sleeper compartment.

I don’t recall anything in Denver, because we didn’t know anyone there and our hearts were set for the mountains, so we headed right up to Aspen. We wandered around that great little place (back in 1969 it was still pretty earthy). We asked around about places to stay and some kids our age directed us to The Snow Chase, a rustic little place just a few yards from the No. 1 lift on Aspen Mountain. We walked into the place and there were kids all over, including some playing cards with the little 65-year- old lady that owned the place. We asked her if she had a room available and she replied that she didn’t. We must have had some pretty long faces because she laughed and said that all she had was beds at $2/night (which was probably one of the last times you could spend the night on the side of Aspen Mountain for $2). She said her biggest reward was playing cards with young people and that’s why the beds were so cheap.

She showed us to a room with several bunk beds in it. That was the best bed I ever slept in. The room was fairly chilly, but there was about 12 inches of down quilts on each bed and once under those covers, I was completely zonked until the next morning. When I got up in the morning, I looked up on the mountain and saw the little old lady driving down the mountain in her Jeep with her dog sitting beside her and a deer draped across the back of the Jeep. She had it hung up in the tree beside The Snow Chase before I even ventured outside.

That night we went to a party at an Aspen home that someone had told us about and we found ourselves dazzled by the people and activity at this Rocky Mountain mecca. John Denver had not yet moved to Colorado or released Rocky Mountain High, but for all I know he may have been at that party. We didn’t stay in Aspen long, and were soon roaming the University of Colorado in Boulder where we heard some great music. I bought a simple backpack with the image of a cyclist on it and the name of the store, “The Spoke,” written on it that I used as a book bag for several years after that.

We were looking on the Ride Board at the Student Union for someone headed east, and found a Hippie guy that was headed to New York City the next day. He had a VW bus with a mattress behind the front two seats and a 3-month old fuzzy puppy that was very happy to meet a couple of new people. The four of us headed east, a cloud of smoke both inside and behind the van as I recall, alternating as driver, passenger, and sleeper (with puppy). We drove straight through to NYC, where Tom and I hitched back to Ithaca.

Cage Kitty

We had an 8mm movie screening at my house recently, wish the whole family coulda been there, especially for the "cage kitty" sequence.... OH, and also Isaac's tractor training! That boy was meant for heavy equipment!

about being a mom...

The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

about being a dad...

"He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it." ~Clarence Budington Kelland

Surprise

I found this film inside the 8mm camera I brought back up to Seattle. It was undeveloped but thoroughly exposed so I sent it off to Kansas to be developed. Two weeks later I throw it onto my projector and voila! It's long lost footage of me as a baby....

Mother and Daughter

I just can't get over this photo. Love, love, love.

Now, this will really be short! I just want to share my newest favorite thing to do. Do not tell anybody because this is just our secret.

What I love to do most is to sit in the dining room appearing to be playing some idiotic game on the computer, when (our secret, remember) in reality I am listening to the voices coming from the family room. Usually it is Martha, Rick, Tom, Ashley and their friends--Krystle, Ben, Charles--and sometimes, Dave. I can't actually hear what they are saying, only the tones of their voices while conversing and then raucous laughter. Even the dogs and cats join in in their own way. It is just so wonderful and reminds me why life is good.

What is missing? The voices of Joe and Rachel. But I need to just get over that, huh?

I do not have time for this . . .

So, yeah, I do not have time for this, but I will write 1 (ONE) paragraph and that is it just because I told myself I would and I haven't.

The thing I need to write about is our latest incidents of bats in the house. It began (as bat stories always do) with someone (Dave) cutting a hole in a wall (the ceiling of the kitchen cuz the roof won't quit leaking) somewhere and the bats, who (that) have lived up wherever forever saying "thank you so much, yes, we will come on in." They don't do this right away, but they wait until you are not expecting a bat to come flying past you and whoosh there they go. The first one had a furry face--Tom and Rick took a photo of it . . . looking Dracula-like--Dave IDed it as a brown bat. Then that night or the next night he came back (cuz they let it go outside) and Tom woke up to Dharma (our shy cat) beating the crap out of one on the table. Tom again flung the bat outside (we don't catch on) and thought he saw Dharma heading after another one which then disappeared. Okay--now Dave put some cardboard up to block the hole. I am never home, I thought, so this really has little affect on me except if everyone gets rabies. I head up to the bedroom to do some mending . . . swoop! a little bat appears and then disappears (evidently the disappearing one from earlier). Yipes--I call the brave and awesome Dave who finds the little frightened critter on top of the curtain rod and takes him to the great outdoors. Darn this is really where I wanted to begin this paragraph so let's make it 2 (two) paragraphs.

What it made me start thinking about was how bats really do act "batty" and how squirrels act "squirrelly" and how many ways humans compare behavior and appearance with animals and insects in language and literature, i.e. busy as a bee, stubborn as a mule, quiet as a mouse (except the ones I had in the walls of my house when I was 21 years old). We only can imagine that we soar over the rooftops or spin a web or jump as graceful as a gazelle. I can see why women can be foxy or men perhaps wolves, but I don't see how being "a dog" could ever be bad. Someone goofed.

Being Here and Now

It's the middle of the night and I don't know what wakened me. Once awake, I began thinking about all the history that I should be recording and that there isn't time to do it and also have a current life. I visited Mom today, and she didn't know who I was. This is new--she usually knows me. I would say she knew that she knew me--but couldn't recall how. I am upset, and I wasn't ever going to be ready for this. Now I think "why didn't I record her sweet voice when she was able to make more sense?" So--freaked out--that's what I am. She has been baffled with recognizing the grandkids for quite awhile. Were you kids this upset? I don't recall that (because, you know, it's all about me).

I just finished a CD book called "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle--narrated by himself. It was one of those books that is a journey, beginning with me mocking his Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. I reeled at his extreme monotone and his terminology as I listened, but I kept listening. By the end of the book, I was humbled by his understanding of where people are "coming from" in their everyday actions. His instructions for assessing each situation were useful and astute.

What that has to do with Mom: He talks a lot about not living in the past or the future, but rather in the present. This is something I heard so long ago--but I wasn't ready to listen. Today is what I have with Mom, and we did have a nice visit. She's still in there. I just have to look very closely.

Can I go back to sleep now?

Day of Anticipation

We're getting ready to go to the lake today. Don't get extremely jealous, but they're predicting thunderstorms. We love to be at the lake during thunderstorms. It is just incredible.

We just bought a used paddle boat and I'm just excited all in all about every dang thing. I have a few grasses and plants to take along that I got free via Cathy's many gardening connections--and I've been trying to replace window treatments from hell that need attention. So, though I go intending to totally relax, I do have tasks in mind. These are some plants I've never tried before, so I'm eager to see what they do:)

It's an inherited thing. Dad (Chuck) always had a list of things to do--even carried 3x5 cards in his pocket to add ideas as they hit him. I remember coming back from vacation once because Dad planned to paint the porch on his vacation. It's a sickness. I do get stuff done, though.

I saw a wise saying at a garage sale yesterday. It said "Don't confuse having a "to do" list with having a life. I will keep that in mind--after I finish my tasks!

Spring--When the Swallows Return to the Parking Garage

I was aiming to post only every two weeks because, well, I have nothing to say !! BUT, for two months I have been fretting about the fate of my favorite part of spring in Omaha: when the swallows return to the parking garage. The facilities drones had put up soft mesh "screens" around practically every orifice of the garage to keep out the devil swallows that they say build nests on the pipes and corrode them. I say "get more durable pipes!!"

The joyous news is that the swallows don't need all of the orifices, they only needed the entrance that we walk through (can't close that), and they are building their nests like maniacs. Probably a dozen or so, they are too charming chattering away in their tuxedoes and swooping in and out, in and out. The mesh nets are falling into ruins because repairmen are working on the garage and messing up the nets. All that worrying was for nothing. I just couldn't help it, though. They really are my favorite part of spring.

Me Happy

My friend said to me the other day, “don’t you wish you could be a kid again?” It got me thinking that anyone who feels that way was blessed with a happy childhood. Yes, it was great to be the center of the universe for a time. It stirred up all these feelings of gratitude to my parents for struggling to make us feel safe and loved and free, yet somewhat controlled and responsible and connected at the same time.

Then, even without caffeine, my brain continued on this trend thinking about the blessings that came to me when I met Dave, who allowed me to make all my own choices (sometimes I didn’t even want to) and sat back calmly whether I excelled or loafed. It’s called freedom, and even in this land of the free, too many people are oppressed.

This leads to the love our children give back to us. It is beautiful and overwhelming at the same time. It feels a bit like a circle but it is really more like a coil that circles round yet continues on and on. I think that is the happily ever after part.

Sometimes I feel so naïve when I come up with these moments of awareness and then I think I am a dang moron because everyone else realized this stuff at age 20. And that’s what just keeps my life so interesting. Every moment I’m coming closer to catching up with everyone else.

Fever Pace

Work is becoming increasingly crazy with each day as we approach finals week (next week). This is the time when, almost without fail, our copy machine decides to crap out. And that's what happened today, although it is still copying. It just won't staple things until a new part arrives. Now that only means that we have to staple all the final exams MANUALLY, but because I am so very seasoned, I recall when we not only had to staple manually, we also had to collate everything one dang sheet at a time. It's a leap backwards to a slower-paced world. Believe me, I appreciate the superior machines and all the work that they save me, but . . .

It reminds me a little of when the power goes out and everyone sits around the candles for a bit waiting for the power to return. Then the conversations start, and then things get creative and about the time you begin roasting marshmallows over the candles, the lights come on. It's a little disappointing, truly.

I don't expect to get all "into" stapling, but there's probably a mantra for stapling, donchathink?

Lame Ramblings

Yes, this is going to be lame. I am tired and feeling rather boring. I just felt bad about neglecting the blog (like I need something else to tend). Grumble, grumble. And I thought it might get me back in the groove if I just mutter aimlessly here and hope to have something real to say next time. So do any of you kids know why ALL of the keys are sticking on the keyboard. It couldn't have anything to do with all the racket down here one of the nights that Joe visited, could it????

Good news! Just when I feared that we would run out of weddings (there have been about 5 or 6 in the past year that Joe and Rachel came back to attend--one more scheduled in September), I find out that Tony Vaccaro is getting married in November!!! If we can just keep this up, we'll be seeing Joe and Rachel more than if they lived here. :)) Me happy.

Someone tell me how to sign this, please.

Mama

The Henney-mobile

I think that when I was in High School my parents must have stayed home a lot, because I got to drive the family car quite a bit. In fact, I used it so often that my friends called our vehicle the Henney-mobile. I actually think mom and dad were pleased that it got used so often to transport huge numbers of high school buddies around the city of Madison, WI. My friends and I were mostly athletes and cheerleaders, so we would pile in the Henney-mobile and go off to games, meets, matches,... If we were paricipating, of course, we would be bussed by the school, but we also went to other high school's events or events for sports that we weren't involved in.

One of the reasons the Henney-mobile was so popular was that it was a full-size 1965 Dodge van and I could carry a lot of kids. We once got 22 guys and gals into the van on one of our excursions.

You know what, though, there are disadvantages to having a popular vehicle. A small group of us used to do "commando raids." Started off with toilet-papering trees and houses, and then we would get a little more creative. We once saw a friend's little Corvair parked at his girlfriend's house. So, we picked up his car and moved it so the front wheels were resting on his girlfriend's front porch and the car was facing toward the front door. Then we rang the doorbell.

So, the problem was that many people in the neighborhood recognized the Henney-mobile and it was difficult to get away with stealthy exploits while driving the Henney-mobile. We put a cherry-bomb in a kid's mailbox once and blew it up. When we came back around to inspect the damage, the guy and his dad saw us and the kid recognized us immediately. Resulted in a late-night visit from the police department. My dad was of course not happy with my actions, but he also said that I should have known better than to use that van and expect to get away unnoticed.

A Beaver Creek Proposal

Joe's proposal to Rachel seemed so romantic, sunset in the middle of Sparks Lake while on a camping trip and all. It struck a familiar chord for me as my proposal to Barb also was offered on a camping trip. In a canoe in the middle of the lake? Well no, in my 4WD GMC pickup truck as we drove to Beaver Creek, CO for a weekend campout with our good friends, the Greisers.

Barb will surely expand upon what remains in my often abbreviated memory, but as I recall the proposal went something like this, "so, you wanna get married?" "Well, OK." Its a good thing I have other attributes that Barb finds appealing, because romance and recollection of those events where I have attempted it are certainly not what I am noted for.

There are hundereds of Beaver Creeks in the USA, and more than one in Colorado, but this was one of our favorite places and became even more so after the proposal. It is a 4-wheeling, fishing, camping, and wild kind of place centered in the Colorado Rockies:We got to Beaver Creek and pulled off the road. I locked in the 4WD, but Mike's pickup was 2WD, so he "aired down" the tires to give him better traction and off we went bushwhacking. We didn't go very far off the road, but I can't remember seeing another vehicle or person all weekend.

My littered memory otherwise remembers two other things about this weekend (maybe Barb will return from tennis soon and add some other more meaningful memories):

• we made a cobbler of some sort over an open fire, but it was more than we could eat, so I covered the creation and stored it in the bed of the pickup, where it later cast itself onto the sides of the bed as we negotiated the 4WD roads on the way out; (Barb sez "picture bright red cherry cobbler strewn over the snow covered truckbed")


• we slept in a tiny little green backpacking tent and were totally surprised when we awoke the next morning with over a foot of snow engulfing most of the tent.

Okay, Barb here, to add my 2 cents worth! I am always looking for basic luxuries (?) when camping, and I recall Dave and Mike promptly building us a latrine--a sturdy branch secured to a couple of trees we could sit on in the woods to take care of business :) A fine, fine work of art. It was hardly used before the big snow came and we thought we should at least get to a road before the weather became more severe.

I was ecstatic about the snow (except when we woke up with the tent smashed on our faces). The tent was a little two person tent and we were cozy in there with Olga and Rocky, our dogs. Greisers brought their cats, Big Foot and Sam.

When we were in a more secure spot (knowing we could get out), we stopped and made some little snowmen. It was something I missed from Nebraska--having enough good snow to build a snowman.

Some old photos

I've been carrying around a bag of old film for the past eight years. The photos were destroyed in a freak rain storm while I was living in San Diego but I kept the film. For my birthday, Rachel had the photos put onto a CD for me. Most of the pictures came out OK despite a little water damage. I thought I would share a few of my favorites....

I did not eat a bagel . . .

Rachel said we should blog if we eat a bagel, cuz Joe wants to hear what we are doing. I didn't eat a bagel, sorry.

We did have a productive few days and I am so excited that I have to share it with y'all.

Dave went out to our little cabin on Friday and singlehandedly removed four layers of shingles from the roof. What a superman. The roof has been leaking for years and years. That's why I am so excited. It was way past due.

On Saturday, Martha and Rick went out about noon and Tom and I got there a while later. (my brain wouldn't work--I left behind half of what I wanted to pack. Sheesh). Dave, Rick, and Tom put up plywood sheets to cover the old roof while Martha and I picked up the four layers of shingles that Dave had thrown on the ground the day before.

Dave and I spent the night and it was pleasantly cold. In the morning David Ambrose (one the profs where I work) came out at the crack of dawn to help, because he really talked Dave and I into getting this steel, snap together roofing. They put up the tarpaper and began to put up the roof--just like that. I continued to gather the shingles. Martha, Rick, and Tom all came out around noon and David A. left now that the new crew arrived. The roof came in premeasured sheets --about ten or twelve per the two sides of the roof. They worked and worked and voila! a roof. It is shiny and loverly and should last forever, they say.

Martha and I hauled everything we could out of the attic and started tearing down the drywall ceiling, because it was horrible even before it had been leaked on. I was on a mission and confess that I broke several things as I ruthlessly tore down the chunks of ceiling. The fam left cuz Cathy and I had planned to have a peaceful overnight on Sunday, but when she (and Jim, too) arrived I only had 2/3 of the ceiling down. We continued to rip with a vengence. Now it is bare rafters and I could look at that for a long time till I need to finish it. It's great!!!

Now, I want a bagel.