I was laying in bed looking out the window and listening since sleep was not happening.

Tonight’s episode is on noises. One gets used to noises and which belong or don’t belong. The night time here is usually quieter with some exceptions.

One patient across the hall has a snore fit for a mummy movie. It will be ‘urrahhg’ most of the night. Another one has a snore right out of a cartoon. I think they synchronize because it’s ‘urrahgg wee wee wee wee’ all night.

My back is expressing it’s displeasure with me again today so here goes.

The subject is losing touch with friends and family.

I recently got a message to call a cousin in Texas who I hadn’t talked to in years.

I remember going to his folks house a couple of times when I was young. Dad’s cousin, whom he always called Junior, put me on a half broke horse. It would run around and throw me off. The area he had it in had soft material to land in so I thought it was great fun and kept wanting to go again. I was around five and Dad was okay with it but Mom not so much.

I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.

Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.

Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.

It’s almost June and that brings back summertime memories.

I have one acquaintance who spent summers cruising around Lake Washington on a 40 foot boat, which to me at the time would classify as a yacht.

My Dad’s older sister, Joyce and family lived on the river in Pasco. They had a ski boat docked at the house and a cabin cruiser at a Richland marina. Prior to them moving down there, we met them at Rimrock to spend time on the smaller cruiser they had then. It became stormy and the water was rough and it was raining so hard that we were told to keep inside. It was a quick turnaround to the dock.

Happy Birthday Mom!

She would have been 92 today.

I got to spend 60 birthday’s with her and am very grateful.

Mom wasn’t the kind to want much for her birthday. Maybe a few dahlia bulbs or a rose or two.

My Dad was not able to cook very well and damned sure didn’t understand how to buy for Mom. One year he bought her this awful one piece lounging suit at Mode o Day. It was shiny blue, quilted, had bell bottom legs, and a neck to crotch zipper. The day she tried it on is the only time I think she ever wore it.

Today I’m going to discuss skills we acquire. Actually some of them are more like Letterman’s stupid pet tricks.

I have the arthritis driven weather prediction skill. Mom and Steve also had this and all of ours started with knee surgeries. There is a different ache for snow and Mom and I would often compare notes on our predictions.

When I was coaching grid kids we had a Saturday playoff game in Grandview in November. It was almost 70 and beautiful. One of my assistant coaches saw me rubbing my knee and asked about it. I told him we had snow coming within 24 hours. He just laughed at me. I was working until 3 am that night and got woken up by a call from him at 7 am. He told me thanks a lot and asked if I had looked outside. It must have started snowing right after I went to bed and there was already 6 inches on the ground.

Here is my latest in a series of random brain farts.

I was talking to two of my classmates in the therapy pool at the Y. For those of you that don’t know, the Y on 40th is a general HHS reunion where we can catch up on the latest gab and gossip.

Also, sadly, news of who is no longer around. The subject went to people who were made fun of or bullied and how nice some of them were, definitely undeserving of the rough treatment. The things that made them targets could be physical differences, awkwardness, or just being very intelligent.

This story is about an object and how it became part of me.

It might not be understood by those whose family was not immersed in hunting and shooting. The object of my affection is a 1903 Springfield 03-A4 made by Remington during WW2.

My Mom bought it for Dad for 15 or 20 dollars. No one saw the value in these back then. This model was meant as a sniper rifle and was very accurate.

Nerves are not happy with me the last few days so here goes.

As I saw kids at the Y indulging in horse play, (Where did that phrase come from anyway?) I started thinking of the mean or crude things we do to each other in our youth.

On the crude side, you have the gas chamber or Dutch oven. This is where someone passes gas in bed and holds the covers over the other person’s head. This is unfortunately done a lot by adult kids. Quite often this results in one person sleeping on the couch.

Having a few spasms tonight and decided to add to your misery.

This is going to be more like a list then a story. Most of us have heard a lot of descriptive one liners uttered by our elders. Now that some of us have become elders, it’s time to pass some of these down.

I will change some of the words in case I offend someone. The first was one of my Dad’s favorite sayings that came from WW2 so I will not censor it in his honor.

I was ruminating today on local names for things and places and how some carry on.

72nd avenue is a busy road with numerous businesses now. To my Dad it was always called by it’s original name, Chacola. Not sure if that was spelled right.

Reynolds Creek is still called the middle fork of the Cowiche by most locals.

Different areas up here received nicknames due to the ethnic makeup of families living there. Hence Finn hill and Swede hill.

Easter Sunday is this week. It’s easy to lose the meaning of the day.

Where did eggs and rabbits become involved. Theories say the early Christian church adopted certain pagan dates and customs to get more converts. Enough with the history lessons!

I’ve touched on the subject of Layman’s market foisting rabbits on unsuspecting families. Biting, scratching, pooping little bastards! The rabbits were unpleasant as well.

Dad loved the abundance of boiled eggs and a certain amount became deviled eggs. There were some remarkably ugly dye jobs and what part did vinegar play in the equation?

I was watching a movie this morning about veterans using fly fishing for therapy and it reminded me of my family’s ties to the sport.

One of my all-time favorite books is A River Runs Through It. A book by Norman MacLean about MacLeans fly fishing.

Not a bad movie either.

Dad told me about his Uncle Jet taking him fly fishing in beaver ponds. Jet was able to afford an expensive fly rod. Probably more due to the income from his still than his forest service pay.

Today I’m going to regale you with more tales of adolescent foolishness. There, I’ve used my fancy words for today.

Every kid had their hideouts and secret places.

I’ve already told you about the overhang on the dam in Cowiche Creek that allowed us to hide behind what amounted to a short waterfall. There was also a clump of large old greasewood and sagebrush on Cowiche Mountain that had a tunnel like quality. You could sit underneath in the shade and be hidden from outside eyes.

How many of you remember the Art Linkletter show Kids say the darndest things? Well they do and it’s often our fault.

My Dad had a relative that my Mom was not fond of and by all accounts was difficult to get along with. At a family function she came up to us and I heard Dad say her name. I instantly connected the name to things I had heard. The end result was 4 year old me looking at her and asking “Are you the old bitch?”

Okay.

Tonight’s entry is brought to you by my supper.

Lilli went southern with black eyed peas cooked with salt pork, potatoes, carrots, chili peppers, and other seasonings. Yes, I put habanero hot sauce on top of that but that’s me. Don’t be a hater!

Country families like mine ate a lot of beans so there were usually ham hocks in the freezer. Yeah I know some of you think that explains a lot about me.

Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.

My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.

More on camping.

I’ll touch on trips to Deep Creek and Conrad Meadows.

I’ll start with Deep Creek.

We would go from there to the old Copper City mine site. There were a few buildings still standing when I was young. Steve, myself, and whoever was with us, be it our cousins Tim and Terri or another family of friends from Selah would want to play in the old buildings. Our parents discouraged this and definitely forbade the old mineshaft! For some reason they thought we might do something stupid and dangerous.

I promised more camping stories from the family adventures so here goes.

Another favorite campsite when I was young was Milk Lake. There used to be a lean-to type building at the lakeside with a fire pit built in. This is where Mom would work her magic over an old Coleman white gas stove. Most stoves and lanterns at the time worked off white gas and had to have the pressure pumped up by hand periodically. I can still almost smell fried potatoes, chops, and milk gravy!

Today’s course in foolishness will focus on camping. We did a lot of camping when I was younger. I had mentioned that two of our favorite areas were Deep creek above Bumping and Conrad meadows.

I also went to Camp Fife as a Boy Scout and that’s where I’ll start. I belonged to the Naches Heights troop and we were somewhat non-conformist.

We weren’t into the troop yell, sing along, and rah rah stuff but did well in the relay competition. We’d pick the best people for each section.

When I’m having a bad nerve night, weird things go through my head both when awake and the smaller amount of time when I sleep.

I’ll state right now, not looking for sympathy. This is just Scott 2.0, the new me and I’ve just got to make the best of it. It’s just not an improved version other than a slight bit more tolerance for idiots. Not much, mind you!

More tales about childhood tales and travels.

We traveled to Kamloops BC one summer. My folks usually looked for a motel with a kitchenette so Mom could cook supper and breakfast to save money. A lot of the old motels had them back then.

I distinctly remember Dad griping about it being highway robbery that the motel cost eleven dollars a night.

I have touched on this story before but want to get it in the collection.

Okay. This one is dedicated to trouble my younger brother got us into.

Mom would walk up and kill a rattlesnake but run screaming from a mouse. Her longtime friend and Mom number 2 to me, Zora, gave Steve and I some guinea pigs. They were too rodent-like for Mom so we didn’t have them long.

Steve had sassed Mom and done something else stupid so she was looking for him. He found a nest of baby mice in the barn and put them in a coffee can. When Mom thought she finally had him cornered he brought out the can to show her the contents. He then proceeded to chase her around the house with them. Mom finally got in the house and locked the front door. The whole time she was yelling “Wait until your Dad gets home!” When Dad got home he had no choice but to punish us. At least if he wanted peace in the house! As was usually the case, I got swatted too even though I had no part in that circus. When Dad was swatting Steve he said “You actually chased her around with a can of mice you silly little shit?” He was also trying not to laugh at the time.

I’ve commented how marksmanship was important in our family. We ate a lot of wild game so hitting what you aimed at was critical. The first shotgun I hunted with was a H and R M48 Topper. This was a break action 20 gauge single shot that Dad had started with before me.

I still have it.

Dad had gone to a Noble 12 gauge pump by this time.

They were sold by Montgomery Ward and I have it as well.

Today’s rambling is about various other non rattlesnake pets Steve and I had.

I don’t know how many of you remember Layman’s Market in Union Gap. They had special events like Hawaiian days and there were usually animals involved.

For instance, at Hawaiian days they might have goldfish for the kids. On Easter events they had bunnies to sell. Of course my brother, cousins, and I all got pet rabbits.

Today’s dissertation is on country guys cooking.

In general the old belief was that the man would be out working and the wife would have lunch and dinner done for him.

Reality was the wife usually worked all day herself then came home and made dinner. That’s the way it was in our house.

Both of our sons and I are pretty decent cooks.

Dad’s culinary skills topped out at being able to put spam and mayonnaise between two slices of bread. If he really concentrated he could maybe roast a hotdog on a stick.

• Okay folks. You asked for it. I was born on July 11th, 1957. 7-11-1957 is easy to remember right? We lived on Cox road in Tieton. My cousin Ray, who I would have further adventures with was born the week previously and lived about 1/4 mile away.

Ray’s mom, Melba called mine to warn her that one of my great aunts was coming over. At that time, everyone had what was called a party line and you had to make sure a neighbor wasn’t using the phone before you dialed. Nosy neighbors might try to listen in.

Next chapter!

We lived in the house on Cox road until I was 7. Sandy was 8 years older so rightfully considered me a pain in the butt. Steve was 3 years younger so just getting to the time he could follow me around. Our neighbors were not far away but you could not see the houses and that made it seem like we were all alone.

I made friends with the various farm animals and our boxer Dixie was a constant companion. I caused a great deal of excitement when my folks saw me riding around the pasture on the back of my Uncle’s Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had a bad reputation and most of the adults would not get in the pasture with it. Evidently the bull and I had an understanding. There was also a rooster I talked to and various half wild cats. Dixie would take over the litters of kittens if they were not being cared for enough. It was an odd sight to see her on the porch with several cats she had raised curled up with her.

Snow sucks and the weather aggravates arthritis so here we go again. My son Gunner set up a web domain for me to share stories to. We’ll see. I’m a notorious smart ass and the gene seems to have been shared. I stated before that my Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who got away with calling me a certain name. Gunner informed me that Scottkins.com was available. Falling apple, tree, yeah yeah got it.