Okay back to business.

The doctor drained 30 cc’s of fluid from my left knee. This involved numerous jabs into the knee with a long needle while kneading it like bread dough. All with no deadening. It most definitely got my attention so here come some of the characters in my life.

I’ve already mentioned my Uncle Gale or Gingo. Most wisdom imparted to us from him came on Sunday nights when we took a bath at his place(we just had a shower)or outside working or hunting. He might teach us a song he learned at the tavern that we would repeat but not always understand or give us a sip of beer if he was feeling brave. He either had a death wish or enjoyed my Mom running over and hollering “Gale!”.

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.

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?

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.

Today’s tale is adventures in babysitting.

Although it should probably be titled adventures of our babysitters.

The first babysitter I remember was my Aunt Wanda who lived next door when I was very young. I love her dearly and she was a great babysitter. I called her honey because that’s what my Uncle Stan called her. I must admit the fact she gave me mayonnaise sandwiches probably contributed to my dislike of mayonnaise. I particularly liked riding in the car with Honey because she drove like she was training for Nascar when she was younger. It was great!

Now for Conrad Meadows.

My family has a history with the South Fork of the Tieton area. After all, Cowiche and Tieton are just over the Ridge and down a few miles.

Grandpa McLean used to take my Dad up the there to visit Dad’s Uncle Jet. They would meet him at a lodge near the end of the South Fork. Remnants of the lodge’s chimney and fireplace still exist.

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 story is going to focus more on my Uncle Gale or Gingo as I called him when I was younger.

Gingo gave me my first taste of beer. As with most young kids, I thought that was pretty good. I saw my Uncle pouring a drink out of another brown bottle and wanted some. I guess I got a little demanding so he poured me a little. Turns out it was whiskey and I spit it all over my Grandpa’s floor.

Here we go again folks

My time in the house on Cox road was approaching its end. Besides the open space, we had such wonders as a 41 Plymouth and a 32 International that had been converted to a tractor to play in. There was also the barn and a rock butte to catch lizards on.

One day I ran into the house and told everyone a rattlesnake had come towards me. Uncle Gingo said it was probably a bullsnake and laughed at me. When he went out he found it was indeed a ticked off rattlesnake. We had never seen one around there so they came up with the theory that it had ridden down underneath my Dad’s Jeep. I guess they were burning the dump when the adults were hunting at Trout Lodge and they thought it possibly crawled into the undercarriage of the Jeep. I can’t see that having happened so I think it probably just wandered from an area they were more common.

My favorite outdoor humor writer was Pat McManus. People find his stories far fetched and outrageous but anyone who grew up in the country back when would find that they did things just as goofy and sometimes dangerous. In Pat’s books there is a Backwoods character named Rancid Crabtree who taught the boys things they should not know.

Steve and I had our own personal Rancid in the form of our Uncle Gale who I called Gingo when I was younger for unknown reasons. He lived roughly 50 yards from us so was a handy font of improper knowledge. We only had a shower in the house so on Sundays we were allowed to go to Gale’s for a bath. He would sometimes teach us songs or jokes we didn’t understand at the time. If we repeated these at home we would be swatted and Mom would head out the door hollering “Gale!” Hopefully for his sake he had a head start.

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.