Okay guys, awkward moments.

I know we’ve all had our share of these and one this morning brought up the subject.

My veins run deep so can be a challenge to people drawing blood. A woman up here missed twice two days ago. After two misses they have to quit. It took three people that time. I think she was determined not to fail this time. It was band here, band there make a fist, open palm turn arm, whack the search area, and all the tricks. She finally found one and the final position was her breast in my open palm while she poked around. She was finally successful and some might have enjoyed the position I was in but anyone who knows me would realize I was slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

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.

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!”.

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.

For some strange reason we’ve watched some cooking shows lately. Maybe because our boxer, Harley seems to enjoy them.

They throw around a lot of terms like umami. The only thing like that in my culinary education was my Mommy.

There were only two or three things I saw her use a recipe for. Her cooking was down home country with a couple of fancier dishes thrown in.

It was years before we had tacos at home and besides the hardshell tortilla, had burger, lettuce, tomato, and maybe some onion. No hot sauce other than tobasco and no peppers.

Today’s ramblings are focusing on tomorrow and the people it honors.

Remember folks, tomorrow is Mother’s Day. What is a Mom?

Someone can be a biological mother but somehow doesn’t have the loving and protecting instincts. I truly feel for anyone who has had this kind of relationship.

My mother was a top notch Mom and I think my wife is as well. These are people who will butt heads with anyone to protect you even if you’re in the wrong.

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.

Okay.

Back to the more lighthearted stories. Today I’m concentrating on pets that were not rattlesnakes. Our rear ends learned that lesson!

I kind of adopted a black kitten that had been dumped and had the fur around it’s neck chewed off. It was pretty pitiful. Steve would taunt it and it grew into a large Persian looking cat. The cat would actually go up to Steve and growl. Oddly enough he backed off.

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.

Today’s subject is anger and conflict.

When I was in school I was generally somewhat shy and non-confrontational. I started changing my attitude towards conflict my senior year. The first few years after high school and into my early twenties was an ornery stage.

I did not avoid scraps and got in a few. In my defense, I did not bully others but went after the bullies. I had no hesitancy to fight and got into scraps with groups of 2 or more on several occasions. I got a reputation of someone not to mess with.

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?”

Had a little pop in my lower back the other day so it’s been encouraging me to write. Sorry! Besides our ornery side, Steve and I had our occasional moments of nice. No really!

About this time of year the wildflowers pop up on Cowiche Mountain. We would find a discarded cup or can, put some water in it, and bring Mom a bouquet of wildflowers.

This of course was after we tired of looking for the first reptiles of the year or shooting at things with our wrist rockets or pellet guns.

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.

I’m touching on the health and eating changes that have been happened over the years. Salt. They tell you now to minimize your salt intake.

The Food network, which our dog enjoys, shows contestants being told by top chefs that they need more salt. These same chefs are shown on other shows sprinkling a veritable snowstorm of salt over food. Maybe doctors need to prescribe “No cooking shows!”

They used to encourage you to use more iodized salt for iodine in your system. I remember Mom starting to just sprinkle salt in her frying pan because she was told it made a healthier, less greasy hamburger. She had a hard time cutting back on salt.

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!

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.

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.

Here is the next Cub Scout years installment. There were a lot of my classmates in Mom’s den. Sometimes she got a boy that another leader couldn’t handle.

Mom’s theory was that you couldn’t have these country boys cutting out paper dolls. You had to have outdoor outings to let them be boys within reason.

Here is a roster of our classmates she had in her group. I’m probably missing a few and I apologize. Kids wanted in her group because she actually did fun outings with them. Greg Benner, Dave Neubert, Tom Webster, Rick Harris, Rick Estes, and Mark Williams to name some. As I said there were others and many groups came later.

My Mom and Dad were Scout leaders and I followed in their footsteps.

Sadly, due to mistakes at the national level and predatory scumbags who slipped into leadership roles, Scouting may not be around when my Grandkids get older.

Mom was a Cub Scout den leader even after my brother and I got past that age.

Besides the usual craft projects, she took her dens on a lot of outings. There were trips to Sunrise and Paradise in Mt. Rainier National Park and a hike into the ice caves (They still existed then.) or the glacier overlook.

Okay folks, you get two in quick succession today.

Mom was the one who would swat us and seldom did Dad do the deed. Dad had a weapon we refer to as the McLean glare. He could stop you in your tracks and make you cringe with just a look. It must be hereditary.

Lilli remarked that she could swat one of the boys on the rear and they might say “That didn’t hurt!” On the other hand she said I could make them cry with just the glare.

Nerve spasms so here’s another jewel.

I should mention that nobody reading any of this should get the idea that it’d be good to try and emulate any of the stupid and dangerous things my brother and I got up to. Not only are they dangerous and likely illegal by today’s standard, but I’m fairly certain we only got away with them because they had not invented the consequences for that level of stupidity yet.

• 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.