Making another trip to Seattle.

Unfortunately to the hospital and possible spine fusion.

I’m going to take the time to reflect on more enjoyable coastal visits. I missed out on the worlds fair as a kid. My older sister went with the adults but I had to stay at my aunts house because Steve was too young. Mom said it wouldn’t be fair for me to go and Steve not.

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!”.

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!

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.

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.

Nerves acting up so here we go again.

My sister Sandy was out of the house and married before I was 11.

Her husband was in the Air Force and they lived in the Mountain View suburb of San Francisco.

We drove down to visit them with triple digit temperatures until we dipped over the coastal range in Northern California. All the windows went up then.

That area in 1969 was full of things an 11 year old from Cowiche had never imagined. We saw all of the tourist sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.

Going to have a little more serious subject for part of this one.

When I was younger there were whole families that made the fruit picking circuit. California, north through us and cherries in Montana. Most of these families came from Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. Many later settled here and actually bought their own farms.

This cycle is repeating but with a different group. Some of the kids from the traveling families were in school with us for a few weeks at a time. One of the kids I remember most was a black girl from Arkansas named Gay. I had no experience with racial problems so started talking to her like any other kid. She seemed shocked that I would associate with her and was shy anyway. Years later when I realized more I came to understand but found it sad. As I have said before, I was raised with the idea that if someone treated you right you did the same.

Having nerve spasms so today’s a two for.

My brother Steve and I were at odds with my older sisters boyfriends.

One had the last name of Payne. We secretly called him pain in the ass.

He had a Malibu he was quite proud of. Steve and I were coming back from the creek and he yelled at us to keep away from his car. I got his attention and Steve peed in his gas tank. He did not come around much after that.