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.

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!

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.