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 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.

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.

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.

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.

I’ve been thinking this week about the hide the pain mentality a lot of us were raised with.

Anyone remember slap or punch contests?

I had a crutch slip on something the other day and did a two bank shot from the wall to the floor. It says something when hitting a wall is a good thing. It slows the impact with the floor. I low crawled to my chair and pulled myself up.

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.

A show on TV today put me in mind of kids cooking.

I’m afraid none of the culinary genius those kids showed was present in us at a young age. Steve would take pork and beans, cottage cheese, or both and put them between two bread slices with copious amounts of potato chips. He thought this was a great sandwich. His kitchen tip was that regular chips were better than dip chips. Also, corn chips were a non starter.

May is just around the corner and this story is going to be a mixture of emotions pretty much like May weather.

May was always a magical month that sometimes smacked you down and let you know who was running things!

When we were younger it sometimes seemed like the start of summer but still retained a springtime bite. By this time of the year the jeep tops were off and the motorcycles out. If you used either type of vehicle, you knew every cold spot in the valley. With no witnesses in the Jeeping community near, you might put on the bikini top and half doors.

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.

I started thinking of more warm weather memories today.

Hopefully not just wishful thinking!

Steve and I did a lot of improvising and experimenting with new ways to try to have excitement without shortening our lifespan. Some adults already thought we were destined for a tragic end.

I have mentioned the hill in the lower pasture and the rocks that had to be dodged. We would take the old red wagon and steer it with the pull handle while coasting down the hill. Most kids have ridden one of the old Radio Flyers and can attest to the hard ride and tendency to crash when the handle whipped to one side or another. The usual ride down the hill often resulted in a crash while dodging one rock or another. A more spectacular pile up happened if you actually hit one of the rocks!

The snow this morning put me in mind of spring snow storms when we were younger.

In the last story I mentioned one during my teen years. This one was at an age of about 12. We had gotten about 9 inches of snow one day early in spring break.

Steve and I took a couple of the old plastic sleds into the lower pasture. It had a relatively steep hill ending in a flatter area. We built a jump or two and it was always an adventure to dodge the rocks.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

The blue sky we’ve started seeing the last few days has brought on memories of approaching spring when we were young.

The wildflowers have started to bloom but I didn’t learn to appreciate them until later in life. Opening day of fishing season was an important event. I know I’ve touched on this subject before but catch limits were very generous by today’s standards.

My favorite outdoor humorist, Pat McManus stated it as “All you can catch plus one fish.” With adult limits of 16 and youth limits of 8 it came close.

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.

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.

Now for our ventures into explosives.

It started out small with the purchase of firecrackers in San Francisco’s Chinatown.

I already touched on Steve lighting some in a restaurant restroom in Eureka. Mom immediately confiscated them but didn’t get them all.

We had shelves of canned fruits and vegetables in the basement. On the top shelf we found a box of various fireworks that had evidently been bought by Uncle Gale, or Gingo if you prefer while we still lived in Tieton. I don’t know why they had not been discarded. Big mistake!

Up a lot tonight so here goes.

Our parents would take us to the fair every year. We had to go through the livestock barns and exhibit buildings first every year. They always looked at Highland’s FFA booth which was a perennial favorite.

Roy Hallstrom knew his stuff and taught Gary Slagg. When other schools started winning the instructor was often a Highland grad.

We watched the rodeo a few times and once or twice saw the musical headliner. There was always the requisite corn dog (often called pronto pups) or other fair food.

Back to the brothers saga.

Things were different back then and kids had free range for the most part. Usually, the biggest danger to them was themselves!

On one adventure I had planned a camping trip for Steve and I up the Cowiche. My family always had a close connection to there and my Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson camped up there at a place called Cold Springs on their honeymoon. It was the gateway to many areas for us.

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.

I’ve told some of these before but I’m trying to get a bunch recorded before I’m gone.

Steve and I would sometimes develop mysterious ailments that kept us from going to school but we miraculously recovered from by the time the folks got home. I don’t know how many remember the morning moneyman movie with Bob Iver, but something like a good Abbot and Costello film brought on sudden sickness.

You’ll have to excuse me for the “potty” humor in this one.

I’ve mentioned that Steve sometimes sleepwalked and that our house came with a ghost.

Steve got spooked one night by thinking he saw our resident spook and asked if he could sleep in my room. I reluctantly said yes.

I woke up feeling wet and turned to look at Steve. He was laying on his back and peeing straight in the air with his eyes open. I hollered and jumped out of bed. He then shook his head and looked confused. I realized he had not really been awake.

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.

Another tale of an earlier visit to Grandpa’s.

Steve and I were probably 14 and 11. Our folks put us on a Greyhound at the depot that used to be on Yakima avenue. Steve wanted to sit in the back but I told him I’d been warned not to due to the bathroom being back there. Good advice because even at mid bus the smell got a little ripe!

The bus picked up more passengers at Ellensburg and we had a layover of 2 hours to switch buses in Seattle. I had picked up a copy of Hot Rod magazine and one of Mad magazine at the depot to pass the time. Steve passed the time by antagonizing me!

When we were young,most of our activities centered on the outdoors. Jeeping was a big part of it with family and friends going on trail excursions with their own rig while Dad drove our 57 CJ5.

We went over most of the trails in the mountains and there used to be quite a few lookouts. Ones like Big and Little Bald had actual towers while Jumpoff, Miners Ridge, and Timberwolf just set on the edge of cliffs. It was fun to visit with the forest service people manning the lookouts and hear their stories. Timberwolf actually had mountain goats on the cliff below it.

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.

My son suggested some quick stories about our relationship with the neighbor boys.

The family from Texas had two boys and a girl. The girl was about our younger sisters age and didn’t factor into our day to day exploits.

The older brother got pushy and demanding at times.

Stupid move since we were bigger and onerier than him. He also had a bad case of gullibility, a bad trait to have around the McLean brothers.

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.

This stage of my life will take a while and quite a few stories to get through.

This was the age that Steve and I had a lot of our adventures during. In other words, a study in rampant stupidity.

I have stated before how Cowiche Creek was one of our main playgrounds. We sometimes played chicken with our bikes on Pioneer Street. Mom witnessed this one day and told us we would be grounded from the creek if she caught us doing it again.

My son reminded me of another tale or maybe tail?

One of our favorite games was to race our bikes. At the time our bikes were our do all atv and race car. Those of you familiar with the Cowiche area might know Mahoney road. It is a gravel road that drops from Naches Heights road to Pioneer road on the flats. It is chiefly downhill with one sharp curve after another. We would race on this. Due to me weighing more, gravity worked in my favor and gave me an advantage. Steve often did better on the flats but I owned Mahoney.

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.

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.

When I was about 9 or 10 and Steve was 6 or 7 we had some new neighbors move in.

They came from Texas and were a new experience for us. I have relatives and friends in Texas and they are nothing like this family was.

They were going on vacation for two weeks and said they’d pay us to take care of their place. This included feeding and watering a bunch of animals, watering their lawn, and mowing twice. When they got back they gave us each 50 cents. We didn’t say anything but evidently they saw the looks on our face.

My brother and I spent a lot of time around the nearest water.

Cowiche creek was only a guarter mile away so we waded, swam, and fished a long length of it. We also used the canal on Cowiche Mountain. There was a long stretch with no siphon so we would swim or float it.

Our floating was done on truck inner tubes which also were our sleds in winter. One of the departments Dad ran with H and H was shipping which allowed him to get some used tubes.

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.

Next Installment on my story.

When we moved to the house on Summitview and Pioneer it was quite a change. We went from sharing a room with a sibling to 5 bedrooms and 2 baths. Unfortunately, it also came with a lot more lawn to mow.

One of our favorite places was a group of huge old sage and greasewood on Cowiche Mountain. We worked very hard to find and catch horned toads. They were tricky to catch but once you had them they would ride around on your shirt for hours. I took one to 4th grade and got sent to talk to Mr. Zeutenhorst when a girl in my class realized it was a live lizard and not a toy.