Santa Cruz

We made it to Santa Cruz at about 5PM last night. 70's clear sky. Great in Santa Cruz. Smog around Stockton north and south was dreadful. Warm but we were wondering if we could survive the smog! Once we made it over the hill into Santa Cruz the winds had cleared out the smog and we could breath again! Trip was a cake walk relative to last year - but then what wouldn't have been! We drove in one day what we made in two days last year, Weed, California. Made it here in two days. Last year it took 3.

Tonight we dine Italian in honor of Rose's birthday, not that she is italian, we just eat a lot. At 3pm I watch the GU San Jose game. Rose, Joe, and Moose have just left for a walk along the beach. I'm going to try and find a car wash. Blazer is an embrassment. We will be watching the super bowl in Cambria tomorrow afternoon.

We are alive, well, and in good spirits. Hope the same for you all.

Dad

We're off and running

We leave tomorrow morning at 7:00 for Cambria. Our packing is done. We await daybreak.

Tonight I went to Plummer to watch the Knights play Wallace. Kimmer did great. A couple of super great passes, many take aways, many blocked shots and several buckets. The score at half time was 32 to 0 in favor of Plummer. I thought it was going to be a shut out for a while. Hard to believe we have been watching these kids play since they were in the first grade when dribbling was a foreign concept and many shots fell short. Now there are bounce passes, no look passes, double pumps, and yelling off of plays. Gosh how I enjoy it all.

As much as I look forward to the warm clims of Cambria, I will really miss watching Kim and John Henry play basketball. You guys will have to video tape some of the games for me so I can watch them when I get home. Oh, yes. I will miss the class B BB tournament as well. Even though it is smaller than it used to be! It's as much fun as having breakfast with the men's group in Plummer!

I look forward to Katy, Doug, and John's visit to Cambria. I have much to show them. I look forward to the Hall clan's visit next year.

Les if you want to have the super bowl party in the "man-hole" give Kay a call. :-) I'm sure she'd welcome your company as you cheer on the Cards. If you're not for the Cards, you can't use the big screen. simple as that.

Hang and rattle - family - love you all,

Dad

p.s. Please leave some comments so I know someone is reading this stuff. :-)

Bigotry

I was reminded recently of what I said I learned in an earlier post re: Martin Luther King Day. We must be strong in our convictions. We must be willing to speak out in defense of what we know to be right regardless of the consequences. We must walk the walk. Age does not excuse bigotry. Our own life experiences do not justify discrimination. Nothing justifies discrimination or bigotry. If your own experience justifies bigotry seek a different experience. If your friends justify racial discrimination seek different friends. If your politics justify discrimination seek a different way. If your religion justifies discrimination seek a different way to understanding. You must rise above it. Discrimination at all levels, racial, sexual orientation, religious, age, political thought is ignorance. Bigotry is ignorance. Ignorance must be fought at every level. How do we fight ignorance? Knowledge. How do we gain knowledge? Familiarity, study, dedication, openness, questioning, acceptance, love, hope, experience, faith, an open mind, willingness to learn............ But most of all love. What I don't understand in today's national/universal discourse is the anger. Why? Oh yes, I know most anger is fear. But, of what are we fearful? The unknown? The journey? Is there no common good? Is there no common end? As near as I can tell, none of us are gonna get out of this alive. And, we won't be able to take our material shit with us. We're going to be remembered for how we loved, not how we hated.

As an add-on, when you confront head on matters of discrimination, you may be surprised what you learn about those you care deeply. We must be careful about our communications. Appearances are not always as they appear. Confrontation accompanied with dialoge can led to a greater understanding and may deepen the friendship even more.

Pitchfork Ranch - 1945 & Schooling

During the five years my parents operated the Pitchfork ranch I attended over 12 different grade schools. Each year the routine was the same; i.e. start school in Meeteetse, move to town, stay with aunts and uncles as my parents looked for a home to rent (going to school where my cousins were enrolled), live in a rental home (re-enroll in school) and return to the ranch in early spring where once again I would attend school in Meeteetse. Each year the routine was the same only the schools would change. In some years I would attend four different schools as we had difficulty finding a rental and would move from one set of aunts and uncles to another as mom and dad continue searching for a short term rental. I learned to adapt but it was not easy. I always longed to be back at the ranch. Winters were a nightmare. I missed my home and my animals. Maybe that is why I have trouble with winter as an adult! I tire of it fast.

Never once have I blamed my parents for the need to move during the winter. We simply were unable to live at the ranch during the winds and snows of a Wyoming winter. I can remember roads drifting shut behind the snow plow as dad plowed them open to get me home from the school bus drop off point. It seemed like we could have a one inch snowfall and every dang bit of it would end up in drifts on the road to the school bus stop. The twenty plus mile bus ride to Meeteetse was not something that I looked forward to, either. Nor, was it for my parents as they worried about getting me the four miles to and from the bus pickup point. As soon as hunting season ended we "high-tailed" it to "town". Usually however hunting season did not end before the advent of the winds and snows of winter. No wonder I dislike winter. It was a constant battle, one that I prefer not fighting now! At another level those Wyoming winters did instill within me a strong sense of family. I remember with great fondness the feeling of togetherness the family had when snowed in for days. No sense of panic - just couldn't get anywhere!

I certainly had trouble in school until we finally settled in Absarokee, Montana and the 4K guest ranch. Fortunately for me, I had excellent teachers in Absarokee High School who instilled in me a true love of learning and a sense that I could succeed. Excellent teachers coupled with athletic ability afforded me friends and a sense of identity. It certainly helped that I was able to spent three years straight in the same school too! Prior to that, the longest I was ever in the same school for a period of time was one year. One advantage of attending several different schools was experiencing every conceivable approach to teaching imaginable (redundancy intended). I had phonics, memorize it, old school, new school, you name it. In the fifth grade in Meeteetese I was so overwhelmed with the different teaching philosophies and student expectations that I was diagnosed as being hard of hearing. Heck, I wasn't deaf. I was confused and didn't know how to respond/act! I guess I figured it was just easier to ignore em. So I did.

I figure all that confusion and struggle prepared me well for the PhD experience!! ~ the subject of another post. There are a couple of teachers in my past that I would sure like to wave that PhD at! But in the final analysis, I believe all of my experiences, good and bad, have made me a better teacher.

Pitchfork Ranch - 1945

My father and mother leased the Pitchfork Bar Dude Ranch during the spring of 1945. My Dad leased and managed this dude (guest) ranch for five years. During the spring we spent time cleaning the cabins, lodge, and out buildings getting ready for the arrival of our first guests during the early part of June. During the summer we entertained paying guests and guided fishing trips into the Thoroughfare country bordering Yellowstone Park (south of Yellowstone Lake). Dad guided and outfitted elk and antelope hunters during the fall hunting season. Occasionally he would guide bear hunters as well. He hunted where we fished during the summer, the Thoroughfare country. In the later part of the season he would guide hunters into the mountains bordering the ranch. The winters were “spent” in Cody, Wyoming or Billings, Montana where dad would find work for the three or four months we would be in “town” ~ always a difficult time for me as I always preferred being at home on the ranch even though that entailed being by myself for long periods of time.

The Pitchfork Ranch was a boy’s dream ~ mine at any rate. I had my own horse, Blue, a blue roan that my dad bought for me from a ranch on the Wind River Indian reservation. He was a true Indian pony, four years old, and, probably, the only horse that I truly owned out right. He was given to me when I was six years old. I was taught to ride bare back with a hackamore bridle (no bit) and for the five years we had the ranch that was the only way I rode. I remember 20 mile pack trips into the mountains and riding bare back the whole way. I would fly fish off of the back of Blue as we followed the trial along the Greybull River up into the Thoroughfare country. In the early stages of our friendship, Blue would simply stop and wait for me to get back on if I were to fall off on one of our adventures. This would usually happen if at a high lope Blue would stop dead in his tracks in refusal to jump an irrigation ditch. He’d stop. I’d keep going. He never left me and ran home. Getting back on, however, was not always an easy matter. Sometimes it seemed like hours before I could find a suitable boulder or fence railing off of which I could jump onto Blue's back. Admittedly, Blue wasn't all sunshine and roses. If he didn't really think it was time for me to get back on his back, as I led him next to the boulder or fence rail, he would stand just far enough away so I would fall just short of him as I jumped from the "loading dock". I believe that is where I first learned I had a temper problem. We had full run of the place and we would go off on wild adventures. Once I was strong enough to open and close wire gates, we would wander in wider and wider circles. Mom would pack a lunch and we would be gone for hours. I missed him terribly during the winter months. He and the other horses that we had, about 35 head in all, were simply turned out in a super large pasture that was rented from the cattle operation of the Pitchfork Ranch. The horses were expected to fend for themselves during the winter months. I do not recall us ever losing a horse during the winter months, either from hardship or just being lost. I do, however, remember worrying a lot about old Blue. He was with us until he was sold at auction in a dispersal sale when Dad encountered financial problems in 1950 when we were forced to move back to “town”. My heart was broken.

During the first year at the ranch when I was six years old not only did I get my horse Blue, I also got an orphan antelope that one of the wranglers found in some sagebrush in a nearby horse pasture. We named him Sparky. Blue, Sparky, and Skip were fast buddies. Sparky grew like a weed that summer. We took turns bottle feeding him. In a surprisingly short period of time he was a young adult who took great delight in testing out his bud horns by placing his head between your legs and butting upward with great velocity, a very painful experience for the males of the ranch and an embarrassing experience for the females most especially if they happened to be wearing a dress. It didn’t take long for everyone to learn to give Sparky a wide berth on his travels around the buildings on the ranch. Interestingly, Sparky loved to eat coal. He found small bits of coal that had been dropped along the way from the outdoor coal bin storage area in the back of the kitchen area of the main lodge. He must have needed some mineral found within the coal. When it came time for us to “head to town” for the winter we left a winter’s supply of coal for Sparky in hopes that he would hang around until spring. I worried all winter about his safety and whereabouts. Upon return that spring we found Sparky and the coal to be gone. I’m sure the coal was inside Sparky. As to Sparky we never really knew his fate. I used to dream that he was in the hills around the ranch keeping an eye on us. Of course for years after when ever we saw a pronghorn buck we would ask ourselves if that was Sparky. Of course every large buck pronghorn that one of dad's hunters shot was also a possible candidate for being Sparky, as well. The existence of Sparky always put an “edge” on hunting for me.

I believe it was during the second year on the ranch that I got Laddy my Australian shepard/collie/ something else mix dog. He was a mutt, beautiful and a constant companion for me all year long unlike my other buddies who had to stay at the ranch when we moved to town in the winter. Laddy was my first dog ~ and he was a special as he thought he was. He could count all the way to one and would occasionally grace you with a hand shake. Rolling over was not worth the effort and “staying” was absolutely an insane idea. In other words, he was not into tricks, but following me and being with me where ever I went was his absolute strength and reason for being. He, Blue and I traveled far and wide occasionally, we thought, seeing Sparky off in the distance checking up on us.

Blue was physically too large to follow Laddy and me on some of our adventures. In particular he was too large to follow a trail that I had blazed/constructed along the banks of Timber Creek through the willows and cottonwood saplings. I did this in anticipation of guiding dude kids into the wilds of Wyoming. Actually, it did work quite well as the kids were always impressed with my explanations of the water falls, rapids, clearings, and other landmarks as we played along the banks of the creek with Laddy as our constant companion. He took as much delight in showing the new kids our trail as I did. He was the original “guide dog”. During our first year away from the ranch after dad’s financial set backs Laddy was hit by a car and killed. I always believed he never saw the car coming as he wasn’t aware of automobiles. He never had to worry about them on the ranch, there just weren’t that many. I’ve had several dogs since Laddy, but never have I had a dog like Laddy. Like first loves he was special.

To be continued.....................,

President Obama

Pride has given me wings!
My heart soars ~~like a hawk!

Obama 44th President in One and a Half Hours

yes

Martin Luther King Day

As a college student of the 60”s, this national holiday will always be significant to me. I remember the deaths of President Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Reverend King, the “students” at Kent State University, the students attempting to register blacks in the south, and the little black girls killed in a bomb blast in the church where they were attending Sunday school (Sunday school for Gods sake – Little Girls!!!). I remember how completely “powerless” I felt, how angry I felt, and how overwhelmingly sad and hopeless I felt. I remember how embarrassed for our country I was. I remember students marching through the classroom within which I was teaching accounting as a graduate assistant at Arizona State University and how upset with myself I was because I did not dismiss class and march with them. But I thought I had “responsibilities” and was afraid to face the authorities as college students across the nation were doing that fateful day. You see, the events of that decade affected us all. We had to “face up” to thoughts, beliefs and social customs with which we were uncomfortable and which, deep down, we knew to be wrong. As a child of rural Montana I was totally confused. These young people were confronting authority ~ authority that was supposed to be leading us and demonstrating to us the difference between right and wrong. I was taught to respect my elders, i.e. authority. Yet I vividly remember attending a doctoral consortium in Lexington Kentucky where, for the first time, I encountered racial segregation directly in the downtown area of that city. Signs indicated that blacks were to walk on a particular side of the street, signs above water fountains stated “not for black use,” signs in cafe windows stated “no blacks”. Many signs used the word nigger in place of the word black. I knew it was not right! But for some reason I felt powerless to act. In my childhood all the wrongs that I witnessed of a social nature were on the TV screen – something isolated from me – something that I did not have to confront directly. Lexington was different. I knew that I could no longer do that. I could not ignore the wrongs. I was an adult. I was accountable for my actions. I was changed, not in outward ways. I didn't participate in protest marches (not many anyway - and certainly not enough). But, the way I raised my daughters and the way in which I conducted my life were changed. I don't believe my basic beliefs and moral compass really changed that much. But I was much more willing to speak out when I thought the actions and words of others were inappropriate. I was a stronger professor in and out of the classroom. Students knew not to cross the line. Collegues knew not to cross the line with inappropriate jokes, comments or actions. This period of my life's experience gave me the strength to act on my convictions. It is a part of me - of my character - and I am proud.

So...I will be "glued" to the TV set tomorrow, all day, as we watch Barack Obama's swearing in ceremony and all the activities surrounding it. As "we" used to say, "we've come a long way, baby"! I am proud.

My First Deer

In 1955 the first year we were at the 4K ranch, Dad decided it was time for me to shoot my first deer. So he gets out his 30-06 and a 218 Bee rifle of Frank Book's. We spent the evening re-oiling the rifles and getting ready for the big hunt. The next morning, at dawn, we go down into the fishtail creek bottom land beyond the beaver dams below the ranch buildings. I have the 218 Bee with scope and Pop has his 30-06. We wait and we wait. Finally, two bucks walk out from the woods across the clearing from us. A two point and a five point. They stood about 15 feet apart about a hundred yards away as I recall. So Dad whispers to me, "you take the two point and I'll take the five point. Shoot on the count of 3". I nod OK. So l...2...3... two instaneous booms. The two point falls to the ground - deader'n rattlesnake. The five point bounds off into the woods. Without missing a beat my Dad turns to me and says with a smile, "I shot your's for you son.". Vintage Dad!!!

I know the photo isn't "of" a deer. It's a moose that Leonard, Paul, and I saw in BC on our first fishing trip to Fernie many years ago. He posed for us. Actually, I think he was telling us he wasn't afraid of us!!

First attempt

Hi sports fans,

Kay has suggested that I set up a blog to keep in touch with family and friends while Rose and I are in Cambria. So this is my first attempt. We'll have to wait and see if it is worth the effort.

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