It's fair to say my Mom was a goody-two-shoes. Her sister Beatrice was not. After dinner one Sunday, she was teasing my next two younger brothers and me about "premarital sex." I think it was more about getting under Mom's skin than embarrassing her sister’s three oldest sons, but Aunt Bea was gleefully happy to accomplish both. I turned the tables ( Read more... )

I tuned in to Fox News for the President's farewell address. I was impressed. The bloviating talking-heads on Fox News were predictably not. It was hard to believe they watched the same speech. Their after-action analysis of the address sounded more like a postmortem than a cogent colloquy concerning the content. Somehow they even managed to drag ( Read more... )

Marmots are part of the charm of the Olympic Mountains; a reward for making the effort to climb into their 'hoods above the woods in the High Country, where they are exquisitely adapted to the unique habitat. In the years I spent a lot of time up there, they were inescapable. That doesn’t seem to be the case these days. I've heard rumors that ( Read more... )

B. Deer Park
Deer Park, along the north flank of the Olympics, was a great night ski -depending on snow level & if ONP has closed the bottom gate. We skied in about 4.5 miles to the seasonal ranger station, and camped in its shed. [Much more sheltered than the three-sided Adirondacks at the campground.] There was still some firewood left from the ( Read more... )

A. Copper Creek
I thoroughly enjoy XC skiing by moonlight. In my MTTA Ski Patrol days, I would get off work Friday evening, wait for the snarl of TGIF Pugetropolis traffic to die down, then head for the mountains. Arriving at the trailhead @ 22:00, it was the most peaceful cruise into Copper Creek Cabin, the base for my patrolling assignment for the ( Read more... )

Tuesdays were bread day at our house. Mom would spend the whole day baking a week's worth for our family of nine. She'd pitch in with four family friends to buy a ton of wheat at a time from an Amish farmer and had it custom-ground at a mill in Wooster. I'll never forget the smell walking into the house on Tuesdays after school.

She had it timed so ( Read more... )

I was asked to provide a funny story on the subject of Christmas trees. Mine is not a funny story, or even very amusing, but it's one that brings back warm memories.

I haven't had a Christmas tree in decades*; the last two I cut I gave away to single moms. That I cut? Yes. It must have been in the late '80s; my niece was ~2½. I led a group of us up ( Read more... )

I'd have loved to inherit my Mom's accordion. I have no idea what became of it; it was gone soon after Mom was. I don't think she ever learned to play it; she came to it late in life while she was still learning piano. That accordion was a work of art - a thing of beauty without playing a note. Even its case evoked a sculpture. I suppose that’s why ( Read more... )

¡DOH! [Sure, kid…] The strings the guitar came with were shot. Since there are twelve of them on this beauty, I had to work up some motivation to get around to replacing them. Motivation came as an excuse to turn on the TV for the ‘Hawks-Cards game while completing the chore.


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My first day in Boot Camp is a blur, thanks to the 36 sleep-deprived hours it took to get there. But I vividly remember the haircut. We arrived on base at 02:30, and by 04:30 [TWO FRIGGIN’ HOURS BEFORE DAWN!], I was in The Chair. I’d been working as a roadie, and as such had fashionably long hair for those days of Hair Bands and Arena Rock. In ( Read more... )