Summer in Jackson, Wyoming

Last weekend sister number one texted me about anyone in our family: uncles, aunts, cousins, who lived near Jackson, Wyoming. I informed her we had an uncle who tried to make a go at building a cabin there. I promised her I would give her the truth about what happened.

So, Cathy, here it is. In the next three weeks or so, I will relay to you, my readers what I did back in the summer of 1988 on my uncle’s property. The truth is never easy to retell, especially after 32 years have gone by. Right now, I’m listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon to get me in the proper frame of mind.

You see, the truth of the matter was that I considered all my uncles, Mom had seven brothers of a large family who grew up during the depression and war years in Texas and Oklahoma, to be my favorites, but Uncle Lloyd seemed to like me and I thought it was okay and I accepted his opinion of me. Years later at a family reunion that Mom attended, their animosity came out and she swore she would never go to another reunion again. I don’t know if their bitterness was just their old age catching up to them, or some other dynamic. The truth was that I didn’t truly know my uncles at all, and Uncle Lloyd was going to open my eyes wide open.

But I digress. Sometime in June 1988, Mom got an invitation from her brother Lloyd. He had purchased some property near Jackson, Wyoming just above the Snake River. Dad and Mom were all hyped up to go and since I hadn’t found my job after graduating from Washington State University yet, Mom asked if I’d like to come too and share in the driving. It was a ten-hour jaunt from where they lived in Tri-Cities, Washington to his homestead.

We left in Dad’s 84 Ford Ranger F100 July 4, early in the morning just as the sun broke the eastern horizon. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere in sight and the weather person promised hot and dry weather throughout the holiday weekend. It was a mostly uneventful drive with the three of us switching drive responsibilities. I said mostly right? Mom foretold her own demise twenty-one years later when she unexpectedly started nodding off while she drove. It was along a stretch of I-84 just outside Mountain Home Airforce Base outside Boise.

I sat next to her and was watching the truck slowly drift toward the center medium. “Mom get in your lane,” I told her.

“Mary!” Dad barked and I saw her asleep at the wheel. I jerked the wheel back. “Are you alright?” He asked with some concern in his voice.

Mom jerked herself into consciousness and saw I had the steering wheel in my left hand. She still had her foot on the accelerator. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“Get off the road and let Jerry take over,” he ordered her. She did and I did until we reached Idaho Falls, then Dad drove the final leg. We reached Jackson at around late afternoon or early evening. In summer it’s so hard to tell unless one is wearing a watch. I forgot to reset mine to Mountain time and was an hour behind. We stopped at a convenience store, filled up the truck, it had twin saddle tanks, which was convenient for Dad when he worked near Kansas City three years before. Dad also bought a half case of beer, remembering our last family reunion down in Texas before Grandma passed from breast cancer, how Lloyd liked his beer. Mom called ahead for directions. We then headed up a road off the main highway, US 189, by a homestead that I still remember to this day had a sign out front that read “Mi Casa Costa Mucho Dinero. It was a sprawling rancher with pole building and split rail fence with expensive vehicles in front. “Is that it?” I asked.

“No, he said it’s up the road a way further,” Mom replied.

Five minutes later, we arrived finding a warehouse or garage looking structure, a trailer and three vehicles. Dusk arrived quickly and light was at best, minimal. But I did notice beginning of a base and some logs scattered haphazardly about, along a large pile of rough logs laying nearby. Dad parked the truck and got out. I followed suit and held the door for Mom to exit from the passenger side. Lloyd walked out from the garage first, lighting from inside casted shadows outward. Aunts Brenda and Dorothy followed behind surprising all of us. Hugs and kisses were exchanged. We all went inside where Lloyd introduced us to his wife (can’t remember her name after 32 years) Lana, who was a tall, slender woman in her fifties. They were all in their fifties, though Dorothy, who I shared a birthday with was going to be 60 September 2nd.

Dinner was simmering in a pot, and I smelled cornbread baking in the oven. It was chile and it smelled homemade. “I brought out some beer if anyone wants some,” Dad mentioned to Lloyd.

“Oh, I had to quit drinking; costed me two divorces and a shit load of money in child support and alimony,” Lloyd replied. He laughed. Like Dad, Lloyd was relatively average in height, slightly taller than me, but stocky with a good-sized beer gut. His full head of brown and wavy hair had grayed significantly. “You plan to stay around and help me build my cabin, young man?” He asked me directly.

The question caught me totally by surprise. Yes, I wasn’t working, and I wondered even to this day if there wasn’t some conspiracy afloat between my parents and Lloyd to get me out of the house for a while. I pulled a can of Budweiser from the half-case and opened it with a resounding crack. Some of the contents spilt onto the cement floor. I took a drink and saw his

discomfort at this very action. “Sure, I suppose.” My mind was waiting the details. How much was he going to pay me? That question set out front and center for me.

He smiled at me. “I need you to shave the bark off those logs out there. I’ll pay a dollar per log, and you get room and three squares a day.”

“How many logs do you got?” I asked him as I took another pull.

“Over two hundred with more on the way.”

“Can I see your blueprints?” Dad asked.

“After supper I’ll show y’all everything.” Lloyd’s Texas drawl came out loud and clear.

As if on cue, Lana announced in a soft Texas accent, “Y’all get washed up now. It’s supper time.”

After dinner, Lloyd placed the rolled blueprints flat on the table and showed us his dream home where he planned to die in. The design showed a two-story cabin with main floor and loft on the second where the bedroom would be. I didn’t mention anything then but wondered where he planned to sleep once he got too old to climb the ladder to his room. Dad, being the experienced draftsman and design engineer that he was, studied it in much more detail than I did. He asked Lloyd a bunch of technical questions about peeks and trusses, stuff way over my head. If he’d asked about American literature or great writers of the 20th century, I would understand. But I think even Lloyd looked befuddled by all of this. He gave Dad a pleasant smile. I went outside and smoked a cigarette, wishing I’d bought some pot before I left West Richland.

Mom came outside. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I looked at her. No, I wasn’t sure. I had no more of an idea about building log cabins than Lloyd did, as I surmised from inside when Dad was grilling him. But I wasn’t going to confess that to her. “Oh yeah, sure, I’ll be alright.”

“You be careful with him. He has a hair trigger temper; worse than Dad.”

“Sure, I’ll keep that under advisement. Anything else?”

She hugged me, “No, just be careful.” She released me and went back inside. Brenda announced, “Put that crap away, Lloyd. We’re fixin’ to play dominoes!”

Next week, the work begins.

What is Freedom Really?

There’s a quote from Robert F Kennedy that defines to me what freedom is all about, treating all Americans with justice, understanding and tolerance. But, there are those people out there who define freedom as a choice to disobey mandates set forth by a Democratic governor because doing so mean giving up their own freedom of choice.

Instead of doing the right thing for the common good of all, these people see wearing a mask as some sort of gesture toward totalitarian rule. I suppose these people see traffic laws and other laws as infringements upon their freedoms and rights too.
It wouldn’t surprise me if these same people believe this whole pandemic is some sort of hoax, a conspiracy to throw Trump out of office and install a Democrat as the next president. I’m sorry that I don’t share these views.

Instead, I see freedom not so much as an individual choice to do whatever he or she desires, but in the broader picture of cooperation. An all encompassing understanding that being a citizen means sometimes making the right decisions to better serve everyone.

This other view seems to presume that laws and mandates are only for certain people and that they are seemingly above the law. This is considered, in my view, anarchy and in a country where the rule of law must be adhered to, anarchy does not work, and will never work.

Freedom in this society is not anarchy. freedom is speaking one’s mind without fear of repercussion, making choices of worship, and protecting oneself and his property from government persecution and repression, and having a fulfilling life free of want and need.

So my next question I wish to pose at these pro-freedom people, did they ever serve in the military? If they had, they know or should know that sometimes freedom comes at a cost to your own individual liberty. The entire military machine is founded on principles of discipline, honor and duty to country. We are a brotherhood, esprit de corps is every branches’ motto, not just the Marines. There are no individuals, but units that work together as a team to achieve a common goal.

If these patriots believe that by refusing to wear a face covering, they are achieving some higher standard, they are ignorant to what this country was founded on. We have no right to expose our countrymen to sickness and death, period.

The Joys of Owning A Camper

As I informed you my loyal readers earlier this year, my wife and I bought newer Dodge Ram 2500 and later a monster-sized Arctic Fox camper. We haven’t used it until my stepdaughter asked we let her and the grand kids go on a well-deserved vacation.

In the midst of this pandemic, it’s okay to travel, though highly not recommended. She wanted to leave Thursday until she informed my wife that she wanted to take them all the way to the North California coast for over two weeks. I had assumed she wanted to make this a reasonably local excursion for a few days. Needless to say, I put the brakes on that, telling her no one was ready for this, least of all the entire camper itself.

I had no idea what it takes to have a camper readied ,until now. Needless to say, my eyes are wide open and definitely don’t recommend investing into something like this if aren’t 100 percent prepared for every and all possible contingencies that might arise, because it will as she has found out.

To start with, none of us had clue about this beast’s, which is what I’m calling her, many idiosyncrasies. Did you know there are holding tanks and a water pump and all the faucets and plumbing that goes with it, which if you forget to do one little thing, can destroy the $40,000 unit you just bought?

Luckily for all of us, she has a friend who was a maintenance technician at the Goodwill store they both worked at until this thing hit and everyone was laid off. He also knows his way around campers, and is smart enough, if he doesn’t quite know where something is, he’ll search around until he finds it. When I came home from work Thursday evening, she was there along with her maintenance friend and all of us together, got to work, learning, and finding everything we needed to know about this camper so that she could safely travel down and back.

The hardest part isn’t going to be going forward, though of course one needs to do that in a safe and comfortable manner, it’s backing up and loading the camper onto the truck, then the many steps it takes to remove the beast from the truck. I did it once, flying at the seat of my pants, but relying mostly on my years of experience from the National Guard backing trucks even bigger and badder than the one I have into impossible situations. The number one thing I learned then was to trust your ground guide and patience: lots of patience.

So after many hours of getting everything looked at dumping the water, refilling and dumping again, we also discovered how to run the heater and air-conditioner, turned on burner to the stove and we also realized you have to be either very tall or possession of a stepladder or stool to reach say the knobs to the LP tanks or the overhead vent. After about 9 o’clock, he felt comfortable about leaving us to safely takes the beast down and back.

Monday I will make sure the camper gets licensed and she leaves on Tuesday for the great vacation adventure that awaits her. God willing, everything will work out just fine.

Tearing Down Monuments

I may not have told my readers this, but I’m also a history buff and have strong opinions when it comes to revising history because it’s the thing to do at the time. I’m not a big fan of those people out there who are so ignorant of the facts that they feel compelled to tear down monuments from the past to suit their political agenda.

Yes, racism in all its forms and functions is ethically and morally reprehensible. My best friend, who is politically conservative, is with me on this too. But, to tear down monuments of Confederate soldiers and generals, or even our former presidents because they at one time held views that are not now mainstream is also ethically and morally wrong.

I can’t emphasize enough how damning it is to fall into a trap that is and always will be a method of censorship. Tearing down monuments of whomever because their belief system was counter to our more enlightened views is like burning books because they hold truths that we don’t believe in anymore. Creating history out of vapors isn’t history but fiction. Modern historians often are condemned as revisionists because their perspective of the past has fundamentally changed. An example of this is that of Capt. John Smith and Pocahontas. The truth of the whole thing was that she was but a child when they met and later married someone else, went to England where she died from Smallpox when she was 21.

I’m using two examples to show why I feel as I do toward removal of these statues; symbolisms of history, whether we like it or not, Jefferson Davis and Robert E Lee. Lee himself opposed his image being used in such a manner, believing instead that the South needed to move forward following their defeat, but thanks to this lost cause ideology, those statues were built and placed in parks and other public places throughout the South. Jefferson Davis may have been but a brief footnote in history had it not been for this same group of Southern expatriates.

Rather than tear down monuments that represent our historical past, we should instead break down walls of misunderstanding and mistrust and build bridges to unify our country to our better angels. Or we too will be left with nothing to remind future generations of our collective history, right, wrong, or in-between.

Visit With Dad

Last night I was watering my yard when Dad appeared. We visited while I placed hoses around the yard and set sprinklers in strategic locations.

I asked him what he thought of everything going on in the world these days.

“Pray that it ends soon,” he replied with ominous tones. He’s always been like that and then he would laugh as if he were telling me this in jest.

But, this time he didn’t laugh. “What’s up Dad?”

“Nothing that concerns you in this world. I would definitely prepare yourself for the next one though. Are all your affairs in order?”

“I got plenty of time for that Dad.”

“You know time is finite, don’t you?” He gave me a cursory glance at the lagoon at Long Lake at Tum Tum.

“I know, I remember. But it was your time, then. You had lost hope wanted this.”

“I didn’t lose hope. I had another plan that’s all. God helped me out, as well as he did your mother. Some day he’ll do the same for you. Are you ready?”

“I supposed I am. Do you have an exact date?”

“I gotta go visit your sisters. They’re expecting me to come visit too. You’re putting too much water on that bush you got there.” He then walked away down Rowan Street.

I awoke and thought about what he stated. Obviously, the crap we are faced with is of no concern for him anymore. He’s with Him and will be undoubtedly forever. I’m sure he knows something is up and that what we are faced with today is not all that bad as long as we have hope and faith that this will eventually work out.

I sometimes wish he were still around, but am, also glad he’s not. What little advice he offered me last night was about par when he was alive; more elusive than forthcoming. It was as if he was telling me, “figure it out for yourself; I did.”

So what that I’m dealing with a pandemic and racial injustice that has spurred to racial unrest. He had remnants of the Great Depression, followed by World War Two and then the Cold War and the craziness of the 60s to contend with. Granted he was but a child in those first episodes of his life, but an adult later. There was very much uncertainty in our country then. Blame was spread far and wide across both political parties as to who was at fault.

Then there was the personal baggage he had to contend with: making a living, feeding, and putting a roof over his family’s heads, being responsible and not having anyone to talk to. His dad died just after my first birthday in 1959.

Maybe grandpa visited him in his dreams too like he did mine last night. Maybe this was his way of saying Happy Fathers’ Day.

My New and Improved Website

Last week, my web master Frank asked me about changing my site to make it look newer and fresher. Since I got two new books coming out shortly, he thought it would be a good idea to give you, my readers a better look into my projects that I worked on what will undoubtedly show up on bookstore shelves in the future.

So, if you normally go through my website first, then you already are aware of the changes that occurred. If you usually go through the social media sites I use to post my blogs, then please browse around and see what Frank has done. It’s quite remarkable to say the least. I just wish I was more photogenic than I am.

So, when my first published book–outside Amazon’s KDP–is ready and available, Frank will show you the product before it becomes available to the public in bookstores or online. That’s A Man’s Passion. I was hoping it would be ready by October, but after emailing my editor at Austin Macauley, it may be delayed more because of the COVID-19. It’s still being readied for proofreading.

Where We go From Here

Sunday evening after coming home from work and doing my usual chores before relaxing and preparing to get myself motivated for the next day I watched TV and saw a special report that I should stay away Downtown Spokane because of a civil disturbance occurring.

A half hour later,. local news reporters holding microphones and standing rigidly before news cameras used sobering tones to express a serious situation rapidly developing in downtown Spokane. The quiet and reasonably peaceful protests of a couple hours ago somehow got highjacked by not so peaceful looters, vandals and other all around not-so-nice people.

It’s a scene that played out in every other major and not-so-major city in this country, as if it was planned and orchestrated to publicly show the world our true colors. The day after, news of the craziness here in Spokane showed all too clearly what had occurred and many including myself figured outside demonstrators were to blame. People who live here, couldn’t have possibly done this to our town. Yet, it’s possible the opposite is true.

Think about it. Think about the people out there who are marginalized, poor, and always hurting. I know I look the other way when I see a homeless person panhandling; assuming that what he or she wants isn’t food but drugs or alcohol from that cash donation. The tribal casino I work for has any number of people who grace our presence with their foul odor from not bathing in days because they don’t have that luxury where they’re staying at. Think of how many minorities you’ve run across and automatically assumed they were less than honorable or trustworthy. My wife assumes all Muslims are terrorists, can you say that too?

Then we have a President who sees more fit to group those on the far left as terrorists than those on the far right who he sees as loyal Americans.

Where do we stand from here? The problem isn’t just about us versus them as Shawn Vestal of Spokesman Review elegantly stated it: “Us is all of us, like it or not. At this moment of extraordinary national tension, so full of the potential for violence, so fractured at the core, so full of venom and incitement radiating from the White House, and so vilely attended by bigoted online calls to shoot protesters or run them over, us versus them is a disastrous formulation.” We need to stand united whether some of our leaders like it or not.

Another Crazy Week

I thought it was bad enough when in my own town of Spokane, we have an absolute fool running around, partying with friends and is COVID-19 positive. To this stupid and needless murder of a black man by a white cop, who should have known better but instead followed his darkest angels and now the result is the ordering of American troops brought to Minneapolis to restore order.

While it is true, you can’t fix stupid, you do have to try and fix the result; the butterfly effect, because now in light of those two people’s actions, thousands of lives and property damage are now affected by what happened this past week.

Mordecai L. Cochrane, who works at Philadelphia Pasta Plant, tested positive for the Corona virus and was ordered to stay home. Instead, he and some of his work buddies go out and party somewhere, potentially infecting hundreds more, then he gets busted for DUI, further exposing at least six more police officers for just doing their job.

Then if that isn’t enough, he gets released and Monday, goes out and parties some more with most likely the same group of friends and of course is busted a second time for DUI. This time he admits he’s tested positive and is purposefully ignoring orders to stay home and self-isolate. He claims he feels fine and it’s no big deal.

 Derek Chauvin will be remembered as the person who pressed his knee into George Floyd’s neck for over eight minutes until he lost consciousness. He was fired along with three other officers, and then Friday arrested and charged with third degree murder in Floyd’s death.

While all of this was going on, African Americans, angered by this latest example of alleged police brutality against another unarmed black man went on a rioting and looting rampage that triggered more riots and lootings elsewhere from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

Like I said earlier, you can’t fix stupid, but then you still have to deal with the consequences such actions take.

Guardian Angel

She died the other night and her guardian angel received word from God via text message–modern age. She was a sad angel because she was always there to protect her for over seventy human years–angels are eternal. Now she had to go and find a new human to protect, but there was time and she always had time–angels are good at that.

She went to the funeral disguised as a breeze and watched the woman’s family worship and pray for her eternal soul. Tears were shed and songs were played in her honor. A young preacher came and offered comfort to the family. She watched the father and two sons place her into the earth and place the soil over her simple casket. They laid a cross made of wood upon her grave where eventually a engraved headstone would lay that had MOM carved into the pine home-made cross. The Guardian angel saw all of this and she cried too.

“I will miss you human, but now somewhere in heaven you are meeting God for the first time and someday I’ll introduce myself to you.”

Some days later, A recently released spirit came to the guardian angel’s door of her house. There was a tentative knock, then a slightly more forceful knock as if this spirit thought she was hard of hearing. She answered. “Yes? Oh you! How marvelous I finally met you! I was your guardian angel, but I guess God told you that or you wouldn’t be here.”

“This isn’t a social call,” she replied in a terse, unapologetic arrogant voice. “Some a..hole–wait I can’t curse in heaven?”

“Oh goodness no, that’s one of the rules in our bylaws. Never ever curse a human. Instead you will become all tongue-tied as you just found out. Now, tell me what happened over tea and scones.” The guardian angel led her inside and they sat on a divan where a tea service sat on a coffee table in front of them. “Lemon or sugar?”

“No thank you. Look, obviously you know who I am. I just found out something horrible–someone stole the cross that my son in law made and my family placed upon my grave. My son and daughter went to visit and discovered it was taken. I want revenge for that!”

“Oh my word, that is unfortunate. I have just the spiritual being that will do you the justice you seek. It does cost you though.”

“What could it cost?”

“One of your chuilden will not be here when there time comes.” She sipped on her tea and waited for the new spirit’s response. “I would suggest you think long and hard before you answer.”

“You mean if I seek out this avenging angel, the payment is that one of my children don’t go to heaven? Where do they go then? Hell?”

“Nothing that drastic, no. It’s complicated. The place is called Neverland.”

“You mean like Peter Pan?”

“I wish. If you agree to this you can never see that person, and he or she can never see you. Nor will that person ever be here, thus the disillusionment that all they were taught on earth regarding the greatness of heaven and the beauty of God, will be for nothing. They will be stuck in a limbo, like inside a bubble, forever.”

She chewed on her scone with a thoughtful expression on her ethereal face. “There is no way to go around this? Like a loophole?”

“Well, there is always a loophole, but that too requires some form of payment. My suggestion to you is to forgive this lost soul for his moment of weakness. After all, he can’t gain anything from it. No amount will be provided where he could possibly profit from. The Golden Rule was preached to you from Jesus’ mouth for a reason. It is a good rule to live and die by. Aren’t these scone just divine?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. So, you aren’t going to help me on this?”

“I’m more than happy to help, but there is always a cost to everything. My question is, how much are you willing to pay for the satisfaction that you got your revenge?”

“Damn, I want to see all my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren here when their time comes. I don’t want to leave anybody out!” She started weeping bitterly.

“Then, the way I see it, is your mind is made up to forgive this person who stole that cross from your earthly grave.”

She wiped the tears from her face and nodded. “I supposed that’s what I’ll have to do then.”

“More tea?”

What Else Is There?

I just got back from the car wash about a minute ago and came upon a rude realization that my wife awoken me on when I informed her the trip to the car wash was a wasted trip. I had in mind to vacuum out the interior because it was filled with all manner of dirt, pollen and dog hair. But, while you can wash the car, you can’t vacuum it because some genius thought Coronavirus lived inside vacuums,

I’m not certain how scientifically true that is because I have no evidence disputing their claim. Maybe it’s true, but if that is the case, shouldn’t I been infected with COVID-19 everytime I stepped inside my car and drove around? Shouldn’t I be dead? Or in the hospital with a ventilator run down my throat and forced to breathe pure oxygen?

At this moment, I’m upset because many people are doing things that defy common sense. This little case demonstrates that most clearly. I don’t believe whoever thought that corona virus lived in a vacuum had his or hers facts straight.

As for the rest of this stuff we are forced to endure, it’s a scientific case of trial and error. According to an article in the New York Times, the relaxing of restrictions is at best a gamble–roll of the dice. Frankly no one knows anything about this and that is what so terrifying for everyone. Are we doomed to a sudden reemergence come November when our guard is down? Is this whole scare going to enforce a new normal and redraw our political and social fabric to those that believe in the safety and security of the many at the sacrifice of our freedom and liberties. Will this pandemic create new civil wars and revolutions for the foreseeable future?

One thing that is a certainty, is the fact that everything has turned upside-down and many who lived in the comfort and complacency of the status quo are feeling more and more isolated and frustrated. So now everyone needs to buy their own Dust Devils to clean their car’s interiors with.