Fred Meyer the Family Friend

Another thing I spent a lot of money on was Comic books . And there were lots of comics to choose from . The Super heroes , GI Joe Comics , Daffy Duck and friends , Mickey Mouse ..I really can't begin to remember them all .

I was not good at keeping comic books pristine . That's like saying the ocean is salty , or my Brother really hated it when I discovered his current comic book hiding place. As a result in a few short months my comics would be torn apart , dripped on , stepped on , used to hit flies ,washed with my jeans , left at school accidentally or confiscated at school. One thing I can be assured of , I don't need to search my past to find a stack of mint comic books ready to be sold on Ebay.

Just about everyone I hung out with had comic books , and part of the fun of visiting our friends at home was reading their comics and trading them . I found Ii could get more mileage out of my trades by trading my Brothers .

Most of our comic books we purchased were purchased at a local Grocery Store chain called Fred Meyer's . For most of the week the little Grocery store on the corner worked quite well . but every two weeks after dad got paid we would make the 15 drive to the Burlingame Fred Meyer Store .

Finding any information about the History of this store seems very difficult here is what I do know about Fred Meyer Courtesy if Wiki : Fred Meyer, Inc., is a chain of hypermarkets founded in 1922 in Portland , by Fred G. Meyer. The company was one of the pioneers of one-stop shopping, eventually combining a complete grocery supermarket with a drugstore, clothing store, shoe store, fine jewellers, home decor store, home improvement centre, garden centre, electronics store, toy store, sporting goods store, and more under one roof.

All that was totally lost on Bob and I . If asked we would thought every town in every state of every nation would have a Fred Meyer . As it is with so much we were blessed and didn't know it.

We looked forward to the bi Monthly visits to Fred Meyer . And so did our parents . Freddy's had hit on a clever Idea that was humane and Family friendly. In the short run they probably lost money for this decision , but in the long run it garnered them generations of Faithful Customers .

Fred Meyer had a Comic book section that was as vast as the prairies were vast , and though I had never really seen a prairie , I knew vast when I saw it . The comic book section was directly in front of the Check out counters . Scores of spindle displays reached half way to the stars ...and gathered around these colourful monuments to children's literature , Bob and I would be left off with scores of other children . So while our parents shopped ( Protesting and whining child free ) we would sit under the shadow of the comic book forest and read comics . Yes we were actually allowed to sample the comic books before we bought them . To be sure many kids wee slow readers so it was imperative that the comic was purchased at the end of the shopping cycle, but both bob and I were also very good readers so we could easily toss off about 5 comic books , before we settled on one or two to take home . IN fact we rarely read the comic books we took home instead reading ones that we enjoyed but not enough to purchase . It was a good thing . One of my favourite family memories .

When mom and dad were done shopping they would collect us , we would pay for our comics and the they would be placed in the cart . The carts had a numbering system and each cart had two matching numbers . The clerk would give my parents one number and leave the other on the cart . Then we would go to where the car was parked and drive it up to the store. Mom would hang the number over her window , and we would pull up in front of the Fred Meyer . Carts filled with Groceries were lined up , and a young man would match our number on the window with the cart with the same number and proceed to load the groceries in the car .

Again a pretty neat system, the paring lot was filled with cars not carts , by working efficiently Freddy's was able to spend less on Carts , and you had the impression you were really being served .

On the way home , bob and I would good naturally fight , usually because bob would suddenly be reminded that he couldn't find the new Casper the Ghost Comic He had bought two weeks ago and would accuse me of stealing it .. I would defend myself defiantly drawing a fine line between stealing his comic book and the truth which was I used it in a sweet trade with Rex for his GI Joe commando Comic and a Road Runner ( Beep Beep) for a strawberry stained Casper the Ghost .

Family time ...was good time .

Interlude ....Thank you Lord for Prayers and Chemistry

Been  a few troubles  lately . Last week I started having issues with a tooth , turned into a full blown infection . For a while it looked as if I was hiding a golf ball in my cheek .

I really hate  to spend money on me , but it became really necessary . Lori had some money she had saved up for her contacts and  she graciously , let me use it for Pain killers , anti biotics and Steroids .   Taking this full scale assulat on the infection coupled with hands on prayer on Sunday , and airborn prayer on Monday has turned the whole situation around .

In the midst of all that it seemed to be a pretty ugly week in the Social media areas I hang out in way too much .  There is a lot of anger out there ..and after a while it just wears me down . 

Lori and I are starting to get ready to get ready to head out to Oregon in early March , planning several stops along the way including a very much looked forward to family reunion with Loris Sisters , and their husbands and children . 

I will be spending more time in the next few weeks working on our verse of the day offereings to have ready for the days we are traveling .

Also I am still working on Photos from our last Oregon Trip   posting a few of them on this message today . 

Running on sugar ...

Having money in our pockets meant one thing ..we needed to spend it . I find it interesting that as I look back I remember much easier what I did to earn money than what I spent it on . and I have absolutely nothing to show in the tangible of what I purchased with my hard earned money .

Candy was a big part of spending , and we had lots of choices to tempt us . Some of them are still around Hershey Chocolate bars and Snickers , Three Musketeers were very popular . MY favourites seemed to vary from pay day to day ..I think my all time favourites were Big hunks and Ice Cubes . There were also some wax Candy favorites  ( red lips and teeth )  , we even had  Candy Cigarettes so we could be like our parents , and bubble Gum Cigars .  there were  once inch cubes of real bubble gum  ..which if left unattended could be used to build a house on .

A few blocks away from us was the corner Grocery store it sat on he intersection of Capital Highway and miles street . My Memory fades but I believe it was Colemans Grocery store . It was a small place with Candy in the front and meats in the back , a few bins of produce and lots of Cigarettes up front as well . The floors were wooden and the owners were always there ..It was a Husband and wife team ..hey lived in a house behind the store on 31st street .

Shopping for candy seemed to be a communal experience , its one of the few things I can remember my Brother and I doing together . After Cupcakes and kool-aide we would take some of our money , saving some for later , and walk or ride our bikes down to the Grocery store . We would then spend several minutes , drooling , picking up examining , the wide variety of candy available . Some was eaten with in minutes of Purchase , while some was hidden in our respective Hiding places for the lean days of Candy famine.

I don't believe we spent much of our money on Soda Pop . though it was readily available . Not sure why ... I Know we were rationed Coca Cola by my mother , we would have some as a special treat ...Another of my favourites was Orange Soda . and Strawberry cola . I suspect one of the problems with Soda was opening it . there were no twist tops then , a bottle opener was required . There were rumors of a Metal can but we did not see them until either very late in 1959 or into the 60's . I also do not recall very much available in the Salty snack food department either .

My Childhood was definitly sweet  ....

Money , Money , Money

  * unidentified boy helping with laundry

Bob and I were encouraged to help out at home and to earn our " allowance " . we had a lot of Chores that needed to be . For the most part Children were the energy saving devices of the 50's but we were high maintanince and we did have some side effects. We frequently needed direction , woul doften forget what we were supposed to be doing and needed to be fed .

Around our house chores included: Folding the Laundry , feeding the dog , Stacking the wood , washing and drying the dishes . During the summer picking vegetables gardening . I don't remember what we earned but it seemed as if we always had a little bit of pocket change for the Grocery store on the corner .

I think more than anything else we were encouraged to help out around the home ..it was expected of us , but our parents also understood the value of teaching us about work and money.

I don't know for sure when bob and i began working in the fields , and i don't remember if it was always Bob and I going out together ..or if I started first . I Just remember I was pretty young when I first started picking Strawberry's .

* Unkown Bean picker 1955
photo Courtesy of Flicr Member KuKak 

Portland is nestled along the Willamette river , one of the rare rivers that runs from South to North in the Western Hemisphere .. The cascades on one side and the Coastal mountain range on the other the Willamette valley is one of the most productive farm lands in the USA .

IN the 50's these crops were picked by a diverse group of farm workers . From the local Grade schools , and High schools ...and Migrant workers from Mexico.

IT worked like this : The first crop were the Strawberries ...early in the morning a bus would pick us up in front of Multnomah School . There would be about a dozen perhaps more of us there . Each of us would have our own lunch and water . The ride to the farm was about 45 minutes long . Stopping occasionally to pick up other Kids on the way . Our destination was a group of Commercial farms near St Paul Oregon . I don't remember the name of these farms . I do remember it was a Japanese family. When we arrived at the Farm we would be assigned rows of Berries to harvest . We would be given an empty flat to place the berries in and when we filled it up we would take it to a collection location , there we would have a ticket punched indicating we had a filled flat . At the collection location our flats would be checked to make sure that the Berries were ripe , no dirt clods or extraneous material in the flat as well . We were paid by the flat , and at the end of the day we received our " wages " in the form of cash . Often we would work side my side with Mexican children sometimes even families . IT was hard work , the sanitary conditions were horrible , the out houses reeked , and the water available at the Farms was nasty . But at the end of the day the cash was nice , and it was yours . After Strawbeery season there was the Bean Season. It was basically the same idea ..the buses from the Farm in this case Alderman farms would pick us up .

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Alderman Farms

As a twenty-four-year-old barrel maker from Michigan, Albert Alderman migrated to Oregon in 1846. A year later, he bought farmland five miles south of Dayton that would eventually become one of the nation’s largest row-crop farms. In the post-World War II era, Alderman Farms employed over 2,500 day laborers on a peak picking of pole beans. Most of the laborers were local teenagers; the farm was the summertime job for thousands of mid-Willamette Valley youth, particularly in Yamhill County.

Alderman’s son, Ennis (1870-1939), built the original 150-acre farm to 1,300 acres by the time it was passed to his son, Urie S. Alderman (1898-1964), upon Ennis’s death. Potatoes were the major crop in 1939; but wartime brought a demand for more crops, and Urie expanded into corn, beans, and strawberries. In 1946, the farm opened its own frozen-food plant. It was a community unto itself, with a service station, maintenance shops, sawmill, helicopter, cafeteria, and 750,000-gallon water tank.
At its peak in the late 1950s, when Alderman owned or leased over 3,000 acres of farmland, the farm set what was believed to be a record of picking 181 tons of pole beans in one day. Some sources said the farm produced 2 percent of the nation’s snap beans.
Pole beans were the most labor-intensive of Alderman’s crops, requiring crews to install and dismantle poles and wires and to irrigate and pick the crops. Alderman Farms hired about 750 pickers a season during World War II, but in the mid-1950s the bean crews grew to over 2,500. Buses brought pickers from as far away as Vancouver, Washington, and the present Lincoln City. The farm leased school buses, many from McMinnville bus operators Joe Dancer and Art Bennett, who also supervised the summer picking crews.
Extensive use of local youth (as opposed to migrants) in the fields was largely a creation of the wartime demand for food and labor. Oregon was a national leader in the use of youth employment during World War II. Summer harvest jobs for middle-class “townies” continued through the 1960s; but strawberry crews were reduced by child-labor laws in the 1960s, and farmers switched from labor-intensive pole beans to machine-harvested bush beans in the 1970s.
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Arriving at the Farm again we would be assigned a row , with beans we had a partner ..one on each side of the row . The beans would stretch up to 5 feet high , so many of the younger children who picked Strawberries were at a disadvantage ..I believe you had to be a certain height to pick beans . The snap beans were picked and placed in a sack ...as you picked more the weight of the sack grew ...the idea was to fill the sack and take it to a collection point where it was weighed ...sometimes these collection points were a good walk way ..most of us had two choices either fill up the sack modestly and spend a lot of time hiking back and forth to the collection point ,( time spent when you could be picking ) or to fill the sack to such a point that you could barely drag it to the scales . Sometimes if you were lucky at the end of the row you might run into a kind hearted adult who would help you with your load . many of the Mexicans working in the fields were kind hearted . The weight of each sack was noted on a ticket you carried and by the end of the day you were paid by the pound . One of the advantages of picking beans was the bean poles and plants afforded you some shade and protection from the Sun,
In addition to Strawberries and Beans we would occasionally pick Raspberries and Blackcaps ( a type of berry used in the printing of money ) . I picked in the Fields for four years ...the money I earned was mine to spend on frivolous things ...My parents still paid for our food and our clothes . .. IT was hard work ...I never really enjoyed it ..the best part was the ride home with money in your pocket and something else I can't describe , just a feeling as you slipped into sleep as the Bus rolled along .
The walk up the hill to our house seemed longer on these days ..but once through the door mom would have kool aide and cookies or cupcakes for us ...it was good to be home ..very good indeed .

 

Connections and a fugitives angst

As the confusion from the Explosion began to fade away ..several things became clearer . The tree was still standing ..Rex was getting his breath back , most of the kids had scattered . and the tree was on fire ..so was the ground beneath it as embers dropped onto the dry leaves and grasses .

Having a fire extinguisher was not part of my plan , so it seemed reasonable to leave the woods . And it was at this point that all the excitement , all the joy , and enthusiasm for my experiment took a turn . I had thought that the means I Had employed , the breaking into my parents bedroom , stealing shells , covering my tracks , would have a much better pay off . to be honest I was terrified ...the fire was very real and it was not going to go away .. I raced home ...afraid to go into the house I Hid in the small space between our garage and the Garage next door . From here I could see a neighbourhood prodded to action as the sound of the volunteer fire men and their trucks could be heard in the distance .

From the woods to the Fire station was less than a half of a mile ...it didn't take long for a response ...Hoses were coupled to a nearby Hydrant , fire lines were laid back into the woods ...the fire had moved out and up ...if unchecked it would have singed several houses ..but it was quickly knocked down .

It was after the fire was put out that the " investigtion " began . For the rest of the day I cowered behind the woodpile , fearing it was only a matter of time before they would come for me . And this fear was genuine and it was paralizing ..Rex who had seen me dive into the hiding place came by to tell Me he had heard that Wayne Twitchel had told the firemen and plice He thought i was responsible .

I never could confirm this ...I had always wanted to ask Wayne about it , but never had the chance .

Wayne lived up the street from me . I always remember him as being somewhat awkward , tall and had a noticeable stutter ...we would occasionally see each other on the way to school , I don't think I had any negative feelings about him ..we just moved in different orbits . Wayne seemed to excel at throwing things . BY things I mean baseballs and Footballs . IN little league He was one of two of the most feared pitchers we would stand up against . BY the time He got to High School He was a Legend . In High School He earned 9 letters in Basketball , Baseball and Football . after High School he was drafted by He was selected by the Houston Astros during the 1st round of the 1966 Amateur Draft, but would make his Major League debut with the Brewers on September 9th, 1970, appearing in 2 games that season. The following year with the Phillies, Twitchell pitched in 6 games, posting a 1 win 0 loss record, with a 0.00 ERA in 16 innings pitched. He reached the pinnacle of his career in 1973 with the Phillies, when he notched 13 victories, 10 complete games, including 5 shutouts (third in the league), with 169 strikeouts, and a 2.50 ERA, earning National League All-Star status. Twitchell concluded his career after appearing in 4 games with the Mariners in 1979, compiling a 48 win, 65 loss record, with a 3.98 lifetime ERA, in 1,063 innings pitched. Following his playing career, he returned to Wilson High School where he served as a pitching coach and worked in the real estate industry. He was inducted into the Oregon Sports Hall of Fame in 2006. He died from cancer. (bio by: C.S.)

On June 10th 1972 Wayne faced Hank Aaron , Hank hit a home run # 649 Lacing Hank on top of the all time Home run hitters .

All this to say ..this world is much smaller than we thing of it ...we bump and press against each other and have no idea of how all that bumping and pressing shapes us and the planet .

As it turned out as the sun went down ..I crept home ..still anxious , still trembling ..I would never again steal my Dads ammo. The police never came to our door , I was not lead out in handcuffs ...but later my mother would be digging in the Garden and she would expose a hasty burial site filled with discarded shotgun shells and a maimed Hop along Cassidy Toy pistol .

Not only does life have a way of bumping into you ..it also has a way of catching up as well.

I was vacationing in Oregon when I heard of Waynes death .

It reminded me of this incident in the woods , of childhood gone all to soon . BY every account i read of Wayne He was a wonderful and humble man ..I would have very much liked to meet with him and share stories from those Multnomah days ...

I thought there was supposed to be a Kaboom

The day had turned warm ...Sunshine piercing the darkness of the forest ..under our feet the ground crunched it leaves that had lingered from the fall were dry and brittle beneath our feet . The same crowd had gathered , in fact it looked as if it had grown .. I was compelled to say a few words about the importance of reading and the Joy of Science ...if nothing else this might serve to push some of the kids toward doing their homework .

I placed the device in the carved out crevice . dangling from it was a fuse about 6 inch's long made by twisting several smaller fuses together , it was delicate , but should survive a quick ( hopefully not to quick ) burn . It had come to this , one perfect moment in the bright light of day a defining moment in my personal History , it was as if by this day , by this act , I , the leader of this band of brothers , these few these happy few , these lads with strawberry and peanut butter stained faces looking out at me from around trees and under brush piles ..I would become a giant in their crusted eyes .

No matches .

I had forgot them ...a momentary panic set in ..no matches meant no fire , no fire meant no fizzle to the fuse , no fuse fizzle no Kaboom .

I was forced to share my moment . I asked , nay pleaded , for matches , the noise was deafening as dozens of kids searched and dug deep into their pockets ..past gum wrappers , jaw breakers old fishing eggs , and finally one book of matches was produced .. It was glssy white with bright red letters , TIMS Septic Service ..Cherry 209-4567 , inside ..standing tall and proud one singular match ...the chosen one .

The moment had come ....trembling ,I struck the matched and was encouraged by the immediate response of the match head to the striking surface it burst into flame . I had made the fuse long enough to give me ample time to dive behind Rex ( he was much larger than I was and afforded me a greater degree of security ) . The fuse sputtered ..I looked at it pleadingly then ..like a deer at the sound of a car door it bolted it raced  along the entire length if the six inch fuse instantly ... consumed in a twinkling of an eye ...but my eyes were not twinkling , if anything they were fused wide open as I saw the smoke  race toward my oblivion ... It was as if the world suddenly stopped spinning , everything came to a dead stop , wind , sun , noise even the sparks hung suspended in air ....and in that moment my entire life hung in the balance .. granted it had been a short life , and recalling the memories did not take much time ...but there I was standing with that "holy moly" look on my face looking at a 6 inch fuse going into a 6 inch homemade firecracker filled with the propellant from 10 shotgun shells . Something took over and I snapped myself out of the moment and dove for cover . My body like that of a well trained Ninja ..catapulted in the direction of Rex who was busy digging his body deeper into the hardened dirt and leaves ...I missed my landing point landing on top of Him ...caught a good bounce and landed within a few feet of where I intended ...at that moment the tree seemed to explode . The concussion was huge .. Smoke and debri filled the air ...the tree seemed to groan and creak ...then i realized that was Rex ...The thought did occur to me that tree might actually fall , and if it fell it was surrounded by the children of the neighborhood plus visitors and the twins ...it would fall on someone and tonight there would be an empty place at the dinner table for someone . The realization that I might be the cause of this ..fused me into action . at the top of my Lungs I yelled out ...TIMBER!!!!!!!!! folled by a very wheezy runnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn for your lives cough cough , gasp gasp .

Scores of kids took heed and the woods came alive ....

Meanwhile down at the school , my brother who had wandered down there to find me was still wondering where I was , and where everyone else was as well . Then he heard it ,,,the far off bomb not unlike a sonic boom but somehow closer to earth , in a sweeping motion He turned his gaze taking him up the hill on 33rd street till it rested on a singular puff of smoke to the left of the road near where Miles street dead ended into the woods . At that precise moment the air raid siren started its wail ..I can only imagine what was racing through Bobs mind ...as He tried to understand what was happening ...almost immediately he caught a glimpse of neighbourhood cats and dogs racing ahead of a group of children racing down the Hill ...Away from the smoke now growing more menacing .

Its kind of strange those who were there do not remember this as I do ...but we all remember the fire trucks ...

Mom's Super powers revealed

Lunch was interesting , With so many witnesses watching my every move i had no choice but to keep the " device " in my pocket . Keeping it in my pocket meant it was sure to be seen by my mothers xray vision . To be fair I could never really prove she had it ..but like a black hole is known by that which it affects around it ...My mothers secret powers ...frequently gave themselves away. The Xray vision was not the only power she possessed. Like most mothers and several of my teachers she had Ocular rear craniumitis , Mom also had an exaggerated sense of smell and could hear a ( or not hear ) a toilet flush from several rooms away . Mom wasn't as strong as some of the other mothers , but what she lacked in strength she more than made up in speed.

It was under her steely gaze, flared nostrils and keen hearing I was resigned to eat my lunch that fateful day. Bob came home late ,,he had been down at the school looking for me ..apparently He had misunderstood and thought I was going to the school to play. I assured him he must have heard me wrong , He also mentioned the school playground was eerily quiet . I commented that I was really impressed he was able to use the word eerily in a sentence . My humour was lost on Him as he started in on the Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup placed before him, Mom made really good Grilled Cheese Sandwiches , Campbell's made the tomato soup , I Liked the Sandwich would have preferred to squeeze on of our own home grown tomatoes and heat it up.

As I was plowing through the first half of the sandwich I could feel my mothers eyes looking toward my right front pocket ...I tried to put as much of my stomach into the table as possible shifted my weight ,,as best I could ...it seemed to help , mom gave me just a causal glance ..but then I could see her Nostrils flare .

"What's that smell ?" she asked. At a time like this its good to offer a preemptory response I spoke quickly with certainty " Gee I don't know mom , but it definitely doesn't smell like gun powder " She gave me a quizzical look but continued on ...."Did you boys check your shoes before you came in ? " I immediately twisted my leg to check my feet , suddenly a sharp pain surged through my little seven year old body ,,,the " device " had shifted and was now pressing firmly against my boy hood ...and it hurt ...I mean it really hurt . Fighting back the pain ..I looked at both shoe bottoms,,,,they were clean ...Bob how ever had that holy crap how did that crap get on my shoe look ...Sheepishly he removed the show ,,,and took it out side ,,,returning to the table I gently reminded him to wash his hands ,,,he shot me a look ,

 

Two close calls ,,,,the inevitable happened ,,,my heart started racing ,,,the oscillating sound of the veins and arteries working in concert , began to rival the fortissimo of the 1812 Overture , I looked over at Bob ..by the blank look on his face I knew he could hear it , and if He could hear it ,,,mom was already calling my Dad ...Afraid to meet her gaze I feigned a look over her shoulder ...remarkably she seemed calm ...My heart was beating louder ...each new constriction of my Heart was a dead giveaway ...I was doomed ....it was then I realized the Sandwich was gone , and so was the soup ...with sweat rolling over my eyes I asked for permission to leave the table ....I left with Bob still on the last half of the sandwich , told him I was going to check out why no one was at the school , then slipped out the door .....time for a date with Destiny

The thing gets underway ...

 

 

 

The next morning I could barely contain myself . I went through the morning breakfast ritual like competition hot dog eater at Coney Island ..though at the time I didn't know about Coney island or Competition Hot dog eating at the time.

Rex and Wheezy had been sworn to secrecy . I Had a slight nudge that what I was about to do might be wrong , and only wanted a few witness to the " test " firing .

Kissed mom on the Cheek , told my Brother I was going to pay down at the School as a diversion . Slipped out the back door ...and retrieved the "Hop along Bomb".

As I rounded the Garage I saw Rex already heading into the woods ..I also saw a couple of neighborhood kids headed that way as well , we would have to wait till they cleared the woods to begin with the days festivities .

The weight of the " HAP " was heavy in pocket , probably because in my pocket was also my Japanese Army Knife ( too poor to afford a Swiss army Knife , a banana , and a half eaten peanut butter and Jelly sandwich .

The woods seemed noisier than usual ...it was filled with Neighbourhood kids , and a few strangers , and as I found out later a pair of twins from Iowa who were visiting .

To this day no one who was present know who invited the kids from Iowa .

Apparently Rex who had been uncomfortable being with us as we made the device , had been comfortable enough to wander the neighbourhood telling the kids about it .

There were two compelling issues facing me . One was that great group of witnesses , any one of which might tell on me ...and two was if I chickened out now , I would have to convince my Parents to move back to Vallejo or worse yet Climax colorado and even there so far way living in fear that I would be pointed out .

The only responsible action was doing the unresponsible deed .

The first step was finding an appropriate place for detonation . The large tree we had incorrectly identified as a Balsa Tree seemed perfect . With my knife i was easlily able to gorge out a small cleft in the tree . about 3 feet up just at the point where the first great branch diverged . All the while the crowd of children kept growing ...As I dug deeper nto the Tree ..my cheap knife snapped a blade ...I called out for Help , and in a scene reminiscent of the loaves and fishes i was surrounded by a bevy of knives and implements to use ..there were kitchen knives , one grapefruit spoon , a hand made aluminium knife several screw drivers and the one i choose to complete the task a Leather working awl. In those days venturing into the woods demanded some sort of protection . I had hear later that one of the Twins from Iowa had even brought a pitchfork ..but I didn't see it myself ,and have chosen to only relate that which I can personally testify too.

The soft outer part of the tree decended into much denser wood ...the going was going less ...the task was made even more difficult by constant interruption from others who felt they had a better way ..in fact several started their own test holes in the tree ... Time slipped away ...in the distance we could begin to hear different mothers calling out that lunch was ready ...I knew my mothers voice would soon be heard as well. We didn't have cell phones then ...but we had mothers with Lungs power full enough to belt out a cmannd from more than three blocks away ...one of the Kids actually lived four blocks away , but His mother was an accomplished swimmer and was able to belt out a Prodigious " TIMMY" that could be heard above the din of the Weekly Air Raid test . Knowing that lunch was imminent , we decided en masse to retire to our homes to Have lunch ...the Test would have to wait . ...

Into the Woods and BOMBS away

The woods are lovely dark and  deep ...

 

 

The wood's  dead end at 33rd and Miles St.

 

 

 

Within a few feet of our home was the woods . Miles Street dead ended at the entrance of the woods . 33rd street raced by them . This was an area of undeveloped land quite narrow that went about two blocks .

It was the place of mystery , adventure and testing of various home made explosive devices . A winding path made its way through the entire length of the woods , with little trails going off to the right and to the left .

We could play there for hours , games of hide and seek , Games of war , and scientific discovery .

I belive it was Rex who first introduced us to the possibilities of explosives . Rex was from Missouri and after one retrun trip home He came back with Fireworks . These were real fireworks . not the fake fireworks sold in Oregon at the time , but real storm the beaches of the pacific kind of fire works ..Big red Fireworks about half the size of a stick of Dynamite , (we assumed) . Cherry Bombs and M 80 's . Fire works that could make an entire sleepy Neighborhood wake up and take notice .

We had found a tree with very soft wood , somehow we got the idea this was a Balsa Tree , but Balsa trees are native to Mexico and this was the Northwest , but we named it a Balsa tree so a Balsa tree it was . With relative ease we could dig a hole in the tree then place the Firecracker in the tree . One of us would then light a match , which in turn would light the fuse , hiding behind foliage we would watch the carnage . The explosion would tear off huge chunks of tree , the Dense woods would muffle the sound of the explosion. This was very cool up to a point . The point was when even the biggest Fireworks failed to provide sufficient damage for our tastes . We tried ( unsuccessfully ) to bind two or more beefy firecrackers together ..but in variably one would explode before the others , this wasting the power and depriving us lurking behind failed logs the benefit of a massive boon.

At this point I believe it was me who had the idea of combining the Gunpowder from several Fire Crackers into one Larger Fire Cracker ..but we discovered that it wasn't as easy to get the power out of the firecracker as we thought . and to make matters worse we were running to of Fireworks . Rex had not brought enough back home ... to Rex's credit I don;t believe He was being selfish I don't t think any of us had any idea how many Fireworks it would take to bring down a 60 foot tree .

I then had the idea of using some of my fathers ammunition to make our own Fireworks . I considered asking my Father if I could use a box of shells. But decided He would get angry with me for asking so I decide it would be better to " borrow " some of His ammunition instead .

Some readers may have noticed the flaw in my reasoning ..Apparently I felt it would be much worse to ask my dad directly , than it would be for him to catch me stealing ammo.

Now the problem was how to do just that ...this wasn't going to be one crime it was essentially going to be several . Breaking into my parents Bedroom was a given ..but how to remove 12 Bullets from a box that contained 24 and make it look like nothing had happened was the real issue . Fortunatly even at this young age I was able to create a reasonable plan. I began by removing just one bullet .

I can't remember exactly how my thinking process was working at this point . I do remember trying to remove the bullet from the cartridge by using a pair of pliers , I also did not own pliers but my dad kept them safe in His tool box in the Garage where We wern't supposed to go ..but once you start on a life of crime there is no stopping you . The pliers didn't work ..neither did the Hack saw I also borrowed ,,I was smart enough to realize the heat from the Hack saw might have an adverse affect on the bullet so my friend Wheezy poured water over the Jacket as I sweated away , ( up until the Hacksaw moment rex had been with us , but suddenly He felt the need to go home ). The water worked ..too well and the powder was soaked . It was then I remembered my dads Shotgun , and more importantly the Shot gun Shells ...Another trip back into the bedroom ..this time in search of shotgun shells .. This idea might work after all !. The shotgun shells were much easer to dig into ..and after several trips to the Bedroom I had a pretty decent amount of Gun powder ..mixed in with a few stray pellets . I had decided to remove 10 of the 24 shells in the Box and I wisely removed only the ones in the middle .

Now I had Powder and needed something to put it in ..something that would be easy to pack and at the same time easy to ignite . My Brother had a Hop along Cassidy Six shooter he rarely used ..and I knew where he hid it to keep me from playing with it . I had an idea the cartridge from the bullet would easily fit in the barrel and if I sawed off the barrel We could pack the gun powder in the barrel . The tricky part would be to find a way of capping the end we stuffed the powder in and then still being able to attach a fuse .

 

 

I suspect I need to remain mute here ...things have changed and in no way am i going to even hint how we managed to put it all together . I do remember at one point as I was hammering the shell into the Barrel of Bobs now well used pistol that the bullet was still " live " . but I went easy with the ball peen hammer . in just a matter of hours Wheezy and I had a Hop along Cassidy Barrel Bomb and were eager to try it out in the woods ...we looked outside and it was dark ...there was only one thing left to do ...bury the evidence . Thinking quickly we buried behind the Pigeon Coop In the Vegetable garden . That night it was hard to sleep ...I was excited about the prospect of the test firing of our contraption. We had also hidden the bomb in the Tree Fort ,,it seemed unwise for me to take it in the House ...That night was pretty normal at one point Bob came out to inquire if anyone had seen His new Gun , mom Got on Him for losing His stuff ...He was always losing stuff ...

 

Fern Hill

.... Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

We are prisoners of time ..but Memory is a cousin of Eternity .

what follows is not chronologically correct , at least I don't believe i got it right after all these years . Its more or less a reasonably confluence of good guess work , written clues and well meaning Hyperbole . So please bear with me. As i slip loose the chains of time and free my Memory.

Those early years in Multnomah were very pleasant for me . School was definitely fun ..but it was the weekends and summer that held most of my interest .

While school developed with a pattern of predictability , it was the time away from School that was a buffet to feast upon .

School ended the First Week in June , just in time for the Rose Festival , we returned to School the day after Labor day . These three golden months were not all play ..both Bob and I had paper routes and we both worked in the nearby fields picking Strawberries , Beans and Blackcaps . But it seemed like the misery of work made the play all that more special .

There was unorganized play with our friends , and Organized play with our friends , there was play at home and play at night , there was Overnight outings at friends homes , and Friends over night with us . Trips to our cabins on the Coast . And family vacations .

These early years were filled with Firsts for me , My first job , my first fish , my first hunting trip, First trip out of state . First homemade bomb , first bicycle , first brush with Arson .

By the end of the Third Grade I was finding mobility , and direction for my life . The mobility was my new bike and the direction was usually down ...down was always good for biking the steeper hills turned my bike into a walking accessory .

Having a bike expanded my centre of impact from the Block ..to as far as Lee's House to the West and Hillsdale community to the East . The little town of Multtnomah was a frequent target of my wanderings .

There were sp many places that are dear to my heart / memory , each of them deserves some attention ..from the Coastal valleys , to the woods just around the corner each place was a teacher and I was a willing pupil ...

Making the Grade

 

 

.... IN a few short years many of the kids I hung with would exchange these home uniforms for a different uniform . They would leave this neighbourhood and travel to a far distant Neighbourhood .. One of our gang never returned . Many of those who did , returned wounded in body or spirit or both .

As we grew our boundaries widened . From our own small yards , to the Block we lived on , from the Block to the Neigborhood , Neighborhood to District , and district to City . From City to county and county to state and state to region and region to nation and from the nation to the world . As we matured so our world view matured ...Or so I thought .

The world I was growing up in was changing ...there were hints and portents of storms coming , but for the most part it was the Shire before Camelot , Camelot before Dallas and the Gulf of Tonkin .

Somehow in the mix of all this I found myself being moved along by the current of education ..passing from one grade to another ..each time ending up for a brief sojourn with a different teacher , each one unique , each one adding to my life .

I still remember their names ..Mrs Younger , Mrs Schoonover , Mrs Buchanon , Mrs Heller These ladies took me through First grade to Fourth .

Recently I found some of my report cards from these grade school years . THe First teacher Comment i got was from Mrs Younger It reads " Kenneth shows improvement in his work, and gets along well with others . The class has enjoyed his contributions ot he science shelf . Her is a bit quiet but he will probably overcame that with maturity. Nov. 13th 1953 . In those days we were graded on a C , S, and N scale C indicated commendation for special effort and attention . S was for Satisfactory progress consistant with ability. and N indicated need for more effort if progress is to be consistant with Ability.

That " ability " word was the moving target .

My first Grade report card was filled with S's With a possible 84 Grades I had 81 S's and 3 C 's :

Apparently I was not really living up to my " ability ". The last comment made by Mrs younger was " Kenneth has fewer difficulties with others " .

It was in Second grade I began to realize that Teaching is a Subjective Science , and if the Subject is kind to the teacher ..good things may follow . Mrs Schoonover liked me ...The report card from second grade is filled with C's and S's 19 C's ..Second grade was a very good year , the only negative comments were " Kenneth doesn't try to sing " and " His biggest problem is spelling "

Third grade : Mrs Buchannon ..I really don't remember much about her ..looking at my report card its obvious she was glad to see me leave. This was the first year I Got the dreaded N ..three of them . Looking over this report card I have to say I am confused ..I received N's for not being able to work independently and observing School rules . But I received C's for developing a variety of intersts , and contributing valuable information to the class , expressing my thoughts well orally , Expressing them well in witting , Reading with interest , aquiring reading skills , and taking part in discussions.

Mrs Buchannons comments on the Card : were not all that encouraging ..." he has been wasteful in doing worthwhile thngs while he has the time " Kenneth is not cooperating in some phases of our school program " " I would welcome a conference with you " The Last entry o the 3rd grade card was simply " Kenneth should do very well in the 4th grade "

I really don't know what was going on here ...I do know at this time I was reading a lot ..I had a lot to share , and I was bored with my assignments . It was during this grade i was encouraged to be in some advanced classes offered at the school ... I suspect it was as much of a personality clash as anything ...I also remember my parents not being very happy with Mrs Bucannon as well .

MY fourth Grade teacher was Mrs Hiller :

The new wrinkle in fourth grade was apparently I was not good at caring for school property ..a shadow of the infamous explosion in special science I guess : The C's and S's were starting to follow a ver predictable pattern , and my witting and spelling were still my most glaring defects . 4th grade was my most healthy year ..the Allergy shots were working and I was only absent for 7 days the entire school year . Contrast with being absent 33 days in first grade , 29 in second , and 25 in 3rd .

For many children this much absenteeism would have been devastating , but I had a secret weapon . MY Mother . Mom worked with me almost daily , using flash cards for Spelling , Math and even History . Between my mother , and my reading and conversations with my father and His friends I was receiving an education that really supplemented the one I was getting at school.

MY parents attended all of my " Conferences " usually together . They were also active in the PTA .

My Primary grades ended with 4th grade ... The final comment from Mrs Hiller seems somewhat cryptic to me ..." It has been a pleasure to work with Kenny , he has improved in so many areas , but please Kenny watch that language " .

Thinking about these four years of school I gt a sense that school was not the foundation of my early education it was rather the forum I expressed it . fair to say I may be thinking way to highly of myself , and have dramatically underestimated the impact of these wonderful teachers on my life , but those memories do seem to be repressed . They guided me some encouraged me ...they watched over me ...but other factors other teachers apart from School were definitely adding so much to my limited world view . The next few grades would bring into my life some key figures and important teachers .

 

 

Girdled for war ---the Great Raid

For several years the family slipped into a pleasant pattern. Some weeks our family would be staying a few miles inland from the Pacific ocean ...Fishing , hunting exploring the woods and hills . Back home I was enjoying the popularity of my neighborhood gang . This was a " gang " in the " Spanky" sense of gang . Most of the time we spent playing amongst ourselves . building forts in the woods , and in our backyards ..but every once in awhile we turned our attention to the encroachment of other neighborhood gangs on our terriritory..One of these times became the stuff of legend ..we referred to it in hushed tones as the " great raid .

. By any stretch of the imagination the raid had been a total success , we had destroyed the oppositions fort , turned over at least one lemonade stand and left the 35th street gang in a total state of disarray. This had come at little cost to us, Rex had ripped his pants , one of our bikes had a flat tire , my brother was lost , and worst of all I had lemonade stains on my mothers new Girdle. There was a chance I might get in trouble over that Girdle in the first place and the lemonade stains almost guaranteed it . The cost of our victory might be higher than I had planned to pay.It like so much and so many other its in my life began with a choice. In this case the choice was whether to borrow the Girdle or not to borrow the girdle. And this choice was a in fact a confluence of Choices going back well into the pastfew months before the raid..There was one area in our house that was supposed to be inviolate , a place of refuge and safety for my parents and this area was their bedroom. IT was an unwritten law that entering the bedroom without permision was a crime.Oddly it was this secrecy that pulled me into the downward spiral of guilt , remorse . On one hand the possibilty of being caught in this sanctuary was almost enough to keep me from gently pushing open the door . On the other hand there was much to discover in their room. It all started innocently at first , I needed gunpowder ...and my father stored his ammunition in the bedroom, I wasn't supposed to know that , but in a two bedroom house there aren't too many secrets. I needed the gunpowder for my science experiments , in this case I was experimenting with gunpowder. I had found that a little bit of Gunpowder could add a little extra kick to my homemade bombs. Latter I would find that gunpowder would also provide an extra kick to rocket fuel , but I am several years ahead of myself here. My father kept the ammunition in his dresser drawer which was right next to my mothers underwear drawer. Of course the first time I was pillaging the dresser I did not know about the underwear drawer nor did I have a really good foundational understanding of women's underwear, and that included my mother's..The first time I discovered the drawer , I was somewhat confused as to what I had found , there was something deep down inside of me , something unexplainable that this was not my fathers underwear ..and with only the two of them sharing this room I was made the connection that this must be my mothers ...there was some confusion after all these items were not made from sturdy cotton , they were silky and soft and ...well daintier ...and then I saw the girdle , I had no understanding of this device , at first I thought it was swim wear , but a careful look and I knew it was at best only half a swim wear . It was sturdy, it was white , it was quite long it looked to me like it would fit me and the pants leg part would almost extend to my knees. Somewhat confused I gently placed the girdle back into the drawer and plucked out a couple of shotgun shells from my fathers drawer .I preferred using the shotgun shells to the 30 06 shells he also had in his drawer . I learned form experience that it was easier to remove the gunpowder from the shotgun shells than from the metal jacketed rifle rounds ...you really know who your friends are when you ask them to hold a steel jacketed bullet in a pair of pliers as you try to use a hacksaw to open it up ....at one time I thought that if I heated the lead bullet part up with a stove top I could pry it loose easier , but it didn't work out the way I planned.I has kept the discovery of the girdle safely tucked into my brain ..and then when we started planning the great raid and I was looking for the perfect costume I retrieved the information form my mind and decided that the girdle was just what I was looking for ...taking my dads socks was more of an impulse and I had already used the idea of the towel for a cape . The swim cap and feather was Rex's Idea ...he thought it would look silly on him so he suggested I wear it , and thought he was foolish for not seeing the possibility.My plan was to wait for the right moment and slip into my parents bedroom , grab the girdle then run like all get out. I would change into my warrior uniform in the tree fort ...slid on a pair of jeans and slip away on my bike...for the most part the plan went well ...I was able to grab the girdle when my mother has walked to the store , changing was no problem , I ran into a little problem when I discovered my Bike was not going to make the trip , but when my brother rounded the corner with that " where are you going " look in his eye I decided to invite him into the gang ...At first Bob was somewhat skeptical , trust was always an issue with him , but I assured him he wasn't;t part of a science experiment. That he would be an important part of the foray , and the rope was definitely needed ...at one point he protested that since I was bigger I should pull the wagon , but I reminded him that I knew he had broken moms baking dish and I knew where he had buried it ...and he stopped protesting and let me lash him to the Wagon....A few blocks away we stopped so I could complete my costume and as I was putting the feather in the hat I heard some of the neighbor girls laughing ...I told them they shouldn't tease my brother like that then I gave a hearty giddy up and off we went ...cape flying in the wind and a blur of white girdle as we headed down 33rd street. we were a group of hard driven neighborhood kids ..Led by Rex and myself we were also accompanied by Mike squirrly Hukins, Norm stinky Simpkins, Andy one hand ( after an unfortunate accident with a pair of pliers and steel jacketed bullet , and Linda beefcake O'mally who for a short period in the 80's was the lead blocker for the San Francisco Bombers roller derby team. each of us had dressed in their best fighting clothes. rex was wearing his coonskin cap and genuine Hop Along Cassidy leather vest and chaps, Norm who was part Nez Peirce indian was wearing war paint ( actually lipstick and eyeliner ) , Andy still had his hand in a cast which he had dipped in black paint , and Linda was dressed like Peter Pan with a Baseball bat . Of note was Norms Bike which had half of a Antler set strapped to the handlebars . As we caravanned down Capital Highway we could easily see the looks of admiration and envy from the passing cars , and even a few noses pressed against the glass seemed to be weeping and convulsing as viewers seemed to instinctively understand the grand undertaking we were undertaking ...while I felt a little odd standing in a red wagon being pulled by my brother with a rope around his waist in mothers girdle I knew that most driving by would quickly see it was no girdle at all but the gilded armor of a dashing Greek warrior ...Anyone who had read the Iliad would instantly recognize the similarity. Later I learned that Zane Grey's book the Broken Spur was the most popular read in the Northwest.We traveled down Capital highway for two blocks then turned right on 35th street , enemy territory ...we had only peddled a few feet when we saw them gathered around the Karnes Kid's Lemonade stand ...they were surprised and terrified when they heard our shouts and screams Four of us were shouting my brother was screaming. Although to be fair our war shouts could have used some improvement. I had Asthma and when excited I wheezed better than I shouted , Rex had a lisp , Norm Stuttered and Linda hadn't decided on a good war cry so she just shouted Hey Ricky !!! ( she loved the I love Lucy Show ). My Brother was screaming because He couldn't swerve fast enough to avoid the lemonade stand. There are some images that don not fade away , they are etched , nay sculpted in to the matrix of the mysterious place where Memories are reside. Here the five of us dressed in our warrior garb , led by half naked chubby boy with lipstick and mascara smeared across his cheek , on a bike with half a deer head wired to the Handle bar , followed by a Greek warrior in his mothers girdle being pulled on a red wagon with his wide eyed brother lashed to it , several other s in distinguished gear following close behind , startled the 35th street gang scattered like watermelon Seeds at a Ghallager concert ....unprepared for this reaction my brother caught up in the moment and showing al the signs of a first time rookie , rushed forward and in the confusion I was thrown head first into the lemonade stand ...thank God for the Swimming cap ...I was soaked all over with fresh squeezed Lemonade ...I think it was the combination of the warm day and the sticky lemon drink but I could actually feel the girdle shrinking up and soon my " armor " undergarments were tight enough to kill my pet hamster and I was still in them ....the walk home was not as fun as I thought it might have been , I was walking because my brother had taken off ..and we were not sure where he went ...I was concerned about this because Bob still had the rope and it was my Dad's ...As I began the long walk home I was feeling a little discomfort , not only was the armor shrinking the wet lemonade was staring to chaff , by the time I got home I was walking bowlegged and with a definite hop ...

Easy as Falling off a Cliff

When I look back on the years between six and thirteen I have great difficulty squeezing it all in.In those seven years I have so many vivid memories. Our family going to the Drive Inn eating popcorn out of a brown sack that my mother had popped on the stove . We had a tree fort in the backyard that was the envy of our neighborhood that my father built, it was from this tree fort I first found that my brother would bounce at least twice if dropped from said tree fort .. I remember a green house on the vacant lot we owned and being told to stay away from it , and I remember Rex Riley and I sliding down the glass roof and dropping to the ground below each of us landing on a protruding nail butt first. Once I hit myself in the head with a brick while lecturing my friends about gravity This was before I realize it was easier to experiment with my brother. I have very fond memories of learning about the outdoors at two different cabins we spent time at on the Oregon Coast. I found out early that life can't all be fun , I had habits and I had to pay for them on my own, for awhile I received an allowance from my parents , but this allowance came with strings , I had to do chores , these chores got in the way of my new found freedom and were an insult to the growing Greek warrior that was consuming me . Washing Dishes was for sissy's I wanted man work. And I got it for several summers I joined up with dozens of other neighborhood children , who met very early in the mornings in front of the grade school grimly holding unto lunch boxes and canteens. We all had exchanged our allowance income and all of its strings and legalism for our own independence and real money earned by picking Strawberries and Beans and Blackcaps ...I became like many in our neighborhood a migrant worker. The work in the Fields was hard , the hours were long and the sanitary conditions were not very sanitary , but the rewards ! At the end of the day we were paid in cash ! Many of the kids who gathered at the school were the same ones my gang of Greek warriors had soundly smashed back in the day , and it was not unusual to have some defeated foe with tears in his eye ask meekly if I was the Girdle man ...All I can say is life was far less complex in those days. It must have been very difficult as well , for later as we grew up , we choose instead to allow other people to do this field work , then we ate the food they picked , and packed and stacked on our grocery shelves and told them they were not wanted in this country. there were several summers of Bean and strawberry picking , Newspaper route And the Cub Scouts. In school I was admitted to the Seventh and eight grade science class when I was in the fourth grade.the highlight of this association was putting a hand made rocket through the window of a National Guard Jeep. During these years my brother and I learned that Santa Clause wasn't real. The there was my first phone call to a girl , my first rejection, my first date , and my first Hospital procedure which came on the eve of my first date. Sometime in these seven years I found myself fancying myself as an outdoors man and took up fishing and hunting I still remember my first caught fish. And how clever I was to use my brother to drag my lure and line across a rain swollen creek so I didn't have to cast as far. There were family trips to Oklahoma , one or more to southern California ...Going to Sunday school . During this period I got my first suit and my first cowboy outfit , and thought I often got when to wear them Mixed up was able to always dress myself quite well. Wearing a cowboy outfit to Sunday school with six shooters plastered at your hip might have raised a few eyebrows in the 50's but I was simply way ahead of our times. Our Sunday School class was taught by a man who had a boat so I learned to water ski even thought it did take me longer to learn to let loose of the tow rope when your skies fall off.One of the truly great stories and high point of my my life was watching my brother fall like a watermelon over a cliff only to be stopped at the last minute by my father. while I am being somewhat brief in these recollections this requires ( demands ) some more explanation. The place was Ecola state Park near Canon Beach Oregon. This Headland area has broad picnic areas that drop steeply to a series of rocky pools that are filled with salt water fish, we had been told how good the fishing was so we set out to claim our share of the bounty of the sea. MY brother who had little regard for style was dressed in well used jeans and these thick clumsy looking shoes with reinforced steel cleats on the heel and toe. I was dressed more stylishly in white calypso pants , yellow rubber thongs. I Honestly don't remember much about the going down the cliff part , I know the slope was steep , and the fishing was not as great as it was advertised , my brother and father had not planned as well as I had and each had only one fishing pole and a small tackle box between them, I was much better prepared bringing two poles three reels and a sturdy tackle box about the size of a steamer truck. and a bucket to bring the freshly caught fish back home in. It was a wonderful day ..with only a few offhand comments from my Father after he had made the extra trip back up the cliff to bring me the rest of my equipment. My Brother had been smart enough to bring my tackle box with him on the first trip. I had found the trek a little difficult with my choice of foot gear but with my father carrying me part of the way all was ok. Like I said the day was wonderful , my father seemed to be not enjoying it as much as me , but I was guessing it was only because he was thinking about returning to work the next day, and he was a little bruised by my spare fishing pole that had fallen from my grasp and landed on his foot. Soon it was time to head back Bob started off first , I reluctantly agreed to carry his fishing pole as he lugged the steamer trunk up the cliff . I found his attitude to be a little annoying as I also had the empty fish bucket to contend with and my flip flops had suffered a separation fo the toe thingy and they were more flopping than flipping. The climb up the cliff was not going well at all ...I was having trouble with my footgear and my bare knees were brushing against the volcanic rock and boithering me some. MY father who was very gracious choose to help me as best he could and at one point I was holding on for dear life to the end of the metal pole I had brought and Dad was holding onto the other end , beneath me was the foamy waters of the pacific ocean about fifty to an hundred feet down we must have looked a little odd two people in the Chaos of life embracing the gentle curve of the cliff , My father holding onto a sturdy tree root in one hand , his other hand grasping a fishing pole which had attached to the other end his precious older son with hsi sparkling white calypso pants and his flopping flip flops, I was determined to hang onto the fishing pole al thought at one point I thought the Bucket might keep me afloat if I fell into the ocean. Then it happened ...slowly at first there was a little trickle of dirt and gravel from above , probably a seagull had dislodged it , then more and larger pieces of debris started falling our way ..I distinctly remember my father shouting gently to my brother to knock it off or he would beat him mercilessly , Dad did seem to be a little grumpy at this point. Then the Steamer trunk sailed past us ..I didn't have enough time to watch it hit the water because it was followed by my brother sliding down the cliff butt down and this rather odd quizzical expression on his face , one I had only seen once before when I dropped him out of the tree house, this time I was watching this expression from below and it was even more dramatic. This is one of those times when time does stand still , I am sure I could see my father weighing his options on one end of the fishing pole was his first child , the child who had burned down the forest , tried to burn down the grade school , the child who had failed to pay attention , who had stole a jar of pickled shrimp from Mr Colemans Grocery Store and hidden it in his Paper bag, all this and more , from above came hurtling the younger child who showed great promise in school , who had been injured once before in a fall from a tree fort and who had stayed home and raked leaves , and stacked wood and washed dishes ...two children one choice and with amazing reflexes my father while still holding onto me reached out with his only free appendage his left leg and stopped my brother in mid tumble , my brothers steel jacketed shoes dug into my fathers leg but the leg did not give and for a brief moment all three of us were firmly fixed to the side of the cliff all staring at each other , then with out even a word my brother turned and raced back up the cliff barely touching the earth ...a few minutes later we all gathered at the top, we were sworn to secrecy , my mother would never know about this. at least not for a few days.
This is how I remember it , I have to admit the story grows some each time I tell it , but it happened pretty much as written, we were held by angels on that day , a few inches made all the difference between a famous family story that would be told at reunions and late night conversations , and a moment of tragedy that would haunt the survivors forever.

Aftershocks and Memories

Our house was on the corner of 32 and Miles. I used to think of this as the command center for the block. The block was defined by Miles Street to the North , 32 street to the East , 33 street to the West , and Capitol Highway to the South. the local Grocery Store was two blocks away, to the right and to the left was the dark and mysterious forest we called the woods. In fairness the woods were actually an undeveloped sliver of land about two blocks square , until I burned down a portion of it with a homemade bomb.
On the North Corner of 33rd and Miles was the home of Rex Riley , my childhood playmate and the only person I have ever wounded with a knife. Across the Southern Boundary was Multnomah Grade School , which boasted four separated classrooms two of which were used for Kindergarten , the other two for some sort of Cold War intelligence gathering ( or so we thought ), a large paved area used as a play ground for the kindergarten. The upper school had an auditorium which coupled as the school cafeteria , so that when you went to the annual Christmas Play you could still easily smell the heady aroma of mac and cheese in the air. There was a Gym large enough to have a trampoline , and a basket ball court where we would also play dodge ball , and learn about the mysteries of life. IN fact it was in this very gym that several of us younger boys learned that not all was what it seemed...for several months we had noticed that one of the eight grade girls had been not only been growing up , but out as well , the out part was what had got our attention , and it appeared the envy of some of the other older girls as well ...that is until the poor girl was hit full in the chest by a hard driven dodge ball by _______ and the entire gym seemed to come to a standstill as her chest deflated with an audible whoosh and she ran crying out of the gym. In an instant her life had changed , no more dreams of High School beauty pageants and homecoming courts , she became an source of jokes and ridicule , the story grew each year until at one point I heard a version of it where the concussion of the escaping air from her brassiere was enough to knock over Mrs Hannah the third grade teacher who needed a cane to get around. Nature abhor es a vacuum and in she was replaced in the hierarchy of adoration by ________ who was much more natural , yet still nicely curved .
Where was I ? Oh yes Multnomah Grade School had sixteen classrooms , until my seventh grade year then fifteen usable ones after the unfortunate incident with the Bunson burner and Turpentine that seemed to have something to do with me.
Directly across the street from the school were three buildings on the right was the Masonic Temple , On the corner of 33rd street and Capital Highway was Verdemum Oil , the local gas station and fuel oil storage for the neighborhood , there were usually three of four service station attendants and mechanics out an about at this location all dressed in green coveralls , after the small disasters in the woods and the fire at the school a large fence was built around the Oil Storage Facility , and several armed guards were added ...I also was asked to no longer walk past the facility but I believe that was an overreaction.
There were two other areas nearby that figured into these growing years one was directly north of our house propped on top of the hill we lived on , and that was the air raid tower, at least once a week we were reminded of the ever present danger of the Communist aggression and were sent diving for cover under our school desks as the long and mournful horn from the tower would cover our playground with the sound of doom , the other area was west of that a new housing development that let me shave several minutes off my paper route until I was denied access to the area after building a small dam , which backed up and almost destroyed a house and its foundation.
This then was the area I grew up in in West Portland. It was the neighborhood and it was a place dear to my heart. In time my parents would move a new home unto the vacant lot next to our home on the corner ( 7415 SW 32 ) , I would enter High School from that house and I would be living there until my first marriage , my father would die in the house , after a short struggle with lung cancer , and my mother would live alone there for About twenty years , never getting over his passing, After dad died the house got darker , often the joy of my childhood seemed far away , and moms sadness and depression evident through her struggles against it made it more and more difficult to visit ..little did I realize then that I was also contributing to this cycle of despair by my reluctance to confront it. I had no way to comfort my mother , and in my frustration I drew away from her , I had no way to comfort myself with the loss of my Father so I looked for distractions where I could find them , it was like I had no currency to pay the piper his due. I had chased the dog laughing and teasing and pulling on his tail and the dog had inexpiably bit me ...and I confess there was a time when this magical block , this land of my sojourn , the neighborhood I grew up in was ignored , and shoved out of my busy life , all that had given so much to me was ignored and forsaken I had put those pieces of the puzzel away.
Mom moved to Spokane as she neared the end of her life , though we did not know it was the end ...I still go by the house on the corner of 32nd and miles when I am in the area , and when I do I often sit quietly in front of the house , think of those years of running green in the sun , think of two wonderful and loving parents who gave so much in service to their children...my jaw gets tight , and it starts to ache and tears will invariably flow ..so much past , so much lost , so many thank you's un thanked , so much unappreciated in the headlong rush to being a grown up.

Something to Sneeze at

Too Young to be Needled !!!!

Guessing , I would say I began to develop a neighbourhood conscience and a tentative world view when I was about 7 years old . We had a TV set , and a radio and I was aware of news not only from our area of the worlds but also from the world . As is the case with all of us things were happening around me that would in latter years shape me , but I was unaware of them as were most of the people living at that time as well .

1954 was the year of that Segregation was declared unconstitutional in the Brown Vs Board of education decision at the Supreme Court . There was an un going witch Hunt for Communists , Homes had just topped an average of $10,000 ...Gas was $.29 cents a gallon .

Across the world the French were waging ware in an obscure place called Viet Nam ... On the waterfront was the years Big Academy winner , but as a Family we went to the Drive in and saw the Long Long Trailor with Desi Arnez and Lucille Ball.

On TV I was watching Howdy Doody and a local show called Mr Moon . For the most part TV was only used if it was really rainy outside , ( we were required to play in the rain unless it reached full monsoon status .). Bedtime was 9 o'clock ..more or less .

MY first friend in our block was rex Riley , rex and His mother had moved to Oregon from Missouri. Rex Lived with His mother who in turn lived with Her Sister and Her Sisters Husband and their son . Rex 's house was a small one on the corner of miles and 33rd street ...He and His mother shared a room ..Looking back it seems somewhat crowed and cramped ...but at the time I thought nothing of it , nor did it ever occur to me to ask Rex where his father was ... we remaned Neighbors through High School , but after grade school I rarely saw Him . I believe the last time I saw rex was in 1990 when I ran into him in Sisters Oregon. He had gained some weight , was married ...and older.

During our glory years Rex and I explored the woods together , rode our bikes for miles in the southwest hills , slept out under the stars , and in our tree fort , we went swimming together , picked blackberries , Strawberries, and Beans together . It puzzles me I never took he time to know Him better . but perhaps I knew him as I supposed to , a child hood friend , a sojourner on a childhood journey that began in a very small corner of the world called the neighborhood , and ended as a foggy morning , evaporates into the brilliant stab of sunlight on a grassy meadow .

Most of our play was adversarial , cops and robbers , Cowboys and Indians , Americans and others . We played mumbly peg once and I accidentally stuck a knife in his leg . I was somewhat angry and bemused when he insisted that we tell his mother , and subsequently was taken to the doctor for a tetnus shot . Telling his mother of course meant telling my parents and they were not as bemused as I was about the incident.

I really don't know what the deal was about tetanus shots was in those days ..I had heard rumours of Lock Jaw , but had never seen an visible evidence of it actually ever happening , likewise I had never seen a chigger , boogyman , or a full fledged communist either. Life in the Southwest Hills was somewhat isolated . By the time we were in fifth grade we were allowed almost full range over several miles of roads . lanes and islands of undeveloped woods and forests , we watch these areas slowly disappear , ans more and more houses were built . The movement of people into the Hills became so popular that a free way was needed to transport them , our Grade school was enlarged , and in the area a new one was built ...

It was also during this time that my parents noticed I was having some difficulty breathing , and I was frequently sneezing and coughing especially during the spring...Soon I was visiting a battery of doctors who were all eagerly waiting to poke ,prod and prick me ...This I believe was the beginning of my bad altitude about the Medical profession . After a period that I referred to as the "Exquisite Time of Torture and Humiliation" ..I was diagnosed with Asthma and Hay fever . it turned out i was allergic to the planet Earth ..space travel was still a fantasy then so there was little I could do about it , except take as series of shots ..Rather than easing into it by taking say one shot every decade , I was immediately put on a schedule that included two shots in each arm twice a week . To add indignity to pain , I actually had to walk to the doctors office often by myself ..a distance of over a mile and a half , past three vicious dogs , the Butte brothers , and at least one well manicured lawn that begged me to ignore the do not walk on the grass sign . I would enter the Lobby of the clinic , announce my presence sit , down and thumb through a field and stream magazine or a National Geographic ...soon a plucky nurse with rubber gloves up to her arm pit and scowl on her face like she had just bit into a sour lemon would call my name..she would lead me gently by dragging both feet through the door ..into another room where i would be locked inside ..until a bespectacled doctor would enter make some vague comments about my improvement , and then remove himself as the sour faced nurse would enter with a tray on which were four needles attached to syringes ..the needles were easily the size of a small Javelin andthe syringes about the size of a small firecracker , an incongruity that never ceased to amaze me . The nurse would then apply alcohol to the skin ...and with a effort worthy of a veteran Harpooner   for a Nova Scotia whaler , plunge the needle into me ..this procedure was repeated three more times ..and I was left dazed and wounded in the room for a period of 30 minutes ..this was to see if the injection was to have any serious side affects , other than the obvious pain , bruising , numbness and frequent need to urinate in a hurry that i experienced on a usual basis. Then if the lumps on my arm were less than a good sized cantaloupe I was allowed to walk myself home , past the ( now four ) visious dogs the sneers of the Butte Brothers , and the glare of the elderly lady whose Lawn I had transgressed in. All the while I was walking home I kept thinking maybe Lock Jaw was a better way to go .
Yet as I said it was during this time that my world view started to expand , and I can thank National Geographic for that !

Achoo !!!

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 I love Theater ..and the part I Love so much about Theater is being able to explore the genesis of peoples intentions...Good plays are written in such a way that you see the frequent parade of intention , obstacle and resolution in a Characters life . Like a Photograph a play will " freeze " the important moments in a life . It is then up to the actor playing the part to find these moments , we called them beats , and use them to propel the play forward. Intentions my change , obstacles may change , and the resolution may change ...

I am hoping that when we enter Heaven we will get an opportunity to see our Lifes play ...I have lived it , but in the living I did a pretty poor job of studying ..I know I I had my fair share of intentions , and I know likewise I had a significant number of obstacles ...but I can't remember all the resolutions I employed to navigate the Obstacles.

If I was to point to a " unifying " intention , it would be the intention to be considerate Significant . Frequently my obstacle to this was my own behavior ...and as ironic as it may seem my solution to this obstacle was to lean on my own bad behavior as a solution for itself.

That is why one day as I was driving down a long and lonely Highway with nothing more than a Christian Radio Station for comfort , I heard the voice on the other end of the speaker say ..." the good I know I should do I do , and the bad I know I should not do I do " I pulled over to the side of the road and just sat there ...knowing these words were spoken directly to me ...

Thinking about my trips to the doctors office , I kinda suspect that it was those National Geographic's and those Field And stream magazines that first kindled in me some choices in my behaviour ...Sitting in the Lobby preparing for the needles I was left hanging in the balance between choosing to be a professional fisherman , or a intrepid Adventurer. I found the photos and stories about distant civilazions to be compelling and addictive ...but I Knew where i could go to catch fish and it wasn't that far way ...for a long time I balance these two desires , always giving into the one i could satisfy ...

I remember those days where I was unable to go outside and play , I would surround myself with piles of books and magazines , I read voraciously , Fiction , and Non fiction ..I read just about everything I could get my hands on . I remember in third grade we had a contest to see how many books we could read in a month and when I submitted over 60 book reports my Teacher Mrs Hanna got really skeptical. I was tested for reading speed and comprehension I don't remember the exact results ..but if memory serves me right it was over 2000 WPM with better than 80 % Comprehension .

I also think I learned at a pretty early age just how to do well on those sorts of tests. But the reality was that my parents encouraged me to read , and I took a lot of pleasure out of reading far above my grade school level .

If my intention in life had been to be considered significant , the obstacle became , at what ? Like most young boys I wanted to be significant in Sports ...but the asthma and hay fever put a damper on that ...it became apparent at a pretty early age I was not going to be a large kid ...I was fast but skinny . I was in Little leauge baseball , and I did pretty well there , my favorite position was catcher or Third base ..I wasn't a power hitter , but I got on base a lot ... My father coached the team I was on ...we were the Verdemon OIl team , named for the Gas Station and fuel Oil company at the bottom of the Hill we lived on.

Later in High School I would play some football and my dad even convinced me to try out for the wrestling team but I never had much passion for either as Organized sports .

Because of my reading ...I found my significance in being the smart kid in the school , and later the smart Aleck ...I could dazzle my peers and my teachers with my vast knowledge of all things ..but I had no pasion for that either ....mostly I just wanted to make them laugh ...I felt uncomfortable being the smart kid ..and for the most part tried to keep that part of me hidden ...with very little success. When I was in Third Grade I was " signed " up for a trial special language program and started Learning to speak German ...

My Parents who thought that meeting our neighbors who had actually escaped from Germany when Russia defeated Germany during World war 2 would help me learn to speak German better ...it didn't but what it did do is send me off to the library reading every book I could find on Nazi Germany and the Holocaust ...Then at some point I became fascinated by Science and German inventiveness ...and started reading every book I could find on Science ....when I was in the fifth grade I was invited into the Seventh and Eight grade special Science class ... with in a relatively few years I was developing an interesting Habit ...I would persue knowledge and education on just about any subject and then just as As I was dully immersed in ot I would find something to distract me and I would be off on another learning adventure ...This to say I never finished anything ..but I sure had a lot of projects started ....

I wish I had the benefit of a " script " to look at just to see all these " beats " in my life ...but I don't I Guess in part that is why I am working on this project ...and praying fervently that I will not let this one slip by the wayside ...