Easy as Falling off a Cliff

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

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

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 !!!

Good fruit

 Reprint from 2008

Good fruit

James 3:17
But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.

I was thinking just recently that while studying the Bible and reading commentaries about the Scripture could hardly be called a waste of time ...It just might be if that reading , study and class time does not bear good fruit.

Once I heard a person say " they know the Bible by heart , but they do not know the heart of it ". That still makes sense to me. If our teaching and reading leads us to hurting or harming others , if it leads us to being a poor witness to the Lord ...then perhaps we should put up the Bible and reach for a comic book .

This world is filled with the Mercies of the Lord , He pours out His love on all humankind, and we are encouraged to share that love with others ...not just friends and family but with those that despise us , those that hate us , those that would raise their hands against us.

If we can trust in the Lord to provide so generously for us ...then we can trust Him when we do His bidding.
When Jesus said Love your enemy I am pretty sure he didn't mean drop cluster bombs on them

A day in the Life .. Lee Part 1

A day in the Life .. Lee Part 1

 

 

 

 

So far it has been easy to ask for a day to remember ...the mornings were pretty much the same .... This day is Friday May 7th 1955 . Six years old and rushing toward 7 . I am in Second Grade , Mrs Schoonovers class .. walking down the Hill toward School I caught up with my friend rex riley . We exchanged pleasantries , which consisted of a series of short grunts and complaints about the block long walk .

There was a distinct scent of fir in the air and most of the Houses to our right and left were showing off the new spring blossoms . Bright pink tulips , red Rhododendrons being the most conspicuous . The monkey tree next to Bob Chadburns house always caught my attention ..in the distance the School was easily visible , with better vision I might be able to even see my desk .

It had been raining , the crossing guards ( seventh and Eight grade boys and girls ) were in their Yellow raincoats ..the flags with the glossy White staffs and Red Banners waved in the wind .

Turning around looking back up the Hill I could see small groups of Kids my age and older ..behind us . Some laughter , some light conversation .

We passed by Verdumun Oil ..A gas station and Oil Supply depot on the corner of 33rd street and Capital Highway ...latter I would play for the Little leauge team supported by this Buiness . Outside milloing around int he yard where the Oli truck would be parked were several men in overalls getting ready to go to work ..the smell of oil and gasoline over powering the faint scent of trees and flowers .

Capital Highway is a major road in the area ..running past Multnomah Grade school , and forming the downtown core of Multnomah , now called Multnomah village . Capital Higway was one of the first parts of the larger Capital Highway road system that at one time ran from Pendletlon Oregon through Portland turned south and continued to the Oregon Border with California

Crossing Capital Highway I turned to the right ..my School room was two doors up on the left side of the Hallway . Four doors away from the Principals office .

Before going into the room I stopped and spent some time with Rex outside on the play ground . We had a nice place to play ...A monkey bar set , one of those long horizontal ladders , to hang from , some marked out hop scotch areas and three vertical poles with attached Balls ..thether balls .

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Tetherball is a North American game for two opposing players. The equipment consists of a stationary metal pole, from which is hung a volleyball from a rope, or tether. The two players stand on opposite sides of the pole. Each player tries to hit the ball one way; one clockwise, and one counter (anti-) clockwise. The game ends when one player manages to wind the ball all the way around the pole so that it is stopped by the rope. It must not bounce .

 

 

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IN a few short hours this game would play a significant role in my life but at this moment the ball just hung there lightly bouncing against the wind . The School Bell would ring Three times , we had an early Bell announcing the opening of school , a second Bell alerted us there were five minutes left on the playground and the final bell ..was ..the final Bell . I waited for the second bell before making my way to my desk .. In second grade we were poised on the promise of having our very own desks the next year , but in Second grade we still shared a desk ..usually there were four of us gathered around the desk ...We sat where Mrs Schoonover decided it was best for us to sit ... We began the day with the Flag salute . I Pledge Allegience to the flag , one nation under God , indivisible with Liberty and Justice for ALL . I don't remember a school prayer . The God part made sense to me ...I didn't know much about Him , but something inside knew there must be a God , and in 2nd Grade I guess I just assumed that Liberty and Justices would be for all ..I had no reason to suspect otherwise .

For the next few Hours I have no real memory of what was going on , one reason of course for wishing to relive this day . I Know there must have been laughter , outright laughter , muted laughter , restricted laughter , under you breath laughter , eyes dancing but lips closed kinda of laughter as well . I don't remember very much about Mrs Schoonover . I Belive she was older , with white hair and thin. My report cards from her , show an eerie similarity to report cards from future years ...My positive subjects were , Science , Math , reading , and History ...Spelling was among my werst . IN the " deportment " area I seemed to have issues with Focus , Being quiet , and respecting Authority . ..

On this day ... morning recess would change my life .. This morning ( or arguably one very much like it ) I would meet my life long best friend Lee ...

 

 

We would meet in a game of tetherball ...why Lee , why Tetherball , why the life long connection ?

I really don't know I do know it happened , we happened ...its been a wild ride , filled with fun , strangeness , anger , parting and renewal ...for the past 60 years we have been " friends " . One of us will probably bury the other ... one of us will be left wit precious memories running from the 50's to ..well whenever .

I so wish I could remember more about that day Lee and I met ...nad the subsequent days that must have followed . Lee did not live in my area , we didn't have access to phone as we do now ..our friendship must have begun at school ..but how it grew past the confines of school puzzle me ...

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I have been really enjoying digging back into my childhood , Today I had a chance to call Lee and talk to him about some of what I was trying to remember . He told me that in addition to the Monkey bars and Jungle Gym we also had a swing set and a merry go round on the Playground . I also found out from Him we Had the same 3rd grade teacher ..which helps explain how we continued our friendship .

As I drive about town , and see Children at play I am reminded of my own childhood . which of these children will be making life long friends ? Which will become the leaders of tomorrow , and which will struggle ? Most of all what can I do to sew into the lives of those coming behind me ?

A singular thought keeps recurring . when I went home my Mother was there ..the door was open and in the kitchen the smell of fresh cupcakes wandered through the house ... The kitchen table , with a plate of treats and a cup of Kool Aid ..was a pleasant place to dive into our homework , or explore a book . Seems to me that Parents are too busy in part these days ...our economic System and our desire for more stuff pushes families apart ...How can we encourage parents to sepdn more time at home , rather than less ...either the Husband or the wife , but someone waiting at the door ...

 

 

Musings from the Daily Llama

Is it possible that early Christians Leftists hacked Jesus sermons ? That what he really said was ..don't worry about your neighbors ? that you have plenty of problems to worry about yourself ? My father gives you stuff ..so don't second guess His motives and give it to others ? People get what they deserve ..if they are poor its because they havn't worked hard enough , if they are sick its because they have ignored good medical hygiene ...you my brothers are not to worry about the needs of others ...thats not your job , you Job is to store up treasures on earth ,and I will send a heavenly UHaul truck to collect your stuff when you pass , because in my Fathers house there are many storage sheds ? This is the real gosple ..its been perverted by those bleeding hearts , and those guilty of the " love " hearesy .

Growing up with Leave it to Beaver

Growing up with Leave it to Beaver

Multnomah was interesting , there was small " downtown " area that has pretty much remained unchanged ... it was from this area that I believe I developed a sense of " community " . Most of what we needed was very accessible , there were two Grocery stores within walking distance , a drug store , camera store , hardware , a library , the School I went too ( K -8th grade ) was one block way ... As I grew up I knew most of the people living on the bock ..especially those with kids .

One of my first Memories of Multnomah was going out with my parents to see a movie at the Multnomah Theatre . The movie was called " Bend of the river " staring Jimmy Stewart , the movie was a popular western and was filmed in the area around Mt. Hood only a few miles away .

Shortly after we saw the movie the Theatre burned down in a suspected arson fire and never reopened . After that the closest indoor Movie house was in Sellwood and often we would go there on Saturdays , and be left off for hours . We did have a few Drive ins Nearby ..and as a family we would often pile in the car , and go to the Drive in on Friday or Saturday night .

Mom would pop a Huge bag of popcorn , filled the car with blankets and pillows and make a Jug of Kool-aid for these trips . We would usually arrive at the Drive in early enough for Bob and I to enjoy the playground as the light dwindled ..then a few moments of Spotlight tag ...and the Movies would begin to roll . We rarely made it through the last feature , giving my Mother and father some well deserved rest . we would come home and my Brother and I would stumble into our beds ..I can even remember watching my father carry my brother into the Bedroom too far gone to walk .

My " take away " from these early years was all pleasant memories , even my misadventures and subsequent disciplinary action are good and pleasant Memories . My Childhood was not the stuff of great epic novels ...torn between the forces of good and evil , contending with adverse situations and prevailing . Instead it was quite the opposite , living in a place that had so much to offer , and squandering the offerings ...with reckless abandon. As I grew older I would realize just how precious how wonderful this childhood time of mine was ...but as I was living it ...I Never realized how special it was . I did not form these years , I had little ( read none ) impact on the current events , the backdrop of the 50's I Grew up in ...I did not make them , but they were " making me " In even later years i have begun to see where even then God was walking along side of me ...building me from circumstances that surrounded me ... From Air raid sirens , to Leave it to Beaver , the community , the culture , the parenting I received all formed me ....Kinda fun seeing where all those pieces came from ..and how they fit .

If I could have a wish come true I would love to revisit a day back then ( Our town fashion ) . I would choose an ordinary day . Perhaps a Friday .....My Brother and I sitting down at the Breakfast table ..staring into a bowl of oatmeal ..my Mother ironing behind us ...keeping a watchful eye on the clock above the refrigerator . My father would be long gone , in the sink I would see his breakfast plate with a splotch of egg yolk and few crumbs of potatoes . The smell of bacon would be still lingering as would be the acrid smell of his morning cigarette . I would try to find something to provoke my Brother into getting into trouble ...A few bites of the gruel , round up my books . We didn't have backpacks then ..we carried our books to school stacked largest to smallest . so that they would fit neatly tucked under our arms . I read a lot in those days ...It didn't take either Bob or I long to run through all the books in the Multnomah Library ..we had to wait until 1957 for the much larger Hillsdale Public Library to open . With books and notebook safely secured I would dash out the door , usually leaving my Brother behind ..He had his own group of friends to walk with ...I might wait for a few minutes to see who might be heading down the hill , but usually just caught up with someone I knew who was out ahead of me . The morning walk was not as socially important as the return trip , you trudged with whom you trudged with at that Early hour . Our home was about a block from Multnomah Grade School ..I could either go out the front door and turn right ...or Out the back door and turn left then another left . Both routes had opportunities for me ....  I do not know very much at all about my Mother and fathers Courtship . I do know that as were growing up , there were very few signs of Public affection between them , A hug and a kiss when dad came home from work , an occasional hug was as much as would see . I Knew some how instinctively that they loved each other , and loved each other deeply . Dad had no interests in other women , and Mother had only one man in her life ..when my father passed in 1974 , my mother never remarried , she missed him deeply for the next 26 years ..she never indicated to me she wanted to remarry , John , or Johnny as she called him was her one true love .

Dad was the visible one in our family , out front , the joker , the kidder , the one most inclined to be the life of the party . Mom was more than content to be by his side , a smirk followed by a smile an occasional right Jab when needed.

Once married Mom never worked outside the home , inside the home she was tireless. laundry , cleaning , cooking , gardening , shopping , help with homework and tutoring . Laundry was the real chore , we had an Agitator style washer in those early years , Mom hung the clothes out to dry either outside on the sunny days or in the basement during the rain.

Outside we had a impressive vegetable garden .Mom loved cucumbers and tomatoes , Compost from shredded trees my father cut down for Portland general electric , and fresh manure from Alpennrose dairy, provided necessary nutrition to the soil . We also had onions, radish , and green peppers . Salads were a big hit in our home. Most of our meals had meat involved , we had very little fish with the exception of smelt and the occasional Salmon, Meat was usually venison or Elk , my dad was a very good hunter in season and out . My mother would slice and fry potatoes to go with the meal , occasionally they would be boiled and mashed. Desert was either some baked goods or Jello, we ate a lot of Jello in those days . Plain , with fruit and with carrots . After dinner it was time for homework .

MY mother barely made it out of grade school , yet she had a great deal of respect for education . Some of my earliest memories are of her holding " flash " cards in front of us encouraging us with Math and sentence structure. She enjoyed Soap operas on TV her favourite was as the World turns ...she loved that show , but would gladly give it up for me when I stayed home sick from school so I could watch our miss brooks , or the Gail Storm show , often we would sit ont he couch and watch Perry mason together . and at night after Dad had gone to bed we would sit under a blanket on the couch eating stove top popcorn and watching Armchair Theater.


'Food shopping was family affair all four of us would pile int he care and we would go to the Fred Meyer store in Burlingame . a suburb of Portland . There Bob and i would be left in front of the Comic Book stand , where we would ravenously read the latest DC and Marvel comics ,then Dad and mom would appear with these plastic numbers in their hands , we would go out to the car fix them unto the windshield then drive the car to the Store where , young men would place our Groceries in the car .

Clothes shopping was Mom , Bob and me . Mom did not drive a car , she never leaned that art and show very little interest in doing so . There were no clothing stores in the suburbs , we had to go downtown , which meant taking a bus . Public Transportation was very good in Portland those days . so Good I took it for granted . We would head off ot down town where we would end up at the trail ways bus station just a few blocks from our prime destination Meirer and Frank Department store . Staring on the fist floor then up to the fourth floor in an Elevator with a uniformed Elevator man handling the buttons . then a decent into the lower regions of the Department store and the " bargain " basement where we spent most of our time and money . Sometimes we would get separated , but we always knew to meet on the first floor by the Clock. the rallying point for scores of separated children from their parents which also happened to be adjacent to the candy Department

The First Floor of the Department store had a hardwood floor , the wood seemed to soak up the smells from the Candy department in the corner ,Popcorn ,Carmel Corn , fresh roast nuts , sweets and chocolates all available by the pound ...As tempting as these were , we would usually leave the store ..and cross to the Kress store across the street , where the candy and confections were cheaper.
Tired and foot sore we would all walk back up the bus station and take one of three buses headed back into our neighborhood hoping for the Capital Highway bus which would deposit us a mere two blocks from our home ...the Garden Home Metzger bus would leave us in downtown Multnomah a another Portland Suburb about 5 blocks from our home.
Kindergarten When we arrived home we had either fresh baked cookies or cupcakes waiting for us . For a few hours we would play in the yard or in our room during the occasional wet Northwest weather. In a very short period of time after we arrived home the scent of fresh backed goods would be overcome by the stronger smells of meat frying in the cast Iron pots and Potatoes frying next to them . Time for Dad to come home