Saddle Sore

In 1972, or thereabouts, I was  working with a woman named Rose and we became good friends. In fact, later, we became lovers, but  that's another story. As we worked together day after day we got to know each other and when I found out she owned horses I knew that I wanted to become very good friends. I love to ride horses and, even though my  cousin had a horse, I never got to ride it. My aunt was  not a nice woman and she would not let me ride because I was overweight and she said I  was too heavy for the horse. Now I was only about 75 lbs. over weight. This was when I was 11 or 12, so I was about 185. A horse can carry 185 with no trouble, she was just a bitch. I really shouldn't say that about my aunt but it's true. So I never got to ride when we would go to my cousins house.

But I was planning to become friends and hopefully I would get to ride Rose's horses. Well we did  become friends and Rose finally invited me out to where she kept her horses. They had a barn and tack room combined together. They had all the stuff to feed and take care of the horses. Rose had 5 black and white pinto horses. She also had 3 daughters and a granddaughter. She was the nicest person I had met in a long time. She was also a generous person. She would always invite me to dinner at her house after riding even though she had her husband and her 3 girls to feed. They didn't have a lot of money but they would be generous enough to invite  me to dinner.

I remember the first time I went riding with Rose and her girls. It was a Saturday afternoon. I arrived before Rose and the girls. When they showed up, we went out to the pasture to catch the horses for riding. The horse that I was going to ride was named Chief. He was the biggest horse and since I was a big man, I needed a large horse to hold me. So Chief it was.

After running Chief down and getting a halter on him I brought him back to the barn and gave him some grain and started brushing him before saddling him. As I got him saddled  Rose asked me if I knew how to tighten up his cinch after you first put it on. Horses know how to expand their lungs when you put a saddle on them and then after you have them ready to go they exhale and the cinch strap would loosen and when you step in the stirrup the saddle will slip and you cannot get up in the saddle. So to tighten up the saddle you have to knee the horse in the rip cage and when you do, the horse will exhale and you yank up on the cinch strap and tighten it and the horse can't do anything about it. It's pretty easy it's just that you have to hit the right spot and hit it with just the right amount of pressure.You don't want to hurt them, you just want them to exhale.

Once you get the saddle tight and get everything else on it's time to go riding. I just love to jump on a horse and ride. I believe that there is nothing as exciting as feeling the  power of a horse between your legs. Nothing as strong as a horse. The only thing that feels stronger is sitting on a horse bareback. Sitting on a horse without a saddle is so much different, you can't imagine until you actually do it. Feeling those muscles against your legs and feeling those muscles  against your muscles. There's nothing like it. Rose said she was going  bareback riding the next weekend and I was welcome to join them. I was so excited and ready to go riding. But that was also labor day weekend, the first weekend in Sept. and my parents and my brother where going to Reno for a weekend of gambling and free drinks and pretty girls. So I had to choose between pretty girls, free booze and the chance to win money. Well I decide on horse back riding.

So after work on Friday I followed Rose to where the horses are and we take a nice long horseback ride before dinner. After our ride we go to Rose's house and have something to eat and we decide that I'll spend the night  so we can get up the next morning to go riding. We had dinner and watched TV that Friday night and we then went to bed and got up early Saturday morning and drove to the pasture.

After catching the horses we put reins on them so we could direct them and we got up on the horses bareback and rode them around. Just about noon time my mom and dad and brother stopped by on their way to Reno. They wanted to make sure that I hadn't changed my mind and wanted to go to Reno with them.
But this was the first time I had ever ridden bareback and it was great. The best time I had ever had on a horse. It didn't make my mom happy that I didn't go with them, but I didn't go.  I stayed in Fremont        and  had a great time.

Saturday night we had a great Bar B Que and had a few rum and cokes or should I say, we had a lot of rum and cokes. After the drinks I was poured into bed, or rather onto the floor, for a good nights sleep. It's a good thing that I don't get hung over because I put away some rum that night. But what I hadn't planned on was waking up saddle sore. I was so sore that I couldn't even get up off the floor. When I did get up, I was so sore  that I couldn't sit down, I couldn't walk I couldn't do anything, stand, sit, walk, anything. My muscles were just toast, they couldn't move. But when Rose asked if I was ready to go bareback riding again, I said "Hell yes!". I headed out to the motor home and we loaded up and went to the pasture, got on the horses and spent another day riding. Yahoo!!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Gold vacation

It's July in 1980, I don't remember the exact week but John, his wife Sue and I are headed to Jackson, CA. and Electra road. We are headed out for a week of camping and gold prospecting. Mom and Dad are coming along. This is about the third time we've used our 3" dredge since we've bought it. We have been planning this trip for a month and we are leaving from work at noon. We got the early time off so we could get there and set up camp before it got dark. It's about a 2 hour drive to the Mokelumne River and Electra Rd. So we'll be able to set up well before it gets dark. So after picking up mom and dad and Sue, off we go.

We have been going to this spot for about 7 or 8 years and we can only hope that the spot we want is not taken. After our uneventful drive we get to the river and the spot we want is available. After pitching our tent and setting up camp we tackle the dredge. We have to put the frame together and then blow up the tire innertubes. After getting these together then it's time to put the sluice box on and the motor that has the water pump to pump the water thru the suction hose that creates a vacuum in  the hose and that sucks up the gravel and gold and deposits it through the sluice box. Also on the motor is a pump that pumps air into a holding tank for whomever is in the water. John was the one that was underwater and operating the hose. He has his scuba license so he is familiar with being underwater. I tried it but I did not do very well. Had trouble seeing and staying down. I wanted to float up and not stay on the bottom.

Now that we have the dredge set up we put it down by the water and tie it to a tree. We have to tie it to something because the river we're on and where we are it can rise if the power plant upstream kicks in and it starts running a lot of water from the holding pond through the power plant the river can rise. We always camp back far enough that we're not in danger of having the river rise so far that our camp would get flooded. Mom and Dad really don't have to do anything except relax and enjoy themselves. Their health has been declining and we didn't want them to have to exert themselves. They did some little things and helped when they could.

After a good nights sleep and a large breakfast it's time to hit the water and get the dredge working. Now as I said, John's job is to operate the dredge's hose underwater. My job is to stand by the sluice box and keep the larger rocks from stopping in the sluice box. If rocks that are between 2 and 3 inches get in the sluice and stop they can block other rocks and this could build up and that could cause us to loose gold. What happens is, the rocks stop and cause a riffle and the gold will accumulate behind the riffle and then it's dislodged, then any gold that was accumulating behind the rock could get washed down the sluice box and out the end and we would lose it. So my job is to prevent this from happening As John is putting on his wet suit I am filling the gas tank and getting things ready to put the dredge in the water. When John  is ready we pick a spot we want to dredge and we put the dredge in the water and  tie it to a tree and we also have an anchor and we set that in the river away from the land side of the dredge and we put the hoses in the water and make sure they're full of water so that when we start the pump it doesn't suck some air and won't make the pump bring up water.

Susie doesn't have much to do during the day. She does most of the cooking. John does a lot of the cooking at night. But Sue makes sandwiches during the day and takes care of John and me. This gives her time to nap during the day. Now the nice part about doing what I have to do is that Sue will make me a sandwich and bring it out to me. I am standing in waist deep water in this river and I don't have to stop to get a bite to eat. Now when John gets hungry we have to stop and let him come out of the water and get a sandwich or something else if he wants it.


Unless John has seen a lot of gold in the river as the dredge has been moving sand and gravel we will wait until the end of the day to do a clean up. This is where I have more to do. First we have to shut down the pump and bring the dredge to the edge of the river. The we have to clean out the sluice and to do this we put a large bucket at the end of the sluice and we lift up the metal riffles and slide what they call miners moss, which is very similar to indoor/outdoor carpet, out and into the large bucket. Then we wash down any rocks, sand, or black sand and gold into the bucket. If we have what is called pickers ,any gold that is big enough to pick up with your fingers, we pick those up before clean up and putting all this into the bucket.

Now that the clean up of the dredge is done it's my job and John gets to relax a little. It's time to pan down our tailings. Tailings have small rocks, sand, black sand and gold if we're lucky. Now I grab the bucket, a gold pan and a metal cup to scoop the tailings out of the bucket. I find a nice rock that's close or even partly in the water for me to sit on and pan the gravel down and see if there's any gold. First I get a cup full of gravel and put it in my pan. Then I put the pan in the water and keeping the pan parallel with the surface of the water I take the pan and shake it vigorously so that the gravel and the water mixes together and the gravel becomes liquified and this allows the gold to settle to the bottom of the pan and then you start panning out the rocks and sand until you get down to gold and black sand. When you get down to black sand and gold you get a snuffer bottler and you can collect the small gold. A snuffer bottle is a small plastic bottle that you can squeeze and when you let go it will act like a vacuum and will suck up the small pieces of gold. For the VERY fine pieces of gold that's mixed in with the black sand you save in a plastic or glass jar to work on at home where it's easier and you can use other methods. We always avoided glass so if we dropped it it wouldn't break.

I had bought my first wet suit and I was planning on helping John with some of the work under water. Well after the first day I have what's called divers ear, divers ear is an inflammation of the ear canal from water that is between the ear and your wet suits head piece. Not serious but painful. By Wednesday I couldn't stand the pain any more and off to Jackson and the emergency room. The doctor said, "Yes, you have divers ear." He gave me some meds and sent me on my way and told me to stay out of the water. Now my ear is burning and I figure some air blown in the ear would help. So I am back at camp and I am fanning my ear with my hand and blowing in the air with my mouth. I didn't realize what I was doing until everyone was laughing at me and my mom asked me, "what are you doing." I then realized I was blowing out in front of me and it wasn't doing any good for my ear. What an idiot.

The next day I am still having ear problems, mostly pain. But I can work with the sluice box and John will have to work under water and he really didn't mind. Especially on Thursday, he was underwater in the morning at about 10:30 and he came up and over to the sluice box and said, "Hold out your hand." I put out my hand and John put a nugget of about 1/2 an ounce in it. I was so excited, this was our first real nugget. We had found some other nuggets that where only a few grams but this was something. I didn't want to drop it and since John went back down and I had to watch the dredge so I stuck it in my mouth. I knew it was safe there I wouldn't swallow it and I wasn't going to drop it. Sue had seen John come up and she yelled at me, "What is it?" I answered, "It's a big nugget and held it up so she could see it. When she saw that I was holding something that she could see from about 30 feet away she knew it must be big. She got excited and ran to the edge of the river and then she started wading out to me. When she got close enough to really see it and see how large it was she was like a kid in a candy store and she was so excited. Mom and dad come to the edge of the water to see our nugget and then said they would see it later. So back in my mouth it went and it stayed there until we finished dredging for the day and then it went in a bottle.

The rest of the week we didn't find any nuggets as big as the one we found on Thursday. Come Sunday and it was time to pack up and go home. We had about 1/2 an ounce of gold collected in our little bottle and this was not counting the gold in the black sand that we had to process. Our trip home was uneventful just as our trip there was. Mom and Dad had a good time and very relaxing. Sue enjoyed herself as did John and I. We worked hard but we had a great time and the gold was a nice reward.

A Strange Phenomenon

One of the strangest things that has happened in our lives has to do with FFRC (Friends of Feline Rescue Center) in Defiance, Ohio and their 24/7 webcam.

 Cyndi and I watch this webcam about 7 to 10 hours a day, not that we watch it constantly but it is on. In the time that we have been watching which is about a year and a half, we have seen little ones come and go, some are adopted into their forever homes and some don't make it. We are always elated when one of the kittens or older cats get adopted and goes to their new home. During the kitten season (which is between March and September) the center may have between 80 and 110 cats and kittens.

We have seen kittens come in and have been thrown from cars or maybe was sleeping under the hood and got hit by the fan and have had to have a leg amputated and they still get adopted. And some come in and they aren't strong enough and don't make it. These are the ones that are part of the phenomenon I'm going to discuss. It's amazing that you can see these cats and kittens come into the center and you watch them day after day and you learn their names and you look forward to seeing them every day. They make you laugh and they make you cry, some times happy tears and sometimes the other kind. And that's the phenomenon I'm talking about. You never get to hold these cats, you don't get to pet them, you never feel them purr and yet you love them. You love them to the point that when they pass away they just break your heart and you cry as if it was your own pet that you just lost.

We just had a very sad example of this just last weekend. Our little Bravo, a black 3 month old, small for his age, kitten. He was born with defects to his back legs. One was stiff and shooting kind of straight out and the other one was pulled in kind of tight and they both caused him some pain and they did nothing but get in the way. So the vets decided to amputate both legs. They waited until he was at least 2 1/2 pounds. While he gained weight he built up strength in his front legs. Strength enough that he could pull himself all over the center and he could go up and down stairs. He was a cute bundle of fur and all the volunteers at the center loved him as did all the viewers on the webcam. 

Well on Wednesday Aug. 15th Bravo had his surgery and when he came home he was yelling in a lot of pain but Jacci (the centers director) gave him some pain meds and took care of him that night. The next day he was not in as much pain and he was doing so good and he was actually walking with his two legs and he was actually lifting up his little torso and looking for his friends to play with.

No comes the sad part, that night just before midnight Bravo started to go down hill rapidly and Jacci tried everything she knew and was on the phone to the vet 4 times trying to save this little guy. But just a little after midnight he passed on and made his trip over the Rainbow Bridge. Now when Cyndi and I found out we just broke down into tears. This for a little black kitten we had never petted, we never held him and never heard him purr. How this happens I don't understand. I don't know why we could shed tears for this little kitten we never touched just watched on a webcam.

I'm sure this is also the same thing that others do when movie stars and singers or sports people have passed on and others that never really knew them cry also. A very strange phenomenon if you ask me.

Marriage and Gold Prospecting

John, my brother, got married to Sue Brown in 1976. For their honeymoon they went to Southern California, where they planned to go to Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm and all of the tourist attractions in Southern California. They also planned a trip to KEEN engineering, to buy a 3" suction dredge for us to use  for gold prospecting. But I get a little ahead of myself.

John and Sue got married on a Saturday 3 days before John turned 30. I tell everyone that he was 30 when he got married. The reason I say he was 30 is because as we were growing up I said that "My brother wouldn't get married until he was 30." He is not cheating me with three days. So he got married when he was 30.

They were married in a small church in Santa Clara. There were about 30 friends and family. Mostly friends because all of our family lived back east, most of them in Pennsylvania. Sue's family was there, about 10 to 15. It was a very nice ceremony with a little humor. Of course I had the job of helping John get ready. So when John wasn't around I took his shoes and with white shoe polish I wrote HELP. HE on the sole of one shoe, his left. And LP on the sole of the right shoe. Now when he knelt down, you would see HELP on the soles of his shoes. Now it was about 10 minutes before the ceremony and we were waiting in an area outside of the church. John was just pacing around and I was worried that all his pacing was going to wear off the shoe polish on the soles of his feet.

Finally it was time and we walked into the church and stood at the alter with the priest waiting for Sue. The wedding march played and Sue came down the aisle. She was beautiful and was taking her time. She was aware of the word on the bottom of John's shoe. We told Sue so that if there was any laughter she wouldn't panic. If she hadn't known and during the ceremony she heard them laughing or giggling she would have panicked thinking, her dress was torn, her hair was falling down,, something, so we gave her a heads up. She was a good sport.

Now we were at the point where we had to kneel. I was John's best man and Sue had her maid of honor and we also had to kneel when John and Sue knelt. As soon as we knelt,  I started to hear some giggling at the front of the church, and it slowly started to move it's way towards the back of the church. Pretty soon everyone was giggling, they were trying to keep the giggling to a minimum but it wasn't easy. And the most exciting part was that John put his feet side by side. It was great, no gap between the letters HE and LP. HELP looked like it should, all one word. I know the friend of ours that was taking pictures got a very good picture of the feet. I am sorry that I can't scan it and include it with this story but those pictures were lost during one of John and Sue's moves.

The reception was also small, we had it at one of Sue's friends house and we used the garage and back yard. We had a great time and the happy couple had a great time. After most of the formalities were done, you know, the toast, first dance, garter throwing, bouquet tossing and so on, John and Sue make their way to the back yard to open presents. They got everything they wanted. They didn't need a lot because they had been living together for a while and had a lot of their household items. After the presents were opened they were getting ready to leave. John came up to me and gave me the key to his apartment to check on things while they were gone.

Okay, now I had John and Sue's key to their apartment and they were out of town. What practical joke do I make on their apartment? Corn flakes in the bed? Naw, too messy and they're going to be tired when they get home from all that driving. There's jello in the bath tub...hmmm... too hard to clean up. The light bulb goes on and I have good idea. Not too messy and pretty easy to clean up before they could go to bed. What is it you ask? I got a gross of balloons. That's a dozen dozens, which is 144 balloons for those non mathematical sorts. So about a week before their scheduled return I started blowing up balloons. I blew them up at home, at work during breaks and lunch. I got my mom helping. I'd blow up a balloon and stuff it in a garbage bag. When I filled up one bag I'd get another. Some of my 144 balloons popped while blowing them up and some had a hole in them. But after filling about 6 garbage bags I went to their apartment. They lived in the same apartment complex as I did. They were across the grass area about 20 feet away. I grabbed all the bags by the top where they were tied closed. When I get in their apartment I start dumping out balloons, I filled up the bath tub, I put them in the bed and then threw blankets over them. There were balloons in the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom, all over the place. It was great! I had to be careful as I left their apartment so none would escape. Some of the balloons tried to get away but I didn't let them.

So now John and Sue were on their honeymoon and having a great time. They were planning to get home on a Sunday and they gave me a call just before they were to get home. They wanted to know if everything was okay and should they stop at the store before they get home. I said yes, you need milk and some butter and some other things. They get home and when they get in the apartment they can't believe their eyes. They bust out laughing and popping balloons. Now Sue wants to pick up the balloons and put them in a trash bag and then pop them, that way the balloon part is in the bag not on the floor or wherever. But John wants to open the dredge box and look at it. So he pops the balloons in the living room and then goes out to the car and gets the box with the dredge in it.

3" Suction Dredge

We were now owners of a 3" suction dredge. Now we could get some gold, we could move the loose gravel over bedrock 10 times faster then we could before. This would help us get more gold. Gold is the heaviest metal and it will settle to the bottom of a riverbed and the dredge will suck the gravel on top of it. The dredge will suck up the gold too and the gold will be caught in the sluice box attached to the dredge. That was our new piece of equipment and we couldn't wait to go out prospecting.


 Wait till I tell you the story about the frozen wet suit.

My Cat, Tiger

Tiger was the runt of three orange tabbies my cat Tumbleweed had. Tumbleweed was a female orange and white long haired cat that I bred with an all black male long haired cat named Charlie that I had also. When I decided that I wanted to let Charlie and Tumbleweed have kittens I started to ask friends and family if they would like to have a kitten from my two cats. I was able to find 5 homes before the kittens were even born. But when Tumbleweed had her kittens she had six. Three orange tabbies, 2 calicoes and one black cat with a tiny white spot on his chest. The calicoes and the black one were spoken for. I had 2 other friends that didn't care what color the cat was so they would take one of the tabbies and I decided to keep the runt of the three orange tabbies. 

I named this little guy Tiger. I'm just a sucker for that name for orange tabbies, I had another orange tabby when I was a kid that we named Tiger. Tiger was very affectionate and he loved to curl up in my arms when I would lie on my stomach on the bed and watch TV. He was always in the bedroom when I was in there. I would eat in my bedroom because that was where my TV  was. Tiger was taught not to eat off my plate. I could leave the room and he would not take anything off the plate. I could leave for a long time and leave anything, fish, chicken or meat and he would not touch it. 

But Tiger loved ice cream and when I would bring a bowl of ice cream in the bedroom it was fair game and he would dig in. Now I know some will be grossed out, but I would let Tiger and my other cats eat out of my bowl.  I would no sooner set that bowl of ice cream down and he was in it. That was my boy Tiger. I'm sure by now you've noticed that I speak about Tiger in the past tense. Yes he is gone and I can't wait to see him as he waits for me at the Rainbow Bridge. Yes I am a believer that our pets go to heaven.

So Tiger I will join you some time soon and we'll have a great big bowl of ice cream.  LOVE YOU BOY!

One of the coolest things to happen

This is another short story and it's about this laptop that I'm using. What I really want is a tablet, but this will be okay until I can get one. Now, how did I get this? First off it's an HP Pavilion with AMD Turion  64 Mobile Processor ML-34 (1.8GHz, 1MB L2 cache, up to 1600mhz system bus) 1024MB system memory, 80GB hard drive, Windows XP and 15" widescreen. 

On Thursdays I go to Anita's Knitting and Crocheting club and one day I was telling Anita that I want to get a tablet or a laptop because it's hard to sit at the desk and use the PC. Well, Anita said she would be right back and she went to her apartment and came down with this laptop. She said that she wanted a computer so she could play solitaire, but she wasn't using this laptop very much and it was a gift to her also. So passing it along to me was just paying it forward. And that's how I got this cool laptop. It was one of the coolest thing to happen to me except for the day we went out for brunch for my birthday. 


My birthday was on Monday, but I wanted to go out for all you can eat brunch. So we went out for brunch on the Sunday before my birthday. Cyndi and I invited our friends Alan and Jan to go with us. We were enjoying our meal and we had had a wonderful time. The food was great, the chef came by,  as did the owner. And finally the waitress came by and said, "I suppose you're waiting for your check. Well you won't be getting one. The gentleman at the table beside you paid for your meal. All four of you plus the tip. So you don't owe anything." We couldn't believe it and we don't know why he chose us but how cool is that? It must have been about $100.00. That has to be the second coolest thing to happen to me after the laptop.

A trip to the coroners office before I'm ready.

Let's start out with a disclaimer. This will not be very graphic but if your squeamish maybe you should skip  this story.

I have an AA in Law Enforcement that I got from De Anza Jr. College in Cupertino, Calif. One of my classes was Patrol Procedures and our instructor managed to arrange an autopsy for the class. Wow ,were we excited and everyone showed up. No one cut class that day. Not that anyone in this class cut class very often, especially me. The date was set and our instructor gave us the address where to meet him for our tour of the county facilities. The autopsy was going to be done at Santa Clara County coroners office. We had to meet our teacher so that we could sign in and get our visitor badges. After signing in and getting our badges we went down the elevator to the basement to the coroners office and their autopsy rooms.

As we entered the room there was a large table in the middle of the room. Obviously there was a body under the sheet that was on the table. As all of us gathered around, the person doing the autopsy told us that if we felt like we were getting sick or going to faint to leave the room. Our teacher had already had us buddy up so that if we did get sick or afraid that we might pass out, we had someone to help us. As our assistant coroner was ready to start he pulled off the sheet and exposed our victim to us. He was a male that was about 62 years of age. There was no known cause of death, that's why they were doing the autopsy. They did know that he died alone and that they knew he was an alcoholic and that was about all.

Not remembering the assistant coroners name I'll just call him the teacher since he was teaching us. He started out with an incision from just below the esophagus down to the belly button. This was to allow access to the innards. After the incision, he used an electric  saw to cut the ribs so he could get to the vital organs. After cutting the ribs out completely he then started to remove vital organs one at a time starting with the heart. The first thing is to weigh it and record that, then the lungs, then the next organs in their proper order which I don't remember. So far I am doing okay and only 3 girls have left the room. After removing everything and weighing them, and even slicing the liver, heart and some of the other organs, our teacher is going to examine the brain. He made an incision all the way around the head and then he brought the electric saw back out and started to saw the skull to gain access to the brain. This is when I lost it, I was getting dizzy and I was afraid I would faint or get sick. After leaving the room for awhile I felt better and I returned.

As the teacher got the brain out and started to slice it, he showed us things that indicated minor strokes and other things that were in the brain that I don't remember now. This was back in 1970 or 1971 so my memory is not the best. When I got back into the room, he was telling us things that they look for and showing us things that indicated that the man had died of natural causes. I was feeling fine and the info kept me interested. I really think that when he used the saw to cut open the skull, it seemed inhuman to me, even though he was dead, and that's what got to me. Really stupid to let that get you upset.

After it was all over I can say that it was the most interesting and exciting thing that I've ever been  lucky enough to see. I did finish school and I got my A.A. in Law Enforcement but I never became a policeman, because I could never make weight requirements. But I do not believe any education is wasted and I have been fortunate to have gotten an A.A. degree from De Anza College. I am very proud of my degree.

Another MOM story.

This is a short story, I think it's short. My mom had an unusual condition. She had the ability to take care of almost any crisis and then after it was over or if the doctor was present, she would faint. Here are some examples.

The first one takes place when I was about 4 years old and we still lived in Pennsylvania. I was out playing in the front yard on the sidewalk and I fell and landed on my knee. I had about a half inch cut and was bleeding a lot. I went crying into the house to Mom and she sat me down and she cleaned up the cut. She bandaged it and went into the living room to sit down. She was starting to feel light headed. I was still whimpering and I crawled up into moms lap as she sat on the sofa. As soon as I got up in her lap and laid my head down against her chest she passed out. Everything was over so she could relax and that meant she would pass out.

Now we're living in Calif. and my dad is diabetic and he takes insulin shots every morning. This was in 1955 and things were not as sophisticated as they are now and the only way they could test the diabetes   was by using urine. That was not very accurate to say the least. Anyway, this one morning dad hit a vein and his insulin went through his blood and that caused him to go into insulin shock. He went into convulsions and hit his head repeatedly on the kitchen floor. In his insulin shock, he got up and went into the bathroom and closed the door and fell against it. I could have  helped him by giving him something sweet, but I couldn't get the door opened. Back then we used Karo syrup, not orange juice as they recommend now. 

Mom was at work and she had just started her new job and I didn't know the number. My brother had gone to school already. It's good that I hadn't gone yet. I couldn't get the bathroom door open and I was scared, but, for a 6 year old, I didn't panic . I called the operator and explained my situation, and all I could tell her was that my mom worked for a milk company in Santa Clara. She started to look and the only milk company was Carnation Milk. That was it! The operator called and got Mom on the phone. She also called for an ambulance to come for my dad. I explained everything to Mom and she said she would be home in about 15 minutes.

Mom actually got home before the ambulance got there. She tried to get into the bathroom and she couldn't get in either. Finally the ambulance got there and the two guys were able to push the door open and move Dad. They got him up on the gurney and bandaged his head. He had a cut just above his eye from banging his head on the floor. Mom got some syrup in him and they took my dad to our family doctor's office. As they brought my dad into the office and to an exam room, our  doctor took one look at my mom and said, "We'd better take care of you first." So they got her to lie down on an exam table and gave her some smelling salts. Our doctor was able to see by my mom's color that she was about to pass out. See, the doctor was there and everything was going to be okay and my dad would be taken care of so Mom was no longer needed. Dad got 7 stitches from the head banging. One of the original head bangers.


The next story is about me again. Now I am 11 years old and John and I are in Boy Scouts. Well one summer day we had this wonderful idea to raise some money. Down the street there was an empty lot and there was a lot of wood and we had the idea to gather  up the wood to sell. Some of it had to be cut. Well, being Scouts,  John and I had our own axes that we got for chopping wood when we went camping. So we decided could chop up the wood so we could sell it. We stopped for a break. I had seen other people take the ax and stick it in the end of a log. Well that's what I planned to do but one problem, the piece of wood was only about 2 inches in diameter. Now this was way to small to make this work. But that didn't stop this know-it-all. So here I was in flip flops, which was my first mistake. I put my foot on this piece of wood and swung the ax and it ricocheted off the end of the wood and hit my foot just on the inside of the ankle. Boy did it start to bleed. I was screaming in pain and running home with blood all over the street. When we got home John called Mom at work, and told her what happened and she was on her way. John  knew that he had to apply pressure on the wound. It hurt but he had to do it. When Mom got home she bandaged me the best she could and off we went to the doctor's office. Once at the office and the crisis was over,  they made her sit down and have some smelling salts. Again, she knew everything was okay because the doctor was there and she would pass out. The way my foot was cut by the ax it couldn't be stitched, so I just got a bandage. Of course I have a scar, but I'm okay.


That was my mom in a crisis. She could take care of the crisis but once it was over she was useless. 

Grandma Ann and Grandpa John

Ever since I was 5 years old I have known Becky Sanchez. We moved next door to her and her brothers and sisters in 1955. We went to kindergarten all the way through high school together. You could almost say we were childhood sweethearts it's just that we didn't love each other in that way. We were like brother and sister and that's all. 

When Becky was 17 she was dating and in love with David Burkhart and they would eventually marry. It wasn't an easy marriage to arrange, she was not yet an adult and her dad was not going to sign the papers for her to get married. During the time she was dating Dave he lived with us. This made it very easy for them to spend time together. All she had to do was come over to our house. We had no problem because Dave was a good kid and he was in the Navy and they would spend time with us watching TV, playing cards or maybe we'd go over to the school and just fool around. 

Dave loved to wrestle with me and he always wanted to arm wrestle me. He could never beat me, but he kept trying. If Dave ever thought I was getting mad when we were arm wrestling or just wrestling he would get up and run. He didn't want to see me mad. He was afraid that if I was mad and got a hold of him, I would hurt him. I don't think I ever would but I sure didn't let him know that.

Becky's dad finally gave his consent for her to marry Dave, he refused to be involved any farther than signing the papers...at first. So they set a date and my mom and dad said they would do what they could. They didn't have a lot of money but they would help where they could. They said they could have the wedding reception at our house. They would buy a ham and slice it up for sandwiches, Mom would make some potato salad and macaroni salad. They would supply some drinks, just no alcohol. Mom told Becky that it wouldn't be the greatest reception but at least they would have one.

As the date got closer, Becky's dad agreed to give her away and help with the reception. The only thing he really did for the reception was to buy some beer and alcohol. I was going to be a usher for the wedding so I had to rent a tux.  This would be my first time to wear a tuxedo and I was a little excited. But after I was in that tux for an hour or so I was ready to get out of it and I got out of it as soon as I could. I think I share that feeling with most men.

The day after the reception John  and Becky's brother Mike and I swiped a case of leftover beer, Miller High Life, and off to the beach we went. We finished the case of beer and when it was time to come home, I, being the youngest, got the job of driving, I drank more than the other two but I was still more sober, and they were 1 or 2 years older than me. Well, we got home safe and we had a great day. That was my first beer and the first time I stole something like that. 

Back to Mom and Dad and how they became Grandma Ann and Grandpa John. Pretty soon Becky was going to have a baby, a little girl. And when she was old enough to talk, she'd need to know who is who. Becky's mom and dad, Connie and Frank, were Grandma and Grandpa, so to distinguish between them and my mom and dad, Baby Charlene called my mom Grandma Ann and my dad Grandpa John and I was Uncle David and my brother was Uncle John. It was a little confusing because she saw us more than she saw her real grandma and grandpa so we had to distinguish the difference

Pretty soon Charlene had a sister, Cindy and she called Mom and Dad Grandma Ann and Grandpa John and when their brother David was born the same thing. So that's how my mom and dad became Grandma Ann and Grandpa John. Becky and her family was like family to us. Becky was the girl my Mom and Dad never had and they loved her. Becky's family loves us as much as we love them. Becky, I am sorry to say passed away from cancer. I miss her so much, she was my sister and we had a great life together.


I remember the day my mom  died, she had been in a coma for almost a month when she died. Becky said to me, "Do you realize that it's your dad's birthday?" That was on Feb. 2nd in 1995. She said "Your dad told your mom it was time to let go." And mom let go and joined my dad on that day, his birthday. I'm still in touch with Charlene and Cindy, but not with David. I love the girls, and I love David too, we're just not in touch with each other. Charlene and Cindy still call me Uncle David and I love to hear it. And when they speak of Mom or Dad it's still Grandma Ann and Grandpa John.


Dad, Mom and Becky, I love you all and miss you so much. RIP all of you.

My DAD

My dad is John Henry Menser Sr. I didn't have my dad very long, I'm not  sure of the exact year but it was around 1975 or 1976, when I lost him, so I would have been only 26 or 27.  Dad had a heart attack and died within hours of having his heart attack. My dad did not have the best health as he grew up. It started with diabetes and something that made him move from Pennsylvania to California in 1953. Then he had some stomach problems and hernias, which caused him to have approximently 80% of his stomach removed. Then eventually the diabetes caused him to have his big toe removed and that didn't take care of the problem so they had to remove his leg just below the knee. But that's really enough sad things about my dad's health.

My dad was not a very large man. He was about 5 foot 4 inches and at his prime he weighed about 180. That went down as his health went down. He grew up in Franklin Pennsylvania. When he was 9 he lost his dad and he had to help his mom raise his brother and sisters. I don't remember but I think he had one brother and two sisters that were alive when I was a kid. If he had more I don't know for sure. Either I don't remember, or they died when I was very young. As a kid my dad had to walk to school, and I remember that he had to walk 9 miles and in the winter it was in the snow. And of course he had to hike uphill BOTH ways.


My dad was in WWII and served in the Army as a Sargent. I remember some of his stories that he told us about being in the war. He told me a story about a rifle he got from a German sniper he had killed. Dad was a marksman so the rifle came in handy. One day a brand new Lieutenant came by where Dad and some others were resting and he told my dad that he had to confiscate all enemy weapons. My dad told him he wasn't getting the rifle. The Lieutenant said he would go on report. So my dad took the rifle and grabbed it by the barrel and wrapped it around a tree, scope first. Now the rifle was ruined and wasn't any good, either as a weapon or as a souvenir. My dad said, "Here you can have it now!" The Lieutenant said, "I don't want it now." He only wanted it for himself my dad told us. After it was broken he didn't want it and if it was really to be confiscated they would take it even if it was broken.


My dad never went into too much detail about his days in the war. But he did tell us some things. One of the stories was during the Battle of the Bulge. His unit was in a three day battle and when it was over, he and two others were the only ones left. He didn't go into details other than he said it was h*ll. Another story that he told us was about a newspaper clipping from his home town paper. He had made cherry pies at Christmas time and took them up to the guys up at the front. 

I don't remember any other stories, but I do know that he earned the Bronze Star, for what I don't remember. He also was wounded and received the Purple Heart, again I'm sorry but I don't remember how he was wounded. 

But my dad did bring home one souvenir that I kinda wish I had just as a remembrance of his time in Europe and the war. He brought home a German banner, it was about 3 to 4 feet wide and about 7 to 9 feet long. It was a black swastika on a white circle with red on each ends. What a cool thing to have, I know there will be some who think that this is not a cool thing and it's something that reminds us of a troubled time in our lives and that's true, but it is part of our history even if it's a very dark part of our history. I don't have it and I want people who read this to know that if I did have it, it would not have been a symbol of something wonderful but something that was bad but still part of our history just the same. That's all about that.


My dad had different jobs over his lifetime. He worked for the Joy Mfg. Co. in Pennsylvania. This was a company that made mining equipment for the coal mining industry. But when his health made him move to California he became a mailman. He had that job for about 3 years and then his back and feet made him quit that job. Then he became a cook. He cooked for restaurants very similar to Denny's and he also did some cafeteria work at Lockheed. Those people at Lockheed loved him, especially when he was making BBQ beef sandwiches, they always sold out of those sandwiches. Also on Fridays he made clam chowder and he usually ran out of clam chowder also. After my dad's health went downhill in the mid sixties he had to quit being a cook and even working completely for a few years. After some long stays in the hospital he had to learn a new profession. He also couldn't go back to work unless he went to Goodwill and learned a new trade and see if he was able to work for a full 8 hours.


At Goodwill he learned how to operate a Eubanks machine. This was an electric and air operated machine that was to measure, cut, and strip the ends of wire. This machine was capable of different lengths of wire, it could cut it 6 inches long, 8 inches even 2 feet or longer, just about any length. The ends could be stripped like an 1/8", 1/4", 1/2", even 1". I think that was the longest you could strip off the ends. An interesting piece of machinery. After learning how to operate the Eubanks machine, his doctor and Goodwill said that he could go back to work full time. Goodwill offered him a job and he went to work for them operating a Eubanks machine. After about 5 years with Goodwill he got another job for a company that had 2 Eubanks machines. It was more money and closer to home. He took the job and work there until he retired in 1974.

My dad loved to fish and he actually got his picture in the San Jose Mercury Newspaper. We had taken John's 17 foot runabout out in the San Francisco bay for a day of fishing for stripers. We launched  the boat from the ramp at Coyote Point Recreation Area.  We were going to fish near the approach lights for the airport. They had lights that went into the bay and we had fished there before and caught stripers so we wanted to try our luck again. After about 4 hours of nothing, we finally got a few bites and caught a couple of leopard sharks. We decided to move the boat and try another spot. Dad suggested we try over by the harbor. So we drove over and anchored just outside the harbor. We baited our lines with filleted sardines. We were there for about 30 minutes when Dad hooked a fish. We didn't know what it was, but we knew it was BIG by the way the fishing rod was bending. After 45 minutes of fighting this fish my dad was getting tired but he didn't want to give up. Finally he got the fish close to the boat and we knew he had a monster. Since he was getting the fish closer to the boat, we knew the fish was getting tired. After another 20 minutes Dad got the fish close enough to the boat so that I could net it. When we wrestled the fish into the boat we couldn't believe what Dad had caught. If we had been out in the ocean it would be one thing, but to catch this huge fish in the San Francisco Bay, that's something else. After fighting this fish we were done for the day, so we lifted anchor and drove the boat back to the ramp  where we got the car and trailer and loaded up. When we got our car and trailer squared away, we finally got to weigh our catch. He weighed in at a whopping 42 pounds. This was huge, so we went home, which was in  Mountain View, and we called the San Jose Mercury Newspaper and asked if they wanted to have a picture of a 42 pound striper for the paper. They said yes but to do that we would have to come to the papers office in San Jose. So we drove to the papers office car, boat and fish in tow. They had a photographer come out and take a picture of my dad hefting his 42 pound catch. You could tell how proud my dad was. and I didn't blame him.

Some of the things that I remember about my dad were centered around Christmas. (Any small children you might be reading this to have them leave the room, we don't want to spoil Christmas for them.) My dad loved to do things that made John  and me believe about Santa more than most kids. One of those things was that he would go back in the house when we were going over to our cousins house on Christmas eve and he would put out the presents that were from Santa so when we got back from our cousins house everything was there. We didn't know what was going on until we were older but that was so cool at the time. I also remember the year we had found a present hidden in the garage. When it wasn't under the tree on Christmas morning, John and I knew our dad had forgotten that he had hidden it in the garage.  John and I knew it was there so now we had to figure out how to get it. Well we came up with the plan that John would tell Mom and Dad that I sure wanted a Carom game and that I was disappointed that I didn't get it. When John told them that, they remembered the game and that it was in the garage and Dad went and got it.

My dad was pretty awesome I just wish I could have had him around a little longer. Here is a picture of Dad and Mom, taking a walk downtown during their dating days.

My MOM

Let's see, I've known my mom for 46 years, why not the 63 years that I've been alive? That's because my mom passed away in 1995, and I was 46 years old. Actually when I think about it and do the math, I was not yet 46. I would be 46 in April and she passed in Feb. of 1995.

My first real memory of my mom was when we moved to California from Pennsylvania. We flew on  a plane with these big 4 prop engines. This was in 1953 and we didn't fly in a jet. I don't remember if they even had jets for commercial airlines. Mom was so nice to me and my brother John. My dad was already in California so it was my mom's job to get us to California. While on the plane we got to visit the cockpit, which was something they did back then, for a lot of the kids that flew for the first time. Nowadays they don't allow that, with hi-jacking and other problems. Mom was great, she kept us quiet with some games and also got us to take naps.

My next real memory was not a pleasant one. I stuck her car keys in a wall socket. This was way before all the baby-proofing and socket protectors they have now. She got so mad at me, she sent me to my bedroom and I was told to stay there until my dad got home. He'd be home at 5:30 and it was about 3:00 when I made my big mistake. She was actually more scared than mad. She was afraid that I could have killed myself so she wanted me to learn my lesson. When dad got home he gave me a spanking. This was back when parents spanked their children, well some did and mine followed that rule. So I got my spanking and to tell you I don't think I was ruined by it and I think I'm pretty normal. And I learned my lesson. I never stuck the keys in the socket again.

I think most of my memories are good ones but I do have some that are questionable. Those usually are funny now, and people like to hear those stories over the others. I remember the year it was Christmas and Mom had most all of the shopping done and she even had the presents wrapped. Well I came up with the idea that I could open the presents very carefully and then re-seal them and no one would be any wiser. So I told my brother my brilliant plan. He said that we shouldn't do this but I said lets just do one and that mom won't find out. He agreed and I went into my mom and dad's bedroom where she had our presents stacked in a corner. I grabbed a small box that obviously held a watch, but since I was 11 years old and John was 13, it could have been anything. There were two of them, matching in size and weight. So I opened up the two boxes, one for me and one for John. There were beautiful gold watches inside with metal stretch bands. They were self-winding and even had the date on the face. They were very nice and really modern. After John and I looked at the watches for a while and tried them on we put them back in the box and re-wrapped them. Mom and Dad worked and wouldn't get home until after 5:00 PM. It was about 1:00 PM, so we had plenty of time to cover up our deed. We got them wrapped back up and kind of hidden at the bottom of the pile of presents. They were safe for about a week. Then one night Mom was in her bedroom, checking the pile of presents and she spotted those two tell-tale boxes.

Mom was sitting on the end of her bed when she called me and John into the bedroom. She was sitting there holding the two watches in her hand, their bad wrapping job incriminating us with each passing second. She asked us who opened the presents. At first we said we didn't know. And then we wanted to know why she thought we did anything with the presents. She looked at us and held up these rather badly wrapped boxes, matching in size and weight. The paper was wrinkled and creased, rather than nice and smooth like when she wrapped them. She asked us about that. I said, "The paper got wrinkled from the other presents sitting on top of them. " Mom replied, "That's not what happened, I can tell that these were opened and re-wrapped."  and she showed us where the paper and tape was messed up. So again she asked, "Who opened these?" Again we said we didn't know. She kept after us, asking us if we were lying and what happened. I then came up with a brilliant scenario. "Mom, maybe someone came in the window and opened the presents and then re-sealed them." She looked at me with total shock. I know now that she must have been just dying trying to hold back the laughter. She then said, "David, do you really think that someone would break into our house and open your presents?" I thought about it and I didn't know what to stay and how to avoid any more trouble. Mom then said, "Don't lie to me." I looked toward her but not in her eyes and said, "Mom someone must have come in here and opened them and closed them back up." She finally hit me with the killer statement, "David, do you think some stranger would come in here and open the presents and see these new pretty watches and not take them?"  She had me, I was caught. I knew I was in big trouble now, what a lame excuse. I knew she was going to be madder about my lying rather than what I did. I won't go into what happened after that. Let's just say that my  silly explanation at 11 years old, wasn't nearly as brilliant as I thought it was.

One of the things that I remember most about my mom is seeing her, year after year, sitting in her rocker in the living room, watching TV and crocheting. She made so many afghans for family and friends. We had so many friends that over the years have gotten married and Mom would make them an afghan for a wedding present. She did this for two reasons. The main reason was for the love of making something for them. The other reason was because it was not as expensive as buying something from a store. As she made these afghans I asked her if she would teach me how to crochet. She did and I loved it. It gave me something that my mom and I had in common.  As I got older and I got better at crocheting I began to take over making the afghans because Mom had Rheumatoid Arthritis in her wrists and hands and she could no longer crochet. The thing I loved about me making the afghans now was that I still had mom to help me if I ran into trouble. 

Mom's always been the type of person that has to keep busy and crocheting was perfect for her. But now she had to find something else she could do with the limited use of her hands. She discovered she could make Christmas ornaments out of plastic canvas  and embroidery floss. She would make all kinds of Christmas ornaments: Christmas tree, Snowman, Angels, Bells, all kinds of things. She also taught herself how to put names or initials on the angels and on a little toy soldier. She sold a lot of those over the years and she gave a lot of them to friends. For friends, she would make angels for girls and the toy soldier for boys and she would put either names or initials on them. 

Mom has been gone for 17 years now. But it still makes me cry if I happen to get in touch with someone that I haven't talked to in a while, and they tell me that they still put their angel or soldier on their Christmas tree every year and it reminds them of my mom and how much they loved her. And that reminds me how much I LOVED her.

That's just a little bit about my mom, bless her heart.

My Best Friend in High School

I actually had two best friends when I was going to high school, one was Bill and the other was Jack. Jack  and I were more adventurous than Bill and I were. That didn't make me like one or the other any better, we just enjoyed different things. Jack and I loved the outdoors and we loved to go out and get into a little mischief, while Bill and I enjoyed movies and other things that were a little less adventurous. 

Some of the things that Jack and I would do was off road driving, target shooting, racing and even bull riding. I remember Jack had a 1955 Ford station wagon and he raised the springs so he would have more clearance under the car when driving off road. He didn't care where he drove that thing, anywhere he thought he could go, he tried. He loved to drive up past our lake in the area called Stevens Creek Reservoir. The lake was fed by Stevens Creek. It was a little creek that was mostly runoff from the mountains. It would have water most of the year but as the summer wound down it started to dry up. There was an asphalt road that followed the creek into the mountains for about 12 miles until it became a dirt road and continued for about 6 more miles where it ended at the creek. After that, there was a dirt road, if you want to call it a road, that went up the mountain. It was not very steep, it went up the side of the mountain at about a 20 degree embankment. 

One day Jack decided he was going to go up this road and see if he could get up to the top of the mountain. He started up the road and he was doing pretty good until he got to a section that was full of deep ruts from others going up the road when it was wet. Jack's station wagon was not four wheel drive so he didn't have very good traction. It was, after all, a 1955 Ford station wagon: not exactly built for off-road mountain climbing. If he hit a deep rut on one wheel it would spin and the other one did nothing. He tried and tried to get up past this very rutty section of the road but to no avail. He finally gave up as it got later in the day. We got in the car and he had to back down the road since there was no room to turn around, luckily it wasn't that far. Once he got  down the road where it was a little wider, he turned around and home we went.

Jack was pretty stubborn and he was not ready to give up climbing that mountain. He thought he needed more clearance so he jacked the car up at least another 3 inches. After getting more clearance he and I went back up the road. This time I drove my own car, a 62 red Ford Fairlane, my first car. I decided to bring along my dad's 12 gauge double barrel shotgun. I was going to do some shooting while Jack tried to conquer the mountain. I parked the car and got the shotgun out of the trunk and loaded up both barrels and started to shoot some cans and bottles. Jack revved up the Ford, popped the clutch and peeled out in the dirt and went up the road. I heard him slow down and then he revved up the engine again and I could hear him spinning the tires. He was stuck again, but he kept trying. Pretty soon I heard him go up the mountain a little farther. After a while, he was up so far that I could barely 

hear the car any more. A little while later, I heard the station wagon getting closer and I assumed he was coming back down. When he got to where I was, he stopped the car and got out. I asked him, "What happened?" He said, "The road ended." So we spent the rest of the day shooting the shotgun until we ran out of ammo. Then we got in our cars and drove back home. Since Jack had reached the end of the road, he gave up trying to get to the top of the mountain.

Another of our adventures was this place called Mosebee's. It was a place where you could pay a small amount and ride a bull. Actually they were steers, but I tell everyone  bulls because that sounds more macho than steers. Other friends that Jack and I hung around with were Dave and his brother Lynn. Lynn, who was 2 years older than the rest of us,  told us of this place and said "Let's go and we can ride the bulls." Now they did have a couple of bulls for the very brave, and in my opinion, the VERY BRAVE! So there was me and my brother John, Lynn and his brother Dave and his friend Glenn and Jack. We got  there and we watched some of the other fools that where dumb enough to pay their money to ride. Finally Jack said, "I'm going to ride one of those steers." I looked at him and said, "Are you serious? Come on Jack, you'll get killed." "No I won't," he replied. Lynn spoke up and said, "I'm going to ride one, too". I looked at John and then at Dave and said, "Are you two going to ride?" They looked at me as if I had a hole in my head. John said, "No way am I getting on one of those steers, are you?" I replied, "I'm thinking about it" "What about you Dave?" I inquired. "Not in a million years!" Dave said to me. Glenn spoke up and said, "I'm going to ride." Jack looked at me and said, "Come on man, let's do this together." I'd fallen for that line so many times, I  said, "Sure let's do it." 


I was the first to pay my money and risk my life. I was about to climb onto the steer when that crazy animal literally climbed up the side of the chute and up and over and ran down the arena area and back to where the herd was. I looked at that steer very close to see if it had any special markings, because I sure didn't want him again. Well, I noticed that he had a white star on his forehead. So when it was my turn again I told the guys that were helping us get on the steers and wrapping the rope around our hand that I didn't want the same steer that I was supposed to ride earlier. As I was putting on my leather gloves and getting ready to climb up the fence to get on the steer I saw that same star on the steer's forehead. I said, "Wait a minute, I don't want that one, he's crazy, he just climbed out of the chute". One of the guys helping us  said, "No that's not the same one." I said, "Yes it is." "No it's not!", he said very sternly, and told me to get on him. Well I gave in and stood on a rail on each side of the chute and slowly sat down on the beast. As soon as he felt me sit down on him he tried to climb up the side of the chute again. He didn't make it this time and I climbed up off him. We waited for him to settle down and I sat down on him again. He stomped around a bit, he moved back and forth what little he could. Finally he settled down a little and they were able to wrap the rope around my hand and then they put the flank strap on him and waited for me to give them the signal to go. 

The signal was to raise the opposite hand that wasn't wrapped with the rope and then nod my head. They would open the chute door and pull the flank strap up tight, this would encourage the steer to buck harder. Let me tell you, IT WORKED. The steer spun to the left as he came out of the chute, my hat went flying to the right. I held onto that rope as tight as I could. I really don't remember much about that rope. I do remember the steer bucking up and I went up with him. He went down and I started to come down just as he was going back up. We hit in the middle and that was it, I went sailing up above the steer and flew about 3 feet higher than the steer had bucked. Now my hand had come loose and as I came down there was no steer for me to land on. But there was some very hard ground to hit, and hit it I did. I landed on my tailbone and bounced. Talk about hurt! I was in such pain that my friends had to help me up. Jack had my hat, he stuck it on my head and said, "Way to go, cowboy!" The steer made a bee line to the holding pen. He just wanted to get back and wander around his pen with his buddies and eat. He didn't seem to care at all about me or my tailbone.


I went over to the fence on the other side of the arena and waited for Jack to make his ride. He got on  his steer and when he came out of the chute the steer just wanted to spin, trying to get Jack off his back.  We all were yelling and whistling for our friend. I'm sure they all yelled for me but I sure don't remember hearing anything except that steers snorting and hooves beating the ground. Eventually, the steer Jack was on threw him into the air and took off out from under Jack. It took about 4 seconds of the 8 seconds your ride is supposed to be. Lynn was next, he stayed on a little bit longer, about 5 1/2 seconds. Glenn chickened out. Mosebee's policy  was no refunds, but you could let someone else have your ride. Glenn asked, "Does anyone want to go again"? Jack spoke up, "Yeah, I'll go again". So we all sat on the fence and watched and cheered Jack on for his second ride. He didn't do any better but he had fun and avoided any injuries.


 It was time to go home. So we got in our cars and headed home. Me, John  and Jack were in my mom's 1960 Chevy Belair. And Glenn, Dave and Lynn were in Glenn's Studebaker. I don't remember what year he had but it was cool. Now, Mosebee's was in San Jose and we lived in Mountain View. Mountain View was about 12 miles north of San Jose. We had to drive on freeways, 101, 80 and 280 to get home. Being kids we thought we were invincible, so of course, we were going to race. As we made the transition from 101 to 80, that's when it happened, Glenn floored his Studebaker and passed me and I kicked that 283 into passing gear and took off. It didn't take but about 2 to 3 miles to catch him and pass him. When I did pass him I looked down at my speedometer and it read 102 MPH. John was in the back seat and he yelled at me to slow down and to put both hands on the steering wheel. I was soooo cool, I had one hand on the steering wheel and my other arm was out the window just as if I was out for a Sunday afternoon cruise. I wasn't about to slow down now, I had just passed them and I was staying in the lead. John yelled at me again to slow down. "Do you want to get caught by the cops?!?" John yelled in my ear. I didn't want to get caught, Mom and Dad would ground me for the rest of my life if I got a ticket for speeding and racing. I had promised them that I would not race on the freeways. How many kids made that promise?  By now we had traveled about 5 miles and Glenn had slowed down so I slowed down too. We had proven ourselves. After that it was an uneventful ride home, with no tickets and no accidents. 


Within a week I was feeling the effects of my bull riding adventure. I could hardly sit down or bend over, the tail bone area was very sore.  I had some other muscles that also were very sore. I went to the doctor and he said I had damaged my tailbone and I needed a shot of cortisone. The shot helped and it never bothered me again. Jack had some sore muscles also, but he didn't hurt anything like I did. We talked about that for weeks upon weeks. We never did go back but it sure was a special thing for some high school kids to do. It's a memory I'll have forever.


Jack moved back to Phoenix, AZ. which is where he was originally from. He went back in the middle of our senior year. We were devastated, we didn't want to be separated, but we had no choice. After I graduated from high school I flew to Phoenix and spent two weeks with Jack and his parents. What a great time we had;we went shooting, off road driving, just all kinds of things that 18 year old boys do. Jack's parents wanted to show me Phoenix, so we went sightseeing. About two years later I got a call from Jack's mom. He had passed away from leukemia. This was my first loss of a good friend, and it broke my heart. I couldn't afford to fly to Arizona for the funeral but I sent flowers. I sure do miss my friend Jack Graham. But he is not forgotten. RIP my friend, love ya always.


My next story won't end so sadly, I promise.

Fearless Boy Scout Camper

I joined the Cub Scouts when I was 10 years old. You normally join Cub Scouts when you're 7 and earn your ranks as you get older.There were certain ranks that you have to earn as you go through Cub Scouts. You start with Bobcat, then Tiger Cub, on to Wolf , then Bear and finally you advance to Webelos. These are ranks that I managed to make in my one year before I advanced to Boy Scouts. These ranks  are normally reached as boys are growing up and enjoying Cub Scouts between the ages of 7 and 10.  But I was already 10 and I was planning on going into Boy Scouts when I turned 11, so I wanted to earn my ranks as fast as I could. I learned the requirements and studied hard so I could earn all my ranks before I turned 11. I made it! I received my badges. I was now officially a Boy Scout.

My brother, John, was already 13 and had  made his Tender Foot Badge, his Second Class Badge, First Class Badge and was working on his Star Badge when I joined the Boy Scouts. I joined the same time Danny joined. Danny was the scout masters son and his birthday was the same as mine and we became best friends. We did everything in Scouts together; in fact we were inseparable. As we grew up and continued in Boy Scouts we got our badges at the same time. When I made Tender Foot so did Danny, all the way up to and including our Star Badge.


My father, John Sr., was the assistant Scout Master and he did a lot for Troop 103. He did a lot of camping with the troop. If we were planning a camping trip he was always one of the adults to go along and camp with us. He was very knowledgeable about camping. That came from his days in the army. He was also a very good cook.  He was very good at teaching the scouts things out in the wild. How to start a fire without matches, how to track wild animals, how to make an oven with aluminum foil, and how to use a dutch oven. My mom did a lot to help, especially in transportation. She would load up the car and drive us to the camp site and if needed, she'd go back and pick up another load of kids and bring them. If we were camping far away where it wasn't convienent to drive back home, she would camp with us. She was a real asset to our Scout Troop.


I became a Boy Scout just after my 11th birthday in April. Camp came due in July and our troop had plans to go. My brother and I wanted to go to camp, so to raise money, we sold candy. We didn't make enough to pay for camp but mom and dad agreed to pay the rest. The camp was in northern California. I don't  remember the name of the camp or the lake it was on. The camp was on the far side of the lake and the only way to get to it was to use a power boat and drive across the lake to the camp. The camp was beautiful, secluded and  very good for teaching the scouts about camping and outdoor life.


We had all the activities of any camp; canoeing, row boating, swimming, diving, baseball, fishing, etc. Danny went to camp also and we had a great time. We did everything together except swimming. At 11  years old, I had not yet learned how to swim. The camp leaders tried to teach me, but no luck. But, I could dog paddle and keep myself afloat. Danny and I loved to canoe. Every free time we had ,we would check out a canoe and off we would go. I remember one time we went across the cove that the camp was on and when we got to the other side, we planned to beach the canoe and do some exploring. As we got close to the shore I looked into the water and it was so clear, I could see the bottom. It appeared to be about 3 feet deep, so I assumed it was safe to jump over the side of the canoe. WRONG!!! I jumped over the side and when I hit the water, down I went! My feet never touched the bottom, it was so deep. When I came up, I gasped for air and grabbed the side of the canoe and pulled myself up into it. Danny was laughing and as I calmed down I, too, started to laugh. By now I was soaking wet and had to go back to camp and change. That ended our adventure for the day.


I bet you're wondering by now where the "fearless" part of this story comes in. Ok, I'll get to the reason I am writing this story. While in camp we had a hike and camp out. We were going to hike about 2 or 3 miles and then pitch our tents, start a fire, cook a meal and spend the night. When it was time to go to bed I crawled into my pup tent. My dad was sleeping just outside of the tent because Danny was in the tent with me. My dad was along as one of the four adults that chaperoned us. It doesn't take too long to fall asleep in the wilderness. It's so quiet, dark and after hiking you are usually tired. Well I was very tired and fell asleep almost immediately. At about 1 AM I woke up because I had to pee. But I heard a buzzing sound outside. It sounded like a huge bug or a bat or   a Scout-eating monster, or who knew what else. I was so scared that I just pulled my sleeping bag up over my head and  forgot about my other needs. I slipped back into slumber until my bladder woke me up again. I still had to 'go', but I was too afraid to get up and go outside and relieve myself. The monster was still out there, making his scary sound. It was now about 3:30 AM. I knew I had to wait about 3 more hours before it was daybreak and it would be safe to go outside and answer nature's call. Finally, when it was light enough to see, I got up and peeked through the tent flaps. I could still hear the scary buzzing sound. At first, I couldn't see anything, but I was finally able to figure out where the sound was coming from. There is my dad, laying there just outside the tent, snoring up a storm. I was afraid to get up and take care of business because of my dad's snoring.. How brave is that? What can I say, I was only 11. Not the bravest time in your life. So when I knew it was safe to exit the tent. I went and found a nearby tree, and I mean I found it quickly because I had to goooo!


After making some breakfast and packing up our stuff, we hiked back to camp. What a great time I was having at camp. I never wanted to leave. I think every kid that goes to camp feels that way. It was a great experience that I will never forget.


What will my next story be? Maybe you'd like another scouting story, or it could be about my Corvette, maybe gold prospecting. Could be about my pin collections, or maybe my beloved 49ers. You'll just have to wait and see!