Saturday, May 9, 2009

10



HOM: NNC & AddictionMar 11, '08 12:04 PM
for everyone
My love affair with coffee got started at NNC.


Prior to that, coffee was something you added to a cup of cream and sugar to cut the sweetness.


(Flashback: Vic. He called it "Norwegian Style" when he would pour a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee, measure out a teaspoonful of sugar, EAT THE SUGAR, and then drink the coffee.)


Anyway, "The Bean" was the coffee shop in the student center where folks gathered, studied, drank coffee, ate donuts, and visited. During finals week, they peddled a LOT of coffee there. Long late hours and caffeine stimulation went well together.


At the end of the year, I had learned to like coffee, though "black" was still foreign to my drinking vocabulary. Coca-cola was still my beverage of choice most of the time.


TBC

Blog EntryHOM: NNC In The HazeMar 10, '08 3:25 PM
for everyone
These first two years are hard to salvage.


I spent the 65-66 and 66-67 terms at Nampa, took a paid (Courtesy of the USN) four year hiatus and then returned for two more partial years - winter/spring of 72 & winter/spring of 73.


Two sets of memories, two sets of friends, too many events. It is going to take a while to get any sort of order in this - be patient. Keeping who/when sorted out at this distance is hard.


OK - back to 65-66, J.W. Shires, and the new environment.


One of the mixed signals NNC gave me was a required PE class. I had taken three PE classes at MSU - swimming, softball & bowling - and thought I had the PE stuff all over with. Wrong! Freshman had to take PE & technically I was a freshman so I found myself slogging around a track and doing calisthenics again. (In those days NNC didn't have fun PE classes like MSU did.) Remember I said I didn't enjoy walking? Well, I HATE running!


Bill pushed me into studying harder too, and I remember surprising one of his more elitist friends by getting the highest score in class on a Psych test. My studying went downhill a bit when I started dating, though.


----------


Well, if there is going to be any order in this, I better start with the dorm.


Mangum Hall was an el-shaped two-story building on the east side of what was then Kurtz park on the SE corner of the intersection and just a block up from what was then a hospital. Helstrom Business Center is on that spot now and the four square blocks that were the park are now occupied by Brandt Center and parking lots. The park was beautiful, trees and grass, and a favorite student hangout.


The bottom of the north wing held Al Haynes' residence and two large dorm rooms. Bill had one of the big rooms and certainly the nicest. Dick Stevens, Ernie larson & Ron Musick had the other room.


----------


Bill's room was a home - rugs on the floor, stereo, a nice selection of records - and reflected his taste. The room also reflected his shopping habits, and I just now realize where I got some of my habits. Bill bought nice things, secondhand and at bargain prices. He traded, bartered, haggled, made and saved money, and enjoyed the nicer things in life on a budget.


(One comment a guy made about Bill in those pre-PC days - "He's worse than a Jew, he's a Jap!")


This kind of shopping was new to me. as Dad's theory on buying used merchandise was that you were only buying someone else's problems.


Sometimes Bill's schemes backfired. He wanted a red vest to go with his suit and I decided I wanted one too, so off we went to the thrift shops - fruitlessly! Every vest they had was black.


Bill's bright idea involved red dye, so we got a couple of the black vests and some red dye and went to work.


Let me advise you, up front, you CAN"T dye black clothing red, no matter how hard you try - and we tried! We also found out that if you put wet freshly-dyed clothes in a drier, the drier ended up retaining the dye and depositing it in the next batch of clothes that were put in.


Al Haynes didn't like having all-pink undies! He was the next one to use the driers and as soon as he took them out of the machine he ran down and banged on our door - he KNEW we were responsible but couldn't prove it!


Fortunately, most of Bill's plans worked better.


----------


Since I need to salvage SOME order out of this, I need to wander back in memory a bit and figure more things out. Like Ahnold, I'll be back - hopefully with a little order mixed in with the humor and anecdotes.


TBC


Blog EntryHOM: Deja Vu All Over Again!Mar 9, '08 11:53 AM
for everyone
(Thank you, Yogi Berra! I love the way you mangled the language!)


(For more Yogi, see http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/y/yogiberra135233.html )


The folks drove off & I drug my stuff up to the dorm - the freshman dorm - the WRONG dorm!


NNC & MSU used different systems, I think it was trimesters vs quarters, and NNC wasn't sure what to do with me after my two quarters at MSU. Their first decision was that I shouldn't be in the freshman dorm but in one of the sophomore dorms across campus.


NNC: There I was, misplaced, lost, lonely, depressed, out of step again and kicking myself for deciding to make such a drastic change. 500 Miles From Home.


That beginning gave me no inkling of the miracles that would happen that year.


I gathered up as much of my stuff as I could carry and was surveying the rest when an affable young man named Neil Colby walked up, introduced himself, found out the situation, grabbed a couple of bags and said "Follow me!" Neil was my first friend at NNC.


(Neil. I better fill this in while the brainthane is still strong. Neil was a PK, a Preacher's Kid. In later years I dated the woman he ended up marrying, worked with his younger brother at C&C Plywood, and listened to his father, Bernie, preach at my church when he pastored there. His time at NNC ended when the school disapproved of the dynamite he stored under his bed, but years later he moved to Kalispell and we got reacquainted. As far as I know, Neil & Cheryl live in Alaska now. )


He led me over to Mangum Hall, my new home, and introduced me to the man in charge of the dorm, an Alaskan guide named Al Haynes who had come back to school to get a theology degree. Al assigned me an empty room. (Fall term had kids packed like sardines into the rooms, every quarter thereafter there was more room as kids dropped out.) I got my stuff more or less unpacked and then wandered around trying to get oriented.


Since I was a sophofreshman (Freshomore? Sophman?) in the school's eye, neither fish nor fowl, I didn't go through the usual freshman orientation. Instead of being in the freshman dorm where everyone was new and working at getting acquainted and making friends I was in with kids who had mostly known each other for the last year and had established their cliques and friendships already. I was Out Of Step again.


I don't remember the circumstances now, but I met the guy that had a profound effect on my life. His name was Bill Shires; my age, but far more nature than most of the kids on campus. He was a social worker at heart and picked me for his project that year.


He invited me to be his room mate and then gave me a crash course on living and socializing. He introduced me to his girlfriend and into his circle of friends and did his best to teach me all the social graces I needed to get by on campus, the stuff most folks pick up as little kids. He worked on my dressing, grooming, studying, socializing, interacting, working, meeting girls, dating, et al, till at least some of my rough edges were gone.


I think that I owe who I am to Bill, almost as much as I owe Mom & Gordon & Lois.


For more on Bill, and the kind of man he is, go to: http://blacktailbooks.com/shires.html


TBC




Blog EntryHOM: OH MY!!Mar 8, '08 11:39 AM
for everyone
This fresh memory bubble just popped up! The only pun I ever heard from Vic!


When I got my first car, I took it over to show Vic. The conversation went like this:


Vic: "What did you get?"


Me: " A Ford Falcon!"


Vic: "Yes, you always get a Falcon when you buy a Ford!"


Vic liked Dodges, not Fords....


Told ya some of the bubbles smelled funny!


TBC

Blog EntryHOM: Marshing On!Mar 8, '08 11:29 AM
for everyone
Time to stir up the mud in a new arm of the bog: NNC.


Lois & Gordon thought I should go to Northwest Nazarene College. It had a morally cleaner environment than MSU and had the advantage of being 500 miles away in a different state.


At MSU, I made it home every few weekends and called home a lot. Lois thought more separation would be good for me, so I applied to NNC and was accepted for the 1965 fall term.


I didn't discuss this too much with the folks, though Mom knew of my plans, and I was pleasantly surprised when Dad broached the idea that it might be better for me to go to a different school that was further away. I don't know if Mom had coached him, but when I told him of my NNC plans he didn't seem too surprised. I suspect Dad felt I was too much of a Momma's boy and needed to cut the apron strings. I also suspect he was right!


Mom had always been quite protective of me and kept me on a pretty short leash when she could and my rocky relationship with Dad hadn't helped. I still remember a fight he had with Mom over wanting me to work at Darel's more than I did, and his slamming out of the house yelling that she better teach me how to cook & sew if she wasn't going to let me learn to work with him.


I was pretty mad at him for that, but looking back I see his point, but he never made any noticeable effort to make working with him a pleasant learning experience.


I gotta admit, though, working with him was great preparation for Boot Camp later on. By that time I was used to keeping my mouth shut while being yelled at!


Anyway, that September he & Mom loaded me and my stuff into my car and we headed over Lolo pass for Nampa and a new learning curve. The next two years taught me a lot!


The lessons started with that trip. I drove my little Falcon down there and got 16mpg, Dad drove it back to Montana and got 26mpg. The difference was in the driver! (I still don't get good gas mileage from my rigs - I love horsepower and speed way too much. Dad babied all his mechanical possessions, was meticulous with their maintenance and gentle in their use. His old farm truck is over 50 years old and still in use!)


Anyway - NNC!


We found the campus and located the freshman dorm, then Dad dumped me and my stuff on the sidewalk and left. Time to sink or swim, and maybe time to sort out the boys from the men.


TBC


Blog EntryHOM: MethaneMar 7, '08 6:30 PM
for everyone
My brains serves up memories the way a bog serves up swamp gas, in random bubbles that smell funny. Here are some vaguely related events that churned up in memory when I was laying awake last night.


Hunting alone on the "island" in Church Slough one brilliant autumn evening, mostly just admiring the leaves and poking around, I saw an oddly shaped stick in the grass and leaves ahead. I didn't pay much attention to it till I was beside it - and it sprouted wings and took off under my feet. It was a grouse, who was either thinking it was hidden or was as inattentive to the surroundings as I was. I never got off a shot at it...


That island had a hidden treasure - tucked away in the woods was an old crab apple tree, and in the fall it had the sweetest, juiciest apples I have ever tasted. Alone or with Paul, I visited it every chance I got and loaded up on the fruit. I wonder if it is still there?


Dad saw a bunch of pheasants fly into the narrow spit of land between the slough & the river behind what is now Jellar's. He got me, and had me take the boat down to the slough entrance while he walked back through the woods with the dog. The plan was that the birds would flush past me and one of us would get a shot.


I got in position on the bank and was waiting for action when I heard running feet. Thinking it was Julie, the dog, I relaxed, but it was a big doe that burst into sight. She saw me at about ten feet, spun a ninety degree turn and leaped for the river. Reflexes took over and I swung the shotgun like she was a bird taking off and fired. She somersaulted into the river, dead, so I drug her out and waited for Dad. I heard him shoot once, and in a bit he and the dog came walking up with a pheasant they had gotten.


When he asked me if I got anything, I told him I had bagged a big hen - when he saw the deer, he dropped the bird he was carrying!


This was the second shotgunned deer I know of out there. I bird-hunted the island once with friend Billy D, who jumped a doe at close range and reflexively nailed it with his shotgun. The trouble was, season hadn't quite opened yet and it was a couple of scared kids who snuck the deer home to be eaten.


As long as we are talking about illicit food - I remember Gladys telling me of a couple of Vic's escapades.


They needed meat, and there were a lot of deer on their farm up by Columbia Falls, so one night Vic decided to poach one. He made a bad shot! The wounded deer ran over into a neighbor's yard and died and they went hungry.


He tried again, using a flashlight, when a fat young doe was eating apples out of the tree in his field. He flipped on the light, shot, the deer dropped, he flipped the light off, put the gun down, grabbed his knife and took off at a dead run in the dark to make sure it was dead.


Gladys heard his pounding feet, then a meaty "THUD", a crash, and some retching wheezing sounds, so she ran out - and found out that Vic, still night-blind from the flashlight, had run into the three-point hitch on an implement. The hitch knocked the wind out of him and he was moving fast enough that he tipped the implement over.


They got the meat they needed, but Vic wasn't sure it was worth it!


When he was young, Vic used to fish through the ice on the river east of our house. Being optimistic about the size of the fish, he cut a huge hole in the ice, then gathered up his gear and went running out, slipped, and fell into the water through the hole he just made. Luckily he came back to the surface in the hole and not under the ice, but the temperature was well below freezing so he had to take off at a hard run for home to keep from freezing after he struggled out.


Since writing of Vic is stirring up a few more bubbles about him, I might as well put them down before they get lost in the atmosphere.


Vic was passed over for military service in WWII. The doctors said he had a heart murmur and would not take him.


This always bothered Vic, being left behind at a time when so many of his friends and neighbors were off defending their country.


One of his friends who did go, and came back, was Bud Stewart. Bud was a friend of Mom's too, and was a very tough man. Like Vic, he was a good friend and a deadly enemy.


Bud was having coffee with Mom when she saw some trespassers out in the field. When she went out and asked them to leave, Bud was right behind her with his shotgun, and the trespassers were quick to leave.


Bud was in the Pacific, and never told me many details of what he saw and did, but what he did tell me was fairly unforgettable. His one regret was thet he never had a good clear shot at General MacArthur!


Bud was the one that always loaned Vic his ten gauge double barrel for goose hunting, but didn't warn him that it could go off when it wasn't supposed to. Vic was standing by me when he dropped a pair of shells into the gun, and when he snapped it shut both barrels went off. No damage done, except to Vic's hand from recoil and both our systems from shock.


TBC


Blog EntryPower HammerMar 7, '08 11:26 AM
for everyone
Like Grampa used:




HOM: OH MY!!
This fresh memory bubble just popped up! The only pun I ever heard from Vic!

When I got my first car, I took it over to show Vic. The conversation went like this:

Vic: "What did you get?"

Me: " A Ford Falcon!"

Vic: "Yes, you always get a Falcon when you buy a Ford!"

Vic liked Dodges, not Fords....

Told ya some of the bubbles smelled funny!

TBC
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Saturday March 8, 2008 - 10:39am (MST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
HOM: Marshing On!
Time to stir up the mud in a new arm of the bog: NNC.

Lois & Gordon thought I should go to Northwest Nazarene College. It had a morally cleaner environment than MSU and had the advantage of being 500 miles away in a different state.

At MSU, I made it home every few weekends and called home a lot. Lois thought more separation would be good for me, so I applied to NNC and was accepted for the 1965 fall term.

I didn't discuss this too much with the folks, though Mom knew of my plans, and I was pleasantly surprised when Dad broached the idea that it might be better for me to go to a different school that was further away. I don't know if Mom had coached him, but when I told him of my NNC plans he didn't seem too surprised. I suspect Dad felt I was too much of a Momma's boy and needed to cut the apron strings. I also suspect he was right!

Mom had always been quite protective of me and kept me on a pretty short leash when she could and my rocky relationship with Dad hadn't helped. I still remember a fight he had with Mom over wanting me to work at Darel's more than I did, and his slamming out of the house yelling that she better teach me how to cook & sew if she wasn't going to let me learn to work with him.

I was pretty mad at him for that, but looking back I see his point, but he never made any noticeable effort to make working with him a pleasant learning experience.

I gotta admit, though, working with him was great preparation for Boot Camp later on. By that time I was used to keeping my mouth shut while being yelled at!

Anyway, that September he & Mom loaded me and my stuff into my car and we headed over Lolo pass for Nampa and a new learning curve. The next two years taught me a lot!

The lessons started with that trip. I drove my little Falcon down there and got 16mpg, Dad drove it back to Montana and got 26mpg. The difference was in the driver! (I still don't get good gas mileage from my rigs - I love horsepower and speed way too much. Dad babied all his mechanical possessions, was meticulous with their maintenance and gentle in their use. His old farm truck is over 50 years old and still in use!)

Anyway - NNC!

We found the campus and located the freshman dorm, then Dad dumped me and my stuff on the sidewalk and left. Time to sink or swim, and maybe time to sort out the boys from the men.

TBC


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Saturday March 8, 2008 - 10:29am (MST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
HOM: Methane
My brains serves up memories the way a bog serves up swamp gas, in random bubbles that smell funny. Here are some vaguely related events that churned up in memory when I was laying awake last night.

Hunting alone on the "island" in Church Slough one brilliant autumn evening, mostly just admiring the leaves and poking around, I saw an oddly shaped stick in the grass and leaves ahead. I didn't pay much attention to it till I was beside it - and it sprouted wings and took off under my feet. It was a grouse, who was either thinking it was hidden or was as inattentive to the surroundings as I was. I never got off a shot at it...

That island had a hidden treasure - tucked away in the woods was an old crab apple tree, and in the fall it had the sweetest, juiciest apples I have ever tasted. Alone or with Paul, I visited it every chance I got and loaded up on the fruit. I wonder if it is still there?

Dad saw a bunch of pheasants fly into the narrow spit of land between the slough & the river behind what is now Jellar's. He got me, and had me take the boat down to the slough entrance while he walked back through the woods with the dog. The plan was that the birds would flush past me and one of us would get a shot.

I got in position on the bank and was waiting for action when I heard running feet. Thinking it was Julie, the dog, I relaxed, but it was a big doe that burst into sight. She saw me at about ten feet, spun a ninety degree turn and leaped for the river. Reflexes took over and I swung the shotgun like she was a bird taking off and fired. She somersaulted into the river, dead, so I drug her out and waited for Dad. I heard him shoot once, and in a bit he and the dog came walking up with a pheasant they had gotten.

When he asked me if I got anything, I told him I had bagged a big hen - when he saw the deer, he dropped the bird he was carrying!

This was the second shotgunned deer I know of out there. I bird-hunted the island once with friend Billy D, who jumped a doe at close range and reflexively nailed it with his shotgun. The trouble was, season hadn't quite opened yet and it was a couple of scared kids who snuck the deer home to be eaten.

As long as we are talking about illicit food - I remember Gladys telling me of a couple of Vic's escapades.

They needed meat, and there were a lot of deer on their farm up by Columbia Falls, so one night Vic decided to poach one. He made a bad shot! The wounded deer ran over into a neighbor's yard and died and they went hungry.

He tried again, using a flashlight, when a fat young doe was eating apples out of the tree in his field. He flipped on the light, shot, the deer dropped, he flipped the light off, put the gun down, grabbed his knife and took off at a dead run in the dark to make sure it was dead.

Gladys heard his pounding feet, then a meaty "THUD", a crash, and some retching wheezing sounds, so she ran out - and found out that Vic, still night-blind from the flashlight, had run into the three-point hitch on an implement. The hitch knocked the wind out of him and he was moving fast enough that he tipped the implement over.

They got the meat they needed, but Vic wasn't sure it was worth it!

When he was young, Vic used to fish through the ice on the river east of our house. Being optimistic about the size of the fish, he cut a huge hole in the ice, then gathered up his gear and went running out, slipped, and fell into the water through the hole he just made. Luckily he came back to the surface in the hole and not under the ice, but the temperature was well below freezing so he had to take off at a hard run for home to keep from freezing after he struggled out.

Since writing of Vic is stirring up a few more bubbles about him, I might as well put them down before they get lost in the atmosphere.

Vic was passed over for military service in WWII. The doctors said he had a heart murmur and would not take him.

This always bothered Vic, being left behind at a time when so many of his friends and neighbors were off defending their country.

One of his friends who did go, and came back, was Bud Stewart. Bud was a friend of Mom's too, and was a very tough man. Like Vic, he was a good friend and a deadly enemy.

Bud was having coffee with Mom when she saw some trespassers out in the field. When she went out and asked them to leave, Bud was right behind her with his shotgun, and the trespassers were quick to leave.

Bud was in the Pacific, and never told me many details of what he saw and did, but what he did tell me was fairly unforgettable. His one regret was thet he never had a good clear shot at General MacArthur!

Bud was the one that always loaned Vic his ten gauge double barrel for goose hunting, but didn't warn him that it could go off when it wasn't supposed to. Vic was standing by me when he dropped a pair of shells into the gun, and when he snapped it shut both barrels went off. No damage done, except to Vic's hand from recoil and both our systems from shock.

TBC
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Friday March 7, 2008 - 05:30pm (MST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
Power Hammer
Like Grampa used:



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Friday March 7, 2008 - 10:26am (MST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments

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