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Back on the Firing Line
What About Dilcon?
Goodness Gracious! Has it been that long since the Grouch has been in the bundle? But I did have one started at Sky Valley last winter. Oh, dear, now I have to explain that, don’t I? Why don’t we start at the beginning, at about the time we last contributed to the bundle?
The job at Dilcon finally came to a screeching halt about the middle of July and on the 15th we pointed the Ford and Prowler down I-17 toward Phoenix and Tucson. In Phoenix I-17 suddenly became I-10 but that didn’t matter because it was a result of highway department paper work… it was still the same highway. We were going to Tucson to formally say “So Long” to Gary and Val Schneider, the construction superintendent we had worked with for so long at Dilcon. Gary’s boss lives there too, so we also included Bill and Marge Cleveland in our good byes. They were a fine group and we’ll miss them. However, as the Romans used to say, “Time Fidgets” and we had a lot of road to travel and a lot of strange faces to make friends with.
Silver City, New Mexico
Isn’t it strange that right after mentioning “strange faces” that I should report on our stop at the Moitorets. I guess the strange faces in this case would be those we met before we got to the Moitorets.
When we got to Lordsburg we left I-10, turning the rig toward the north and Silver City. We had gone about halfway when a loud report from the rear indicated that one of our trailer tires had disintegrated. I can’t think of an uglier sound to assault the ears than the “flap-flap-flap” of a blown tire. The end result was that we backed the trailer off the road, removed the offending wheel, threw it in the back of the pickup and headed for Silver City and a tire that would hold air. So you see, we really did run into some strange faces. We also paid for the experience… tires cost money, you know.
Later, we met with the Moitorets, had a wonderful visit and then it was down the road again. Vic had suggested that if we were taking a direct route to Austin we would leave I-10, which we would regain in Deming, New Mexico, and go through Fredericksburg, where they had a fine museum about the life and times of Admiral Chester Nimitz. Vic, we owe you one for that suggestion, it was enjoyable.
Austin, Where’s That?
This time we had no trouble finding the two Hagemans who had migrated to Texas. Ken and George were renting a pretty nice place somewhere in the northwest suburbs of Austin and they had been watching and waiting for us for a week or more. They thought, apparently, that when we left Dilcon we would be in a hurry to get to Texas. Believe me, there is no reason to hurry to Texas. That is, other than to see two sons who showed the bad taste to move there.
Where did we go wrong?
As it turned out, they were in fine fettle, as they say, and were not showing any of the usual symptoms of people who “come” from Texas. Well, yes, there was one symptom that was beginning to become evident and that was their tendency to exaggerate. Now, I wouldn’t really call it lying but their sense of proportion is somewhat warped.
We had a nice visit, went swimming with them and picnicking down on the lake but all in all, time was flitting and so should we. We pointed the Ford northward.
Through Okieland to Missouri
Yes, north from Austin takes you through Dallas and into Oklahoma City. We found a real nice cafeteria in a shopping center where we had lunch and then it was onward and eastward to Tulsa where we found a KOA with a swimming pool. We tied up there for the night and went swimming. The humidity, which hadn’t been too bad yet, was beginning to pick up a bit and the next morning we put the truck in gear. We were headed for Missouri.
The next day we were still going eastward, heading for Saint Louis and another go at the Jefferson Memorial. This is that huge stainless steel arch that stands parallel to the Mississippi River. If you haven’t been yet then, by all means, you should. Considering it is commemorating the opening of the west only a vast structure such as the arch could really do it justice. At 630 feet above the grounds that surround it, it has to be the most momentous man-made public structure we’ve seen yet.
But…
The Land of Lincoln
The Fred Herr’s of Modesto, Illinois, were the next to throw out the “Welcome” mat for us. In fact, we got there just in time to become involved in a mini-family reunion at a relative’s home nearby. We met cousins by the dozens and had a glorious time… as well as throwing the diet for a loss.
While in Waverly one day to get a haircut a group of farmers were also waiting to be shorn. The topic of conversation? What else but the state of the farms, farmers, and related ilk. They were commenting on the conditions of the drought to the west of them in contrast to the wonderful growing season they were having and this then led up to a discussion on the farm situation in general. I think the conversation was pretty well summed up with one gentleman’s thoughts: “I don’t know why they are looking to the government to solve their problem. It appears to me the government IS THEIR problem.”
Leaving there we went through Springfield on our way to Cincinnati…
Haff You Effer Been to Zinzinnati?
I believe that was the title of an old vaudeville song and it seemed quite appropriate at this point. There is, I’ve heard, an old comic’s law that if you can work in cities with names starting with “Z” or “K” it is almost assured of getting a laugh. But then a lot of people are always telling me strange things.
One good reason to go to Cincinnati, of course, was to visit NAPA’s librarian and one of the Grouch’s pen pals. We arrived in Milford at the advertised place to find that George Gray was not at home. After a short wait a little toy car (one of the subcompacts, not really a toy) pulled in beside us. So that’s what the real George Gray is like?
She was in the final throes of a moving sale and her yard was still littered with Junque. Rosella looked around and spotted a steel folding chair which she determined, by some unknown logic, that we needed in our fifth wheel. Ergo, it was ours to keep and to cherish, if those are the right words to express yard sale acquisitions.
George (I still have trouble connecting that name with such a gracious hostess) took us around town, showed us all the usual touristy things and then introduced us to “Cincinnati Chili.” Unusual and unique. We enjoyed it but why did it take George so long to change her official address? She moved out of there a long time ago.
We Missed the Bill Boys
Out of town and across the Ohio River is Kentucky, which we crossed easily and then into Tennessee. In Knoxville I became worried about the other three trailer tires (remember we had a leaky one in New Mexico?) so we pulled into a shopping center and looked in at a Western Auto Store. No, it was not that I was such a fan of WA’s tires, but they had a large parking lot. When you have a 35-foot tail wagging somewhere back there, large parking lots are a must. To shorten a long story, we bought three more tires.
We called the Bill Boys while we were in that part of the country but all we got was a stupid machine that told us they weren’t home. Shucks, I’d have found that out soon enough if no one answered the phone after eight rings. Gee, just think what they missed….
* * * *
If the iron in your blood appears to be a bit rusty, do not fear. It’s only because you are probably “carnivorust.”
On to Greenbelt
We were not able to spend as much time in that part of the country that we would have liked to. Summer was waning rapidly and we had many miles to go yet. So it was on to Greenbelt to see what Melody and Dave had been doing to keep out of trouble… and that also applies to Jake and Leah. To facilitate this we stopped at Cherryhill Campground on the northeast side of Washington, DC, at an area known locally as College Park. (Bill Gordon says he remembers this place well because he and Elza stopped there on one of their safaris.)
We were there several weeks which gave us an excellent opportunity to do the sites in Washington and Baltimore, which included a trip to Mount Vernon and also to a famous Civil War battlefield, Manassas. Later, when describing the battlefield to Melody she thought it was hilarious that her father should visit, of all places, BULL RUN. I hope Dave strikes that girl for me some time.
One of the reasons we stayed so long was that Melody wanted us to be sure and stay long enough so we could go to dinner with the Warners and, of all people, the Bill Boys. Of course, we could tell you that they were so disappointed because they missed us in Tennessee they ran like crazy to catch up with us. Yes, we could say that but the truth will out… the Boys were there because of a Naval function they were to attend.
Cheryl Takes Us to Baltimore
NAPA’s Recorder, Cheryl Parker in addition to being charming and attractive, is a very accommodating girl. She loaded us into her car, drove us to Baltimore and showed us the sights. First, we went to the old B & O roadhouse which has been converted into a railroad museum. This is a site to make an old train buff twitch and the spelling of that word was intentional. That “site” is a “sight.” They have rolling stock there that goes back before the Civil War. There is also a model train setup operating while we were there. Then to top it off we had lunch in a railroad diner in the back yard. Very interesting.
Following that she took us over to a Graphic Arts Museum run by a printer whose shop is around the corner. In the basement he has a bargain shop where printing supplies can be purchased very reasonably. I bought some Stymie, 18 point, extra bold and a few cuts that are slated to be printed in a future issue of the Tonto Basin Review.
Incidentally, Baltimore’s showcase, “Inner Harbor,” is also worth taking a look at. They have gone to great lengths to clean up the waterfront and turn it into a tourist attraction that is worthy of your interest.
Mechanicsburg and Turnbaugh
After having purchased so much material from Turnbaugh Printers Supply I couldn’t go so close and not stop in and see the old boy. It was a bit difficult to find, being tucked away in the wilds of Mechanicsburg, but we sniffed it out and was pleasantly surprised.
In four or five connected buildings he has printing equipment you wouldn’t believe. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to the way he has the stuff warehoused but he seems to know where everything is. I bought a spider chase for my 12 x 18 C & P and a package of cuts and engravings.
He told me he was planning to sell out and retire but he didn’t make a flat offer. Later, after checking our mail one time this spring we found one of his usual flyers. On the first page he is making his pitch to get out of the business. If I was twenty years younger it might be tempting.
* * * *
Did you know that old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill? Works every time.
On to New York State
There were several reasons for going in this direction. I am somewhat of a history buff and having read a number of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novels and being familiar with the “Green Mountain Boys,” I had to look in on Lake Ticonderoga, Lake George and the biggee, Lake Champlain. Besides, upstate New York is the lair of those two indomitable spirits, Al Fick at Amsterdam and Tod Cowles in Burlington, Vermont. Now, you’ll ask, how did Burlington, Vermont get into upstate New York?
I refuse to divulge any of my secrets.
After passing over mile after mile of single lane freeway, we finally passed out of Pennsylvania and came to rest for the night at a little town called Bainbridge, in a KOA near there. Here was where I put in a call to the Ficks to see if they would be home. The Ficks had so many problems, Al’s glaucoma, a lawsuit, and trying to get an estate settled, that Alma begged off any entertaining. With a fistfull like that I can’t really blame her but it was a big disappointment. We forged on to Lake George and found another KOA at Lake Luzerne, NY.
Sixteen Miles of Tourist Traps
It might not be quite that much but when you start down the avenue they seem to go on and on forever and ever.
Lake George and environs apparently are the playground for New York City. This was Labor Day weekend and it was wall to wall people. The hot dog and hamburger places were doing a land office business and so were the souvenir shops and related ilk. Strangely enough, when we went back downtown on Tuesday, after a hectic Labor Day, there was no one around. Half the shops were closed for the season and only a tiny fraction of the people still milled around down there, somewhat vacant eyed, as though they couldn’t figure out where everyone went so suddenly.
However, while we were there we did manage to do all the touristy things like, Fort William Henry, Fort Ticonderoga, Whitehall (the birthplace of the US Navy and 200 miles from the sea) and we even drove down to look over Saratoga and its horse racing museum.
At Whitehall I marveled at the Champlain Barge Canal. In this day of D8 dozers, massive earthmovers and the like, this would have been a big project but when you look back several hundred years you realize it was all grunt labor and that makes it a truly massive undertaking.
But time was flitting and so must we….
Stillwater, Maine
Back in 1943 I made the acquaintance of Al Barden, another Tech Sergeant, who like myself was whiling away World War II in Fort Jackson, S. C. He and his wife, Libby, and their small daughter, GeeGee, lived off-base and I occasionally had dinner with them. During all the intervening years since then we have kept in contact… from opposite sides of the continent. When we were packing to start this safari their name was high on the list of places we must visit… and we even gave them fair warning we were coming.
Unfortunately, Al had passed away before we could get there. However, Libby was impatiently waiting for us. I say “impatiently” because she knew we were coming but she didn’t know when and summer was disappearing. At any rate, we got there, got a royal welcome, and then we went touring.
We drove Libby’s car and visited Mount Cadillac, Bar Harbor, and a dozen places in between. We even visited one of the twins, Howie, who was born at Fort Jackson. We had fresh, steamed lobster and roasting ears, fresh from Libby’s huge garden. It was a wonderful break in the trip. It was the first time I had seen her in forty odd years and Rosella had never met her but enjoyed their Christmas letters each year.
Fate moves in some mysterious circles, doesn’t it? We were there in September and we were nonplussed when we didn’t receive the usual Christmas letter. In January it came, with an explanation from the family… Libby had sickened and passed away quite suddenly a week before Christmas.
We Visit the Office of The Gage Pin
Fred Gage told over the telephone, “It’s a yellow house with a blue spruce.” and it was. However, he didn’t tell us that Minot Avenue was so darn long. (It seems to me there is another Minot in my history. Oh, yes, that’s where that ugly railroad bull threw Hugh Thomas and I off the Great Northern in 1934 when we were on our way to the Chicago World’s Fair.)
Don’t I digress easily?
At any rate, we found the place and we found the Gage’s. Mrs. Gage did not stay with us because this was her bowling night, the first of the season, and I think she said she was the secretary. We did have a good gabfest with Fred, though, and he even let us into the basement to look over the home of The Gage Pin. Then he pulled out a large box of cuts which he claimed his daughter had found at a yard sale. He shared them with us and I got some good ones to use in the Tonto Basin Review.
But, once again, it is over the hill and through the woods.
Why am I always so depressed after a go-around with Social Security? I guess it is because I get to thinking that if the rest of the government is like they are then we are truly in deep, DEEP trouble.
* * * *
New Britain, Connecticut
Another old buddy from my Fort Jackson days lived in New Britain, Connecticut. I had lost his address quite a while ago and when we were in Stillwater, Libby gave me his address. A phone call to Ray McCann assured us that he was not only alive but taking nourishment regularly. Ray’s first words, when I identified myself on the telephone, were:
“Where’n’ell have you been? I even had a lawyer looking for you!!” (I didn’t bother to tell him that I’ve had several lawyers looking for me from time to time.)
We left the trailer where we had tied it down and drove in to meet him and Louise. They were another couple who had lived off the post. Ray could make the best spaghetti sauce and occasionally he’d whomp up a dish of it. I would find a bottle of some kind of spirits (during the war you sort of took pot luck when it came to spirits) and we’d spend an evening stuffing on spaghetti and getting gloriously soused.
I’m afraid that is a practice we have both given up.
Ray is a clock fancier and appraiser. He has a basement full of old clocks, clock parts, and other related paraphernalia. He even has a big, old grandfather clock laying on its side in the basement because he doesn’t have a room tall enough to stand it in. If the chimes are as large as the clock it is probably just as well that it isn’t running. It would probably take his windows out every time it struck the hours.
Back to Greenbelt
It would be getting fallish in New England very shortly and we still had many miles to go. On our way south to Florida we pulled into Cherry Hill Campground again and let Melody and Dave know we were once more back in their country.
We were developing a damp spot around the toilet in the trailer. Reluctantly, I finally had to do something about it and I pulled the toilet up to find that the foot valve had worn out and each time it was flushed a bit of fresh water would escape. In the process of fixing it I did something else that was newsworthy… I dropped my flashlight in the holding tank. Repeated efforts to retrieve it were fruitless but it does have one advantage that way… If I ever need a flashlight I know where I can find one.
We stayed there long enough for Rosella to get her teeth fixed… no, I did not whang her in the teeth, although there have probably been times… never mind. A week later we were on the road again… still going south.
We Played Tag With Hurricane Gloria
When we got to South Carolina I felt I should look up another old Army buddy, Cecil Hatfield. Cecil was a Chief Warrant Officer and was the leader of our inspection team. He and I (I was his ranking non-com) ran the Inspector General’s personal record inspection team. He had often bragged of being directly descended from the Hatfields of the “Hatfields and McCoys Fued.” At any rate, we arrived in Summerton and I went looking. I had quite a time locating anyone in that small town who knew him but I was finally directed to an elderly gentleman who, reportedly, had been chummy with him.
“Yes, I knew him, alright, but you’re about two years too late. Cecil has passed away.” I guess I should have expected it but it was still quite a downer.
About this time Hurricane Gloria was making her presence known out in the ocean and there was a possibility she might cross our path between Summerton and Jacksonville. To be safe, we turned north, went through Columbia, South Carolina and turned west toward Atlanta. Columbia, some of you might know, is the home of Fort Jackson. I thought and thought but I couldn’t remember a single thing I had lost in Fort Jackson, except for a few years out of my life.
We turned south again at Atlanta. Gloria would not have crossed our path after all.
* * * *
If you’re not confused around here you’re simply not trying hard enough.
Disney World and Epcot Center
I guess I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Disney World was a washed out copy of Disneyland. It was almost the same thing only on more real estate. Not only was I disappointed but the humidity was beginning to get to me. When the walls of the trailer start to get slimy and even the toilet paper felt second hand… man, that’s the time to think of something else… like pointing the trailer toward the desert.
However, before we left we did spend several wonderful days in Epcot Center. That is a learning experience and I enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, I have been to several World’s Fairs and any one of them would have been proud to have had that whole thing set down on their grounds.
But it was mid-October and time we were pushing on. Ken and George were expecting us back in Austin.
It’s a Long Ways from Jacksonville to the Desert
We stormed the fort in St. Augustine, Fort San Marcos, that is. There has been a fort on that location since about 1657 and that’s a long time on anyone’s calendar. It has been replaced several times but the present structure dates from the late 1700’s, if memory serves me correctly.
St. Augustine is a neat place to visit and the two days we were there the humidity wasn’t as bad as at other times. There are many old houses in that town but we couldn’t see them all so we decided to head for Jacksonville.
Jacksonville, Florida, is the eastern terminus of I-10 and it occurred to us that if we stayed on I-10 until we got to San Antonio we would have, at various times, driven on all of I-10 from Los Angeles to Jacksonville. I’m not exactly sure what we have gained with that knowledge but there must be a recorded history somewhere that lists information like that. I’m sure it must be impressive. Come to think of it if we would just complete a section between San Diego and the Mexican border, we could say the same thing about I-5.
Really, now, aren’t you impressed just a little?
After a stay with the boys again in Austin we wrote ahead to Sky Valley Parks in Desert Hot Springs, California, for a spot in their park. We left Austin on November 1st and California was a “fur piece” down the road.
We made a stop in Apple Valley, California, to see our nephew and his wife, Kerrie, but what was only to be an overnight stop turned into a five day wait. A Pacific storm rolled in and turned Cajon Pass into a skating rink but by November 15 we were tying down the trailer in Sky Valley, back on the desert, at last, where everything was dried out.
Sky Valley to Yakina… Why?
When I left Dilcon I told my boss that if he had any short jobs that I would be happy to consider them. In December they called and told of a Federal Building remodel that was to start in Yakima, Washington. It would only last a year and would I take it? No, I said to their repeated pleas… but then, they offered me money and from then on it was no contest.
We moved to Yakima in April after a short visit in Kennewick and the job got off the ground on April 9th. But guess what? Two weeks later I noticed a cloud in my left eye. It grew and grew until I was almost blind then the doctor told me why. My retina had detached. A quick trip to Seattle’s University Hospital and it, supposedly, was as good as new. Well, I can’t see very much out of it yet but it is clearing up gradually. If I just had a bit more patience. However, it seems that I am now the answer to a contractor’s prayer… a half blind inspector.
This is a historical building and as everyone knows that means that even the dirt is sacred. In spite of them, though, we will get it renovated but I won’t see the end of it. You see, I only promised to stay until October 1st, then we point the trailer back to Desert Hot Springs.
Yes, this is one of those awful computer jobs. Sorry about that but you have to take the sour with the sweet, or should that be the other way around. Not only is it a computer job but it is also printed on a copier by
Jack and Rosella Hageman
Yakima, Washington 98907