Tag Archives: stories

Blaming the world for my poor decision

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When I was in college I used to hitchhike home some weekends. It was seventy miles one way, and split between two states. I did not mind hitchhiking so much as I was going home which beat the heck out of staying in the dorm for another weekend.

Some of the trips were okay, and some were good. The best rides I had usually came from Marine Corp recruiters. I knew when they picked me up, I would be a captive audience for a recruitment spiel that lasted as long as the Marine recruiter was heading in the direction I was going. Usually the talk ended with something along the line of, “How about you come down to the office and take our test?” Of course I respectfully declined.

Even though it was one main highway from college to the city where I lived, it was rare to catch one ride straight though. Most people would pick me up in one little town and tell me they were only going to the next little town. That was okay with me, the variety of people who where willing to pick up a teenage hitch hiker was always interesting. They were mostly working people, and I imagine, knew what life was like without a car.

I had hitched rides since I was a kid. Living in the country, it made for more play time if I could catch a ride to my friends homes who lived a mile or two away. Some drivers were a little strange, and maybe had strange ideas, but I never had any problems even as a kid. I always thought hitching rides was fun, and a cheap easy way to get around. That was a long time ago…

One night hitching home from college stands out in my mind. I could not leave as early as I wanted to. I left around dinner time which is a bad time to catch a ride in rural areas as most people were eating dinner. I walked about two miles before I caught my first ride.

My first ride was a good one, they took me about twenty five miles before they arrived where they were going. I thought it would be a quick trip. Catch another ride, and most of the trip would be over. I did not plan on the weather though.

As I walked along putting my thumb out when cars were heading in my direction, it became cloudy and dark. The sun had gone down. That was not a problem normally, but this night the clouds blocked out any light from the moon and stars. The lack of starlight at least made it very dark.

A mile later and three cars later, I was still walking, and it started to rain. Of course being a footloose college kid, I had no rain jacket. Because it was early fall, the rain was not warm. I walked nine more miles being passed by a number of cars which either did not see me, or did not want to pick up a soggy rider, and get their car all wet.

By this time I was getting tired and the rain was really coming down. A car came up from behind me, slowed and pulled over. I thought at last I have a ride! The car had out of state plates so I figured it was a salesman. They were good company. I sloshed up to the car, and opened the door.

He took one look at me and said, “You are all wet!” I said, “Yes, of course, I walked the last nine miles.” He said, “Well I can’t let you in, please close the door.” What could I do but close the door and watch him drive off, leaving me behind.

I became angry. I was tired, hungry, and getting cold. I railed against the weather. I yelled about how much walking I had done. I yelled, and then yelled some more. Then I stopped yelling. In the midst of my yelling, I realized there was no one listening. There was also no one to blame for my predicament but myself, and besides myself, there was no one out there on the empty highway to care.

I resigned myself to walking the rest of the night, and let my anger go, as it was not accomplishing anything. Less than a minute later, a car pulled over and dropped me off within a few minutes walking time of my house. Such is life.

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Full moons, walking, and being scared of nothing

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It is another full moon tonight! When I lived in Minnesota, I loved full moons in the winter months. The moon would be so huge, it always seemed bigger in the winter months for some reason. Maybe because the air was so clear the moon just sort of take s over the sky. Of course there would be snow on the ground. After ten o’clock or so I could go outside and it would be light enough it seemed like a strange day time, instead of night.

We used to do a lot of playing outside on full moon nights. In the winter it would be bright enough to sled, or ski, if what we did could be called skiing. In the summer full moon nights were good nights to play hide go seek as it was dark, but it was still light enough you were able to see so you didn’t hurt yourself running into anything.

When I was in the Air Force, I spent some years as a Security Policeman. Security Police are the Army of the Air Force. It was our job to protect aircraft and other important resources. At the base I was stationed at we had a munitions storage area we were charged with protecting. It was a lot of semi-earthed over buildings with something in them. There would be one man assigned to that area at night. He would be called every so often by radio to ensure all was well.

There were about forty men on my flight and most of us would take turns guarding the munitions area. Except the guys that were scared of the Viking Ghost. They were never sent in there at night because they were too scared to walk around in the darkness and ensure everything was at it should be. I was told he was very big, a little over six feet and he carried a sword and shield and wore a helmut with horns on it.

I never saw the Viking Ghost when I was assigned there, but about six of the forty guys had, or claimed to have seen the ghost and would not work there. I always found the idea kind of funny though. Here is a highly trained man with an M16 rifle, over one hundred rounds of ammunition, flak jacket, helmut, and who knows what else, and they were scared of a ghost! I could understand their fear if they were unarmed, without any communication, and all alone, but help was on a few seconds away if it were ever needed.

One night a man named Fox and myself were assigned together in an area. I had found a book in the library about demonic possession. After I read it and scared the heck out of myself, I told Fox about it. Fox was also a reader, so I hoped he would read it. So there we were on a full moon night talking about this book, and watching our area. As we discussed the book I could tell we were both getting a little nervous as we stared out the truck windshield into the night.

About twenty minutes into the conversation I looked at Fox, and he looked at me. The way the moon was lighting his face made him look surreal. He thought the same thing, because in an instant we were both out of the truck an standing on the ground staring at each other. After we reassured each other we weren’t possessed, and were normal, we got back into the truck and found something else to talk about. That conversation held in the daytime would have amounted to nothing.

When I did not live in rattlesnake country, I used to enjoy walking in the woods during full moons on well known paths. It was always peaceful, and sometimes I would get to see animals I do not normally see like Raccoons and Skunks. The Skunks at least always look real friendly, but the idea of them carrying rabies was enough for me to keep my distance. In all those decades of walking at night, I have never come across anything that was not made of flesh and blood. On most nights, walking on a full moon away from a city is very peaceful and relaxing. Cities are a little different of course….

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Canoeing and decision making in the BWCA

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As a kid in the sixties, I sold chocolate thin mints each winter to go to a YMCA Camp each summer. Once I reached a certain age, I was able to go on a canoe trip up to the Minnesota Boundary Waters Canoe Area for a ten day trip. One year was especially memorable thanks to the other boys I was with.

There were two boys from Sweden along for this trip, and I was lucky enough to share a tent and a canoe with them for the trip. They spoke acceptable english. The only Swedish I knew was a few words that my family used, and they were not words that would help on the trip, so I left them home.

Freeze dried food was recently affordable, so that is what we ate for most of the trip. Freeze dried eggs, freeze dried something made with beef heart for dinner. Lunch time was unique though. After paddling a canoe all morning on that wonderful meal of freeze dried eggs, and water, lunch was a veritable feast!

Lunch was four pieces of Rye Crisp, which are small crackers made out of rye flour. One those four pieces of Rye Crisp was the treat for the day. One piece had peanut butter, a second piece had jelly, and the other two pieces had a slice Spam between them. This came with a glass of Kool Aid to drink! By the third day we all felt like kings, eating such a great lunch!

The way to get around the BWCA, is you paddle your canoe from an entry spot to an exit called a portage which went to another lake or river. The portages were not fun. It meant carrying a seventy pound canoe, a back pack almost as heavy, or the paddles and life preservers, and anything else that needed carrying. This was carried through the woods and swarms of starving mosquitoes, and deer flies. By the third day, you rarely noticed the bug any longer because you were bitten so many times already, a few more bites did not matter.

There were another type of portage we came across too. This portage was unique to the rivers we would travel on. Paddling down a river we would see a posted sign that would read, ‘Dangerous Water Use Portage’. That sign meant what it said, usually some very rough water that a canoe was not built for. Generally these signs meant we would pull in, unpack, haul everything around the rapids, put the canoe back in the water, repack, and continue.

We started to notice that some of the rapids, were not so dangerous that they could not be navigated, especially by ‘professionals’ such as ourselves. Being kids, and having no leaders present to make decisions for us, we saw others in our group who paddled down the rapids instead of portaging around. We talked it over, and decided that if they could do it, we could too.

One afternoon, I was the bow paddler, one boy who was duffer (in the middle, enjoying the ride), and a boy named Jon Sebinas was in the back paddling, and steering for us. We were on a river and had ran some portage sign rapids. We were doing well, and had not bothered to portage. We were discussing perhaps they were feeling extra cautious on this river when they put up the signs because the rapids were not that bad.

We went around a bend, and there was a portage sign. We could not see anything, and Jon stood up in the back of the canoe, and said to us, “Oh ya, ve can make it.” It looked fast but simple from my bow view, and the duffer agreed too. The water moved faster, and there were boulders to miss as we shot down the river, but it was fairly easy. Then I noticed the river sort of disappeared about fifty yards ahead. Waterfall! It was a painful drop, and we spent the next few nights sleeping in wet sleeping bags.

Over the years, I use that day, and result as a decision helper in my life. Oh ya, ve can make it, rings through my head on many occasions when I find I am feeling nervous.

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Only the best Christmas for you!

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It is soon to be Christmas, so my blogging may be a little erratic over the next few days. I have really enjoyed blogging this far (all two months, lol), and I hope it continues. One of the neatest things that has come out of blogging is I have read more blogs in the last few weeks than I have read since blogging started. Some of them very good, and well thought out. If I have read your blog, I want you to know I am happy to have had the opportunity, it is like having Christmas early. Most of you are amazing people judging by your blogs.!

Some of you are also very good writers. A few of you very good writers have taken the time to visit my blog, and have left comments. I hope it never gets to be ‘old hat’ for me, both the blogging, and the comments you leave. I don’t see that happening, at least not getting excited when someone takes the time to say something about my blog – hopefully positive. Thank you for your comments, they are very much appreciated!

I have seen my share of Christmases over the years, some good, and some not so good. Fortunately for us, our minds tends to smooth out the bad things, and make the good things better in our memories.

The first year I understood the concept of Santa Claus, was the same year a teenage neighbor across the street was given a Vespa scooter by his folks. I told Santa in secret that was what I wanted, and the only thing I wanted. I told Santa he could put it in the garage cum barn. I was not a happy little boy when Christmas rolled around, and there was no Vespa for me. Never mind, I must have been all of three or four.

I remember a few really great Christmases too. What made them great was the winter weather would be nice that day, along with my folks, and most of my cousins at my aunt and uncles house for Christmas dinner. Us kids would be told to go outside for the afternoon. There was playing in the snow at first, but as we grew older, there was sledding and miracle of miracles, a snow mobile! Then there was the trip to the other cousin’s for a night of playing and fun, and food! Those were great times when I was a child.

I remember one year, when the celebrating started early with my folks. We were driving out to another aunt and uncles house, and my Dad decided some poor kid all alone in a gate shack at the Air Base on the way would be happier if he stopped and offered him a drink, and a Merry Christmas. The Airman didn’t know whether to be thankful, or arrest, and possibly shoot us. Luckily for us, he realized my Dad’s intentions were good and let us go without incident.

When I grew up there were the Christmases with kids. The first belonged to a cousin I shared a house with. The second year, I could not wait for the kids to go to bed, so she would take out the kids’ presents to be put together. We would put them together and play with them most of the night! It was so much fun at the time. It was like the clock turned back during the night and we were kids again too for a few hours. It was better with my own children, and I miss those times.

I can’t say why, but this is the first Christmas in years where I am really enjoying the excitement of Christmas. It is also another year, when I can say almost everything I would want for Christmas has happened over the last year. Great memories, and good times, what more could I possibly want. Well there are always those toys I can’t afford, but that is a different matter…

As you read this, I want you to know I hope you feel content, and complete this Christmas too. I hope all of life’s joys either have come into your life, or they are on their way in a few days.
If you aren’t quite there yet, hang on! There are a lot of special gifts life is sending your way. Life’s postman is stuck somewhere in the snow is all. Merry Christmas!

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Female hero saves son, lifts truck while men watch!

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I never learned this woman’s name, and I never saw her before, or after, but what I did see her do was incredible! I do not think she could ever do it again. I doubt she even realized she was doing it as it happened. There were no pictures taken, it never made the paper, or the six o’clock news. For about thirty an unknown woman was a full fledged hero, and a life saver!

There was an accident at a corner close to where we were playing one afternoon. A boy was hit by a full size pickup truck. It was not a new compact, but a truck from the sixties when vehicle weight was not an issue. I did not see how the accident happened, but a boy was pinned under the truck, and in considerable pain.

From across the street, a woman showed up crying; she was the boy’s mother. She ran over to the truck and kneeled down on the blacktop and looked at her boy, pinned beneath the vehicle. She wanted to pull him out, but he was pinned, and it was not possible.

Without a seconds hesitation the woman stood up, and faced the front bumper of the truck. She bent down and reached under the bumper. She stood up, and the front of the truck lifted with her! She stood there looking almost calm holding the front end of this pick up truck in the air. She looked towards two men standing close to her and told them, “Pull my son out from under the truck.”

The men were frozen in place at the sight, but then sprung into action and pulled the boy from underneath the truck. When the boy was clear the woman lowered the truck. Minutes later an ambulance showed up. They inspected the boy, put him on a board, then on a cot, and into the ambulance. The woman climbed in, the door was closed and the ambulance left.

If anyone had told me this story, I would be hard pressed to believe it. An average five foot something woman lifting the front end of a pickup truck off the ground just isn’t done. Yet things like this are done all the time. People everywhere do things that require something they think they could not do, yet they do it anyway.

I do not think this woman would ever be able to lift a truck for anyone other than her own son. I also know for those few seconds she was a true hero! Beside the fact that it was her son, she acted without thinking for a second that she could not lift the truck one half inch, let alone almost six inches off the ground! It never entered her mind that she could be crippled in the attempt. She simply acted without thinking of herself.

While we may never have an opportunity to be a hero at that level, we all have chances to be heroes or heroines. Every time we are out in public, people are watching us, judging us, and rating us on their personal scale. It is these times where we can be heroic even if it is only a small amount of heroism we display. Give it a try tomorrow. Tell yourself before going to sleep tonight that you are going to actively look for an opportunity to do something good for someone. You will be surprised how many chances you have, and how easy it is. After a few times, you will know that it feels better being a small time hero, than pretending you do not see someone needing your help.

I never saw the boy or the woman again, it happened in my neighborhood, but they were not part of it. I would like to think that because of the woman, the boy was okay. I would also like to think the woman was okay, and did not hurt herself saving her son.

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