wings

Airplane owners are an interesting group.

That is my observation. I surely do not know a huge number of airplane owners, but the ones I have known are at least interesting.

My father is a case in point.

Airplanes are regularly inspected. That is why there are a lot of 50 or 60 years old planes in the air, flying safely. The inspector tells the owner what has to be done (the owner probably knew ahead of time) and the a certified mechanic is required to do the work and sign off before the plane is considered air worthy.

But, of course, there is a loop hole.

If you do the work before the inspector sees it, and if he passes it (I am being terribly sexist here to suggest that all inspectors are men, so scold me), then you are free to go. And, you don’t have to pay a high priced certified mechanic working in a certified shop.

Dad’s plane needed the wings fabric redone. Most of the older planes were made with a fabric covering a very light frame, both on the fuselage and the wings. Now they use Dacron because it is strong and can be shrunk if necessary with a heat gun if there were any wrinkles. I have no idea of what they used before Dacron.

That surface was covered with a foul smelling material called “dope”. Obviously the name has been around a long time. I would guess it was some sort of lacquer.

So Dad’s plane needed new fabric and he did not have a good place to work. So, being the inventor he was, and a general contractor at the same time, he built a rather narrow two car garage on the back of the old house. The garage was 2 cars deep (still with me here?), and then he put a second floor, which we always called the “tower” on top of that garage.

That gave him a large space to work on those wings. Entry to that space was by a narrow stairway so the wings had to get in and out some other way. Memory evades me on how that was done. Probably with dad's ancient Case back hoe some how.

So dad had his space and spent the winter carefully and lovingly putting new dacron and dope on these Piper wings.

Later when the remodeling of the house got a bit more involved he converted the space into a decent apartment where heand Mom lived for a couple of years. I put some formica on the counter tops for them.

After my sister bought the place, some rather serious structural problems showed up (dad was famous for cutting corners -- except on his airplane). Sis had the entire roof removed and replaced with scissor trusses (now she has a vaulted ceiling), making it into a very nice living space for her. But that is a different story.

This was far from being the most inventive thing Dad came up with. How about a two engined truck or a trailer with an engine or a folding scooter to go in the airplane, but I'll go there later.


But the "tower" where sister lives all began with the need to “refab” those wings.

I look forward to the green grass.
This is the creek that runs through our place. It does not look this good to long, but i look forward to this look.
Soon.

again

Gail Sheehy once wrote that if you had lived to be 50 or 60 (I forgot which), you were a full generation younger than your father.

She may well have been right.

I get a bit morbid from time to time, yesterday for instance, and am not sure about all of this. Part of the problem is that we can feel healthy and not be!

Several of my friends are hard to get information from. Donna is married to Don, and when I want to ask about Don’s health, which is a little tenuous at best, I ask Donna. She tells me.

So it may well be on a lot of levels we are probably not the best judge of ourselves.

But there is such a benefit from having an upbeat outlook on life. Generally I do that pretty well, except in late winter. A couple days ago it was nice and I worked outside. I pruned half of the grapes, and cut and burned brush from a Russian Olive tree that blew down in a storm. Sure made that corner of the estate look better (though there is a LOT to do yet).

Then yesterday was windy and cold.

I am so glad my dear Miriam is doing well. And of course, being the grandson of a champion worrier, I remind myself that that will not always be true. But for now, it is wonderful.

The apostle Paul had something to say on the subject: “In all things be thankful.”

Thanks I think I need to be reminded.

Again.

mom and step dad

This was taken the week mom and my step dad were married. I was 6.
Mom was 26, had buried a husband and two babies.
She was a tough, wonderful woman, and a super mom. She has been gone way too long, and I still miss her.
It took me a long time to make peace with my step father.
Maybe we both had to grow up.
Mom was just 65 when cancer brought her down. She was strong right to the end. My step dad lived a few more years. I am not sure anything killed him, I really think he just gave up.
Mom took good care of him, and when he lost her he was without an anchor or rudder.
He was younger than I am now.
I had three parents, I have lived longer than any of them.
I am not sure i find all of that to be comforting.

The teardrop trailer is waiting.
We plan to take it with us to Death Valley next month.

home again -- for a bit

It is good to be home again

I say that every time we leave, and it seems we leave often! There is a trip to Portland Oregon in a few weeks and one to Death Valley California in less than a month. Every time I think we are going to have 3 or 5 months home alone, I remember that I agreed to a trip here or there.

Don’t make it sound like I am complaing here.

The trip to Portland involves grandpa time, but also involves some work pruning trees and such. I will tak a string trimmer, a lawn mower, a chain saw, a small tiller, an orchard ladder and a pickup full of other tools.

In return daughter 4 will pay my fuel costs to get there. Not too bad now. We went last year when gas was $4 plus a gallon. That was a spendy trip.

When we leave to come home, the plan is to leave Leo there for a bit. Linda bought and “owns” Leo, even if we are the “caretakers.” I would rather not take Leo with us to a national park. A pet, legal most laces, does restrict your activities. And, Linda needs some “Leo time.”

The death valley trip is with my dear friend David. That one is sheer vacation, doing little and enjoying warm weather for a few days. David and I went a few years ago. It was good to jump start spring, if only in my head.

Later this spring Brianna, granddaughter 3, graduates from the 8th grade (on my birthday, yet). I am very proud of her. Of course we will be there.

It will be a busy spring, but as I was told, travel while you can. This damnable Alzheimer’s will restrict any travel sooner than I wish.

So we go -- happily.

Disclaimer:

Some years ago daughter one (1) gave me a good sized empty book and told me to write the story of my life. I began with a furry but bogged down after a few dozen pages. I tried to get that one in chronological order.

This blog is partly to let me vent about AD from time to time, to share life with people around that I have never met, and to tell that story to my family, one notch at a time. If I can write a bit every day or almost every day, I will eventually get my story told. And it will be in no particular order at all.

I try to choose stories that might have interest outside of our family. I cannot know if I am always successful.

And, being old (when it is to my advantage) I do not always remember, so I may tell the same story or show the same picture more than once, that is a risk. I can hope that the retelling is more entertaining than the original!

Truth, after all is subjective!

Spring clouds. I am ready.

my step dad

My step father was a pilot.

He owned an airplane much of the time I knew him. In fact, when Dale came to our town about 1943 he came to take delivery of an airplane. I have no idea of why the plane was in our town, but memory says that it was not a local plane.

Any way, he met another pilot/owner who attended the same church as Dale (and mom also). That weekend the other pilot invited Dale home for diner after church, and he invited my widowed mother, who was 26, as I calculate.

Dale was about 30 handsome and had just come from Alaska where he worked on the Al-Can highway, the road between Alaska and the United States, through Canada. I guess he had a bit of cash and a real desire to own his own plane.

So Dale was introduced to mom (Arline, my daughter is named after her). Dale did not quite catch the name, and thought she had been introduced as “Darlene”. “Glad to meet you, Darlene,” he said.

I was 6, and I thought he said: “Glad to meet you Darling.” That sounded like flirting to my young ears and that was not acceptable. I glowered at him. Mom did not have a car and since he came into fly a plane away he didn't either. So he walked us to our house, down the street 7 or 8 blocks and spent the afternoon and evening.

There had not been a man in our house since dad died a few years earlier, and it was an interesting treat, I thought.

So, in a few months they were married. I remember the wedding.

Dale had been living in New York City before he went to Alaska. He ran a small donut shop there. But he left two 1935 Ford cars in storage. One was a convertible with a good engine, but bad body work and the other a 4 door sedan with a straight body and a ad engine.

So for their honeymoon, Dale and Mom rode the Greyhound Bus from our town in SW Idaho clear to NY City.

There he changed the engines and drove the better car back to Idaho.

A few times I have heard it hinted that mom as not at all happy about all of that, but she did not make a huge fuss as I remembered.

More about the plane soon.

lost

We keep pretty good track of our dogs, or we sure try.

Arline (#1) has two big dogs. They have lived in the “country” for some years and have had a big dog much of that time.

Now my idea of a big dog is one about Collie size. I know there are a lot of dogs that are huge.

Arline has a Border Collie and a Yellow Lab puppy. The Border Collie is several years old and is a pretty solid pet. They got the lab as a small pup about a year, and in many ways he is still a puppy. This dog climbs trees.

Yesterday some how the gate was not tightly closed and the dog got out.

He is gone. Since he was such a nice looking dog it is likely that some one picked him up. It would not take much more than an open door to have him jump in.

Loosing a dog is sort of a plus and minus thing. If we lost Leo I would think it was a good thing in that he is really a pain at times, but even I would miss the little rascal.

Some day my time will come to check out. I guess my family will think the same thing.