miriam's dad

He was a jolly guy for the most part.
When this picture was taken he lived with us in our small house. That was a trying experience for me, for sure.
His Parkinson's was pretty advanced, but there were flashes of the old Leonard.

my music

I was a sick child.

Pneumonia when I was a few weeks old. Whooping cough when still a baby, childhood diseases - I had them all, and if you could have one more than once, did that too.

Chicken pox, measles (both kids), mumps (I was a teen on that one and thought I would die or be reduced to being a eunuch). But a lot having to do with rather weak lungs.

When I was 10 mom decided that I should take up a wind instrument. I imagine we talked about it a bit and I choose trumpet. We did not have much money, but mom bought a decent cornet, and lessons.

My breathing got better almost immediately. Maybe mom had a doctor who suggested I take up a wind instrument. Were that the case you might say I became a musician (sorta) on Doctor’s orders!

I have good lips to be a trumpet player and have always had a good clear tone, and for some reason I have kept playing through the years. I am not a great player for sure, but I can do the hymns out of the book, mostly.

Through the years I have had a lot of partners. I played duets with John when we were in high school. Marilyn played the piano for us (Marilyn and I started grade school together, and graduated from high school together, John was a year behind in Miriam’s class). I lost John to cancer almost a decade ago.

I did duets with Martin and his trombone. Later I played lead in a group we called “The Antique Brass.” I was in my early 60’s, but the flugelhorn player was 70. My Cornet lead, Carl on flugelhorn, Martin on trombone and and Marvyn's baritone. It was a good group. We played together for a couple of years.

The last time I played my cornet in public was with Eric. Eric married the daughter of a friend, both the friend and Eric are MD’s, but are good guys any way!

Eric plays miles better than I. He can handle the fast tricky rhythms, the technical parts that our church organist loves.

I don’t do all of that, but I come in with the harmony when needed.

We did a version of “Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee” from Beethoven’s 9th, with the organ. A lot of the music was over my technical skills, but Eric made it work well, and I did the harmony. It was the recessional after church. We were not worried because everyone would be milling around and talking.

It did not work that way. The audience sat glued to their chair until we were finished, then they stood and applauded! That may well have been my last public performance.

Music has been good for my lungs. It taught me about being in front of an audience.

It has been a good run.

This was back when they were "cute."
Now they are beautiful and handsome. Josh, in the back, is 6' 2" now. Emily is 5' 7 or 8. I don't know how tall Griff is now, but he is closing in on 6'.
Where have our babies gone.

independence

Miriam goes to bed about 10.

She will sleep until 8. She and leo wake up almost the same time every day.

Maybe I should go to bed at 10, but I don’t. That is the time I have to be alone and to think. Last night I wrote a dozen pages in a journal I made the day before. Some of the writing will end up in this blog, most will just roll around in my head.

I am a quite introspective person. I write a lot about success and failures in my journal. In the evening, mostly I just sit and think,

Today I worked at the church (again!). Miriam went with me when I went over about 8 to spread some vinyl tile cement that had to dry to be sticky!

We came home, she went for her walk with Leo and I had breakfast going when she returned. Then I left her at home while I went back to the church to work. It was about 6 hours before I returned.

When I walked in the door, I could tell she was angry. She did not smile she just sulked. I tried to pry out the problem, and she was not willing to talk much. Then she began telling me of my actions, which she determined were not good.

But she had about 2 or 3 days confused, and some details from here and some from there and none in a fashion that she could manage. She was sure that I had taken her to work with me, then had taken her home and “forced” her to stay alone while I went back and worked.

She would not let up. I was tired, but decided to take her to Taco Bell for a bit to eat. I knew that would distract her and she would forget the events of the day. It did. But she still kept asking me if I was finished. No amount of logic or explaining would get the reality to that one soldered in place.

Yes, I am finished with what we will do this week. No, there is more to do and I’ll do that next week. And on and on.

The upshot is that from here on, when I go some where I will always take her with me. If she can be helpful, that is good, but if she has to sit and wait/watch that is better than leaving her at home fussing.

Truthfully, she is content to be with me. I am the only real friend she has had as an adult. I wish she were more independent and self reliant, but she is not.

And I am learning to play a game that has ever changing rules.

I am intrigued by the high up details on old buildings. This is a detail of the church where my grandson was married.
A lot of work went into these details that made the building what the creators wanted.
A lost art, I fear.

montour idaho

We were taking an early morning walk, Leo and I.

The area where we were camping had once been a small town. My grandfather's father had ties to the town. He and his brother both lived in or nearby.

So, Leo and I were walking through the now deserted town site. There was a lot of evidence of old houses. A hunk of concrete was the most enduring clue, but there were iron gates, non native trees and shrubs and one small section of what was once a white picket fence.

The railroad went by the edge of the townsite, and the foundation for the old train station is plainly visible. The Payette River was not too far beyond the railroad, and that river is why the town is not here any longer.

As I remember the story, a cold winter, a quick melt, an ice dam and then a huge flood. Huge enough to inundate a small town at least.

And it happened more than once. Even though pioneer people are tough, they had their limits too. They moved away, including my great grandfather.

As I walked the old streets, staring at the old house sites, I wondered about the joy that was enjoyed in homes. Who live here? What was their business? Were they happy here?

Towns sprang up on promise. In this case the local area looked like it would be a good farming area (turned out to not be as big or as good as expected) and that railroad would ensure a market for the products of the farms. That was the dream. But it did not work out that way. Even without the floods the town was doomed.

Grandpa Lew worked for the US Geological Survey as a civil engineer, as did his brother John. They had good titles, and probably a fair salary for that time. Many of the others were not so fortunate to have an outside paying job.

My guess is that a lot of little people money was lost in these kind of places. Maybe that is the risk of dreams.

old timers

This is my grandmother's family. (paternal).
Grandma is the girl on the right.
What strikes me is how much she looked like my granddaughter Jessica at that age.

baths

One reason little boys liked to go camping is that they did not have to take baths.

Think about it. No one could bug you, because you could not. I went to camp as a kid, went a number of times. There no showers, you had to go swimming to get a bath.

The water was cold and I did not like swimming, so. . .

Even the early camping trailers did not have any bathroom facilities. Even pretty good sized units did not. I don’t know who it was that messed it all up. It might have been Wally Bynum and his Airstream trailers, I don’t know.

But now every camper has an RV of some sort and ALL of them have very adequate bath/shower rooms.

And that is why some of us still camp in tents and tear drop trailers. We are just tall small boys. I have a “shower” tent, but don’t always take the trouble to set it up, and sometimes the camp officials do not like the idea any way.

So we can camp pretty well conscience free,

That is my story, and I am sticking!

Store bought tomatoes are wonderfully consistent.
This one is from a rather knobby strain. No slicers here, but the hunks can be pretty wonderful.
Right now is the height of tomato season.

forgetful

It was a good “vacation.”

We took the teardrop which is on the edge (in my mind) between camping and camping.

I put up the tent the first evening we were there. The mosquitos were pretty insistent, so I set up the tent, put our folding chairs in the tent and we were bug free.

When it got too dark to read easily, I started the coleman lantern (out of the tent) and hung it inside. That does not make good reading light, but it was easy to do some journaling.

Over the weekend we had heat (close to 100º), rain, wind, and lots in between. Five couples came for the weekend, and another 5 came up Saturday afternoon. We had a couple of shared meals and that was good as always.

I intended to make a Dutch oven cake, but I discovered I did not have a cake mix (nor the ingredients to make a scratch version). One of the gals had a package of Lemon bar mix that she shared with me.

When I packed the cooler, I remembered looking at the egg carton, but then I was distracted, so no eggs. Another friend rescued me there.

I added some pancake mix to the lemon bar mix, put in another teaspoon of baking powder, assembled the cake (melted butter, brown sugar, walnuts, pineapple pieces and then the cake mix.

Any way it turned out much better than I deserved. Since it was the only desert we had for that meal it was REALLY appreciated.

Miriam an I went a day before the others so I could have a day to ourselves. IT was wonderful.

Oh, and not only did I forget the cake mix, I forgot my camera! So, no pictures.

Oh well.