The scooter motor

I think I was about fourteen when dad brought home an old scooter motor. He said it had been sitting around for some years and had no idea if it could be made to run again. It was a little heavy, about thirty pounds or so. It had a single cylinder, and dad showed me, as the flywheel turns it would engage an impulse magneto that would go "CLACK" every other revolution and thirty thousand volts would go to the single spark plug. Really cool old motor.

I carried the motor over to the picnic table and set it on some old cardboard and went about taking it apart to clean and service it. I pulled the spark plug out, took all the sheet metal off, put some oil down into the cylinder and turned the motor over a couple of times. Dad said that it was a good sign that the motor turned over freely.

Dad went off to do something else and left me to keep cleaning the motor up. I chased all the spiders off and started wire brushing the years of paint and rust. I was wire brushing the flywheel, turning it a little, wire brushing it some more, and turning it some more. You know how Levis have those brass buttons on the front fly? The spark plug wire was off the spark plug and hanging down loose. As I turned the flywheel and the impulse magneto went "CLACK" thirty thousand volts went from the spark plug wire, to the brass button on the front of my Levis. My life flashed before me. It was a short life, and so far had been filled with fun. I think I saw God that day.

Dad heard me yell, as did the rest of 8th street. He came running and found me standing there holding the wire brush and wondering, what just happened! And am I going to live. How do you tell your dad that you just electrocuted your privates. It took dad some time to stop laughing. He was almost crying he was laughing so hard. He explained something about low amps and high volts or something like that. I did recover and learned the term (walk it off).

I had the old scooter motor running in a few days, and started gathering parts and pieces for the building of a go cart. On a very limited budget I had to make do with what I could gather. Old pieces of tubing from the rail yard scrap pile, an old mercury car steering box from the machine shop around the corner, and dad found some wheels, sprockets and chain. I could do all the welding at the shop at my high school.

When it was all together and running I was ready to try it out. I pushed it to the huge open paved lot alongside the Webster street that goes through the Posey tube. I think it was Bob Perata that was with me, pushing to get the motor fired up. Once it started I found out that it was geared a little to high. The motor started going chug, chug, chug, trying to gain R.P.M. As the speed increased the motor started smoothing out and off I went. The pavement was un-even and a little rough. The seat I was sitting on was just sheet metal welded to the underside of the tubing. This was the first weld that failed. Just the back part of the seat dropped to the pavement. I had a quick lesson about metal scrapping on pavement. It produces heat. Lots of heat!

I let off the throttle and started slowing down, but I wasn't slowing down quick enough. By the way I hadn't put any brakes on this thing yet. I thought I would add them some time later. I held myself up off the seat until I came to a stop. We found a piece of plywood to sit on and ran around until we ran out of gas. Another good day. No one got hurt, and with a little welding and a gear change, and just maybe a brake of some kind, we would be back at it again soon. Boy do I love building stuff and making things run. I know now that learning these things as a young boy set my course in life. I have been fixing stuff for as long as I can remember. "Thanks Dad for taking that time with me when I needed it most".

The pager incident

About 1998 a good friend, Phill Dold gave Gwen and I the use of his boat slip in Tahoe Keys for the summer. We had a 26 foot MacGregor sailboat at the time. It made it so easy to just drive up and hop onto the boat, be on Lake Tahoe in a matter of minuets. No towing, launching, or rigging the mast and sails. Friends could meet us at Tahoe Keys and we could be on the lake like, whoosh.

On one trip, I was up on the lake alone. I had sailed around most of the day and had sailed into Emerald Bay just as the winds had kicked up and the lake had turned into a churning, white capped monster. Inside Emerald Bay tho, it was as calm as glass. I went deep into the bay and as I backed into the West shore I dropped the anchor, kept backing to set the hook, and got within ten feet of the shore. I shut off the motor, and with the stern line tied to the back of the boat, jumped in and swam to shore, looped the line through a root of a tree, then swam back to the boat. If any of you have gone swimming in Lake Tahoe, you know this is no small feat. The water is about fifty degrees on a warm day.

I had enough daylight left to set up the barbecue, cook a nice steak, sit out under clear skies and watch the changing colors as the sun set. I also had a 12 volt T.V. VCR set so I was watching a movie, Star Wars I think, when someone rowed up behind the boat to see if I had any spare propane canisters. He ran out on his barbecue before he could finish his meal. I tossed him a spare bottle and he paddled back to his boat. His wife yelled a thank you from about a fifty yards away. It was so quite in the bay that I think you could whisper and be heard. What a wonderful day this was. Tahoe has a beauty all of its own.

About nine o'clock that night my pager went off, beeping. The only cell phone I had was wired into the truck back at Tahoe Keys. The pager just shows numbers, and if you have the right program on your computer you can send a text message. Well, we didn't have that at home, just a phone calling a pager and leaving a phone number. This one was from my wife. No message, just the phone number. Well Gwen knew where I was so I figured she just wanted me to check in with her in the morning as I was out and about. A few minuets later the pager goes off again! The same thing, my home phone number on the pager. I figured, OK she just did it twice to be sure I got the page. A few minuets later, a third beep, beep, beep, and its home again. OK, there must be something going on at home that required three pages in a row. Three of anything in a row means get moving.

Thank goodness I looped the stern line around that tree root so I didn't have to go swimming at nine thirty at night. I started my motor to warm it up, pulled in the stern line, went on deck, and as I was pulling in the anchor, the fellow I had given the propane to yelled over to me to see if I was having a problem. I told him that I had just gotten three pages to call home, and that I was heading over to Tahoe Keys. He waited a moment, then asked me if I knew what was going on out on the lake. It was sooo quite where we were that I had forgotten that a wind event started as I pulled into Emerald Bay. I asked him if he knew anything. He yelled back, thirty five to forty mile an hour winds from the West! Well, twenty five mile an hour winds are a white knuckle event if your under sail, so I thought I would just use the motor and scoot back to Tahoe Keys.

I yelled a thank you for the heads up to my new propane friend as I finished pulling in the anchor. I motored out to the mouth of Emerald Bay. As I cleared the mouth of the bay and made a slow right turn, I couldn't make out anything on the far shore. I had my running lights on and with the back lit compass I took a heading that should get me close to the entrance to Tahoe Keys. Unless you run into another boat, there is nothing to run into. And what idiot would be heading out on a night like this. So far, just one.

The waves were somewhere between four and six feet high. I was looking up at water when you should always only have to look down at water. The wind was howling like a banshee. I throttled the motor back to a fast idle. I had both rudders down and locked, and no sails were up. The mast alone was pushing me along faster than I wanted to go but I needed the motor pushing to keep control of the steering. I was going just a little faster than the waves, so I would climb up and surf down each wave. As you do this the boat tries to do something that is called "broaching" which means diving into a turn as you descend each wave. If you allow this to happen the boat will roll over as it hits the bottom of the trough. Its a game of playing with the throttle to maintain control. The bow plow's into the wave, then you climb up and surf down the other side and have to throttle up again and plow into the next wave. It could be fun if you were looking for something like this. I wasn't! It was a great lesson on boat handling tho.

When I was within a quarter mile of the Eastern shore I finally saw the entrance lights to Tahoe Keys. As I approached the shore the waves fell to a reasonable size and steering became easier as the boat went into the channel to the marina. Inside the marina the wind slowed down some, but all the boats that had masts were clanging and banging with loose sails and rigging. It was nice to be tied up to a dock. It took about an hour to cross the lake. I felt like I had just crossed the North Atlantic. I was cold, wind blown and worn out. A very exciting trip, but my thoughts were with my wife and what might be going on at home. It was about quarter to eleven by the time I got to the truck and made the call home.

After a couple of rings, Gwen sleepily answered.
I asked, "what's up?"
Gwen answered, "what do you mean?"
Well you paged me three times.
Oh, sorry, I just wanted to be sure you called when you got the chance.
False alarm, but a very exciting night time sail.

All of our rings.

After I proposed to your mom and she accepted, I put a diamond engagement ring on her finger. It wasn't very big, but I was in heaven with my sweetie on my arm. We had been dating for about a year and I had just bought a new Porsche. A guy has to have his priorities.

At some point after our engagement we went to a drive -in show. We were watching the show when I spotted a mosquito flying across my side of the front windshield. I smacked at it with the back of my hand, but I missed. As it flew across to the right side of the front window, your mom took a swipe with the back of her hand. screeeeee. That's the sound of a diamond on a window. Boy its a good thing this girl is cute.

When we got married your mom had a Chevy Nova. A 1963 we think. I worked on it for awhile. Looking back we should have kept it, they're a hot item now. We sold it and bought a red sports car. An 850 fiat Spider convertible. What a fun little car. You should have seen your mom with her Saint Bernard sitting next to her with the top down driving all around El Dorado County. What a hoot! I had traded in my Porsche for a International Scout 800 4X4. Another fun ride. We did the four -wheeling thing with it.

Your mom and I took her sports car down a dirt road to the river once to go swimming. The road dead ended and I couldn't get any traction to back out. It was a small car so we just picked up the back end and sort of bounced it around so we could drive out. The diamond in your mom's ring fell out and is still in the sand down that old dirt road somewhere. See, buying a small diamond was a good thing, right?

A few years later we started having babies and your mom's ring was leaving marks on you kids. We opted for plain gold bands. We put the white gold and diamond things away. Your mom and I have picked up some other rings over the years, and we both had some gold things from before we met. A ring that had my first name on it was gold, and quite heavy. My Dad and your Grandma Eloise bought it for me years ago and I had about worn it out. We also had a small gold necklace that had belonged to your Grandma Eloise. Lots of memories in all that stuff, but it was just sitting around not being used.

A few months ago your mom decided we should do something with all our old gold stuff. We went to a place in Burk Junction and had two new wedding rings designed. We had the shop use all our old gold stuff to make the new wedding bands. How cool is that. All the really meaningful things we both grew up with are now built into our new wedding bands.

I have been doing battle with a wisteria vine that I planted 22 years ago in our front yard. It has just about surrounded the house. I call it the "big green thing". Both of our rings are designed around the big green thing. Very appropriate for both of us. Two kids and four grandsons later, 38 plus years of marriage, and all those memories built into these two new wedding bands. How cool is that?

Life at sea

When I went to sea in 1961 I don't think I was ready for the work routine that I would be working. It was way different from anything I had heard of. Four hours on and four hours off. At first it sounds alright. Work four hours and do everything that you think you should do for the next four hours. Things like eat, do your laundry, clean your bunk area, go on deck and see whats going on. If you spend your time working way down below deck in an engine room, you really look forward to seeing sky, clouds, waves, breathing air that's not filled with diesel mist from the injectors.

The engine rooms, and there were two of them, each had two Fairbanks Morris diesel engines that produced one thousand seven hundred and fifty horsepower each. And they did this at about seven hundred R.P.M. Running at slow speed the propellers would only turn about sixty R.P.M. The noise was so far above what is now allowed in a work area. No one used any hearing protection. We used hand signals to communicate. If we needed to talk to each other you would have to cup your hands over the other persons ear and yell, so when you went on deck, you really enjoyed the quite and the fresh air.

Each engine room, like I said had two engines and powered one propeller. The ship had two propellers, one prop shaft came from each engine room. During your four hour duty shift, a log was kept, showing about a hundred different readings from the gauges on the control panel. Other areas of the ship also needed to be checked every hour. One of these places were the shaft alleys where the prop shafts went from the diesel engines all the way to where the shafts went through the hull to the propellers.

To check the closed areas and to be sure that nothing serious had occurred since the last check was always a little unnerving. You would open a hatch, go through, close the hatch and so on and so on. There were lights everywhere, but bulbs did burn out once in awhile. Really, really dark down there when the lights go out. The shaft alleys were big enough to walk through if you stayed bent over. There was enough room to walk on ether side of the propeller shaft, about three feet on each side and about four feet above the shaft. The shaft itself was about eighteen inches in diameter, and was supported by huge bearings encased in what is called a pillow block that has an oil sump that needed to be checked every hour also.

Here's one of the games us young men played on the ship. When we were going at slow speed, you could wrap your arms and legs around the prop shaft and see how long you could hang on. About one minute was about the record. You think the teacups at Disneyland are bad, try riding the prop shaft. We got caught riding the prop shaft and were told to not do that anymore. We ran the ships' Captain crazy with some of our antics. One other game we were told to not do anymore was jumping up while the fantail of the ship was at its highest point. You could get ten to fifteen feet in the air as the bow climbed the next wave and the back of the ship fell. Way cool as long as you landed on the deck and not too close to the edge of the ship. We never did this alone. It was a little dangerous, but fun. Keep in mind, we were seventeen and eighteen years old, and there were about ten of us at this age. It kept the old guys on their toes!

Along with two main engines in each engine room, the aft engine room also had two huge generaters that powered all the electrical needs, and a steam boiler for heating needs throughout the ship. The steam boiler also was used to run an evaporator that took sea water and distilled it into fresh water.

This ship was a research vessel. We had a bunch of scientists on board that were doing things like mapping the bottom of ocean, logging the sea temperatures at different depths, and dragging a huge net, way deep and seeing what was living at those depths. It was always exciting when the net was brought on board. The deck crew would sort out all the big things with teeth and stingers, then the scientists would jump in and start sorting the rest out. We would stop in the middle of nowhere and take bottom samples of the sea bed. It would be like five miles deep. It would take three days to drop the cable, and another three days to retrieve the tube that would fire itself into the sea floor as it made contact.
Once in awhile it wouldn't fire in straight and we would have to keep the ship in one place and do it all over again. Another six days in one place. It was during one of these extended times that us kids got the Captains' permission to swim off the fantail of the ship. Two engineers would stand by with 30/30 rifles while we dove off the deck. It was sooo clear that you couldn't swim down far enough to go out of sight. Keep in mind that we were in five mile deep ocean. Really a cool thing to have done.

While we were lowering and raising the cable for a bottom sample we would have these huge lights at night pointing down at the ocean. You should see what comes up to that light for a look see. We would see a really big fish come up to check out the lights, and, whosh, something bigger would snap it up and disappear. Now I know why the Captain had two engineers standing by with rifles while we were diving off the stern. Kinda like, whosh, and we would have been gone. Ha, 30/30 rifles? we needed something way bigger than 30/30's after seeing how big things get way out there. Of course we would have see it coming with that really clear water. If someone would have yelled, "something really big is heading up for you", Ill bet that would have been exciting! especially if gun shots, yelling and screaming were involved. Kinda makes those little hair's all over you stand up thinking about that one! Ill just remember how much fun it was swimming in five mile deep water that was so clear and clean!

Secret place

These shots were taken a few years after the (trail) was cut for access to the river. My first new car, a 1968.

The water was cold and clear. The granet pools were deep and a ball to jump into.

When I was discharged from the Army, I bought a 1957 V.W. bug. Along with working at the Navel Air Station in Alameda, I did as much camping in the mountains as I could find time for. One of the places I went was on Interstate 80 at the Eagle Lakes turn off. I would go as far as I could, then backpack in for the solitude.
On one such trip I found what may have been an old fire break, or even an old trail from the gold rush days. Everything was very overgrown, but with a little work and a few trips to accomplish the task, I cut my way through. It saved me about four or five miles of hiking. I named it, Secret Place. The trail I cut crossed the head waters of the Yuba River. If you stayed in the riffles you could ford the shallows and go another couple of miles. Real Private and quite.
About two years later I was in the Fire Department on the base and some of us on our days off would drive up for a couple of days. The area has granite water falls that end in deep clear pools. Real cold also, like snow melt. A wonderful place to go. It was 1967 and 1968 then.

In 1992 when Karson had his learners permit I had him drive Garian and I to Secret Place and spend a few days. The trail had been discovered and turned into a road. Fording the river was still the only way to get into the back country, tho. As Karson started the water crossing he gave it too much throttle and dug the rear wheels down and we were stuck. It was only maybe knee deep, so I used the bumper jack to lift each wheel and put river rocks back under the wheels. Whoosh and we were across.
When we got to the end of the trail, we found U.S. Forest tables and fire pits. So much for Secret Place! We set up camp and the kids went swimming. They caught a whole bunch of crawdads so we supplemented dinner with butter and garlic over crawdads. Garian wasn't sure about crawdads. She popped one in her mouth, swished it around and decided, nope, not this time. I saw mountain lion tracks over the top of bear tracks so we had some target practice for awhile. That would run the big ones over the next ridge for a day or two.
Two years later Garian had her drivers permit. Karson wasn't interested in another trip to secret place so Garian invited Regan DeVinney to come along. As Garian was crossing the Yuba river, in the riffles, just like she should, we lost air in the right rear tire. I went back into the river, up to my knees and changed the tire. We had sheered the valve stem off on a rock. When we arrived at the U.S. Forest service picnic area at the end of the trail, we set up camp. We did the target practice thing, just because. We went swimming in the granite pools and hiked around some. The trip had a few differences ,tho. We had campfire songs, we told scary stories, we french braided hair and every sound from the forest ended with a scream. A little different than scout camp. But lots of fun. The girls were real troupers. Girls camp had taught them all kinds of skills.
We haven't been back for some time. Its probably paved by now with a pay as you enter gate at the trail head.

Where the buffalo roam

1971 quick attack squad.

As you drive up Highway 50 from El Dorado Hills, I'm sure you have all seen the herd of buffalo. I met their great grandfather some years ago. This is that story.

A number of years ago, around the mid 1970's a grass fire was fast approaching Bass Lake Road and Highway 50. It started around White Rock road. Everyone was scrambling to keep the fire away from homes as it approached our area. I had jumped into one of our quick attack squads and headed from Cameron Park Station to Bass Lake Road. The fire was just crossing the pasture on the south side of the highway where a couple of buffalo were kept. These were the years before wild land fire gear was worn by everyone, so I was in a blue duty shirt and black pants.

I pulled in the driveway of the home at the top of Bass Lake road, pulled a two hundred foot, one -inch reel line and was stopping the fire from running through the pasture. I wasn't going to stop the fire, but I could save the pasture and direct the fire around the home and out buildings. As I was running the fire line, I felt, more than saw ,the huge head of a bull buffalo that came up behind me. His breath was sort of steamy and he seemed more than a little upset about either me being in his pasture, or the fact that a fire was running through the stubble of his pasture.

When I looked around behind me and saw this huge head, and it was really a major huge head, I took my nozzle and gave him a quick spritz with the hose stream. He looked at me just a little startled. He looked at me for a few moments, like what did you just do? Did you just spritz me with you nozzle? I don't think anyone had given him a spritz before. He turned and trotted a few feet away near a small oak tree that was about six or eight inches in diameter. He looked back at me, then at the tree. With one quick twist of his head he uprooted the tree, then looked back at me. That was my clue to finish putting this fire out from the other side of the fence.

I pulled my line back to the squad, relocated and finished what I had started from the safety of being outside of his pasture.

Did I mention how big his head was? It must seem bigger when you can feel the steam from them breathing.

Rich, Me and the Mopeds

I returned from my seafaring days in 1962. After a week making pea box's I got layed off and found a job with Montgomery Wards in their repair facility. This place was really big. I started out prepping refrigerators and freezers for delivery. I was working with a Mexican kid named Rich. We got along real well and had fun no matter what we were assigned to do. When it got quiet prepping, we were sent out to deliver anything that had been repaired at the center. We covered the whole Bay Area, so we put on lots of miles.

One day our boss asked if we could start crating a bunch of mopeds that needed to be sent somewhere. The crates were pre-assembled, sort of. Kind of like crate kits would be more like it. Anyway,we started crating these things, and there were lots of them. I guess we started running out of time to get the job done. The boss asked if we could come in and work on a Saturday with overtime. You bet we could.

The next day was Saturday. The guard at the warehouse was waiting for us when we got there and checked us in. After a few hours, and we were making good time too, we thought it would be fun to ride these things around the warehouse. It was dead quiet in there. We were alone with acres of concrete floors. We got some gas from the shop and we started having moped races. Great fun. Did I mention that these things required oil to mixed with the gas? We didn't do that. So when the engines seized, we crated them up and gassed the next two for another lap. Who in there right mind would send two young guys into this huge warehouse with mopeds and no supervision? We got them all crated before quiting time and about laughed ourselves silly.

New bikes

Linda and I got new bikes for Christmas. This is going to open new vistas for both of us. Alameda is a flat island, so peddling around town is a snap. Dad and mom have never bought new bikes. Dad would pick up a bike and make it like new. Mine was a Schwinn with a front spring suspension. Really cool for the time. Check out my leather cap with goggles. I was right out of the Christmas Story. Dad put up that fence behind us after I just about hung myself on a pile of old lumber that was on the back lot a few years earlier .



I was at a gas station on Webster Street on my bike and was watching one of the attendants showing someone how to get somewhere. He was pointing to a map that was taped to the window. He showed where we were and then ran his finger down streets making left and right turns to get where he wanted to go. He even gave the guy a free map. How cool was that. I asked for a map for myself and took it home. The map highlighted places like parks and schools and stores and even showed where Fosters Freeze was. Some new adventures were about to start for me, my new bike and a map. First stop, Fosters Freeze for an ice creme cone and caffeine. Wahoo Whoo. I wonder if I would get yelled at if I road my bike through the Webster Street tube into Oakland? Hummm

Box tops and Submarines

We always shopped on Fridays after dad got home. We all had to go, no one could stay home alone, especially me for some reason. While we were all following mom and dad through the store I saw it for the first time. On the front of the cereal box was a picture of a submarine that could be mine for only four boxtops and twenty five cents. I convinced mom and dad that I loved that cereal. It took four weeks to gag down four box's of that cereal. Lots of sugar really helped.Linda and Dottie wouldn't touch it. Mom and I mailed off for my submarine. Only six to eight weeks for delivery.

Now when your nine or ten years old, you have no idea how long six to ten weeks is. It"s like two months. Everywhere I went I was on the lookout for the perfect little body of water. We had tons of little ponds over on the railroad yard. I checked each one several times to be sure they would be deep enough and clear enough for my submarine. I had dreams about how much fun it was going to be. I saved all the old cereal box's and hung them around my room, and read and re-read all the sales pitches about how much fun the little boy was having with his submarine. Whooo Hooo. I couldn't wait. It was killing me.

When the package finally arrived with my submarine in it I knew all my dreams were coming true. But after opening the package I was a little disappointed. How little it looks in real life. It was no more that two inches long. On the cereal box it looked to be a foot long. The picture even showed clearance lights on the front and back. In real life the lights were itsybitsey little pimples that maybe you could put a dot of paint on to make it look light running lights.

I read the instructions. I needed baking soda to put in the little compartment under the submarine. Then when it dives under the water the baking soda causes it to rise to the surface. Sounds good so far. I filled the kitchen sink, put the baking soda in the little compartment, and while the whole family watched I dropped the submarine into the sink. It layed on its side and fizzed, like it had gas. The whole family lost interest within moments. I battled the problems until I ran out of baking soda and my fingers pruned up. You couldn't make it dive without tying something to it. Then it wouldn't come back to the surface. Taking it out to the railroad ponds didn't sound like good idea any more either.

The only things I learned from this whole thing is, you can gag down lots of bad cereal with enough sugar and have great dreams about a toy that was made in Japan just to sell bad cereal to unsuspecting little boys.

My sisters

My big sister, all grown up. It must be about 1957 or so. A Suit with a plaid shirt. Who dressed me, anyway?

My little sister is even growing up. I don't know how she survived me.

Cute sisters. I'm glad we usually got in front of the newest car in the family. It helps.

1951 Mercury.

Is my little sister cute in this shot or what? I remember the sailor hat. I think it was dads'.

Dad built this boat first. It was a real show piece with natural wood decks with tail fins and a twenty- five horse Johnson outboard. Dad even built the trailer. You name it and he could build it.

Confetti and stiches

When you're six or eight, you make new discoveries all day, every day. One of my friends from the next block over was at my house and we were getting into anything we could. Robert Perata was my age; we started kindergarten the same day. I think he had more issues than I did about anything that was un-safe. I still think it was his idea when we took my dads push lawn mower, turned it upside down and while he pulled ,I made confetti by feeding newspaper through the whirling blades. What fun. We had confetti everywhere.

Did you know that my middle finger sticks out past all my other fingers? I didn't pay much attention until I felt a quick tug and the sound of a little thump as the end of my finger left. It started spurting blood and a funny little end of a finger was laying in the confetti. Rob took a long look, and so did I. Right then our brains couldn't put the two things together. The end of a finger laying in the confetti and blood spurting from the end of a finger on my right hand. Rob made some kind of un-intelligible gurgling scream and took off running for home.

Dad had to leave work and come home for a trip to Kaiser in Oakland. Mom had the bleeding slowed down and my finger piece wrapped up on ice in waxed paper when dad got home.

It only took eight or so stitches to put it back on. Now I have a weather forecaster for a finger. I can tell when its getting colder, or rain is on the way. Way cool for a little kid.

The Aunts and Uncles

Dad with Aunt Isabel durning the war years.

My dad has four sisters. I really only remember three. The oldest sister, Marie passed away while I was young. I do remember meeting her a few times. The other three I remember quite well. Aunt Alice and Uncle Al lived on a ranch in the little town of Clayton, California. Alice was sort of like a little house on the prairie person, a sweet farmers' wife who knew about things on the farm. A really fun place to have family gatherings. Lots of room to run and explore.

Aunt Weezey( Louise) and Uncle Ame lived in Oakland, California in a house on a quite street. Aunt Weezy has three daughters, all fun to be with. Weezy would have to fall into the category of the big city mom. Always well dressed and a great homemaker.

Aunt Izzy( Isabel) and Uncle Able lived in San Lorenzo, California. I'm pretty sure Aunt Isabel ran the home. I have a picture of her in uniform. She was a Marine during the second world war. I'll blame Uncle Able for teaching me to catch frogs and lizards at Uncle Al's ranch.

Dad has a brother, Clayton Grewe or also known as Uncle Bud. We didn't see him very often and I have very little memory of Uncle Bud. Only a few stories from dad and mom.

On a visit to Aunt Izzy, I can remember walking about three blocks from their home to a church activity, Catholic I think. It was a huge family affair, and it must have been a fund raiser. Dad and Uncle Able were about three sheets to the wind. (check the Internet for a description of that phrase) I remember standing close to my dad while both Uncle Abel and dad were bidding on something, and laughing like there was no tomorrow. I don't remember where mom, my sisters or aunt Isabel were at that moment.

Uncle Abel and dad won the highest bid on something and they were still laughing so hard I think they were crying. I still didn't know what it was all about, but in a short while we were all together and picking up the bid item. With a rope around its neck, we were heading back to Aunt Isabel and Uncle Abels home with a very small bull calf in tow. What fun for us kids. A pet bull calf, and in town, too. After much pulling and tons of laughing we arrived at Aunt Isabels' house. Somewhere, dad and Uncle Abel came up with some hay, and cleared out the garage for what we thought was our very own pet calf.

We went home that nite, but we returned the next day to move the calf to Aunt Alice and Uncle Al's ranch in Clayton. You should have seen Aunt Isabels' garage after just one nite! It was like way stinky with all the things a calf does after it eats and drinks all nite. Our family car at the time was a 1938 Packard four- door. Dad couldn't reach us from the front seat while he was driving. That was a good thing, lots of times. This car was huge. Dad took the back seat out and scattered straw on the floorboards. What fun this is going to be, or so I thought. Mom, Dad and my sisters filled the front seat. I got tossed in the back with my new pet calf and was told to keep him quiet and don't roll down the windows or open the back doors.

It was summer but in the Bay Area that didn't mean much, but as soon as you go over the Oakland hills and into the Walnut Creek Clayton area it got hot real quick. The calf did alright driving back through Oakland. People were looking at us with a calf in the back seat and a wide- eyed, little blond kid trying to keep his new pet calf from climbing over the front seat. Then we entered the Caldecot Tunnel. The calf really didn't like this part of the trip at all. While in the tunnel the calf let it all out. Cow poop and wee wee. I was stumbling in it trying to keep the calf in the back seat. About then I decided that I didn't like the back seat anymore, either. Now mom and dad were trying to keep me from climbing over the front seat. Has anyone ever noticed how much a calf slobbers? Lots!!

Did I tell you how hot it gets when you come out on the Walnut Creek side of the tunnel? Now add the stink of cow poop and wee wee, air conditioning was not even thought of, and we need to keep the windows almost closed so the calf doesn't do something stupid. Of course I'm also trying to climb over the front seat and escape. With more than enough yelling and pushing, my calf and I were kept in the stinky, hot, back seat until we arrived at the ranch. I lost interest in having a pet poopy, and slobbery calf and was glad when Uncle Al opened the back door and we both escaped into fresh air. The calf was coaxed into his new pasture and I headed down to the creek to un-poop my shoes.

I don't really know what happened to the calf, but I do know we had a few barbeque's some time later with family gatherings at the ranch, and there was talk about selling the Packard, especially on hot days.

Got a match?

So there I was out in Sagi, short for the name of my boat, Sagittarius, you know the winged horse thingy, in the sky. Anyway I was at anchor fishing for the big one. I really don't know what I was going to do if I really did get something really big, and it got angry. I always had my survival knife at the ready, and I kept a baseball bat on board. If you want to keep your hooks you have to reach around toothy areas, and it works best if they aren't too alert.

Thanks to my big sister I had learned to smoke. Dad's of course. Little short Lucky Strikes. So there I am at anchor with a baited line out, about a half a mile off shore from the Navel Air Station, Alameda, shark and sting ray country. And now its time to lite up a short one. Problem #1,it's a little bouncy out here. Problem #2, I may have a cigarette, but I don't have a match on the boat. No sticks to rub. No flint and steel, but I have a two- cylinder motor. I remove the cowling from the Mercury motor, pull one spark plug wire, move the throttle down to real slow idle and turn the motor all the way to one side. If I lean over just right I can hold the cigarette between my lips and hold the plug wire next to the motor and lite my smoke.

I yank on the starter rope ,the motor starts, but a little rough because one wire is off. I start going in circles because these old motors don't have a neutral. When they start, you start moving. I lean in and try lighting up. Other that shocking myself more than I like, all that happened was I burned little holes in the end of my one and only cigarette, I got a little dizzy going around in circles, and oh yeah, I wrapped my anchor line and fishing line around the motor too.

Looking like an idiot, I unwrap everything from the motor. It's still bouncy out here, and now I'm not facing the waves. New plan. I dip a rag in the gas tank, restart the motor and get zapped a few more times. I hate that. I just remembered doing that to my little sister once. She didn't like it ether. Well don't ask me why I didn't burn the boat down to water line. I couldn't get fire on this boat no matter how hard I tried. I was still at the age where I didn't need to smoke, I just wanted to. Years later I would realize how stupid it was to even start. I tossed my electrocuted cigarette overboard and went back to fishing.

Thank you Eloise and Neil for reminding me of this story.

Home alone

I guess Linda must have been thirteen or so, that made me ten or so. I can still see dad looking down at us and saying, "we will only be gone ten minutes, tops!" So mom, dad and Dottie hopped in the car to run up to the store. This is the first time we were ever left alone together. This is my version. Shena lured me outside and then ran back inside and locked the french doors behind her. These doors have square glass panels of about eight inches each. Shena then taunted me from inside the house while I was trying to open the locked doors.

When dad, mom and dottie got home, about ten minuets later, we were both in the house trying to stop the bleeding on my left wrist where I had pushed my hand through one of the glass panels, while Shena was holding her hand in a rag with ice because I broke one her fingers when I broke through.

The exasperated look on my dads face was worth all the effort we took in showing how trust worthy we had become at ages ten and thirteen. We had almost stopped the bleeding on my wrist and numbed the pain of a broken finger on Linda all by ourselves, without any help. I don't think dad would see it that way, tho. A short trip to Kaiser in Oakland had a splint on Linda and it only took seven or eight stitches to pull my wrist together. All my tendons and nerve endings were intact. See? we did good! We also were not left alone again for quite some time.

Superman and the tea towel

I guess I was old enough to look through comic books. I know I couldn't read yet. Dad was always building something, fixing something or trying to keep kenny from killing himself.
Linda, (Shena) has told me this story several times over the years. I think I was about five. That put Shena at eight.
It was the era of Superman. Dad was working on the house, Dottie was a baby and Linda was in charge of the neighborhood. Mom was in the house and helped make me Superman. On my T shirt she drew the superman symbol, then she tied a red tea towel around my neck. "sounds bad already doesn't it?"
Our neighborhood was old, but still had open lots. One of them was behind our house and it had a huge pile of lumber stacked up. Dad was always warning us to stay out of the lot because it was dangerous. That made it a magnet for us kids. So out comes superman to conquer the world. I had on my fastest tennis shoes, A big red S on my T shirt, and of course the red cape tied around my neck.
Linda took one look and asked, who are you supposed to be? Sillyman? That really helped my alter ego. I climbed up on the lumber pile and took off for a running leap, side stepping the nails that were poking out of just about every board. Off the end I went, and of course my cape caught on one of the nails. Linda was right on top of things. She held me up while yelling for dad. I can still see dad leaping over the fence. Wow could he run and jump when he needed to. At least for an old guy.
I know Shena probably saved my life, again. They say the age of reasoning is eight years old. After working on some of these stories I'm beginning to think most blond boys hit the age of reasoning at about thirty. My superman days were over. Dad took my cape off and the big red S on my T shirt didn't mean much all by itself. I know what I need. I had to look for a super hero that doesn't use a cape.

Store bought whipped cream

So my mom, Thelma had a real surprise for us after dinner. She had picked up strawberries and she had baked a shortcake. Mom had also picked something that we have only heard of. Whipped cream in a can that had some kind of a spray nozzle. Unheard of way back then. My dad, Harry had to be the first one to spray the whipped cream. Back then the little cap and nozzle had little tabs of some kind that had to be in place for it to work. Well Harry read about as many instructions as most men.

Off came the cap and snap went the little tabs. Shake the can like mad and point it upside down. "Nothing" "Harry what does it say on the can, Thelma asked. "dirty look inserted here" Shake the can some more, point it down. "Nothing"

All three of us kids are trying to be first in line. Dad is getting a little upset, but nothing will get in Harrys way when it comes to working out a problem. I think he tryed to look at the instructions without any of us seeing him. What happened next will go down in the history books of the Grewe kids.

Dad set the can down on the counter, picked up an ice pick, placed the pointy end down the nozzle and hit the top of the handle with the palm of his hand. Now we live in a real old house that has twelve foot ceilings with curved edges. The old lathe and plaster stuff from the late 1800s.
Ill bet if you went to the house in Alameda you would still find dried up whipped cream on the celling. Dad looked like Santa and us kids were all but licking the shirt off of him.

We all had a good laugh, and some of the whipped cream did get on the strawberries and short cake. The whipped cream we had to whip ourselves still beats the stuff that comes out of a can. I think of this every time I use the store bought stuff. My cat and I go through at least a can a week. I call him sugar lips.

The parachute

My dad would bring things home once in awhile to keep me busy. Once it was an old army helmet. This time it was a parachute. It was about 1953 and I was ten. The chute to me was really big. It had the shroud lines on it and they ended with a metal ring. Dad said something about making a tent with it. I thought to myself, tent? Ha, I just joined the Screaming Eagles, the 101st airborne.
I thought for a real long time, maybe ten minutes, about how I could tie this chute to me and float down to the ground. It didn't take long for me to tie the metal ring to the back of my pants and climb up on my neighbours garage roof. It was one story, kind of flat and ended on a gravel driveway.
I figured that if I folded the parachute just right and tossed it into the air as I left the roof, it would fluff out, catch the air and I would slowly drift to the ground. What great thoughts I have when planning an adventure. As I was taking off running across the roof I looked up at the bedroom window of my house, (second story window) I saw my big sister with both hands on the glass, screaming something. I also heard my neighbour, Mr. Olson screaming something about his garage roof, and what do I think I'm doing running across it.
I ran out of roof and I tossed the parachute into the air. I landed on the parachute. It actually beat me to the ground. My first thoughts weren't (I wonder what I may have broke) my first thoughts were, I need a higher roof. The chute didn't have time to fluff up and slowly bring me down.
Mr. Olson had a little talk to me about his roof. I tryed to explain that I used his garage because I didn't have a garage and my house was two story and too peaky to run across. My big sister was downstairs by now taking charge of her little brother and whisking me away from the wrath of Mr. Olson. I heard something about He and my dad checking the roof for any damage. My sister was trying to retire from being the supreme leader, (Shena) but I keep pulling her back into a leadership mode.
When dad got home from work he was met by Mr. Olson, and Shena. I didn't listen to what was talked about, I was only ten remember. I know my dad and Mr. Olson checked his garage roof, and dad checked to see if I had hurt myself. Shena had taken my official 101st airborne parachute and put it somewhere.
I went to sleep that night thinking about who has a roof that is two story and flat enough to run across. Meanwhile my dad is in my moms sewing room cutting the shroud lines off my parachute. My sister is still looking at me like I'm some kind of nut. My dad is also asking my mom something about the possibility of a next generation of Grewe's, and will Ken make it to his teen years.
My official 101st airborne parachute was turned into a tent, Shena didn't have a chance to retire with me around, and Dottie survived me, somehow. I found out later in life that the parachute dad brought home was actually the little chute that pulled the main chute out and assisted in deployment. "Who would have thought?" I just needed the main chute!

Saltwater fishing

So far all of my fishing has been in lakes, rivers, and creeks. My dad had taught me how to catch small things that live under rocks, or other bugs to use as bait, or how to use lures and such. Usually small fish stuff. But now I have a boat and the salt water is calling. We had not gone deep sea fishing yet, that will come soon.
I took one of the fishing rods and some of the biggest hooks we had and I loaded up my boat, all 7 feet 11 inches of it. My dad had an anchor for his boat that I don't think we ever used. It was a little big for my boat, at least I thought it was. It had about fifty feet of rope tied to it. Should be enough. I still had the 1 1/2 horse motor, so I watched the tides and wind as I headed out for my first fishing adventure in the bay. I had been on the estuary and the bay maybe two or three times, but that was just exploring.
I pulled the boat behind my bike down to the marina and put her in. I motored around the west end of Alameda and dropped my anchor off the sea wall off the Navel Air Station. My pole was a spinning reel with a pole about six feet long. I had stopped by Ralphs Market and bought some prawns to use as bait before I had left. Ralph himself said they would work well in the bay. The first couple of nibbles were exciting, but the first time something actually took the hook was really something. It bent the pole way down and the line just broke. This happened several times. No matter how hard I tryed I couldn't bring up whatever was taking the bait. It wasn't long before I ran out of hooks, weights and the line that was way too lite.
I put everything away, pulled up the anchor and went exploring until it was time to head home. When my dad got home I told him about what happened with my first salt water fishing trip, and he agreed that I may need some heaver equipment.
The next day dad came home from work with a rod and reel that work from a boat. Nice and short, strong with line that had to be at least fifty pound test. I couldn't wait for the weekend to come. The next Saturday morning I was on my way as the sun was coming up. Dad had also picked up some frozen squid to use as bait. He also gave me an official Navy survival knife. "I still have that knife"
I'm on the bay and heading back around the west end of Alameda, I toss out the anchor and cut up some squid. I have some hooks that look like they could be used as anchors. Their huge. I'm going to find out shortly why dad bought such big hooks and such a strong pole.
Again, a few nibbles. I check my bait. Something sucked it off the hook. I cut some more bait and really wrap it around and hook it really well. another few nibbles. I check the bait again. Sucked clean again. This time I'm ready. I'm holding the pole, the butt end in my belly, the boat bouncing on the anchor, a lite wind from the west coming under the bay bridge. I feel the first nibble. I jerk the pole back as hard as I can and something is hooked really well. Ar first It just pulls around to the side of the boat. Then it starts heading toward the back of the boat. Its all I could do to hang on. The anchor was set in deep mud and not slipping a bit. The reel starts clicking as the drag lets line out. The reel holds about two hundred feet of fifty pound test. I have my feet against the transom and I'm leaning back and trying to get whatever I hooked to turn so I can reel him in. I start pumping the rod and reeling. He's turning and starting to pull me sideways. The anchor is still holding and I'm tipping a little more that I like.
Holding onto the rod with one hand I pull the anchor in in jerky motions. Once the anchor is in I can keep this thing at least pulling me bow first. I still don't know what I have on the line, but my heart is really pounding. The movie (JAWS) hadn't come out yet. If it had I wouldn't be where I was trying to catch what I was about to come face to face with.
As I reeled him in closer the first sight of him was his dorsal fin. He was only about twenty feet from the boat when I could see the dull patches of color. A tiger shark, about eight or ten feet long. Probably 200 pounds. He had been pulling the boat around for about twenty or thirty minutes. He was tired, and so was I. I reeled him in closer, took my knife and cut the line. I lost a weight, some line, and two hooks. But I had the thrill of a lifetime. No way was I going to pull him into the boat.
Once I cut him loose I looked around to get my bearings. I was halfway down to Bay Farm Island. What a trip for a first catch. The next time out I would have a baseball bat with me. I did catch fish that we could eat, but I had the most fun catching sharks and stingrays. The rays in the bay had wing spans of eight feet and better. They were the hardest to land, and had the most endurance. There were times that I would take the fishing line and take a wrap around the bow cleat, sit back and have lunch. They tend to circle back. At first I thought I would be towed out to sea. Oh boy the life of a twelve year old. Shena would never have let me do things like this in the old days. She turned into such a girl. She was fifteen by now and not the least interested in what I was up to. Dottie was nine by now and was almost always with dad or mom.

First boat

The finished product with the winged horse on the bow and everything. It was soooo cool, and My dad built it two weekends.


Dot, are these the ones you asked about? The back of the pictures says 1957

I must have really liked this shirt.

I was about twelve when my dad built me my first boat. A friend down the street had an El Toro sailboat. It looked small enough to be built in a few weekends with very little materials. My dad could build or fix anything. We picked up some sheets of butcher paper and traced the outline of one side and half of the bottom of the El Toro. This was the plan to follow. If I remember right it took two 4X8 sheets of 1/4" marine plywood. The boat measured seven foot eleven inches long and four feet wide.
A friend of my dads had an old outboard motor that we got real cheap, or free, I don't remember which. It was a one and a half horse motor built in Munce Indana, probley in the 1920's. You had to wind a rope around the flywheel and pull to start it and the tank held about a quart of gas.
The first place the boat hit the water was at Lake Brittan, up in the Shasta area. We went on a two week vacation with the family ski boat and my new boat.
I was like Tom Sawyer on a two week adventure. My folks could not get me off the water. The family went to town a few times to get supplies and I would stay on the lake. I explored every cove and inlet. I caught fish, turtles, frogs, and anything that I could find. Life was very very good for a young boy and a new boat.

First car

In 1956 I was thirteen. My Grandfather Condley couldn't drive any longer so he gave us his pride and joy, his 1936 four door Dodge. I only have one picture and it's really a bad one. I down loaded one that looks a lot like the one we had. I learned to drive the stick shift by driving up and down the driveway. When no one was looking I would venture out onto the street. It didn't take long before I was all over Alameda. My friends would pile in and we would head for the local Fosters Freeze to spend our allowance. I even went across the Bay Bridge a few times. Keep in mind that I was still thirteen and in gramer school. I did get caught! Did you know they didn't have student parking in the eighth grade? I parked in one of the teachers parking spaces and my dad was notified. How can you ground a thirteen year old from driving?

First Fireman In Cameron Park...How It Happened

At the end of November 1966 I took a cab from Oakland where I had just been discharged from the Army. I paid the cab driver, stood in front of the family home on 8Th street in Alameda. I dropped my duffel bag on the sidewalk and looked up and asked, "Now what". I had actually made it home! Of course no one was home. I hadn't called ahead to let anyone know what the time frame would be. I remember I slept on the floor in front of the heater for the first few weeks. I was really used to a hot humid climate.
After a few weeks at home my dad said they might be hiring at the Navel Air Station. I applied and got a job as a mechanic, and by chance it was working on Navy fire equipment. I re-built fire engines and crash trucks for about a year, and again by chance transferred into the fire department on the base. I told the fire chief that I knew more about the fire equipment than anyone else, and I could learn firefighting as I went.
So I fought fires and worked on the airfield as a crash fire firefighter for another year. They had hired several of us at the same time. One of the guys had been the fire chief in Marin County and was let go by the board of directors. He had a ton of experience and fun to work with. We were watching jets landing from one of the aircraft carriers that was still out at sea, they do this before they come in and dock. Anyway Herb, the ex fire chief was reading a trade magazine from the fire service. They were advertising for a fire chief up in the Sierra foothills. Long story short, they hired Herb and he needed someone that could build and maintain fire equipment. I was very fed up with the bay area (another story) and jumped at the chance to re-locate. I moved up on 28 March 1969. My official start date would be 1 April 1969. I hadn't thought about starting a career on April Fools day, but I did. That's why I picked Halloween day 31 October 2005 to retire. It only made sense!
Herb also called another guy to join us, but the district could only afford one full time fireman and one part time. So Don, the new guy came up and got a job managing the Phillips Gas Station full time and the fire station part time. I worked part time at the Phillips station. Don would shut off the power and lock the doors, drive to the fire house and as soon as he arrived I left and re-opened the gas station. We had a few young guys pumping gas and cleaning the grounds. We did this for several years. I have always had more than one job at a time. It kept me out of trouble.
This is how I ended up at Cameron Park Fire Department.

Swimming With The Seal

While I was still about twelve, some of my friends and myself spent a lot of time ether at the beach at Washington Park or down at the estuary. This one day we all decided to make it a beach day and swim out to the radar tower which was about a mile off shore. We have done this several times and we try to out jump each other by climbing up high and jumping out further. Well as it turned out I was the only one out of at least three others that showed up. I hung around the beach for awhile and decided I would swim out by myself. About halfway to the radar tower this thing surfaced right in front of me, like two feet away, eye to eye. It barked and to this day I can still smell that breath. It looked at me for a few seconds, then just went down, tail first like it was sizing me up. I'm thinking to myself, what part of me is it going to taste test? I am an almost naked skinny twelve year old. I'm sure I peed in the bay right about then. I looked at the shore, then to the tower. It was about the same distance, and I took the stupid choice. I went to the tower. Now I'm stuck on the radar tower, and no way am I jumping in the water with this fish breath, whiskery, barking monster. And has anyone noticed the teeth these things have? About an hour later I'm freezing my skinny little butt off, so in I go and break all my swimming records for making it to the beach. Ill stick to small boats for now. Or large crowds. I think this is why fish swim in large schools and try to stay in the middle of the crowd. I don't remember, but I don't think I went tower jumping again. At least in the bay.

New outboard

That first two weeks in my new boat was a once in a lifetime experience for a young boy. The freedom of movement it gave me will only be eclipsed with the ability to drive wherever I wanted to go. The boat however did open the San Francisco bay and the Oakland Alameda estuary to me. The motor my dad and I rebuilt was one and a half horse and did alright if I watched the tides and wind. It failed a few times and I was able to row to a shore and be rescued.

When we got home from lake Brittan in Shasta County I had a little dilemma. How to move the boat from home to the water. My dad solved the problem in short order, a trailer pulled ether by hand, or pulled behind my bicycle. Dad built an aluminum tube frame with three wheels and a pull handle. Alameda only has one hill and its a pile of dirt and is called windy hill, so everything else is pretty much flat and paved. I wasn't ready to tow a boat with a car yet. I was still twelve.

Now about being rescued. My motor quit one afternoon and the tide changed before I could round the west end of Alameda and I was being pulled out under the Bay Bridge and headed over by Alcatraz. I was pulling for all I was worth on the oars, but losing headway.

My dads side of the story went like this. I got home from work and (joe) my nickname was not at home and his boat and bike were gone also. I drove down to the marina. Kens bike and trailer were still there so I knew he would be heading back this way. I went home, hooked up the family boat and went to the end of Grand street and launched. As I went down the estuary I asked if anyone had seen a kid in a small boat. I did run into one fisherman that said he saw a kid out by the bay bridge about an hour earlier. My dad found me sort of holding my own on the Leeward side of Alcatraz and some guards yelling at me to stay away. I tossed my dad my bow line and hopped on his boat. It was a slow ride back to the marina with my boat in tow. Between the out going tide and the incoming wind it got really rough and the big boat was only fourteen feet long.

I had worn out the old Muncie motor and it was really lacking in both horsepower and dependability. Dad found a really great two cylinder ten horse Mercury in a box, all apart. Don't you just love people that can look beyond shiny new things? By rebuilding the motor I learned everything I would need to know when I had a motor problem out on the water. And where else would a young boy work on his brand new old outboard motor but in his bedroom! What a dad!

How I Met Your Mother

Garian has asked me to document some of my story's. This is one of the stories Garian wanted me to write.
By the time I had met your mother I had already worked in several repair shops while I was in high school. This paid for my cars, repair parts, gas and so on. If I had met you mother when I had graduated from high school, your mom would have been about eight years old. Not ready to meet her yet.
After returning from sea I went to work at Crown and Zellerback ,making frozen pea boxes. That lasted about a week. Then I went about a mile away to Montgomery Wards and got a job in the repair facility in San Leandro. I have some stories from there also. While working at Wards I received my call to serve in the Army.
After my hitch in the army, Your mom would be about fifteen. I still have a few years to wait before I'm supposed to meet your mother.
After the Army I went to work for the Navy as a fire equipment mechanic, then transferred to the fire department, and eventually a move to Cameron Park as the first fireman to be hired. The year is 1969, and your mom is now seventeen, soon to be eighteen. It's about time for us to meet.
I had a second job at the local Phillips 66 gas station, and we had several young men working with us. One such young man drove into the station with your mom sitting in his car. I said hi and leaned in through the drivers' window and asked the young lady why she was dating this guy. Your mom looked at him, then at me and couldn't answer the question. Your mom came back to the gas station a few days later in her little black V.W. bug. I did some service work on it and we started dating soon there after.
Your grandmother Barbara stopped in the gas station a few weeks later and invited me over for your mom's birthday. When I arrived and my soon to be mother-in-law was placing the candles and lighting them, I started counting. She had placed the eighteenth candle when I caught my breath. I think I said something like, you have to be kidding, right? Your mom just about had earned her AA at the local college.
I proposed about a year later, after I had asked your grandfather Tabor for her hand in marriage. Bill, Barbara and I had planned a dinner at Sam's' Town in the Lillian Russel room. Three of us knew I was going to propose, Your mom didn't. Three of us couldn't eat, your mom was eating like she hadn't eaten for the last few days.

When I dropped down on one knee and held her hand the restaurant got real quite. This could be a night to remember only if your mom will say yes. I think I thought to myself, what if she says maybe, or no. I held my breath, your mom didn't wait too long before accepting my proposal.

We were married in the Emmanuel Church in Coloma, February 7 ,1971. Your mom was nineteen and I was twenty eight. We waited five years before Karson was born and another two years for Garian. Almost to the day, two years, less two days apart. I have no regrets waiting for the right girl at the right time. Now we have four wonderful grandsons and thirty eight years together, with more to look foward to.

Army

Top picture is bending wrenches, keeping things running. The bottom picture is on a really big tow truck. We had arrived at a base camp called Godeha (sp) really a scary place to be for a couple of days before heading back to CuChi. What else could a guy want? A really big tow truck, an M14 and a cold one!

When I graduated from high school I went to the Navy recruiter and wanted to enter the sub service. I took the tests and was told that I was too tall for the older diesel electric and that I didn't qualify for anything that they needed for the newer nuclear subs. That ended my Navy carrier. Just by chance my neighbor asked what I was up to after high school and that's how I went to sea on the ship Pioneer. Ill be adding to that blog as time goes on.

So I waited for the draft for a few years. I was called to duty on 18 November 1964.

Where in the world is Fort Polk?

I found out shortly, for about three months. After basic training I was sent to Hawaii with the 25Th Infantry Division, 125Th Signal, C company.

When I left I had a 250 Honda Scrambler, a 1957 Plymouth station wagon that I bought from Dad and Eloise, and my second Oldsmobile, a 1950 two door fast back that I raced on the quarter mile drag strip. Life was good back then.

After a few great months on Oahu my neighbor put my motorcycle in a box in pieces and shipped it to me. That's a whole other story. So now I had my bike and I had picked up a 1951 MG TD to run around the island.

About January 1966 we got the call that we were deploying to South East Asia. (Viet Nam). I shipped the bike back to my neighbor, Sherman. I told him to keep the bike, but sell the station wagon and Olds. I sent a (dear Joan)I really didn't plan on coming home, and I didn't want to write home except to family.

My kids have always asked what I did in the Army and I try to keep it lite, funny and interesting. Lots of really good guys to be with. I'm still in touch with some.

Shena, Queen of the Jungle

Linda was such a loving big sister when she wasen't Shena.

(Left to right, back row) Linda (Shena), Patsy, Dottie being held by Judy)
(Left to right, front row) Bill King, Ken (me)



Linda (Shena) The bow in the hair is to remind us that Shena is a girl.


I was five in 1948. My little sister was under a year old and my big sister was eight. Our neighborhood was at the foot of eighth street with one house between us and the tracks of the Alameda belt line. It was a busy place during the second world war and was winding down in the late forties and early fifties. The block we lived on had lots of elderly people and a few young families with kids like us.
The block was in dire need of kid-like leadership. In comes my big sister,now known as Shena, Queen of the jungle. Nothing escaped the watch full eye of Shena. I, of course, was the perfect little blond five year old. Shena led us on adventures into the wilds of the open fields of the rail yards with tall grass and piles of sand that were used by the trains and kept in huge boxes. We would hear a train coming and hide so we wouldn't get run off. We built forts and dug tunnels. If you dug too deep in Alameda you would hit water, so we had shallow tunnels.
After any Christmas we would gather up all the neighborhood Christmas trees and stack them up to make log houses. They really smelled great, but we would always be covered with pine pitch.
The rail yard would have areas that were filled with water and always have frogs and tad poles and toads. Great fun for a bunch of kids. It was great to have a leader and organize our adventures. Way down the rail line was a lumber mill with piles of sawdust and boards to build things with. We built rafts on the ponds and had raft wars. At this age we didn't go to the bay or the estuary,which was a good thing. That will come in a few years for me.
At the back of the train roundhouse, at the end of the tracks, stood a hill of dirt. It was put there to stop any runaway rail cars, or trains. It was most likely one of the highest points in Alameda. Us kids had trails and paths over and around it that we could even ride our bicycles over. We called it "windy hill". Not too long ago my little sister and I were talking about the good old days and Dottie mentioned windy hill. Our step mom, who was also raised on the same block as we were, perked up and said "I remember windy hill" I played on it as a little girl. Eloise is ninety four this year. I guess us kids didn't invent the area, did we?
Shena's reign only lasted for a few years. Once she turned eleven or twelve she turned into a girl and took up other interests. The eighth street hood was broken up and found other things to do.

The Mail Buoy

Me at 17 on the USC-GSS Pioneer

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Shortly after graduating from Alameda High School I was offered a job on a Coast and Geodetic ship that was leaving Oakland and working between Hawaii and Alaska for about a year. The ship was 114 feet long and 48 feet wide. It was also a little rusty around the edges. It served during World War Two as a sub tender. It was commissioned Sea Wolf, latter re-commissioned Pioneer as a research vessel.

About the third week at sea one of our Engineers, Mr. Peasly poked his head in our bunk area and let us younger guys, that had just been hired on for the voyage, know that we would be coming up to the mail buoy in a few hours. If we had any letters for home, now would be a good time to send them. A bunch of us started writing letters home. I tracked Mr. Peasly down to give him a hand full of mail and he told us that we were the only ones wanting to send letters home and that if we wanted to, we could watch for the mail buoy at around midnight and drop them in.

So this is how you will find four or five of us younger guys up on the bow of the ship at exactly midnight with battle lanterns shining out into the darkness looking for the mail buoy.

Anyone that has been on a ship knows how loud the public address system is! The old Captain of the ship was watching us from the bridge and found out what we were doing. He clicked on the P.A. and in a VERY fatherly voice that everyone on the ship could hear, or anyone within a few miles, "YOUNG MEN, THERE IS NO MAIL BUOY, go below and get some sleep".
Mr. Peasly got us good, and not the last time either.