Birthday Eve Ruminations

The Clearwater River looking down
on the Greer Bridge

Well…, I was going to say that I have now put my sixty-second winter safely behind me.  But after the winters that most of the folks east of me suffered through in the winter of ’13-’14…, I won’t be making any rash weather predictions.  Monumental snow and cold in the mid-west and northeast…, drought in California and Texas, hurricanes and floods, disappearing glaciers and the arctic ice pack.  There are still a good many politicians that are climate change deniers…, but nobody with a lick of sense or smidgen of self-respect will try to deny that what we have been doing…, and are continuing to do…, to this poor old planet is causing anything but great damage.  And there are some well-respected and credentialed folks like James Hanson and Guy R. McPherson who say that what he have already done has pushed us past the tipping point of being able to do anything about stopping runaway climate change in the not so distant future. 

So I will try to drown that sobering thought with a few more ice cold Hamm’s as I wait for midnight to officially put my sixty-second year behind me…, and listen to a great song from Tom Russell that brings back a lot of old memories.

Dave McIntosh

Born on 6-19-56
Passed  11-22-13

The last few years I have been doing a bit more than my share of bitching about getting old.  But last weekend after I completed the chores and was feeling ever older, I had a few cold beers in The Saddle Bar(n) and I started feeling a little frisky and particularly witty…, so I thought I better go into the house, log on to Facebook and have a little fun.  Yeah…, I thought I had a couple of good one-liners to post up and hope for a few “likes”.  Then I saw that an old friend, Dave McIntosh, who was four years younger than me…, wasn’t going to get any older.  The only words I could muster to another dear friend and his partner of 20 plus years were, “Oh my gosh Ellen…, oh my gosh…”.  And it still isn’t easy coming up with any words.

We called him “Snake” when he was a high school freshman playing basketball.  A little on the skinny side, mostly knees and elbows, but lightning quick, and sneaky too.  In the later years after high school, he put on a little weight and was a big, raw boned, lanky, fireball throwing fast pitch softball pitcher.  Unfortunately for our Fraser Hippie ball team…, he played for the Timber Inn from Pierce.  I’m sure it is a result of my old age and the Alzheimer’s that I can’t recall for you all the hits I used to get off him!!! Yeah…, Dave would get a laugh out of that one, for reasons I swear..., I can’t recall.  But he was easy to get a laugh out of.  In fact he was always laughing…, well…, almost always.  .  I do remember that one game when he was just learning to pitch…, and having a little bit of a control problem.  Of course our team was getting on him about it and he started getting a little frustrated, and like sharks smelling blood…, we laid it on.  You could see that he was getting mad…., and my cousin Jimmy started calling him “Mad Mac”.  Dave pretty much lost it there on the mound and said, “I’ll see you after the game Spencey!”…, and that wasn’t all he said.  When he gets up near those pearly gates on that field of dreams he is on his way to…, he’s gonna have some explaining to do about his language that day.  But after the game, he laughed it off…, and we were all real relieved.  Yeah…, he was always trying to make a joke out of everything.  He was always the life of the party…, though he wasn’t trying to be…, he was just trying to make sure that everyone was enjoying themselves as much as he was.  None did…, but it wasn’t for his lack of effort to make it so.

I never had the pleasure of working on the same logging crew with Dave…, but I have no doubt that all the glowing reports of his abilities, efforts and ethics that I heard from others in the business were true.  I can attest to the fact that he could be Johnnie on the spot and keep his cool in a pressure situation though.  I mentioned his role when I wrecked the crummy in the Robert Earl Keen story and video…, and Jimmy’s wife Debbie let me know that was only half the story.  Dave had to drive Jimmy and I on home that night.  I cropped out the missing finger on John Thompson’s left hand in the photo above…, Dave and another friend just happened to be on their way to Orofino when they happened upon the accident that resulted in the loss of that finger.  He got us to the hospital and a scene there that we needn’t describe here.  We got to have a good laugh about that one when I got to see him and John this summer out on the North Fork.

Dave wasn’t a singer or musician like the fellow in this Eagles song…, but he was certainly an entertainer who touched a lot of hearts.  So, this one’s for you Dave…, and for you too Ellenor.

One More Mountain To Climb..., One More River To Run

While putting together the “Tribute to Julie” video I went through a lot of old pictures from back in my “running days”..., and was reminded of my feeble attempt to write some song lyrics one night at our hunting camp at Weitas Meadows.  If I had met Julie around that period of my life I would probably have been writing it for her.  The truth of the matter is..., I was wishing I had a girlfriend to write it for.  If I had known her then my life would probably have been a lot different.  Anyway..., here are the lyrics and some old pictures.

One More Mountain To Climb..., One More River To Run 

Raindrops are fallin' on this old canvas tent

Are you still wonderin' just where it was I went?

Huntin' season’s almost over, tomorrow there’ll be snow

I’m sittin’ here sippin' whiskey, wonderin' where to go?

Maybe I’ll head south, just followin’ the sun

Hope you’ll forgive me someday, for what it was I done.

There’s just one more mountain to climb, one more river to run

I’ll be back to get you babe, when I find that shinin' sun.

But I can’t be happy with you, until I’m satisfied with me

I’ll be back to get you someday, just you wait and see.

Guess I should have stayed that mornin’, just to say goodbye

But knew I couldn’t leave, if I had to watch you cry.

Remember almost drownin' in the rapids, below that rocky point?

We laughed about it later, as we passed around a joint

But that night as I held you, by the dyin' campfire light

I could feel you holdin' on just a little bit too tight.

There’s just one more mountain to climb, one more river to run

I’ll be back to get you babe, when I find that shinin' sun.

But I can’t be happy with you, until I’m satisfied with me

I’ll be back to get you someday, just you wait and see.

The horses are gettin' restless, guess it’s time to hit the trail

Next hunter headed out, I’ll have him drop this letter in the mail.

Can’t say that I would blame you, if you hate me now

But if you can hold on a little longer, I swear I’ll make it up somehow.

And I was lyin' just a little, in that line about goodbye

The truth is babe, I didn’t want you to see the teardrops in my eye.

There’s just one more mountain to climb, one more river to run

I’ll be back to get you babe, when I find that shinin' sun.

But I can’t be happy with you, until I’m satisfied with me

I’ll be back to get you someday, hope you’re still waitin' there for me.

A Tribute to Julie

This is one of my favorite Tom Russell songs.  I don't know why it wasn't included on his "Anthology" double CD set.  It is off his "Box of Visions" album..., and from the first time I heard Heart of Hearts it had special meaning to me.  I had been single all my life, always on the run, until Julie and I got together in 1987 when I was 35 years old.  I've written about Julie and our life together in a couple of pieces here on the blog..., 40 Year Class Reunion and My Wife..., Julie..., and you can get a taste of what my life was like before we got together in Robert Earl Keen.

The photographs of dubious quality are a result of trying to take pictures of old photos with a digital camera.  The first half of the pictures range from Missoula, MT, to Orofino and Weippe, ID, Glacier National Park, on a sailboat on Priest Lake in Idaho and rafting on the North Fork of the Clearwater River.  I hope that they demonstrate that I had, "... always been the running kind," as Tom says in the song.  It wasn't that I stopped all that running when Julie and I hooked up..., but I had the best running partner I ever had.  The pictures of Julie were taken around Forks, WA and our nearby ranch on the Quillayute Prairie and on Prince of Wales Island in Alaska where we spent a few seasons in a logging camp at Labouchere Bay.

I hope you enjoy viewing and listening to this as much as I have enjoyed putting it together.

Me and Jimmy..., and Robert Earl Keen

I’ve written about a couple of my favorite singer-songwriters here on The Quillayute Cowboy blog; “Tom Russell” and “Growing Old with Jackson Browne” and mentioned a few select others like Bruce Springsteen and Jimmy Buffett.  I also mentioned that I don’t buy much new music these days because my hearing has deteriorated so much that it is hard for me to understand the lyrics…, and that’s where it’s at for me, mostly.  So, when this guy named Robert Earl Keen kept popping up on my Pandora station that I have keyed to Tom Russell…, and I began to catch a few well-turned phrases and liked the sound and rhythm…, I started to pay more attention.  Keen has a distinctive sounding voice…, a southern drawl with a nasal twang that is easily identified when you are browsing other web sites and hear one of his tunes.  One night I caught the lines:

        “I lived in Corpus with my brother

        We were always on the run

        We were bad for one another

        But we were good at having fun.

We got stoned along the seawall

We got drunk and rolled the car

We knew all the girls at every dance hall

Had a tab at every bar.”

"Mountain Mayhem" by Gary Bond

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Gary-Bond/169488203230476?ref=stream

https://www.facebook.com/1gary007

It must be some 26 years since I left the Clearwater County area of Idaho and when I have managed to get back there for short visits, it is a struggle to see all the family…, let alone catch up with all the old friends.  Facebook has been quite a tool for connecting with some of those long lost friends.  There has been some pleasant surprises along the way…, and such was the case a couple of weeks ago, when I discovered that an old friend was a published author.

My Mom - Wanda Spence

                                                                                       Wanda Kautz..., senior class picture

                                                                           Born  January 29, 1932.   Passed. November 10, 2006

The email address was just identified as “Debbie”…, and the subject line was blank. So I was a little leery of opening it, even though there was no attachment.  After some bad experiences I had learned to screen my emails through my service providers email program before I let them through to my computers email program, so I opened it.  It was from “Debbie Wisell” and she said her father was “Blan. Lawler” and we were related through my mother somehow.  She asked me to call her.  I thought it was a bit unusual for a phishing email…, and there was something about the Lawler name that had what few remaining, live brain cells I have, running a few laps in my head.  I didn’t have to ponder the problem long.  A day or so later there was a message on the phone machine that explained things a little better…, and I called Debbie back.

My mother was born Wanda L. Kautz on January 29, 1932 in Boise, Idaho.  When Mom was not yet two and one half years old, her mother Effie L. Lawler Kautz, passed away at the age of 20.  Since Mom really never got to know her own mother, there wasn’t much talk about her or any of her family.  Debbie was the first contact I had with anyone in my maternal grandmother’s family.  Debbie said that Effie and her father had been twin children, so he would have been Mom’s uncle and Debbie and Mom would have been cousins.  Debbie was excited to talk to me and wanted to know if I had any pictures or stories I could share with her.  This is my attempt…, and thanks for asking Debbie.

                                                                              Effie Lawler Kautz - Lester Kautz
                                                                                                                   Wanda Kautz 

I don’t know a lot about Mom’s early years in Boise after her mother died.  She spent a lot of time with her “Aunt Ollie”, from the Kautz side of the family, and who was more like a mother than an aunt.  I am not sure how much a presence her father, Les Kautz, was during that time?  Les and his brothers Al and A.J. were always into some sort of business venture or other and it took them all over the northwest.  I believe they were partners in a lumber mill in Weippe, Idaho for a time, had a gold mining claim in Sandy, Oregon, and Les and Al were owners of the Elk Horn Bar in Weippe.  Anyway, Mom came to Weippe on the bus about the time she entered high school and lived in a room above the barroom where she could hear all the songs on the juke box.  One of the stories she told was that she knew the words to the songs better than her friends, but her feelings were hurt when one of them commented that she “couldn’t sing a lick!”  I know the feeling.  I love the lyrics, but I don’t have a clue how to make music out of them. Mom always joked around that the only reason Dad married her was because he thought he would inherit the Elk Horn!

                                                                    The Elk Horn Bar

Mom may not have been bestowed the gift of musical ability, but she had the gift of intellect.  She was valedictorian of her 1950 graduating class, though I never heard her tell anyone that.  She didn’t tell me, I discovered it by seeing it in her high school annual.  She was also voted Most Likely to Succeed, Best Sport, and Most Willing to Help.  For some strange reason I didn’t inherit those traits from her…, and a high powered criminal defense attorney let me know it one time.  My lawyer was one of those guys who had been around so long and seen and heard every pitch from every bullshit artist there was, he could size people up in two minutes or less.  And be spot on about it.  I learned a lot from him about making honest, fact based assessments of people and not relying on emotional bias.  That has served me well throughout my life, and that day he made me feel like a fool for not realizing just how smart my Mom was.  I don’t remember exactly what I said, but he stopped me cold and let me know that if I didn’t realize how intelligent, capable, talented and resourceful my mother was, I didn’t have much of a clue about anything at all.  Well…, he was right about me then…, and probably now, if I was willing to admit it.  I will admit that I never played pinochle with anyone over the years who was any better at keeping track of every card in the deck during a hand than Mom…, or anyone who knew how to get more out of a poor hand than her.  I will refrain from mentioning her competitive spirit, as that might necessitate other admissions on my part regarding the won/lost history.

                                                           1950 Weippe High School Annual

I may not have inherited her intelligence..., but there is no doubt that I got my love of sports from my Mom.  She was involved in baseball and basketball all through high school.  Her and some of her friends got caught smoking cigarettes in the restroom one time.  Their punishment was to write a many thousand word theme before they would be allowed to participate in a ballgame…, and there was one the next day.  Mom said she was up all night writing that theme because she wanted to play in that game so bad.  Later in life, there were no men in the community willing to coach a little league baseball team when my brother Larry turned old enough to play…, Mom stepped up and coached the team.  My senior year we got a new football coach and he had two a day practices.  I envisioned a battle of epic proportions with my Dad over the few weeks of working for him that I would miss because of that.  There isn’t much doubt in my mind that the one and only thing that stood between him and I and prevented that battle…, was my Mom.  He never said a word about it to me…, and he never saw me play football.  My Mom did though.

I am pretty sure that Mom attended a semester of college in Lewiston, ID at North Idaho College of Education (now Lewis-Clark State College) on a scholarship courtesy of her valedictory status in high school.  And I believe that she gave up that scholarship to another gal who could not afford to go without the scholarship.  Mom intended to marry Dad anyway, and she did that on July 7, 1951 in San Luis Obispo,  CA.  Dad had been drafted into the Army and was stationed nearby at the time.  I entered the scene at Camp Cooke,  CA on April 19, 1952.  After Dad got out of the service, we moved back to Weippe and my brother Larry made his appearance and completed our family on February 7, 1954.

                                                        Scott R. Spence          Larry Spence
                                                      Wanda Spence     Alexander R. Spence

Weippe was a small town of just 705 people when we were growing up and it lacked many of the amenities of more populated towns…, like a swimming pool.  The nearest one was 25 miles away in Orofino, so Mom and a few other mothers in Weippe organized summer “swimming lessons” of the kids in the area.  Once again, Mom had to step up and drive one of the school buses that got us to Orofino and back for a month or so every summer for many years.  The sight of a woman driving a school bus may be common today…, but in the early 60’s it was anything but common.  A few years later she hired on as a real, full-time school bus driver, and it was still many years later before you began to regularly see women in that line of work.  When the Jaype Plywood Plant began hiring women in the late 60’s, Mom was in the first group hired.  She didn’t work there a full 30 years, though my Dad thought she should.  Mom could read the figurative writing on the wall that the company was getting ready to close the plant down before she would reach that 30 year mark…, and she took an “early” retirement, with 20 some years tallied, when it was offered.  As always…, she made the right call.

It seems to me that whatever she did, it was in support of one of us.  Never for herself.  Whether it was coaching a baseball team so my brother could play, or driving a school bus down the Greer Grade (that spooked well-seasoned truck drivers) with 50 screaming kids at her back, so they could enjoy some safe summer swimming as well as learn a skill that could save a life along the many waterways that we frequently fished.  She was right there beside my Dad in helping found and support the Weippe Rodeo Association for many years.  She participated in the Parent-Teacher Association and 4-H when we were active, helped get the Weippe Wranglers Saddle Club organized, and helped out with the Hilltop Motorcycle Club.  Working full-time curtailed some of those activities…, and by that time we were getting to the age where a mother’s presence was more of an embarrassment than an advantage anyway.

                                             TL - Mom at work              TR - Dad, Mom & Me
                                    BL -Keith, A.J., Mom & Dad      BR - Surprise Birthday Party

My brother Larry provided her with some grandkids during the 80’s and I know they brought a lot of joy to her life, but I never had any kids and moved to Forks, WA in 1987.  I didn’t get to see a lot of Mom after that.  Even the visits for Christmas or other holidays became ever less frequent as her health was deteriorating through the 90’s.  She had a couple of heart surgeries, and after the last one she unequivocally said that she would not go through that again.  In the 00’s a lot of folks believed that she was joking when she would talk about wishing there was a “click-out pill” that she could take and end it all.  She couldn’t even play cards any longer because the Alzheimer’s was taking such a toll and she was on so much medication that she just never felt good.  She was determined that she was not going to die in a hospital or a nursing home and made my Dad promise her that.  Close to the end I made it to Weippe for a few days and when the time came to tell her I had to get back home to Forks, she said, “I think I’ll just stay here.”  I must have given her a funny look, because she asked, “Where are we?”  I told her we were at The Ranch in Weippe.  She laughed and said, “Shoot…, I thought we were in Hawaii.”  I like to think that the Alzheimer’s made her forget what I told her…, and she stayed in Hawaii.

That Championship Season

My old friend Mike Green sent me some old Weippe high school pictures that he found along with a newspaper clipping from one of our football games.  They brought back some old memories..., yeah..., I do mean OLD.  I’m sure he won’t mind if I share my email response to him with all of you.

Thanks for the pictures Mike..., and the newspaper clipping.  Julie called me at the job to tell me about them.  I was somewhat surprised.  She won’t even open a Christmas card that has both our names on it.  Not so with your letter.  Ripped open no less.  Maybe she thought you had sent some new juggling toys or something.  She still has the balls you sent several years back, hidden away from me so I can’t practice.  She says she is going to show you a thing or two next time she sees you.  Yeah.., she remarked on your penmanship…, and yet again, asked me why such a good looking guy like you isn’t married..., but she didn’t ask me about the touchdown mentioned in the clipping.  I guess she was just being considerate of my modesty and reluctance to talk about my athletic feats of accomplishment and my natural tendency to shy away from self-promotion in that regard.  I was honest with Julie.  I told her that I didn't remember THAT touchdown.  She may have thought that it was because I scored so many that a mere 5 yard scamper so paled in comparison to the many more memorable long distance scores.  But the rest of the story..., as Paul Harvey used to say..., is that I don't remember ever scoring a TD.  I threw for a few at Timberline my senior year..., but don't recall any, in any fashion, at Weippe.

Christmas 2012

I wasn’t going to wait around for Santa Claus again this year.  After all…, I’ve been waiting damn near 10 long years since we put a roof on The Saddle Bar(n) and there is still no Big Screen TV with Home Theater Surround Sound out there.  And my poetic license has expired on the statement in my “Tom Russell” piece about acquiring a new CD player.  I had the best of intentions when I wrote it, but I still didn’t really have one.  After the many years of disappointment regarding the Big Screen TV, I just didn’t think I could count on Santa to deliver even a simple CD player this year.  Maybe I should cut ole Santa a little slack since I seem to be a bit remiss myself.  But damn it…, that’s his job…, and this writing stuff is only my sometimes pastime.

The Camper Barn

It felt good to slap on the leaky rain gear and get out in the first monsoon of the season to clean up the horse manure that had been accumulating in the pastures while I worked frantically to complete The Camper Barn before those monsoons arrived.  Hey..., it's election season..., and lying is not just accepted..., it is expected.  But I am telling you the truth..., and nothing but the truth.  Vote for me.