A Plug

Well, I know you all were looking forward to reading more about Those Days, but I'm taking a short break from that.

Right now, I'm jazzed about something else. I am a Pampered Chef fan. If you haven't heard of them, they sell kitchen products that are the most incredible and well made gadgets I've discovered. What they call their "generous" product guarantee, is actually incredible.

We received as a Christmas gift from our daughter in law, a very nice Pampered Chef casserole dish. Pampered Chef delivered it to her by mail, and in turn, she repackaged it and shipped it to us. But, during the Christmas mail rush, it got smashed. We were devastated. But when the distributor learned about it, she contacted the company. Today, we received a brand new replacement, delivered by FedEx express. I don't know of any other company that would do that, but Pampered Chef does.

Anyway, I'm thrilled. And if you would like to know more about Pampered Chef, and don't have a distributor, comment below, and I'll refer you to mine. Maybe I'll find a way to use it from the Dock.

Wednesday

In Those Days, I liked the summer time the best. Riding a bicycle, with playing cards clattering against the spokes and a transistor radio tied to the bars, to Coney Island. The more affluent folks went there. I'd walk beneath the boardwalk and look for coins that the people dropped, but couldn't find the way or the courage to go under the boardwalk. The coins I found became my ticket for the Cyclone. Summer was for stick ball and Scouting. My Mom was our Troop Leader. She made our uniforms from scratch. I learned a lot at scouting. I made things, took things apart to see what made them work, whittled a slingshot with my Boy Scout knife, and camped out.

Things seemed to change as time passed. There were songs about transistor radios, boardwalks, and ticket for rides. My children had portable radios that also played cassette tapes, and their children now have Mp3 music players. Drive in movies and video tapes were in. Scouting was all but gone, replaced private, smaller, and more specialized things for youth. And the desert was too hot to do much of anything outdoors. Air conditioning was at home, at work, at schools, and in the cars. Children got fewer clothes, but more toys for Christmas. Telephones no longer had dials, and there were extensions in most every room. Televisions were mostly color, and played around the clock. Playing cards were replaced with electric motors on some bicycles. And things were good.

Seems life for me has returned to much like it was. Gone forever are the encyclopedias, corded telephones, and audio tapes. But I still rely on my scouting skills every day, and listen to a transistor radio near the Dock while thinking about the days that were.

Tuesday

In Those Days, I almost always lived in the cooler parts of the world, either somewhere along the Right coast, or somewhere in Europe. There was always snow in the winters and I can't remember a Christmas without it. And there were always trees. I loved snow and trees. Snowmen, snow forts, snowballs, and sleds. And when the snow fell, I shovelled driveways for extra money. There were no snow blowers then, just whatever shovel I could find. Tree houses, tire swings, hollow trees, and tree climbing. And when the leaves fell, I raked them for extra money. There were no leaf blowers then.

Things seemed to change as time passed. My father was transferred to a new kind of place. The desert was a place I had only heard about before then. It was brown, few trees, and seldom did it snow. It was windy, so windy that there was no need to rake the few leaves that did fall. I never really cared for the desert, But the desert proved to be a great place to raise my family. The schools were fine, and the community offered plenty of sports and things to keep us all busy. I was always employed, which provided for toys and fun. Minibikes, soccer, tent camping, motorcycles, basketball, camping trailers, softball, motor boats, amusement parks, water skis, and ocean sailing. My family did it all, but that left most anyone outside of my family, outside.

My life now is much like it once was. Lots of trees, but mostly the evergreen tree kind. And I use a blower to rid whatever pine needles that drop. And I don't yet have a tree house or swing. It snows here every so often, but there is never a need to shovel it. It's oh so quiet here since most of my children have children and are doing it all.

I love Sittin' on the Dock of the Lake. Thinking about where I've been, how I came to be me, praising my Lord for the blessings He sent, and preparing for that day that He will call.

Monday

Mondays always started with school. In Those Days, we almost always walked to school. Not like my father said he did, 10 miles through knee deep snow, but sometimes a mile or so. Sometimes we rode our bikes, but we never had to lock them on the rack. Mom would always find me new shoes and a few clothes just before the school year started. It was the only time I ever got new clothes, aside from a few at Christmas. I brought my lunch, usually in a brown bag that I had to bring home to use another day. Some kids had real lunch boxes. I always wanted a lunch box; the real kind; the black, manly one, with the green thermos that had the chrome metal cup for a lid. Never got one though. My lunch always had a sandwich, a piece of fruit and a candy treat. The school sold milk for two cents, which Mom put in the lunch bag. The sandwich always got smashed. Often we traded lunches at school. Soon, I learned I could finish my homework while at school. That way, I seldom had to carry my books home, thereby eliminating any need for a backpack. Goober type nerds had glasses, braces on their teeth, and used backpacks.

Monday seemed to change as time passed. I left for work long before my children woke up. They were left with their mother got them up, made their breakfast, dressed them, and made sure their homework was done. We had two cars then, so most of the time, the kids got a ride to school with their mom on her way to work. My children attended many of the same schools their mother did. The schools had real cafeterias by then and Grandma-G worked there. I don't think my kids ever brought their lunch to school, which I think was the norm for kids then. And I don't think my kids ever rode their bikes to school. It was just not safe, and somebody would probably steal it anyway. Following school, the kids would walk to Grandma-G's house, which was conveniently located right across the street, and were picked up on their mother's way home. Most days, I would never see my children on Mondays until it was close to their bedtime.

For me, Mondays in Oregon, are much like they once were to me. Now days I watch as the children wait with their lunch boxes and backpacks for their bus to arrive. Many wear contacts and have braces. Some walk, some ride bikes, and some skate board, to school.

I no longer work, and I no longer have children in school, but I am at peace as I have plenty of time to Sit on the Dock of the Lake and reflect back to the days that were. The days which shaped me to what I am.

Sundays

In Those Days televisions were black and white, and had only a few stations that would be off the air by midnight and return to broadcasting about 7am. As with the telephone, most families had only one. Our family would huddle together in the evening and watch the same channel until it was time for bed. Just the same, we would gather around the telephone when Grandma called, pressing our ears close to the phone, trying only just to hear her Grandma's voice.


Sundays were special for us. Nobody worked on Sunday and every store was closed. So it was our Family Day. After Sunday School, our family we would often take a drive into the country for a picnic. We only had one car, and it was even called a "Country Squire," made just for families like ours. I always looked forward to Sunday dinner, which was usually fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy.


Sundays became different for me as my world evolved. Although I hated to work on Sunday, I often did. There were stores open, abundant color television channels on 24 hour a day, Super Bowls to watch, open shopping centers, theme parks, and two cars to allow the family to do things separately. There were multiple telephones and televisions in our home. The kids had their own bedrooms, friends, sports, and activities, each taking a toll on what Sundays were. Church, visits and calls to my children's Grandamas, family drives, Sunday dinners, all gave way to other activities. After all, you can only do so much when there is so much to do. I seemed to be always "too busy."


For me, Sundays are returning almost like what they were. More church and a stronger Faith, Sunday dinners (although it's never fried chicken), a Sunday drive (but on a Harley), or whittling a stick (but with a power tool), if I choose. Sundays are still the day I most often visit with the Family, even if it's by telephone or this electronic media.


Sunday drive what the rest of my week becomes. I've always loved Sundays, but it is my Sumday thoughts that are the best. Somehow, Mondays seem to come first though. Thinking from the Dock....

I Got Mine!

I got my new calendar. Might not sound that exciting to you, because you might not yet know any better.

It seems that my eldest grandson entered a drug awareness poster contest hosted by an Elks lodge in Colorado, and did so without even telling anybody.

Several months later, his mother received a telephone call from the Elks informing her that the poster my grandson created had won Second Place. My grandson was treated to a dinner, presented with a One Hundred Dollar Savings Bond, and a full page print of his poster was placed in the April Section of their 2009 Drug Awareness Calender.

Well, now that you know that, you must be as excited and proud of my grandson as I am. How about that! And congrats to the Elks Club ( a non-profit group I had never considered to support until now) for their work.

The Children Are Coming

Well, that didn't take long. Within days of my previous post inviting people to visit the Dock, my children and their children have booked their Spring vacation with us. How exciting is that? Better book your visit soon!



Thinking about their trip, once again sends me thinking back to the days that were. The days that air travel was only for the elite. I think I was well into my twenties before I flew for the first time. What an experience, and today I love to fly.



As a child, I travelled mostly by station wagon, with a water bag tied to the front grille to allow a cool drink when passing through the dessert. We did ride a ship when my father was transferred to Europe, but that was a troop carrier. No luxuries there. The lower ranking soldiers actually slept in their tents on the deck, but those with sufficient rank travelling with family got rooms. The rooms were the size of a closet and there were seven of us stuffed in.



I also went to school and back every day by riding in an Army ambulance (the kind you see in the old war movies; the boxy green ones with the red cross) with my siblings from atop a mountain where the Nike base was, to a train station in a small town 35 miles away (about 50 clicks as they would call kilometers in Europe). I then would take the train (a steam locomotive) to the city where my school was, and then took the school bus the rest of the way. I think the travel time each day was about 4 hours. Can anyone better that travel story?



Ah... How fortunate some are these days. For that, I thank our Lord every day right from the Dock.

What's Up Duck?

Well, I came across this photo. It was most interesting in that these ducks are unlike any ducks that I've seen from my dock. These ducks must have immigrated and settled in a more major metropolitan area. I wonder whether these were of the type that were blamed in the crash of that jet into the Potomac River.

While sittin on the Dock, I often find myself thinking about the old days; where I came from, and trying to piece together about how I came to be me.

My father, with the equivelent education of 6th grade (and 6th grade then was not like that of today where they teach Alegbra II or better), joined the Army. My mother would practice with him while he learned to sign his name in script, so he could complete the documents required by his job. He could only print, and barely read, but rose to the highest rank available to an enlisted person. I loved the Army way of life and always wanted to wear a uniform and serve my country as he did.

Mom was better educated but I don't think she had a high school diploma. She was really blessed with common sense and could figure out most anything. She was the stay at home type and ruled our home. How she could stretch a pound of hamburger to feed six children and her husband, then herself, was beyond me. I remember her showing me how to find more meat hidden behind the collar bone of a chicken back, which I do still today. Few things were had that she ever called her own. She was the most caring and giving person I had ever known, such to the point that sometimes it angered me to see her do without so that other (some more capable) had more. And I think she passed that gene directly to her youngest child.

I was fortunate to have been the oldest son. Whether it was clothing or toys, I got them first. They were usually used things handed down from others, and even more used by the time they got to my brothers. We had everything we needed, but always dreamed of more.

I suppose we all have a story. What's yours? I'll tell you more about mine next Sumday.

What's Oregon Like?

I'm often asked, "What's Oregon like?" Well, it's unlike anywhere else I've ever been.

It's sparsely populated with vast open areas. Trees, rivers, lakes, and campgrounds galore. Prestine beaches that are publicly owned. There's no walking around private resorts to the beach, just walk right through them if you please.

Caring and friendly people, most of whom volunteer their time at the many community organizations.

Simple people, few of which drive fancy cars, own hoity toity homes, wear heavy jewelry, or have had plastic surgeries.

It rains alot, but not all the time like many people think. Few use umbrellas here and seem to enjoy the weather, whatever it may be.

Most people obey the posted speed limit, don't play their car stereos at the max, but wave to you as you pass by. Everyone stops to chat, making it nearly impossible have breakfast in a diner in less than an hour.

We don't have graffiti, professional football or baseball here, but the college and high school games almost always sell out. Most everyone practices a faith.

People here are probably more liberal than the other states of the Left (As my Sista calls it) Coast states. We even have openly Gay and Transvestite Mayors in some cities.

To sum things up, I've been known to say: I've been here now for over two years and I have yet to meet a person I dislike. In my previous community, I've gone years without meeting anyone I liked.

What's it like where you live? To those of you that have my address, I invite you all to visit my dock and see for your self. To all the others, I'm not that hard to find if you begin experiencing life on the Central Oregon Coast.

Welcome to my Dock

Welcome everyone. Take a seat on the dock with me. For those that can, join with me here physically. For those that can't, imagine it. Either way, we'll kick back, toss pebbles into the water, or take a pedal boat ride while we reminisce about the old days and ways, and exchange views about the new days and ways ahead.

I'm not actually sitting on the dock at this moment, but with a future wireless connection, I soon will be. Right now I'm sitting in the loft overlooking the living room, with my attention divided between this composition and watching the Inauguration of Barack Obama. What a wonderful subject to begin a discussion about the old days and the new ones ahead. Although I did not vote for the now President Obama, I will pray for him and support him while he holds the Office.

I do find him most curious though. To have come from nowhere, so fast, to overwhelm any opposition. So, was it his his charisma? His good looks? His campain of Change? Probably a combination of it all. He certainly captured most everyone. Far more than any other newly elected President in History, at least in my times. Now I wonder, since is also half-White, had he chosen to run on a White platform, would he still have been elected by such a huge margin?

I wish President Bush the best and thank him for his service to this great country. Although he had many blunders, should we blame blame only him for where we are now? Would we perceive him in the same way if the weapons of mass destruction were found, or if the finacial crisis was delayed by a year. Was he really responsable for the lack of any subsequent terrorist attack on America? And, what was your part in where we are now? I know I had a part.

Just some thoughts from the dock.