Highways and Byways

Highways and Byways

Highways and byways
Old and new
Some less traveled
Some with a view

From old familiar places
Up hill and down
To wide open spaces
And around town

Thru hot sandy deserts
Or cold mountain snow
Some are fast
And some are slow

From border to border
And between coastal shores
Lie many old favorites
To visit once more

No matter how varied
From beginning to end
Highway signs show where you are
And where you have been.


Marion Bigelow December 2011

So How Does YOUR Garden Grow?

KimB

The weather here in Central California has been cold recently. We've had almost no rain so it's a good thing I opted to put in a drip system for the container garden. Mostly I've been able to ignore the garden. Didn't seem to be much going on. The all plants sprouted and so did the potatoes. The current freeze at nights has wilted some leaves but there's little I can do about that. I figured, "Oh well, something might survive."   Little did I know....

So, as I was planning on what to have for our New Year's Dinner I took a stroll out to look in the pots. All seemed as it did before except the carrot tops looked just a bit taller. So I rooted around the pots and LOOK WHAT I FOUND!

KimB's Carrots and Turnips

The Recipe Box: Harvard Beets

Harvard Beets
From the recipe box of Esther

This recipe is the one that Mom used to fix beets and that I liked so well. It was a favorite of every one I think.

When I think of the big gardens we use to have when we lived on the acerage and the cost of buying veggies today, it reminds me of how far we have come from the good old days. Life was much more simple then but look how much the new gadgets have saved us from the hard labor---like the old scrub board!!!

Harvard Beets

1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup vinegar
1/4 cup beet liquid
2 1/2 cups cooked beets, cubed or sliced (I use canned beets)
1 tablespoon butter

1. Combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a one quart sauce pan.
2. Add vinegar. stir untill smooth. Add beet liquid.
3. Cook over medium heat, stirring till liquid just begins to thicken.
4. Add cube or sliced beets and cook for four more minutes
   or till beets are hot.
5. Add butter.

Harvard Beets

Snowfall by KimB

Snowfall

It glints and glimmers,
Shakes and sways,
Like gossamer falls on towns and ways.

It gifts us lakes,
Creeks and swamps,
It flows like air o'r base and top.

We feel the burn,
And the bite,
By the day and across the night.

From below,
And from the heights,
It drapes the land: white on white.

It comes, then goes,
And leads the heat,
Changing form with every beat.


KimB 2010

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 10 - Epilogue by R. Cane

I hope these reminiscences have offered a pleasant glimpse into our tribe's wonderful travels back in the good ol' days. These and other travels with the family brought me to the early conclusion that 'Travel', per se, was the very best educator - for those receptive to the wonders of new horizons.

Sadly, I was never able to actually get to Jawbone Canyon (yep… vetoed for 'another time and trip' by Grams, The Decider), however I hear it's become quite a popular get-away place, and worth the effort to get there. So... now we have come full circle - to the part where I finally have a dog in the game! It's my turn to offer suggestions for the best roads to get you there... pay attention here, and don't miss the connections.... To get there, AND make the best time (most important of course) take...

… I-10 to 395 and take a right before 6 (approx. 100m) there's a good stretch where you can do 70...watch for the turn off at the home made motorcycle sign (where the old gas station used to be) continue until you find paradise – about 100m at 60mph – ( voice fades out here still rattling off numbers)...

Well… y'all get the idea by now… Do send a postcard if you ever make it there – I have heard there might be some good jawbones to be found by those with keen eyes… and good hearts!

It has been nice going back to these dear memories, and fun sharing my musings about a most wonderful and carefree time in my life.

Happy Travels!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is the last of a 10 story series.]

Jawbone Canyon Sign

Golden Leaves

Golden Leaves

A cluster of golden leaves
among the green
Hangs like a star amid
the leafy sheen
Kissed by winter,
yet to come,
Signals Autumn's
Farewell song
Of brilliant colors,
bright and strong,
To greet the Winter's
Chilly snow
That blankets all,
While cold winds blow,
'til Spring time's warm
And sunny light
Sprouts again, the green
Of Summer's life.

Marion Bigelow Nov 5, 2011

Happy Holidays!



Happy Holidays!

The Recipe Box: Mock Apple Pie

Mock Apple Pie

From the recipe box of A.Nonymous

One of my favorite pie recipes is the infamous 'Mock Apple Pie'.

No apples are in this dish, but because of the spices that are used, it seems similar to an apple pie. Historians date this pie to the early days of the American pioneers, when apples were in short supply. Crafty settler women stumbled into a recipe that embodied the spirit of an apple pie when the red, green and yellow orbs weren't available. Today, clever cooks follow their lead when their own pantries come up short.

It is made with saltine crackers, and the several times I've tried it, it is so amazing that you almost never 'get' that it does not have apples!!

Its a fun, budget desert, that will fool your friends. It's easy to make and surprisingly good. Here is this vintage pie recipe made with saltine crackers and apple pie spice seasonings.

Ingredients:

pastry for 2-crust 9-inch pie
1 sleeve saltine crackers
2 cups water
2 cups granulated sugar (or use your favorite sugar substitute equivalent)
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1 tablespoon butter
cinnamon

Preparation:

1. Line a 9-inch pie plate with rolled-out pastry. Break saltines coarsely into the pie shell.
2. Combine water, sugar, and cream of tartar in a saucepan; bring to a boil.
3. Simmer for 15 minutes.
4. Add lemon juice and peel; cool.
5. Pour the syrup over crackers.
6. Dot with butter and sprinkle generously with cinnamon.
7. Cover with top crust and flute edge.
8. Cut slits into top to allow steam to escape.
9. Bake in a 425° oven for 20 to 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and crisp.
10. Serve warm, with ice cream, if desired.

Mock Apple Pie

Theater: A Christmas Carol by Richard

Frances and I went to the theater to see the play, A Christmas Carol at the San Jose Repertory Theater (November 23 – December 24 2011).

Waiting to go in, the whole cast came out and sang several Christmas songs which was delightful. They finished with We Wish You a Merry Christmas walking into the theater waving us in for the play. The play was enjoyable and the cast was wonderful.

During the play my thoughts would carry me back in time to our home in Iowa at Christmas when we all decorated the tree with pop corn on those cold wintry days.

Wishing you and all a Merry Christmas and Happy, Healthy New Year.

[Editor's note: This story was written by Richard]

(l to r): Richard Farrell as Scrooge
Everett Meckler as Tiny Tim
in San Jose Rep’s A Christmas Carol.
Photo: San Jose Rep Staff Photographer

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 9 by R. Cane

It was growing dusk, with a beautiful blossoming desert sunset. The roadsigns were getting harder to read... but ever eager to try and stir up a side trip, I was earnestly announcing up coming possibilities... with great hope that I might get a bite... "Look - just ten miles to the cave"... “Historical marker ONLY 2 miles? Wonder what it is!?” It wasn't long before I said... "Oh look, there's Jawbone Canyon - just 2 miles".

This seemed like good prospecting potential and there might be a temptation. At this point I need to point out that I was thinking in terms of fossils and rock hunting when I gave voice aloud with great earnestness … 'Gee... I wonder what's in Jawbone Canyon?"

Grandad mused over this a moment, then got that famous twinkle, slowly turned to me and replied dryly… "Jawbones!”

I busted out laughing, and soon we both were all in stitches, and in spite of trying to hold back, grandad was roaring with laughter too. In moments we were laughing so hard he had to pull over… We commenced a second round of laughing at this, and I loved it! This was one delightful exception to 'making time', because this was a 'GRAND time!!

I cherish this memory, and I am smiling as I write this. This particular story has made its' way into family folklore for any 'dumb' question... as in 'Are you asking 'What's in Jawbone Canyon'?'... our version of 'Who's in Grant's tomb?'. Asked and answered... at the expense of a good laugh at myself.

So... now y'all know the secret of why just the very mention of the name 'Jawbone Canyon'... brings a warm smile to some in our tribe!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

The Recipe Box: Rice Gruel

Rice Gruel

From the recipe box of KimB

Rice Gruel is also known as Rice Porridge or Congee is a type of rice soup often eaten for breakfast in Asia or when you have stomach flu or other gastrointestinal upset. I learned about this dish from my Chinese friends and after much skepticism gave it a try. It is now a staple for whenever my tummy feels “unhappy”.

The basics are simple: cook the rice in a large amount of water until it almost disintegrates. Options you can add are: fresh ginger, cilantro, chicken or anything that you think will “sit” if you are feeling ill.

The basic porridge will be very bland. I prefer to add salt after cooking to taste, especially if I am not feeling well. Later on, as I begin to feel better, I will add in other items.

Rice Gruel

Rice Gruel Cooking


6 cups water
1 cup rice

In a large pot bring the water to a boil.
Add the rice.
Bring back to a slow simmer and partially cover.
Cook for 2 to 4 hours.

Add more hot water if needed to keep the rice in a “thick soup” state.

Rice Gruel Porridge or Congee




The Road To Tucson - Part 2 of 2 by KimB

First time travelers in the desert learned really fast that you don't travel by day. After about 10 AM the heat becomes really noticeable and shortly there-after you'd wished you had stopped at that seedy little motor court you sneered at as you passed it by. And with no other hamlets within hours and hours, you learned and burned your way to the next wide-spot-in-the-road and headed to whatever accommodations you could get, no questions asked, and hoped for at least a swamp-cooler to temper the desert's wrath.

Evenings were for travel, and at sundown the roads would fill up with savvy travelers heading farther and farther into the the desert. The temperature of the desert would plummet as the sun faded away and driving would be enjoyable. You couldn't see much but at least you could be comfortable while heading to your destination.

Our car had a radio but out of the main cities there was no reception. The shot-gun-seat rider would often turn the knobs vainly looking for something to listen too, but generally, only static was found. We found our own entertainments, watching license plates, counting box cars in passing freight trains, animal-vegetable-mineral guessing games and other amusements.

But most often we sang songs for the long hours of driving the highway. We knew lots of them and we each took turns suggesting a song and then we would sing it – all three of us. We would sing the same song multiple times as we practiced to get it “just right” or “what was that phrase again?” or “remind me, how does that go?”. The longer the song the better – all 9,000 verses of Barbara Allen was a favorite. If we muffed a verse we started over “from the top” to get things in the proper order. Later on, my personal repertory of songs was large enough to entertain drivers for 3 days without repeating a one - unless requested of course.

My brother often wrote his own songs and we all enthusiastically helped sing them as we traveled the highway. Sometimes we had a collaboration: Mom, me and my brother would work out a song together; topics, phrases, melodies would be reviewed and best lines chosen and we would sing the resulting song for hours but many of these faded away with the sunrise. A few lasted and became staples along with the English muffins. We sang them each time we traveled the road and laughed about our adventures as we headed towards the horizon and Grandma's Cafe.

Grandma's Cafe
[to the tune of Botany Bay]

It's not leaving Los Angeles we care about,
Or driving the highway all day,
It's the blooming monotony that wears us out,
And the prospects of Grandma's Cafe.

[Editor's note: This story was written by KimB and is part 2 of a 2 part series.]

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 8 by R. Cane

Gramps taught us all about the geology of Death Valley - the alluvial plains , the scarred canyons, the scorching salt flats, and was a walking encyclopedia of geological and mineral knowledge.

Grandad was a self taught prospector and knew all kinds of stuff about geology, and minerals. He had even found, and made some mineral claims near Death Valley that he had successfully sold. A genuine prospector!

The history of the earth was of great fascination to me... I had seen the La Brea Tar Pits often as a child - and I loved learning about ancient times ... Gramps knew all about it (claiming he'd been there for most of it - being older than dirt don'cha know) and loved to teach me about the history of the earth, it's geology and such.

In one of these lessons he explained that Death Valley, and most of the deserts, had been inland seas or oceans at various times. He would pique my interest further by sprinkling his answers with tidbits like .. ' there are many neat fossils to be found by someone with a keen eye walking and kicking up stones' - I was fascinated. Wow - an inland sea ... and now dry as a bone .. walking on the ocean floor as it were! He was able to fill us with the wonders of nature! This was how I became an avid 'rock-hound'.

Farther up one of those endless desert highways, I pondered out loud at the long sweeping power lines that we passed – those awe inspiring huge transmission lines and towers. The span between the towers was long, and the huge cables would sag pronouncedly. I was also quite curious why each cable had a huge orange ball in the center of the sag? After puzzling what they were, and why they were there... I said "Grandad... those orange balls on the wires? ... What are they for?" ... and Gramps thought for a moment - and then said ..with his famous twinkle .... "Why those are floats to keep the lines dry at high water!"... It took me a moment to realize he was having me on... and then we both laughed at the cleverness of the answer and gullibility of the questioner, and just as quickly he added they were big weights to keep the lines from swaying in high winds.

A bit of fun at my expense and then a straight answer. What a guy!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

Power Lines in the Desert

Bamboo Leaves

Bamboo Leaves

Black lace against a moonlit sky
Reversing patterns when the sun is high
This lovely leaf of fragile lines,
Named a friend of plum and pine,
Is strong in spirit light in touch.
An art of nature and painter's brush
Renowned in legends, myth and rhyme
Admired now as in ancient times.

Marion Bigelow November 9, 2011

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 7 by R. Cane

We found ourselves ambling thru Death Valley - a favorite trek of grandmother's who loved Scotty’s Castle.


Scotty's Castle Death Valley

I was often the official map-navigator - a cherished connection to the travel and magical highway numbers, when I saw a feature on the Death Valley map called Ubehebe Crater. The map photo and blurb said it was a huge Crater where an ancient meteor struck lo, many millenniums ago. I found the name amusing , so I suddenly began an impromptu chant out loud …. "We-got-the-Ube-hee-bee-jeebies" … in a sing-songy way ... over and over. Well this didn't go over all that well with my captive audience, who I believe were the first to actually get the 'Ube-hee-bee-jeebies'! Just to make me quit - we made a rare diversion, and went to the crater - but only on the promise I wouldn’t chant anymore!

The Crater was astounding- what amazing power to make a hole a 1/2 mile across and 600 hundred feet deep .. the glassy sand was quite slippery - micro-beads of lava glass ... and while it was tempting to go down into bottom of the crater, after a few steps in the nearly liquid-esque and highly slippery lava beads, it was immediately clear that getting back up and out of the crater might be quite problematic... and I had a flash thought – this crater might be one of the reasons why this was called Death Valley'!!

With that thought in mind we were quickly back in the truck and on our way … and well over the 'heebie-jeebies'!!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

Ubehebe Crater Death Valley

Parallel Universe

I'm not cognizant of all the whys and wherefores of scientific research into mass and matter, quantum mechanics, string theory, black holes and time. Neither am I schooled in the principles that allow computers and other technological devices like touch pads work, but it seems to me, that we are living in a parallel universe ignored by scientists as they search, study, think and talk about the possible existence of them in outer space.

Some where I picked up the notion that computers work on a kind of magnetic field that we have learned to control and expand. After we learned to connected these fields, a private circuit of communication developed. Then a very smart person came along and suggested that rather than keeping the technology private, it would be a good thing if people and businesses could communicate with each other. The worldwide web was created.

That was also the beginning of a parallel universe.

We mail virtual letters, transfer virtual money, read and write virtual books, patrol the skies with virtual security, practice virtual espionage, indulge in virtual porn, create virtual businesses, buy and sell virtual stocks, create virtual art, give virtual lectures , earn virtual degrees, play virtual games, listen to virtual music, etc. etc. etc.

Our lives are dominated by this virtual world of substitutions. If any part of this parallel universe is tampered with, lost, compromised or stolen, we have virtual panics.

But all is not to be deplored. The data of virtual reality is used to create the many physical needs of our physical lives. Last night on the television news, I heard that virtual data will tell us where to plant trees and how to build structures that will withstand the intense heat and cold climate change is bringing. That certainly will be a benefit to the human race as we continue our existence in two worlds.

Parallel Universe



The Recipe Box: Roasted Garlic Artichokes

Roasted Garlic Artichokes

From the recipe box of KimB

One of our local restaurants serves a wonder dish of grilled artichokes. I have always eaten artichokes steamed with dipping sauce but this was so delicious that I had to make my own version.

The artichokes are steamed first then placed in an hot oven with olive oil and garlic and herbs until everything is nice and hot. The heat will take down the “bite” of the fresh garlic. The result is an artichoke that needs no additional dipping sauce but you will need to lick your fingers to get all the tasty juices that drip from the choke.


Ingredients:

steamed artichokes
fresh minced or slivered garlic
dried Italian herbs – basil, rosemary, thyme, oregano
salt
olive oil
aluminum foil

Cooking:

1. Set oven to broil
2. Cut the steamed artichokes in half – lengthwise
3. Make a "tray" from the foil and set inside an oven ready dish
4. Drizzel a small amount of olive oil in the bottom of the foil
5. Place the artichoke halves in the foil tray – cut side up
6. Drizzle olive oil over the artichokes so that it can seep into the petals
7. Sprinkle the garlic, herbs and salt over the top of each choke
8. Place the dish in the oven for 10-15 minutes or until the chokes are hot and the garlic softened.

Eating:

There is no way to eat these without getting messy. The oil mixture will drip from the petals as you pull them apart. If you don't like the dripping oil on your hands you can use some disposable plastic hand gloves available from Walmart or Costco.



Roasted Garlic Artichokes



The Road To Tucson - Part 1 of 2 by KimB

"All roads may lead to Rome" but for us, "All roads led to Grandmother and Grandfather". Well not "all" but a "lot".

My Grandparents liked to sample different parts of the US and lived in many parts of the country. They moved and moved often. When Grandmother decided it was time to check the grass on the other side of the fence, they would bundle up their belongings and head that-a-way.

Mom inherited that gene too, and we traveled just about anywhere she could get the old Corvair van to go and primarily in the direction of Grandmother and Grandfather. We took side trips here and there but Grandma's was The Destination of choice.

While we were living in Los Angeles, Grandmother and Grandfather had moved to Tucson, Arizona and opened the Saguaro Corners cafe there. So, it was no surprise that we should travel to visit them there and we traveled the road from LA to Tucson as often as Mom could field the money for gasoline.

Gas in those days was about 12 cents a gallon. That's right: TWELVE CENTS. I remember Mom doing a U-Turn to go to a different gas station when the one she drove into was charging 13 cents. Sounds a dream, but in those days, minimum wage was really low and $300/month salary was a pretty good deal.

The first roads we traveled to Tucson were not the Big Interstate Highways that there are now but small 2 or 3 lane roads heading east out of LA into the vast desert that lay between the LA basin and the Cafe.

The high speed was 50 mph though we were lucky to get to 45 in our car. It took a long time to travel the distance between LA and Tucson. If Mom could stay awake we might do it in less than 3 days, but it was hard driving. There wasn't any power steering so you really had to “hold the wheel to hold the road”. Some of the cars had clutches and manual shifts on the steering wheel. The clutch on one car was “touchy” and Mom had to double-clutch it to change gears. The cars supposedly had shock absorbers but most were just hard-ridin'. Every bump, rut and pot hole was a source of terror and fun: fun for the bounce, terror that you might break something and be stuck.

There were no cell phones or wayside call boxes. If you broke down or had a flat, you had to hope a passing motorist would stop and give you a hand or take a message to the next town's gas station/repair shop to come and get you. Sometimes folks would stop to help you change a tire or donate some water for an overheated radiator. We met lots of really nice people along the way.

Truckers were known for their courtesy and willingness to stop and help out whoever was stranded.

Need a ride to the next town? Hop in!
Would you like me to change that tire for you? No charge!
The road ahead is not good, take the detour at this junction!

Truckers were the gods of the highway and bestowed blessings on everyone as they made their way from here-to-there.

Cars rarely had mechanical air conditioning and ours had the standard 450AC System – 4 windows down at 50 miles per hour. There wasn't any tinted windows or polarized sunglasses either and facing the rising sun as it came up over the flat desert horizon meant everyone in the car had to help watch for obstructions as the driver could not see all that well until the sun had risen a bit higher.

Every traveler carried extra water for when the radiator overheated in the baking sun. And those that could, had an evaporation water bag draped over their radiator caps or dangling from the hood ornaments of their cars in front so that the cooler air would flow over the radiator in hopes that it wouldn't overheat.

Tires blew out regularly and inner tubes had to be patched and repaired often. Finding a tire repair shop open and willing to do business at all hours of the day and night was an adventure in its self. Patching inner tubes was an art form and good patches lasted a long time. The red patch would be glued to the surface of the inner tube and then the tube stuffed back into the tire. If it held air you were good to go. A good patch would hold until the next nail forced a stop at another tire repair spot. Bad patches meant you didn't get far before starting the hunt over. If you had a bad patch and were lucky, you didn't even get out of the driveway before the patch failed and they would have to re-do the patch for you. Sometimes it cost as much as $3.00 to get the tire patched – a ransom!

You had to carry your own vitals and supplies because you might travel for hours and hours and never see anything other than the slowly changing landscape. If you wanted a sandwich, you had to make it yourself because no one stopped. If you stopped, the 450AC would stop too, so you had to make your meals on-the-move and we carried our most popular items in a grocery bag on the front seat where the shot-gun-seat rider could make the sandwiches to-order and hand them to whoever was hungry. Peanut butter, English muffins and a Coca-Cola was the standard fare.

The Coca-Cola came in glass bottles that had a refundable cash deposit so no one threw them away or out the window. The empties would be placed in another grocery bag and turned in at any grocery store to help fund the purchase of the next 6-pack. It was guaranteed money and just tossing them in the trash was unheard of.

[Editor's note: This story was written by KimB and is part 1 of a 2 part series.]

Glass Coca-Cola Bottles

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 6 by R. Cane

Long bouts of silent meditation and enjoying the grind of travel were interlaced with an occasional 'oh look - X is just up ahead 12 miles, that might be REALLY interesting to see !?' (hope hope)... we loved the roadsigns and billboards - I think it was the artist in all of us - and I recall especially enjoying smaller and home made signs for various gas stations, diners, hamlets .... curiosities and attractions (Grandad and I had made many signs over the years for various businesses of his - so we appreciated what it took to actually make your own signage).

We always looked for the Burma Shave type signs, and loved home made ones ones with the folksy touch, you know, the kinds that would say 'Eat, and get gas!'

On these long trips - part of our job was to keep the driver alert, so when Gramps was at the helm, - and sis and grams were back in the camper resting, I would be alone with Gramps. This was a cherished time for me. I always enjoyed this time alone with him, as this was the perfect time to ask him about 'stuff'. How does it work? What is it for? And such like. Grandad always had good answers, that really made you understand whatever it was. He and I had a wonderful explorations and chats about cars, horses, cowboys, mechanical stuff, electronic stuff and endless stuff of interest to us 'guys'.

This was a marvelous benefit of the long hours of driving and boredom. He would explain everything to me with great care and detail' such wonders as; how radios worked, ham radio stuff, guns, hunting, fishing, camping and so many other things a 14 year old was curious about. I loved to hear about his youth - comparing his to mine. We spent seemingly endless hours talking about everything, with wide ranging questions and answers about the whys and hows of 'stuff' - what a wonderful education! What a wonderful man!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

Burma Shave Sign



The Blanket

MrsB with Knitted
Log Cabin Blanket

I finally finished knitting the queen size blanket my daughter wanted. There were trials and tribulations along the way but I'm proud to say I can now be listed among those who have knitted a log cabin blanket.

Knitting the 16 squares that made up the star design was a mile stone and I was pleased with the achievement, but when I finished sewing them together, I was shocked to discover that the star design was off kilter!

I checked and rechecked the pattern. Each square was knitted properly with the correct number and color of logs so why in the world wasn't the star layout correct? My knitted squares looked like the photo in the book. It was a major quandary to say the least.

After sewing the 16 squares together, the blanket was nearly finished, needing only a narrow border to be queen size, so the only thing to do was finish knitting it. Regardless of the design, the blanket would be as warm as it would have been if the star had been correct.

As I knitted the border I discovered in my rush to finish the blanket that I had knitted one corner a fraction too long and again, I realized the error was beyond repair, so I gathered the stitches creating a tiny ruffled corner.

I also came up with the idea of knitting little patches to sew on top of the 4 intersections of the center squares making the star design more prominent. It helped. Besides, the colors were pretty.

I wrote a poem to go with the blanket and I think she likes both.

Click here for the Star Light poem

MrsB's Knitted Log Cabin Blanket

The Recipe Box: Coleslaw Dressing

Coleslaw Dressing

From the recipe box of MrsB


Since nothing is measured, the recipe takes practice.
Depending on how much slaw there is, the ingredients amounts vary.

Teaspoon of sugar
Add enough vinegar to cover
Add a bit of milk to thicken mixture
Add mayonnaise*

*I prefer Miracle Whip Light

Coleslaw Dressing

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 5 by R. Cane

Wanderlust was inculcated in me on these family forays, but it didn't hurt that I was nearing the age of driving, and all things about driving - shifting gears ... when to pass ... how to pass .. how to 'double clutch' , were of keen interest to me .. and Gramps was a good teacher... needless to say, I was always looking for any chance to drive .. it was a big deal for me to be allowed to re-park the truck or move it for any reason ... and on really remote roads Gramps would let me drive for 10 miles or so .. ecstasy to a 14 year old!

On some of the longer and more tedious desert treks ... we would see side roads meandering off into nowhere... and it was fun to guess where they went and who lived there - what was there, and even why it was there at all? What ever would entice folks to live in that place ?

Often, If there was a road sign announcing an interesting attraction or landmark, we would all take note, but rarely would we ever take an unscheduled side trip. This happened only when Grams would insist - since Gramps' main idea of travel was 'making time' – with one eye on the clock, and ever intent on matching or beating his previous times from point A to B. No slippage in the family travel-time standards was to be allowed without good reason! No matter however, since Grams was the 'decider', and if she could be interested or inveigled to join sis and me in an interesting side jaunt, then grandad would - albeit grudgingly - take the side excursion.

Often, when we were lobbying to stop, or take a break, or even actually visit a roadside attraction, we would read aloud the contents of adverting or road signs. By giving voice to these 'lures' - we were certain to get Grams' up or down vote - "That does sound interesting, Dad lets turn here and see ....", but usually Grams would be tactful, and ever mindful of the need to 'make time'... would reply ... "well ... we can keep that in mind for the next trip" to a resounding sighs of feigned disappointment by me 'n sis.

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

Debris aka Garbage

Something is out of whack in the way we live. It's been out of whack a long time. I don't know just when it started, but maybe it started with the industrial revolution. Maybe it started when guilds became corporations.

All I know is: there is the 1 % and the 99 % and I don't know how things are going to get straightened out.

It seems to me that part of the problem is what people call 'consumerism', meaning the 1% produces things and the 99% buys things. It has gotten so bad that the country’s economic system requires more and more people buy things so the 1% can continue to produce things.

In order to do this, the 1% has gone global to find markets in which to sell things. That's fine, but the problem is, the the jobs went global as well. The 99% lost the jobs which earned the money with which to buy the things and now, they can't even afford to pay for shelter, food, medicine or education. The 99% want their jobs so they can earn money to pay for necessities and buy more things.

We are inundated with things. It seems as if our motto is: if one is good, 50 is better. Used clothing given to Good Will is shipped overseas rather than clog our own land fills. Planned obsolescence is the policy of many manufactures, including those of autos and refrigerators. New versions of iPads and televisions are praised as clever inventions and we rush to update from the old.

We even have debris falling out of the sky. Now we are waiting for the debris-berg from the tsunami in Japan to reach our shores. I have no idea what the impact of that will be.

It seems as if things are getting whackier by the day. Maybe the 99% will find the answer to so much wackiness. Lets hope!

"You can't make Nothing into Something and you can't make Something into Nothing. All you can do is transform One Something into Another Something."

KimB

The Recipe Box: Steamed Artichokes

Steamed Artichokes

From the recipe box of ElGato

Cooking artichokes is not hard, explaining how to eat them takes a bit longer. They can be eaten hot or cold. Artichokes may have some “discoloring” on the leaves but this has no effect on their preparation or taste. This is the basic recipe for steamed artichokes.

Ingredients:

fresh artichokes
1 tsp fennel seeds

Preparation:

1. Snap off some of the tougher outer leaves to expose the larger ones underneath.
2. Using scissors cut off the tips of the larger petals to remove the thorn on the end.
3. Using a knife slice about 1/2 inch off the top.
4. Using a knife trim the stem so it will fit in a steamer.
5. Gently pull the choke to open it slightly for washing.
6. Wash thoroughly.

Cooking:

1. Boil water in a double boiler or one that can hold a steamer gadget.
2. Add 1 tsp of fennel seeds to the water.
3. Place the chokes in a steamer stem side up.
4. Place the steamer in the pot with the lid on.
5. Cook approx 20 minutes or until tender.

Dipping Sauce:

You can make any variety of dipping sauces. Here are few variations we like.

Ingredients:

mayonnaise
red or rice wine vinegar
garlic powder
pesto

• Mayonnaise (plain)
• Mayonnaise with a dash of vinegar (red or rice wine) (a looser dip)
• Mayonnaise with garlic powder (garlic powder mixes better)
• Mayonnaise with pesto

How to eat:

The inside base is the tender part of each petal.

1. Peel off a petal from the artichoke.
2. Dip the base of the petal in the dipping sauce if desired.
3. Place the base of the petal between your teeth.
4. Lightly pull the petal to scrape off the tender portion.

Artichoke Heart

Continue to peel and eat the petals until you come to a dense small cone of fuzz. This is the “choke”. Under the choke is the “heart”. This is the most flavorful part of the artichoke.

1. Using a knife or spoon, scoop away all the fuzz.
2. Strip off any exterior tough skin on the stem.
3. Eat the heart and stem.

Cleaned and Trimmed Artichokes



My Pen by KimB

My Pen

With my pen I do write,
Although, oblivous to the night,
Of poetry so mild and sweet,
Who's words do rhyme and do meet,
In occasional sentences,
Of remose and repentences.

My pen goes on without a thought
Of what to write and what to not.
Should I write of gallant souls
Who fight and struggle in Death's throws,
Or of a soul who's lost in vain,
Or of a love who's found the same?

Ever onward goes my pen,
Pausing every now and then.
And then with faster speed ascends,
To hurry and put down this night,
Whatever words it thinks to write.

Ever faster my pen goes
Into every space it flows,
The ink and words without space or time,
Who's only ends are words that rhyme.

KimB circa 1969

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 4 by R. Cane

The grandparents had retired, and traveled around the country extensively in a classic old Ford F-150 pickup truck, onto which they had installed a deluxe live-in camper. You know, the kind where a big part juts out over the cab of the pickup truck, and has a house type door in the back.


Camper Truck

Inside there was a lovely and efficient little kitchen - with sink, stove, and a Servel dual gas and electric refrigerator (which fascinated my mechanical side to no end - this marvelous technological duality). There was also a table with bench seats on either side, which area converted to a double bed, and of course a nice double bed in the overhead part. Four folks could fit in it nicely, usually, depending on which pets, friends, or cousins might be also traveling with us. Over the years, sis and I found ourselves frequently in this home on wheels, as the grandparents took various getaway weekend trips, or made runs to visit various of our aunts and uncles. Sometimes - on some of the longer trips - we were able to plan or connive side trips – for educational purposes - to visit various monuments, historical sites, battlefields, parks and campgrounds or other natural wonders; The Grand Canyon, Painted Desert, Death Valley, Yosemite, Crater Lake... and far too many parks and attractions to be recalled here.

Clear Lake - was a frequent weekend favorite, where friends and relatives allowed us the use of their cabins for a few days at a time. The drive was long, but soon all landmarks and roads were memorized - the tricky turns and twists - side roads or roads known only by landmarks (make a left where the old store used to be) and ... well, once there.... then we would fish ..and boy would we fish ... grandad and grams both fished ... although Gramps really was in charge of 'drowning worms' as he called fishin' ... but now I digress ... I'll come back to this in another tale.

Of course getting to these various places required many miles of driving... and it was quite a juggle to decide who would ride in front with Grams and Gramps. There was just a good ol' bench seat for 3 in the truck cab, so there was a rotation of who would ride back in the camper. Being the oldest, it was usually my lot to be stuck in the camper as we cruised the roadways. This was not such a bad deal, with the exception that we could not communicate from the truck to the camper.


Pit Stop

We dreamed of walkie-talkies ... but in those days they were really expensive, so always remained just a wish.... I do recall many frustrations of trying to alert, or communicate, from the camper to the truck, or vise versa. No problem today with cell phones, but this was long before such existed. We simply had to wait for the next gas station or rest stop to talk to each other.

In spite of the communication problem, I passed many pleasant hours spent stretched out on the over-the-cab bed. I would daydream and muse over the issues and challenges of my growing up, all the while watching oncoming traffic, and enjoying the passing landscape. Being 'stuck' in the back turned out to be a perfect refuge, that allowed for introspective thought, reading or just daydreaming. I really loved laying in the big bed over the cab, and looking out the windows letting the world – literally – pass by.

Irreplaceable, and wonderfully great memories! What a way to travel.

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

'merikin

I speak 'merikin and have difficulty understanding the spoken English dialog of British movies and television programs.

PBS often schedules a British tale, a series of episodes in period costumes, manor houses, butlers to families who have fallen on hard times or are experiencing a crises of reputation. As the story unfolds, family members stroll thru park like gardens or ride in ornate carriages reinforcing the importance of the family's social position while the downstairs staff is confronted with a crises of their own. The PBS mystery series of Inspector Lewis is also British fare. As they walk the halls of Oxford, the detectives discuss clues, or the lack of them, in British English.

Just because my 'merikin is English it doesn't mean the Brits and I speak the same language.

It seams as if the R is silent in Brit English and my listening span is tried to the limit if actors begin to speak British slang or make references to inside national gossip that is not understood by outsiders. Closed caption and sub titles help but it doesn't keep currant with the conversation taking place on the TV screen.  At times one is put to the test of deciphering the meaning of a phrase, when a person whose native language is other than 'merikin, speaks English.

A country's language is comprised of all the dialects and regional pronunciations spoken in that country and I suppose others find our southern or mid-western idioms and accents just as difficult as I find some of that 'other' English.

Common 'merikin dialects:

• California English
• Texan English
• Appalachian English
• New York dialect
• Yinglish and Yiddish words used in English

and there are a lot more:

• Wikipedia list of dialects of the English language

11-11-11

Today is Veteran's Day, we used to call it Armistice Day.

When I was in school, the whole student body assembled in the large assembly hall and stood at attention when the teachers signaled that it was exactly 11 minutes past the 11th hour on November 11. For one minute we bowed our heads and said silent prayers in honor of those killed in the first world war. After the ceremony in the assembly hall, school was let out for the rest of the day.

Today people think it's a day that will bring luck. Since we have fought so many wars and 'police actions', soldiers that survived them, probably do feel lucky.

Since the date is a palindrome, meaning it reads the same backwards and forwards, it inspires mysticism. A movie with the palindrome as a title, was popular as a horror movie about a portal opening to hell.

With our two unfinished wars, we will add the names of more soldiers to honor for their sacrifice. As we look forward to ending those, the threat of another war looms as politicians talk about the nuclear threat from Iran.

It's sad to think we have had to use a collective word like 'veterans' that covers all the past and future 'engagements' we undoubtedly will have if the past is any indication of our future.

Remembrance Poppies

The Recipe Box: Strawberry Syrup and Spiced French Toast

Strawberry Syrup and
Spiced French Toast

From the recipe box of KimB

We had planted strawberries in our summer garden pots and while we got quite a few, they were small in size. As we only got a few each day, I just air dried them and saved them in a storage bag until I decided what to do with all these teeny weeny berries. After they were air dried they were even teenier and weenier and I thought I'd never find something useful to make with them.

Then I came upon the idea of making syrup out of them. You hardly ever see good quality flavored syrups offered in coffee shops these days and many don't even have “fake” maple flavored syrup either. So I set out to make some great syrup.

When you dry the strawberries you should peel off the leaves and stems. This will make it easier to work with later. I did not and so I had to rub off the dried leaves before I started to work with the berries. That isn't hard and Allen said it looked like I was shelling peas as I picked up each micro-berry and rubbed it with my fingers to break off the leaves and stems.

Dried strawberries do not rehydrate well so you can run them thru a grinder/food processor to powder them, but I left mine whole. If left whole they will not disintegrate when cooked but end up as pulp. I use the strawberry pulp/compote like jam on bread, biscuits or english muffins. The flavor will be intense!


Strawberry Syrup

A lot of dried strawberries (cleaned of leaves and stems) [1-2 cups of dried berries]
1 cup of water
1 cup of sugar

1. Boil the water and sugar.
2. Add the strawberries.
3. Cook on slow simmer for 10 – 30 min or until the syrup is the consistency your prefer.
The syrup will thicken by evaporation and the longer it cooks the more flavor the syrup will have. You can add extra water as needed.
4. Separate the pulp from the syrup using a strainer. You will have to “help” push the liquid out of the pulp. Place the syrup and pulp in containers and keep refrigerated.

Spiced French Toast

cinnamon
ginger
cardamon
cloves
nutmeg
2 eggs
dash of milk, soy milk or cream
2 slices of good quality bread
pat of butter
optional: powdered sugar

1. Cut the bread on diagonals.
2. Rough stir the spices, eggs and milk together.
3. Heat the butter in a good sized skillet until it starts to sizzle.
4. Deep dip the bread segments into the egg-spice mixture until well coated (might get a bit soggy) and fry them until the egg has cooked thoroughly and has a nice color.
5. Top with powered sugar, syrup, jam or apple sauce.

Serve immediately.

 

Strawberry Syrup and Spiced French Toast

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 3 by R. Cane

The glories of the automobile, and travel in general were keen stuff and well appreciated by our bunch!

The Nut Tree

Sometimes travel routes were chosen that let you especially pass by favorite eating or rest spots -often by grandma's vote on her select and favorite diners or gas stops - remember the Nut Tree? Oh, don't forget the ever important certain clean bathrooms! . All this was accounted for and was essential in the planning, and really good stuff to know - so I listened intently .. but then - inevitably - when it got to the actual chosen travel route, it would always be announced we'll take .... and then utter a string of numbers - sounding much to my ears like arcane math equations .. something sounding like this would be offered up ...

Highway Signs

"Take 101 to 152 (about 60m) – you can do 70 in some spots, then 99 to 58 (roughly 100m) – good for 65 most of the way, or 6 to 395 to I-15 or i-40 or I-10 to ...(300m) - total.. umm - about 8-1/2 hours should do it!" – this required some quick ciphering.... Let's see now ... if a car traveling north at 40 mph travels 10 miles, then goes west for 20 miles .. well you get the idea, as did I – the light bulb lit, and oh my gosh ...traveling was MATH!

At various points in our youth , sis and I lived with our grandparents, whilst mom was off on exotic adventures. Now this wasn't altogether a bad deal. In exchange for not being in on the 'adventurizing', we got the wonderful experience of being with our Grandparents, living in a stable environment for school and such. However, our tribe was well endowed with “wanderlust”, so travel was a big part of the grandparents lifestyle. Sis and I got into our own fair share of travel adventures with them on holidays, or the myriad travels to relatives and kin.

I'm convinced there is a 'Nomad Gene' in our tribal family DNA?!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]

Old Map of the Los Angeles Area


   

Radio Listening

I haven't listened to the radio in quite a while. I have several that can be used with electricity and/or batteries if a hurricane causes a power outage, but until then, they are gathering dust on a book shelf.

Radio used to play a big part in the family's entertainment. Years ago we school children and Dad came home for lunch every day. If we wanted a ride back to school with Dad, we had to wait until the noon news was over and Dutch Reagan, (later President Reagan), had given the sports scores.

After school was out, we listened to Jack Armstrong, the all American Boy and Little Orphan Annie before we went out to roller skate or ride the bike. I don't know if Mom listened to the soap operas, but the whole family would gather around the radio in the evening and listen to programs like Fibber Magee and Molly, and Jack Benny. On Saturday nights, The Barn Dance Frolic in Des Moines, Iowa broadcast live western and cowboy music similar to the Grand Ole Opery in Nashville, Tenn.

Long before transistor radios, my husband and I had a battery operated radio that we could play when we went to the beach. It was so heavy my husband carried it and it only played for a very short time before the batteries gave out. Transistor radios solved that problem and you could carry them in a pocket.

Listening to the car radio on a long trip across the country was both enjoyable and frustrating. Stations faded in and out. One would suddenly pick up broadcasts from Salt Lake City or big band music from New York as you turned the dial trying to get back a frequency that had drifted.

Radio is often used as background sound and every category of music can be heard.

One evening, while my sister, Adeline and my son were playing her favorite card game, Spite and Malice, a local Tucson, Ariz. radio station played a song that caught their attention. They phoned the station and requested the song several times. The disk jockey always obliged and played, “You Got The Right String, Baby, But The Wrong Yo Yo by Piano Red”.

Right string, baby
But the wrong yo-yo
Somebody knockin' on yo' do'
I passed this mo'nin' by the hardware sto'
I bought a brand new string
To fit in my yo-yo

Went on down to the doctor
To get this string put on
He turned around
And put the string on wrong
No need a-knockin' on nobody's do'
You got the right string, baby
But the wrong yo-yo
(piano)

Mama tol' me, papa did, too
'Some-a these here women
Gonna be the death of you'
'Better find out which 'un you crave, son
Some a-these here women'll
Take you to yo grave'!

See me comin', baby
Put yo' man outdo's
I ain't no stranger
I been here, befo'

No need a-knockin' on nobody's do'
The right string, baby
But the wrong yo-yo

The Recipe Box: Mac and Cheese

Mac and Cheese

from the recipe box of MrsB

Someone told me Thomas Jefferson had a pasta machine and made his own macaroni. I Googled for more information and discovered that it was true. He also served it at state dinners when he was president.

Macaroni and cheese has long been an American favorite and there are many ways of preparing and serving it. It was one of my childhood favorites and when my sister and I reminisce over our family recipes, we always mention mac and cheese.

It is still one of my favorites but I am a lazy cook these days and make something I call 'mac and cheese' because that's what it is. Just cooked macaroni topped with a slab of cheddar cheese and quickly heated in the microwave. I am an expert at timing the microwave so the cheese is not melted but only softened enough to mix.

Mom always baked the macaroni with milk and diced cheese but it's often served with a rich cheesy sauce. Fabulous variations of macaroni and cheese can be found on the internet and it seems everyone has their special twist on the old tried and true.

Browsing recipes on the internet can be quite enjoyable since many are demonstrated on YouTube. The following is an excellent YouTube video address from foodwishes.com showing steps to each stage of a mac and cheese recipe.

Foodwishes.com
Thomas Jefferson Style
Mac and Cheese

1 lb elbow macaroni
3-4 cups of grated sharp Cheddar cheese, or whatever
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup flour
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp cayenne
1/8 tsp white pepper
1/4 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp salt
pinch of nutmeg
1 tsp Dijon mustard
3 cups milk
1/2 cup Panko breadcrumbs plus 1 tbsp butter

So How Does YOUR Garden Grow?

KimB

The latest news on our winter garden is.... WOOTS!

KimB's Winter Garden

Grandma's Cafe by KimB

My grandparents ran a small cafe in the desert outside Tucson, Arizona. Actually, they ran it several times with breaks in between for other business ventures.

The original Saguaro Corners was a small cafe with gas station on the outskirts of Tucson, near the Saguaro National Monument. It was really the only thing out there and only a few visitors came by if they were sight-seeing at the park but Grandmother's cooking brought the local cowboys and ranch hands out whenever they could get a chance.

Red Diner Stools

The cafe had just a few stools and a counter area and a small table to sell curios or souvenirs to the tourists who braved the long dirt road that undulated over the gullies for miles and miles. Only the bravest of drivers would dare to drive the road fast and those that did were glad that Grandfather was able to repair their tires when the inner tubes blew out.

There was a single telephone box out in the parking lot. Yeppers, a REAL phone box. Glass sides and a sliding door. A phone book hung from a chain and actually had all the pages in it too. There was a light inside that turned on when you opened the door, but you had to be careful not to step inside too quickly because it was often occupied by some of the local fauna. Grandmother once got stung by a scorpion when she stepped inside without checking.

The parking lot was dirt and periodically oil would be ordered to be spread on the surface to keep the dust down. Now a days this is unheard of, but way way back then it was common practice.

All around was just desert. Well, the desert isn't just desert, there's a LOT in the desert if you take the time to look.

Grandmother and Grandfather and various family members helped collect all types of cactus specimens and transplant them to a cactus garden at the restaurant. They got some of everything and more of some than others. If someone found an interesting cactus that could be moved easily then it was added to the garden area. Soon it was a miniature version of the park across the road.

I remember one particular outing where they had found a "smallish" saguaro cactus about 8 feet tall and wanted to move it to the cafe. Even a small saguaro isn't all that small and they weigh tons. The cactus stores lots of water inside and they had to be careful not to damage any part of it while digging it up, moving it and planting it in the garden. I remember a lot of discussion and a lot of digging and hours of watching the family members shift the 8 foot cactus which weighed a lot more than anyone had expected. Eventually they got it to the cafe and added it to the collection.

They also built a small concrete watering basin outside under some palo verde trees. The local wild life and free range cattle and horses soon learned that water and shade could be had there and every day they came to drink and rest under the cool trees. Quail, cotton-tails and jack rabbits came, as well as the local road runners. Horned toads lived under the basin and kangaroo rats skipped near by.

I had a special rapport with the local wild life. I would sit very still at the pool and soon all the wild animals would come out. I could pet the horned toads and the rabbits would hop right next to me. The cattle would come to drink and give a sniff at my hair and puff their breath over me. The free range horses would tower over me but never stepped on me even though I was so small. I sat very still and didn't move. Soon they all forgot that I was even there and I could just watch them for hours.

Grandmother baked great pies and the ranchers taught her how to make chili the way they liked it: HOT. They came for chili, coffee and pie. Even on the hottest of days, it was hot chili, hot coffee and a piece of pie. It was simple fare but not so simple to prepare. Grandmother would get up early in the morning to start prepping for the days meals.

Once she helped me make a few small 4 inch berry pies. She showed me how to make the dough and roll it out in the miniature pie forms. Then we piled in the berries and put the top on it. Into the hot oven it went along with the rest of the days pies. Later that afternoon, she came out to find me and told me a lady wanted to buy my pies. I remember going into the cafe with her and the lady was very hopeful I would sell her the little pies. I hesitated a bit but I knew Grandmother could use the money so I agreed and the lady gave the money to Grandmother. Grandmother made sure I had my reward and every day she gave me 10 cents to spend in the cold soda machine.

Old Soda Machine

The soda machine was outside near the gas station part of the building. It was an upright machine and the sodas were all in glass bottles. I remember Grandfather putting the bottles into the machine and when people stopped for gas they always bought a cold soda even if they didn't go into the cafe for food.

Every day, I selected one soda from the machine with my 10 cents. I always selected the same kind: an ice cold strawberry soda. It was bright red in color, very sweet and had loads of fizz. I would take it into the cafe and ask for two straws. I would put the straws on each side of my mouth and pretend I was a vampire drinking blood. Grandmother would just smile at me and shoo me out when I'd finished my treat for the day.

Sometimes my brother and I would find an interesting piece of dead cactus. These we would bring back to the cafe and we would clean and sand the outside until it was smooth and shiny. It was something we did in the evening as we didn't have any television there. Often visitors would buy the sanded wood and turn them into lamps and my brother was always working on new pieces to have for sale.

At night there were no city lights to block out the stars. We would sit on the patio that Grandfather had poured and talk about the days adventures. We could hear the coyotes singing in the distance and occasionally a deer would come to the pond to drink and then scamper off again. Above us was the Milky Way and I remember how Grandfather would point out the constellations to me. The stars were so very bright and when the Moon was out you could see the long shadows of the trees and cactus all around us.

[Editor's note: This story was written by KimB]

Milky Way and Saguaro Cactus
Tucson, Arizona

Tribal Travels, Musings, and Jawbone Canyon Chapter 2 by R. Cane

Knowing, learning and understanding these 'road codes' was - to my young mind – ultimately all an exercise to 'make time', in other words find the fastest way – a legitimate reason to be lead-footed! It seems all my uncles and family wore their competitiveness on their sleeves, and were always vying to break their time records!

Grandad claimed he once drove a new Hudson Hornet - with the boys - virtually non-stop from the East Coast to California in 2 days - only taking time for the boys to swap drivers, get gas and eat. This was long before 'fast food', and super highways - done on old farm roads and route 66 ... This was a danged & amazingly good record - and it was grandads, and It set the bar very high!

I learned that 'Making Time' was crucial and anything that might sidetrack or attempt to divert from the planned trip was to ever be avoided. Grandma understood this trait, and early on taught us - by example when traveling - to keep a coffee can available, since there would be no stopping until we get to point X !!

Grandad loved a good fast car! He was a good driver but he did enjoy a lead foot at times. Grandma would be concerned about his speed and would forcefully say 'Dad ...the limit here is 65!" ... and Grandad would usually get that ol' twinkle in his eye and sardonically reply .. "Well ... I'm doing every bit of that!" Grams would be exasperated, but Gramps kept that foot on the gas! btw - no one had cruise control in those days ... you actually drove the vehicle! Sometimes he would tease grams by claiming the highway sign was the speed limit – as in 'great, now we can do 101 mph' ! This usually got a resounding 'humpf' from grams. He really excelled at speeding on rural roads – especially when grams was sleeping in the back and couldn’t see the speedometer...

Of course hearing gory glory stories about the bad old days of travel always kept me rapt in my youth, with many harrowing tales of close calls on the infamous “Grapevine Hill” - 'back in the day' … runaway trucks, failed breaks, fog, juicy multi-car pileups and all that kind of fascinating stuff. I loved hearing about the problems encountered and the solutions. This was good stuff.

Grandad told me when he was young he drove a coal truck making deliveries in Kentucky, and he would be so overloaded that going up steep hills he would put the truck in 'double granny' low gear and walk alongside on the ground outside the truck – reaching in to the steering wheel thru the open door. I know it sounds unlikely, but he swore that it happened several times...What a cool move!

[Editor's note: This story was written by R. Cane and is part of a 10 story series]


Road Sign



Plan D update

I've been making headway on my mission to knit a queen sized log cabin blanket for my daughter.

There have been a few false starts on joining the new color logs but after counting stitches several times to get the right count, I've managed to keep on track and things are lookin' good! I'm working on the 14th of the 16 squares needed.

The light at the end of the tunnel is still a long way off though. I still have to sew the squares together and then knit a border.

Log Cabin Knitted Squares