1957 to 1965

Dad moved from Orofino back to Kamiah (Kam-i-ah or rope in Nez Perce). It was not all in one day but we spent the summer building the house and moved around school.

The house building was great. Dad took me to the lot in the morning and gave me a list of things to do and took me home in the evening. I had a water jug and a lunch pail just like a real worker (I was 11 remember).

The first task was to dig for the footings. I probably did not contribute much to any of this but it was very fun though very hard work. The lot was in an old river bed so the rocks were all round from banging together for centuries. All we had to do was dig four 30-foot trenches about a foot (30cm) wide. I spent some small part of each day using a pick to slightly loosen the material then my gloved hands to lift and toss the double-adult-fist sized rocks a short way inside the perimeter. Dad would measure with a level and tell me where more work was needed. Then, one Saturday several people came with us to the lot. We finished the trenches and poured the footings. The concrete was mixed by hand and I did several loads. There was a fixed amount of sand, gravel, and cement in each mixer load. The mixer was spun until the mix looked or felt a certain way. Then someone would pour the mix into a wheelbarrow and push it across the 2x12 bridges to the far perimeters and finally to the near one.

Some time later (more than a week) everyone got together again and set up forms for the foundation and poured them. That was much more work because it took a lot more mixing and delivering and dumping. They also formed and poured a chimney at this time.

Then, the first boards for the joisting were put in place. That was followed by the actual joists which was followed by sub-floor. The sub-floor was laid at 45 degrees if I remember correctly.

Note: out of time

Ants in my pants

Looking back it is very funny. Then, it was very frightening.

I was in the yard with my friend (Ronney H. I think) playing near with some small ant hills. I had my knees bent for quite a long time as I poked a stick at their hole in the ground and herded them around. I stood up to move on to other things when suddenly my legs began to tingle. Since I had just left-off irritating the ants I quickly assumed that they were attacking me.

I screamed as was my style and several adults came to my aid. As I complained about hundreds of ants crawling around in my pant's legs Mom took me to the bathroom to check. Of course, there were none to be found. I had just had my first encounter with that feeling one gets when the legs wake up from being "asleep". I did not realize this was the case for many years but I always remember the revenge of the ants.

Doctor Destructo

Today I would give a goodly sum to have some of the precious mementos of my childhood.

I distinctly remember the day that I took several of those now precious things out into a field and destroyed them. I thought I was being grown up by getting rid of childhood things. I was about ten years old. In particular there were two records that I have tried withoug success to find even the music for. Luckily for me, I had more attachment to books and managed to pass a most precious one on to my children.

Parents, I hope you don't have any children who acted in this case as I did but if you think you do then please tell them that some things from childhood will become precious and they should not destroy anything just in case.

Note: do spellcheck

The wood lathe

Every place we lived Dad had a woodworking shop. I was getting old enough that I could use some of the tools. I created many nice looking tiny scale military tanks and half-tracks and so on.

One day Dad invited me to try my hand at the wood-lathe. Boy, was I excited. He warned me not to get the chisel handle close to my body. As I payed intense attention to the detail of a fine line I was trying to make my chin drifted over the handle. Suddenly, whap. The chisel blade caught and was pulled downward by the turning wood which leveraged the tool across the guide which pushed the handle sharply up. It stopped going up a little after it reached my chin.

Even with that experience, I always loved wood-working.

Another well to clean

Water was supplied to our pipes from a well. Wells have problems.

Excitement describes the condition as we climbed the short hill to discover the well. It was a stone and concrete well located on a flat spot just a few feet from a small creek. Apparently, and underground spring fed the well. I can remember looking down into the fifteen or so foot deep hole to see the bottom. I guess that meant that water was running out faster than it was running in - or maybe everyone had their faucets open to drain it so the repair could be made.

Whatever repair was required was completed quickly and we soon had running water again. And I managed to come out of it uninjured.

School

I attended third through sixth grade in Orofino. My memories of school are limited, however. That could be related to my dislike for sitting indoors and for school in general.

One friend I made was Paul Ponozzo. I see his family name as I travel through there. He is memorable because he visited me in the hospital when I was there for a couple of weeks.

Three girls stand out: Suzanne Servatus, Diana somebody, and Ardella Pullen.

Ardella was the first LDS person I ever knew that I knew. Amazingly, the school (or at least my class) was all whispers about it. The noise was so intense that I asked my parents about "Mormons". Possibly, it was the whispering, but I payed lots of attention to what she did and she was a fine example of an LDS person.

Suzanne Servatus was the first girl that I knew actually liked me. I did not know it at the time but her father was a jeweler. Suzanne's hair was always so nice and she was a very pleasant person to talk to.

Diana was a redhead. The boys would tease her painfully and she would get very angry. Sometimes I would clumsily join in. That era was the beginning of my word play as I coined the unimpressive phrase "Diana-might-blow-us-up." You see the reference to explosives? You know, dynamite? Like I said, unimpressive.

I could not win at tether-ball and regularly contributed marbles to the other boys. Not athletic but I sure enjoyed the outdoors.

In the sixth grade we received crossing-guard assignments. I remember that it completely amazed me. I remember thinking "someone actually trusts me?" funny what a kid remembers.

I was in a play in either the fifth or sixth grade (or both). We enacted some fairy-tale. Probably in a second play, I needed to have Mom make an "Indian" costume. I remember tights and feathers. I had few lines but really loved the stage.

I was never sure why kids picked on me but one time I became afraid to stand at the school bus stop. I absolutely would not go there. Finally, Mom went with me and got whatever was going on stopped.

The above reminds me about our bus driver. His name was Percy and he was a wonderfully grandfatherly guy.

Eventually we moved from Orofino back to Kamiah for the remaining eight years of school.

Death of a grandfather

As amazing as it sounds today, I do not remember either of my grandfathers. I have a picture of each of them holding me as a baby but that is it. I never knew them - and that is probably for the best. As noted on the cover, my parents were unusual people and one can guess that they, in turn, had unusual parents.

I do remember when my Mom's Dad died. She was quite sad. As they made plans to go I somehow understood that it was a long way to where they were going. I naturally assumed that it would be many days.

My cousin Catherine came to baby-sit us and we had a great time. I was shocked and greatly saddened when our parents returned so soon and the fun ended.

Great balls of fire

Lightening storms were common where I lived and could light the sky in beautiful ways.

The most unusual sight I ever saw was balls of light forming on high-voltage electrical wires. The balls would move from the pole to the center like they were going down a gravity slope then finally disappear.

I saw such a sight only once in my life so far.

The mighty Clearwater

The riverbanks were a great source of entertainment for us. And sometimes a great source of danger.

On one occasion, I took my sister Carrie exploring during the spring flood. The river was very deep and very fast at this time of year. All of our familiar fun-spots were deep under water. There was a sort of flat rocky area upon which we could walk to look at many of those fun-spots. The river was racing down this flat area as I worked hard to keep my balance and help my sister, too. New shoes were a rarity so I tried to carry them above the water along with doing the balance thing. As would be expected, I dropped her shoes into some very deep water. I remember from seeing them during many attempts to reach them with a stick that they were light colored sandals with a buckle.

Now, I had to go tell Dad what had happened. It never occurred to me that I had been doing anything dangerous so I was only worried about the dropped shoes. He was not too upset about them and we went down to the river to get them. The closer we got to the river the more troubled he became. When I showed him where they were he kind of "went ballistic" and I got a good lecture about not playing in the river.

The shoes were completely repairable. Dad was used to caring for outdoor clothing so this was an easy task.

Fire in the room

The rental was heated with oil. To light it, Dad would turn on the oil and let a little spill into the burn chamber then throw in some tissue which he had ignited.

On this particular evening, he had turned on the oil with the intention of lighting it soon. Instead, there was a distraction out front (a fender-bender if I remember correctly) which significantly delayed the lighting of the stove oil. We were in bed when the stove began to roar as the stove oil came to a boil. It was a horrible noise. Dad ran into the room and shut off the oil and the noise rapidly declined. I thought he was very brave.

This is the first time I have really reflected on that house. Having a heated room at night was quite nice.

The Conroys

Our landlady and her son, Bud, made an interesting contribution to our lives.

She had a television, the first I remember seeing. We were invited over on Saturday morning to watch it. I do not remember any programming but we often took advantage of it.

I remember being quite mean to her one time. I can't remember the exact circumstances but she irritated me greatly as I walked along the road by her front yard. As a result, I decided to pretend to throw rocks into her lawn. She called the police who interviewed me (and my sister) and we explained that we were only pretending because she had treated us so badly. I guess the air was cleared because we continued to associate.

Bud was at least eight years older than me and could be quite mean. If it had only been gleefully beating me at checkers game after game I would have been content that he was normal. Three events convinced me otherwise: he hanged me with bailing twine, buried me in a state gravel pile, and threw me off a porch - and worst of all, watched gleefully as a pet cat died after being cut in half by a hay mower. One sick guy and I decided I never wanted to be like that. He must have been an amateur scientist because he completely enjoyed trying to explain that I did not really exist because of quantum mechanics.

From our place, hers was logically west, followed by a horse field and the barn where I was hanged, followed by the mighty Clearwater River.

Lionel and chemistry

In Riverside I was given a gift that kept on giving pleasure. It was an 027 gage Lionel train and a few feet of track.

I could play with it for hours. One of my favorite activities was to put a pair of popsicle sticks on either side of a section of track (in the space between the floor boards) and join them with a large rubber band. Then I would place the engine alone on the track and run it into the rubber band at top speed. The engine would slam into the rubber band and bounce back several inches.

Over the years, Dad helped me build a layout on a 4x8 plywood sheet. I built a grade and a tunnel myself. I bought automotive choke cables to work the switches. It was to be an unfinished masterpiece, however. While I went to college then work then marriage and family, the train stayed tied to the ceiling in Dad's shop. Over the years and events, the train disappeared.

A closely related side note: a white powdery substance covered the rails of the engine at one point when I used the train during highschool. I asked Mr. Sather, my science teacher, how I could figure out what the powder was and he showed me how to test for aluminum oxide. The white powder was aluminum oxide.

New school and neighborhood

I remember crying as we passed the one room school with the kid out at recess. The sawmill was to be shut down and Dad was without work and we were on our way to live with Uncle Art for a short while.

Here, at the joining of the Clearwater and the Snake rivers on the Washington side is a small town named Clarkston. Across the River is Lewistown. These towns are obviously named after Lewis and Clark. In the 1952 era I had lived just a few miles from where the explorers of "Undaunted Courage" actually exited the forest that nearly killed them. Now I lived in twin towns which honored their names and, even more, their survival. I say that because if they had died somewhere in the forest then the towns probably would have had different names?

My cousins were such good company. I had enjoyed times with them near the 100 thousand acre woods and would here too. Patrica was older than me by several years and Catharine was just a year or two older and Rita was a little younger than me.

I met another playground nemesis in Clarkston - the carousel. Even as I think of it I get dizzy. My wonderful peers (though possibly not with malice) invited me to get on and let them spin it and me around. My extreme sickness would indicate that I must have had my balance problem from early childhood.

Some blood was spilt when Rita's heels somehow became lodged against the rear wheel spokes of my older cousin's bicycle. It was a heart rending sight for a second grader. The skin was terribly red.

It was here that I learned to fear spiders. One of my cousins (I think it was Cathy) was bitten by a spider and it made her quite ill. There were ice packs to slow the blood's motion up her leg. There was considerable concern. The suspect was the "black widow".

Very few memories would probably indicate a very short stay. But, in retrospect, I am grateful to Uncle Art and family for taking us in. From there, we moved back up the Clearwater River to Orofino. The name is Spanish and means "fine ore" which implies that the town was at one time a mining center.

Dad rented a modest house in Riverside. Our short stay with Uncle Art would include my only regular contact with an indoor toilet until I was about 12 years old. The rental did have running water so no more trips to the well or melting of snow. Our landlady was Madaline C and she had a son named Bud who was in highschool.