Is Gun Control the Answer?

This was from an email newsletter to which I subscribed in late 1999-2000's.  There was a school shooting - a six year old boy shot a six year old girl.  The author of the newsletter posted about it and received hundreds of replies.  He posted some of them - including mine.  There is no one right answer about shootings - in schools or anywhere else.  There are no easy answers.  There are no bandage fixes.  I wrote the below essay in March of 2000.  Things have only gotten worse since then.   

To: "purehumour"
Subject: [PureHumour © ] Gun Control...??? Part 1 of 3
From: "Paul Croft"

Hello all....

This is NOT your regular issue of Purehumour...this is instead YOUR voices on a sensitive issue.  My opinions are not expressed in the letters below....they were all sent to me in response to the comments that I made on Wednesday March 1, 2000 regarding the school shooting of a six-year old girl by a six-year old classmate.  I must have hit a nerve because so many of you took the time to write and voice your opinions!  The overwhelming consensus...in my opinion...is that the problem will NOT be solved by gun control...PARENTS need to take control again instead!  The full names have been removed from all the emails...but they are on file if anyone disputes any of the comments.  If your email was published here without your consent...I apologize to you in advance...but if we can save the life of just ONE child with these words...then we have all accomplished something.  Please feel free to forward this to whomever you feel would like to read it...send it to your congressman (woman)...send it to the President....or just send it to your address book.

Also before I am challenged on this issue...let me plainly state that I am a Canadian and therefore have only a passing interest in American politics...I have NO hidden agenda...my only concern, and the reason for publishing this special edition, is for OUR children.  Please do not take any of this as an endorsement of any political party and/or any political group in the US!

On another note...I never realized how big this project would become...you obviously have feelings that you want to get out to the world....to the people who have no opinion on this subject...and wish it would go away...please just delete these emails NOW...to the rest of you...please read and learn from what our fellow WORLD citizens are saying!       --Paul

I (Paul) said:

Some things in this world just don't make sense...when a six year old child has access to a gun...and then uses that gun to kill a classmate in school...there is something seriously wrong!  When we wake up and realize that we must do something to stop these kids from getting guns...when will they realize that there is a better way to deal with their problems....it was bad enough when these shootings occurred in high schools...but when it graduates into a kindergarten class....what is next?  Responses to the comments that I made on Wednesday March 1, 2000 regarding the school shooting of a six-year old girl by a six-year old classmate.

YOU (the readers) said:

 I am a citizen of the USA.  This country has a lot of problems and one of the consequences of our problems is all the violence in our schools.  What do I think causes this violence?

Taxes take such a large percentage of our income that most mothers have to work whether they want to or not.  Argue women's lib all you want - there's nothing as beneficial to a child as having his/her mother available after school to monitor his activities.  Make that a sober/drug-free mother in light of the recent news reports on the latest shooting.

TV violence that teaches children to punch, stab, shoot or blow-up anyone who gets in your way or pisses you off.  You say violence on TV or in the movies doesn't affect the children who watch 100's of hours of it every week?  Tell that to the advertisers who pay millions of dollars every year to get you to watch a few minutes of commercial touting their products.

Music videos and CD's that preach and glorify violence.  If our children spend thousand of hours with a CD booming hate and violence into their ears - can we expect them to be loving and peaceful?  If they listen to music that preaches the glory of killing cops and raping virgins - can we expect our children to respect authority and treat women gently.  Can we expect our daughters to become kind and nurturing if that is what they listen to during most of their waking hours?

Schools that have not only banned the 10 commandments and prayer - but are actually now teaching our children that there are no moral absolutes.

I have a small shop in a small town.  Do you want to know how much inventory is stolen every year?  I'm in my mid-forties.  When I was growing up it was still considered a crime to steal - and a shameful thing to be caught shoplifting.  Now we have schools teaching our kids that maybe it's not really wrong to steal if you really NEED something.  Excuse me.  There's not one item in my shop that ANYONE needs. Wants - yes.  Can't live without - not hardly.

When I was growing up we all knew that actions had consequences.  Pay attention in school, do your homework, study for the exam and you get good grades.  Goof off and you fail and get held back a grade.  Now everyone passes.  There can't be any grades and no one can be wrong because that is bad for self-esteem.  Our schools can't teach our children how to read, write, or do math - but boy do those kids have healthy self- esteem!!

I see the product of today's culture and school system walking past my shop all the time.  They look terrible, speak poor English, swear to make a sailor blush (and the girls are worse than the boys), have no respect for authority, and have poor self-control.  But, they do have marvelous self-esteem!!!  And, yes, I am aware that every "older generation" has looked down on every "younger generation" from the beginning of time.

Then there are other kids who are growing up with good morals, good work habits, respect for authority, they speak properly and are a joy to be around.  Some of them are being educated in public schools - but most of them are being home schooled.  They also have parents who are involved in their lives.  And they belong to a church (it doesn't matter which religion) and are getting a good moral grounding.  They work to earn the things they want.

Does this mean that every child who goes to public school, has only one parent or two working parents, doesn't attend church, is given too much money to spend without having to earn it, or has no money at all, and has very little supervision will turn out to be foul-mouthed, dishonest, criminal, lazy, and violent?

No, of course not.  Some of the best people have come from horrible conditions and have been able to rise above them.  But, they were a minority.

Does this mean that every child who comes from a two-parent home where the mother doesn't work, attends church every week, and has a perfect up-bringing will become a model citizen No, of course not.  Some of the worst people have come from the best conditions.

But, if we have 14-years -olds having babies.  If the government awards girls for getting pregnant without being married by paying them a monthly "allowance." If we have a government that taxes married couples higher than singles who live together.  If we have schools that teach our children that there are no moral absolutes.  If we have schools that are teaching our children that actions have no consequences.  If we have mis-leaders in the highest positions of authority who "get away with it." And if we have children who spend 100's of hours watching TV shows and music videos full of mindless violence.

Why are we surprised when one child brings a gun to school and kills another child?   -Jamie

Being 55

For Christmas this year I'm getting a colonoscopy - tomorrow - Thursday, December 22, 2011. Today is colon cleansing day. Wow, I had no idea. Even after hearing other people's stories - I still couldn't have imagined how it would be. One thing for sure - I should have one clean colon after today!

Coast Toasties - I survived My First Speech

I joined a Toastmasters group in February - actually the group is just forming and isn't a "real" Toastmasters group yet.  We need 20 members before we can become official.  The group meets once a week and the goal is to learn to be comfortable speaking in public.  

 

I am not at all comfortable speaking in public - and was so grateful that I didn't do something awful in front of the group - pass out, wet my pants, vomit - something that would have completely humiliated me. 

 

They could tell I was horribly nervous - but they still enjoyed the speech - or would have if I'd spoken slower so they could have understood it!!   I just wanted to get it over as soon as possible!

 

I think I could learn to enjoy public speaking - in about a million years - with lots of practice.  ; )

 

Here's what I said - it's about half of the story (which is posted here - sometime in the past).  This was from a letter I wrote to my sister after we made it home from the wedding.  Our speeches have to fit in 5 to 7 minutes - so I couldn't tell the entire story.

 

----------------------------------------

I'm the oldest of six kids.  Four boys and two girls.  In 1993 one of my brothers was married in Denver, Colorado.  I flew to Denver with my parents and two of my brothers, David and Greg, to be at Randall's wedding.  We enjoyed the wedding and then my brothers and I flew home – leaving our parents in Denver for a longer visit with other relatives.

 

We flew home by way of three planes:

      1) Denver to Salt Lake City with 1 hour 40 minutes layover at SLC

      2) Salt Lake City to Portland with 30 minutes layover at Portland

      3) Portland to Eugene

 

     The first flight went without a hitch      Then we boarded plane #2.  

 

And sat there and sat there and sat there.

 

Finally  people in coveralls went into the cockpit.  OK so you're sitting in a plane which doesn't take off – and people in coveralls go into the cockpit.  Would this make you feel secure about your flight?

 

Eventually the captain makes an announcement telling us that they had a faulty light which had to be checked. More time passes.

 

Again the captain makes an announcement – this time telling us that they had a short in a battery and had to power down the plane to change it. They did, then they had to reprogram the navigation. Forty minutes late, we took off.

 

Did you notice that we only had 30 minutes between planes 2 & 3?

 

Then the captain told us that he was going to fly as fast as he could to make up some of the lost time. And he did manage to make up about 15 minutes.

 

Because I tend to be a Nervous Nelly, I kept looking at my watch. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and signaled for a flight attendant - explaining to her about our connecting flight. She took our flight information and then walked down the aisle to find out if anyone else had a connecting flight to Eugene. About eight of us did. The rest of the passengers were destined for Portland.

 

I have very little experience traveling – and even less experience in plane travel.  But, we'd just taken three planes to Denver before the wedding.  And what I learned was that as soon as the plane lands and all the lights go off – everyone jumps up – jams the aisles – desperately grabbing their carryon luggage – and no one can move until the people up front of you get off the plane.

 

We landed at Portland and they asked everyone to please remain seated, so that they could get us off the plane and then they ran us across the airport (of course, our connecting flight was on the other side of the airport - did you think it would be next door?). We made the connecting flight – no problem. 

 

Then we sat there and sat there and sat there.   Not that this made me nervous or anything.

 

Later we figured out that the delay was so they could load our luggage.  Well, 3 of our 4 suitcases made it onto the plane.

 

My orange suitcase wasn't on the conveyor when we arrived at Eugene. So, I headed across the airport to make a lost luggage claim.

 

Then we loaded our Mom's car and headed home. On Beltline (the busiest road through Eugene) the car sputtered and died.  The gas gauge said we still had ¼ tank – but it was wrong. 

 

We got out of the car and the guys opened the hood.  Dave told Greg to try to start the car. Sputter, sputter, choke and die. So, we decided to lock up and walk for help. Doors slam, and lock, and I ask my brother to get my purse out of the trunk of the car – my money was in it and I figured we'd probably need some.

 

He patted his pockets, looked in the car, and guess what?! He locked the keys in the car! Can anything else possibly go wrong?

 

Dave decided to walk to a pay phone to call one of his wife's sons for help (they lived in Springfield).He couldn't remember their number, but would look it up at the phone booth. No phone book in the first booth he comes to – no book in the second booth – no book in the third booth.  He finally goes into a store and borrows a phonebook to look up the number.

 

He called and left a message with the son's girlfriend. The guys were out but she'd have them come help us when they got back. Dave walked back to where Greg and I were waiting with the car. (about 1 hour and 45 minutes have gone by). We stand around the car laughing and talking. Dave says that he thought about calling the police - they could open the doors for us with a slim jim and would give us a gallon of gas - but he couldn't find their number in the phone book. And he knew they wouldn't like it if he called 911 "could you bring us a slim jim and some gas."

 

So, we decided that I could always have a heart attack, then we could call 911 "my sister's having a heart attack. Could you please send an ambulance, a slim jim and some gas."

 

Did I mention that Greg didn't put on the parking brake and that the car was in neutral when it was locked up? It seemed that we were going to have a long wait so Greg and Dave jumped up on the hood of the car. I started to lean back on the hood and the car rolled down the street. Just what we need: "Oh, Mom, Jamie wrecked your car on Beltline. She pushed it into traffic when we ran out of gas."

 

Fortunately the road was straight and the car stayed on the shoulder until we could get it to stop. We decided it was another good excuse to call 911: "My brother was run over when he tried to stop the car. Please send an ambulance, a slim jim, and a can of gas."

 

All this silliness helped pass the time until the guys arrived with a coat hanger. It only took 23 minutes to get the door open, pour in the gas and start the car.  Over three hours after leaving the airport we were back on the road heading home.

 

That night a woman called from the airline and asked if I needed my suitcase right away. I told her "No." So she said that she'd have it sent out the next day. I figured UPS.

 

Early the next morning, the phone rang. It was a man calling from the airline wanting directions to our house. I said "you're going to have someone drive from Eugene to Reedsport?"

 

"Yes" So, I tried to give him directions but realized it was hopeless when he asked "Where's Reedsport?" I ended up having them send it UPS.

 

I figured they'd slap a label on my suitcase, and when our UPS guy came walking down the steps with my orange suitcase in his hand, I planned to say "Is this just a visit, or are you moving in?"     

 

Wouldn't you know, they put my suitcase in a box. Completely ruined my joke.

Life in the Slow Lane

It's been awhile since I last published anything here. Life has been just too fast and crazy for this now 50-year old gal. It doesn't seem possible that I could be half a century old - but I am.

GayLyn Bradley

Lighthouse Digest Magazine featured GayLyn Bradley as a "Beacon of Light" in their magazine in 2005. I was honored to be asked to write the article (below).

http://www.lighthousedepot.com/lite_digest.asp?action=get_article&sk=2383


GayLyn Bradley’s hands are blotched with white paint and she’s starting to droop a little with fatigue, but her indomitable spirit shines through as she speaks about her most recent project, restoring the windows in the Umpqua River Lighthouse to their original design.

This project, which GayLyn hopes to have completed by the end of the month, has taken almost two years and a lot of determination to accomplish. Disappointment after disappointment made it seem for awhile that the lighthouse window project would never be completed. Then a northwest company that manufacturers doors and windows, Jeld-Wen, offered to provide, free of charge, all the windows for the project if GayLyn would find the funding for installation.

Funding and windows in hand, all that now remains is to paint all ten windows white and call in the team from Constructor Services to install them. A dedication will be held in early May of 2006, during Preservation Month.

Window replacement is just one of the many tasks GayLyn has accomplished since she became the volunteer Lighthouse Keeper at Umpqua River three years ago. When she isn’t busy mowing the lawn or training new volunteers to staff the museum and guide tours of the lighthouse, she manages to keep busy with the day-to-day routine of maintaining the lighthouse, museum and grounds. One day she might be found on her knees scraping old paint from the floor of the upper levels of the museum building, another will find her sorting through old documents for new treasures to hang on the walls for visitors to enjoy.

GayLyn’s great love of the Umpqua River Lighthouse is apparent to anyone who listens to her speak of the old sentinel-of-the-sea or hears her future plans for renovation of the lighthouse and surrounding grounds. Her caring extends to all those who have served the Lighthouse, her young “coasties” of the present, retired Coast Guardsmen who talk to her about their memories of having spent time in service at station Umpqua River, and former keepers, their families and friends.

GayLyn’s next project is to redesign the museum building, dividing it into sections that showcase the history of the area and the Coast Guard. Planned for public viewing in the upper floor of the museum will be an historically accurate display showing the living quarters of the coastguard men who served here.

While the US Coast Guard owns the Lighthouse, Douglas County leases the sentinel and is searching for funding to complete this project in the next few years. Their lighthouse keeper has been attending meetings of service organizations around the area to show drawings that envision the finished project.

This past summer Douglas County added GayLyn to their paid staff, a move she strongly resisted. She’s more likely to spend money on the projects she loves, than to accept money for fulfilling what she sees as the promise of what the Lighthouse compound could become in the next few years.

Umpqua River Lighthouse has a first order Fresnel lens with 616 glass prisms and it’s beams of white, white, and red, shining out to sea for those who seek the entrance jetties leading to Salmon Harbor and Winchester Bay.

Thank you, GayLyn Bradley, for your care and keeping of our Lighthouse. Those of us who know of the countless hours you volunteer to keep the light burning appreciate and salute you.

More information about Umpqua River Lighthouse may be found at http://www.umpqualighthouse.org


Written by Jamie Swafford
November 2005

Elk and other critters

There's a tame elk in our pasture. He's been there for about 4 days now. We figure he must have wandered over here from the Elk Viewing area - because the elk that are native to our valley are definitely NOT tame. We chase them away when they show up around here - they know they are not welcome and run as soon as we slap our hands and walk toward them.

We are not overly fond of elk - don't hunt so they are of no value to us. They are a nuisance; break down our fences, destroy our trees and plants and generally make a mess in our yard. They also eat a tremendous amount of our pasture grass - which should be available to the animals that we want here. Instead it's necessary to buy hay to feed the domestic animals that inhabit our land because the elk leave so little forage for them in the winter.

This young bull just stands there making chewing noises and looking at us like he'd prefer to be a pet - got a carrot? Even trying to make him run away does not work.

Several years ago a neighbor remarked to us that he didn't feel that he could complain about the damage the elk do to his property because they were "here before us." I explained to him that it may very well be true that the elk were here before HIM but not before my husband or his family. That it is not natural for there to be so many in the area. Forever and ever it was a wondrous thing to see an elk in the valley because they were rare - and it was the fortunate hunter who bagged his animal in the fall. Then some elk group decided that we needed more of the great and beautiful creatures in our area and imported a bunch of them - I think this was in the 1950's.

Now they are a nuisance and cause problems for the people who live here - many of us prior to the importation of these animals. The tourists like to stop at the Elk Viewing area and admire them and take pictures. But, those of us who have to live with the creatures have a different view of them - not quite so idealistic. Mostly we feel that they would look really pretty wrapped in freezer paper in someone's cold storage unit.

This bull is in the velvet - he's just growing his "rack" of antlers. It looks like he'll be at least a 3-point. This means he will be a legal bull when hunting season starts this fall. And being so very tame - he will be easy prey to the first hunter on the scene.

There are two separate elk herds up Dean Creek Road. We call them the nursery herds. Each consists of a dozen or so cows with their calves. They will allow the young bulls to remain with the herd until they become spikes - they are "encouraged" to leave the herd at that time. And when an 800-pound cow encourages you to do ANYTHING, if you're smart, you do it. They probably won't allow this young bull to join the herd until just before the rut this fall. So, I guess he's lonely and decided to join our "herd."

Elk are supposed to be browsers - not grazers. They are supposed to be in the woods and hillsides eating brush. Not in our pastures eating grass. But, it's an easier life for them to graze with local cattle and horses - especially since some neighbors feed them hay in the winter. They have forgotten how to be wild elk. They also have diseases and parasites that they wouldn't have if they were living the way they are meant to live. Some years the elk die off. We've had to bury several that have died in our pasture in the last 3 decades. A few years ago about 10 died up Dean Creek Road and a bunch died at the Elk Viewing area. Local buzzards were very happy - but no one else was. One young, healthy looking calf died in our pasture and the Game Warden I spoke to about it said that from the description I gave him it sounded like the poor thing died of lung worm - something that was only too common that particular year.

Animals, like humans, do not do well when population numbers are too high. Disease and other problems occur that would not happen otherwise. Stocking the area with non-native elk seemed like a great idea in the 1950's, and it was not a bad idea. But, allowing the populations to grow so large is not wise.

Of course I had to take photos and go out and baby-talk him to see how close I could get - about 10 feet was his limit before he would walk away from me and stop and start chewing and waiting for me to come closer. I wonder if I can get close enough to pet him? Yeah - I'm just a softy too. And if someone shoots him this fall, I'll have to go in the house so no one will see me cry over him. Shameful though that is to admit. ; )

These photos were taken just as the sun was going down - so they are not as clear as they would be in bright daylight.

Mink

Last year a large, probably male, mink was hanging out in our little wood shed. We discovered this one day last summer because he was making a lot of noise chasing a rat through the wood piles. Actually, the rat was making the noise. The mink was pretty quiet. But we'd see him pop his head up between the stacks of wood and look around and then dive back down to chase the rat some more. Eventually, he caught up with the rat and carried it away into the redwood trees.

Mink are dedicated hunters and vicious killers. They kill for the thrill of it. One time a mink got into the chicken house through a small knot hole in a board. He killed all the hens - every one. Even though he couldn't possibly eat all of them - or even one of them - or carry any of them away through the knot hole. He did this for the shear joy of killing. We saved lids from canned goods and used them to cover every knot hole - 'course it was a little late for that batch of hens.

City people who have never lived where nature is real - have this ideal of animals only doing good - being pure and innocent - better than human beings. That is not true at all. There is almost nothing as cruel as nature in the raw.

A couple of days ago Don was hauling wood from the small wood shed to the wood box that we use everyday for our fires. And he came across a large nest full of some kind of young animals. The mom showed up as soon as the babies started fussing and he could almost see her - but not enough to tell for sure what she was - could have been a chipmunk - or a mink. We were hoping for a mink - we no longer have chickens and they at least kill rodents and are good to have around the place. Chipmunks are a nuisance.

Yesterday the question was answered because we were able to get a good look at the mom. It is a mink. We don't know how many young she has or how old they are - but hope she will continue to live in the wood shed. She's a lot smaller than the hunter of last summer - so he's probably the dad.

Girls May Want to Have Fun - But Life Interferes.

I may almost be 48-years old - but in my heart of hearts I'm still a girl. I suspect the same is true of many females other than myself.

We all want to have fun - unfortunately real life interferes. There's school, and college, and marriage, and (for the lucky ones) babies to raise, and work. Then there's always divorce, sickness and death to anticipate in our future or look back to in our past.

But, we do manage to sneak in some fun now and again too. I'd like to share some of those moments here with some of my friends.

She's my alter-ego! ; )


One of my girlfriends sent this oldie/goodie to me awhile ago.


Top 13 Things PMS Stands For:

13. Psychotic Mood Shift
12. Pack My Stuff
11. Permanent Menstrual Syndrome
10. Perpetual Munching Spree
9. Puffy Mid-Section
8. People Make Me Sick
7. Provide Me with Sweets
6. Pardon My Sobbing
5. Pimples May Surface
4. Pass My Sweatpants
3. Pissy Mood Syndrome
2. Plainly Men Suck

And The Number One Is:

1. Pass My Shotgun

Have you seen the movie "Chicago?" It's about a handful of women who are in jail for various murders. Some have been convicted, others are still on trial. In one scene the assorted prisoners explain why they are "wrongfully" behind bars. This line just slays me:

(he was pissing her off for some reason)
So, I took down the shotgun and fired a warning shot -

into his head.

I don't know why I like that so much. Male-bashing humor is not funny to me. White heterosexual males are an easy target for jokes in this period of time. They are about the only group you CAN tell put-down jokes about. I happen to like males. Which is good since they are half the population of this planet and most of my income depends on the good-will of men who employ me. I grew up with 3 brothers (and later another sister and brother - but they are 14/15 years younger than me) and numerous male cousins. My parents were scout masters - so I was also a boy scout (at a time before Woman's Lib - and females forcing their way into places where they weren't wanted or welcome). But, being the only girl in the family (if you didn't count Mom) - it was either participate in boy scout functions or stay home alone. The boys were more interesting. ; )

Girls and Cars Sometimes Don't Mix

Ever have one of those days when you really should have stayed in bed?

First the boring part - the starter in our car quit working a long time ago - relatively speaking - last spring or summer. Since they are expensive to replace, Don hot-wired the car - so-to-speak.

He installed a starter button like cars had in the 1920's. You turn the key half way so the electric stuff is on and then press the starter button.

There is also a wire that runs under the car from the starter back to the engine. This is the way the car was manufactured. Which is a really dumb place to put a wire. It's hooked together with an alligator clip and periodically gets grimed up with road gunk - always when I'm driving the car. When this happens the car won't start and someone usually has to drive me home and bring Don back to town so he can crawl under the car and clean off the wire and put it back together. Like, I said - a really dumb way to set up the starter wire on a car. VW made great autos - but something was wrong with the engineers that day. Or maybe they thought it would be really funny to make a car that would stop running every couple of years because this little wire was gunked up and no connection could be made between the starter and the engine.

Sooooooo - tonight after work I stopped at Safeway to get groceries, got back in the car and cranked on the starter button. It cranked and cranked and wouldn't start. Tried it a few more times - no joy.

Well, I thought, maybe I flooded the car (not likely - that's something I never do - having had the proper way to start a car drummed into me 27 years ago - but, you never know).

So, I figured I'd just sit there for 5 minutes or however long it takes a carburetor to dry out and then try again. It's a beautiful, warm night - so I was sitting with the window rolled down enjoying the stars.

While I was waiting a friend and her husband (Jeanne and Bob Taylor) drove in and Jeanne came over to ask me why I was just sitting there in the parking lot. And I explained the sad tale to her. She loaned me her cell phone and I called Don - who suggested that I have someone push me - if the car started then it was the starter. If it didn't then it was the wire. And he reminded me that I should have the car in 3rd gear and all the other things that I should do while being pushed.

So, I put the car in third gear, undid the parking brake, and turned the key in the ignition . . . . . . .

Yep - that's right - I had forgotten to turn on the key before pushing the starter button.

Do I feel stupid or what????

Hit the button and the car started right up.

Jeanne said - Oh, so it was flooded after all.


I did not disabuse her of this misconception - because what I had done was sooooooooooooo much stupider. And would have taken a lot of explaining - well, you just read it so you know how much it took.

There are days . . . . ; )

And then there are other days:

One day I was driving home with groceries in the car and had just reached the intersection at Highway 101 where I needed to turn right onto Highway 38 (this is in Reedsport). Just as I made the turn the car died - it was electrical - there was just no juice to the car.

Fortunately the road had enough of a slope that I was able to coast the rest of the way through the turn and down the road to where I could pull out of traffic (this was before they re-did the Highway and put in the triangle garden - the road was much different then).

The car immediately behind me pulled over and stopped also. In it were a man and his young son - he'd been aware that I was in trouble as soon as I was.

He tried to figure out why the Bug had died and couldn't, then ask me what he could do for me - he wasn't going to leave me on the side of the road. I told him that I lived out Dean Creek Road, that we only had one car, and that we had no phone (we didn't get a telephone until 1990). I also had frozen food in the car. So, he offered to drive me and the groceries home and bring Don back to town to deal with the car. And that's what he did.

Don finally figured out that there was a wire under the hood - right in front of the steering wheel - that was part of the electrical system to the starter or something important like that - it was supposed to be alligator clipped to another wire - but that was never done - the wires where just hanging and touching each other. You could see where the spark had been jumping between them for several years (since the car was new - 1973 and this was probably 1977). The wires finally moved far enough apart that the spark would no longer jump between them and the car died for lack of electricity to whatever it was they were powering.

They attached the two wires together and got the car running. The man wouldn't accept any money for his gas or anything. He wouldn't even say his name. Just told Don to "pass it on". Such a nice man. We saw him around town a few times after that and always said "Hi". Don called him my Good Samaritan. There are some really nice people in the world.

And if by some chance you happen to be reading this and remember rescuing a girl in an orange VW Bug in Reedsport, Oregon in the 1970's - Thanks! I've been grateful for what you did for me for over 25 years.



Is there some law somewhere in the universe that says that if a couple own a car - it will always and only quit working when the female half of the partnership is driving alone? Or is it just bad chemistry between girl and car?



One time when the wire under the car came lose (and it always happened enough years apart that the first few times I'd forget about the dumb wire and have no idea what was wrong with the car. Now I just assume it's the wire) I was at the Crafter's Mall in Winchester Bay and had just closed the store for the day. It was summer - 'cause it was still light when this was happening - and the weather was nice.

I figured the problem was something pretty serious because there was no response at all from the starter. The car was just dead - and not the battery 'cause there was juice in the front of the car - it just wasn't getting back to the engine.

I walked across the street to our friend, Willie's place to ask him to drive me home and bring Don back to deal with the car - but there were several other guys at his house, one was named John. They decided that they could get me started with no problem - just pull me down the road and it would start. RIGHT? Yeah. This was my first mistake - not trusting my own instincts.

They tied a rope between my car and John's pickup and pulled me down the road - car in third, let out the clutch - NOTHING. I think some of them had been drinking and they were having entirely too much fun.

John was in the pickup, a couple of the guys were in the bed of the pickup and a couple of other guys were running down the street along with us (we weren't moving very fast). I didn't know any of these guys and just wanted them to return me to the store. But they were determined to start my car.

They yelled at me to pump some gas to the car. Which I did (stupid - I know better than to do this - Don instructed me very carefully about the proper way to start a car - and this particular car does not need to have any gas pumped to her - ever).

And John pulled me again and I popped the clutch again - Nothing. This kept happening for awhile - they drove me down Broadway all the way to the WB Motel around to Beach Blvd and on out Coho Point - behind Pizza Rays. Then back out to Beach Blvd and on around to the Motel and back down Broadway to Willie's house. The guys who were running had waited for us to come back. They were still suggesting that I give "er some gas" (which I was ignoring by this time). I'd quit trying to start the car a long ways back, was trying to keep the car on the road and out of the bay, and to keep from rear-ending the truck that was towing me all over the village. I was just waiting for them to return me to a safer place.

They pulled the car into Willie's driveway and untied me. All of them muttering together that the problem with the car was that I'd flooded it. Of course it wouldn't start - dumb woman driver. By this time I was more upset from being towed all over town by this bunch than I was from the car not starting.

They all left for where ever they belonged which gave me a chance to finally speak to Willie. It turned out that these guys weren't there to visit him. They'd been having a party in the trailer next door. He knew one of them slightly and the rest not at all. Had I known that earlier, I'd certainly not have allowed them to drag me all over creation.

Willie drove me home and brought Don back to Winchester Bay. Don checked out the car - remembered the wire - crawled underneath and took it apart, cleaned it and put it back together. Car worked fine.

I needed therapy - but the car was OK.


The car doesn't always break down when I'm away from home. Sometimes it decides to quit working at home - when I need to be someplace - like work. I tried to start the car one morning and the battery was dead. It was a holiday (Labor Day or Memorial Day - one of those) - so naturally Stampers Tire (and battery) Center was closed - I guess people don't buy tires or batteries on holidays?

I HAD to go to work - and had to figure out a way to do that. We have a battery charger and it has a quick charge function that will start the car. So, Don removed the back seat from the car (the battery in a VW Bug is located under the back seat - such a handy place) and attached the charger to the battery.

I started the car and drove to work. At the end of the day I ran an extension cord from the car into the store to power up the charger. A few people walked by as I was doing this and we exchanged comments about my "Electric Car."

It runs real well until it hits the end of the extension cord - then - bam - nothing.

You must have a very LONG extension cord for that car?

It looked pretty strange - but it worked. I started the car, unplugged the charger and returned the extension cord to the car, and drove to my friend, Joanne's house for a visit. At the end of the visit I asked her husband if I could "borrow" a cup of electricity to start my car. We've been friends for a LOOOOOONG time, so I think they're used to me by now.

Stampers was opened the next day I was scheduled to work and I bought a new battery for the car on the way to the store. The extension cord was cute - but it limited my stops to only those places where I knew they would allow me to "borrow" some electricity to start the engine.

Sometimes Dog is NOT Girl's Best Friend

You can’t believe what my rotten dog did to me Sunday.

It was pouring rain and we were walking. We got to Bill & Betty’s driveway and their garage door was opening. B & B have a miniature schnauzer named Bear – he’s about 5 or 6 pounds and thinks he’s just as big a boy as my 100+ pound Max – and he loves us (Max and me). He minds really well (yeah, right) – until we walk by – then he heads for us at top speed and nothing can stop him.

The problem is that we are all concerned about the difference in size – the dogs get along fine – but Max could hurt Bear without trying. So, I usually pick him up as soon as he gets to me and release Max’s leash so he’ll run to B & B.

Sunday I was juggling Max's leash and an umbrella so I just knelt on the ground and Bear huddled under my rain cape while I petted him. Max was wandering around and he walked up to me, hiked his leg – and PEED all over the front of me!!! I couldn’t believe he was doing that for a few seconds – so he had a chance to really wet me down before I told him to GO AWAY.

B & B were getting ready to go to town so they got in the car and drove down to where I was waiting for them - their driveway is about 2 city blocks long.

I shook the yellow waterfall from my cape and handed Bear to Betty - then told them what my rotten dog had just done. Of course, they thought this was just too funny. (it is)

They decided that he was:

Trying to mark me as his territory so Bear wouldn’t feel free to hide under my rain cape.

Mad cause I was petting another dog and was saying "Well, piss on you."

I said that I probably didn’t want to know what he was thinking - whatever it was had to be something it was better for me not to know.

I can’t believe my dog peed all over me.

Maybe he’s still upset about the porcupine quills?

Girls Sometimes Get Bloody - Max and the Porcupine

Last night at about 11 pm, Max, our 100-pound Mastiff/Boxer mix, tried to bite a porcupine. This is a very bad thing to do. But poor Max has never been around one before. He had quills in his mouth and gums and tongue. All around his muzzle. He was a hurting mess. We brought him in the house and made him lay on his side. Don lay on top of him to hold him down while I pulled out the quills using a pair of pliers. Max had no way of knowing that I was trying to help him - not hurt him.

I've had a quill in my leg one time - and they are very painful. And they really hurt when you pull them out.

He kept fighting us - and periodically I'd have to stop working on him and pull him onto my lap and calm him down so we could go back to work. He was panting from heat and pain and fear and eventually just collapsed from exhaustion at the end. Which made it easier for me to pull the hardest quills out of his mouth. He had no fight left in him.

I took him down to the creek and let him crawl in and cool off - then fed him some soft dog food. The livingroom floor was covered with blood and dog drool and so was I (since I'd been laying on the floor while working on him). We cleaned it up and then took showers. We were both covered in sweat and my clothes looked like I'd spent the day in a slaughter house.

We checked on him several times before finally going to bed at about 1 am – and he kept rubbing against both of us to let us know that there were no hard feelings.

Max is a rescue dog. He was badly abused and neglected and we rescued him from the dog pound. We’ve spent the last two years treating him gently and getting him to trust us. I really hated to have to hurt him last night. But, I hope he realizes that we were trying to help him.

Max is fine this morning. We expected him to be sore or nervous. But, he's his normal joyful self.


Note: Animal-rights wackos need not bother to write. I can't afford medical care for myself so a huge vet bill was not even an option. The only alternative to pulling the quills ourselves was a bullet to put him out of his misery. If asked, I'm quite sure Max would say that was not his preferred alternative.

Maxie's Summer Vacation

 Max is a rescue dog.  A friend and neighbor saw him at the Reedsport dog pound and decided we needed a dog.  We don't know anything about him except he was about 2 years old when we got him - and he's probably mastiff and boxer.  He's also HUGE and difficult to handle when walking down the road with him on a leash.  We've been walking Max around the pasture instead of the road (we walk about 2 miles every evening). When we walk along the road we put Max in a harness that makes it easier to control him - he's strong as a horse.

When we walk around the pasture he gets to run free and really gets a good work-out.   The grass in the lower part of the pasture is over my head - there are several paths that our renters have beaten through the grass by driving their ATV around the pasture (they did this so the horse would use all of the pasture - the tall grass intimidated her - she's from Eastern Oregon where the grass doesn't get that tall).

Max and Lucy sharing a snack of apples.

We walk down to the bottom of the pasture and through the trees over to the creek where there is a beaver slide down to the water.   Max likes to run down the slide and get a drink of water - he needs it by this time since he's RUN about 10 miles.   He runs at top speed - and has to leap in the air periodically to see over the grass to where we are.   When we change directions or take a different path, I blow my whistle to let him know which way we are going. He covers at least 5 miles for every mile we walk!

The path is narrow - we walk single-file.   Max feels the need to be the lead dog. So, when we change direction he has to run to catch up. And this puts him in line behind me. He will walk on my feet until I move aside to let him get by.   Then He'll follow Don until we get to a wide spot and he can rush back out to the lead position.   I don't know why he doesn't just leap over the grass at the side of the path and go around us - he does that when he wants to cut across the pasture.

Max found a gopher the other night. It was in the path for some unknown reason. Don almost stepped on it and stopped to see what it was.   Then he called Max over and let him kill it. We REALLY don't like gophers.   Max really does like them.   They are fun toys.   He carried it around with him the rest of our walk - except for the times he dropped it and tried to get it to run. Dead gophers don't run - did you know that?   Max didn't either - he kept hoping.

Gophers aren't as fun as moles - moles have nice soft fur and are just the right size for a dog to carry around and play with. Don has several mole traps set around the yard and Max always has to help him when a mole is caught - running around with the dead mole in his mouth is his job. We have to wait until Max is involved with something else before getting rid of the mole - he has a habit of tracking them down when Don throws them away and bringing them back home.   I guess he thinks he's part bloodhound.

Max discovered moles for the first time last year. He happened to be with Don when he checked the mole traps in our paths. When Don set the dead mole on the ground so he could re-set the trap, Max picked it up and carried it around for hours. We finally decided that it was time to get rid of the corpse. I distracted Max with "treats" at the front door while Don took the body down the path to the pasture, out the gate and along the creek down toward the swamp. When he figured he was far enough from the house (and Max) he threw it out into the pasture grass - not just a short toss, mind you.   He really heaved the critter as far as he could throw it.

Then he returned to the house. As soon as Max realized that there were no more goodies to eat, he looked around for his new toy. Not finding it on the front step, he back-tracked Don until he arrived at the place where Don had stopped to toss the mole away. We watched him do this and one of us remarked that it would be funny if he found it.  

He did.  

He stood at the end of Don's trail for awhile, with nose in the air, sniffing.   Then he headed into the tall grass and zig-zagged until he found the poor, wet corpse.

We decided he'd earned the right to carry the darn thing around for the rest of the day. When it was dinner time for Max we removed the mole from his dog house and took it down to the "dump" and gave it a decent burial.

Max and his mole, enjoying a nap after wearing himself out fetching a ball, and checking the air for interesting smells in the pasture.
 

The Trip Home From Hell

The Trip Home From Hell

David, Greg & I flew back home together from Randall and Laura Lee's wedding (Oct. 3, 1993)


Murphey never sleeps! Our itenery was:
1) Denver to Salt Lake City with 1 hour 40 minutes layover at SLC
2) Salt Lake City to Portland with 30 minutes layover at Portland
3) Portland to Eugene

The first flight went without a hitch - in fact we were early. so, we got to sit around and watch planes take off.

Then we boarded plane #2. Time to take off - nothing happened. Then people in coveralls went into the cockpit. Then the captain told us that they had a faulty light which had to be checked. Time passed. Then the captain told us that they had a short in a battery and had to power down the plane and change it. They did, then they had to reprogram the navigation. Forty minutes late, we took off.

Did you notice that we only had 30 minutes between planes 2 & 3 - so did we!!! Then the captain told us that he was going to fly as fast as he could to make up some of the lost time. He made up about 15 minutes. Because I tend to be a Nervous Nelly, I kept looking at my watch. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and signaled for a flight attendant. She asked me what she could do for me and I explained to her about our connecting flight. She took our flight information and then walked the down aisle to find out if anyone else had a connecting flight to Eugene. About eight of us did. The rest of the passengers were destined for Portland.

We landed at Portland and they asked everyone to please remain seated, so that they could get us off the plane (as soon as a plane lands, everyone jams the aisles looking for all their carry-ons in the overhead. So, no one can get off until everyone in front does). They got about 8 people off the plane and ran us across the airport (of course, our plane was on the other side of the airport - did you think it would be nearby!!!). No problem, in fact the plane remained there a few minutes after we boarded before taking off. Later we figured out that this was so they could load our luggage.

Well, 3 of our 4 suitcases made it. My orange suitcase wasn't on the conveyor. So, I headed across the airport to make a lost luggage claim along with another woman who was on our flight. Naturally, I forgot to remove the claim tickets from the three bags we did get - so that I would know which ticket belonged to the orange suitcase.

This was around 10:30 am and they told us that the next flight was at 8:40 PM. I told them "No way am I staying in Eugene until then."

The man at the desk made out a claim form and told me that "If it's determined that it was our (the airline's) fault, we'll get the suitcase to you - no charge."

(Like it was my fault they had to change a battery!!!)

So, I walked back to where Dave and Greg were waiting with the three suitcases - checked the tags to find out which one belonged to my suitcase (the one good thing - it was my ORANGE suitcase. That was all I had to write for identification on the claim form. How many orange suitcases are out there?) and walked back to the lost luggage desk to give the claim # to the man.

We loaded the car and headed home. On Beltline (the busiest road through Eugene) the car sputtered and died. "Something must be wrong with the car 'cause we still have 1/4 tank of gas." Great - so now we'll have to be towed to a garage?"

We got out of the car and the guys opened the hood - it's fuel injected so they couldn't even check to see if it was out of gas. Dave told Greg to try to start the car. He did. Sputter, sputter, choke and die. So, we decided to lock up and walk for help. Doors slam, and lock, and I said to Greg "Would you get my purse out of the trunk. My money is in it and we'll probably need some." He patted his pockets, looked in the car, and guess what?! He locked the keys in the car! Can anything else go wrong? We're on the busiest street in Eugene, a cop has to come by any minute, right? Ha! Ha! (Do I sound bitter?)

Dave decided to walk to a pay phone to call one of Kathy's sons for help (he lives in Springfield). He couldn't remember their number, but would look it up at the phone. No phone book. So, he walked to the next phone. Called and left a message. The guys were out but she'd have them come help us when they got back. Dave walked back to us (about 1 hour and 45 minutes have gone by). We stand around the car laughing and talking. Dave says that he thought about calling the police - they could open the doors for us and would give us a gallon of gas - but he couldn't find their number in the phone book. And he knew they wouldn't like it if he called 911 "could you bring us a slim jim and some gas." Sure buddy. So, we decided that I could always have a heart attack, then we could call 911 "my sister's having a heart attack. Could you please send an ambulance, a slim jim and some gas."

Did I mention that Greg didn't put on the parking brake and that the car was in neutral when it was locked up? Greg and Dave sat on the hood of the car. I started to lean back on the hood and the car rolled down the street. Greg jumped off and ran to the rear to stop it. Just what we need: "Oh, Mom, Jamie wrecked your car on Beltline. She pushed it into traffic when we ran out of gas."

Fortunately the road was straight and it stayed on the shoulder. We decided it was a good excuse to call 911: "My brother was run over when he tried to stop the car. Please send an ambulance, a slim jim, and a can of gas."

All this silliness helped pass the time until the guys arrived with a coat hanger. It only took 23 minutes to get the door open. But, they couldn't bring us any gas 'cause they didn't have a gas can (in Oregon you can only get gas if you have an official gas can - you can't use a Clorox bottle or something handy). So, Dave gave them some money and they went to find a store that sold gas cans. Some time later they came back, poured the gas into the car and it started right up. So, we really were out of gas - at least we wouldn't have to get the car fixed at a garage. Mom's gas gauge didn't work right - or had quit working.

All of this took about 3 hours and we saw not one cop the entire time. Until we got in the car and started home. Then we saw one.

Only two people stopped to ask if we needed help (of course, our hood wasn't up since you have to unlatch it from the inside, and we couldn't get inside since the doors were locked).

A girl (19 - 20 years old) driving a red car, stopped to ask if we needed help. She had driven past us, then saw Dave walking, felt guilty, so she got off Beltline, turned around, drove past us on the other side of the divider, found a place to get off and turn abound again so that she would be on our side of the road (it's a divided highway with on-ramps and off-ramps). Bless her heart. I told her the problem and she offered to try to catch Dave and drive him wherever he needed to go for help.

She caught up to him at the first pay phone, and he thanked her for her trouble and sent her on her way, since he'd just arrived at a pay phone. 'Course after she left he discovered that it didn't have a phonebook!!!

Then a guy in a red Broncho-type rig stopped and said that he had some gas. I told him that it wouldn't do us any good unless he could pick our lock. He had a slim jim at home, which didn't help us!! So, we thanked him and sent him on his way (if we'd had any brains we'd have accepted the gas!!!)

Then Dave's boys showed up in a red car. Must be a good color. Or good people drive red cars, or something. No one else stopped - and no cops!!!!
The rest of the trip home was boring and uneventful.

That night a woman called from the airline and asked if I needed my bag right away. I told her "No." So she said that she'd have it sent out the next day (Monday). I figured UPS.

Early Monday morning at some horrible hour of the day, the phone rang. It was a man calling from the airline and wanting directions to our house. I said "you're going to have someone drive from Eugene to Reedsport?"

"Yes" So, I tried to give him directions. I realized that it was hopeless when he asked "Where is Reedsport?" I ended up having them UPS it.

I figured they'd slap a label on my suitcase, and when our UPS guy came walking down the steps with a suitcase in his hand, I planned to say "Is this just a visit, or are you moving it?"

Wouldn't you know, they put it in a box. Spoiled my joke!!!

Fire Story

Jamie's Fire Story - January 9, 1991

This is a copy of a letter I wrote to Elaine just after the fire:

Dear Elaine,

How are you? We're both fine - I suppose Mom has told you about our excitement - when the house almost burned!!! It was touch and go for awhile.

Wednesday morning (January 9, 1991) at 8 am, Don got up, lit the fire in the living-room stove, turned on KXL (all news radio), and came back to bed to wait for the house to warm up a little. (Later) the announcer said that it was 8:34 and I turned to Don and said that something smelled BAD.

So, he went out to check the stove, and the next thing I knew he was tearing the metal plates off the wall behind the stove and throwing things around. He ran into the kitchen and filled a pot with water and told me to fill pans, which I did. He poured the water into the wall behind the wood-stove, extinguishing the fire.

He ran into the bedroom and put on his clothes and shoes. I was still in the living room and looked up through the skylight and the entire roof (in that area) was on fire and the skylight was burning. So, I started screaming, "The skylight's on fire get the hose!"

Don ran outside, got the hose, and turned it on, got the ladder and climbed onto the roof, and sprayed water all over the place. He was a hero. He burned and cut his hand tearing up hot metal either on the roof or earlier in the living room, or both. He was blistered later. He was up on the roof in all that poisonous smoke and heat not knowing if he'd be able to get off the roof if the fire wasn't put out.

Of course, I was doing important things too: Jumping up and down, wringing my hands, and yelling, "The skylight's on fire. The skylight's on fire!" (Just in case he hadn't noticed, ya know!) And other brilliant observations. I did un-kink the hose and move it for him when he told me to.

At some point I realized that I was running around on gravel in P.J.'s and bare-feet. So, I went into the house to get my boots and robe on. I also checked the attic to see if it was OK - lots of smoke - no obvious fire. The house was OK too - just smoke.

I went back outside. By this time the fire had spread to the shingles on the side of the house and under the gutter on the main house (our bedroom wall). Don couldn't see the fire from where he was on the living-room roof - so, I was telling him where to spray.

And at this point - for some reason - I decided to go back and check inside the house (we both feel that our guardian angel must have tapped me on the shoulder - 2 or 3 minutes later and it would have been out of control.

The fire had exploded through the living-room ceiling where it attaches to the main house (main burn). Don's tapestry from Japan had burned and fallen behind and over the couch. That was burning. Hot coals were all over the couch and rug. Another smaller fire had burned through the ceiling over the wood stove. The main burn was burning like a blow-torch. A picture on the wall by the kitchen door - 10' away from the fire - melted and buckled.

I ran into the kitchen and pulled the fire extinguisher off the wall (breaking the plastic strap holding it!), ran into the living room, read the directions, pulled the pin, and couldn't get it to work. Threw it down, ran outside, yelled that the living room was on fire, pulled the hose away from Don, ran back into the house. Sprayed water on the flames and coals at ground level, then climbed onto the back of the couch and started pouring water into the main burn. At this point I figured we were going to lose everything.

Don climbed down from the roof and ran in, saw me standing on the back of the couch spraying water into the inferno, and he also thought that everything was lost.

But, we got it put out. I'm still not sure how. Don climbed up into the attic - all smoke/little oxygen, and crawled to the far end (by the living-room) to make sure the fire hadn't burned through the wall. There wasn't any fire or hot spots on the wall. I was afraid he would pass out, but he made it back down -lots of coughing and choking.

It was 9:45 am. Probably the shortest hour of my life!!!!

We'll have to replace the roof and ceiling and the wall behind the wood-stove. Maybe some rafters. But, other that, damage was minimal.

The carpet is ruined, but I was planning on getting rid of it and the one in our bedroom this summer (bare floors are easier on allergies). So, that's no loss. The afghans and cover on the couch were scorched and wet, but the couch is OK - 2 small damp spots and one small scorched spot.

The VCR, TV and stereo speakers were right under and to both sides of the main burn, and are unharmed!!! The speaker wires were burned through and will have to be replaced. The cover I made for the VCR is burned and was wet, but no water in the VCR or TV. The speakers were damp but they dried out.

Because the roof burned first, (the aluminum roofing melted!!) the smoke and steam from all the water must have all gone outside. We expected way more smoke and water damage. The skylight is ruined. Don put a couple of lines up in the kitchen so I can dry wet books and magazines.

We were really lucky. Murphy was hog-tied that day!!! Or busy giving someone else the shaft. Everything went right. Even the fire extinguisher not working was right. Don pulled the trigger later to find out what was wrong with it - and it worked for him - but I couldn't breathe - I had to run outside and cough and choke for awhile. If it had choked me earlier, I couldn't have wet things down so fast!!! And the fire probably would have been out of control before Don managed to get down from the roof.

We spent the rest of the day going around feeling the walls to make sure there was no fire lurking in any of them. We just couldn't believe that it was over and the house wasn't a smoking pile of rubble!!!

We've closed off the living-room and are living in the main house until we can fix things this spring. Don put a tarp over the roof to keep the rain out.

That's all the news from here. What's going on at your place??

Love, Jamie

Note: That was the Siberian Express winter. Our water was frozen for most of two weeks. We had to haul water in buckets from our spring. But, right in the middle of this cold time was a couple days of thaw and we had water - that's when the fire happened. Two days either way, and we would have had no water to put it out.