MY OLD STRIPED ROBE

SHE WENT DOWN TO THAT MEN'S STORE!
*******************************************************

My old gray robe with the black stripes
   came along to me
Like a good friend, when I needed it
    most.
Not much to look at, but it is a splendid,
    splendid robe!

Made of soft thick velour, with stripes
    running through it, in all directions...
Like ridges to give it strength.
    Stripes look like chevrons
My wife says...

    It brings comfort with it,
Whenever you put it on...
    and it seems to hug your neck!    

Ere long, after donning it, you're warm
    as toast!
You never want to take it off.

Back in early 2012, weather got
    below zero...
So bad, gas got short and some
    people lost theirs.
Mil caught a terrible cold.
    Wouldn't go to bed---sat
In his writing chair, in an old coat
    with a little blanket
Over his head,
   writing and dozing--
Mostly dozing...and aching...

Everything...and everywhere was COLD
    that February.

Mil sat, as if in a little tent, with
   that blanket over his head...
There at his writing place,
    cold and miserable.

The Beloved Editor, one day, headed
    out the door with her purse...
As wives do.
   "Where ya' going?" choked Mil.
"I'll be back," she said.

Out of her heart of love, she just went
    down to the tall men's store---
Walked in, and said: "I want the softest,
    warmest, handsomest robe you got!"

"This is the ONLY one we've got in
     the right size," he said.
"I'll take it," she said.

It got me through that bad, cold time.
    I wear it every morning, 'cept
In the summer. It is special to me...
    like a kid and his blanket
Or teddy bear.

I wear it---"for better or worse,
    in sickness and in health."

I won't need a fancy robe in heaven.
    This one is fine!
(Maybe a pair of levis for the bottoms.)

Ah, wives and robes...both,  MIRACLES!

********30*******
BY MIL
12/08/13

SNOW ON THE FRIO DRAW AND OTHER MEMORIES

by Wylie Dougherty
guest writer

Mil asked me to write something about snow on the Frio, 20 miles north of Clovis, where we ranched and farmed in a place called the KD Ranch.  Many times during the late 40s, following WW II, we had to hitch a team of horses to a bundle wagon, an under-slung affair with four steel wheels, loaded with several tons of bundles of feed, then out in the North pasture. We didn’t have a truck that could negotiate the snow, pre-4 wheel drive, the cold was amazingly penetrating.  We would dress in all of our clothes, with mackinaw coats and rubber over-boots, to try and keep the cold out—but it didn’t work.  We didn’t have caps with ear flaps, so we wore our hats with a scarf tied over our head and ears.  One Christmas we had to go out and feed the cattle, after a great big Christmas breakfast; after freezing our fingers and other extremities, we came back in to mugs of hot chocolate and popcorn, which made the feeding worthwhile.  

During the snow storms one of the dangers was coyotes who were hungry.  The rabbits could run on top of the snow, but the coyotes couldn’t.  So –the coyotes would chase the young calves, which also sunk into the snow. Once in a while the coyotes would nip off a calf’s tail, but the mama cows would generally save the babies, another example of the survival of the fittest.

There was always the danger of snow-blindness because of the reflected sunlight off the snow, so Daddy would cut goggles with slits out of cereal boxes, tied on with cake-sack strings, not very pretty, but quite practical.  Even though we wore sheepskin mittens with gloves inside, our hands would require some thawing after a day of feeding.  Those were days that I treasure, since I lived through them with minimal scarring and pain.  I still marvel at all the things our Daddy knew and could do on the ranch; he was truly a jack-of-all-trades.

ALBUQUERQUE

Richard wrote about a snow fall in December of '56.  I was working for the Air National Guard on the west end of Kirtland AFB, where the old Terminal is located.  My route to work was up Yale to the airport. Being a farm boy, I did have chains, which I put on the Ford Convertible and started up the hill on Yale.  The farther I went, the more cars were spun out, finally blocking the road at the railroad tracks, so I was forced to walk the last mile or so in the foot deep snow.  So much for being prepared.

MADISON, WISCONSIN

In December of 1970 we moved from ABQ to Madison, WI in search of fortune and fame.  We had been to Madison in November to be hired by the Board of Directors who then had us escorted around to find housing.  It was perfect Indian Summer with the flowers blooming all around the Capitol building, near our hotel.  Needless to say, we didn’t see the lawns at our new house till the following April, when the snow finally cleared.  On December 29^th we were to meet the moving van and unload our belongings into our new abode, but there was a foot of new snow in the driveway.  Our first two purchases in Madison were two snow shovels at Treasure Island, a JC Penney subsidiary store.  Since the 29^th was a Sunday, our van driver told me he had no swamper to help unload, and asked if I would hire on as his helper. Imagine here I am a budding executive doing the hardest work since leaving the ranch.  Before Sunday was over we had another foot of snow, which caused me to have a very sore back on my first day on the new job. 

In this Arbor Hills neighborhood there were some great sled hills, so we bought a sled and a friend loaned us a toboggan.  The first time to the top, my oldest son stood there with the new sled and asked “what do I do?”  I said to watch the other kids, and then he went belly-down and zipped down the hill.  The first winter was not bad, only 75 inches of snow.  As I was driving past the sled hill one day, I saw our #2 son, Bret, surfing down on the toboggan.  Later I asked him how the sledding went, he complained that he was bruised and beaten by sledding.  When I told him I had seen him surfing down the hill, we all had a good laugh.

BOY SCOUTS AT UPHAM WOODS

I was asked to help with a Boy Scout trip to Upham Woods, near Blackhawk Island on the Wisconsin River in February of 1971.  Our sons, who were Scouts, had just got their ice skates, but were not proficient on these hockey skates.  The Scouts had flooded the volleyball court and it made a great hockey rink.  Our two sons, being the worst skaters, were elected to be goalies, and spent a lot of time on their bellies blocking shots.  There was a great toboggan run which kept our scouts very busy climbing up then rocketing down the icy sled-run. 

One day one of the scouts came up to me and said “Mr. Dougherty, we found some skis in the barn, would you take us skiing?” This to a desert rat who had never worn a pair of skis.  The skis happened to be WW II surplus, with leather bindings—no quick release here.  Five boys and a reluctant adult took off, stopping every few feet to fasten someone’s straps.  We skied across the frozen Wisconsin River to Blackhawk Island, which was pretty hilly.  We came up on a hill and one of the Scouts asked “Mr. Dougherty, what do we do now?”  As I was the only adult there I said “I would suggest you sit down on the skis and go down the hill”.  Amazingly it worked and we traversed the hills, skied back across the River for Supper.  The boys talked about the skiing part of the Scout camp for years.  Another case of ignorance working out okay.  

One of the benefits of living in Madison was the variety of winter activities. In order to avoid cabin fever you learned things to do outside…. never went ice fishing though.  Since each of the kids and I had ice skates, we would go out on one of the lakes….there were four lakes in a chain through Madison.  The greatest concern was crevasses that appeared in the surface of the ice, which could break a leg or a blade of your skate, if you weren’t alert. 

 One February we had a warming spell causing a nice rain, instead of the usual snow, which melted the snow on the lake and put a glassy finish on the ice.  That day was the best skating any of us had ever seen, no cracks or holes to worry about.  Our boys would open up their coats to catch the wind and just fly across the lake.  You could go a mile on the best ice not made by a Zamboni.  We watched some skaters take cardboard sails and just fly across the lake with the wind behind.  Coming back after one of these runs took some effort as you had to go into the wind.  A rare and wonderful day of skating.

Wylie at Mil's

----30----

for Mil's Place

Wylie Dougherty

CHS '53

12/9/13

"ME AND TEDDY WENT DEER-HUNTING!"

RESPONSE TO GENE'S POST
******************************
by Bobby Snipes, guest writer

 Gene's younger brother Lyle and I were football team mates in the class of 53.   Gene was a good football player; tell him I enjoyed his stories.  Talking about Teddy Blair….. Teddy was a cousin to Jack and Jean Williams, whose parents lived west of Ranchvale.  Teddy lived just west of you and me on Davis, I think.  Dad roped calves with James Williams almost every Sunday afternoon and Teddy and his sister, Betty, were out there quite often.  We rode calves, milked cows and played on the hay stack---we were always around Teddy----I went deer hunting with Teddy one weekend to Mosquero.   

We were hunting next to a game reserve and Teddy shot this deer but did not kill the deer instantly, and the deer jumped the fence and died inside the game reserve.  Well, we were scared to death.   We ran and lifted that deer on our shoulders and threw him over the fence.  We were panting and sweating and looking feverishly to see if anyone saw us.  We got that deer loaded and headed for Clovis.  What a hunt!   

Teddy was an outspoken witness for Jesus.  One time Teddy was telling me about his transporting prisoners.   He said that he would tell them about God and God's love.   He said that they had to listen-----they couldn't go anywhere. Teddy was a great friend.   Tell Gene thanks for bringing back some great memories  about Teddy Blair.     

"Country Boy Bob"

----30----
FOR MIL'S PLACE
by Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53
12/7/13

THE FOOTPRINTS ARE US

Photo by Mil, 1970

Days, week, months…...
I sat at my place...where I write...
with the FOOTPRINTS photo---
(taken with my trusty Rollei many
years ago)
leaning on a chair, right by me.

Studying that photo,
I was stumped.

To me, a poet
(in my own right?)
----at least at heart,
There were metaphors
and meanings galore
hidden in that photo!

Not to even speak of
the artistic skill
of The Creator---His
unbelievable, unpredictable
lines and imagination....

( How would you or I
design the bottom of
an old dry lake bed?)

Countless pieces of writing
tablet paper
have been used and discarded
by me, writing about
these footprints....

Countless others languish...
resting and aging
in the ripening box...
It is true.

But not to worry---
I got it today...while reading
Mary's poetry:
"Later I was the footsteps
that follow the sea..."

Then it came to me:
The old lakebed is LIFE...
and the FOOTPRINTS
are US.

******30******
BY MIL
11/24/13





Sent from my iPad

JOURNEY OF THE TRIFFYDS

Photo by Mil, 1970

************************************
ARE THESE TRACKS…..OR?
************************************

Someone(s)...
on the journey of life...
passed this way.

Were they humans?
Were they lost?
Were they thirsty?

Oh, oh---Wylie, was here---
A farm boy...a friend,
Used to tracks of all kinds...
Saw my photo...

Said, "There's a little guy
over there in the lower right,
tagging along, trying to follow!"
(Thanks, Wylie!)

This photo...is so loaded
with metaphors, that
my metaphor meter tilted.

But since I took the picture,
Myself---with my trusty Rollei,
It can be anything
I want it to be...

It is actually a colony of
migrating Triffyds---
Lovable, cuddly, cute little furry
beings---Thirsty ones---searching
for water, and a better life.

The baby Triffyds, following
them, there to the right,
don't survive.

They seem to fall into
the cracks...

And are gone.

********30*******
BY MIL
11/22/13

MEMORIES OF WINTER AND SNOW

by Richard Drake,

Guest writer

THE BIRTH OF SNOW-TUBING?
*******************************

CLOVIS AND ALBUQUERQUE

Bob Snipes sent me pictures of the recent snow in New Mexico and they started the neurons charging around in my brain bringing back memories of snow from the past. Back when we lived in Clovis we did not get many big snows except for one just before our annual game against Portales at Thanksgiving time our senior year. The field had to be cleared with front end loaders and the field ended up being ice covered so the game became a different kind of fun.  Our hard cleats could not bite through the ice.  Everyone was slipping and sliding.  The team that could maintain their footing would win the game.  Most of our players were heavier than their counter parts so we had an advantage,  We won the game.

In the fall of 1956, Albuquerque received a couple of very big snow storms. One started  in early afternoon, a Friday as I recall. A teammate and I had part-time jobs at Gart Brothers Sporting Goods Store in the downtown area unloading new shipments. In the early afternoon, from the dock area where we were working, we could see the big snowflakes coming down and collecting on the driveway. A delivery man came in and told us that the snow was really heavy up towards the University. We decided that we had better get moving if we wanted to get to our apartments. Our boss agreed, since he was also leaving; so off we went.

Traffic was very slow until we started uphill on Grand Avenue. Then it became almost impossible to move. My friend was driving and he did not have snow tires.  At that time,  there probably no more than a dozen sets of snow tires in all of Albuquerque and they were probably sitting in the owner's garage.  Going uphill, we kept spinning out and sliding into the curb.  To make progress, I got out and started pushing. I was able to push with the curb giving me something to push against.  We had just finished football season, so I was still in pretty good condition.  I would push and he would give the car a little gas.  Even the smallest amount would spin the wheels. Foot by foot by foot we slowly made progress up the hill. 

I was pushing as hard as I could when I saw the lower legs of a female standing on the curbside. She had beautiful legs.  I heard her ask  "Are you going my way"?  It was Marcia!  She had been unable to drive up the hill while coming from work and had stopped to ask to use the phone at one of the houses.  She had looked out the front window of the house and saw us in the street in our struggle.  She hopped in and we finally made it home.

SNOW TUBING

According to the news reports the snow fall was the largest for many years.  Being from Clovis, it was a winter wonderland.  Everyone at the Grand Avenue apartment complex wanted to play.  No one had sleds so we started looking for anything on which to slide down Grand Avenue. We tried garbage can lids and flat shovels.  Someone found an old inner tube and a quick walk to the nearby service station got it inflated. 

Everyone started taking turns.  The first runs were slow but quickly we had a very slick run and the speeds picked up.  The nice thing was that it was impossible for anyone to get hurt. It was so much fun it was suggested that we go to the Sandia Mountains the next day.  We scouted the neighborhood and found a local tire store with a bunch of old inner tubes that were no longer fit to be mounted on cars but were perfect for snow tubing.

Early the next day three of our neighboring couples joined Marcia and me for an excursion to the "snow" country.  They were Walter (another Clovis-ite) and Sally White, Cecelia and Jimmie Juarez, and Barbara and Joe Murphy. A fun bunch of people.

The snow was great and we quickly had a very long run prepared.  The fun began. Before long, we attracted a very large crowd of people from Albuquerque up for the day's fun. We let everyone take turns.  Our four inner tubes were kept busy and though only one started to lose its air, it was still useable.  

Upon returning to Albuquerque the people started to spread the word about this fun new sport.  The next weekend the Albuquerque Journal wrote a story with pictures of people having a great time sledding on inner tubes.  It became a favorite winter pastime. Thus, I can openly claim that our small group introduced inner tube sledding to New Mexico.

HEADED HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

For Christmas Marcia and I with her brother, Dick Howell started home for Christmas.  Shortly after leaving Albuquerque, the snow started.  We were concerned and stopped at Clines Corners to talk to incoming truckers.  They told us that they had run into the snow only a few miles ahead.  Since we were turning south at that point and heading to Vaughn, we thought we could get ahead of the storm.  We were making good time and the snow was not too deep; then a big problem was just in front of us.  We started down a long incline and could see a long line of cars trying to make it up the hill.  They were not having much luck.  Then all of a sudden we saw a truck stopped in our lane with its lights out.  We tried to stop but we kept sliding directly at the truck. As we got closer we could see a cab full of what appeared to be Indian people.  They were as scared as we were, judging by the wide open eyes.  Try hard as we could, we could not miss them completely and clipped our bumper on theirs.  Off we went into the ditch. 

People in the stranded cars came to help and with their assistance we got the car back on the road.  We had to borrow a crow bar to pry the fender away from the tire but other than that we were fine.  We turned and could see the pickup trying to go up the hill with a large group pushing a hard as they could.   The bed of the truck must have been full of people.  Shortly they were gone.

OUR HOME IN COLORADO

No story of mine about snow can be told without a few words about our home in Colorado.  Our house was located on Lookout Mountain due west of Denver and at 7,500 feet elevation according to the USGS contour maps.  We lived there during the period that climatologists were calling the coming "ice age".  We had snow , after snow, after snow.  We moved into our new home over the Labor Day weekend in 1961.  When we opened the drapes on Labor Day morning there were nine inches (by actual measurement} of snow sitting on the top railing of the balcony railing.  WELCOME TO LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN! From that time forward, after each snow fall, the amount was carefully measured and recorded on our calendars.  My memory says that over 100 inches in a winter was common but I haven't been able to locate the old documents to verify the data.

We were young and took advantage of the snow and our location.  We had a steep drive way that was perfect for the kids to have a place to sled and ski.  A long tube run was constructed down the mountain starting at our back patio.  It had many banked turns and was pretty fast.  Our home became a place to visit for all our friends from New Mexico and Denver. 

A neighbor bought a ski-mobile and Marcia fell in love with it.  She wanted us to buy one using the money we were saving for carpeting our living room.  We did have a good debate and I held out for the carpet.  I believe she stills hold a small grudge about it.

While we loved the sledding sport, commuting to work, getting the kids to school and shopping was another story.  Our community had only eleven families and had private roads so we had to plow them ourselves.  The neighbors joined together and bought an old road grader from the eastern Colorado town of Holyoake.  Of course, the grader was named "the Holyoake".  We took turns operating the grader.  It required two people, one to steer and one to control the height of the blade, since both were powered hydraulically and the system leaked. Constant maintenance was required. Always a community effort.  While everyone pitched in , the college professor, geologist, furniture store owner were not much help.  They did not know the difference between a crescent wrench and a crescent moon.

I have many tales about snow storms and their aftermath  but two jump to the top of my list.  One Friday evening I was attending a meeting of Little League Baseball managers in Golden when it started snowing heavily with big flakes.  By this time I was experienced so I headed home immediately.  By the time I reached Interstate 70 going up to Lookout there were already 6 - 7 inches of heavy wet snow on the surface.  I finally reached the off ramp but could only get close to the top before I could go no further.  I had to leave my car and start walking towards home about four miles away.  I had not worn my winter clothes so I found walking to be difficult and cold.  Fortunately for me, a four wheel jeep came along with several young men.  They had come to the mountain to drink beer at the local tavern but decided it would be more fun to pull people out of snow banks.  They gave me a ride to the entrance road to our neighborhood.  After a short argument they agreed to let me pay for their evening's gasoline usage.  It was worth far more than that to me.

A MOVE TO HOUSTON

Shortly after this, a move to Houston occurred.  It was undertaken with some apprehension because of all of the stories we had heard about the heat and humidity on the Gulf Coast.  However, it did not take long for us to realize that the weather was humid but driving in it was much easier driving in high humidity than in snow and ice.  The heat was not a problem.  People lived in air-conditioned homes, drove air-conditioned cars, shop in air-conditioned malls and went to air- conditioned churches. 

 The other story is about a business trip to Washington, D.C. On my way to turn in my rental car at National Airport, now Reagan International Airport, it began to snow very heavily.  If you know the D.C. area, drivers there were not prepared for snow on the roads. As I was getting ready to check in my rental, the shuttle driver came in and announced that the airport was closed and no flights were going out that night.  I asked if they could call Dulles International to see if they were still flying.  Yes, they were.  I left immediately hoping I could reach there before the snow shut down that airport.  Worse case I still had the rental vehicle and could find a motel for the evening. 

I wasn't on the freeway leading to Dulles very long when it became apparent that without snow tires, I would never make it.  I started looking for an exit with a  motel when three heavy duty snow plows came down an entry ramp.  They lined abreast the highway and started plowing.  I fell in behind them and stayed close until reaching my exit to the airport.  My good luck continued because my rental company was right at the bottom of the ramp. I ran in with just enough time to catch their shuttle. 

The inside of the terminal was a mad-house.  Looking at the overhead departure schedule displays I found that most of the outgoing flights had been canceled because the inbound flights were not able to land .  There was no way I could work my way to the counter through the long lines in time to change my reservation. I found a phone booth and called the company travel agent in Houston and we started to work. She would check a flight and I would look at the display.  All of my available flights were disappearing one by one.  I noticed that one plane to Houston was still posted.  The agent quickly booked it for me.  While trying to reach the attending flight agent, I heard an announcement that all holding a reservation should immediately go to the front of the line. I was the last person to get on the shuttle bus to the airplane on the tarmac.

While looking for my assigned seat I saw that all but two seats were occupied.  I sat in one and said a short silent prayer.  In just a few minutes Elizabeth Dole, The Secretary of Transportation, sat next to me. I concluded that I had gotten that last available seat because the Secretary always had a reservation and I would have been bumped if she needed a seat. On the flight, she was a very enjoyable seat mate.  She asked about my background and when she learned that I had been in the transit business and was consulting with the Washington Metropolitan Transportation Authority she started asking me my opinion on a number of issues.  She pulled several position papers prepared by her staff and asked me to comment on them.  It was obvious she wanted to hear all sides of issues. She was a very impressive person.  Little things set her apart.  As the airline staff started serving a meal, she took her bible from her brief case and read for a few minutes.  When the meal arrived she said a short silent prayer before eating.  In all of my travels this was the only time that I had witnessed this on an airline flight.

HEADED FOR BOSTON

An opportunity arose for a very good position in Boston on the Central Artery/Tunnel Project also known as "the Big Dig".  Our only concern was moving back into cold and snow.  For our first Thanksgiving we woke up to 24" of snow on the  streets.  It took all day and a sore back to shovel out the car.  The news paper said it was the second largest snow fall in history.  History goes way back in the Boston area.  Shortly thereafter, the largest snow fall in history dropped the first one into third place in the history books.  It was followed by two more so our first snow fall in Massachusetts fell to fifth place. 

We had bought a condo in Franklin so I could experience taking the train to work -at that time there was no rapid transit in either Denver or Houston.  After the second snow we were concerned about the short drive to the train station.  We lived only one mile from the local station so walking was an option.  However, on the short drive we counted 18 snow plows moving snow starting with the plow working in our drive way.  There were private operators, city plows, state plows and transit authority plows. The long history of heavy snow falls in the state had taught everyone to be prepared.  We never worried about snow again.

Other stories come to mind but these stand out; especially meeting Elizabeth Dole.

Richard's Friends in the snow:

-----30-----
for MIL'S PLACE
by Richard Drake
guest writer, CHS '53
12/5/13

"IT'S MY SNAKE!"

    By AUNT WILLA and MIL

    I have been very lucky to have "married into" a fine

    Christian family of Oklahomans. My wife's mother had

    five sisters and a brother. She married Denzil in 1935

    and they were a very devoted couple.

    Denzil was a  salt-of-the-earth guy---one who was always

    looked up to by his friends. He was always a chairman

    or president... of the deacons or the building committee,

    Rotary Club, or whatever. I admire him as one of the best 

    men I have ever known.

    Now, he had a great sense of humor and was happiest

    when he was poking fun at Pauline. He particularly 

    liked to tweak and correct her when she was telling a

    story; sometimes she needed it and other times he was

    merely teasing her, with that mischievous look on his

    face.

    After a few years of being in the family, I began to

    notice that she would cut him off, when he tried to 

    correct her---she sounded mostly good-natured about

    this correction...but occasionally there  was a bit of a

    bite in her tone: "DENZIL, IT'S MY SNAKE."

    After 57 years of marriage to the Beloved Editor, and

    sadly, after the passing of both these much-loved

    parents, I said to her one day: "Let's run down the

    origin of the snake thing; let's ask the aunts!"

    So ALL FAMILIES have cute, priceless, inside sayings

    that came out of some experience and they wouldn't

    sell them for a thousand dollars. After all, they are 

    "family" sayings, and a whole lot of love is attached 

    to them.

    It just happened that Aunt Willa was involved in this

    saying. Here is her tale (by Aunt Willa):

    Mil, I can revisit the snake story for you. When I was

    working in a classroom years ago. We had a story-teller

    come to tell stories to the class. He was telling a story

    about this snake.

    He started his story and as he continued, he said: "And

    the snake opened one eye and then the other." A 

    young student said: "But snakes don't close their

    eyes." 

    The story-teller said, and I quote: "This is my story and

     my snake, and it can do whatever I want."

     I told the story to Pauline and as Denzil often corrected

     her when she was telling things, she began saying:

     "Denzil, this is MY snake!"

     That would remind him not to correct her. This was a fun 

      thing and she used it often. Miss those two very much!

      (And so do we.) Thanks, Aunt Willa. We loved your story!

      *************

      We've  got several other inside family sayings, such as:

      "Who put the snow on?" "SLOSH, SLOSH, " and

      a brand new one: "Did you bring the Girl Scout cookies?!"

      My reader, tell me some of yours and I will tell you more

      of mine!

      

      *********30********

       MIL'S PLACE

       BY AUNT WILLA AND MIL

       12/03/13