Boise Banana Belt

Well, Boise seems to be the Banana Belt of the West. After donning long johns and my St. Christopher medal (yes, all the other apparel too), I charged down our long east-west driveway in 4-wheel drive yesterday morning shortly after Bill had removed the ever-growing and blowing snowdrifts with the old Ford tractor. My destination was Spokane Airport.

The trip down HWY 95 and across the Rathdrum prairie was not a knuckle-biter, but this ol’ speed demon cruised no faster than 55 mph until pulling on to I-90. It was so clear and safe that I almost forgot about the blizzard back home until heading up the hill toward the airport. Then, back to 45 and 4-wheeling.

With Boise as the eventual destination, the itinerary included a trip to Seattle and a one flight that took off an hour late. That gave me time, I think, to leave my coat somewhere in Spokane Airport. This was not discovered, however, until I plopped in my seat on the flight to Boise. Fortunately, the flight attendants were pretty understanding as I jumped up, announced the discovery and weaved my way through several dozen passengers still boarding the plane.

No luck in my quick search of my brief stops in the Seattle terminal. Then, I reasoned that the coat must have been left on the earlier plane. Later, I decided maybe it was Spokane. Still don’t know its whereabouts but am hoping to connect with a kind lost-and-founder somewhere who’ll say it’s there waiting for me. Lucky for me that I do remember what time my flight goes out this afternoon cuz my itinerary for the e-ticket is in the coat pocket.

Seattle wasn’t a total bust. In fact, the half-hour stop-over turned rather profitable people-wise. The first person I spotted while walking to my gate was none other than A.C. Woolnough, my former principal. He was hoping to arrive at his destination of Bethel, Alaska, sometime this week. He's a principal at one of the local schools. With flights backed up and few and far between, he was figuring on days rather than hours.

A few minutes later, I instantly recognized Dennis Erickson as he came off a flight from his most recent departure----San Francisco and the ‘49’ers. This was a situation where knowing someone who knows someone comes in handy.

I walked up to the coach and told him I was Ted Strohmaier’s classmate. Ted and I graduated from Sandpoint High School almost 40 years ago. We also learned our Catholic education together through Sister School and Catechism at St. Joseph’s in Sandpoint. When Dennis heard Ted’s name, there was instant recognition, a smile, a handshake and a request to tell his old golfing buddy hello.

Dennis hung around for a while, waiting for someone (maybe a prospective new employer), so I took advantage of his presence and gleaned an autograph for my son Willie, the sports editor at the Newport Miner. For all interested news hounds, Dennis was headed to Coeur d’Alene. I wondered if possibly NIC was starting a football program and needed a coach.

Just before boarding my plane and making the infamous missing coat discovery, I also spotted Harmon Cantrell, the controller for Forest Capital Partners, LLC, in Coeur d’Alene. More St. Joseph’s camaraderie, although I must say Harmon has earned far more medals on the Catholic honor roll than I.

We also started first grade together, where the teacher instantly identified us as the “poor left-handers” who would never learn to write. Well, we did okay and continued to go along parallel lines from that point through our University of Idaho education. Hadn’t seen Harmon in a long time, so it was good to catch up.

Besides the coat fiasco, I suffered another setback on the flight to Seattle. Never before, have I experienced such horrific pressure on my ears. In fact, for a few moments before landing, I was positive that the innards from my head would suddenly explode and splatter blood, wax and whatever brain matter exists in there all over the nearby passengers.

The pain was excruciating, and I was sure it must be an age thing. The popping continued until just before I landed in Boise where my daughter-in-law reassured me that she’d suffered similar bouts when flying to Seattle. I’m wondering if those volcanic mountains below were sending forth messages.

Once we landed in Boise, where the ground was bare, the grass was green and the temperature hovering in the mid-40s, it was obvious the long johns would have to go. Had a fun night visiting with my former student who’s being honored later this morning as the Idaho Assistant Administrator of the Year.

We enjoyed a meal at the Ram and then visited until almost midnight. This is definitely a fun reason to leave town in the middle of the winter; I just hope I can find where in the Northwest my purple coat is currently residing.

Happy Monday!!