Monday, January 31, 2005
Mickinnick Trail
We discovered a strenuous but fun way to see the neighbors yesterday. Word had spread that the Mickinnick Trail on Greenhorn Mountain is walkable and about halfway complete. So, about 3 p.m. we drove up the road to the parking lot. It's not usable yet, but at least folks know where to start.
I must inject a word or two about Greenhorn. This mountain northwest of Sandpoint has stood watch over me and my family for most of my life. My mother named her Western greeting cards collection in its honor; I own Greenhorn Mountain Press (a name-only concern). My brothers frequently hiked the mountainside as kids.
One brother even went up there one night when the folks were talking about selling his beloved Appaloosa horse. He was devastated, so he just headed up the mountain to think about it. When he didn't come back until long after dark, my parents began to worry. Finally, when he arrived and told them how upset he was, the horse stayed.
The mountain means a lot to all of us. So, we were thrilled to learn that a generous woman named Nickie Pleass has set aside 300 acres of her land on the south end of the mountain for a hiking trail. Some coordination ensued.
Between the city and the Forest Service, also landowners on the mountain, the Mickinnick Trail concept was born. The name plays on Nickie, her late husband Mick and the kinnikinick evergreen shrub, which grows abundantly in this area.
Bill and I hiked the route about 15 months ago when only pink flagging gave us a clue of where the trail was headed. We did make it to the top of Greenhorn (long one of my dreams) but not without a good story of struggles and stickers as we descended in darkness.
Yesterday's hike was considerably easier than that first nearly disastrous experience. We also ran into several neighbors who are beating the crowds sure to come in the summer to grab some breath-taking views a fast-growing Sandpoint and surrounding jewel, Lake Pend Oreille.
We all commented that this would probably be the only time in our lifetimes that we could actually take that trail in January.
It was a steep way to see the neighbors and the lake but well worth the experience in all cases.
I must inject a word or two about Greenhorn. This mountain northwest of Sandpoint has stood watch over me and my family for most of my life. My mother named her Western greeting cards collection in its honor; I own Greenhorn Mountain Press (a name-only concern). My brothers frequently hiked the mountainside as kids.
One brother even went up there one night when the folks were talking about selling his beloved Appaloosa horse. He was devastated, so he just headed up the mountain to think about it. When he didn't come back until long after dark, my parents began to worry. Finally, when he arrived and told them how upset he was, the horse stayed.
The mountain means a lot to all of us. So, we were thrilled to learn that a generous woman named Nickie Pleass has set aside 300 acres of her land on the south end of the mountain for a hiking trail. Some coordination ensued.
Between the city and the Forest Service, also landowners on the mountain, the Mickinnick Trail concept was born. The name plays on Nickie, her late husband Mick and the kinnikinick evergreen shrub, which grows abundantly in this area.
Bill and I hiked the route about 15 months ago when only pink flagging gave us a clue of where the trail was headed. We did make it to the top of Greenhorn (long one of my dreams) but not without a good story of struggles and stickers as we descended in darkness.
Yesterday's hike was considerably easier than that first nearly disastrous experience. We also ran into several neighbors who are beating the crowds sure to come in the summer to grab some breath-taking views a fast-growing Sandpoint and surrounding jewel, Lake Pend Oreille.
We all commented that this would probably be the only time in our lifetimes that we could actually take that trail in January.
It was a steep way to see the neighbors and the lake but well worth the experience in all cases.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Ta'c meeywi
The hypersensitive smoke alarm disturbed my kuy mamaac this meeywi. So, I decided to get an early start on some research for my next story. It's 5:45, and I've already put in a wash, taken a bath, washed and dried my hair, fed the cats, and completed another segment of research on the maamin for which the niimiipuu are credited.
As you may see by now, if you haven't gone to clean your glasses, my research involves the Nez Perce Tribe (niimiipuu) and its association with the Appaloosa (maamin) horse. The greeting in the headline is Nez Perce for "good morning."
Much of my research is coming from a very informative website (http://www.nezpercetrail.net/) dealing with the Nez Perce Trail Foundation. This organization has worked with various agencies over the past couple of decades to develop understanding and make decisions dealing with the trail taken by Chief Joseph (Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, or Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain) , his people and his horses when they fled the U.S. Cavalry in 1877.
The trail extends for more than 1,100 miles from Oregon through Central Idaho, Southern Idaho, Yellowstone Park and eventually to the Northeast corner of Montana.
The Nez Perce were 40 miles from the Canadian border in hopes of meeting up with Sitting Bull before the battle-weary Joseph surrendered, thinking he could return to his people in Oregon. Instead, he was taken to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and later sent to Northeast Washington near Spokane where he died in 1904.
My story will deal with how the Appaloosa horse has brought an understanding between the white and Indian cultures, especially since the organization of the Appaloosa Horse Club in the 1940s (of which my dad was a charter member) and the later Chief Joseph Trail Ride founded in the mid-1960s. Each year nearly 250 riders follow a segment of the route the Nez Perce took in 1877.
Fascinating stuff. Lilooyea (I'm thankful) for such assignments, especially because of my dad's influence and respect for the breed and its history.
Ta'c leeheyn to all.
As you may see by now, if you haven't gone to clean your glasses, my research involves the Nez Perce Tribe (niimiipuu) and its association with the Appaloosa (maamin) horse. The greeting in the headline is Nez Perce for "good morning."
Much of my research is coming from a very informative website (http://www.nezpercetrail.net/) dealing with the Nez Perce Trail Foundation. This organization has worked with various agencies over the past couple of decades to develop understanding and make decisions dealing with the trail taken by Chief Joseph (Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, or Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain) , his people and his horses when they fled the U.S. Cavalry in 1877.
The trail extends for more than 1,100 miles from Oregon through Central Idaho, Southern Idaho, Yellowstone Park and eventually to the Northeast corner of Montana.
The Nez Perce were 40 miles from the Canadian border in hopes of meeting up with Sitting Bull before the battle-weary Joseph surrendered, thinking he could return to his people in Oregon. Instead, he was taken to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and later sent to Northeast Washington near Spokane where he died in 1904.
My story will deal with how the Appaloosa horse has brought an understanding between the white and Indian cultures, especially since the organization of the Appaloosa Horse Club in the 1940s (of which my dad was a charter member) and the later Chief Joseph Trail Ride founded in the mid-1960s. Each year nearly 250 riders follow a segment of the route the Nez Perce took in 1877.
Fascinating stuff. Lilooyea (I'm thankful) for such assignments, especially because of my dad's influence and respect for the breed and its history.
Ta'c leeheyn to all.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Coffee Cult Day
I'm holding back on the caffeine because today is coffee-cult day. Happens every Saturday at Di Luna's Restauant in Sandpoint. I've been participating for nearly three years now.
My personal coffee-cult group started getting together at least 20 years ago, so I'm definitely a babe-in-arms among the women. They welcomed me in one March day prior to my retirement in 2002. Back then, they were meeting at Griff and Willy's on First Avenue.
They've changed venues several times after starting out at the Pastime, one of Sandpoint's old-time favorite gathering spots. It's been replaced by a Chinese Restaurant. When the coffee cult first met there, most of them worked in downtown businesses.
That's changed a bit. Now most have retired and just pick up a few bucks here and there at part-time jobs. Maggie, one of the more matriarchal drinkers, runs a daycare center at Dover. She also helps run Dover's business as a city council person. Alice, the cult president, works at the liquor store and adheres to a strict policy of not sharing with us names of her regular customers. She's no fun!
Joan and Pearl, after retiring from the Sandpoint Post Office and having enough of the stay-at-home retirment stuff, teamed up last spring to manage the Kootenai Post Office. They replaced the lady who'd been there for 44 years. Joan tells me she'd like to achieve a 50-year run at being employed during her lifetime. Pearl says she's just gotta stay busy.
Frances used to work at a meat-packing plant. She and her hubby like to golf these days. Sue and her husband used to own a local pharmacy and gift shop. Carol worked for several years at a downtown clothing shop. Donna has left us for a few months on her annual pilgrimage to Arizona and sunshine.
Betsy's been fighting off bouts of cancer. She and her husband just sold their thriving antique store, so we're getting to see more of Betsy now. Penny, a retired nurse, calls herself the high-maintenance member. She was telling me last week about how hypnosis has helped her lose nearly 30 pounds in the past few months.
Laura, who's moved to St. Maries, came by last Saturday to show off her huge diamond. She's divorced and getting remarried. So, we all went "ooooh and aaaaah." I'm sure she appreciated our approval.
I know I've forgotten someone, but after I've tanked up on a little more caffeine, any missing names shall be added to this post.
Everyone should have a coffee cult. No pressure. Lots of laughs and a sense of warmth, knowing there's a group of friends who will always welcome you and whatever you have to contribute to the weekly chatter.
My personal coffee-cult group started getting together at least 20 years ago, so I'm definitely a babe-in-arms among the women. They welcomed me in one March day prior to my retirement in 2002. Back then, they were meeting at Griff and Willy's on First Avenue.
They've changed venues several times after starting out at the Pastime, one of Sandpoint's old-time favorite gathering spots. It's been replaced by a Chinese Restaurant. When the coffee cult first met there, most of them worked in downtown businesses.
That's changed a bit. Now most have retired and just pick up a few bucks here and there at part-time jobs. Maggie, one of the more matriarchal drinkers, runs a daycare center at Dover. She also helps run Dover's business as a city council person. Alice, the cult president, works at the liquor store and adheres to a strict policy of not sharing with us names of her regular customers. She's no fun!
Joan and Pearl, after retiring from the Sandpoint Post Office and having enough of the stay-at-home retirment stuff, teamed up last spring to manage the Kootenai Post Office. They replaced the lady who'd been there for 44 years. Joan tells me she'd like to achieve a 50-year run at being employed during her lifetime. Pearl says she's just gotta stay busy.
Frances used to work at a meat-packing plant. She and her hubby like to golf these days. Sue and her husband used to own a local pharmacy and gift shop. Carol worked for several years at a downtown clothing shop. Donna has left us for a few months on her annual pilgrimage to Arizona and sunshine.
Betsy's been fighting off bouts of cancer. She and her husband just sold their thriving antique store, so we're getting to see more of Betsy now. Penny, a retired nurse, calls herself the high-maintenance member. She was telling me last week about how hypnosis has helped her lose nearly 30 pounds in the past few months.
Laura, who's moved to St. Maries, came by last Saturday to show off her huge diamond. She's divorced and getting remarried. So, we all went "ooooh and aaaaah." I'm sure she appreciated our approval.
I know I've forgotten someone, but after I've tanked up on a little more caffeine, any missing names shall be added to this post.
Everyone should have a coffee cult. No pressure. Lots of laughs and a sense of warmth, knowing there's a group of friends who will always welcome you and whatever you have to contribute to the weekly chatter.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Chopping words
I'll be slicing, dicing, rearranging and cussing today. I hope the book publisher doesn't read my blog. If he does, he will probably never hire me to do a writing job again. In fact, in one of my emails last night to his appointed "sheriff" of writing operations, I opened the way for the axe.
A year ago, the publisher assigned me a piece dealing with history of white settlement around Lake Pend Oreille. The deadlines have changed several times, with the most recent this past Monday. One item of contention that has not changed is the expected word count---3,000. This assignment will go in a book, not a newspaper or magazine.
Would someone out there please humor me and tell me that they, too, would have a difficult time using just 3,000 words to pen a history of white settlement in Bayview, Lakeview, Clark Fork, Hope, Trestle Creek, Kootenai, Ponderay, Sandpoint, Dover, Laclede, Seneacquoteen, Priest River, Glengary, Garfield Bay, and Talache? Those are the communities that still exist; several rose and fell quickly.
My incomplete manuscript this morning numbers 17,000 words. To satisfy the wishes of the assignment, I'm thinking of taking the Julius Caesar succinct approach: They came. They said, "Well, golly gee, what a purty place! They called in the developers.
Amen. I'm off to get the axe---one way or the other.
A year ago, the publisher assigned me a piece dealing with history of white settlement around Lake Pend Oreille. The deadlines have changed several times, with the most recent this past Monday. One item of contention that has not changed is the expected word count---3,000. This assignment will go in a book, not a newspaper or magazine.
Would someone out there please humor me and tell me that they, too, would have a difficult time using just 3,000 words to pen a history of white settlement in Bayview, Lakeview, Clark Fork, Hope, Trestle Creek, Kootenai, Ponderay, Sandpoint, Dover, Laclede, Seneacquoteen, Priest River, Glengary, Garfield Bay, and Talache? Those are the communities that still exist; several rose and fell quickly.
My incomplete manuscript this morning numbers 17,000 words. To satisfy the wishes of the assignment, I'm thinking of taking the Julius Caesar succinct approach: They came. They said, "Well, golly gee, what a purty place! They called in the developers.
Amen. I'm off to get the axe---one way or the other.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Lake detour
Since I'm definitely on a slight detour to a time and place where steamboats reigned supreme, I must keep this short today. Today's writing journey takes me to the early 1900s when Canadian transplant Ed Elliott founded the Northern Navigation Co. (1906) and later built his majestic boat The Northern.
Ed had the mail/freight contract, which meant cruising the 11o-mile perimeter of Lake Pend Oreille every day. His route from Sandpoint took him first to Hope, then on to Bayview before returning to home port. At the time, there were 10 landings along the way.
Later, he added to his navigational offerings by loading up as many as 250 passengers for picnic/moonlight dancing cruises on the lake. Ed had enough of that by 1919 when he began towing logs, claiming his work was much more rewarding because the logs "didn't talk back like people did." He also is credited with moving nearly 50 mill houses from Laclede to Dover after the A.C. White Mill burned down in the early 1920s.
Wish he were still alive; he'd be a great interview.
Anyway, I've gotta float off and get this segment of the Lake Pend Oreille story completed. So, I'll again route today's readers to my website (http:// www.mariannelove.com) where two new stories appeared last evening.
Enjoy.
Ed had the mail/freight contract, which meant cruising the 11o-mile perimeter of Lake Pend Oreille every day. His route from Sandpoint took him first to Hope, then on to Bayview before returning to home port. At the time, there were 10 landings along the way.
Later, he added to his navigational offerings by loading up as many as 250 passengers for picnic/moonlight dancing cruises on the lake. Ed had enough of that by 1919 when he began towing logs, claiming his work was much more rewarding because the logs "didn't talk back like people did." He also is credited with moving nearly 50 mill houses from Laclede to Dover after the A.C. White Mill burned down in the early 1920s.
Wish he were still alive; he'd be a great interview.
Anyway, I've gotta float off and get this segment of the Lake Pend Oreille story completed. So, I'll again route today's readers to my website (http:// www.mariannelove.com) where two new stories appeared last evening.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
40 years
Another class reunion meeting tonight. About half a dozen of us have been meeting since September to plan the party. Not much planning gets done, but we sure have fun.
In July, the Sandpoint High School Class of 1965 will gather in Sandpoint to reminisce and catch up on each others' lives. Hard to believe it's been 40 years. We're hoping a lot of people will just show up, sit back and enjoy each other. None of this clique stuff. We're too old for that. We've got nothing to prove except that we're alive and breathing. And that's an accomplishment for many of us.
With the class reunion meeting, I guess I won't be attending the Blogfest Seminar at the Spokesman office in Coeur d'Alene this evening. Darn! It sounds like it would be a lot of fun, learning from the experts on how to do this stuff.
I must say, after about a month's worth of this daily writing activity, it's worth the time spent. Makes you think about what's important in your life each day and boil it down to something worth reading. I think I like being a blogger.
Must move on to my day's work and to the never-ending story of Lake Pend Oreille.
Happy swimming everyone.
Also, I invite readers to my website (www.mariannelove.com) this evening. My latest "Love Notes" column and one of my most favorite writing assignments ever (the history of the IGA) will appear, once the latest River Journal (www.riverjournal.com) hits the streets.
In July, the Sandpoint High School Class of 1965 will gather in Sandpoint to reminisce and catch up on each others' lives. Hard to believe it's been 40 years. We're hoping a lot of people will just show up, sit back and enjoy each other. None of this clique stuff. We're too old for that. We've got nothing to prove except that we're alive and breathing. And that's an accomplishment for many of us.
With the class reunion meeting, I guess I won't be attending the Blogfest Seminar at the Spokesman office in Coeur d'Alene this evening. Darn! It sounds like it would be a lot of fun, learning from the experts on how to do this stuff.
I must say, after about a month's worth of this daily writing activity, it's worth the time spent. Makes you think about what's important in your life each day and boil it down to something worth reading. I think I like being a blogger.
Must move on to my day's work and to the never-ending story of Lake Pend Oreille.
Happy swimming everyone.
Also, I invite readers to my website (www.mariannelove.com) this evening. My latest "Love Notes" column and one of my most favorite writing assignments ever (the history of the IGA) will appear, once the latest River Journal (www.riverjournal.com) hits the streets.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Sad story of the Kalispel
This week I'm revisiting a stack of materials gleaned during several months of research for my Pend Oreille Lake project. Focusing on a history of the white settlement around the lake, I can't help but take a cue from my brother's cartoon and mention a significant but very sad segment of the story---the Sandpoint Treaty of 1887.
With this unratified treaty, the Kalispel Indians received their walking papers. Their lands were confiscated when the U.S. government supported the railroad interests which were constructing their line through the Kalispel lands in 1883. According to historians, huge amounts of Kalispel lands and valuable timber were transferred to the railroad. The rest was made available for white settlers.
Historian Nancy F. Renk writes in her "A Brief History of Bonner County" (www.bonnercountyhistory.org/History/BChistory/bchistory.html) that traditional Kalispel territory extended from Lake Pend Oreille along the Pend Oreille River into Eastern Washington and east along the Clark Fork River into Montana. She adds that they established year-round settlements near present-day Laclede, on both sides of the river, and at the mouth of the Clark Fork where 300-400 Kalispel lived.
During the 19th Century, Euro-Americans began to encroach on these lands. With failed efforts to establish a reservation for the Kalispel, bad feelings arose. "Michael, leader of the upper Kalispel, signed a treaty with the government in Sandpoint in 1887, but Masselow, leader of the Lower Kalispel, refused to agree to its terms," Renk continues. "As a result, Congress never ratified the treaty." Those living near the lake had to leave the region. They went to live with relatives in Coeur d'Alene, Montana or Eastern Washington.
Renk reports that later, in 1914, the Kalispel finally received more than 4,500 acres of land for a reservation in Eastern Washington and the tribe continued to move in and out of Bonner County into the 1930s. Their headquarters are located in Usk, Washington (www.kalispeltribe.com/history-chronos.html).
With this unratified treaty, the Kalispel Indians received their walking papers. Their lands were confiscated when the U.S. government supported the railroad interests which were constructing their line through the Kalispel lands in 1883. According to historians, huge amounts of Kalispel lands and valuable timber were transferred to the railroad. The rest was made available for white settlers.
Historian Nancy F. Renk writes in her "A Brief History of Bonner County" (www.bonnercountyhistory.org/History/BChistory/bchistory.html) that traditional Kalispel territory extended from Lake Pend Oreille along the Pend Oreille River into Eastern Washington and east along the Clark Fork River into Montana. She adds that they established year-round settlements near present-day Laclede, on both sides of the river, and at the mouth of the Clark Fork where 300-400 Kalispel lived.
During the 19th Century, Euro-Americans began to encroach on these lands. With failed efforts to establish a reservation for the Kalispel, bad feelings arose. "Michael, leader of the upper Kalispel, signed a treaty with the government in Sandpoint in 1887, but Masselow, leader of the Lower Kalispel, refused to agree to its terms," Renk continues. "As a result, Congress never ratified the treaty." Those living near the lake had to leave the region. They went to live with relatives in Coeur d'Alene, Montana or Eastern Washington.
Renk reports that later, in 1914, the Kalispel finally received more than 4,500 acres of land for a reservation in Eastern Washington and the tribe continued to move in and out of Bonner County into the 1930s. Their headquarters are located in Usk, Washington (www.kalispeltribe.com/history-chronos.html).
Monday, January 24, 2005
Big Eddy calls
We went on a brief geocaching outing yesterday---well, it would be brief by Bill's standards---just over three hours. As he does with fishing, Bill stays out well after dark on many of his geocaching adventures.
Yesterday, however, he had to return for a tuba practice at the Presbyterian Church. He's teaming up with some other brass players for a Lenten performance of some sort. Must be ecumenical because the Lutheran minister is involved.
While Bill is addicted to journaling, GPS techno stuff and observing the surrounding eco-systems, I go along on these outings for the ride, the hike and an escape from my workaholicism. Yesterday's abbreviated geocache adventure took us east to Montana and areas where our family often went on Sunday drives back in the '50s and '60s.
Kids were scrunched in the back seat and told to "count the deer" while my dad pursued little-known side roads and scared the beejeebers out of my mother. One time when we ended up underneath a power line on some remote hilltop, she almost went into labor with my little sister Laurie. Laurie chose to wait, however, because she didn't like high-mountain roads either.
Anyway, the Lovemobile took us yesterday to a campground along the Clark Fork River called Big Eddy. I've driven by it at least a hundred times and never knew it existed. While Bill searched out his cache hidden beneath needles at the base of a huge Ponderosa, I took off on a trail along the river.
An exuberant stream bubbling from the hillside and feeding into the Clark Fork provided a turnaround point. By the time I returned to the car, Bill had found his first cache, put there by Grandpapa, and was ready to head for Bull River to search for the other.
This time we traveled up the Bull River highway for a few miles before turning off on the East Fork Road, where our destination was an historic ranger station two miles away. Though the snow was deeper than we're seeing in Sandpoint, the road remained a bit icy but passable.
We found the ranger station, built by a good friend of Theodore Roosevelt's and considered the oldest on the Kootenai National Forest. Surrounding informative signs noted that the first ranger's wife created good feelings around the area through her gracious hospitality. The Forest Service and locals are restoring the site. They've even planted a new orchard to replace those fruit trees from the early 1900s, which have died off.
Our little adventure yesterday into Western Montana's beauty and its past proves that the sport of geocaching (www.geocaching.com) reaches far beyond a GPS and a map. Definitely fun stuff.
Yesterday, however, he had to return for a tuba practice at the Presbyterian Church. He's teaming up with some other brass players for a Lenten performance of some sort. Must be ecumenical because the Lutheran minister is involved.
While Bill is addicted to journaling, GPS techno stuff and observing the surrounding eco-systems, I go along on these outings for the ride, the hike and an escape from my workaholicism. Yesterday's abbreviated geocache adventure took us east to Montana and areas where our family often went on Sunday drives back in the '50s and '60s.
Kids were scrunched in the back seat and told to "count the deer" while my dad pursued little-known side roads and scared the beejeebers out of my mother. One time when we ended up underneath a power line on some remote hilltop, she almost went into labor with my little sister Laurie. Laurie chose to wait, however, because she didn't like high-mountain roads either.
Anyway, the Lovemobile took us yesterday to a campground along the Clark Fork River called Big Eddy. I've driven by it at least a hundred times and never knew it existed. While Bill searched out his cache hidden beneath needles at the base of a huge Ponderosa, I took off on a trail along the river.
An exuberant stream bubbling from the hillside and feeding into the Clark Fork provided a turnaround point. By the time I returned to the car, Bill had found his first cache, put there by Grandpapa, and was ready to head for Bull River to search for the other.
This time we traveled up the Bull River highway for a few miles before turning off on the East Fork Road, where our destination was an historic ranger station two miles away. Though the snow was deeper than we're seeing in Sandpoint, the road remained a bit icy but passable.
We found the ranger station, built by a good friend of Theodore Roosevelt's and considered the oldest on the Kootenai National Forest. Surrounding informative signs noted that the first ranger's wife created good feelings around the area through her gracious hospitality. The Forest Service and locals are restoring the site. They've even planted a new orchard to replace those fruit trees from the early 1900s, which have died off.
Our little adventure yesterday into Western Montana's beauty and its past proves that the sport of geocaching (www.geocaching.com) reaches far beyond a GPS and a map. Definitely fun stuff.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Barnyard muck, Chaucer, the Olympics
My trip to feed the horses this morning inspired me to excerpt the following from my new book. It's from a story called "Stay Outa My House." Enjoy!
Once Bill and I were married, our humble abodes served as venues for kids to gather for such events. Most at-home activities were filled with food and off-the-wall craziness. A couple of times, we even hosted the Mud Olympics.
This event occurred during late February or early March when a walk across the barnyard could mean big trouble and possible expletives deleted. This was a time when foot-deep mud would come alive, turn evil and suck the barn boot right off your foot. It all happened so quickly that your bootless sock, with foot inside, was already submerged in the partially-thawed muck.
Perfect time to bring on the games!
The Olympics, which would pit Student Council against the Math Club or Leohono Honor Society, included such events as mud football games, mud flings, the mud relay and the mud tug, which took place in the really slimy garden spot. The horses, who inhabited the pasture, were never really sure of their role as spectators or participants.
I have photos of high-school kids, like ASB president Hoyt Bonar, holding a willing Willie---who was in grade school at the time---by the feet and dipping him and his white blond hair mop into a waiting pool of wet horse apples and mucky barnyard slop.
The parade and medal ceremony occurred in our hay mow, with Bill playing the Olympic theme on his harmonica as proud but filthy teen-aged Olympians marched between the hay piles and received their respective awards.
All participants also received strict instructions on exactly where they were to remove their soiled Olympic uniforms before setting foot near the house for the potluck afterward. Boys had the barn tack room, while girls changed into clean clothes in the bunkhouse.
Other educators, like assistant principal Larry Jacobson, Spanish teacher Merriam Merriman, and math teacher Rick Gehring with his wife Ann, lent credibility to the event by actually showing up and participating.
We also hosted a spring picnic for my senior English classes to honor Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Using the scavenger-hunt approach, my seniors began their pigrimage by climbing the ladder to that same hay loft where they would retrieve their first clue for where to go next.
Each clue was penned in metrical-tale rhyme scheme with a little iambic pentameter thrown in for fun. The short poem directed them to the next spot somewhere on the place or even in the neighborhood, where a group would read their original tale of modern-day workers.
Often, the most popular stories centered on whoever happened to be the school principal at the time. Fortunately, for me, the lucky central character was never in attendance.
By the end of the pilgrimage, a couple of neutral judges (other teachers like Judy Helton or Gale Hamby) decided who had created the most clever tale. The lucky winners later dined on steak---not hamburgers or hotdogs---at the climactic eating fest.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Sunshine Ahead
In less than one month my mother and I will board a plane and head to Phoenix. We'll spend a week in the Southwest.
We're hoping El Nino treats us well. Last year we drove toward Prescott in a raging snowstorm. After a brief visit with my friend Susie, we turned that car around and headed south to Tucson. I announced several times that I didn't fly to Arizona to see more snow. So, we're hoping for better weather this year.
We'll take in the Scottsdale Arabian Show for a couple of days, visit my cousin Barb, my uncle Don and then drive to Palm Springs to visit more friends. My daughter Annie from Seattle may go sun-chasing with us too.
The trip will be a welcome break from sitting here at my computer finishing deadline after deadline. I'm a "can't-say-no" person when offered a tantalizing writing assignment. Some earn me a respectable chunk of money; some, a bit more modest. It's the North Idaho way for freelancers.
When accepting these stories, I'm usually driven by the fascinating research-and-writing journey ahead. For example, this morning I finished a 2,600-word piece about the 60-year history of Harolds Super Foods, which, in essence, reflects a rich tapestry of Sandpoint's past. I'm emotionally drained from this story because of so many revisits to hilariously funny, painfully tragic, and deeply touching moments associated with the store and its colorful cast of characters.
Finishing the Harolds story was going to open up my schedule and allow me to concentrate on a year-long assignment for Keokee Publishing to chronicle a light history of white settlement around Lake Pend Oreille. Last January, my publisher gave me 3,000 words to do this.
I happily accepted those terms and then got started. Now, nearly a year later, I'm still wondering how I'll squeeze the stories of no fewer than a dozen lakeside communities into 3,000 words, especially since my initial and incomplete draft now amounts to about 7,000. That assignment, which will be included in a new Dennis Nicholls hiking guidebook, is due in two days; thankfully, they've given me a 10-day extension.
While wrapping up the Harolds story yesterday, an email from my editor at the Appaloosa Journal (www.appaloosa.com) appeared. Diane asked me write an 800-word piece on how the Appaloosa horse has brought together people, cultures and organizations, specifically the ApHC and the Nez Perce Trail Foundation. Due Feb. 15.
She admitted it would involve a LOT of research for 800 words but added, "I know you can do it." Shortly thereafter, an email popped up on Diane's computer, asking "How flexible ARE you with the deadline?" She said I could have until the 28th. I accepted the assignment.
Then, there's the next "Love Notes" column due Feb. 12. And, somewhere in between, I'd like to get my 300-page manuscript for my latest book in order to send to an editor. I promised her a copy by Feb. 1.
So many deadlines, so little time. Yup, that week of traveling Arizona highways is gonna be very welcome.
We're hoping El Nino treats us well. Last year we drove toward Prescott in a raging snowstorm. After a brief visit with my friend Susie, we turned that car around and headed south to Tucson. I announced several times that I didn't fly to Arizona to see more snow. So, we're hoping for better weather this year.
We'll take in the Scottsdale Arabian Show for a couple of days, visit my cousin Barb, my uncle Don and then drive to Palm Springs to visit more friends. My daughter Annie from Seattle may go sun-chasing with us too.
The trip will be a welcome break from sitting here at my computer finishing deadline after deadline. I'm a "can't-say-no" person when offered a tantalizing writing assignment. Some earn me a respectable chunk of money; some, a bit more modest. It's the North Idaho way for freelancers.
When accepting these stories, I'm usually driven by the fascinating research-and-writing journey ahead. For example, this morning I finished a 2,600-word piece about the 60-year history of Harolds Super Foods, which, in essence, reflects a rich tapestry of Sandpoint's past. I'm emotionally drained from this story because of so many revisits to hilariously funny, painfully tragic, and deeply touching moments associated with the store and its colorful cast of characters.
Finishing the Harolds story was going to open up my schedule and allow me to concentrate on a year-long assignment for Keokee Publishing to chronicle a light history of white settlement around Lake Pend Oreille. Last January, my publisher gave me 3,000 words to do this.
I happily accepted those terms and then got started. Now, nearly a year later, I'm still wondering how I'll squeeze the stories of no fewer than a dozen lakeside communities into 3,000 words, especially since my initial and incomplete draft now amounts to about 7,000. That assignment, which will be included in a new Dennis Nicholls hiking guidebook, is due in two days; thankfully, they've given me a 10-day extension.
While wrapping up the Harolds story yesterday, an email from my editor at the Appaloosa Journal (www.appaloosa.com) appeared. Diane asked me write an 800-word piece on how the Appaloosa horse has brought together people, cultures and organizations, specifically the ApHC and the Nez Perce Trail Foundation. Due Feb. 15.
She admitted it would involve a LOT of research for 800 words but added, "I know you can do it." Shortly thereafter, an email popped up on Diane's computer, asking "How flexible ARE you with the deadline?" She said I could have until the 28th. I accepted the assignment.
Then, there's the next "Love Notes" column due Feb. 12. And, somewhere in between, I'd like to get my 300-page manuscript for my latest book in order to send to an editor. I promised her a copy by Feb. 1.
So many deadlines, so little time. Yup, that week of traveling Arizona highways is gonna be very welcome.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Of Turtledom and Such
My son thinks Mr. Huckleberry of Blogdom has a secret motive behind his promotion of the Spokesman-Review blogging seminar for North Idahoans. He worries that too many blogs may signal the end to the morning "Handle."
That would be bad for the Love house because paper-reading time and its accompanying commentary provides the highlight of our day.
There's a pecking order for who gets to read the two newspapers first. Every day but Wednesday I collect the papers. One day each week, Bill combines driving the garbage cart to the roadside with bringing in the Wednesday editions.
He knows, however, to lay both papers on the table next to my computer. I do have the divine right, being the oldest, the most journalistically seasoned and the most selfish news junkie, to read the papers before anyone else.
Bill learned long ago that it's much easier to reread yesterday's editions or even the Nickel's Worth while he awaits his turn for today's hot stories. Since Willie gets up a little later, I do fend off his guilt stare by doling out the Spokesman sports section.
During this period each morning, we (Bill, Willie and I) delight in being irreverent, critical, judgmental, politically incorrect, biting and maybe even downright nasty as we read the morning news within the safe haven of our house. Hope the Patriot Act hasn't got us bugged.
Willie says that, though we do like each other, our family journalistic bonding does not compel us to gather in front of the computer screen to read blogs for our daily news fix. He prefers the old-fashioned method.
So, Mr. Huckleberry, if you wish to allay his suspicions, drop him a line at welove3@hotmail.com. I'm sure he'd be glad to discuss his concerns.
On to a completely different subject.
Are you a turtle? If any one out there can answer this correctly, please send your response to my email address malove@imbris.net. I'd be very interested to learn how you joined the Turtle Club.
That's it for my Friday foolishness. Have a good TGIF.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Government at Work
I witnessed government at work last night. After seeing the plan denied once and tabled a second time by the Sandpoint Planning and Zoning Commission, I got to watch the Sandpoint City Council embrace an out-of-town developer's proposal to turn what was once part of our family farm into an "affordable housing" subdivision.
What we once called "the Upper Place" has been welcomed into the City of Sandpoint, thanks to City Council's 3-2 vote to annex the 21 acres. It was unclear, as one dissenting council person said, how it could be considered "affordable housing" when the 28 lots are priced at $45,000 apiece. They'll have single dwelling homes selling for $160,000-$220,000. At least, these were the prices vaguely tossed around.
One City Council member even asked the City Attorney if the selling price included both the lot price and the housing price. Without one mention of a yes or no, the attorney went into a discussion about the wetlands. I was a bit confused because this didn't really answer the question. Guess I should have been listening more closely.
I also found it extremely interesting as the city's attorney served as a blatantly-open advocate for the developer, skillfully portraying the dissenting neighbors as enemies looking down their noses at the proposed development and as naughty school children who should have done their homework before purchasing what they thought were nice homes in a "rural" atmosphere.
It's always fun to watch the way government stacks the deck when the promise of dollars is involved. Sandpoint at its best!
While watching the city government in action, I couldn't help but wonder what was happening at the Community Hall where, at the same time, a town meeting dealing with a Gem Community survey was occurring.
Many citizens who had, the night before, strongly voiced their opposition to the City relaxing building height rules for Sandpoint were planning to attend the Community Hall gathering. Its purpose was to Imagine Sandpoint in the future. Seems strange to me these meetings occurred at the same time.
Enough said.
What we once called "the Upper Place" has been welcomed into the City of Sandpoint, thanks to City Council's 3-2 vote to annex the 21 acres. It was unclear, as one dissenting council person said, how it could be considered "affordable housing" when the 28 lots are priced at $45,000 apiece. They'll have single dwelling homes selling for $160,000-$220,000. At least, these were the prices vaguely tossed around.
One City Council member even asked the City Attorney if the selling price included both the lot price and the housing price. Without one mention of a yes or no, the attorney went into a discussion about the wetlands. I was a bit confused because this didn't really answer the question. Guess I should have been listening more closely.
I also found it extremely interesting as the city's attorney served as a blatantly-open advocate for the developer, skillfully portraying the dissenting neighbors as enemies looking down their noses at the proposed development and as naughty school children who should have done their homework before purchasing what they thought were nice homes in a "rural" atmosphere.
It's always fun to watch the way government stacks the deck when the promise of dollars is involved. Sandpoint at its best!
While watching the city government in action, I couldn't help but wonder what was happening at the Community Hall where, at the same time, a town meeting dealing with a Gem Community survey was occurring.
Many citizens who had, the night before, strongly voiced their opposition to the City relaxing building height rules for Sandpoint were planning to attend the Community Hall gathering. Its purpose was to Imagine Sandpoint in the future. Seems strange to me these meetings occurred at the same time.
Enough said.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
The People Speak
A former mayor, the present fire chief, several newcomers, some natives and a host of longtime (that means they're 20-something-year residents) Sandpoint citizens voiced their support, opposition and neutral stances last night toward a proposed ordinance that would relax height restrictions of buildings in Sandpoint.
The city planning and zoning commission sat before an audience of approximately 75 constituents and listened to comments for more than two hours. After discussion among themselves, the commission voted to instruct planning and zoning staff to return to a future meeting with a revised ordinance, allowing variances with conditional use permits in some subdistricts but not in others.
After the motion passed, an audience member stood up and told the commission members they had basically voted to allow height variances because of the wording of their motion. After some head scratching and a few additional comments from the audience, someone on the commission moved to amend the earlier motion with some different wording to make everybody happy. It passed. Next month, the commission will revisit the issue.
What does this all mean? It means Harolds Super Foods is not quite yet on the chopping block and destined to be replaced by a 5-story signature headquarters for the ever-growing Panhandle State Bank. If the bank gets the go-ahead for the desired height variance, it plans to use 78,000 square feet on the block occupied by Harolds, the Cinema 4-West Theater, a laundramat and the Hairhut Beauty Salon for its new facility. The proposed financial center would house 130 full-time employees and a few professional offices.
The building height variance would also affect the new Seasons at Sandpoint condos, set for construction north of the Edgewater Resort. Discussion revealed that the Seasons may add another story to the original 3-story concept.
Half a dozen audience members supported the height variance, stating that height doesn't necessarily detract from character or charm. They also suggested that with sky-rocketing land prices, it may be easier to develop up rather than out. In addition, the proponents emphasized that the community could use an increased tax base.
Those opposed provided a full plate of reasons to retain the present 45-foot height limit. Some worry about fire protection and the cost of extra equipment needed to fight fires on top stories of higher buildings. Others want to protect the integrity of the historic district and public access to the waterfront.
Still others, like former Mayor Paul Graves, said it's time for governmental officials to consider the community's people over the big-money interests, saying "money, not people seems to be in charge and that proposed developments will make Sandpoint too expensive for its residents."
Several speakers called the ordinance a "knee-jerk" reaction and stressed the need for those making decisions to revisit and complete a comprehensive plan along with reviewing the citizens' input from a local Gem Community survey. Results of that survey will be discussed at another meeting tonight.
All in all, it's obvious Sandpoint is "at the crossroads," as Paul Graves said last night. There seems to be a strong citizens' network willing to show up at meetings and fight for a treasured quality of small-town life.
The city planning and zoning commission sat before an audience of approximately 75 constituents and listened to comments for more than two hours. After discussion among themselves, the commission voted to instruct planning and zoning staff to return to a future meeting with a revised ordinance, allowing variances with conditional use permits in some subdistricts but not in others.
After the motion passed, an audience member stood up and told the commission members they had basically voted to allow height variances because of the wording of their motion. After some head scratching and a few additional comments from the audience, someone on the commission moved to amend the earlier motion with some different wording to make everybody happy. It passed. Next month, the commission will revisit the issue.
What does this all mean? It means Harolds Super Foods is not quite yet on the chopping block and destined to be replaced by a 5-story signature headquarters for the ever-growing Panhandle State Bank. If the bank gets the go-ahead for the desired height variance, it plans to use 78,000 square feet on the block occupied by Harolds, the Cinema 4-West Theater, a laundramat and the Hairhut Beauty Salon for its new facility. The proposed financial center would house 130 full-time employees and a few professional offices.
The building height variance would also affect the new Seasons at Sandpoint condos, set for construction north of the Edgewater Resort. Discussion revealed that the Seasons may add another story to the original 3-story concept.
Half a dozen audience members supported the height variance, stating that height doesn't necessarily detract from character or charm. They also suggested that with sky-rocketing land prices, it may be easier to develop up rather than out. In addition, the proponents emphasized that the community could use an increased tax base.
Those opposed provided a full plate of reasons to retain the present 45-foot height limit. Some worry about fire protection and the cost of extra equipment needed to fight fires on top stories of higher buildings. Others want to protect the integrity of the historic district and public access to the waterfront.
Still others, like former Mayor Paul Graves, said it's time for governmental officials to consider the community's people over the big-money interests, saying "money, not people seems to be in charge and that proposed developments will make Sandpoint too expensive for its residents."
Several speakers called the ordinance a "knee-jerk" reaction and stressed the need for those making decisions to revisit and complete a comprehensive plan along with reviewing the citizens' input from a local Gem Community survey. Results of that survey will be discussed at another meeting tonight.
All in all, it's obvious Sandpoint is "at the crossroads," as Paul Graves said last night. There seems to be a strong citizens' network willing to show up at meetings and fight for a treasured quality of small-town life.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Slip sliding away
Willie just walked by, dressed and ready for work. I asked him if he was leaving early, and he said, "Yeah, I don't know what the roads will be like."
If my trip out to get the papers is any indication, he's got a fun drive down Great Northern Road to Highway 2, which should be okay from Sandpoint to Newport.
Within the first few steps out the door earlier this morning, I knew I'd better switch to a lower, slower, more careful gear, lest I slide out of control and go splat on my behind into a bone-cracking pool of melted snow on ice.
I've experienced that sensation a time or two. Probably the most memorable happened many years ago at the folks' farm on North Boyer. One of the Hereford cows, infamously named Mary Elephant, had just calved. Her calf was born in wet, cold barnyard smudge.
For some reason, Mary Elephant resented my presence as I walked up to see her new baby. Lowering her head with those beady little eyes and horns primed for attack, she headed my way. I whipped around to escape, slipped on a patch of wet ice and plopped in the middle of the barnyard. The beast continued her pursuit.
My only defense lay in the multitude of wet pools surrounding me. Good ol' sloppy cow dung saved my life that day as I grabbed a handful and flung it at her. Hit her smack dab between the eyes, and if she was ugly before, she really cut a picture with that slimy slop dripping down her face.
After that experience, I've learned to step carefully in such conditions. Today is definitely one of those.
If my trip out to get the papers is any indication, he's got a fun drive down Great Northern Road to Highway 2, which should be okay from Sandpoint to Newport.
Within the first few steps out the door earlier this morning, I knew I'd better switch to a lower, slower, more careful gear, lest I slide out of control and go splat on my behind into a bone-cracking pool of melted snow on ice.
I've experienced that sensation a time or two. Probably the most memorable happened many years ago at the folks' farm on North Boyer. One of the Hereford cows, infamously named Mary Elephant, had just calved. Her calf was born in wet, cold barnyard smudge.
For some reason, Mary Elephant resented my presence as I walked up to see her new baby. Lowering her head with those beady little eyes and horns primed for attack, she headed my way. I whipped around to escape, slipped on a patch of wet ice and plopped in the middle of the barnyard. The beast continued her pursuit.
My only defense lay in the multitude of wet pools surrounding me. Good ol' sloppy cow dung saved my life that day as I grabbed a handful and flung it at her. Hit her smack dab between the eyes, and if she was ugly before, she really cut a picture with that slimy slop dripping down her face.
After that experience, I've learned to step carefully in such conditions. Today is definitely one of those.
Monday, January 17, 2005
5 stories could equal 1 sad story
I'm researching but don't know all the pieces to the puzzle yet. I do know, however, that the best-kept secret rumor in Sandpoint claims that the predicted closing of Harolds Super Foods and its "ainty Maid Bakery" is directly related to a decision to be made at the city planning and zoning commission tomorrow night.
The commission could vote to allow a variance in building heights within the community. This could lead to the construction of a 5-story office complex on the block now occupied by Harolds, a laundromat, the Cinema 4-West movie theater, and my bi-monthly zapping grounds, the Hairhut.
On this Martin Luther King holiday, that possibility brings forth a discussion I've heard echoing through the community ever since the rumored demise of Harolds began to surface. What's going to happen to the poor and to the elderly citizens who have depended on this neighborhood grocery store for several decades? Its convenience for those who must walk has remained central to their ability to keep their cupboards stocked. Where will those people go if there's no Harolds?
Harolds is a Sandpoint institution rich with colorful history. Its owner and founder, Harold Marley, was murdered in the early '80s while making the nightly rounds before locking up. When he opened the door to the restroom serving the IGA cafe, he met a young man with a gun. Harold was shot twice. Family members say he flung a cup of coffee at the shooter before falling dead.
The store also went through its share of disasters---four fires over the decades, but it always rose from the ashes and continued to serve the South Sandpoint community. Most locals can tell stories of where Harold and later his son-in-law, Ralph Bloom, extended generous hands toward the needy in Sandpoint. I know from my own experience that students at Sandpoint High School always knew where to go while looking for massive support in the annual SHS food drive each December.
Of course, everyone's who's ever shopped there has a good story. Mine is of the Biblical nature. One summer day, we were having a family picnic at Jewel Lake. I went to what was then known as the IGA to pick up my share of goodies. While shopping in the fruit section, I selected some bananas. One rather large banana stood out among the clump. Always the pig in my pre-dieting days, I eyed that one as mine.
Once at Jewel Lake, I grabbed my banana before any other family member could get their gloms on it. When it came time to eat the thing, I couldn't get it open. I yanked, pulled and twisted----only to discover that the damn thing was rubber! It had no fruit inside, and that definitely explained why it had been wired to the clump. I took it back to the checker, who enjoyed a good laugh. The incident taught me a humble lesson about going for the biggest piece on the plate.
My IGA story and a host of others will remain but a piece of history if all this rumored progress in our community comes to fruition. And, as one person said to me, a large group of Sandpoint's population will have some new challenges when their neighborhood store no longer exists to serve their needs.
Along with this discussion comes another concern resounding about the town. With this major change in the way our town leaders do business, will Sandpoint, the Gem Community/the West's Best small town, be saying good bye to another quality that inspired those distinctions in the first place-----its well-documented compassion for the less fortunate?
Or, will some empathetic local entrepreneur recognize the impact associated with this community loss and find a way to fill the void, surely to be felt by these people. Planners might even consider a unit or two in the 5-story building serving as a corner grocery store.
The folks who remodeled their motel around the Tam-o-ShanterTervan/Tavern respected the old bar's historical nature; why not this newest planned development? That way everyone wins. Best yet, Sandpoint maintains its fine reputation as an all-inclusive rather than exclusive community.
Time will tell, I guess.
The commission could vote to allow a variance in building heights within the community. This could lead to the construction of a 5-story office complex on the block now occupied by Harolds, a laundromat, the Cinema 4-West movie theater, and my bi-monthly zapping grounds, the Hairhut.
On this Martin Luther King holiday, that possibility brings forth a discussion I've heard echoing through the community ever since the rumored demise of Harolds began to surface. What's going to happen to the poor and to the elderly citizens who have depended on this neighborhood grocery store for several decades? Its convenience for those who must walk has remained central to their ability to keep their cupboards stocked. Where will those people go if there's no Harolds?
Harolds is a Sandpoint institution rich with colorful history. Its owner and founder, Harold Marley, was murdered in the early '80s while making the nightly rounds before locking up. When he opened the door to the restroom serving the IGA cafe, he met a young man with a gun. Harold was shot twice. Family members say he flung a cup of coffee at the shooter before falling dead.
The store also went through its share of disasters---four fires over the decades, but it always rose from the ashes and continued to serve the South Sandpoint community. Most locals can tell stories of where Harold and later his son-in-law, Ralph Bloom, extended generous hands toward the needy in Sandpoint. I know from my own experience that students at Sandpoint High School always knew where to go while looking for massive support in the annual SHS food drive each December.
Of course, everyone's who's ever shopped there has a good story. Mine is of the Biblical nature. One summer day, we were having a family picnic at Jewel Lake. I went to what was then known as the IGA to pick up my share of goodies. While shopping in the fruit section, I selected some bananas. One rather large banana stood out among the clump. Always the pig in my pre-dieting days, I eyed that one as mine.
Once at Jewel Lake, I grabbed my banana before any other family member could get their gloms on it. When it came time to eat the thing, I couldn't get it open. I yanked, pulled and twisted----only to discover that the damn thing was rubber! It had no fruit inside, and that definitely explained why it had been wired to the clump. I took it back to the checker, who enjoyed a good laugh. The incident taught me a humble lesson about going for the biggest piece on the plate.
My IGA story and a host of others will remain but a piece of history if all this rumored progress in our community comes to fruition. And, as one person said to me, a large group of Sandpoint's population will have some new challenges when their neighborhood store no longer exists to serve their needs.
Along with this discussion comes another concern resounding about the town. With this major change in the way our town leaders do business, will Sandpoint, the Gem Community/the West's Best small town, be saying good bye to another quality that inspired those distinctions in the first place-----its well-documented compassion for the less fortunate?
Or, will some empathetic local entrepreneur recognize the impact associated with this community loss and find a way to fill the void, surely to be felt by these people. Planners might even consider a unit or two in the 5-story building serving as a corner grocery store.
The folks who remodeled their motel around the Tam-o-ShanterTervan/Tavern respected the old bar's historical nature; why not this newest planned development? That way everyone wins. Best yet, Sandpoint maintains its fine reputation as an all-inclusive rather than exclusive community.
Time will tell, I guess.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Of Troughs and Tractors
I noted yesterday that I didn't mind hauling bucket after bucket of warm water outside to thaw the "frost-free" hydrant which serves the horses' water trough. Yesterday, it refused to liberate itself of frost, so the tank went unfilled.
The horse trough did have plenty of water, but my urgency in keeping it filled deals more with the floating heater inside the tank than thirsty horses. They rather like things that float in the trough and particularly enjoy locking on to these items with their teeth and flinging them about the barnyard. So, my strategy is to keep that water level with the top to deter my playful friends from any temptations.
I didn't worry too much yesterday because of a forecast which promised warmer temperatures and lots of snow. The promise was kept. This morning we're looking at about three inches of white stuff. Still had to spend more time than usual thawing the stand-pipe, but it finally spit out a healthy stream of cold water.
This snow signifies a fun day ahead for Bill. He's had the old Ford 9 N tractor parked just off the driveway near the spruce trees, waiting for its next plowing job. Well, if it hasn't been too cold, he'll get it started and plow to his heart's content. As stated before, men love their tractors, so the snow gods have made a happy man at the Love house.
Happy Sunday from North Idaho's winter wonderland. I envision a little snow shoeing today.
The horse trough did have plenty of water, but my urgency in keeping it filled deals more with the floating heater inside the tank than thirsty horses. They rather like things that float in the trough and particularly enjoy locking on to these items with their teeth and flinging them about the barnyard. So, my strategy is to keep that water level with the top to deter my playful friends from any temptations.
I didn't worry too much yesterday because of a forecast which promised warmer temperatures and lots of snow. The promise was kept. This morning we're looking at about three inches of white stuff. Still had to spend more time than usual thawing the stand-pipe, but it finally spit out a healthy stream of cold water.
This snow signifies a fun day ahead for Bill. He's had the old Ford 9 N tractor parked just off the driveway near the spruce trees, waiting for its next plowing job. Well, if it hasn't been too cold, he'll get it started and plow to his heart's content. As stated before, men love their tractors, so the snow gods have made a happy man at the Love house.
Happy Sunday from North Idaho's winter wonderland. I envision a little snow shoeing today.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Minus 10
As Jack London wrote in his classic story "To Build a Fire," it sure is cold. Bill reported minus 10 degrees this morning at 5:30. I enjoy these wintry days, though, as long as that wood keeps burning in the stove and the house remains warm.
I even relish the three or four trips to the barn, armed with a bucket of warm water to thaw the "frost-free" hydrant which supplies the horses' trough.
I'll take this any day over those where plus 30 temperature but dank cold pierces my bones to the core.
While walking out the driveway to get the papers, I squeaked along on crunchy snow and gazed upward at our heavenly universe, a deep blue overhead blanket dotted with millions of tiny white stars.
Even in the darkness, the mountains appearing newly washed and so clean, reminded me of those glass-encased wintry scenes where you turn 'em upside down and watch the white particles fall to the surface.
All so beautiful, so pure, so cold.
I even relish the three or four trips to the barn, armed with a bucket of warm water to thaw the "frost-free" hydrant which supplies the horses' trough.
I'll take this any day over those where plus 30 temperature but dank cold pierces my bones to the core.
While walking out the driveway to get the papers, I squeaked along on crunchy snow and gazed upward at our heavenly universe, a deep blue overhead blanket dotted with millions of tiny white stars.
Even in the darkness, the mountains appearing newly washed and so clean, reminded me of those glass-encased wintry scenes where you turn 'em upside down and watch the white particles fall to the surface.
All so beautiful, so pure, so cold.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Mother/Mom's Fudge
Half of our half dozen call her Mother; the other half call her Mom. That's what happens when there's a generation span between the oldest and youngest. Big brother Mike will turn 61 this year, while little brother Jim is headed toward 42. Batch One includes Mike, Kevin and Marianne. Barbara, Laurie and Jim make up Batch Two.
That means our little mother/mom is old (83), but only chronologically. She still makes the best fudge in the area, with the exception of that lady at Yoke's who specializes in winning the Winter Carnival Fudge-o-Rama every year. I think she whips up several varieties to increase her chances. Our mother/mom enters just one.
Mother/Mom took third place two years ago, and she's hoping to finish in the top round this year after adding pecans and almonds to the mix. She's won first place among our family members for as long as I can remember.
Yesterday while taking her a check from Seventh Heaven in the Bonner Mall, where she still successfully markets her beautiful Western artwork, I arrived just in time for her to be cutting the fudge. Most was destined for a box, destined for the big annual contest at Foster's Crossing tomorrow.
She wanted to make sure her entry was all prepared and ready to go because today will be spent getting better acquainted with her youngest great-grandchild, Miss Aggie Sue Brown from Anchorage, who joined the clan on Sept. 9. Aggie and her parents, Scott and JJ, will spend the afternoon at Mother/Mom's.
Besides its competitive nature, the local Fudge-o-Rama helps support the Panhandle Animal Shelter. Fudge lovers can select three pieces from dozens of entries for a dollar. So, if any readers head for Sandpoint, be sure to drop by Foster's on Saturday.
While Mother/Mom carefully cut small squares of her chocolate delights to put in the contest box, she assured me there'd be extras. Keeping my diet in mind, I remained strong and patient as I watched her carefully force that long knive into the big chocolate block and chop off another row. Finally, she said, "Have one."
The almonds and pecans have definitely added the frosting to the fudge, which is as scrumptious as ever. I limited myself to two pieces and left the house, knowing if I stayed longer my diet discipline would weaken.
Mother/Mom's fudge reminds me of decades ago during the Pre-Batch Two Era. After dinner on cold winter nights, we'd sit in the living room---Harold in his easy chair, Mother/Mom at the west end of the couch, my brothers and I squashed along its remainder---watching "Cheyenne" or "Gunsmoke."
At commercial break, Mother/Mom would ask, "Who wants some fudge?"
As if, we'd ever answer, "Not I."
She'd go to the refrigerator, bring out the chocolate block wrapped in aluminum foil, cut enough chunks for everyone to have two pieces. The plate was passed. Our palettes existed in temporary ecstasy as we slowly bit off small portions to make that chocolate delight last as we watched the rest of the program.
Those were deliciously good times.
That means our little mother/mom is old (83), but only chronologically. She still makes the best fudge in the area, with the exception of that lady at Yoke's who specializes in winning the Winter Carnival Fudge-o-Rama every year. I think she whips up several varieties to increase her chances. Our mother/mom enters just one.
Mother/Mom took third place two years ago, and she's hoping to finish in the top round this year after adding pecans and almonds to the mix. She's won first place among our family members for as long as I can remember.
Yesterday while taking her a check from Seventh Heaven in the Bonner Mall, where she still successfully markets her beautiful Western artwork, I arrived just in time for her to be cutting the fudge. Most was destined for a box, destined for the big annual contest at Foster's Crossing tomorrow.
She wanted to make sure her entry was all prepared and ready to go because today will be spent getting better acquainted with her youngest great-grandchild, Miss Aggie Sue Brown from Anchorage, who joined the clan on Sept. 9. Aggie and her parents, Scott and JJ, will spend the afternoon at Mother/Mom's.
Besides its competitive nature, the local Fudge-o-Rama helps support the Panhandle Animal Shelter. Fudge lovers can select three pieces from dozens of entries for a dollar. So, if any readers head for Sandpoint, be sure to drop by Foster's on Saturday.
While Mother/Mom carefully cut small squares of her chocolate delights to put in the contest box, she assured me there'd be extras. Keeping my diet in mind, I remained strong and patient as I watched her carefully force that long knive into the big chocolate block and chop off another row. Finally, she said, "Have one."
The almonds and pecans have definitely added the frosting to the fudge, which is as scrumptious as ever. I limited myself to two pieces and left the house, knowing if I stayed longer my diet discipline would weaken.
Mother/Mom's fudge reminds me of decades ago during the Pre-Batch Two Era. After dinner on cold winter nights, we'd sit in the living room---Harold in his easy chair, Mother/Mom at the west end of the couch, my brothers and I squashed along its remainder---watching "Cheyenne" or "Gunsmoke."
At commercial break, Mother/Mom would ask, "Who wants some fudge?"
As if, we'd ever answer, "Not I."
She'd go to the refrigerator, bring out the chocolate block wrapped in aluminum foil, cut enough chunks for everyone to have two pieces. The plate was passed. Our palettes existed in temporary ecstasy as we slowly bit off small portions to make that chocolate delight last as we watched the rest of the program.
Those were deliciously good times.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Time to Wade, folks!
The first edition is posted online. Trish Gannon and her The River Journal (TRJ) newspaper have started a new era.
This morning, readers can go to http://www.riverjournal.com/ and read the columns and stories. Definitely worth wading through, as the paper's motto states.
You can even read about The River Journal's history and its founder, Dennis Nicholls. Dennis is the author of the mighty impressive books about the Cabinet and Selkirk hiking trails. Check at www.sandpointonline.com for more info. on his books.
Speaking of TRJ, I'd better get my column completed for the next edition. Due Saturday.
Am also working on a great assignment (due tomorrow) for the Appaloosa Journal (www.appaloosa.com) about aWork to Ride program (http://www.worktoride.net) at a stable in West Philadelphia.
Lezlie Hiner started it back in the early '90s for at-risk youth. The idea is to pair up kids with horses. Barn chores are involved as is the requirement to maintain a C average in school. Participants learn basic horsemanship and then have the opportunity to go whatever direction they choose with their horses.
Polo has reigned supreme at the facility, and Lezlie's proud to have started the first African-American polo team competing under the Work to Ride name. Her program has been so successful it was featured on HBO Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel. The segment was nominated for an Emmy in 2003.
I've seen the segment, and can tell you Lezlie is an amazing woman. Most of the kids consider her their second mother.
Better get to work and write my stories. Have a great Thursday from the Love house.
This morning, readers can go to http://www.riverjournal.com/ and read the columns and stories. Definitely worth wading through, as the paper's motto states.
You can even read about The River Journal's history and its founder, Dennis Nicholls. Dennis is the author of the mighty impressive books about the Cabinet and Selkirk hiking trails. Check at www.sandpointonline.com for more info. on his books.
Speaking of TRJ, I'd better get my column completed for the next edition. Due Saturday.
Am also working on a great assignment (due tomorrow) for the Appaloosa Journal (www.appaloosa.com) about aWork to Ride program (http://www.worktoride.net) at a stable in West Philadelphia.
Lezlie Hiner started it back in the early '90s for at-risk youth. The idea is to pair up kids with horses. Barn chores are involved as is the requirement to maintain a C average in school. Participants learn basic horsemanship and then have the opportunity to go whatever direction they choose with their horses.
Polo has reigned supreme at the facility, and Lezlie's proud to have started the first African-American polo team competing under the Work to Ride name. Her program has been so successful it was featured on HBO Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel. The segment was nominated for an Emmy in 2003.
I've seen the segment, and can tell you Lezlie is an amazing woman. Most of the kids consider her their second mother.
Better get to work and write my stories. Have a great Thursday from the Love house.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
The New News
It's now available------at a local paper near you. It's called the "new news." I call this information " new news" because I learned in this morning's Daily Bee (www.bonnercountydailybee.com) that a copy in mint condition of Sandpoint Magazine's 2005 winter edition sold for a whopping $26.50 on EBay.
The copy sold for that price because it includes my interview with Viggo Mortensen (www.mariannelove.com). Readers were encouraged to keep their copies because of this astounding increase over the normal $3 price.This information appeared in publisher David Keyes' weekly column.
It followed a litany of facts and figures about newspaper circulation and readership. David had just returned from a newspaper convention where he learned that readers have come to trust their local newspaper.
He was quick to point out that the Spokesman-Review (www.spokesmanreview.com) had lost more than 20 percent of its readership in Bonner County during the past year while the Bonner County Daily Bee's circulation continues to rise. He also learned from an unnamed source that the overall circulation for the Spokesman has decreased this past year.
I had just one problem with David's column---it's nearly two months late and a few dollars short. His "new news" in this morning's column about the Sandpoint Magazine EBay sale does pale a bit in comparison to some old news that went out to online readers more than a month ago. Now, I know that's not a big thing, but in this case I kinda take it personally.
If David had checked around town and read the Sandpoint Online Towncrier (www.sandpointonline.com) which reaches a wide circulation each week, he could have informed his trusting local readers that a copy of the Sandpoint Magazine with my Viggo interview sold for $202.50 on EBay. That occurred back in November. The seller lived in Hawaii and set an initial price of $6.99.
Now, I know from reading his past columns that David doesn't always get his Viggo facts correct anyway.
Last summer, he informed readers that Viggo would be showing up for the Long Bridge Swim in August.
A column or two later, he kinda reneged on that claim, stating that the earlier report of Viggo's supposed appearance came from someone's website. He also provided some additional observations about the actor and reasons he definitely wouldn't participate in the swim. These "facts" were gleaned from "a friend of one of Viggo's relatives."
I won't bore you with or honor the information imparted because it was hardly something Viggo or any of his family members would appreciate. Later, I did talk to a family member (Viggo's sibling, in fact) who was incensed with the insinuations printed in the Bee column. He also informed me that he had no idea of any family member who would have ever tell a friend who would have told David any such facts.
Anyway, I guess this reveals why an ever-growing number of readers here trust their local paper, which provides them with more titillating information with its "new news." Maybe the Spokesman, with its recent circulation decrease, ought to give this novel journalistic approach a try. David could help. So could Dan Rather.
The copy sold for that price because it includes my interview with Viggo Mortensen (www.mariannelove.com). Readers were encouraged to keep their copies because of this astounding increase over the normal $3 price.This information appeared in publisher David Keyes' weekly column.
It followed a litany of facts and figures about newspaper circulation and readership. David had just returned from a newspaper convention where he learned that readers have come to trust their local newspaper.
He was quick to point out that the Spokesman-Review (www.spokesmanreview.com) had lost more than 20 percent of its readership in Bonner County during the past year while the Bonner County Daily Bee's circulation continues to rise. He also learned from an unnamed source that the overall circulation for the Spokesman has decreased this past year.
I had just one problem with David's column---it's nearly two months late and a few dollars short. His "new news" in this morning's column about the Sandpoint Magazine EBay sale does pale a bit in comparison to some old news that went out to online readers more than a month ago. Now, I know that's not a big thing, but in this case I kinda take it personally.
If David had checked around town and read the Sandpoint Online Towncrier (www.sandpointonline.com) which reaches a wide circulation each week, he could have informed his trusting local readers that a copy of the Sandpoint Magazine with my Viggo interview sold for $202.50 on EBay. That occurred back in November. The seller lived in Hawaii and set an initial price of $6.99.
Now, I know from reading his past columns that David doesn't always get his Viggo facts correct anyway.
Last summer, he informed readers that Viggo would be showing up for the Long Bridge Swim in August.
A column or two later, he kinda reneged on that claim, stating that the earlier report of Viggo's supposed appearance came from someone's website. He also provided some additional observations about the actor and reasons he definitely wouldn't participate in the swim. These "facts" were gleaned from "a friend of one of Viggo's relatives."
I won't bore you with or honor the information imparted because it was hardly something Viggo or any of his family members would appreciate. Later, I did talk to a family member (Viggo's sibling, in fact) who was incensed with the insinuations printed in the Bee column. He also informed me that he had no idea of any family member who would have ever tell a friend who would have told David any such facts.
Anyway, I guess this reveals why an ever-growing number of readers here trust their local paper, which provides them with more titillating information with its "new news." Maybe the Spokesman, with its recent circulation decrease, ought to give this novel journalistic approach a try. David could help. So could Dan Rather.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Something's Lost and Has been Found
Horizon Airlines "Lost and Found" department has an awesome staff. Thanks to them, I now have my lost purple coat. The mystery was solved yesterday morning when I received a call from Bernie in Boise, announcing, "Marianne, we have your coat."
And the best news was that it had been sent directly to Boise right next to the airport after someone found it in the luggage compartment for my flight to Seattle. I learned from the staff yesterday that all lost items from Horizon's flights go to the Boise center. They've had rounded up more than 900 in the past year. So, that made me feel better, knowing a few other dingle-fritzes leave stuff on planes only to discover their oversights later.
The crew there told me about a recent find involving an old, beat-up cell phone that had fallen down between the seats on one flight. The lady who lost it didn't care so much about the phone as she did her dad's message on its voicemail. It was his last telephone message to her before he died a few days ago.
In another case, they'd held a lost ring for about a year. Finally, an elderly lady claimed it, saying she'd taken it off and put it in her lap while taking a nap on a flight. It slipped to the floor while she slept. She was very happy to see the ring a year later because she'd worn it for 60 years. Her husband, who had since died, gave it to her.
Retrieving my coat was not nearly as poignant, but I was ecstatic, nonetheless. I'll probably write a letter to the Horizon vice president to let him know how appreciated their service is.
The awards luncheon at Boise's Doubletree was poignant, as Sue Self Scully tearfully thanked her family for their support and then introduced me, saying there's always someone who inspires us to go into education. To say the moment was satisfying is an understatement. Afterward, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Dr. Marilyn Howard (a very nice lady, indeed) came over to my table and shook my hand. A great trip and a great day.
Now that I'm safely back home, I'll be burning the midnight oil, completing two assignment deadlines this week and two more within the next two weeks. No rest for wicked freelancers----ever!
And the best news was that it had been sent directly to Boise right next to the airport after someone found it in the luggage compartment for my flight to Seattle. I learned from the staff yesterday that all lost items from Horizon's flights go to the Boise center. They've had rounded up more than 900 in the past year. So, that made me feel better, knowing a few other dingle-fritzes leave stuff on planes only to discover their oversights later.
The crew there told me about a recent find involving an old, beat-up cell phone that had fallen down between the seats on one flight. The lady who lost it didn't care so much about the phone as she did her dad's message on its voicemail. It was his last telephone message to her before he died a few days ago.
In another case, they'd held a lost ring for about a year. Finally, an elderly lady claimed it, saying she'd taken it off and put it in her lap while taking a nap on a flight. It slipped to the floor while she slept. She was very happy to see the ring a year later because she'd worn it for 60 years. Her husband, who had since died, gave it to her.
Retrieving my coat was not nearly as poignant, but I was ecstatic, nonetheless. I'll probably write a letter to the Horizon vice president to let him know how appreciated their service is.
The awards luncheon at Boise's Doubletree was poignant, as Sue Self Scully tearfully thanked her family for their support and then introduced me, saying there's always someone who inspires us to go into education. To say the moment was satisfying is an understatement. Afterward, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Dr. Marilyn Howard (a very nice lady, indeed) came over to my table and shook my hand. A great trip and a great day.
Now that I'm safely back home, I'll be burning the midnight oil, completing two assignment deadlines this week and two more within the next two weeks. No rest for wicked freelancers----ever!
Monday, January 10, 2005
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!!
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!!
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Done
Let it be know that as of 6:16 a.m., Jan. 9, 2005, the raw manuscript for my third book Lessons with Love is complete except for the guest story by William E. Love III.
At this point, 285 pages of memories from a 33-year career at Sandpoint High School are ready for polish. Definitely a great feeling!
Am off to Boise today if I can get out of the driveway.
Happy Sunday.
At this point, 285 pages of memories from a 33-year career at Sandpoint High School are ready for polish. Definitely a great feeling!
Am off to Boise today if I can get out of the driveway.
Happy Sunday.
Friday, January 07, 2005
Let it snow . . . .
The broom will come in handy today. For the first time this year, we have substantial, sticky snow. I went out to get the papers www.spokesmanreview.com and bonnercountydailybee.com and came back with powdered-sugary white fuzz clinging from my calves down.
Our driveway runs east-west, and the snow is blowing from the north, so we already have 6-8 inch drifts this morning, and they're growing. Bill, no doubt, is excited with the prospects of "having" to get the old Ford tractor and rear blade out tonight to plow. Men love their tractors, so this will be a great day if the snow holds.
Skiers love their snow. I'm guessing this TGIF will be a great day for them too. They've been severely short-changed this winter. No doubt, a full line of cars with snowboards and skis atop will go blitzing past our driveway later this morning enroute to the new powder at Schweitzer (http://www.schweitzer.com/winter/index.php). I checked out the site, and they've got snowflakes falling as their weather icon. There's a lot more at the site too, including a mountain cam so you can see it for yourself.
The snow may cause a problem for my planned trip to Boise Sunday. I'm flying there to attend a luncheon where one of my former students, Sue Self Scully, will be honored as Idaho's Assistant Administrator of the Year. They told her she could invite someone who had influenced her to become an educator, so she sent me a note about a month ago and extended the invitation.
I heard from her last night. She said the schools are closing across Southeast Idaho because of an anticipated BIG snowstorm. So, she may not be able to make the drive from Pocatello to Boise. I'll know tomorrow whether it's still a go or not.
Debbie and I will leave at midafternoon today bound for Newport so tha she and Willie can head on into Spokane for their flight this evening to Boise. Debbie will begin her final semester at BSU on Monday. By May, they can return to a somewhat normal marriage, since Willie has spent the past year living five days in Sandpoint and weekends in Boise. They've managed their commuter marriage admirably, and we've been thrilled to have Debbie here this past week.
Guess that's it from the Love house. Enjoy the weather wherever you are.
Update, 7:45 a.m. Bill and Willie have headed to work. Willie drives to Newport, where he works at the Newport Miner newspaper (http://www.pendoreillerivervalley.com/). So, he took off a bit early in anticipation of bad roads. The earlier 6-8 inch drifts have grown; now more than a foot in some places. My horses look like white woolly worms with legs.
Winter has definitely blown in. Haven't seen any yellow school buses go by; could be a lot of happy youngsters and teachers with sugar plums or skiing in their dreams.
Our driveway runs east-west, and the snow is blowing from the north, so we already have 6-8 inch drifts this morning, and they're growing. Bill, no doubt, is excited with the prospects of "having" to get the old Ford tractor and rear blade out tonight to plow. Men love their tractors, so this will be a great day if the snow holds.
Skiers love their snow. I'm guessing this TGIF will be a great day for them too. They've been severely short-changed this winter. No doubt, a full line of cars with snowboards and skis atop will go blitzing past our driveway later this morning enroute to the new powder at Schweitzer (http://www.schweitzer.com/winter/index.php). I checked out the site, and they've got snowflakes falling as their weather icon. There's a lot more at the site too, including a mountain cam so you can see it for yourself.
The snow may cause a problem for my planned trip to Boise Sunday. I'm flying there to attend a luncheon where one of my former students, Sue Self Scully, will be honored as Idaho's Assistant Administrator of the Year. They told her she could invite someone who had influenced her to become an educator, so she sent me a note about a month ago and extended the invitation.
I heard from her last night. She said the schools are closing across Southeast Idaho because of an anticipated BIG snowstorm. So, she may not be able to make the drive from Pocatello to Boise. I'll know tomorrow whether it's still a go or not.
Debbie and I will leave at midafternoon today bound for Newport so tha she and Willie can head on into Spokane for their flight this evening to Boise. Debbie will begin her final semester at BSU on Monday. By May, they can return to a somewhat normal marriage, since Willie has spent the past year living five days in Sandpoint and weekends in Boise. They've managed their commuter marriage admirably, and we've been thrilled to have Debbie here this past week.
Guess that's it from the Love house. Enjoy the weather wherever you are.
Update, 7:45 a.m. Bill and Willie have headed to work. Willie drives to Newport, where he works at the Newport Miner newspaper (http://www.pendoreillerivervalley.com/). So, he took off a bit early in anticipation of bad roads. The earlier 6-8 inch drifts have grown; now more than a foot in some places. My horses look like white woolly worms with legs.
Winter has definitely blown in. Haven't seen any yellow school buses go by; could be a lot of happy youngsters and teachers with sugar plums or skiing in their dreams.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Food on the Mind
Two consecutive posts about food. Hmm! I haven't gained any pounds over the holiday season. Have been very careful to keep my "eat it now, don't eat later" regimen functional. BUT, I must speak of the fresh-baked loaves of bread and giant maple bars at Ireland's along HWY 95 near Potlatch.
Ireland's is easily recognizable as the yellow brick boxlike structure alongside the highway just before ya head up the hill for the last leg of the journey to Moscow. The clientele consists of a lot of senior citizens who've, no doubt, spent their lives toiling on the Palouse grain fields or within the farmhouses. Others include the younger crowd of wheat and lentil farmers and motorists who take a break on their journey north or south. Hungry eaters who step into Ireland's will walk away more than satisfied and with money left in their pockets.
Folks who know about Ireland's will tell you about the bread, and they go back for more. We've stopped numerous times to pick up our supply, as we did yesterday. Didn't get there soon enough to grab a couple of the giant maple bars, but we did pack out two loaves of cinnamon pull-apart and two loaves of oatmeal sesame. The Plummer bunch got half while the other half came on to Sandpoint to meet up with the toaster, some Imperial margarine and my homemade huckleberry jam. Yum! Yum!
Ireland's is easily recognizable as the yellow brick boxlike structure alongside the highway just before ya head up the hill for the last leg of the journey to Moscow. The clientele consists of a lot of senior citizens who've, no doubt, spent their lives toiling on the Palouse grain fields or within the farmhouses. Others include the younger crowd of wheat and lentil farmers and motorists who take a break on their journey north or south. Hungry eaters who step into Ireland's will walk away more than satisfied and with money left in their pockets.
Folks who know about Ireland's will tell you about the bread, and they go back for more. We've stopped numerous times to pick up our supply, as we did yesterday. Didn't get there soon enough to grab a couple of the giant maple bars, but we did pack out two loaves of cinnamon pull-apart and two loaves of oatmeal sesame. The Plummer bunch got half while the other half came on to Sandpoint to meet up with the toaster, some Imperial margarine and my homemade huckleberry jam. Yum! Yum!
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Good Soup
We sat at a corner table where warm rays of the January sun kept us toasty warm. Our view from the window was breath-taking----Lake Pend Oreille glistening with a silver sheen. We ate soup--potato-basil--to be exact, complemented with fresh-baked olive bread. Across the room, half a dozen customers who'd already downed their soup gathered near a stage. A tall, lean, gray-haired man stood before them with a clump of papers in his hand. He began telling stories about Uther Pendragon, Merlin, bards, and, yes, King Arthur. We couldn't catch all of his lecture, but apparently, this was a talk aimed at providing background for an upcoming television movie.
We continued enjoying our soup and gazing at the magnificent scene out our window. My mother, my daughter-in-law, Debbie, and I had drove to Hope yesterday to try the soup at the Lakeside Coffee Shop, formerly the Hi Hopes Market. The soup gave us a homemade, heavenly experience. It was definitely worth recommending, as was the atmosphere where elegant works of sculptured art reside in a room off from the eating area and where you must walk past a warm stove, through a hallway and finally find the bathroom adorned with posters of area literary events.
We left, glad that we came, walked over to the Hope Post Office and met June, the postmaster. People don't travel to Hope without taking a spin around the Sam Owen Peninsula to say hello to the deer, so that topped off our day.
Today, the Jimmy will have a new assignment---take us to Moscow. Have a good Wednesday everyone.
We continued enjoying our soup and gazing at the magnificent scene out our window. My mother, my daughter-in-law, Debbie, and I had drove to Hope yesterday to try the soup at the Lakeside Coffee Shop, formerly the Hi Hopes Market. The soup gave us a homemade, heavenly experience. It was definitely worth recommending, as was the atmosphere where elegant works of sculptured art reside in a room off from the eating area and where you must walk past a warm stove, through a hallway and finally find the bathroom adorned with posters of area literary events.
We left, glad that we came, walked over to the Hope Post Office and met June, the postmaster. People don't travel to Hope without taking a spin around the Sam Owen Peninsula to say hello to the deer, so that topped off our day.
Today, the Jimmy will have a new assignment---take us to Moscow. Have a good Wednesday everyone.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
New Year; New Ambition
It's nice to be back. Actually, I didn't go anywhere; in fact, I was home more than usual. The Christmas crud and head cold thereafter kept my world fairly limited for several days. The cold has disappeared with 2004, and January, on my brand-new Appaloosa calendar, is already starting to fill up with notations of deadlines, speaking engagements, and trips.
I'm headed to Moscow Wednesday for a good-bye luncheon honoring Robin Hendrickson, the Appaloosa Journal editor for seven years. She's chosen to be a full-time mom since her first child and daughter was born in December. Next weekend I'll fly to Boise to watch one of my former students, Sue Self Scully, accept the Idaho Assistant School Adminstrator of the Year award. I worked with Sue for three years in the 1970s and encouraged her to go into education.
Amidst all January hoopla, we're also dealing with the unknown---where will we be living this summer? That question will be answered when another unknown becomes reality---if and when Quest Aviation will definitely purchase our property and for how much. All are closely related. We've looked at a couple of places in desirable locations----one north of town by about eight miles, one east of town by about eight miles. In one case, we'd move today if we could manage to buy it because it's an ideal set-up for people, dogs, horses and even company. Time will tell.
In the news: my older brother begins a new consulting job in North Carolina tomorrow. He''ll be flying coast to coast every week.
Readers will note that December 31 finally arrived, thus causing my younger brother to fall behind on his cartoons, so he needs to get back in gear.
Pumpkin is happy in Plummer. It's reported that he knows how to escape the grips of young Jacob and hide in the laundry room.
Several family members---Laura, Barbara, Joyce and Tanner---turned to a new age in the past week or so.
Young Miss Aggie Sue Brown will take her second plane ride from Alaska since her birth Sept. 9. She and her proud parents will appear at the Rathdrum Lutheran Church this next weekend for a christening.
Debbie will stay in Sandpoint with Willie this week before beginning her final semester at BSU with that one class, Japanese studies.
Bill has already gone geocaching in 2005; for those wondering about geocaching, go to the site at www.geocaching.com. He's very proud that his enthusiasm has garnered some new junkies to the sport.
The second issue of the Sandpoint Reader, edited by Zach Hagadone and Chris DeCleur, has hit the streets. Speaking of news, that's enough for now.
Happy New Year to all. And with this comes the promise of more regularity with postings. We'll see how long that good intention lasts.
I'm headed to Moscow Wednesday for a good-bye luncheon honoring Robin Hendrickson, the Appaloosa Journal editor for seven years. She's chosen to be a full-time mom since her first child and daughter was born in December. Next weekend I'll fly to Boise to watch one of my former students, Sue Self Scully, accept the Idaho Assistant School Adminstrator of the Year award. I worked with Sue for three years in the 1970s and encouraged her to go into education.
Amidst all January hoopla, we're also dealing with the unknown---where will we be living this summer? That question will be answered when another unknown becomes reality---if and when Quest Aviation will definitely purchase our property and for how much. All are closely related. We've looked at a couple of places in desirable locations----one north of town by about eight miles, one east of town by about eight miles. In one case, we'd move today if we could manage to buy it because it's an ideal set-up for people, dogs, horses and even company. Time will tell.
In the news: my older brother begins a new consulting job in North Carolina tomorrow. He''ll be flying coast to coast every week.
Readers will note that December 31 finally arrived, thus causing my younger brother to fall behind on his cartoons, so he needs to get back in gear.
Pumpkin is happy in Plummer. It's reported that he knows how to escape the grips of young Jacob and hide in the laundry room.
Several family members---Laura, Barbara, Joyce and Tanner---turned to a new age in the past week or so.
Young Miss Aggie Sue Brown will take her second plane ride from Alaska since her birth Sept. 9. She and her proud parents will appear at the Rathdrum Lutheran Church this next weekend for a christening.
Debbie will stay in Sandpoint with Willie this week before beginning her final semester at BSU with that one class, Japanese studies.
Bill has already gone geocaching in 2005; for those wondering about geocaching, go to the site at www.geocaching.com. He's very proud that his enthusiasm has garnered some new junkies to the sport.
The second issue of the Sandpoint Reader, edited by Zach Hagadone and Chris DeCleur, has hit the streets. Speaking of news, that's enough for now.
Happy New Year to all. And with this comes the promise of more regularity with postings. We'll see how long that good intention lasts.
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