Monday Nostalgia

Seems the weekend had a good share of nostalgia. On Saturday, I saw dozens of faces I hadn't seen in ages as friends and family of Ron Hunt gathered at Memorial Field to reflect on Ron and his contributions to humanity.  

Voices choked while reading some of the stories and the crowd laughed through many of the tales told, especially those by Bill Barlow, a former coach and son of legendary Sandpoint football coach Cotton Barlow.

I couldn't help but notice that Bill's getting to look a lot like his dad, but he lacks that warm Southern drawl that so characterized Cotton when he moved to Sandpoint from Tennessee.  

Instead, Bill's speaking voice is forceful with clear enunciation.  The timing that goes along with his story telling is impeccable.  

Bill, also a former Sandpoint High football coach,  had the crowd almost rolling in the aisles while recounting a story of his and Ron's close encounter with "death by diehard local fans" after refereeing a basketball game between Worley and Plummer years ago.

Seems Bill was a stand-in referee  at the last moment, and, once the game had ended, Ron took the lead in directing Bill on where to go and how to get there after a last-minute shot after a questionable no-call in a razor-thin game point differential set off the crowd.

Referees that night escaped the gym and then headed to the library to change their clothes only to see angry fans pointing strategic fingers through the windows.  State cops also played a crucial part in their escape.

Who knows how much embellishment there was in Bill's story, but it was a damn fine way to end a great tribute to Ron. And, when the service ended, folks stood up and some of the Cougar faithful sang the words to the WSU fight song.

The best part of Ron's service for virtually everyone there was that at least 90 percent of those in attendance knew each other----a rare moment anymore in Sandpoint. 

I visited with several of them and then headed to my sisters for the wonderful Kentucky Derby. What a story Callifornia Chrome has to go along with his talent!  

This year's run for the Triple Crown ought to be mighty special, especially serving as a shining example that big money doesn't buy everything.  Of course, the irony is that the relatively little money spent on the horse turned into a virtual goldmine for the owners in two minutes Saturday. 

Yesterday the nostalgia continued as I met my sisters and Debbie over at Mother's house. After sitting empty, except for her cat Rowdy and occasional family company, the house will again come to full throttle in June when Willie and Debbie move in.

They'll be renting the house and having much more room than the condo where they've lived for the past four years. 

So, the process of separating items----some for family members, some for an eventual yard sale and some for the Bonner County Transfer station---began yesterday. 

Items of meaning to family members were put in boxes, some were stored in the garage and others await their trip to the dump.  

I did grab the picture above because, in my mind, it's as iconic as any photo I've ever seen related to the childhood of Batch One. This photo is just over 60 years old, as I'm guessing my brother Kevin was maybe 6 and my brother Mike, 8, maybe younger.

I don't know how old Bossy was.  She's the lovely Guernsey in the middle and the subject of some of my stories in my first book Pocket Girdles.   

I'm thinking the bovine to her right was maybe Rhuzhette.  Sounds a little French to me, and since Mother was a French major, she probably put her training to use in naming cows. Don't know what Bossy's calf's name was.

They're standing on the south side of the old barn at the North Boyer farm.  When Mother and Harold were married, Harold would milk Bossy in her stantion on that lower right side of the barn.  

There was a door there and a ramp.  Much manure got flung out the door to one of the main manure piles to the right.  The others were on the north side of the barn.  One of those even served as a nice soft landing spot when a horse dumped Laurie in the barnyard. 

The big portion of the barn, to the left, consisted of the hay mow on the south side and three tie stalls on the north.  A walk way ran between hay mow and the tie stalls.  

Another ran between the hay mow and Bossy's stantion (I think there was room for two milk cows) and along the two box stalls on the east side of the barn.  

As I recall, Mother cats and kittens would use the south end of the walkway in front of Bossy's manger as their homes.  Sometimes they also used the hay mow. 

Lots of good memories in that barn, so it's nice to see that the photo has survived to help revive the stories of way back when, which always satisfy my lifelong appetite for nostalgia. 

Happy Monday.