Saturday, January 10, 2015
Saturday Slightly Reminiscent
I did a little time travel yesterday. Actually, I do a lot of time travel, but yesterday's brief trips were particularly poignant and pleasant.
If you want to embark on trips to the past, go to a funeral in your home town. Lucille Holt, mother to Gene, Chuck, Ray and Jim and much-loved teacher was laid to rest yesterday.
Lucille's memorial service brought out clear reminders of how a lifetime of gracious hospitality can leave both a fond impression and universal appreciation. Whether it was a weekly Bible study she hosted or a dinner at her home with extras sitting at the table, Lucille always made sure that food was in abundance.
The service also brought out a roomful of Sandpoint long timers. I knew everyone sitting in my back pew at the funeral home and most of the folks in the row ahead of me.
Two ladies named Schoonover, a Kootenai Carter, the Eskridges, an Albertson, and a Hunt who used to be a Miller sat in the back two rows.
I could go on with all the recognizable local names, including some folks who had moved away and had traveled to Sandpoint for the service.
In one case, I spotted a gentleman I hadn't seen in a number of years. 'Cept for the walker he was pushing, I'd say Bob Nesbitt has aged very well.
It took but one comment for him to know right off who I was when I walked up to greet him.
"That horned cow is outside if you want to see her," I quipped.
Immediately, Bob reacted, with notable familiarity. You see Bob was the one of the local leaders who always gave me a rough time about my Herefords with horns every year when I'd take them to the county fair for 4-H. That was more than 50 years ago.
"You still full of bull?" he asked me.
"No, I'm still full of cow," I said.
Years after accosting me and my horned cows, Bob turned nice on me. Bill had moved to Sandpoint and was living at Sagle where Bob delivered mail. Bob liked Bill, and after we married, seeing no horned cows in our yard, he must have decided I was all right too.
Heck, he even gave us some raspberry bushes which grew at our Great Northern farm.
Twas neat to see Bob and all the others who, in their individual ways, have created part of our closeknit hometown tapestry.
Another fun trip to the past occurred later in the day when I discovered that Jerry Jeppson had, indeed, accepted my Facebook friend request.
The 50th-year class reunion sat on hold over the holidays, so I returned to the job of tracking down classmates the day before yesterday.
Do you know how easy it is to track down "Bob Anderson"?
Even Elmer Fudd would be less challenging to find. Between all the Bob Anderson's in existence and this high-tech world, filled with people whose numbers used to be just an "information please" call away, people finding has turned into a big time money maker.
After Wednesday's hours of going in circles, finding people whose addresses are not quite the same ten years ago but who still have some of the same relatives is nothing short of a circuitous and frustrating venture.
From my online research, I know how many times some of my classmates have moved over the years, but just when I'd get it all narrowed down to the last place they landed, NO TELEPHONE number listed UNLESS you want to pay $29.95 for more information like their prison record, their lawsuits, their educational pursuits, etc.
I don't want any of that information, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna pay almost $30 for one lousy telephone number.
So, lots of blind alleys for me during Wednesday's tracking attempts---EXCEPT Jerry Jeppson, whom I do not believe I've seen since we attended the University of Idaho in the mid-1960s.
Jerry Jeppson, as I recall, was pretty brainy, so I figured he'd probably gone on to be an engineer or surely something of the genius nature.
Well, turns out that things fell into place for me in my search for the right Jerry Jeppson.
Turns out he's on Facebook and when I saw that there's a Jerry Jeppson on Facebook in the same town where our Sandpoint Jerry Jeppson was listed ten years ago and that he attended the University of Idaho, I figured I'd found paydirt.
To make sure, however, I summoned another Facebook friend who happened to be one of Jerry's FB friends.
I sent her a note and asked her if Jerry was, by any chance, old like me. She said she'd have to go look. That caught me off guard.
Was she gonna drive down the road in rural Wyoming to see if Jerry looked old like me?
Turns out she's never met Jerry Jeppson, only through Facebook because of their common interest in horses.
Then, she sent me a photo, kinda dark, but clear enough to see that, yes, that was the same Jerry Jeppson I knew nearly a hundred years ago.
What's brainy Jerry Jeppson doing?
Well, he lives on the Wind River Indian Reservation where he raises Quarter Horses. I read that he has 100 horses and is known as an expert with the Quarter Horse bloodlines. Most of his horses are blue or red roans from the Hancock line.
He's been an outfitter in Challis and Jackson Hole, has flown planes in the Middle Fork of the Salmon River and has climbed mountains in Peru.
Since yesterday, we've exchanged, via Facebook message, lots of good memories---our ninth-grade Honor Society trip to Spokane.
I did not have to do a lot of driving yesterday to take my wonderful trips down memory lane, but they're still just as rich and just as fond.
That is definitely one of the advantages of getting older. Our memory banks are well-stocked and it doesn't take much effort to make a withdrawal.
Big weekend of athletic events, especially today. Why does the ZAGS game have to coincide with the Seahawks game anywho? Lots of action with the remote tonight, and that will be after we go watch Swiss Miss's game at the high school.
Go Bulldogs. Go ZAGS. Go Seahawks.