Writer Paints

“Grandma! Grandma!”

Today is one of those memorable “Moments in History.” Something like the ones they write about in your local newspaper.

On this date:

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In 1876, Lt. Col. Colonel George A Custer and his 7th Cavalry were wiped out by the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians in the Battle of the Little Bighorn in Montana.

Ninety-one years later, in 1967, the Beatles performed and recorded their new song “All You Need is Love” during the closing segment of “Our World,” the first-ever live international telecast which was carried by satellite from 14 countries.

All You Need is Love – Live ’67

In 1973, former White House Counsel John W. Dean began testifying before the Senate Watergate Committee, implicating top administration officials, including President Richard Nixon as well as himself, in the Watergate scandal and cover-up.

In 1986, a deeply personal moment in history, Mom died.

My little boys and I had been in Carson City for a couple of weeks, helping Mom to pack up her stuff for the move to our home in Pennsylvania. On this particular day, I’d taken Howie (5-years old) and Rusty (18-months old) to the library to pick up a couple books on caring for emphysema patients. Mom wasn’t doing well and after several invites to come live with us, she’d finally agreed to do so. My husband Matt was home working as a DJ in the local Titusville radio station.

I returned to Mom’s apartment with the little guys, all excited. Howie rushed out in front of me, happily calling out, “Grandma! Grandma!” and before I could get inside the doorway, he came back to me, a bewidered look on his little face. “Grandma’s in the kitchen – she’s laying on the floor.”

Holding Rusty in my right arm, I reached out with my left to Howie’s to walk around the corner into the kitchen.

Like all of us, Mom had a few habits. One of them was to watch her soaps – General Hospital was one – every weekday afternoon. Each time the first commercial came around, she’d get up to make herself a vodka and 7. I looked at the glass of ice on the counter. The 7-up can was open and abandoned.

I put Rusty down, checked Mom, and trembling, walked with over to the couch where I held the boys tight on my lap. I told them how Grandma Mollie had been really sick and her heart just couldn’t work anymore. I settled them in the other room and began to make phone calls. My voice shook with emotion. I cried. I called her best friend in town. I called 9-1-1. Or was it the Sheriff’s Office? I don’t remember.

I called Mike and Fred. I called Dad in Oregon, and Aunt Marne, and on and on and on. It was a terrible no-good day. I weirdly remember thinking at the time of Jackie Kennedy and how she had to be so strong for her kids, and that I had to do the same. Isn’t that weird?

We all got together in Carson City, we had a service. Fred, Mike, the boys and I took a short drive around Tahoe before we said our goodbyes.

I miss her so much. She’s missed so much. She was only 66. So many milestones in life, in her family, that she missed.

She had a difficult life. She had a good life, much of it a happy life. The kind of life we all have. Good times. Bad times. Sad times. Wonderful times. Momentous times.

Fred reminded my recently, when I was with him in Colorado, that he’d introduced Mom to pot. We were cracking up. When I visited her in ’79, she’d taken out her little stash and whispered to me (there was no one in the room but us), “Fred gave this to me.” Cracked me up. Still cracks me up.

I’ve thought for a long time that I must have raised my own kids right ’cause they bring me weed. Did we start a family tradition and not even know about it?

In the end, she just couldn’t give up those damn cigarettes. Her last months of life revolved around an oxygen tube in her nostrils. She didn’t sleep well, she didn’t eat a lot. She wouldn’t go out for a walk.

She’d periodically leave the O2 tank, the hose laying over the arm of her recliner and go have a smoke. It was a terrible business – the one thing she couldn’t quit.

I feel her presence today, as I do every day. I felt it when I was out in the garden before sitting down to write.

Tonight I’m joining a tour of local houses with a history of ghost inhabitants. She lived in Napa when she was a girl. Maybe she’ll reach out to me!

Tom, Howie, Mom, Rusty, me, Uncle Charles. June 1986

This photo was taken days before she died. We’d taken a road trip to the bay area to say goodbyes before heading off to Pennsylvania.

I love you, Mom. We all do.

We have to get out!?

Remember the walk that Luke, Tommy, Rhett and I took yesterday morning, day 5? Well, lucky for us, Luke has photographic evidence of it! That’s Rhett up there paying attention and me astounded that I’m actually on top of that rounded red rock face.

Tommy, Luke and I caught by paparazzi…aka Rhett

On this, our last day, coffee was hot and the tents came down. We all scrounged for the last of the good breakfast eats (and there was plenty of it). Bags were packed and stacked to be loaded. Soon enough, it was time to move out.

I had my stuff packed up as I’d been trained to do, sitting around while the guys all worked. I sure didn’t want to get in their way! My camera and I kept an eye out for a few more memorable photographic objects, like this little one!

Another you-have-to-remember-this-one was an amazing piece of driftwood – looks like a root to me – that I know Tommy really wanted to take it home. A portion of it looked just like a brain! Whose brain I’m not quite sure.

Luke broke out the best hat (much better than my sacrificed one) of the trip – with hair! He looked just like someone I used to work with in a San Francisco medical clinic…and I was cracking up!

We entered Arches National Park on our way to the Moab take-out beach landing, sailing through our last day on White’s Rapids – woo hoo! I read in the river guidebook that in the late 40’s and early 50’s, John Ford filmed two of his movies, Wagonmaster and Rio Grande right here off the river on White’s Ranch.

Another 20 beautiful miles – loving life – enjoying every minute of it.

fullsizeoutput_cf64 — Tommy in foreground, Fred and I back there a bit!

We had a cool breeze on the river and the sun followed us down river. My lips, for the past few days now, were sunburned and stinging — of all the sunscreen lip balms I had on me — I was using the one with not one drop of SPF! And didn’t realize it until it was too late. Now that was stupid!

When it came time to put out in Moab, the river was not giving much room in the eddy to pull into the pull out ramp. Fred and Tommy were able to row their rigs in all right, but darn if Rhett didn’t miss it, ending up twenty feet downriver on a muddy, weed swollen sandbar.

Rhett and Luke grabbed hold of the boat and pulled it to the ramp where it was supposed to be. We each took turns helping to get the boats onto the trailers, where they were hoisted into place for the drive home. We said our good–byes with handshakes and hugs and Fred and I went our merry way out of the canyon and the drive home with some fine tunes playing on the car radio.

Kudos to all the river trippers – Rhett, Tommy and Luke – and especially to my brother Fred, my real live life saver! Happy Birthday – I love you!I admit I had an empty feeling, being off the river with the trip at an end. Does everyone feel like that when the ride ends? It took me a while to get my bearings.

Thanks for the trip of a lifetime!

Day One – Fred’s Big 7-Oh! Birthday River Trip

And I get to go with him this time! Along with his hand picked fellow rafters and river guides, Rhett, Tommy and Luke. A few other besties were scheduled to join us and had to bow out for other more important things that came along in life. I’m glad that wasn’t me.

fullsizeoutput_cd6f — Pizza and beer for two at Aspen’s Mezzaluna at the end of the build a boat day.

I originally posted much of this material on my Facebook page and decided for continuity’s sake I should write it up as a blog. So if you didn’t see my “6/6/19 – Fred’s Annual Birthday Trip – the Big 7-O!” album you’re in for a treat!

The day before leaving for this big adventure, we spent a few hours – we meaning mostly Fred – building a boat! We worked at Fred’s place right there on the Roaring Fork River. And it was roaring!

I was perfectly capable of lugging stuff to the appropriate pile on the ground near the boat, but Fred’s the only one who could stow it where he wanted. You know how it is. Everything in its proper place, right where it belongs and where it can be found when you want it!

On our appointed day to hit the river, we head out in the pick-up truck to Fruita. Some blue boat and trailer kept following us the intire way. lol. We stop a few places to pick up those last minute supplies – foodstuffs, ice, more beer, more ice and other essentials for the trip. The tequila was safely stowed away.

It wouldn’t last long.

The river is “high water” now, approximately 34,000 cubic feet per second, and not to be taken lightly. Between Fred and his boat-mates, they figured they have about 140 years of experience on the water; I was completly relaxed and confident that all was well. And it was.

Our journey started in Ruby Horsethief Canyon, eventually moving into Westwater and Skull Rapid – now that was a day! More on that later…

We put in at the ramp in Fruita at RimRock Adventures. Each boatman had his own way of doing things, each put-in was a bit different. I got to meet our fellow adventurers – Luke and Rhett, and was reacquainted with Tommy Myers whom I’d met on an earlier trip to the Colorado River to boat with my brother.

In between the time that Tommy, Fred and Rhett pulled in to the ramp, backing their trailers to the river’s edge to get the boats into the water, other guys and their trailers and their people pulled in and I’m sure, innocently enough, messed with our own operation. We were just glad later on, that “those guys” weren’t camping close to where we were! Rhett’s two sisters Cathy and Lisa were on hand to send us off and away we went.

Just down the river aways, I got this first day lucky shot of a great blue heron keeping an eye on us. No matter how much I wanted it, I never did get a shot of one in flight, or of an eagle in flight, either. Each time a great bird flew over us, my damn camera was in it’s case or in some other not-in-my-hand place.

I order a copy of one of Fred’s Guidebooks: River Maps: Guide to the Colorado & Green Rivers in the canyonlands of Utah and Colorado. There is a wealth of information about turn of the river, so to speak. The history of the river’s path, millions of years of geology in the making, the people who came before – I’m loving all of it.

High water was definitly one of the defining factors on our trip. The entire length of the river, low water eddies and campsites were missing or under water – a lot of water and not anything to mess around with. Out of curiosity or need, (I’m not sure which) one or another of the guys would check on his phone or some other electronid device for the cfs (Cubic feet per second) each day we were out. They read the currents and adjust their path through the water based on their many years of experience.

The out of this world – really part of this world – natural landscapes, geological formations grabbed my heart and won’t let go. I can’t read enough about it, my curiosity has the best of me and I’m looking forward to learning more about this neighborhood.

It seems I’m continuously shaking my head, sighing and awestruck with the beauty of it all. It’s a leisurely first day and I try not to miss any of it!

I’m starting to learn the routine now. Doesn’t take long. Open your eyes, Kathy. Put in to a campsite, take it easy for a time – river time – and then grab my gear to get my tent put up and my stuff inside of it.

This first night, the guys enjoy themselves, laughing if you can imagine, as I attempt to put up my borrowed-from-Tommy tent. What?!

“I could watch you all night trying to do that…but no…” Tommy says, he and Fred giggling, “they snap on like this!”

I’m warned not to leave anything outside that a nasty little scorpion – about this big! they say – could crawl into – so I leave nothing outside! Each night, I rifle through my zip locked belongings in the dry bag, removing this shirt or another and packing it all back in the next day. My toke bag, water bottle, head-night-lamp and my glasses are always in a certain left corner of the tent. One pair of glasses “for on the river with that little croakie tied on”, and my fav newly minted glasses I wear on land.

My new sleeping bag and softer-than-soft-socks keep me warm all night long. I never wear the socks outside – I don’t want one bit of sand in at least one thing I’m wearing – my pair of night socks!

We settled our first night in Bull Draw camp after a wonderul first day on the river, five hours and counting. The scenery is such I can’t look away.

Fred is the chef tonight. I find myself thinking of other chefs in my family, starting with Dad’s Dad who was a cook in the Merchant Marines, then Dad, who was a chef himself, and then my oldest son Rob, a trained chef and author.

Menu consisted of salmon patties grilled and loaded with guacamole, sliced sweet onion and tomatoes! Yummmmm. The next day was his breakfast duty – french toast, bacon and fresh fruit. Tasty indeed!

Dinner was over, dishes washed and drying and it was time for some story-telling and tequila! The story-telling on the trip is the best!

I notice Rhett didn’t make the cut in photos today. Either the camera was stowed or he was out doing a fine job of scouting just the right place for the groover.

And yes, I found the groover and it’s a spectacular view! It’s just a short walk from my tent below a canyon wall with no little crawling bugs. Or at least I don’t see any of them.

And then it’s time to call it a night. I’m in early my tent-home and I can just barely hear the laughter and voices of the boatmen in the camp kitchen. Good nite!

Each day of this trip would bring an amazing array of waterscapes, landscapes, changing skies, animal life, flora and fauna, joking, wonderful conversation, peace and joy. By the end of the week, my eyes and lips were fried by the awesomeness of it all!

These days with my brother was an amazing gift and I’ll cherish it always. I’m so happy this adventurous life never gets old.