Years from Elementary to Secondary to Higher Education, and the Metamorphosis from Child to Adult
As mentioned, we added a pop-up camper in 1969 and in 1970 we had the opportunity to purchase a used “folbot” (fold boat) from Bill Colville, a colleague and friend. Made by the same South Carolina company, it was a larger version of the Olson’s boat, 17.5’ long to be exact. In addition to just being a paddle propelled boat, it had a mast, boom and sail. There was an outrigger saddle that went from one side of the boat to the other and was mounted (when needed) just forward of the cockpit from which two rudders (one on each side) dipped down into the water to stabilize the foldboat while under sail. A hole in the middle accommodated the mast and helped keep it in place.
The first year of the new decade (1970) proved to be quite a transition year. First of all, in February Karen reached 16 years of age, and was eligible for her drivers license. This sort of thing always was (and still is, I presume) one of those good news-bad news scenarios. The good news was Mom’s chauffeur duties would hopefully be reduced significantly. The bad news was Dad nervously hoping experience behind the wheel would come quickly. Well with her it did, fortunately. The other semi-driving event was the purchase of a mini-bike by Bruce. It was strictly an off road vehicle, so it was convenient we had so much Company land for him and the other kids to romp. Both Karen and Bruce had a scouting expedition to Eleuthera Island in the Bahamas.
The big family event of the year included a large somewhat circular road trip that included a first night stop in Atlanta to visit Six Flags Over Georgia, and then on to Niagara Falls, the Great Lakes and Ottawa Canada, and back home via Bridgeport CT. With our old Chevy wagon, we pulled the camper behind us and parked it in an Arrowhead CampGround just across the street from the Six Flags main gate. The campgrounds were really nice with good campsites and amenities such as a large swimming pool. After we set up camp with our awning out and everything, Karen asked if she could drive the others down to the pool area. Having full trust in her we agreed. This minor adventure proved to be a teachable moment for her and nearly a heart attack for me. They had not been gone too long before Bruce ran into camp and said something was wrong with the car and it wouldn’t start. Momentary panic on my part since Six Flags was only our first stop. Turns out Karen had parked the car on flat ground and had not placed the gear shift into “Park”. Teachable moment: Cars won’t think of starting while parked in “Drive”. From Six Flags it was on to one more night at a campground in Tennessee, and then on to Bridgeport where we picked up Gram Edwards and proceeded to Niagara Falls, NY, 1,000 Islands in the St. Lawrence River, Ottawa Canada, and back down over lake Champlain, through Vermont and home again, some 5,000 miles and 5 blowouts later. Don’t know how we managed to take so many pictures since Bruce and I spent most of our time setting up, taking down and fixing flats. It was a fun if exhausting trip and we all looked a bit bedraggled when we got home with one exception: Gram Edwards. There she was sitting pert and calm and with every single hair perfectly in place (mine was about gone) (DV-1).
A significant new adventure involved higher education and college hunting. Karen had graduated from high school and we spent some time looking at institutes of higher learning in Florida and Georgia. Now the University of Florida and Georgia we pretty well knew already, but we also visited the University of Central Florida (that Frank Lloyd Wright created in Orlando) and the University of South Florida (Tampa). In Georgia we looked at Berry College (Rome), Valdosta State and Georgia Southern (Statesboro). Even with out of state tuition, the Georgia colleges were more financially manageable, and Karen decided on Georgia Southern. That was an easy commute from Jacksonville. This was the year Bruce (we) earned the coveted Eagle Scout badge. I might add that behind every Eagle Scout badge is a determined mom. He also had the rare opportunity to spend 10 days at the Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron NM. What an experience that must have been. Wish I could have gone also. What a start to a new decade, and we’re just emerginging from year 1. (DV-2)
Early in 1971 we lost another pooch. Pepper was a favorite of Mom’s or rather Mom was a favorite of Peppers’. She was not a large dog, and had a short black coat with some white. Initially she had a nice long tail, but on a trip to Branford, it got slammed by a strong springed front door. Oh what a howl she let out as she raced to the lake to sit in it. You could almost visualize the steam rising. Ultimately that reduced her tail by about 25%. One day arriving home from the store, Karen in tears ran out shouting she murdered Pepper. We looked at each other and wondered what in the world happened. Seems Karen went out the front door and the dog zoomed out between her legs like a shot and right out into the street where she was quickly dispatched by a passing car driven by a very disrought driver, who never had a chance to stop. Rather than the backyard, we took the remains to the vet who would properly dispose of it, and seeing our disrought offered us one of his “foster dogs” as a replacement. The dog was a small dachshund looking dog, with shaggy brown hair. We named her “Gingersnap” and everyone wanted to hold her. Unfortunately, she didn’t really want to be held by any one and it wasn’t long before her ill-disposition became evident, and with thanks but no thanks, we returned her to the vet.
The very next week we responded to and added in the paper and picked up an adorable beagle pup. We named her Mandy, and she would remain with us for 14 more years. Although fiercely independent, Mandy loved us all and always wanted to be where the action was, but she certainly was not a “lap” dog. What she did have was the nose of a beagle. She showed up during a period of time we had a variety of critters around the house (mostly in cages), but once in a while one would escape, like a hamster for example. In this case the hamster was missing for a day or two and we figured it holed up and died, and we were just waiting for the smell to get to us. Well, no way. We brought sluth Mandy into the investigation, and within about 15 minutes, we heard a bark from the kitchen, and from behind the stove emerged the hamster with a little pile of dust on his head. Fortunately we got to it before Mandy did. Over Thanksgiving, all of us including Mandy were going to spend a few days on our property on Little Orange Lake. We had our Apache all packed and ready to go. But wait a minute, where was the dog? We called and looked all over the place. I was about to say “the heck with it, she will last the weekend” (only half kidding), when constant beseeching by Diane convinced me to look in the camper. Sticking my head in the door of the camper, I looked left and came eye to eye with Mandy. Remember, at this point the camper was collapsed and ready to go (except for the door), and the “roof” was about flat on the bunks, but the dog managed to squeeze in that small space. She was simply not going to be left behind. Our neighbors (the Kidds) were watching all this out their bedroom window, and swore to us later it was better than any TV sitcom. We finally coaxed her out and she made a beeline for the open station wagon door (DV-2).
Late in 1971 we bought a new car, a Buick Estate Wagon no less (DV-3). The old Chevy wagon barely made it back from Niagara Falls and it was time. With a nice new car we made the spur of the moment decision to travel to CT for Christmas. Traveling North in the winter was a new experience for all of us, and we had a great time, especially during the Christmas season. We spent time and had Christmas dinner at Mimi and Da’s digs in Easton. While they had been there for some time, they had it on the market. It had become a little much for them to manage so they put themselves on the waiting list for 50-50 Park Ave. a retirement high rise condominium nearby. We also spent at least equal time with Gram Edwards (DV-3). While the early ‘70’s were indeed transitional years into young adulthood and a new beginning. It was a reminder it was also an end to an era. In February, 1972 Gram Edwards passed away. While the end of life is inevitable, it never happens without shock and mourning. Since Joyce’s Dad passed away in 1967, Gram Edwards was an often participant in our activities. It was indeed fortunate that we managed to travel to Connecticut when we did. In fact, that trip was almost fortuitous since in October of the same year, my Dad (“Pop”) died. As sad as all that was, time marches on and activities continue, but on a different level.
At this point in this retrospective, I’ll briefly digress to update the career status during the ‘70’s. In the fall of 1972, after my contacts and discussions with personnel from a major NASA contractor, I learned of the work being done by the Laboratory for Applications of Remote Sensing (LARS) at Purdue University in West Lafayette IN. Since I already had interactions with the Purdue Forestry School, I contacted Dick Mroczynski, one of the school’s faculty members, who was most interested in remote sensing applications. He was involved in the LARS program. He suggested I might want to join a seminar on the subject the same week as the launch of the first Earth Resource Technological Satellite (ERTS) from Vandenberg Air Force base in California. Well of course I did, and fortunately my current (and final) supervisor, Cleatus Turner was also excited by the prospect. A year or so earlier when I was still the Operations Research Forester (a position I was not that well qualified for), Tom (the guy that took my place as Forest Information and Analysis manager) loudly announced that he thought all this talk about digital multispectral data from plane or satellite was just a futuristic pipe dream we need not waste resources on at this point in time. Cleatus didn’t buy that, and asked me what I thought. My thoughts were more positive and the connections we already had gave us a front row seat in this developing technology. I didn’t think we could afford to pass this up and after all, information research was part of our mission. I was thus installed as the Forest Resource Information manager and tasked to follow this remote sensing, multispectral aspect with regards to monitoring our forest resource, both owned and open market. While Tom was still in charge of ground operations (cruising timber, measurement of permanent plots, etc.), all space acquired information by aircraft or satellite was part of my responsibilities. So to be able to observe the launch of ERTS was indeed exciting.
Karen, Bruce and Diane were well ensconced in other activities, so Mom, George and I packed up the camper and took off for W. Lafyette IN early on a Sunday morning. Since the state of KY was on our way, we stopped at Mammoth Caves. This was early September and on a nice fall day. We parked the car and walked down to the entrance to the main cave and were greeted with a blast of cold air that made our teeth just chatter. George (bless his ever lovin’ bones) volunteered to run back to the car to fetch some sweaters for all of us. Away he went and after a period of time we looked back at the parking area to see how he was doing and there he was jumping up and down. Aw man! What now? When we got back to the car: 1. George was standing with all the sweaters in his arms, 2. the car keys were sitting in the middle of the front seat, 3. all 4 doors were locked. Well. George was blessed alright, but not too badly. It has happened to most of us who have keys and a car. But here it was Sunday, and at least 35 miles to the nearest town. Fortune had not left us completely, however. A park ranger seeing some angst in our direction, drove over, got out of his truck with a long metal bar in his hand. He knew instinctively what the problem was. After brief greetings and explanation of our problem, he approached the car and had it open in what I estimate about 20 seconds. Were we ever grateful, I thought Mom was going to hug him. He just said we might be surprised to learn that the main job of park security was unsecuring locked cars. As soon as he saw our distress, he knew exactly what the problem was. George was quiet for a while but not for long when Mom praised him for volunteering to go for the sweaters. The rest of our experiences at the caves were fantastic. By mid afternoon, we were off again to W.Lafayette and the “Hills”.
The “Hills’ ‘ was a staff recreation area with several camp sites located on the bank of the Wabash River. What a great place. Other attendees of the EARTS launch conference brought their families as well. One attendee (Robert Clark) I had met before. He was a Canadian living in the Quebec area. He brought his wife and two kids with him and had a campsite right near us. Robert spoke good un-accented English, but neither wife or kids did (oh maybe a word or two here or there). The boy was real young, but the girl (Michelle), was a vivacious little 12 year old that already knew how to bat her eyes. George was a transitional 11 year old that was beginning to realize there was a significant difference between boy and girl, and Michelle just cast those thoughts in concrete. Although sometimes voice communications are absent (with few exceptions) there are other means of communication, and the two of them had a couple of great days of clean fun George still remembers. I’ll leave any details to him, since I was on the main campus most of the time at the conference. I did have some free time and we were able to take the “folbot” out on the river. Oh boy, the Wabash Cannonball we weren’t. In fact I was quite disappointed in the river and it’s condition. Only body of water I have been in where we had to clean off the hull of the boat when we took it out. Needless to say we didn’t spend too much time on the water (DV-3).
I learned a lot at the conference especially about the acquisition, processing, and distributing data received from the satellite. The attendees included many of the major players (Government) in this new developing technology. John, the guy sitting next to me, was a professor at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. We had a good time together and he suggested if I ever got up his way, please stop in and visit. I also met several people from the US Geological Survey (Department of the Interior), Department of Agriculture and from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). There were several there from industry as well, especially the aeronautical and agricultural, including Lockheed Electronics, Boeing, Northrop, and Cargill (one of the nation’s largest grain producing companies in the world). Most important. I made important connections from the space agency (NASA). Seems that the Saturn Space test facility was looking for new civilian applications. The main objective of the Saturn program was to provide the vehicle to launch a manned space (Apollo) vehicle for the first moon landing as its mission in 1969. Land applications seemed like a good direction to go, so all of a sudden I had gained a lot of friends who were looking for partners with large land holdings to use for technique development. St. Regis was a perfect candidate (they thought). St. Regis, of course, was always looking for good Public Relations (PR) opportunities, and was enthusiastic.
As things (career wise) gained in momentum during the early “70’s, my travel time away from home became greater and things on the homefront was pretty well managed and carried out by Mom. That’s why by 1977 all kids had driver’s licenses. In addition we acquired a nice little Chevy as part of materials distribution from Gram Edwards estate. From my standpoint I was thrust into a different world driven largely by government agencies. That I can assure you is good and bad news all at once. I was first invited to a planning and feasibility meeting at the Lyndon B Johnson Space Flight Center in Clear Lake City TX (southeast of Houston) where I was given a seat of significance at a table of professors and space scientists all holding PhDs. I was a bit overwhelmed when they all looked at me and started to ask questions regarding resource needs of the pulp, paper and other wood products industries. Other trips included Sioux Falls SD which was a major satellite data receiving station. Once again I felt extremely lucky to have the opportunity to sit in on such an auspicious conference. When I showed up, it was the typical conference room with a big table with chairs all around. There were also chairs against the wall for those visiting the session. Naturally I took one of those chairs and was about to take a notepad out of my briefcase, when the conference coordinator from the US Geological Survey stopped by and took my arm, and said, “this is not the chair we planned for you”, and darned if I wasn’t ushered to the head of the table, where pad, paper and glass of water awaited me. While I certainly was not the conference leader, I was surely the main attraction (if they only knew). The attendees were chock full of questions and listened to my every word almost as if I knew what the heck I was talking about. Another meeting that required my attendance was in Monterey CA. There we met with various financial types including a couple from the budgeting and general accounting office, and I learned quickly how antiquated some of the government accounting procedures are. Some dating back to the 19th century without any current review. At least Monterey was a beautiful place. By this time, the “ERTS”satellite was renamed “Landsat 1”.
Working with Dick Mroczynski and the LARS staff for the better part of the decade we produced a three year study proposal on the utility of space derived multispectral imagery in the planning and management of forest and land resources. St. Regis (STR) was named as the Principal Investigator. Oh, were they (NASA) ever excited. They sent me a letter describing specific outcomes to be expected in such a project. It soon became obvious their outcomes were inconsistent with ours. To me it seemed they were looking for a vehicle to promote some of their own projects and ideas (some of their staff were PhD candidates, and I suspected there were some thesis topics couched in their conditions). We were not at all impressed by their demands unless they were in line with what was in the best interest of STR in particular and the forest products industry in general. I called them and said we were sorry but could not proceed under the conditions they set forth, and explained why. It was simply time to take the experiment off the lab table and test the potential capabilities out in the real world environment. The conversation was really quite short. About an hour or so later, I received a call from the NASA project manager where he insisted I misunderstood their intention and of course they would conform to what our needs were. However, he pointed out the government does have some strict guidelines for proposals requiring funding, and they would like to come to Jacksonville where he insisted he was sure we could work something out that would be acceptable to the project office. Fair enough. After consulting with our Purdue technical support group, we agreed on a working meeting in Jacksonville including NASA, LARS and STR. NASA was to supply the funding and project oversight, LARS Purdue the technical support (primarily computer software development) and STR cost effective operational utility of the data in short and long term planning. To accomplish these goals would require a substantial government grant. We will pick up on this a little later in the Retrospective.
All this time I was working closely with Airborne Data Corp., our aerial photogrammetric contractor. Walt McFadden, owner and principal pilot of the company had been our supplier of aerial photo coverage for years. His company was based in Ormond Beach FL (just north of Daytona Beach). Since I was responsible for our aerial photo needs, I spent a fair amount of time with him working out schedules and coverage and over time we became good friends as well as colleagues. At this particular time, he was just finishing up a lawsuit with the US Government. Seems like he invented and installed a trade marked, sophisticated gyro driven navigational stabilization system that assured steady and accurate ground target acquisition. This allowed him to spend some time attending his photographic equipment while the plane maintained course avoiding adding a crew member. Apparently the US Geological Survey was impressed and copied it for their own use without so much as asking for such use. Well, Walt took them to court and won. Last I knew, he had at least 16 yearly income tax audits (cross the Gov. and you’ll pay). At this point in time he had just installed aerial cameras with near infrared capabilities. While satellite data demonstrated green vegetation showed up bright red in the near IR. How about other colors? To find out, I took a couple of guys to a tract of STR land just north of Jacksonville, and by driving stakes into the ground so that about 1’ was above ground, we mounted 8 or 10 full sheets (4’x12’) of plywood painted with a variety of colors. Walt with his infrared camera ensemble flew over the site and took photos of the dazzling sheets of plywood. In a week or so we went to pick up the sheets and relocate them to an area with a wet background to see what impact that would have on photo interpretation. We got out to the site, and every single sheet of plywood was gone. Someone has a very psychedelic looking hunting shack somewhere out there. While we were disappointed, we did learn a lot about the contribution of the near IR in landuse and vegetative change over time.
While the past discussion pretty well covered the career ‘70’s, we need to go back to the mid-‘70’s and see what was happening family-wise. Early in April 1973 while driving around in Gainesville FL (The University of Florida School of Forestry was working closely with us in developing software predicting annual forest growth and future yields.) I noticed a sign that offered property for sale around Little Orange Lake near Hawthorne FL which was about 20 miles from Gainesville. The next weekend Mom and I drove down and sure enough, there was a great piece of property for sale that was an abandoned orange/grapefruit grove. The grove sloped down to the edge of the lake where it had overgrown beach front (water hyacinth mostly) for the entire width of the property. Right on the bank of the lake was a large sweet gum tree providing plenty of shade for summer lounging. How perfect a place, and it was priced within our range. Turns out one of my St. Regis colleagues in Jacksonville had purchased a lot on the lake as well, so we asked him about the seller and his integrity, etc. and he assured us he was for real albeit a small town “tycoon”. That worked for us so we closed the deal. The next question was (of course) “what next”?
Although the parcels of land to either side of our lot were occupied, ours has been basically ignored for years, though I suspect our orange/grapefruit crop was shared by many. The entire area was grossly overgrown and in need of mowing and trimming. It was going to take much more than our little Honda mower and a hand sickle or two. Our eye was on a Yazoo self-propelled mower, but those were large pieces of equipment that would need a trailer to haul. The alternative was a secure (including weather), durable and large enough shed to store the Yazoo, gas cans and other items (chairs, lounges, etc.) that we would be using on a regular basis. While the fold-boat was too big, its accessories were not and they were included in the storage shed inventory. We bought the shed (not shown) which was one of the largest (10×14) a person could reasonably handle by themselves. We decided a concrete floor was in order. We spent at least a day cutting and fitting forms for the floor of the shed so we would be ready for the concrete delivery we had ordered earlier in the week. Well he showed up, backed up and announced he was ready. I jumped in to direct the concrete chute where I thought the concrete should go, so I shouted “let ‘er rip”! He did and I was immediately up to my knees in concrete (can’t but think it was on purpose). Except for the little embarrassment it cost, it wasn’t a big problem. After cleaning up a bit, I was able to screed, float and trowel the floor to a fine finish. The troweling was the most delicate operation where I backed on hands and knees across the floor troweling as I went, with attention to what I was doing. I got all the way across the floor doing a great job when I looked up right into the eyes of Mandy who followed me step by step across the floor, to which she left an indelible impression. The floor could be considered concrete with a canine accent. Our measurements must have been pretty good and the shed fit (a bit tight in places) over the floor and rested on the narrow ledge just a few inches under the top. This should give a level of watertight integrity.
With the shed built, the next step was to purchase the mower. Fortunately in Jacksonville there was a Yazoo dealer who was more than happy to accommodate us. What a piece of machinery that was. The dealer showed us how to use it and what all the leavers did. It was not a riding mower, but it had a 24” cut. I had to borrow a pickup truck from the shop to transport it down to the lake. It took a while to get used to it, especially the “self-propelled lever. As mentioned, the property was well overgrown not only with grasses of various descriptions, but bushes and vines. We wanted to free up our 35 producing citrus trees first so we could get them fertilized and free of unnecessary competition. With the self-propelled lever engaged I stared around a tree with an almost obscured trunk because of the undergrowth. I no sooner got started than a vine caught me under the chin an I briefly let go of the mower which of course kept on going, and I couldn’t follow. I had to run around the blooming tree to catch the mower as it came out the other side. That worked OK, but not without attracting a rollicking crowd to witness the whole thing. After a brief break-in period, we all got the hang of it, and did it ever to a great job. The effect of the fertilizer on the trees was unknown, but the ragweed, dog fennel and goldenrod grew from two feet to 12 feet. Of all things, Mom really took to it and enjoyed charging over the terrain at full speed. That was okay, since the rest of us could do other trimming work. The one downside was the oranges that had fallen to the ground and had dried to a hard irregular roundish shape with a size ranging from golf to tennis balls. Every time she ran over one, it would shoot out as a missile with a range up to 20’ or so, and if you happen to be within that impact zone, you might very well sustain a painful sting on the lower leg if hit. Everyone learned quickly to stay clear of the Mom when she was on “mower” duty (DV-4).
For about 10 years we held on to the property looking to the future for further development. During that time we enjoyed the delicious citrus bounty our trees provided us because of our yearly maintenance. Once we had the undergrowth under control, the land not only looked nice, but was a fun place to spend a weekend, and so we moved the camper from our backyard to the lake property. Life being what it is, circumstances pretty well dashed all future plans for the land, and we will expand on that a little later on in our story
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the unbridled excitement that existed without much travel at all (to the nearest open field). We all awaited the fall and GraY football. With George, it was all or nothing. When there wasn’t a game he practiced, or made up one himself in the backyard. He was the only person I have ever known who can play a game all alone and loose (DV-4).
Later in the spring of 1973, we decided to take our camper, fold boat and head for Key West. Just to Miami from Jacksonville was quite a day’s trip and we spent our first night in one of the many beach campgrounds just south of Miami. The next morning we got an early start and headed for Bahia Honda, the key that had overnight camping facilities. We were only one of a few campers when we got there, and began to realize why. The wind was fierce and constant. We really struggled to set up the camper without it blowing out to sea. We took out the foldboat once or twice and decided it was not a good idea. On one such venture, I stupidly decided it would be fun to put up the sail—Not! Once the wind got to the sail, the boat just flew. I managed to get it heading for shore without capsizing and we’d not only reached shore but ended with the foldboat well up on the beach, all 17 feet of it. We managed to cook an evening meal, and being pretty well worn out slept pretty well in spite of the wind and rocking camper. In the morning, breakfast was nothing fancy, cold cereal basically. George filled up his bowl with what I think was Fruit Loops, and when he turned to grab the milk bottle, a gust of wind blew every “loop” out of his bowl. On the second try, he held down both bowl and fruit loops and when he turned to grab a spoon, a gust of wind blew out both loops and milk and sent the bowl over and rolled across the ground. We were spending almost full time trying to hold down things from blowing away, and after our foldboat experience the day before, its future use was out of the question. We tied down everything we could and headed for Key West where we spent the whole day. Since the wind was still howling, we decided to head back home the next day. On the way we stopped to visit the Miami Serpentarium, the famous Bill Haas curator. The show and the basically reptile zoo (snakes, crocs, lizards, etc) was great and informative, but the entry way captured the moment with a huge larger than live statue of a King Cobra, with hood spread. A great way to end the trip. Key West was well worth the trip (DV-5).
In the summer of 1973 both Karen and Bruce had summer jobs with St. Regis, and Diane was involved in Girl Scout activity. In conjunction with a business trip I was going to make in western Florida, Alabama and Mississippi, George, Mom and I headed west. For accommodations, we reserved the Butler cabin, one of the many St. Regis cabins near the small town of Nanafalia AL about 15 miles east of U.S. highway 43 at Dixons Mills. To get there from Jacksonville, we had to travel west to Pensacola and then to Mobile AL. That trip took us across the causeway across Mobile Bay. The bay is a big one being made up of the mouths of several major rivers. The Tombigbee joins the Alabama river just north of Mobile and collectively becomes the Mobile river. This body of water is joined by the Tenasaw and Chickasaw rivers closer to town. In addition, just east of those river systems, Polecat Bay had to be crossed if traveling from Pensacola. The causeway had to traverse all these bodies of water. Along its course were many boat landings and restaurants and of course, bait shops. The restaurants were all up-scale and provided venues for various society and other group meetings in the panhandle area. One of the most interesting (non-eating) sites was (and still is) the final berthing site for the Battleship USS Alabama and Submarine USS Drum. That was worth a visit even though it had been a long drive from Jacksonville. But we had lodgings for the night in Mobile, so we were in pretty good shape and in good time for a delicious dinner in Mobile.
The following night was spent in Picayune, MS close to the Louisiana border. Naturally we planned to have dinner in New Orleans. Picayune was only a few miles from the famous Pontchartrain causeway. Now this is a long “bridge” (23.8 miles). Half way across there was a turn-around. It was a weird feeling. Absolutely no land was visible fore or aft. This was the point where the roadway was elevated to let most ship traffic pass beneath. Well we did make it to the French Quarter where we actually found a place to park. We started off looking for Bourbon St. where all the action is supposed to take place. Well it was. It was just past twilight, lights were on, music blaring and scantily dressed female entertainers along with some guys were on the sidewalks promoting what “you can’t miss” shows were being performed inside. In one location, a gal on a swing swung out of the second floor window and right across the sidewalk. If that wasn’t enough entertainment, George stole the cake in that department. His little body could hardly keep up with his eyeballs as we strolled down Bourbon Street. Because of George’s age, that was about all we could do, so we retired early to head back to Picayune. The next morning (important business concluded) we headed for the Butler cabin near Butler AL the town the cabin was named for, but not as close as Nanafalia AL, a small crossroad intersection on the main east-west highway 10.
The Butler cabin was not as large as some of the other outdoor accommodations maintained by St. Regis, but it was cozy, with a fully modern kitchen and a well supplied (and open) liquor cabinet, which was mostly stocked with Jack Daniels bourbon. We stayed pretty much away from that, and except for that evening, spent our time outside. Fairly close to the cabin was a beautiful pond including a Jon boat pulled up on the bank. This was truly a woods pond with nothing but woodlands surrounding it. Not too far away ran the Tombigbee River. This area was part of that river’s flood plain. It reminded me of my early days in the Adirondacks and Dix Pond. And the fishing was almost as good. It didn’t take George long to land a few nice basses that, with the bacon we brought with us, would make a delicious breakfast (DV-5). This trip really reinforced the notion both Joyce and I shared, that it was important to spend some quality time one on one with each of the kids with no collateral competition with the others. Now most of those episodes were not as extensive as this, but with George this trip plus the Purdue caper of a couple of years ago gave us both great opportunities to interact in a natural setting. So believe it when I say this was a great trip.
Because of my overall job responsibilities, I was an active member of both the Society of American Foresters and the Society of Photogrammetry and Remote Sensing. In the latter capacity I was the 1973 chairman of the program committee during our annual meeting being held this year at Disney World (Orlando FL) in the fall. Karen was out of the picture since she just entered her sophomore year at Georgia Southern. So it was Bruce, Diane, George, Mandy, Mom and Me off to Orlando and Disney World. My main take-away from that meeting was if you wanted to accomplish anything, or pass on important discipline specific information, don’t have meetings in such places as Disney World. This was later verified in another meeting held in Lake Tahoe CA. The only attendees were those presenting papers or operating the visual projection machines. That was OK, though, it gave me plenty of free time and we all had a blast. Mandy had first class accommodations near the main entrance. The little train that circumnavigated the entire park had a stop right at the pet enclosure. Here the kids could go and spend time with the dog and bring her some treats. They loved the freedom of doing that all on their own. We hit three major theme parks: Magic Kingdom, Epcot Center, and Fort Wilderness.
Most fun was had at the Magic Kingdom, but for a change of pace and to explore camping possibilities, Fort Wilderness was fun to see as well. Epcot was a commercial theme park. The park provided great eating opportunities, and large corporations did their thing (General Motors, General Electric, etc.). We stayed at the Contemporary Hotel. Here the park railroad split the building in half, with a major station right in the middle of the hotel. On the same rail line was the polynesian Hotel and the pet kennel. The Park had 10 lakes of various sizes. One of the largest was Bay Lake. The major hotels and Frontier land were located on the lake’s shore line. The Contemporary had not only a wonderful swimming pool, but a great lake-side beach. The Polynesian had a completely different feel, and the swimming pool was much more exciting than the Contemporary. Plying the lakes were several packet boats that served as water taxis to all the above locations. We spent a whole day at Ft. Wilderness which was set up as a camp ground with plenty of spaces to park and set up camp. Another opportunity we didn’t realize was there (never did exploit it though). No way all the parks could be fully appreciated in the short time we were there, but it did suggest many revisit opportunities (DV-6).
Back to reality. Facing the cost of higher education, while not as daunting as it is in the modern day, it was not trivial. If we were to sustain ourselves through this period we would have to have some help. The source of that help would be the kids of course. We had a family pow-wow and we explained we could manage tuition for all OK, but spending and walk-around money was going to be their responsibility. Fortunately I could help out with their jobs. St. Regis was always looking for summer replacements, and we in the timberlands division were also looking for temporary help in the field. By the summer of 1973, after Karen had worked one year as receptionist and switchboard summer replacement, she moved over to the mill. The workers there that needed a vacation replacement were all union workers, so Karen’s pay was at union levels. For two years, her summer pay was higher than mine. After her first year, she had made enough money to buy herself a little 1973 Opel sedan, so she was able to transport herself back and forth to the mill, thank heavens. By the summer of ’73, Bruce had graduated from high school, and we landed him a job in Southern Timberlands helping out in our timber inventory activity. He spent much of his time in Alabama and Mississippi and managed to make several forays into New Orleans. I have never probed him about his experiences there. In the fall he enrolled in Florida Junior College, right near home in Jacksonville
During the early spring of that year, Bruce seriously damaged several cartilage in his knee during a swimming meet. It was serious enough that we had to pay a visit to an orthopedic surgeon, who specialized in sports medicine. It was a painful injury and he had to be placed in a cast. He also had a list of exercises he must do to rehabilitate it. That was even more painful (for all of us). One day while sitting in the waiting room, I noticed a big bottle of oxygen sitting in the corner. I mentioned to the nurse that I supposed the nature of these injuries sure warrants such equipment handy. “Oh”, she said as I pointed to the oxygen tank. “That’s for the parents, not the patients’ ‘. I had to laugh, but not that hard. He had a tough couple of months, but thank heavens for good friends. Dave Olson spent considerable time with Bruce in our carport on a jacked up bicycle painfully peddling his way to rehabilitation. Later in the spring he was doing well enough in his cast that we could make a trip to Jackson Georgia to spend the weekend at another St. Regis’ cabin simply known as the “Jackson Cabin ”. This cabin was located right on the banks of the Ocmulgee River. The Ocmulgee is a major tributary to one of Georgia’s major coastal rivers, the Altamaha, which enters the ocean near Darien, GA. Just below Jackson, and up-river from the cabin, there was a hydroelectric power plant located with a dam built to control the water flow into the plant. A couple of times a day they “turn on the water” so they can generate needed electricity. When that happens, the water rises quickly. There were many small islands in the river that were easy access from the shore, so if you were a fisherman or just wading the river, they offered small areas of refuge until the water went back down (1 – 2 hours or so). The plant blows a loud horn at the time they release the water as a warning, but is not always heard over the rapids in the river. One day the kids were on an Island when all of a sudden the river rose. None of us heard any warning While the island remained, any swimming access back to shore did not (the current was swift on each side of the island). For a couple of hours there they were stuck. They did have an interesting neighbor sharing the island refuge as well, a very healthy looking water moccasin. Fortunately he occupied the end of the island and had no desire to go anywhere else at the moment. When the water receded, so did the kids and snake with no more contact made.
Just below the cabin was an old abandoned grist mill, built of stout timbers with concrete foundation. It was located right on the edge of the river. It was a dangerous place to be because of the large and not so large pits sitting empty where former machinery was located. These pits were also located around and about the surrounding lands. They made a minimum effort to make them safe. By minimum I mean a light covering made of “ledger board” (1”x6” or 8” un-treated wooden boards). Of course by using such primitive raw materials, the boards didn’t take long to rot. Often in this case the rotten boards would still be in place but would support absolutely no weight, except for the maple leaf cover they would have accumulated over the years. Great care was needed in seeing where your next step was going to land. Another St. Regis couple went for a weekend up there and was confronted with a strong rotting flesh stench. Turns out a hapless deer was not paying attention and plunged to its ultimate death in the bottom of the pit. The family took most of the day extracting the carcass and dragging it far off in the woods out of smell range (reminded me of my work with cattle some 30 years previously). But it was a great cabin and we used it a couple of times and was always impressed with this benign river that could in minutes turn into a roaring torrent.
Before leaving the subject of the Jackson Cabin, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention High Shoals State Park located just a few miles west of the Jackson area. Here a tributary of the Ocmulgee cascaded over rocks and bedrock in a fabulous display providing falls and deep cool swimming pools below them. What a great way to spend a hot afternoon with a relatively short drive home. As you, the reader can conclude at this point is the unlisted perks St. Regis lands provided its employees and friends (DV-6).
As mid-decade approached, the whole family was busy on many fronts. All kids were active in swimming. Although Holiday Hill – Glynlea had a youth swimming team, our family was pretty well dedicated to the local YMCA which had a very good team and we enjoyed all the swimming meets even though it meant late dinners featuring Colonel Sanders buckets of fried chicken. All this activity was exciting, but none so exciting as Diane getting her drivers license. If it wasn’t bad enough trying to teach her parallel parking in the parking lot of the State Farm Insurance southern headquarters, one afternoon I was off in our room and I heard Diane in a rather loud voice announce she just slammed into a school bus!! My heart almost stopped until I found out this all occurred during her Drivers Education class while she was in a driver simulator machine. By 1975 Diane graduated from highschool and following her sister was heading for Georgia Southern for her college experience. She spent the summer working for St. Regis manning the switchboard as summer replacement. She did this for about 3 years, and knew many more of the “big whigs” of the company than I did. One day while driving home from our lake property, a car passed us and I recognized the driver as Charlie Ward, a guy I knew well from our maintenance shop. I exclaimed, “there goes Charlie Ward” to which Diane responded: “Oh you mean ‘Ole #289”. We all laughed. She knew everyone by their extension numbers. As to what Charlie looked like, she had no clue.
Later that summer, we made one of our many trips back North to visit friends and family (maybe in reverse order). On the way, we stopped in Washington DC and spent some time in town visiting the various monuments and statues that attract most tourists, as the lines would soon verify. We returned in time to host Mom’s brother Gordon and wife Martha. That visit included a day in St. Augustine, where there is enough history to keep us all fascinated (DV-7)
In the meantime, Karen was in Statesboro finishing up at Georgia Southern with a degree in Medical Technology/Biology. In the process she met a guy by the name of Barry May. The relationship had reached the point of seriousness such that we saw as much of him as we did Karen. Barry lived in Springfield GA, not too far from Statesboro, and I am afraid Mom and I saw more of him during Christmas break than his folks did, if they saw him at all. The miles logged between Jacksonville and Statesboro I can’t even guess. Bruce finished up a two- year stint at Florida Junior College and was looking forward to entering the Georgia School of Forest Resources next year. In the summer of 1974, George attended Camp Baden Powel, a renowned scout camp in central Florida, which gave him valuable outdoor experience and allowed him to earn several required merit badges so by the next year he was able to rise to the Life Scout level just one below the ultimate Eagle Scout. And (good grief) he also got his driver’s license learners permit. By 1976, he was driving with that permit, and doing quite well. The kid was growing up (good news/bad news). In the same year, he completed his Eagle Scout Project, finished all required merit badges, and was awarded rank of Eagle Scout. It was almost exactly 4 years after Bruce.
In 1977, as Mom and I surged toward our 25th anniversary, Karen had finished up her nursing training and announced she and Barry were going to tie the knot in June of next year (1978). Not to be outdone (a couple of weeks later) Bruce announced his marriage to Susie, a girl he met while at Florida Junior College a few years earlier. She was a girl we didn’t see much, but then again we saw very little of Bruce at that time either. Now I know kids have to make up their own minds about these kinds of things, but somehow Susie and Bruce didn’t seem to blend very well such that the match seemed to be somewhat a water/oil relationship. Even my mom (Mimi) announced after meeting her that she wasn’t for Bruce. Very seldom did she make a judgemental statement like that, so we were surprised, but calmed her down and said that it will probably all work out, to which we received a roll of the eyes. In any case, that event was scheduled for the fall of 1978. Man, major activities certainly seem to come in bunches, we are about to have a very busy summer and fall. Nonetheless, we still had two seasons to do other things like prepare for the other two.
First out of the hat in 1978 was on the 25th of April when Joyce and I celebrated our 25th anniversary. With all else going on and George graduating from High School the following month, the celebration was short and the whole event was pretty much lost in the noise of the moment. We did sneak out for a cozy dinner for two somewhere, but whatever, it was wonderful. Oh well, what’s a quarter century?
George graduated from Sandalwood High School in the spring. Like his two sisters before him, he chose Georgia Southern to at least get his core curriculum (first 2 years) out of the way. Karen and Barry still lived in the Statesboro area and so Barry and George joined the local rugby club. Now if you haven’t seen a rugby scrimmage you just haven’t lived. Details of that period of his life I shall leave to him (DV-8). Besides his graduation, the spring was pretty well wrapped up in wedding preparations for the big day in early June, with a couple of exceptions. The first was a quick trip with George to Chattanooga and Lookout Mt. I am not sure what prompted it, but we all are glad the prompt worked. The scenery was spectacular and the exquisite rock formations were mind boggling. Added to that was a golf course where the three of us swatted at balls one afternoon. It was a nice break from the hustle and bustle of pre wedding preparations.
The second exception was business related. Upon returning from Chattanooga in mid-May, I was informed by St. Regis Public Relations that I fully expected to join their team on a trip to Lompoc CA (Vandenberg Air Force Base) for the launch of Landsat 3 (LS3) in late May. I can assure you I didn’t put up much of a fight over those orders. What a trip that was. Fascinating and terrifying at the same time. To witness the launch was of course breath-taking, but dealing with reporters with pen in hand hanging on every word you say, is the terrifying part. For a guy who is generally known as a big mouth, it is amazing how fast one can become tongue tied. The launch wasn’t the only fascinating thing, but Vandenburg Air base was something to see. It was set up and run like any moderate sized city anywhere, except the Base Commander was in total charge. I suppose the most satisfying aspect of the whole trip was that someone on the top side was actually buying my idea and moving it forward at the corporate level (DV-8).
Well enough of the dawdling around. June was upon us before we knew it and everything was in full gear for the wedding. Diane was to be the maid of honor and she and Karen posed for an extensive photo experience in the backyard (with Mandy). Karen was quite stunning in her mom’s wedding dress. This was best viewed as she stood with flowers on the altar of the church. Our good friends the Olson’s attended and helped with a lot of little details, not the least of which was to toast the bride. Mom and Dad? Well after it was all over, lounges in the backyard felt awful good. So endeth what we like to refer to as Act 1 of the year ’78. Act 2 came front and center in September. Same church but far different conditions. Susie and her family wanted to take over the whole performance which included not only the bride’s responsibilities but the groom’s (our) responsibilities as well. We profusely thanked her for her partial offer, but pointed out that was our responsibility and we were looking forward to hosting the rehearsal dinner and thought she would enjoy the festivities. Shortly before the rehearsal date while I was cooking something delicious on the grill, Susie came out and basically demanded to know what we had planned for the rehearsal dinner, what restaurant we would be going to, etc. I responded that no restaurant would be involved, but the event would be held about 20’ behind her and in that house. She sputtered, got red in the face and stomped back into the house. You will note that above I referred to her offer as a “partial offer”. That means the bride has the choice of venue while the groom the pleasure of paying for it. Bottom line, the rehearsal was a huge success to the point that Susie approached me and said she thought everything went really well. The only pictorial evidence we have of this marriage was the reception at the church, where many of our friends, neighbors and business colleagues showed up (DV-9).
So far, 1978 had been a whirlwind and by the time the second wedding was over, Mom and I were ready for a break. With George in tow we headed for Disney World and Discover Island (across the lagoon from the Contemporary Hotel). What a contrast that place was. It has its own campground, but the overall setting was strictly “jungle” like. That was followed by a busy Christmas season, with KB and Barry, and George and KRO in most scenes along with Diane and Mandy all with the background of our “Charlie Brown” tree harvested from the company’s Nocatee-Manatee forest just south of town in Bayard FL (DV-10). We were all ready to move on to the last stop in the 70’s decade.
While not quite as hectic as the previous year ’79 was busy enough, thank you very much. Karen and Barry settled for the time being in Statesboro where KB worked as a nurse at a local hospital. Barry (who still had a year to go) took a job with the Statesboro newspaper, but he wasn’t overly happy with it. They remained there for a year or two when they decided Barry would go back to school in the Atlanta area to receive a degree in electrical engineering that ultimately lead to a beginning job with Siemens Corp. where he has been ever since. Of course they moved to the Atlanta area, and finally settled in Kennesaw GA where they remain today (DV-11). But let’s get back to ’79. As KB and Barry settled in, Bruce and Susie took residence in Athens GA where he intended to finish up and secure his degree in forestry. Diane graduated from Georgia Southern in the same class as Barry. The clans Barker and May showed up in numbers, and celebrated for a couple of days where Barry had ample opportunity to display his outdoors grilling expertise (which was impressive and still is). Soon after, Diane moved back to Jacksonville FL where she took a position teaching special education at the 6th grade center in Jacksonville Beach. Simultaneously, George moved to Statesboro as a freshman at Georgia Southern. Once in Statesboro, George and Barry joined a local rugby club, and in that regard, enough said (consult them for details, I think the statute of limitations has passed).
The late ‘70’s were not only active on the domestic front, but were very challenging (and at the same time, exhilarating) on the professional front as well. As mentioned earlier, we along with Purdue University’s Laboratory for Applied Remote Sensing (LARS) had applied for a grant from NASA to demonstrate the utility of digital multispectral satellite imagery in the management of the thousands of acres owned or controlled by the forest and wood products industry. We successfully made our case and in 1979 we were awarded a $600,000 three year grant to do just that, and I was tagged to be project manager. All of a sudden, corporate management saw a positive public relations (PR) opportunity and really gave us their support (for the most part). So it was in 1979 when I was invited to present a paper on just what we were doing and why, at Humboldt State University in Arcata CA., management was more than happy to grant my request to go. Of course they were already aware of what was going on since our trip to Lompoc was planned by Burston Marsteller, one of the most prestigious PR firms in the country. In addition (“as long as I was up”) how about extending the trip to Tacoma WA where St. Regis had a mill and significant forest holdings.
So it was in August of’79, Mom and I found ourselves boarding a brand new Lockheed L-1011 Tri Star at Jacksonville’s Airport to fly non-stop to San Francisco. Diane was off to Mexico with the Girl Scouts, Karen and Barry were ensconced in Statesboro, Bruce and Susie co-existing in Athens GA and George had a job at the St. Regis mill. Hoorah!! First real vacation with no kids. Don’t know if we can be trusted but we will try. At that time, any flight of 3 hours or more warranted the purchase of a first class ticket. All settled in plush first class seats, we were airborne for San Francisco non stop. As soon as the “fasten seat belt sign went off, the refreshment carts began to roll. No soft drinks thank you, but that Jack Daniels bourbon looked good to us and so we settled back for a nice cocktail hour (or so) before the main dinner was served. Delicious Filet Mignon, no less with all the fixings followed by a nice Amaretto cordial to finish the dinner (and us too). By the time we landed in Burlingame CA (San Francisco Airport), they almost had to ladle us off the plane. However it was still early and we took the opportunity to stretch our legs and walk around the town. The part we saw was mostly residential and built on rugged hillsides dropping to the narrow flood plain of San Francisco Bay. Many of the houses were small single story cape cod type structures. From a few “For Sale” postage stamp sized properties the going prices for such a piece of real estate approached 800 thousand to a million dollars. We decided we would not move in right away in spite of the beautiful view of the bay below (DV-11).
The next day we spent in San Francisco with a trip across the Golden Gate to the town of Sausalito. From there it was but a short side trip to the Muir Woods National Monument. What a breathtaking trip that was. Having read about the Giant Sequoias and Redwoods, I was really floored by what we saw. San Francisco was also a new experience whether it was in ChinaTown or down by the waterfront and dock area looking out at Alcatraz Federal Detention area well out in San Francisco Bay. One of the highlights was a visit and tour of the Ghirardelli Chocolate Company. Oh what a dangerous place in which to be turned loose. Looking at conditions in San Francisco currently in 2020, we are both glad we had the opportunity to visit back in the mid 1980’s. Sadly this statement holds for the entire west coast. But back to the good old days. After spending the night in downtown San Fran, we took off northeast to the Sonoma and Napa Valley’s and the infamous wine country for which California is so famous. Talk about the good old days. At that point in time all tours and sampling was at no cost to the samplers (at least $ wise). It was a riot to see bus loads of tipsy passengers unloading at the many wineries (Which was OK, they weren’t driving). Two wineries stood out to us. First, in Sonoma was the Sebastiani winery. While the wine was OK, we were struck by the exquisite wood carvings throughout the facility, especially on all the doors (DV-11). In Napa Valley, the Italian Swiss Colony winery, while not the most famous, surely had a great shaded patio, where we could sit down at last and enjoy one of their fine selections over lunch. Since we had a way to drive that day, our sampling was light, though we bought a few bottles that we thought we couldn’t pass up because they tasted so good (right presentation and served at a perfect temperature for the specific selections).
From the wine country we headed westward across to “the 101 ” the major north/south US highway in California, until we reached the coast and CA highway 1 that pretty much hugs the coastline north. It was a 2 laned road but well maintained. What a fantastic trip that was. If any one reading this retrospective has a chance to make such a trip, don’t pass it up. From high bluffs overlooking the Pacific, to low lying beaches as the road dips down to sea level. We saw several people on the beach but they all were dressed in wetsuits, and we thought they were part of a scuba diving group. All along this stretch, was a plethora of state and county parks and recreation areas. In one of these narrow parks we stopped, pulled our pant legs up and ran across a wide beach with exodic shells, and a gentle surf (at this particular time), and right into the water. Boy, did we ever come out fast. It was ice cold. Much like Maine, the northern coast of California is a sunken coastline and is dominated by the Humboldt current (similar to the sunken coastline and Labrador current in Maine). Southern California coasts are bathed in the Japanese current similar to the Gulf stream in the southeastern United States. We quickly realized the group we saw were not scuba divers but just swimmers that wanted to swim, and wet suits were the only option (unless you were truly from the Polar Bear Club).
We finally made it to our destination, Trinidad Head, just north of Arcata and Humboldt State University. Our motel (with a garage) was located on a bluff overlooking the Pacific with a bunch of huge rock outcrops just off shore. These outcrops made perfect perches for the large population of seals inhabiting the area. At the beginning, the “arp, arp, arp ” barking of the seals were cute but soon became annoying. We arrived on site a day early so had some time to look around. In the many years I have been reading/studying about the great western logging industry, two often mentioned transportation corridors for logs were the Klamath and the Trinity Rivers. They in fact were part of the western lore of the logging industry. Well, they were nearby. The Klamath ran south and the Trinity ran north and they converged in the Hoopa Valley Indian Reservation. We decided this would be an interesting side trip and set out early in the morning so we could get back before nightfall. It was cold when we left (in the 40’s) and even got colder as we rose up the west side of the mountains just east of the coast, but when we started down the east side heading for Reading and the Central valley, it heated up fast. Just beyond the summit we turned north along the Trinity River valley. What a ride that was. I had to have mom tell me what we were seeing because the road was narrow, with no rails and the drop down to the river was steep and far (several hundred feet I would guess). We finally reached the Hoopa Indian reservation, which was a lazy panorama of modest homes all with sizable gardens and front porches. The thing that struck us the most were the male Indians smoking pipes on their porches, while white “hippies’ ‘ toiled in the fields. The confluence of the two rivers was a sight to see, as they continued as the Klamath to the north. We could not conveniently get back to Arcata via a northern route, so we turned around and headed home the way we came and the drive was no easier. We stopped for gas when we reached the main highway and the temperature was in the high 80’s and the humidity extremely low. It was not long before the temperature returned to the low 50’s and high 40’s as we approached the coast.
The next two or three days in the Arcata area were well spent with the feature being my presentation at Humboldt University Forestry School. The entire area was fascinating just driving around. Where we were staying was high above the surf line, but there was a winding road that wound its way down to shoreline of a cove that served as the local yacht club, and boy did they ever have a fantastic restaurant where they featured all the fresh denizens of the local deep (salmon, lobster, etc). But enough time to move north along the coast, our destination; Tacoma WA. The trip up the coast was a trip you dream about, and was on US route 101. We spent one night out, and looking into the back seat began to realize we were collecting quite a collection of stuff we thought we could not do without. The road pretty much followed the bluffs along the coast. Like Maine, northern California, Oregon and Washington, the coast was a sunken one with hardly any visible beach, and it was bathed with a strong and cold Humboldt Current. We did no skinny dipping, that’s for sure. Shortly after entering the state of Washington, the highway turned northeastward right toward the city of Tacoma and the then headquarters of the St. Regis paper Co. (and several other wood processing companies as well).
For the three days we were there, we stayed with fellow forester and computer programming wizard Frank Shirley. He lived on Vaughn Bay, one of the plethora of small bays making up the Puget Sound shoreline. Frank’s back yard was about 30 feet deep ending at the water’s edge. There he had a small dock and a skiff he used to reach his sailboat moored out in the deeper water. There he spent many happy hours especially the long day summers sailing the bay. I went with him a couple of times and it is amazing how relaxing a small time on the water can be. One half to three quarters of an hour of zipping across the water in a sailboat can all but eliminate the day’s stress points. Sad part of all that is a little over a year after our visit, Frank’s wife died of breast cancer. To leave such an idyllic site at such a young age with young children was (and is) truly tragic.
While I spent time in the field with the area foresters, Mom spent time with some of the wives that were kind enough to take the time off to show her around. In my tour, one of the most impressive sights had nothing to do with forestry, but Mt. Rainier itself. Our first stop was and abandoned sawmill site in the Puyallup valley which was an interesting part of the company’s history in the area. But it was springtime and daffodil blooming time, and with Mt, Rainier as a background, the sight was breath-taking. I just stood there and gawked at the site and felt obliged to apologize for my lack of paying attention to what they were trying to teach me, and got the same expression on their faces. “Shoot it is seldom we see the mountain out like it is today”, they said. Normally the mountain is covered with clouds and to see it, even if it’s only occasionally, is a treat. I’ll be sure to swing Mom through the Puyallup valley before we leave the area.
We spent a full day observing logging operations, which in the west coast setting was something else.The diameters of the Douglas Fir, western white pine, and other local species were measured in feet, and the trucks hauling them were likewise huge by eastern standards. Late in the afternoon on the way home we were descending down the mountain on one of the logging roads and I heard a high pitched scream, and the driver shouted out to look for a turn-out, which was fortunately just ahead, and pulled out just as one of these loaded trucks screamed by with a cloud of dust in their wake. Apparently, to maximize their loads per day, they travel down the road wide open. No way could they stop within a mile or two with the weight they were hauling.
The next day, after traversing the Puyallup Valley one more time, we entered Mt. Rainier National Park via the Summit Road. The rugged mountain terrain was challenging with narrow roads with many hair-pin turns and switch-backs. We finally reached the summit, at least as far as the road would take us, and as usual had a delicious lunch offered by the summit lodge. I believe we were pretty close to the summit, which boasts of an elevation of 14,500’, and I have Mom posing by a sign declaring 14,410’. A sampling of the rough terrain, deep valleys, mountain meadows, and fantastic views are presented in plate DV-13. The next day we took all our souvenirs to the nearest Railway Express and sent them home (No FedEx, UPS,etc. back then). Following that, we headed for the Tacoma airport and headed for home. With this trip we wind up decade five and the seventies (DV) and lurch into the sixth decade (DVI) and the eighties, which turned out to be quite transitional and somewhat unexpected. Stay tuned.