Play Dates

This week had us hosting school friends to play after school.

On Super-Bowl Sunday the weather cleared just in time for the annual Paskenta bike ride.  I snapped this photo looking west at the coast ranges and Mendocino National Forest.

No, thats not the infamous Jimmy with Daisy Daddy, but he is a friend that goes back just as far into my childhood.  The scenery in the NorCal hills looks a bit like Ireland this year.  Lots of rain gets the green grass growing.

Arrested (Part 3)

AW and the kids.

The old man glared at us, squinting to better focus on our quivering faces.  He looked at the cop, and then back at us.  Slowly his head began to shake. "Nope, they were taller," He said.

The flood of relief that Jimmy and I felt was like a wave of pure joy.  My knees went weak as I smiled and held back tears.  The deputy turned us both around and we trotted down the stairs and out the door.  Fresh mountain air with the scent of pine filled our nostrils.

"Looks like you boys are off the hook!" Our ungracious host quipped.  We loaded back into the squad car for the trip back to Quincy, where we retrieved our bikes and gear.  As we got our things secured and got ready to ride off into the sunset, I asked the officer one last question. "How much did that old man claim was stolen from him?"

The officer replied, "Five bucks."

Later, as Jimmy and I rode along, having gone over the experience together a few hundred times, still not believing it had actually happened, Jimmy said, "Do you think we should maybe find a pay phone and call our parents?  Maybe we should let them know what happened."

I said, "Nah.  We'll be home in a couple days, we can tell them in person.  It's over now.  We don't need anybody freaking out."   We agreed.

We never found out if they caught the perps, or if the crime actually happened.  I doubt that it did.  But whatever happened that summer day in 1979, it gave Jimmy and me a memory to last a lifetime.  And finally, after thirty years, I wrote it down.

Arrested (Part 2)

The two officers had a conversation while I waited and Jimmy sweated in the car.  Now our exchanged glances made sense to each other.  We both shrugged our shoulders and shook our heads, but it looked like we were headed "downtown" so to speak.  The cops had us stuff our bikes into the trunks of the two patrol cars, we were loaded up and headed for the jail, located at the county seat,  Quincy, California. (Pop. 1,800)  The bikes and gear didn't fit in the old cruiser's trunks.  They hung grotesquely over the bumpers as we made our way further into the mountains.

I don't believe we were ever read our rights.

Once we arrived at the station, Jimmy and I were ushered into what looked to us like an interrogation room.  They locked us in and left us together to contemplate the situation.  Tears welled up in Jimmy's eyes as we finally got the chance to speak to each other.  "We're screwed.. we are screwed!" was all he could say.

The only thing I could think of was that someone was trying to frame us.  Someone must have seen us that morning at the store, and decided to pin a crime on us. "Their trying to frame us, Jimmy!  But why?"

Of course we hadn't even considered the fact that we had been taken into custody and detained without being read our rights.  We hadn't been given the chance to call our parents.  We were only 14 years old, a long way from home and scared to death.  We hadn't asked for anything, and nothing had been granted.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cop opened the door.  This time we were loaded into the squad car together.  Our bikes had been placed in storage at the station.  He drove us back out of town.  I asked, "Where are we going?"

He replied, "Back to Plumas Pines.  The victim is there waiting to identify you boys."

It was about a thirty minute drive.  Jimmy and I sat in silence.  On one hand, if this was a case of mistaken identity, then we would soon be cleared and released.  But on the other hand, what were the chances that two boys, about our age, riding bikes like ours complete with packs, were at the store at about the same time as us?  Surely this was a frame up, and as Jimmy said, we were screwed.

The shores of Lake Almanor came into our view, the afternoon sun glinting on the blue water.  The patrol car slowed on the highway to make the right turn onto a deeply wooded side road leading to Plumas Pines.  As we descended into the green forest and the rustic buildings and rusty trailers of the settlement came into my view, my heart began to beat wildly in my chest.  My mouth began to water as the pit of my stomach turned over and over.

We pulled into the gravel parking lot, and the deputy got out, leaving us once again in the vehicle.  He disappeared inside a side door on the same building as the general store.  A few minutes passed, and he came out of the door, not accompanied.  It wasn't hot this time because the car was in the shade, but still Jimmy and I sweated profusely.  (Have you ever noticed that sweating is the only thing people ever do 'profusely'?)

He walked towards us and opened up our door. "Okay, boys, this is it."

We marched towards the door like doomed men to the gallows.  Once through the door, we had to blink to adjust our eyes to the darkness.  The smell of stale cigarettes and mold filled my nostrils.  The only way to go was up an old creaky staircase leading to what appeared to be two second floor apartments situated directly above the store.

As we climbed the stairs, it felt as if the walls were closing in around me.  My heart was pounding in my ears and time seemed to slow down.  I looked over at Jimmy, but his eyes were downcast and his expression lifeless.  We reached the top of the stairs and continued on the landing past the first door.  The hallway ended at the second.  The officer paused, gave two short knocks and turned the knob.

There was a bit more light in the tiny room in front of us, coming through tattered curtains above a rumpled old bed.  There was a filthy wash basin in the corner of the room, and trash was strewn about the place interspersed with clothing and cigarette cartons.  Smoke hung in the air.  The smell was mostly cigarette smoke, but also stale whiskey mixed in with the odor of unwashed humanity and dirty socks.

As my eyes focused and darted about, there seated on the greasy bed was a scraggly old man, shirtless, with wild gray hair and empty, bleary eyes.  He had a cigarette between his lips.  He took the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it from his mouth, exhaling thick smoke in our direction.  As the smoke cleared his lips, I could see his brown, rotting teeth within.

The man said nothing. He just looked at us.  The officer spoke first, "So, here they are.  Are these the boys?"

(To be continued)

8th Graders Arrested for Robbery

This photo makes me think of a cold war incident from the 1980's.  Some guy in a Cessna two-seater flew low across the iron curtain to Moscow and landed the airplane on Red Square.  Obviously the bee is the Cessna landing on the nose of the Russian Bear.  What became of the bee?  Anyone know?

The following is a story from my childhood.  Either times have changed, or I had an exceptional level of freedom for an eighth grader, but my friend Jimmy and I were on a week long bicycle camping trip in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  We were touring, meaning we carried all our provisions and equipment on our bicycles.  We were well in to our trip, traveling on a sunny day down State Route 70 through the scenic Feather River Canyon.  And that is where this story picks up...

Jimmy and I had packed up that morning on the shores of Lake Almanor and had already made about 50 miles on our ten speed bicycles.  The route was more downhill than up, and the canyon walls on both sides had provided cooling shade for most of the morning, but now the sun was overhead and burning our necks.  Occasionally we passed through dark tunnels, bored through the granite walls of the canyon.

Over the past week we had gotten used to speeding traffic and logging trucks squeezing us to the gravelly shoulder, so neither of us glanced backward as the sound of fast tires approached from the road behind.  Then the pitch of the sound changed as the vehicle slowed.  Still we didn't look back.

A siren chirped and a voice came over a speaker, "Pull over, boys."  We looked over our shoulders to see a local sheriff's deputy, lights flashing.  What did he want?

We found a wide spot in the road, shadeless.  Leaning our bikes on the guardrail, the officer walked toward us with his hand on his Colt 45.  I think both Jimmy and I were expecting a lecture from him, warning us of the foolishness of riding our bicycles on this highway.  Perhaps he would tell us some story of how a logging truck had run down a cyclist last year, dragging the poor sap for miles before discovering the gruesome remains.  We were prepared with our "Yes, Sir.  We will be careful sir." response.

Instead, he said, "Boys, I have some questions for you.  First I need you," pointing at me, "to sit in the car."  He led me to his car, opened the rear door, and I got inside.  Another sheriff's car pulled up behind us.  Back-up.

I looked through the window at Jimmy, and his eyes met mine, as wide as saucers.  As the officer questioned Jimmy, I had a good view of Jimmy's face though the window.  What in the world could have happened?  I told myself that whatever this was about, a quick questioning would reveal we knew nothing about it.

As I sat there, the inside of the car quickly got very hot.  Instinctively, I reached for the handle to roll down the window.  No handle, no door latch.  I was imprisoned in a little cell that was quickly exceeding 120 degrees in temperature.  I watched as Jimmy answered questions, and each time he spoke, the look on his face became more and more grave.  I kept thinking that he would smile, and then they would both laugh as the misunderstanding became clear.  That wasn't happening.

Jimmy walked to his bike with the officer and unzipped his pack, pulling out his knife.  It was one of those awkward camping knives with a fork and a spoon included in the many accessories.  I chuckled at the absurdity of it.  I had been giving him a hard time about the silly thing.

Now Jimmy was shaking his head as he spoke, sweating, and holding his lips in the peculiar way he tended to do when accused of some wrongdoing.  What in the hell was going on out there?

The officer now turned to me, opening the car door and letting the cooler air wash over me.  It was now Jimmy's turn to fry.  We exchanged looks.  Jimmy looked defeated.  He seemed to tell me with his face, "Don't tell him anything!"  But we were innocent and knew nothing. What could I possibly tell him but the truth?

So now it was my turn for questioning.  The officer began, "The reason I split you two boys up was to see if your stories match."

I Gulped.

" So, where did you boys come from this morning?"  He asked.

"The Plumas Pines campground."  I replied.

"Did you stop anywhere this morning as you left Lake Almanor?"

"We stopped at the Plumas Pines Store to get some provisions"

"What time did you stop at the store?"  The officer asked.

I told him, "About 8 o'clock."

He asked me a few more questions regarding the stop at the store.  Finally I gathered the courage to ask, "Sir, what is this all about?"

He replied, "At about 8 o'clock this morning, at the Plumas Pines Store, Two boys robbed a man at knifepoint, then fled on bicycles with red packs.  It would appear that you boys fit the description and can be placed there, by your own admission, at the the time of the crime."

My head began to spin as I considered what he had just said.

(To be continued)

Victories

This turtle must have been watching the Saints win in overtime last week.

This baby bear can go down the slide all by herself!

Snack Time

A friend of mine sent me some amazing nature photos, so I'll share them bit by bit over the next few weeks.  I love how these two egrets (at least they look like egrets to me) seem to be sharing a laugh.

Daisy seems to be doing fine.  She has been very spunky and easy to anger lately, but we have concluded this to be a good thing, normal growing up stuff.  She has always been so easy to get along with, but that may be because she was too weak to think otherwise.

We have all enjoyed the opportunity to get outside the last few days, although that seems to be ending for now.

Yesterday I was getting caught up on some yard work.  Daisy and Teddy were playing in the sunshine, but Zoe had gone back inside the house, and I wasn't sure what she was up to.  But my feet were muddy, so instead of investigating, I gave it some time.

After a while I spied her coming out to the back patio, tray in hand.  She had prepared a snack for everybody, tailored to each person's preferences.  For me she had made half a PB sandwich, for herself, PB and raspberry jelly and for Teddy, butter and apricot jelly.  For Daisy a bowl of Pirate's Booty and for each of us a cup of apple juice, mine on ice.

My first thought when I saw the food was, "Uh oh, sticky kitchen floor mess."  But I was wrong.  Besides, we were all a bit hungry and this looked good!  She set the whole montage up on her art table and called us all over for snack time.  Just like AW would have done.  

Her art table was in a sunny, protected spot that felt warm and safe.  I had turned on some jazz music on the patio earlier.  We sat and enjoyed our snack, laughing and smiling, and for a moment time just froze and everything was perfect.

Grumpy Daisy

It has been a very rainy few days here.  Roads are closed and streams are over their banks.  We have a small garden pond just outside the kitchen window.  I took this photo this morning as the steady rain pitter-pattered while Daisy slept.

She did not have a good nights sleep, and therefore neither did AW or I.  Our quiet little angel has slowly transformed into a terror in the wee hours of the morning.  She decides she would like to get up and go downstairs, and will not take no for an answer.   AW was trying every trick she could muster to get Daisy to simmer down, but her cries only became more desperate and cutting.  Finally we just held her in the dark, letting her struggle and scream, until her frustration gave way to sleep.

Now it's not like we haven't seen this kind of thing, just not with Daisy.  In that light I suppose it may be a good thing.  That doesn't make it any less unpleasant.

Her tummy seems better, but to me it still seems like something is bothering her.  We shall see.

We hadn't seen the sun in about 10 days, and this afternoon Zoe looked out the window, "Daddy the sun is shining and there is a rainbow!"

Rainbows are pretty rare around here, but in this case I was able to just open up the front door and take a photo.  Enjoy.