"Let these pictures of almond trees speak for themself... "
(((ed: I am homesick for Brac)))


What many people don’t understand about life in rural

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My Dad was loveable, tough, independent, no-nonsense and a very busy man. He graduated from High School in 1930 and everything he had learned about life was swept away by the overwhelming tide of the Depression. His plans for the future were now plans for survival. He and a brother traveled by riding the rails out to the Northwest from Iowa to find employment in a lumber mill working the night shift. He was about 20. Eventually his entire family made it to the mill town of Raymond, Washington but my grandfather whom both my father and I are named after was dieing. He was in so much pain he ground his teeth down the winter before he died. My father went on to marry my mother, another independent character, join the Army and find himself captured by the Germans at the Battle of the Bulge. He then spent six months in a prisoner of war camp with only rice water for food and the coldest winter in the 20th century . . . (c0ntinued)


In the summer of 1972 I met Tammy and Carolyn while sunbathing on the campus of Western near the library. It was in college that I really began to belong to the cult of the sun worshipers. Throughout the ages civilized man has worshiped the sun as a god and sun bathers have gathered together in a communal oneness to celebrate our natural humanity. One of my great teachers in this endeavor was a fellow student in my Ancient Egyptian class who dropped out school and spent the next 3 months lying on the roof of his house in


Somewhere between childhood and driving your parent’s car is where you find yourself in middle school. After school one day in the sixth grade I remember 3 girls pantomiming the words to “My Boy Friend’s Back” swaying in unison each girl with their hair done and pretty dresses on and me thinking that they were way ahead of me on the sexual awareness chart. . . (continued)
We have finally worked out our daily routine: Julia gets up at 2 a.m. and works through the night, I go to bed at 2 a.m. after watching late night movies and youtube videos. It's working so far.
I am becoming quite a fan of YouTube. I think Slavko turned me on to this when he showed me Croatian videos there. Now I find it astounding what a simple search will turn up. I just finished watching a 3 part documentary on Dada, a voodoo healing ceremony, and home movies of Frida and Diego.
As I remember it. The Christmas of 1962 Santa brought me a red Schwinn 2 speed bicycle. It was a remarkable present as I had not asked for the bike and was not expecting anything as spectacular as this gift. On Christmas day I was out front of our house trying desperately to learn how to ride such a wonderful bike. I was falling into the hedge and the roses and my father would alternately yell at me for falling into the bushes and wrecking his plants and pulling me out of the thickets and putting me back on the bike and pushing me for another start. After an hour or so of scratches and bruises and pain I was able to get around the neighborhood and visit my friends close by. This two-speed bike was a marvel for a kid in Omak. Everyone else had a one-speed bike and they had to huff and puff up hills with the same gear. I, on the other hand, had a second gear I could shift into by touching my pedals backwards and engaging the second gear. It was like getting the wind blowing behind your back. I felt like a prince . . .
With that in mind, how about a little advertisement on the blog for my fans to know that the carnival is coming to town ? soon!
Mr. Big Shot
Things are good in Alger. Get your ass back here. I need to borrow your lawnmower and I don’t want to be nice about it. I am tired of being nice to people who pretend to be your friend as long as you are nice.
I need to have my friend back here so I can borrow his damn lawn mower without being nice. And if I were to offer him a few beers he might bring it over as well. God, the world is full of crazy people and they are crazier than when you left. Speaking of crazy . . . (continued)"