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Reunion 2005
By Carla Hawkinson
It was
Harley’s turn to plan the reunion; so here was their plan. Climb
Diamond Butte and have a great boat race across the pond. The boat
had to be home made, no renting a jet ski from the rental shop, or
no borrowing a canoe, not even if you got it from the Echo Piney
side of the family. No siree this was a made from scratch tin tub
kind of a thing. They may have been allowed to use Nita’s sink if
they could have found it there was no real specifications on that.
But first things first here, let us return to
the Butte climb. Most or all the climbers arrived Friday night so
as to get an early start Saturday morning, that way they most likely
could make it back for dinner. Most of them anyway. Lorene’s husband
Brent had procured t-shirts of all sizes to award to all the
climbers large, medium, and small.
However if you didn’t climb no t-shirt that
was the rule. I didn’t climb, so how did I end up with this swell
t-shirt? That is just one of the small reunion mysteries; or it may
have been that Brent just felt sorry for my inability to tackle the
south side of Diamond Butte and gave it to be as a booby prize or a
good sense prize!
Have you ever tackled the south side of the
butte? Not me, but let me tell you who did. Stacey and Mitch had
come from Las Vegas by themselves on Friday afternoon and stayed the
night so they were all rested and full of enthusiasm for the
adventure. Then there was Harley’s family—all of them, and also a
number of Max and Nita’s grandkids. Bright and early they headed
their vehicles down the road to the Little Tank school house, and
they may have driven up as far as the old Beach place I’m not really
to clear on those details. The climb began with Stacey being in
charge of her kid and Max’s grandkids, and how many others I know
not. Harley was carrying one of his little grand’s part of the time
and how many others had to carry kids I don’t know either; but did
this deter them? No way; on they went over volcanic rock, mean
cactus, huge boulders, snakes and whatever else resides on the south
side of Diamond Butte.
There are different versions of just how far
up they went. I think little groups achieved different levels.
Hours and hours went by. Max and Nita were at the ranch house
cooking dinner in the smoker, and I was watching them. More hours
went by. We wondered if they were ever going to return. But surely
when hunger, thirst, and fatigue sat in they would turn their feet
homeward; and finally they did! Now Stacey is a pretty tough little
cookie, but let me tell you she looked a little bit wilted. As I
thought it out, I figured going up wasn’t as bad as coming back
down, as most of the enthusiasm for such great adventure had waned.
Kids were tired and some even cried a bit, and some sat down and
refused to go any farther. Emily declared herself to be like a
delicate flower, and was going no farther unless someone carried
her. Stacey told her she would be like a stepped on Indian paint
brush, or maybe she would even deteriorate to coyote bait, if she
didn’t respond to kindness and cajoling, because she was just about
to the end of her tolerance! They didn’t lose a single one up
there though, I’ll give them that! Fine show group!
Now dinner was already about two hours late so
after a bit of reviving, most ever one was all washed up and had on
fine new Butte t-shirts; chow was now on. As usual it was fine
eating. Max had cooked beef, pork, and salmon plus we had dutch oven
potatoes and lots of other good stuff. And of course the ice cream
freezers were in full swing.
After a rest it was time for the great boat
race. The pond was almost full, the inlet was full and even some in
the settling pond... Now here are the rules for the home-made boat.
Boat should carry at least one sailor (no
stow-a-away allowed) across the pond. Points would be added for
parts on the boat that were borrowed (stolen) Nita watch your
re-bought sink carefully, because if you have to buy it for a third
time, out of Davy Jones’s locker, your smiley face may turn up side
down. I know mine would! Boats and drive system must be home made
not commercial! Well that was it. Now let me see, just what did
they come up with. I only saw two things that could have even come
close to the endeavor. One had to be launched out of the back of a
pick-up (a helicopter would have been better) And the other one was
a pitiful little balsa wood thing that flopped over on it’s side
when it even got near the water.
Max was designated to go down to the pond to
be the judge as to who got across the pond first; and when he had a
look at the contraption in the pick-up truck; stark amazement is the
term best suited to describe the expression on his face. Max held
his tongue and withheld comment as he watched the proud sailors
launch their newly engineered craft. They were sure that after this
maiden voyage proved as successful as they had pictured in their
dreams, they would be flooded with orders for watercrafts using
their new innovative design.
Max, along with the other spectators, was
fascinated as the pickup truck was backed down the steep pond bank.
Max mulled over how long it was going to take to get the truck out
of the pond if they got too close to the water and allowed the back
wheels to break through the deceptive dry surface and suck the
pickup down to its axle in the muck. Not to fear, one of the chief
engineers and boat builders had control of the truck and being as
how it was his truck, made certain he kept a safe distance from the
treacherous mire.
After much planning, discussion, and warmly
received suggestions from the spectators; levers, skids, rollers,
and brute force finally saw the magnificent craft safely in the
water. Now the launch site that the grizzled sailors had chosen was
near the inlet to the pond; just as fine as place as any, but now
just as they had overcame the launch problems, a new question
arose. The rules said the craft had to sail across the pond! Just
what did that mean? Another major discussion broke out! Was this
contest ever going to happen? Then with a stroke of genius, the
proud Capitan of the craft turned to the hapless judge and demanded
that he should make the ruling on exactly where “across the pond”
was from the launch site.
The judge now had options; he could make them
really suffer by trying to get the ostentatious craft all the way to
the east shore, some 200 feet away. As he looked over the plywood
sail and the rest of the paraphernalia, he muttered, I don’t care if
it is christened the USS BP; (originally the BP stood for Brent
and Paul, later it was determined the BP stood for “Big Piece.” Big
piece of what, is left to the imagination!) that sucker is going
to sink like a stone. So perhaps they should have named it The
Titanic or The Poseidon. Because he was very dubious as to its
sailing ability and was keenly aware that some of the sailors may
drown if such a demand was required the judge discarded that option
immediately. Besides, he knew the ship’s captain would take the
challenge to heart and suppertime would come and go before the
sailors accomplished such as task or drowned.
A flash of inspiration; the judge; who by the
way was not all that pleased with his appointment, declared that
“across the pond” was defined as across the inlet. This seemed just
two easy and the captain grumbled some as he had great visions of
their future empire as ship builders and wanted greater proof of
their craft’s ability. The First Mate, on the other hand seemed
pleased with the definition because he was now aboard the craft and
found it to be far less than stable. “Yes!” he yelled! “don’t argue,
let’s just get this thing done.” Now, what the judge had neglected
to tell the crew who was swollen with pride was there was a
fifteen-foot hole in the inlet that they might come to grief in; and
sure enough they did. The mighty captain boarded his vessel and gave
the command to set sail. When the attempted the maneuver, that
thing flopped upside down, no kidding the bottom was on the top and
the plywood sail was in the hole, and I don’t recall just where the
sailors were then, but they were somewhere. If the reader wishes a
better description, I suggest they read the Poseidon Adventure. Now
even the little balsa boat didn’t turn down side up, it had enough
dignity to at least just flop on its side.
Unbelievably the heroic crew finally surfaced
and without missing a beat proceeded to use the capsized craft as a
life preserver, they were no longer sailors, they were just very
muddy swimmers! I did wonder why they didn’t just put a big
inter-tube in it—but of course an inter-tube isn’t home made, but
then neither is ply-wood (The chief engineer and builder claims
he did not use marine plywood) and Nita’s sink! Credit is due
where credit is due; they managed to get the pride of their fleet
across the inlet and their supercilious home-made vessel out in the
pond. The brave crew were pronounced winners of the contest on the
spot which bolstered their confidence to the point they loaded the
Poseidon, uh, I mean USS BP back on the pickup to take it back to
the shipyards for minor modifications. As of this writing, the craft
remains dry docked.
Supper time, we had lots of good stuff and of
course more ice cream. After all the eating, story telling, auction
and all that good fun, it is finally bed time. I slept on one cot,
Stacey and Mitch on another, and I believe sometime toward morning
Karissa came in from the Boyd room to join our group.
The next morning we had a wonderful breakfast
cooked by Mike and Debbie.
There were left over dutch oven potatoes from
the night before and they turned them into hash-browns along with
bacon and eggs, and pancakes, and it was all really yummy. There
ain’t anything quite like Sunday morning reunion breakfast at the
A-Z!
We all really missed Garn, Barbara Cyle, and
Hal, who couldn’t be there, as they were in Iowa for a memorial
service for Barbara’s parents. That was the first reunion Garn had
ever missed and we were all sorry it had to be for such a sad
reason; and send our love and condolences to them all.
See you all next year, same time same place.
Love Carla
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