Alabama Indian artifact

Sometimes it pays for me to have my email address on this blogsite. The other day I got the following photos and email from a man that has some property in Alabama. I asked for his permission to post them here and he gave me his okay.

Ernie,
I saw on your website as I was browsing today your email to send any pics to.

I found this years ago and wondered what it was. Tool of sorts? I came across your website and remembered I had some pics of my finding on my PC from years ago. I can get better pictures of it, but from these you can see the groove that runs don the entire piece. The other side is like a bowl and there is a notch on one side. Also there are what looks like cut marks to the right of the groove. Along with the picture I have some arrowheads I found along with it. I found these in Lay Lake in Shelby county Alabama. Any explanation on what this is would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks-Brian

I replied:
Brian

Can I make your letter and photos into a post? The little tool is very unique, but I'm sure that some of my friends will have and explanation of what it was used for.


Thank-you for sharing this with me!
Ernie

Sure thing Ernie. I took some pictures and put them in a compressed Zip file. I took these pictures yesterday. Not the most clear still but I think it is good enough. I sure hope someone has an idea. Thanks for the help


--Brian

The first photos were the best, so I posted them below.
Some of the things that the Indian people did with what nature provided them is just amazing to me.

What is it???

Sailing Ships

Anybody that reads this blog, on a steady basis, knows that I like wonders of science and technology. I especially like big machines. I also love to hear tales about history, and mans struggle to adapt and survive. The icing on the cake is stories about man using his technology to advance his condition, to satisfy his curiosity, or fulfill his sense of adventure. Nothing meets all of the above named conditions like the hand-crafted sailing ship.

The story of the sailing ship reads like an adventure story. “Once upon a time a person dared to dream of adventure aboard a sailing ship“. In the age of the sailing ship, a person was born in his village, lived in his village and died in his village. The only thing that the person might know about the outside world was from a traveling minstrel that moved from town to town and told his tales of high adventure. Most people could only dream of travel, or of seeing other places. Access to a sailing ship changed all of that. The lure of adventure aboard a sailing ship stole away many a young mans heart. There are many poignant stories of a woman watching her man sail off into the sunset, sometimes never to return, and sometimes to come home filled with wealth and adventure.

In the age of the sailing ship, the ship was the fastest means of transportation. There were no jet aircraft that could transport the average man at almost supersonic speeds. There were no high speed railways. There were no cars or buses. Indeed, there was not even bicycles. Other than a ship, the fastest means of travel was a horse, or an oxcart. Also, it wasn’t safe to travel, unless you traveled in a group for safety.

The swift moving sailing ships sailed groups of people to almost anywhere in the world. The ships traveled day and night, day after day, week after week. The ships didn’t tire and need rest and food like animals. All the ships needed to travel was movement of the wind, then they could move in any direction.

The sailing ship was man's finest technological achievement for many years. From the invention of the first sail, to the industrial revolution; the sailing ship was a machine of the ages. No wonder a ship was built with such perfection. Owning a ship was a high-status symbol. Nothing freed mankind from his boundaries like the sailing ship. Ships were the fastest moving machine for centuries. Both men and women worked to build the fine ships. Men used their brawn, and women used their dexterity, but they both used their intellect.

I think the thing that I like the most about ships is that they weren’t designed and tested by some computing machine. They were designed, built, and sailed by man’s own intellect, skill, and hard work, by the sweat of their brow, the bend of their knees and the strain of their backs.

The ships that the old ship-rights built couldn’t be built today. The material that they built ships from doesn’t exist in abundance today like it did in the days of the clipper ships. The wood used in ships was hand selected and cut in the forests adjoining the shipyards. Often the shipyards were moved next to a forest where the trees could be cut and hand-hewed into the pieces that they needed to build the ship. The laying of the keel was the first and most important step in building a ship. The keel is the foundation that the ship is built upon.

The keel was made out of the strongest and most defect free wood that they could find. In addition to that, the keel needed to have the exact curve to form the bow. Then the ships ribs were fastened and blocked onto the keel. The ribs came up the sides of the ship. The deck was fastened to the ribs to form a circular-strength tube-like structure, the full length of the ship. The deck was fasten to the ribs by “ships knees”. The ships knees are made from pieces of a tree that form a right angle, or “ell shape”. Not many trees have that fitting in nature. Oaks provided most of the “knees”, because they were the strongest and the most likely to provide that shape. Strong ships knees were one of the most critical fittings on the ship.
Tall straight trees formed the masts and spars, trees like fir, spruce, and hemlock. The ships decks and side planking had to be made out of clear, straight boards. The decks and shiplap provided the lateral strength of the ship, much like the fuselage of a modern aircraft.

The sails were woven on hand-made looms, then pieced and sewn together. The ropes were hand spun and twisted together. I have often speculated that sail making was done by women. Women have traditionally been the makers of textiles and cloth. Most sails for the Galleons were made in the Philippines from the local cotton.

From Manila Times, (Philippines): “Ilocos from historic times has been a weaving center with every other house possessing a loom. In the days of the Spanish galleons they supplied the sails made from the cotton they grew and exported. Modern times with their cheap fabrics and disappeared galleons have altered weaving markets. Now abel (also known as inabel), the Ilocano woven stuff, is used in households as bed linen, furniture covers, clothing.”

The iron fittings were hand forged over hot fires and hand hammered to the right shapes. The pulleys were made from pine knots with holes drilled through them. The newer fancier ships had steel sheaves in their blocks and tackle.

Enough with the boredom (or, to me, excitement) of building a ship. The sailing ship opened the door for mankind to explore the rest of his world... he was no longer confined to the village of his birth.

As I was writing this, the words from Whitesnake's "Sailing Ships" kept humming through my mind, just in case you would like to listen to it, I included it below. It's a beautiful tune, but listen carefully to the words. The ache for love and adventure is in the song, but it's more about life than sailing.



And... But, of course, no story about sailing ships can be complete without - John Masefield's
    "I must go down to the Sea"
I must go down to the sea again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star
to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the sea again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Wouldn't it be great if we had an adventure, today, like stepping onto the deck of a sailing ship of yore...




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Mud season is upon us.

As anybody that lives in the Eel River canyon knows, we only have two significant seasons... Dust and Mud. As of yesterday about noon, we sunk swiftly into “Mud Season”. It has rained 4.75” so far, the East Branch of the South Fork of the Eel River is up to the boat dock log in the Benbow R.V. park. That usually means that we had a pretty good storm. Just in case somebody slept through it, I did. There was NO wind. Wind and sleep are incompatible features of my life.

It’s strange, a few days ago we had those high wispy clouds that the old timers called “mare’s tails”. They said that was a cold front passing by, usually followed by a rain within three days at this time of year. The Totter-asses were in the fields and crying at night. That’s was another sign of impending rain to the old-timers. The pyracantha and madrone berries are just starting to turn. So far they have about the same blush as a new bride. Do brides still blush, I have noticed any new brides lately.

The robins are in the lawns and the wild pigeons are early this year. I haven’t seen Al Gore to check for sure but we are showing all of the signs that an “Old-Timer would say means that we are going to have a wet winter.

Time will tell, won’t it?

I’m doing another “windy” post about Sailing Ships. But, it’s dragging. This will be a fun post until I get it together

The bear lady

Click on link.
http://theava.com/archives/8385

Sometimes life just ain't fair...




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Overkill

Anybody who has ever been a mechanic can appreciate this. You don’t always use the “best right tool'. Often you just use the "closest and fastest right tool" that you have within arms reach. This itsy-bitsy ball bearing needed to come off this armature. I tried the old two-screwdriver pry bar trick, levered across each jaw of the vice. Nope! So I grabbed the puller that I’ve used for years. It was on the shelf just above where I was working. As I set it up with all of the right bolts and fittings I stared looking around me, hoping nobody would notice how over-kill I was being, using my huge pulley extractor.

I’ve had the puller since I was a kid. I paid a fortune for the bearing clasp. I couldn’t afford the two or three hundred dollars that they wanted for the whole puller, so I made the rest of it with material that I had laying around. Sometimes it just pays to be a good scrounger.

The puller was something that I used every day on the old belt drive refrigeration units. The clasp fits over the motor pulley. Then the right bolts are used for proper pull length. A bar is used to keep the shaft from turning. Then the puller bolt is turned in with a wrench. The pulley either comes off, or the shaft pulls in two. The puller has served me well. I think that it is every bit as good as anything boughten, even today.

After about a half turn on the puller bolt, the bearing wheezed and popped with a snap, then just slipped off. I got to laughing so hard to myself about my “over-kill” that I decided to take some pictures, and share.

The armature is out of our store vacuum. The vacuum started making a noise like a dry whisping squeal. The rumor was started the vacuum was broken. I assured everybody that the vacuum wasn’t broken, that it was just noisy. I even showed them that it wasn’t broken by vacuuming the store a couple of times. That was just counter productive. They all decided that they didn’t want to be blamed for breaking the vacuum, but if I was willing to vacuum it was okay with them. The “Broken Vacuum” story persisted and it got to the point that we were able to rake and shovel the store, but nobody would run the “broken vacuum”.

Okay, I stopped fighting it. I took the vacuum in the back, took it apart and put new bearings in it, and started a rumor that the vacuum is fixed. I have a whole drawer full of vacuum ball-bearings. It only takes just a little bit longer to change the bearings than it takes to change the bag. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I started a rumor that it was so quite now that you can hardly hear it. Now everybody has to try it just to see how it works, now that it’s “fixed“. I just have to shake my head and wonder what people think.

Dime Novel???

The closing comment on the last thread about Fox Burns was By Robin Shelly. "Shhhh!We're writing a dime novel here!"

I thought that the comment was very appropriate here, especially coming from a once-upon-a-time newspaper reporter. Reporters seem to soak up literary knowledge, and know little tid-bits about arcane things. But, haaa.. She didn’t get me, because I know about Dime Novels. Dime Novels were all the rage in the 1860’s, about the time Fox Burns was being born. The books were the entertainment of the 1860’s clear up until Television was invented. They were very sensationalized books about adventure and intrigue.

Most of the dime novels had two titles like “The Bradys and the Fire Marshall” or “Hot Work in Hornersville”. Most of them had a “Damsel in distress” that needed a hero to save her. Some of the novels were quite lurid and they talked about how she bared her ankle or something equally wicked.

A lot of the Dime novels were about the Wild, Wild West, like Buffalo Bill. Some were about Jessie James, or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or other less savory “scumbags”, as one of our fair readers pointed out. There wasn’t much law and order around Laytonville back in the days of the Dime Novel. Butch Cassidy and the Scumbag Kid probably wouldn't have sold that good. Every Dime Novel needed a "Hero". (capital "H")

It’s a little known fact, but true, that Butch Cassidy hung out in Covelo, just over the hill from Laytonville. I had to laugh at the characterization of “scumbag”. As times and mores change, I wonder how many of us will be “scumbgs” 150 years from now. I can almost bet that anybody who eats meat today will horrify the people 150 years away from us. That is, unless the world economy collapses, and we are eating each other. I would bet if you got hungry enough, even that would be okay. Then sometime in the future they will be judged for eating people. But, that has happened before hasn’t it? The Donner party became quite famous for that back in the mid 1800’s. About the timeframe of the “Scumbag”. Maybe a little before the Dime Novel, but I’d bet that it was a subject of at least one of the “Dime Novels”.

If you are interested in reading a few Dime Novels on-line click the blue link below. My fave is “Deadwood Dick’s Doom” or “Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure”.

There was an amazing amount of stories about frontiersmen, and battles with the “wild Indians”. The white guy was always the hero, and the Indian was always the villain. Some times a white guy would have a wild savage buddy, much like the buddy movies that you see today, trying to prove that a white guy can have an Indian or a black friend, like that proves something. “The Lone Ranger and Tonto” comes to mind. Or today, Danny Glover and Mel Gibson. We really haven’t changed that much have we.

The hero was always saving white women from the ravages of the Indian Warriors. Some white guys would take Indian princess wives, that was okay as long as they were princesses. But, the Dime Novels expressed the mores of the day.

Dime Novels or Penny Dreadfuls Before you read any of these Dime Novels, they are very racist by today's standards. By our standards today, it's hard to believe how little respect that they had for other people. I think that Suzy is right, there were a lot of "scumbags" back then. It's strange when juged by today's standards, to believe that this stuff was the entertainment medium of the day.


On a lighter note: I made more pies. See if you can guess what they are.

Fox Burns

Our friend, "Olmanriver", became interested in the early history of the Eel River by reading this blog. I seem to have kept him busy clearing up my mistakes and lack of knowledge. When I would make a statement like “Fox Burns was a survivor of the battle of Bloody Run”, he would check my facts. He found out that there are more “facts” out there than you can shake a stick at.


When people ask me what happened at a certain historical happening, I usually reply with “It all depends on who’s story that you want to believe. In most cases I've heard at least five different versions.” in the case of Fox Burns, I’ve heard at least twenty-five versions of his story.


I often used to get the old story tellers to tell their stories by telling them about somebody else’s version of what happened. They would usually start by saying something like “well that’s Frank’s (made-up name) version of the story’. That Frank is a damn liar, you can’t believe a word he says”. Then they would go about correcting Franks damn lies. It was better than television.


After my telling of a few Fox Burns tales on this blog, Olmanriver found this Obituary in the Ukiah Daily Journal.

I told Olmanriver that the obituary couldn't be right, they had fox much too old, and I thought that he was a survivor of the Battle of Bloody Run in Mendocino County. The Battle of bloody run happened in about 1861(?) The story goes that a marauding band of Modoc Indians came through Long Valley (Laytonville) some of the local Indians joined with them, they stole some horses, took them to Dos Rios, killed them, and were caught by the local whites butchering the horses. The whites killed most of the Indians except for a few that they took to the Covelo Indian reservation. The surviving Indian children were taken back to Laytonville and raised by the local people. My 3G grandfather Robert Poe being one of the whites to raise the orphans. He was also probably involved in the killing of the Indian People.


Olmanriver agreed that the obit probably had some flaws, and he started researching Fox. He found some interesting history that I had not heard before. So, now I'm up to about twenty eight stories that I've heard about Fox Burns. The story that is the consensus of all of the stories that I've heard, is that he was brought home in a gunny sack from the battle of bloody run at Dos Rios by Benjamin Burns. Burns gave fox to his wife to raise. The Burns raised and educated fox. That is my twice told tale of Fox Burns. That story fits all that I've heard.




 The following was transcribed intact from the original Willits News Article. [sic]'s included.
"WILLITS NEWS OCTOBER 19, 1977 By Rena Lynn

FOX BURN – FAMOUS INDIAN RAISED WITHIN WILSON FAMILY
“…Like many Indians at that time, Fox took the last name of the family which raised him.
There were a number of different Burns families in those days, and not much is known about the one which raised Fox except that it was the same family that produced the sisters Sina and Bertha who married Marion Wilson.
In the very early days, when the land of Northern California were first being invaded and settled by the white men, there were frequent clashes with the Indians whose traditional hunting grounds were being cleared and fenced.
The troubles were particularly acute in Humboldt County where the burnings of cabins, stealing of horses and murdering of settlers resulted in retaliation by the whites with frequent raids on Indian villages. From time to time word would be sent down to Mendocino County that help was needed and several of the men would pack up and ride north to join the avenging parties.
It was on one of these raids up in Humboldt county that three Indian children were taken alive after their parents had been killed. Among the men on that raid were Andy Bowman, famous early day woodsman, Jonathon Wilson and Benjamin Burns, the father of the Burns girls.
The story that was later passed down in the Wilson family was that Andy Bowman brought back two baby girls, strapped into boxes on his horse, while Jonathon rough tack a six-month old baby boy strapped to his.
Once back home in Laytonville, it was decided that the Burns family would keep the boy. The named the child Fox and kept him until he was in his teens and on his own, although in later years Fox would frequently tell people that he had lived for ’45 years with the Burns and Wilson families.’
Bud Patton first saw Fox Burns when Bud was four years old and attended a rodeo at Rancho
Primero with his mother and grandfather Billy Wilson.
Fox became famed as a bareback rider and rodeo performer, but on that particular day Bud says he was just riding up and down the arena on his beautiful jet black horse and the word being whispered around among the spectators was ‘There’s Fox Burns!’ as though he were a great celebrity.
Which, evidently, he was. Everyone still alive who ever knew the man remembers him as an outstanding, unforgettable personality, admired and respected by both his Indian and adopted brothers.
Mark Walker knew Fox when Mark was a child and Fox was a young man working in the woods for Mark’s father.
‘He was one of the finest men I ever knew,’ Mark says today, ‘honest, hard working, a happy man, friendly to everyone.’
Mark also remembers seeing Fox perform bareback in a horse race in Cahto when Mark was a small, wide-eyed boy.
Donald and Lee Wilson both remember Fox as an old, but still friendly and happy man when they were children.
‘He was different from the other Indians,’ Lee Wilson remembers. ‘All the kids used to follow him around and beg for stories, and he always carried a bag of rock candy just for passing out to the children who trailed around after him.’
Unaccountably, Fox Burns murdered a man when he was in his 50’s and was sent to San Quentin. Mark is not sure of the complete story, except that Fox was working in the hopfields in Ukiah at the time.
In the evenings, the Indians would gather around the campfire to play their favorite gambling games and one evening a white boy made the mistake of trying to break into the game.
A scuffle followed and something considered unforgivable by the Indian was shouted at him by the white boy. Fox, who had never been known to harm anyone up to that time, pulled out a pistol and shot the boy between the eyes.
He was sentenced to three years, but after serving only one was paroled to work on the road gang building Highway 101 north of Laytonville.
Mark also worked on that road gang and he and Fox renewed their old friendship and spend many free hours hunting and tracking in the wooded hills.
‘He always called me “Boy”’ Mark recounts, ‘and when the nights began to grow cool, he said ‘Boy, it’s going to be a hard winter—I’m going home.’
According the Mark, “home” was San Quentin which the old man had come to consider a good, warm place to be.
When he was finally released, he came back to live in the Reservation at Laytonville” END OF PART 1

THE WILLITS NEWS OCTOBER 26, 1977 Pg 5
THE BILLY WILSON FAMILY AND EARLY RANCHO PRIMERO
In the last years of his life, Fox Burns lived in the Laytonville Rancheria.
Bud Patton recalls a visit he made to the old man when he was in his 80’s and was laid up with a broken leg sustained when he jumped out of a moving truck to open a pasture gate.
Bud says he was still a striking looking man with jet black hair and all his own teeth, and with a mind still sharp and clear, full of memories of the early days of the founding Cahto and Laytonville.
‘We must have talked for over three hours that day,’ Bud recalls, ‘while he rambled on about his childhood, his early years working in the woods, how good the Wilsons and Burns had been to him and how much he had always especially admired Billy Wilson, and how he missed the days of the old time rodeos at Rancho Primero. How I wish now that I had taken notes of everything he said!’
Mark Walker also remembers the later years of the famous old Indian.
‘Nearly every time I’d go into Laytonville for something, I’d run into Fox and he always wanted to stop and talk over old times. He’d usually end up by asking me to drive him home, which I always did, except for one time.’
On that day, Mark says, he was in a hurry, on his way to meet someone somewhere, when Fox stopped him and said ‘Boy, I’m not feeling very good. How about a ride home?’
Mark explained he didn’t have the time right then, and Fox good naturedly said, ‘OK, Boy. You come see me soon.’
The next time Mark came to town, it was to learn that Fox had died only a day or two following their last meeting.”

The following mug shot is from Fox Burns' trip though the prison system.
The following is transcibed by Olmanriver as faithfully as can be done. All of the periods and capital letters, the misspellings, and other mistakes are the way that it was written. The transcript was supposedly penned by Fox Burns himself. There is no solid evidence one way or the other about the authenticity of the handwriting. It is very possibly Foxes handwriting. Remember, the Burns family sent Fox to school. 

Foxes own story: 
Start: 9:45 A.M. June.21.
Fox Burns.- full blooded Indian of Trinity County-but came to Laytonville when 1 ½ years old-parents were killed by soldiers in Trinity Co. Lived with Kai-poma family at Laytonville since. 1862.
(handwriting changes)
"Race Burn tuck me to his Farther and Sad and toll his Farther that he Brought this BaBy for his Farther. From Trinity Co. to Laytonville and the first town was Kato. and now its colld Laytonville and this town was Mane after Water. Manes of Warter. By two Langgs. one is mane as Ka and the northern's colld .To and the Indians lived South of Kato is maned the CalloPoma and now the White Peoples collds them the Sherwood Indians. and I Ben with the Race Burns family for .18.-years. How I came to Be with Race Burns family. Race Burns tuck me When the Soldiers come and Killed My Morther and Farther. this was in the year of .1860. this hapins in Trinity Co. and I was raised By the Burns family. and When I was a Boy I work for them for my colse (clothes) and my Bord fed Hogs and milk Cows and took care of all of them things for them. and I get wipping ever day for .3. years By the Burns family. I have that coming to me for being I was So Mini and I stade with Burns family for .18. years and then I went out and work for My Self from there on. The frist Place I went to work after I left the Burns family was. Divil Best on a Pack trune with the orther Indians. And this Pack trunes gos from Shellder Cove to Noyo. up and down coast. And there was no town in Fort Braggs them days. Just a Soldiers home them days. What they called the train them days they have mules, 20 mules.and three mans to ever 20 mules, and one to Call the Bill Boy. and he Help Pack also. and also the mules gos 12 miles per days.and they also have a stop in Place. Any Place on the Rode. And the way they have it is this way. they have a post one each side of the Rode and they have a Rope across the Rode So When the frost mule comes there that he’ll haft to stop there and also the next ones also.and this is their relly Stopping Place.and When they all got there they take off all the lodes from the Mules and Stop there over Nights or over day. Just as they go 12, or. 10 miles a day that’s all they go.and the Bill Boy he do the coocking for this to mans. And this to orther mans they do the Packing.and they never feed them mules Koun Hay them days. We Just let the mules eat grass or any think that they can eat. Or. When they havint got much lode We have .3. .4. Sack of gran for the mules. To feed. The mules.this mules don’t get this feed every day. Koun.once in a week. or once a months is the Best We can do them days.this Mules Pack lodes Just like the turcks and Trains now days. And there was Koun Mailes to Be Packt them days and them days We work.for$1.00 a day and work every day. END.12.45.AM
Start at.1.30.P.M. and We never had Koun Relief them day like it on the work work Sundays and all never Koun Sundays them days. I have Ben on the Job 2 years. And Friend of Mine. Tom Bell was still on the Job when I left. Tom Bell and I was working on the Same Job.he was Still there When I went away and left.the Job on the Pack trains. I didint like the Pack trains and I work there.So long I didn’t care.to work on it Koun Man So I lefts and I went and work on dairy Ranch at Bar Harber and I Milk Cows and Ranck work all the work to Be taking care off I was there to do it and also Making Butter also. We had 60 cous to milk. I had to Milk .20. Cous MySelfs and the others had to Milk .40. Cous also this Ranch was on the Coast.15.-Miles down Below SHELLdEr COVE .this Ranck is.the Boss. Name is Mr. Matta Chiqer Kaiser Ranch and I was on this Ranch .3. years and My Pay was $ 100 a day that was the Best Pay that We can get them do and lot off us Indians work for northing Just for and food. and ever thing was good them days. themn days We can By Sack of flour for .90. oo Sack all the things was cheep them times. And the the close was cheep them days.and all this Places I work I Borde there all the times I work.and I never was married them days But I had a girl Friend that’s all.and this is this Ranch wor I rode Wild Mules for .3. years. Broking for riding mules. and there 3 off us Indians and one white he was the Bosss.his Name was diKe.is the Bosss.and We had all the eats that we went and When we work. We work.and We went hard and we never had Koun limint to your working times We Never had Koun times to work work from Sun to Sun every day Just think Just for $.100. ($1) a day.and Now days the Peoples work just right up to the moment When they work Now days. And all the Places that I work I was well liking By the People. Around the Whit Peoples and also the Indians What little Indians there was. Now from here on I Can Say this much about the Indians there wasint very much Indian. Them days around up Shellder Cover. Three or four here and there in Places.and When I work on this Ranch I was one off the Cow Boy on the Ranch and anything in line of Cow Boys work to Be done I was there to do it for the Ranch. Riding them Wild Mules all day.long and I have done lot off roping Cows and Wy ell Mules this is My work that I do all the time.)END .4.45. P.M.

Some notes in closing:
I owe a huge dept of gratitude to Olmanriver. His research has been valuable, but as always, no matter what historical stories I hear, I carry a great amount of skepticism. I have found that no matter what, there always seems to be flaws in personal historical accounts. I don’t say this to be critical of Olmanriver’s research. Everything that is printed here is as factual as he could pass it on. His research was immaculate, but the historical accounts that he found are flawed.
Olmanriver pointed out some of the following suspicions that he himself has. The raid on the Bowman Place at Camp Grant on the main Eel river is the raid that they are talking about. That raid supposedly caused the retaliation on the Indians in Humboldt county. That Indian raid on the Bowman's happened on March 25th 1869 (March 25th is my birthday!) Andy Bowman was 10 years old in 1869. Fox was a baby in 1862. By very crude calculations based on supposed fact, would make Andy Bowman about six or seven years old!


Many legends have Andy Bowman as tough as nails mountain man, but killing Indians at six years old and bringing two Indian baby girls strapped to his saddle is unusual. Many stories passed down through the generations get mixed together, and many mistakes are made. I’m guilty of it myself, stories get confused. I’m also very sure that truth can also be found in these old stories.


Fox Burns own story doesn’t make sense to me, first I question if it was really his handwriting. It could be, but it is not verified. I think that he is truly a survivor of the battle of Bloody Run. He could have very well been told the wrong story about himself. He was too young to really know. Most ALL of the Long Valley legends have him as a survivor of bloody run. For some strange reason I want to believe the things that I was told, growing up with these stories. So who do you believe? This is the most talked about Indian man in all of Laytonville’s history. It would seem that somebody would have all of the facts, wouldn’t it. So far I’m up to about twenty-eight versions of “The Life and Times of Fox Burns.” 


History by "Olmanriver"
Bullshistory by Ernie Branscomb

Seekers of American Indian Spirituality.

Fred "Coyote" Downing, Photo by Kim Sallaway

Because I am so deeply interested in the early history of the north coast, and in particular, the Eel River canyon, I get a lot of questions about the Indian people, their culture, and mostly their spirituality. I often just answer privately that I’m not an expert on Indian culture, and I’m definitely not the one to ask about religion.

We have covered many Indian stories here, that could be interesting to some seekers, but mostly I have not rendered any expert opinion. I am the one that only believes in tangibles, remember? However, I’ve often said that the beliefs of the north coast Indians come the closest to something that I could believe in. Their beliefs seem to me to be more real than anything else. The Indian people see the world around them, they see the seasons, the mountains, the fish and the animals, these real things of the Earth are included in their beliefs. They pray for renewal and restoration, as in The White Deer Dance of the Hupa Indians of The Klamath.

In the past, the Indians sought renewal in their everyday actions. The burning of the north coast brush was a way of renewing the brush and reeds that they used in basket making. The burning renewed their food supply by ridding the acorn oak trees of bugs and competing brush. Their every spiritual focus seemed to be in a circular cycle, like in what goes around comes around. The Ghost Dance was a prayer ceremony that the Indians used to pray that things would come around the circle and there would be no more white man on their land in the coming seasons. So, their religion seemed to be in a circular path.

The Christian religion is linear, you are born, God gives you a spirit, you live your life on this Earth in Gods service, then your reward is to die and get to go to heaven for ever and ever. I think they call it “eternity”.

I have recently received some mail from some people seeking spiritual answer, and I know that there are people more qualified than I in giving these answers. When I think of the North Coast Indian Spiritual leaders I think of people like Fred “Coyote” Downing, who does the opening ceremonial blessing of some of the festivals of the north coast. As I watch the blessings, I often wonder how much is original "north coast", and how much is simply American Indian culture blended into a modern ceremony. For instance, the dream catcher is Chipawa Indian, but all indians make one now.

What I am going to do is post some of my correspondence, and hopefully some of you will have advice for these “Spiritual Seekers”:

Dear Ernie,
Hi; my name is Delphine, I am a 37 year old French girl and I got your email while surfing on the net .

To make a long story short, I went to California the 1st time as a foreign exchange student when I was 17, coming back ever since whenever I could, having met some wonderful people I call my 'other' family.

The first time I went, well ... I had to. I don't know how to explain it but I had to!

NB: I am 1/4 Spanish on my father's side and a few years ago discovered that one of the missionaries who founded the several Californian missions was from my island, Mallorca: Juniperro Serra. I guess that is what drove me there .

But today, I am writing you this mail because, OF COURSE, I am coming back to visit my family (in July 2011)!

I am taking my 10 year old son with me for them to meet. I am trying to think ahead (yes, I know ... but time just flies you know!!) about things and sights that might be of any interest to him ... and natural parks and places will mostly do it.

As for my own interets, I would like to go to places where there is a lot of spiritual energy, mainly from ancient Indian tribes ... and that is why I am writing you this mail.

While surfing, I have discovered there are a lot of tribes, ancient territories, museums, etc. But that is not what I am interested in .

I will be living in Penn Valley and was wondering if there was any place in that area you can point out for me, that I could go to, respectful of Mother Nature and the Indian Past (healing places or centers of energy, you know: that kind of place), that you know of/or have heard of, even if it is just walking among trees in a small forest.

And if you are not familiar with what I am interested in, maybe you know someone who knows someone, ...

Thank you very much for your time and the interest you will put in answering my question.
Delphine .

Answer:
Dear Delphine


I am a member of the local Rotary Club and we have sponsored many exchange students. Many students and hosts form permanent bonds that last through the years. I’m glad to hear that you are traveling back stateside, and I hope that you enjoy your visit here. As you already know the student exchange program is the very best hope in this world for peace and understanding.

Now that I’ve done my Rotary commercial, I will try to answer your questions. If there is a God, he lives in the Redwood forests of northern California. My favorite redwood grove is The Founders Grove located on highway 101, @100 miles north of Ukiah. It is simple to get there from Penn Valley. Simply drive west on highway 20, Penn Valley's main highway, until you come to hwy 101, go north to Dyerville, and you are there. (About 4 to 5 hours) The best time to visit is May, because everything is in full green foliage and bloom, but not to discourage you, any experience in a redwood forest is memorable. It is one of the most deeply spiritual experiences that you will ever have. Rain or shine. But stay out of a redwood forest in the wind. The falling limbs will kill you.

My favorite Indian tribe lives right here in southern Humboldt, the "Wailaki". They are my favorite tribe for a lot of reasons that I will leave for later. The Indian people of Southern California were steeped in the Catholic culture for years before the northern California Indians even saw a white man. Your countryman, Father Juniperro Serra started the California Missions in 1768, the Franciscans had a stifling influence on the Indian culture. However, the Northern California Indians lost much of their culture, later, from the California Gold Rush influence, (1849) but much of their history, culture, and spirit remains.

What I hope you will do is give me permission to post your letter with some others similar to yours and let my blog readers make recommendations to you.

Thank-you for writing me!
Ernie

Her reply:

Dear Ernie,
Well, THANK YOU very much for that quick reponse to my mail: it was so nice of you to take the time !

... And thanks for the Rotary commercial talk because from my own experience, everything you wrote is right: going away that first time just opened my eyes, discovering that no country was better or worse than the other, its people just being ... wait for it: DIFFERENT, that's all.

... But knowing also that we are mainly all a piece of God.

I am really into Indian 'things' right now:

- I am reading "1000 white women" from Jim FERGUS and what you wrote about the history of Indians in California made sense to me;

- I am doing a healing session next Saturday (all day long) with a chaman and there will be Indian songs, dances and drums- I can't wait !

- I am also making my very own "dream catcher": I have been taking clay classes for the past 3 years and I am used to model my own stuff (little stars, hearts, Christmas stuffing, etc); also, last summer, I met a lady in Mallorca who taught how to make rope out off palm leaves ... and I am in a desesperate need to touch, feel, be in the presence of and therefore will be buying very soon some rock crystal stones, don't ask me why! So it will be my very own special unique dream catcher made with these things !

Thank you for all the detailed directions ... now I have to study the map and see if I can make it there !

But I am sure my son will also be delighted to go to that spiritual place .

Yes, of course you can post my letter on your blog; I will be more than happy to get more recommendations .
Take care!
Delphine :-).

Then I also got this letter from another person:
Dear Ernie
Hi, i came across your blog when looking up pictures on eel river, and i saw somewhere you said the people who live on eel river have great wisdom.


What do you know about the indians or who ever it is that live there? I was always curious if there were spiritually enlightened groups in the humboldt area, but it seems all the natives here are all modernized and know nothing of the ancient knowledge their ancestors must have had. They just live easy on the government checks and get lost in western science like the elite want them too.
Tommy Hadley

I replied to him:
Tommy


Can I make your letter into a post? I think that you will find some amazing answers to your questions. But, to make it short, many Indian people have lost their culture, but not all are satisfied to "Live easy on their government checks". I think that you will find that not many of them "get lost".

Are you any relation to the Eel River Hadleys?
Ernie

His reply:
Sure you can post it.


I have always loved ancient groups with spiritual knowledge. Like the Javanese people of indonesia. I just find it hard to believe the natives here are spiritual. But i don't know much about the native history here in humboldt county.

I'm in search of an enlightened master. Doesn't sound like much, but finding an enlightened master is very hard. Many think they are enlightened but 98% aren't. The only way you can tell is if their aura is golden.

Sadly, most of the world population don't even see other peoples auras because they have be blind by material things like western science.

And my last name is hadley indeed, but what do you mean by the eel river hadleys? I know of 1 other hadley family here, but i always thought my last name was unique, and somewhat rare with a great history.

Tom

So that's it... I think that these people are honest seekers of a spiritaul path, but I would be less than honest to say that I would be the best to guide them, unless they are seeking the deep spiritual feeling that I get from living in the Eel River Canyon, but that is beyond my ability to expain.
 
So, all you wise people out there that are looking for fresh minds to guide and mold, this is your chance.

Some very interesting links:
Ghost Dance
Major Ervin A. Hadley
Current Two-Rivers Tribune
Wailaki tribe
Seeking Native American Spirituality? Read This First!

Local Indian Petroglyphs, Photo by Robin Shelley

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Drugs... Really?

To read my blog would lead you to believe that I am some kind of an alcoholic. Nothing could be further from the truth. Even though I enjoy a drink or a good beer every now and then, I only have one, unless it's a rip-snortin' knock-down-drag-out party, then I might have two. I have a deep fear of being under the influence of anything. I've never taken any drugs to any great extent.

I took a half of a Valium 40 years ago. I mainly took it because I was depressed. It made me feel good for a little while, but when I got off it I discovered that the emotional pain that I was under only got worse. I decided that I didn't need a Valium addiction on top of my other problems, so I didn't take any more. I took some codeine for back pain once, I was so screwed up for the next day that I was not able to function on a productive level. I took a half of a vicadin after an operation. I slept for 16 hours. After than I figured out that life was better with the pain. I have never been able to figure out why anyone would like to punch-out of this life by using drugs. Is being non-functional that much fun.

I don't believe in a higher power that spends his life making sure that I don't stub my toe. So I realize that everything that I do has consequences, and I'm the on that suffers those consequences. I'm so faithless that I calculate the odds of every risk that I take. The odds of me being able to function with a drug adiction are remarkably slim, so I don't use them. In fact I fear them. I'm no moralist, I don't really care what you do with your life, but I question the value of being "out of it" with drugs.


Then in the last blog post I did, somebody listed Felix Wayne Mitchell Jr. as somebody that "Changed thier Life. I think that "somebody" was pulling my leg, but maybe not. Can somebody like Felix Mitchell be a "Hero"?

From Wikipedia:
"Mitchell created a criminal organization called "6-9 Mob" M. O. and B. standing for "My Other Brother" indicating the bond that connected the gangsters. Connected with L.A. kingpin Tootie Reese, he made business contacts in the Bay Area, Los Angeles and Detroit."

"For more than a decade, Mitchell battled competition from Mickey Moore’s crime family and the Funktown USA gang to gain total control of the lucrative heroin market. Before 1984-1985 and the widespread practice of free-basing cocaine (smoking crack), heroin use was more common and dealing it was a fast, easy way to make a lot of money in Oakland. It is estimated that Mitchell’s crew brought in around $400,000 dollars in weekly business. Mitchell used some of his criminal proceeds to give back to the community, and he is credited with sponsoring local athletic programs for youths. He also hosted a busload of children on a field trip to Marine World Africa USA. The community respected him and spoke highly of him. When he drove down the streets of Oakland, people lined the streets just to wave at him, the reception was similar to a visiting dignitary."

"The notoriety of Mitchell’s empire soon came to the attention of local and national law enforcement. Mitchell was convicted in 1985 and sentenced to life in prison. He was shipped off to Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary where he was fatally stabbed on August 21, 1986, a little more than a year into his sentence, just days before his 32nd birthday. However, Mitchell's imprisonment did not have the crime reducing effects law enforcement had hoped for. In what would later be termed the "Felix Mitchell Paradox", drug sales continued and, with Mitchell's monopolistic pricing eliminated, competition reduced the price of heroin. The main effect of Mitchell's imprisonment was to destabilize the market, lowering drug prices and increasing violence as rival gang members challenged each other for market shares with a consequent rise in drive-by shootings, street homicides and felonious assaults. Indirectly, effective law enforcement, followed by incapacitation, stimulated serious random violence."

Felix Wayne Mitchell Jr. Bio= http://www.biography.com/articles/Felix-Mitchell-487984

Kinky

This group played at Earth Dance. I got hooked on this dance scene. Warning: the ending is graphic. It kinda goes along with the stuff that people do to shock others today. If Eric is reading he definately shouldn't watch the ending. Like Eric, I seriously question the need for some of this stuff, but I liked the music and especially the dancing. Kids...

Kinky - New Music - More Music Videos

Name a few people that changed your world.

While Suzy and I are debating how great Jack Kerouac and Charlie Parker were, I thought maybe the rest of you could chime in with your own list of your favorite characters, and what made them great to you. I know the obvious is usually someone in your own family, that’s okay, but try to add someone that you think changed the whole world. And say a few things about them...

I'll start! I'm not necessarily going to put mine in any kind of order. I'll just mention them as they come to the top of my mind. Kinda' like the academy awards of my favorite people. These are the people that made me what I am today, for the most part.

Albert Einstein: I know, you guys are tired of hearing about Einstein, but he was one of the first people that ever made me wonder about the things around me. I first remember hearing about Einstein as a small child; even then he was revered as one of the world’s smartest men. I often wondered that, if I studied hard, could I become as smart as Einstein? That statement alone should tip you off that Einstein was much more intelligent than me.

I’ve read a lot of things about Einstein through the years. He always had my admiration. He caused me to wonder about time travel, and would it really be possible to travel back and forth through time. After reading Einstein’s theories about changing time, I came to an understanding that to change time would be so enormously complicated that it would never be practical, as in Jules Vern’s Time machine, where you just set the clock shaped dial, and went to what ever year and day that you wanted to travel to. So Einstein brought me the disappointment of knowing that I wasn’t going to go forward or back in time. Even if I could, I would not get any younger or older with-in my own personnel time frame. Dang!

Einstein so well understood the world around him that he was able to understand how to manufacture an atomic bomb. Building an atomic weapon is hard enough when you already know how to do it, but to just pull it out of your head is pretty amazing. Most people could understand the physics of an atomic weapon if it was drawn out on paper for them, including me. Einstein personally warned President Roosevelt that the Germans were very near to having an atomic bomb back in 1939. Roosevelt launched the “Manhattan Project” to develop our own nuclear weapon, but we didn’t use it on Germany, we used it to stop the war with Japan.

As some of you know, I always wondered about “God” and at what level is God real. I always looked to very smart people for guidance. Einstein was reluctant to speak out against God, possibly because of the vast amount of people that believe in a God, and the fact that most people believe that we were “made in God’s image”. His reluctance to speak out about his disbelief in God prompted many people to put words in his mouth, as indeed we still see today. Many people claim that Einstein believed in God. I think it best to simply quote him:

"The word ‘God’ is for me nothing more than the expression and product of human weakness, the Bible a collection of honorable, but still purely primitive, legends which are nevertheless pretty childish”

Repeated attempts by the press to present Albert Einstein as a religious man provoked the following statement:
“It was, of course, a lie what you read about my religious convictions, a lie which is being systematically repeated. I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it.”—Albert Einstein.

Isaac Asimov was also one of my Heroes. As a young man I read everything that I could possibly get my hands on. I’ve always loved machinery, and building things. One of the first things that I noticed about machines is that they are always consistent. If you turn the wheel to the left, the machine goes to the left. ALWAYS! It’s not like arguing with my wife, the only thing consistent there is that I always LOSE.

It has been said that Isaac Asimov invented the word robot. The word was actually a Czech word for artificial man or slave. Asimov gave it it's modern meaning that we all recognize; a mechanical-man that follows our instructions. Asimov was a brilliant man that was one of the most prolific Science Fiction writers of all time. I've read every book that he ever wrote many years ago, and it is time to start over. If you don't know who Asimov was, but want to read one of his books, read "I Robot" it was the book that put the word "Robot" into the English Language.
There was no room for doubt about how Asimov felt about God:
“I am an atheist, out and out. It took me a long time to say it. I've been an atheist for years and years, but somehow I felt it was intellectually unrespectable to say one was an atheist, because it assumed knowledge that one didn't have. Somehow, it was better to say one was a humanist or an agnostic. I finally decided that I'm a creature of emotion as well as of reason. Emotionally, I am an atheist. I don't have the evidence to prove that God doesn't exist, but I so strongly suspect he doesn't that I don't want to waste my time.”

I like Robert A. Heinlein. Who wrote "Farnham’s Freehold". I have posted about him before. He was very important in forming some of my thoughts. "Farnhams Freehold" was about the nuclear apocalypse, and life after.

Heinlein was an outspoken atheist, Quote:
“The most ridiculous concept ever perpetrated by H. Sapiens is that the Lord God of Creation, Shaper and Ruler of the Universes, wants the saccharine adoration of his creations, that he can be persuaded by their prayers, and becomes petulant if he does not receive this flattery. Yet this ridiculous notion, without one real shred of evidence to bolster it, has gone on to found one of the oldest, largest and least productive industries in history.” Robert A. Heinlein

Way up on my list of men that I admire is Arthur C. Clark. Clark described the position in the sky where satellites would remain in geosynchronous orbit indefinitely. Many of the satellites that relay television and other communication signals are positioned in the “Clarks Belt”. Named after him for his intelligent thought on the subject. His calculations of it’s position were exactly right. He also wrote "2001, A Space Odyssey". It was made into the worlds most boring science fiction film. Read the book, forget the film, too artsy.
His feelings on religion follow much the same as all of my other heroes. But he like to remark about religion facetiously, leaving one to wonder how he really felt about the presence of God. One of his quotes was:

"Religion" is ultimately somewhat complicated. He said, "Any path to knowledge is a path to God—or Reality, whichever word one prefers to use".
But he also said:
"One of the great tragedies of mankind is that morality has been hijacked by religion."
On his death bed he said:
"Absolutely no religious rites of any kind, relating to any religious faith, should be associated with my funeral."

Just to prove that I am not completely without religious heroes, Dr. Martin Luther King is also one of my heroes. Not for his religious work, but his work for civil rights, and the betterment of mankind.

My two favorite song writers are Kris Kristopherson and Hoyt Axton. I’m not sure about their belief in God.

Any thoughts of your own?

Not Fair!

When I first started blogging I got attacked unfairly a couple of times by anonymous bloggers. Being new to blogging, I felt that I had to defend myself. I spent hours (yes hours) composing a good reply to the unfair remarks. I was particularly annoyed that the person didn’t even have the courtesy to sign their name. As I spent more time blogging, it occurred to me that there was such a thing as a “Blog Troll”. The blog troll is a person that will say anything, even lies, without fear of retribution. The more annoying they become the more gleeful they get. Nothing makes them happier than to get into a persons head, and make them think that they have to defend themselves.

Some of the more experienced bloggers advised me to simply ignore the trolls, but, I found that a percentage of the people out there will believe the rantings of even the most insane person. The experienced bloggers told me that a certain amount of people will believe anything, right or wrong, credible or not, and that there would be nothing that can be done about it. I swore that I would never believe anything from an anonymous blogger. Later I started reading some of the more intelligent of the anonymous blog comments. I found some of them to be very wise and pertinent. So, I could no longer ignore the anonymous bloggers, but I very often wished that I could have the privilege of knowing WHO was so wise as to make some of the comments that I admired so much.

Very often, knowing who is making a comment will put it into context for you, when otherwise, it would make no sense. Some of that happened recently on my blog, where something completely innocent was taken as a death threat. Emails behind the lines flew, until everybody found out that a “choker” is a cable that a log is pulled with, and not very threatening at all. Funny how after we knew who the “death threat” was from, an old logger, it became quite humorous.

Sometimes you get to know a blogger by his/her “nom de plume”, or made up name, where they don’t reveal exactly who they are, but give you the courtesy of knowing that they are the same person that used that name the last time. When people just sign “Anonymous” nobody knows one from the other. Some of us spend a great deal of time trying to sort out who is who.

Most of the “nom de plume” bloggers are people that want to build a mirror identity. Usually they espouse some great cause or ideology. They think of themselves as Zoro. Batman, Superman, or some other anonymous crusader. If they see a wrong in the world, they whip out their false identity, put on their capes, sit down at their keyboards, and type as if the world depended upon their rantings. They set about righting all the wrongs in their silly little worlds. Usually they just cause turmoil. In my opinion, Nixon would have been exposed without “Deepthroat”, but who am I to say.

I admire people like Eric Kirk, Hank Sims, Fred Mangles, Rose, Dave Kirby, Bunny, and others that sign what they have say. Sorry to all of you that sign their names that I forgot, but I also admire you! The ones that I don’t admire are the ones that pontificate about others wrong-doings when they themselves don’t even have the-courage-of-their-convictions to sign their names. I don’t mind gentle opinions, but personal, named attacks, should be signed.

My grandmother often said that “you are the person that you would be, if nobody ever found out about the things that you do.” I often refer to the wisdom of my ancestors, and after a few un-signed attacks on me, I vowed that I would always sign my name to anything that I say on the blogs. If I say it, I sign it. You would be amazed at the things that I have thought about saying anonymously, but didn’t. In the end, I feel better about myself knowing that I avoided being mean, or hurting someone’s feelings. Sadly, I seem to think that “Anonymous” is fair game, because they have no personal investment in what they say. Incredulously, they seem to be insulted when I fly into them, like they were personally invested in an unsigned comment! Go figure, they take "Anonymous" personally, like that was their real identity!

Now, to the root of all of this rhetoric. An anonymous blogger (The Joe Blow Report) attacked Dave Stancliff for writing about the unfairness of doing a very vulgar demonstration at the funeral of a fallen soldier. Dave, a writer and a journalist, believes in free speech, above and beyond what the average person has even thought about. Many journalist agonize over what, and when, it is the right time to say things. Like, “You can’t shout FIRE! in a crowded theater”. An old cliché, but a good point. Dave spent a considerable amount of time, and gave a great amount of thought to the rights of the church group that demonstrated at the soldiers funeral. It was Dave’s opinion that the family of the fallen soldier had the right to a respectful, quite funeral, without disruptive disrespect. Many would agree, including the courts. But, the decision was overturned, and it is now going to the supreme court.

To add to the confusion, and possible unfairness, Dave is a veteran of “The war that didn’t happen” he was a soldier in Cambodia. The war that Nixon denied, the war that caused the Kent State riot, and the student deaths. I don’t know what demons that Dave still carries around with him, but I would guess that they are considerable. To have “Joe Blow” openly taunting him, from behind his cowards curtain of anonymousness, seems to be patently unfair. I think that the unfairness would be easier to swallow if he had the courage to sign his name. Don’t get me wrong, Joe Blow often makes valid points, but plain viciousness, for viciousness’s sake, is just plain unfair. Dave deserves respect. Even when you disagree with him.

If you want to familiarize yourself with this subject, please use the following links:
 Dave Stancliff, offers a reward for exposing the identity of "Joe Blow".
 The Joe Blow Report.
Free speech, maybe

How to refinish a tub

Robin wants to know how to refinish a tub. Oregon told her that I might know...

Reply: Yeah, I've got a bunch of stuff on tubs. Do the research, and do it right. It has to be professionally done, and the fumes can kill you. The restorations turn out great though. More later…

I’ve been up to my eyeballs lately. More later…

Did you notice that Joe’s back? More later….

I’m on my way to Laytonville to LaNell Goforth’s funeral. More later…
My internet at home is out. More later…
Think of something to talk about until I get back. More later…

No Folks... This Ain't Kristabel's Kitchen!

Kristabel's kitchen pumps out stuff that mine never will. Her cooking makes my mouth water, and my stomach growl just reading about it. She tells how to make Marshmallows, limoncello, nectarine tarts, and other treats that few can even ponder. ( Link to Kristabell )

Nectarine Tart and photo by Kristabel

Her posts are neat and organized. She has enough of a sense of humor, she can include a photo of her pie crust all over the floor, where she spilled it. I’ve also spilled pie crust on the floor. I cover my clumsiness by pretending that I was feeding the dog. I hate when that happens, the dog doesn’t meet my standards for cleanliness, I have to stop everything clean up what the dog leaves, wash and dry my hands, and start over. The last time that I did that I forgot to put the salt in my pie, and I ended up with a flat pie. (humor, get it? Flat pie?)

Anyway, I made some pies last night and I thought, “hey I should do a picture post, like Kristabel”! Rather than use a good camera like her, I just use my cell phone. I soon found out, that slows things up considerably. Each time you take a photo, you have to stop and wash and dry your hands. I imagine that a camera would soon be ruined with flour and other food orts if you didn’t. (now, the next time you do a crossword puzzle and they give you a clue for three letter word for “Food Scrap”. The answer is “ort”, and now you have actually seen it used in a sentence.

I just included the photos below. Anybody that is going to make the pie will know what order that they belong in, so figure it out yourself. Included in the photos is a clue for one of the commenters here. See if anybody can figure out that one of the pies is a “pay-up” for some work done on the Laytonville history. And who it might be.

This is a pie made from the recipe in a previous post. I should tell you that the pie is made EXACTLY like the recipe said. So don’t come whining to me if your pie doesn't turn out. The only thing that might confuse you is the amount of apples. Store bought apples are larger than the average local tree apple, so cut down to FIVE store apples. I used I/4 teaspoon of nutmeg, and ¼ teaspoon of ginger. I cooked the pie at 350 for 55 minutes. The pie should be bubbly, and have a nicely browned crust. Some like their pies well done, if you are one of those, reduce the temperature down to 300 until the pie is done to your satisfaction. Don’t over-cook, or let the crust burn.

The other thing that I should tell you is, you can use a food processor if you like. I do everything by hand, it reminds me of the old folks that came before us. Their pies were remarkably tasty achievements. My 3G grandmother was famous for her pies, and her legend lives yet today. My recipes include things like acorn muffins. I cook mostly as a remembrance of the Old-timers.

Love, hope, and charity, in a rip-off world.

Photo from Wikipedia. "Brother can you spare a dime"

How many times have you turned on the news and been confronted with a poor sad faced child from a third world country. Usually they have an actor presenting the child to you, with the story line that all you have to do is send pennies a day to keep this child fed, clothed, and educated. Then you read that all of the food that is being sent to the African countries, where children are starving, is setting on a dock somewhere rotting. You become somewhat jaded and hardened because you know that most of the poor sad faced children that you see on TV are most likely part of a scam, or if not, most of the money goes to “administration."

I like to feel that the money that I spend for aid and health care in the world is actually doing some good. Sometimes the sad little children’s faces that I see on the TV get to me, and my guilt becomes somewhat unbearable. When that happens, I donate a little extra to a club that I belong to, and the funding that I give is actually matched by Bill Gates. I know and trust that ALL the money that I give is actually going to the right place. That is a real salve for my guilt.

You walk into a grocery store and see a can on the counter, “Little Billy needs a liver transplant” or some other expensive malady. You feel horrible, knowing how little that you can really do. As sorry as you feel for little Billy, you know that your children need new shoes and you haven’t even been able to save a thing for their college education. Sometimes I might put some change in the can, knowing full well its not enough to do any good.

I have a friend who’s wife had kidney failure, they had no insurance, but a relative was willing to give a kidney. I don’t know how much the operation cost, but it was well beyond his family’s means. He did a fundraiser, where he raffled off the family car. I bought a few tickets, and my wife bought a few tickets. I discussed it with her, and we both agreed, that if we won it, we would give it back to them. You know that I didn’t win it, luck never works that way when you want it too. I saw him the other day and he told me that his wife would be getting the operation, and he would be “getting his wife back”, as he put it. It was a very warm feeling to know that I was a very small part of that. It was a bitter / sweet reward. Bitter knowing how little that I actually contributed, and sweet that his wife would be getting a new kidney. Then it’s not over yet either. She still has a long walk to the other side of the woods where she can be happy, healthy and whole again. They will be in my thoughts.

As I walk down the street, I am constantly panhandled. I guess I have that guilt stricken look on my face, like I might slide some beggar a buck or two. I admit that I have given some panhandlers money, but I have taken a very strict line of not giving to panhandlers. Some look like they honestly just need the money. Others look like whatever is wrong with then, they did it to themselves.

The rest of my day is distracted with wondering about whether or not the panhandler deserved the money, or if they just playing on my naivety. It somehow makes me angry, I’m not sure if it is anger at myself for not knowing what to do, or anger at the panhandler, for ruining my day. At any rate most people must feel like I do.

I’ve purposely watched people approach a panhandler situation, just to see how they handle it. Some people just open their wallet and hand them money with out even slowing down. Others look them over like they are trying to decide who the money would be more important to, themselves or the panhandler. Other deliver a sermon, give them money and move on. Still, others just give them a lecture and point out that they don’t belong here, they don’t give them any money and they look satisfied with themselves. A group, probably in the majority, remain stone faced and just walk on by.

Quite often people will change sides of the street, mostly I see women do this. I don’t understand it, but they probably don’t spend the rest of the day wondering what they should have done, because they successfully avoided the question. Why can’t men be more like that?

I wonder about the young people that I see in town that follow the concerts. They always look skinny and destitute, but they always seem to come up with the cash to get into whatever concert that they want to get into. Something can be said for their freedom, and lack of responsibility. I always think of Janis Joplin and the song “Me and Bobby Mcgee”, and the part where she says, “Freedom’s just a word for nothing left to lose”. From all outward appearances, it doesn’t look like they have much left to lose. I often think of a post that Kym Kemp did about “just walking by”, where she came across a poor broken-hearted waif begging on the street. She walked by, then started making up stories in her head about the poor girls perceived needs, to the point that she turned around, walked back to her, gave her some money and told her in no uncertain terms, “Call your Mom!”

This is one post where I will accept anonymous comments gladly. I was just wondering how you deal with all of the scams out there. How do you sort out what is right and what is wrong. What is the right thing to do in today’s world, when a lot of people can’t find jobs, and maybe, just maybe, the person on the street is too proud to admit that he can’t find work, and he says that he lives on the street because he likes it.

Hey mister... wanta buy a display stand?

So, as everybody knows, that has been paying attention, Janis and I have been working on a remodel. It appears that we are going to have some left-over gondola roll-around racks. I was going to put them on Craig's list, but I thought that I would put them up here and ask for some honest opinions first. These racks are in fairly good shape, and they would be a good way for a small business to get some nice fixtures in their shops.

We were thinking about selling them for $80.00 per four foot section (Three posts, four panels, and the connector parts) The new roll-around racks are costing us $400.00 dollars each, for comparison . Please note the photo of the bare four foot section. The sections can be added together endlessly. But we only have about 80 feet total.

The red and grey end caps might go for $25.00 each. (Like in the end cap photo)

The two other photos are just typical Gondola arrangements.

The shelves would come with three brackets each, and a 4 foot long sections would sell for one dollar per inch (I.E. a 12” shelf with three brackets= $12.00. A 16” shelf with three brackets= $16.00)

We have a variety of peg hooks available. If you know of anybody that might be interested please have them call us at 707-923-2734

We might sell them by piece, or the whole lot as one. We are not ready yet to sell them. We would be glad to talk to anybody about them. Or you can look at them in all of their glory at 429 Maple Lane in Garberville. This is not an firm offer to sell, but we are going to have to move them out.