Sunday, September 25, 2005

A View Up River

A look up the river from the deck of 'my' house (see previous posts). This is a tidal river, and is brackish at times... it sometimes flows UP rather than down!

Not too much to say today. I’m back in my little campground, having spent the better part of the day with an old friend. The lunch we have every visit seems just too short... we need to talk about EVERYTHING and then do a little computer work and there just isn’t enough time. She is my mother’s age, and a little lame (sorry Lois ), and the day drags on both of us towards the end, there’s just so much to say.

What I need to do sometime is come up here after she moves out of our house and into Florence, where she will be in a more accommodating place to live. Just stay somewhere in a motel and then see her for several days in a row if she can stand it. I’d fly into Eugene and come over the mountains (one of the most beautiful drives I know, and I’ve been on a lot of highways and byways). This would be a byway... Then rent a car and just visit with her and help her with her computer and talk until our voices rust. Sounds like a plan.

She and her husband moved up here into the ‘big house’ around 1976, which is when Joe and I traveled around the United States, looking for somewhere we could get along... and that’s DEFINITELY another story for another time. The story sort of goes like this (and forgive me, Lois, if I get it wrong): Her husband, Don was a mover and a shaker, and a very busy and important man. He was also about 6’6” and adorable, but that’s getting away from the subject. They used to come up here to vacation in the little cottage beside the big house and planned to move here when he retired. He came to her one day (in his late 50’s) and said, “I won’t live to 65 at this rate” and they moved up here post haste. At his retirement party all the other movers and shakers came to Lois and said, ‘You can’t make Don do this, he’ll be bored to death!”... she said it wasn’t HER idea (she was a mover and a shaker in her own right). All the men at the retirement party, including my father, died a long time ago, except for one man who came to them and said , “Now WHAT is it you’re doing exactly?” and moved to Grant’s Pass.

So they moved and lived happily in my house for a long time.

I love that story... except for the dead people, of course...

and that’s my tale today...



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