Friday, December 23, 2005

Molly and Polly...

This time of year I am reminded of our best friends, the Buhlers. When I say 'our', I mean my entire family. In this picture, from left to right; my mother, my father, my sister Sheila, me (in the chair with the crutch), Allison, behind me, Eddie, my brother, seated beside me, Virginia (the babe in the hat) and Leslie. Chris, their youngest, is not in the picture.

I don't remember how our families met, but we meshed from the first. Leslie and I were a year apart in age, and Sheila, my sister, and Allison were almost the same age. They often dressed alike in clothes made by either my Mother or Virginia. We called them Molly and Polly. The fly in the ointment was the difference in age between my brother and Chris. My brother was the oldest (he was 12) and Chris was the youngest. My mother and Virginia were best friends, and Virginia was my 'Ginny Mom' forever.

We did everything with the Buhlers. This picture is taken in Yosemite National Park. Notice the bubble trailer and the age of the vehicle to the right... We used to go up and camp. We used to go down to Balboa Island as we got older and rent a place for a couple of weeks. It was an interesting study, looking back at it. Don Buhler was the "Let's go camping head out in the woods ocean swim sail surf " whatever kind of guy. He was larger than life and had a laugh and smile to match. I have a picture of him and my mother and Buddy Ebsen in a sailing contest. My father was not allowed to be as active, and, being the more conservative, hard working person that he was, often went home during the week and showed up on the weekends. He probably loved the break from us all, I know that now. We kids thought Don was 'cool' and his kids envied the stability we had. Interesting...

The Buhlers own the ranch I often visit in Oregon. We all went up to see them in 1957.. my father driving that long distance with a station wagon full of bored kids and friends. Poor dad! It was a great trip, tho' and the farthest we ever went from home on vacation as a family.

Oh.. the crutch. Two days into the trip I jumped over a small bridge in a smaller stream and cut open the bottom of my foot. It was such a deep cut that it wouldn't stop bleeding. The closest place to go was a logging camp, and they did what they could do, but I couldn't put any weight on it. A nearby camper, a doctor, I believe, made the crutch for me by splitting a supple branch and putting in a crossbar and 'handle'. I still have the crutch, and can still read where he signed it.

Leslie and I are still very good friends. My sister doesn't see Allison very often. Eddie and Chris haven't seen each other in ... well... a very long time.

but every year, about this time, I think of them... all of them.


Post a Comment

<< Home