Boating (2)

Rose Lake

The first time I got scared in a boat was at Rose Lake. I was still in grade school, and I had gone there with the Johnson's, the W. Gilman's, and I'm not sure who else. (I don't know if my family was there or not.) All I remember was that I had gone to the restroom, and when I came out - everyone was gone except for Paul Johnson and little S. Gilman. Apparently, everyone had gone to the other side of the lake, and we were going by boat.

Now this was not the pontoon boat that I liked to ride in. It was an ordinary cabin cruiser - albeit a smaller one. Once I got in, S G and I sat up in the bow, under some windows and hurriedly put on some life jackets. (Now I always wore a life jacket, even though the other kids thought it was silly. They believed that nothing was ever going to happen, but I didn't want to take any chances.) I helped SG, who was much younger than I - get his life jacket all strapped on, as we were zipping across the lake.

When we got to the other side of the lake, which many of you know - isn't that far, Paul started looping around, and around, and around. He was doing some kind of display for the crowd on the beach, but I was terrified. I thought the boat was going to tip over and we'd be pinned underneath in the bow. I was so dizzy and upset when we stopped, I swore I would NEVER ride in a boat again.


Coeur d'Alene Lake

A few years later, my family was invited by the Carvers to go boating on C d'A lake. I was apprehensive, but figured since my parents were going - that nothing would happen to me.
I thought, I'll give this boating thing another chance. (Can you hear the music from "Jaws"?)

We began our excursion in Harrison, I believe. C. Carver had either rented or borrowed a cabin cruiser from a friend, and the plan was to drive it from Harrison to Coeur d' Alene and back. This one was a bit larger than the previous boat, as it had a small galley in the bow that was a few steps below the deck. There were several seats on the deck and seating in the galley. The Carver's daughter, M, was there as well as her parents, my parents, my sister and I, but M's youngest brother B, may have also been there.

The trip started out pretty good for a boat trip. I don't know if we ever stopped to swim, or if it was a marathon trip (as some men are wont to do. The "Git-R-Done" syndrome.) But C. Carver was drinking and driving the boat, and we were all doing fine for a while. . .(Jaws music). . . Somewhere around Coeur d'Alene, C. was challenged by or did challenge another boater and the race was on. I can't remember if they were just speeding, but it seemed more like a "Game of Chicken." We were careening back and forth across this guy's wake. The water was getting rough already, but this game of chicken was scaring most of us.

Now, my dad is not a confrontational guy, and he may have suggested that C slow things down a bit and consider the women and children. (The children, I being the oldest, were all crying their heads off by this time.) We were pleading with our mothers to stop this mad man from killing us all.

There were a couple of times, that the boat nearly flipped as it caught a wake broadside, in an attempt to turn one way or another. I knew we were gonna die. (We probably didn't have life jackets that day either.) My Mom was sooooo mad! My Dad was mad, too, but there was nothing they could do to stop C Carver from trying to capsize all of us.

Finally, somehow, C decided it was time to get back to Harrison - we still had the full length of the lake to travel, but we got there without capsizing. My sister was so tramatized I don't think she has ever gone near a boat since. I have - but I haven't liked it! My parents both swore that they would never go anywhere with C Carver again.

So now, you know why I don't like boats. I guess, you could say I don't like fast boats with stunt drivers and drunks at the wheel. I am trying to get warmed up to the idea of my husband's speed boat, but it isn't easy.

Boating (1)

Since I drove our boat for the first time last Sunday, I am feeling the need to explain why I am deathly afraid of boating. I didn't start out that way. As a grade school-er, I was often invited to go boating with the Johnson's. They owned my favorite boat of all time. . .a pontoon boat. I don't know when they got it the boat, but I do remember singing songs like "Madelina, Catalina" and other childish ditties with the Johnson girls as we bounded down the road for a boating trip. They used to launch the pontoon boat on one of the lakes on the lower Cd'A river. (It could have been Black Lake or Cave Lake). Once the boat was launched, we would sail up and down the "channels" as they called them from one lake to another.

It wasn't until years later that I realized the "channels" were actually portions of the Coeur d'Alene River that ran between the lakes. I do remember the channels were murky waters, but I also didn't connect this with the "lead" creek in Kellogg, which merged with the "North Fork" to make up the bulk of the Cd'A river.

These boat trips were fun. They were leisurely, and although I had no idea where we were, or where we were going, I had complete confidence in Paul and Dottie's knowledge of the channels.

[Upper picture shows Dottie & Paul on the shore and lower one is close up of the original pic.]

One time we went to Killarney Lake where I finally got to go to "Popcorn Island," a place the Johnson girls raved about, but I had never seen. Paul dropped anchor in the middle of the lake, and the girls and I took turns diving off the mini board and swimming around in the water. I still wore a life preserver, but the older Johnson girls swam well enough they didn't need one.

Popcorn Island

I loved that pontoon boat, and swore if I ever got a boat, that's the kind I'd get. . .(I suppose if I ever have the money to buy a boat of my own - that's what I'll get!)

Where were you? (2)

Sunshine Mine Disaster

I wrote on this a bit earlier, but not in detail. I was a Senior in High School when this tragic event happened in the Silver Valley (then the "Fabulous Valley") of Northern Idaho. It was May 2nd and the Kellogg High School Track team had gone to Post Falls for a track meet. It was our last track meet before Regionals. On the way home, our bus was stopped by a police car on the flats near the Cataldo Mission. At first we thought it was funny that the bus driver got pulled over, but then L. Johnson was removed from the bus and put into the police car. All they told us was that she had to go home right away.

When we got to Pinehurst, where I was dropped off with all the other Pinehurst kids at the school, someone told us there was a fire at Sunshine Mine. (How could there be a fire at the mine? It was all rock and dirt - what could burn? I thought.) I walked on home with my track bag in hand, thinking about the absurdity of a fire at the mine.

When I reached the edge of our driveway, it hit me. . ."Where was MY Dad?" My dad worked at the Sunshine, and so did L. Johnson's dad. . .in fact a lot of people's dad's worked there. As I came through the front door I hollered, "Mom - Where's Dad?"

"He's in bed sleeping." Whew! Then I began to discuss the mine fire rumour with her. It wasn't a rumour - there was actually a fire underground somewhere in the mine. Some men had been killed. Later, on the radio, the first victims were identified. One was L. Johnson's dad.

Now, the Johnson girls had been life-long friends of mine. P. Johnson was my age, and had gotten married and dropped out of school earlier in the year. Her husband worked at Sunshine, also. The Johnson girl's dad, was one of my dad's best friends. They met during WW2. Both of them served on the USS Comfort - a floating hospital ship. Dad was a Medic, Paul Johnson worked in the laundry (He may have done other jobs, but I just remember my dad telling me that Paul used to starch the nurses undies - or something like that.)

Paul had been the one who urged my dad to relocate from Utah to No. Idaho to work in the mines. It was great money for a guy who was willing to work. My dad had first gone to N. Idaho in 1948 - to visit Paul and try out mining. Although, I don't know when Paul & D got married, my dad said it was there relationship that inspired him to find a bride. In 1952, Dad married Mom, and and they honeymooned their way back to N. Idaho where Dad had been working again for at least a year.

Paul & D were very good friends of my parents. I'm not sure if it was planned but all their kids, and all of us kids were born within months of each other. P was one month older than I. My brother Steven was born one month before L, and J. Johnson was born 3 months before my sister R. We grew up together, we played together, we went to school together. We were close.

When we heard that Paul was gone. We mourned. We drove up to see the family. We didn't know what to say. How can you comfort someone when you have never experienced what they are going through? How can I know how they felt - when I still had my dad? It was sooo hard - but a thousand times tougher for them.

Fortunately, P. s husband had made it out alive - barely. He said, someone reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him into the last "skip" (elevator) out of the mine. Otherwise P would have lost both her dad and her husband. (Some women did lose more than one family member).

Everyone was in a state of shock. Life continued on. We had school and graduation. I spent my evenings after school babysitting the children of the people who's loved ones were still unaccounted for. I wanted to do something - anything to help.

Another friend lost her step-dad. She was in the hospital with appendicitis when she found out. We still had track practice. I was a high jumper - (and for those who don't know me, I'm only 52" and I couldn't run very fast). I jumped the highest I had ever jumped in practice that week. I cleared 4' - a new record for me. I was looking forward to Regionals, but I set Regionals aside that year for funerals. Except for Steven's, when I was two - my first ever.

Graduation that year was bitter sweet. Some students had been in a car accident at our Senior party up the river. The valley was in mourning for the miners, and so what if we were graduating? Some people wouldn't be there. Some very important people. Somebody's dad would be missing. . .and missing. . .for a long time. . .

Pinehurst again, summertime (1)

During May of my third grade year, my parents bought a house in Pinehurst. It was on the main street, about a block from the school, and was painted "Battleship Grey." I was excited because most of my life-long friends lived in Pinehurst (or the Bauman Addition across the bridge toward Kingston), and attended the Pinehurst School. Originally my parents had considered buying a lot behind the Johnson's in Bauman Addition, and wanted to build a split level home. Apparently this house was more in their price range, so they bought it. I was a bit disappointed that we weren't going to live as close to the Johnson's, but at least I'd be in school with PJohnson.

In addition to being close to the school, we lived close to everything in Pinehurst. The creek was just down the street a few blocks to the west, and the stores were a few blocks to the east. I could walk or ride my bike to the Caldwells, who lived next to the Post Office, or to the Carver's who lived on 3rd St. across from the school, about a block and a half away.

I spend a lot of my summers playing or hanging out at the school yard up through my eighth grade year. It was the hub of socialization for me and a lot of Pinehurst kids. We rode our bikes all over the school grounds and on the breezeway. We sat on the swings, the merry-go-round, the slides, and the curbs on the breezeway talking and sharing our lives.

Of course I related to you the story about KV and her cousin DB straightening me out on who KV liked and who liked her, lest I try to compete for the same guy. So silly now, that we would be so serious about boys when we were only 9 yrs. old! I really didn't care what she said. I knew that he and I were friends first, and that wouldn't change no matter who came and went.

I looked forward to entering the fourth grade, and was hoping that I would get Mrs. Caldwell for my teacher. PJ got her, but I didn't. I think it was because she was like a grandmother to me, and it would have put each of us in an awkward situation. I didn't have either P Johnson or G Carver in my class as I had hoped, but I became good friends with D Hokanson - who's mother was my second grade teacher at Silver King.

Smelterville Snippets (1)

Ceramics & Crochet

I learned to crochet when I was about 6, and taught my friend PJ to crochet also - even though she was left handed, and I was not. My mom and E. Jerome used to crochet together. At one point, they were working on crochet bedspreads at the same time. Both bedspreads were white with roses on them. Mom's had pink roses and E's had various colored roses. My mom gave her bedspread to R, my sister many years ago. When I inquired about it, almost 15 yrs ago., R said she had it in her shed. She wasn't fond of it, so she gave it to me. It holds a lot of sentimental value for me.

Mom also did a lot of ceramics in Smelterville. She made a lot of ashtrays (some R-rated), and advanced to vases, cookie jars, fruit bowls, and lamps. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to "do ceramics." Mom gave most of her stuff away, and many of her friends used their cookie jars, etc. for years to come.

Debates & True Confessions

I vaguely remember the 1960 Presidential Debates on television - between J. F. Kennedy & R. M. Nixon. The neighbors had the debates on at their house when I went over to visit, and I thought it was the most boring thing I had ever seen on television. (Worse than Beanie & Cecil).

One summer when I was at L. Jerome's place, we went outside to play. She had two older sisters, and the oldest J. was lying on a blanket in the yard, reading True Confessions magazines. I was probably between second and third grade, because I was able to easily read the magazines. I remember reading a story about a teen girl who went to babysit at a home, and discovered there was not wife nor children at the home. The man kept telling her they'd be there soon and if she'd just like to sit on the couch and wait. She felt creepy, and excused herself to the rest room. Once inside, she crawled out of the window and ran home. It wasn't the kind of stuff a girl my age needed to be reading.

Tar Bubbles & Maple Leaves

L. J. and I did a lot of fun stuff together. I remember one of my favorites was picking tar bubbles in the road on Washington St. We weren't supposed to play in the street, but the tar was so cool. When we picked the top off of the bubbles, the inside was a smooth and shiny dip. I don't know why it fascinated me, but it did.

We also used to go to someone's house on the street and jump in their gigantic maple leaf pile in the fall. I'm not sure if I even knew the people, or if we had permission, but I do remember the smell of the leaves and the fun we had.

One time, I was playing with L and her siblings in their garage. The floor was made of dirt, as many garages in those days were and the walls were wooden. I wanted to reach something in the rafters, so I grabbed an old tin can and turned it upside down so I could step on it. Now the can was a bit squished at the top, and it didn't occur to me that it would be unstable. As I climbed up onto the can, it flipped over, and where the top was compressed together into a point - I landed with the back of my thigh. Mom had to take me to the doctor for stitches and a tetnus shot. I used to be able to see the scar, but I can't twist that far now.

Tire Swing & Junk clubhouses

Dad made a tire swing for me at Smelterville. He cut off about 2 thirds of the tire, leaving a rim of rubber around the openings, then he turned the tire inside out and hung it up by the "handles" (parts around the openings). I could sit comfortably inside the tire (on the tracks) and swing to my heart's content. I don't know if he had such a swing when he was young - or if he made up the "pattern," but I have never seen another one like it.

During the time I lived in Smelterville and spent some of my weekend time in Pinehurst, the Carver kids and I used to build "cabins" out of short pieces of 2x4s that the Caldwells had piled out back for their wood stove. (Pieces were probably 2 or 3' long.) We would stack them up Lincoln Log style - but without the notches. When they were finished, we would climb up the outside and over the walls to get inside. One day we made a structure two boards long and one board wide and about 3 and a half feet high. All of us who worked on it climbed inside and pretended we were sardines. Our creativity was cut short, when the older boys built a structure so large it blocked a driveway, and we were told we couldn't build any more.

During the same time, I decided to make my own cabin / clubhouse in Smelterville. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to regular sized lumber, so I improvised. We lived behind a wood working place, and there were differing sizes of scraps and old greyed out boards a tire or two, and maybe a door. I used the menagerie to build several hideouts. One of my favorites utlilized the tire as the entrance around a hole on top of the structure. I loved to climb inside to read or think. I'm not sure who dismantled them, but I think my parents may have been concerned for my safety, and put an end to my creativity.