If We Make It Through December

YouTube - Merle Haggard-If We Make It Through December

This song really has some deep rooted meaning for me. I try to go along with the merriment of the season, knowing full well that the only thing to celebrate is the birth of Christ. Seems I'm always expecting some sort of tragedy to fall in the month of December.

Years come and go but somehow I can never shake the memories of loosing the love of my life and the mother of my children just days before the big season in 1976. I'm kinda like chicken little waiting for the sky to fall. Oh, sure there have been many joyful times since then and I've been blessed with new and extended families but the beast of past never leaves my mind. This year is starting out kinda bah hum bug, not only is the economy bad, a granddaughter who is

expecting is having difficulties carrying and a grandson was just rushed to the hospital with appendicitis.

Wouldn't it be nice to turn back the years and leave all the worries behind? Being a kid in Colorado and the only thing to worry about was how to keep warm. I didn't even mind getting frost bite while searching for just the right tree to chop down or gathering pine cones to make wreaths to ship to sunny California folks.

Here's wishing all my friends , family and readers of this blog, a joyous season and a Happy New Year. My wish for all is good health, peace and love shared to one another.

Looking Back

On my last trip to Pagosa while trying to re-trace landmarks where I once enjoyed nature in its glory, my heart was crushed to find nothing resembled those special places. The place where I once skinny dipped with friends had been transformed into a place for tourist to pollute the river and build condos along the river bank. "Cotton's Hole" as we knew it was not longer a place for youngsters to learn to swim, spear mud suckers with hand made willow spears and pocket knifes or steal a first kiss from the girl next door.

Mesa Heights as I knew it decades ago gave many youngsters a thrill parking on the hill overlooking the town,listening to some romantic tune while embrassing your sweetheart. This hilltop now is a serene setting for some lucky homeowners to have a daily
view of the beauty down below. The sawmill that once provided much employment to the area is long gone. The smoke from its smoke stake could be seen from the top this hill. This was where highway 160 and 89 separated and was also a favorite parking place for teenage lovers.


While visiting and reminiscing I was thrilled to enjoy sharing an evening of bingo with folks from my era, even got to meet one of my old school teachers there. My brother being very active in the local American Legion helps with the activities there. I was amazed to find the old building so well kept but my mind kept having flash backs of the days that building was the local Teen Canteen, home of the duck tail haircuts, saddle shoes and poodle skirts.

The Reason for the Season

Once again old father time has marched into the land of young just to remind us all that our time here is only on borrowed time and the only insurance for longevity is to love one another.
With the economy being on the down side, I ventured out into the local shopping mall to attempt putting a gift or two under the tree. What would have been a nerve wrecking trip in past was quite pleasant. Since I am not the only penny pincher looking for a bargain, the other souls though few, seemed in good spirits. The few things I managed to find worthy of resting under a beautifully decorated tree, I would have been embarrassed to claim in years past.
Reading scriptures related to advent and the coming of the real reason for the season I was taken back in time with my thoughts. Remembering when Christ was really the center of festivities and decorations, and local merchants greeted with a "Merry Christmas" and political correctness was never considered with Happy Holiday replacing the birth of Christ.
Growing up in a poor family in Colorado, only two Christmas's stand out. One was a year when my most treasured gift was a basket of fresh fruit, the other was a time I got a Roy Rogers outfit complete with guns and holsters. Expensive gadgets escaped my youth and I seemed to have survived, living with a land line telephone, a Philco radio with laughter and suspense coming out of speakers that only my mind could visualize, a brownie Kodak camera, a 35 cent movie ticket or a gallon of gas for about the same price.
As years have come and gone I tried to instill some the values of life handed down to me into my own children, but like the pied piper of stuff they have all fallen in line and at times I'm sure have forgotten the real reason for the season.
When driving down the road in the comfort of our shiny automobiles and burning $3:00 gas and seeing some poor soul standing in freezing weather on the corner with a cup in hand. do we curse and say what a lazy bum or do we wonder if maybe he just lost his job or had his home forclosed. Perhaps the change in our pockets could put a little nurisment in a belly or help find a warm place to sleep on the eve of the reason for the season

Thankfull?

With a turkey and all the trimmings on the table this day of Thanksgiving I had to pause and think just what in the heck am I really thankful for. After eight plus years this country is still fighting wars in foreign lands, the rich are getting richer, the poor getting poorer, jobs have disappeared, rents are too high, banks are closing, crime is rising, yet there must be something to be thankful for!
After filling my belly from a bountiful feast that I will surely hate myself at next months bill paying time for. I looked back into my memory bank and realized how truly blessed I am and gave thanks to the lord above and asked for forgiveness for being so negative. Lets see now, I am thankful for surviving a near death event, for my three wonderful daughters, a loving wife, a roof over my head (as long as I can pay rent) most of all for all the love I receive from my family and friends.
While traveling down my memory lane I recall that Thanksgiving seldom meant a Turkey on the table for my family, we were lucky to get a Chicken. My most memorable Thanksgiving was in the 1950's when a family friend who owned a mom and pop store in Pagosa Springs , invited me to go with him on a hunt for a Turkey. This was not a hunt in the super market but an actual hunt in the woods. After hours of trying to quietly stalk though the leaves on the ground without making a sound my teeth were chattering from the cold, I was hoping to just go home and settle for a chicken. Mr. Whitefield began blowing into some sort of gadget that sounded like a turkey gobbling and soon we heard a real turkey answer back. Well, we got our turkey and that was the first Thanksgiving I remember eating turkey on this wonderful holiday.

God Bless Our Vets

Each year at this time when Veterans day rolls around it brings memories of the days I served. I was lucky never to have seen combat but like to think I was well trained and prepared if the time came when I would be called to lay down my life. The photo here is the wooden hull minesweeper that I called home for four years. Although my time aboard the "Reaper" was during the cold war, there were times when we had our nerves rattled a little. Once while patrolling the waters near Korea we were able to blow up a mine left from the Korean conflict and one time while practicing maneuvers with the Chinese, their air force mistook our mine sweeping gear as targets and began firing at us. There was always the issue of weather and rough seas like typhoon Emma that almost destroyed our sister ship in Japan and as we rode out the storm we lost our mast and fuel stored in barrels on the fan tail.
Now the sea legs have become land grabbers and shades of Grey have crept up on the top, my chest has fallen into my drawers but my pride has only grown deeper for those young men and women who are giving it all for our freedom. Its not only those youngsters who as so dedicated but the older vets of the American Legion and VFW who give there time and talents to aid their fellow man. One of those dedicated souls is my brother who, although he had to end his Naval career with the loss of a leg still devotes most his time to helping veterans and his local American Legion.

>THIS OLD HOUSE

This old house was not just lumber and nails it was a treasure chest that held the memories of pioneers, teachers, Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters, yes it was my treasure chest. A place where ear aches were cured with warm towels warmed in a cast iron stove and gently stoked with the hands of a worried Mother. A place where real buried treasure was found between the many layers of wall covering and early tokens from local merchants of days when the stagecoach rolled across the San Juan's, lay in the ground underneath. The old chicken coup also held its own treasures, found between the walls was a 1879 Springfield rifle barrel without the stock.
This was a gathering place for high school boys and girls to bring their friends and be part of our family. No one ever need worry about a place to warm their hands on a cold snowy day or place to lay their head to rest as long as the Willett's lived there.
A room in back served as my Dad's printing shop, a place where he felt at peace no matter the time of day. For a time there was a chicken coup out back but gave way to a place to park a car, called a garage. As young boy, I once thought it would be brave to steal a chicken or two but figured the safest hunt would be in my own back yard. Dad told me years later of watching my antics from the window upstairs. Once he even watched me attempt to get out of a ditch in front where new water pipes were being laid, he never told my Mother of his drunk son trying to get home.
Christmas in the 1950's and 60's were always filled with joy around this old house. Months and years of Mother and Dad searching and designing just the right yard decoration to put in the yard for the enjoyment of all who passed by always brought some new excitement to Lewis street. Nothing was put out that was not hand made except for the lighting.
The old house became quite lonely as time passed, my brothers and I all became sons of Uncle Sam and set out to protect this country from what ever evil lurked. Even though the folks were left alone they always found some one in need of place to stay and took in a young girl to live with them until she finished high school.
Seeing the changes that have taken place leaves very little resemblance to the place I grew up, its amazing what money can do, my only regret is that my parents never reached the mountain top of wealth to enjoy the grandeur in their last years.
The old home is now a bed and breakfast, listed on the web as www.lewisand4th.com,

Rocky Mountian High

It was nice to return my roots not as a disgruntled ex resident but as a tourist out to enjoy the beauty of this wonderful country. One of the reasons I wanted to venture back to the San Juan mountains of Colorado was visit my older brother and to visit the family plot where my other brother was recently laid to rest.
Our first night on the road found us in Flagstaff AZ where after feasting on some of the best home cooking at the Cracker Barrel restaurant we settled in at the near by Econo Lodge. The following day we stopped by the four corners monument to take a few snapshots of the place where four states meet. We were then on our way to Durango Co. where we were looking forward to an adventure of riding the narrow guage railroad train to Silverton.
Although I had ridden the train many years ago I really didn't recollect what was in store on the journey. It was a cool fall morning as we waited along with all the other tourists to board a train back into the past. We were seated in a car named the "San Juan" witch was really appropriate for this area. AS the old train whistle began to sound the departure and the smoke and steam began to rise, our anxiety also rose. The old locomotive slowly pulled away and headed out towards the mountains with a back and forth motion that would shake our insides for another three hours.
Like so many others aboard our eyes were focused on all the splendor of the changing colors of the landscape. With our cameras snapping as many scenes as we could capture, each mile became more beautiful. As the old train made its way along the mountain wall with rivers and gorges below we were at awe how such a feat could be accomplished to lay the tracks in such a place.
The little of town Silverton was a bustling place, awaiting the arrival of all the tourist to spread their money around. Since only a two hour lay over is allotted between train departures the local restaurants witch appear to be many are rushing to feed the hungry travelers.
Our next adventure took us to my home town roots of Pagosa Springs. The little town I once called home was now a city with all the amenities of any large city along with price tag. Our old home is now a Bed and Breakfast, its a beautiful place now with hardly any resemblance of the past. We enjoyed visiting with family and touring the area, even took photos of deer that have decided its better to live in town. My brother is very much involved with the American Legion and we took in a bingo game with him where he was charge of the concessions.