tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2301597475048755942024-02-28T15:42:54.874-08:00Just For My BoysA place for stories about my family, friends and me. There are also jokes, observations, thoughts I have, memories and ideas I wish to share with my two wonderful sons, James & John.Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-74673333625801378982020-02-12T20:02:00.000-08:002020-02-12T20:05:31.051-08:00Rhyming GameOur whole family were driving on Hwy 48, north of Englewood. I must have been about 20, because my sister Kym was with us and participating in our conversations, so she must have been at least six or seven. Dad was driving and we were playing a game.<br />
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Someone would see an object, say its name and the next person would have to rhyme and so on, each taking a turn until someone was stumped.<br />
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House, mouse, blouse, etc. Tree, fee, bee ... street, feet, meet ...<br />
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Then it was my turn and I saw a little pond with some birds swimming on it and said, "Duck!" One of your aunts said, "Buck!" and another quickly chimed in with "luck!"<br />
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Then Dad said, "Let's play a different game."Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-54703981413828158802020-02-12T20:00:00.002-08:002021-09-11T08:32:06.832-07:00Skiing - 2020<span style="font-size: large;">I started skiing in February 1968, during my Senior year in high school, with the Vandalia-Butler HS Ski Club. I continued skiing through college, mostly with other VBHS alums - Brothers Rick ('66) & Steve Schieltz ('68), their cousin Larry Schieltz ('68), George Moore ('68) & Terry Caudill ('69).</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqkl2QIROR2l-vhC_N8hzyHw8AIEWtnidtPVmlkmHhJ6NUXzM9w2SGGWVRrx1PmF29kfwLHmb6l42EglDtDUFJ_qsHCZ7f8rMtsoRcZfbxpvs5Yc9i3z5Z99GJIE60EhfrtP705pWF5k/s1600/2547584_o.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqkl2QIROR2l-vhC_N8hzyHw8AIEWtnidtPVmlkmHhJ6NUXzM9w2SGGWVRrx1PmF29kfwLHmb6l42EglDtDUFJ_qsHCZ7f8rMtsoRcZfbxpvs5Yc9i3z5Z99GJIE60EhfrtP705pWF5k/s320/2547584_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me - Lookout Pass 2020</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Somewhat surprisingly, as of 2020 most of us are still skiing regularly. George is on the ski patrol at his local area in Michigan.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Rick is active with the patrol at Mad River Mountain near Bellefontaine, Ohio.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Larry at Boyne Mountain, Michigan circa 1980.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Terry is a ski instructor at Terry Peak in South Dakota.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Terry at Terry Peak, South Dakota - 2020</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George at Killington, Vermont - March 1970</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKDU3vqg5dS8Z_EDwgtAEBF5Ncz7I_T3cza2KJR4S5bVZYga7045fGD9E79aRMgbTxA0axdNT4QRGSyxP5nftchTfEv7DkdxOToqFCNp5kiU-67oigbEiAW_O-ty8f5WAwG0irY88f8c/s1600/SteveBreck70.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKDU3vqg5dS8Z_EDwgtAEBF5Ncz7I_T3cza2KJR4S5bVZYga7045fGD9E79aRMgbTxA0axdNT4QRGSyxP5nftchTfEv7DkdxOToqFCNp5kiU-67oigbEiAW_O-ty8f5WAwG0irY88f8c/s320/SteveBreck70.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve at Breckenridge, Colorado - December 1970</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm the ski school Technical Director at Lookout Pass Ski Resort on the Idaho-Montana border. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Steve's career took him to Florida, but he still skis recreationally whenever he gets the chance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We lost Larry in the spring of 2019, but he patrolled and taught at Mad River Mountain for many years and was for some time their Ski Patrol Director.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VkZwd3AJNqA6P_D3aa9KPNA7e39uGkglxLm3-7oFk-QgEWIEHXsllYLdN1TgKiXJcBCVSF8l_S0ZjIKGHssL9_H6_7Jt0P6sN81zJVKNvxki74Ng_w3YEDiDyWQRdMVE6J76raEcYjs/s1600/9058_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VkZwd3AJNqA6P_D3aa9KPNA7e39uGkglxLm3-7oFk-QgEWIEHXsllYLdN1TgKiXJcBCVSF8l_S0ZjIKGHssL9_H6_7Jt0P6sN81zJVKNvxki74Ng_w3YEDiDyWQRdMVE6J76raEcYjs/s320/9058_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rick with daughter Jenny at Mad River Mountain, Ohio - 2016<br />
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Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-3501448868799907522019-07-30T10:40:00.003-07:002020-06-28T20:11:43.459-07:00Cars<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1954 Dodge - Hemi! - Purchased used in 1968 - Sold 1968</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8_x3IYvKNA9a2J3mL2glRClSmkLFZAcul83lCj7kNujS4sx17C4aXkXkvCfk80Goy_1DCLI3WqehE_8qT20_AQy4929_9b3jGuOdcyM6Ft1jFOa-0Nho_uM3bgIhu7JMh-jyoVB3f78I/s1600/K-Ghia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1600" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8_x3IYvKNA9a2J3mL2glRClSmkLFZAcul83lCj7kNujS4sx17C4aXkXkvCfk80Goy_1DCLI3WqehE_8qT20_AQy4929_9b3jGuOdcyM6Ft1jFOa-0Nho_uM3bgIhu7JMh-jyoVB3f78I/s200/K-Ghia.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1964 VW Karmann Ghia - only convertible I've ever</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">owned. - Purchased used in 1968 - Sold in 1969</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqN3w8x7NAjnCrVCgmKUDr0zblQdwJ1gCvpyNM_byH2knO-Farkqgh6MdUxDZiCrrQON551mmaRCZuFBAHnUgcFD6LeC4iujVipRHWJ68iiTgujsni63eVXlPGw7yDJ6Cc0w-6rrXEY/s1600/z-2869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1274" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqN3w8x7NAjnCrVCgmKUDr0zblQdwJ1gCvpyNM_byH2knO-Farkqgh6MdUxDZiCrrQON551mmaRCZuFBAHnUgcFD6LeC4iujVipRHWJ68iiTgujsni63eVXlPGw7yDJ6Cc0w-6rrXEY/s200/z-2869.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 - definitely a car I </span><span style="font-size: small;">wished I still</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">totaled it. It was repaired, but was </span><span style="font-size: small;">never the</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">same. - Purchased new in 1969 - Sold in 1971</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1971 Chevrolet Vega - still upset by Z/28 accident</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and also looking for better gas mileage - Purchased</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">new in 1971 - Sold in 1973</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1973 Chevrolet Camaro - Purchased new in 1973 - Sold in 1976</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">1975 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1975 - Sold in 1978</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1976 Honda XL125 motorcycle - purchased new in 1976 - sold in 1992.</span></td></tr>
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1978 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1978 - Sold in 1981</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">1981 Chevrolet Chevette - Purchased new in 1981 - Sold in 1984</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">1978 Ford Courier - Purchased used in 1984 - Sold in 1985</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1984 Mazda RX-7 - Purchased used in 1985 - Sold in 1985</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: inherit; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">1966 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - 327 4-speed - Purchased</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: inherit; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">used in 1986 - Sold in 1995 Letting this excellent</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-align: left;"> condition</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-align: left;">truck go was one of the worst decisions I ever made.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-align: left;">It was just a few years before it became a classic.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGFUTabOcQFU8SJP6RPkZDr34ZXbHz__aZhrdM-cxuLHOHTl0kyfjGKZ1f9Xdp8YRSwXHVNtiXJ0vMkDn9KxEasWuWwWFn5XZq9jpDMJ-rpl3xfqqKpqvDPqphyphenhyphensSxOD4anb-2zDxKXo/s1600/Supra2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="1600" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGFUTabOcQFU8SJP6RPkZDr34ZXbHz__aZhrdM-cxuLHOHTl0kyfjGKZ1f9Xdp8YRSwXHVNtiXJ0vMkDn9KxEasWuWwWFn5XZq9jpDMJ-rpl3xfqqKpqvDPqphyphenhyphensSxOD4anb-2zDxKXo/s320/Supra2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1984 Toyota Supra - Purchased used in 1988 - Sold in 1989</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1984 Toyota Tercel Station Wagon 4x4 - Purchased<br />used in 1990 - Sold in 1997</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">1997 Chevrolet S10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1997 - Sold in 2016</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2009 Ford Ranger - Purchased used in 2019</td></tr>
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Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-65065133560784448692018-05-30T20:27:00.000-07:002020-02-12T20:08:45.346-08:00Can You Read Cursive?"Beware the Ides of March!"<br />
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This letter is from my best friend, Larry Schieltz, sent in 1970. He was a student at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. It was mailed just a few days before we left on our very first ski trip to a real mountain - Killington in Vermont. The "Bond flick" he mentions at the end was "On Her Majesty's Secret Service."<br />
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Click the image to get an easier to read blowup. <br />
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<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-50582061053033150902018-05-21T12:13:00.001-07:002018-06-01T20:02:15.162-07:00Wow! This is my lucky day!This is a short, but very cute story that always tickles me when I remember it. The people involved were dear friends who I shared many good times with. However, I'm not sure I'm a good enough writer to accurately convey its humor and poignancy.<br />
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In about 1983 I was the assistant director of the ski school at China Peak Ski Area. One day I was skiing with my good friend Mary Dawn.<br />
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As you can see from the photo Mary Dawn was very pretty, she's also nearly six feet tall. If you were male and had a pulse, you'd probably notice her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Dawn about 1983.</td></tr>
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So, Mary Dawn and I finished a run and got in line to go back up the chairlift. As we were waiting our turn our friend Spencer, a fellow instructor, joined the line. For some now long forgotten reason, I wanted to talk to Spencer about something.<br />
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But the chairlift we were taking was a double - only two persons could ride together - so I turned to Mary Dawn and told her that I was going to ride with Spencer.<br />
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At almost that exact moment, Brook, a nice young instructor, also joined the line.<br />
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Brook was in his first year on the ski school. He was a bit shy and still trying to find his place in the mildly competitive and modestly ego-driven world of ski instructors. He had not yet developed the typical instructor's "too cool to be cool" demeanor.<br />
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I yelled over to him, "Brook, I'm riding up with Spencer, why don't you ride with Mary Dawn?"<br />
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Brook looked at her, and Mary Dawn, who is one of the friendliest people you could ever meet, gave him a big smile and said hello. Brook looked back at Spencer and me and said, "Wow! This is my lucky day!"<br />
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That's all there is to it. I hope you can use your imagination to understand why I remember this incident so fondly.Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-3566801077789773862015-05-26T14:42:00.001-07:002018-11-02T13:04:06.290-07:00How Dad Quit Smoking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGIhHPVv6JDd-bad0YbKV92x9_UKPDdvuDZBbxZLkslvLhUGoziCidmACB4lHfNbZmfURMaEfPHXCD3_9KfvX1YmlB6icXYgASt6XxRZyU1jFu5Fh57b0t-00j9UnOIAG0ZOhIMXqrWM/s1600/tlbike64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGIhHPVv6JDd-bad0YbKV92x9_UKPDdvuDZBbxZLkslvLhUGoziCidmACB4lHfNbZmfURMaEfPHXCD3_9KfvX1YmlB6icXYgASt6XxRZyU1jFu5Fh57b0t-00j9UnOIAG0ZOhIMXqrWM/s320/tlbike64.jpg" width="249" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My Dad started smoking in his late teens, as was common with young men of his generation. He usually smoked <i>Lucky Strikes</i>, which was a popular, "<i>manly</i>" cigarette, known for (and valued due to) its high tar and nicotine.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dad stopped smoking sometime in the mid-60's. As I remember, it was a year or two after we moved to Stonequarry Road. He did not make a big deal out of it, or even mention it. Someone noticed and asked. At the time, we all (Mom, my sisters and other family and friends) just figured he decided that it was bad for his health and an unnecessary expense.</span></span><br />
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Lucky Strike/Means Fine Tobacco</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it turned out there was more to the story.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I suspect that it's probably nearly impossible for youngsters to believe, but in those days you could buy a pack of cigarettes from a vending machine.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remembering this, I realize that it was very odd that these machines existed as parents would send their kids to the store for cigarettes, but only if they gave them a note to show to the cashiers. And the cigarettes were stored in a location that was not accessible to customers - you had to ask for them.<br /><br />Perhaps the machines were not considered a problem as they were usually only located in places where children were not commonly present, like bars, workplaces, bowling alleys, veterans' organizations, gas stations and suchlike.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-BsHymYHefkyWM09swfacd0KnO77pSBJJKSZDBg6tzE-zLLi4VFmvLqCyKSnUFmSpMDTDAy6YdkSQHlstkUTJF3EmWx1rOZoFkKDLO4V3hakPfC2JGSjP6RY82VjWsIKJlAWLdkzcik/s1600/cvm-1m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-BsHymYHefkyWM09swfacd0KnO77pSBJJKSZDBg6tzE-zLLi4VFmvLqCyKSnUFmSpMDTDAy6YdkSQHlstkUTJF3EmWx1rOZoFkKDLO4V3hakPfC2JGSjP6RY82VjWsIKJlAWLdkzcik/s320/cvm-1m.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /><br />And cigarettes were really cheap in those days too. When I first became aware of their cost, I'm pretty sure that they were 25₵ a pack. Yes, just a quarter.<br /><br />OK, so what's all this got to do with Dad and how he quit smoking? I think this story says a lot about Dad's personality - his pride, his determination and his resolve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In 1968, after I got out of High School and started college, I got a job working at Delco-Moraine, a GM factory that mostly manufactured brake and transmission parts. It was the same place where Dad was a manager in charge of production lines which made most of the disc-brake parts used in GM vehicles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Working there I got to know many of Dad's friends, co-workers and employees. One guy I really liked was named Ruben. Ruben was a jobsetter - his duties were to relieve other workers, do minor repairs and help out when someone's station backed up or they had some problem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Talking to Ruben one day the subject of smoking came up and Ruben asked me, "Did you ever hear the story of how your Dad quit smoking?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I was unaware that there was any "story" associated with Dad quitting and said so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So Ruben tells me:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One day your Dad and I were talking.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br />And, in the course of this conversation, one or the other of us says, "Hey, I need a pack of cigarettes." The other says, "Me too."<br /><br />So we walked over to the vending machine. Arriving there, we discovered that they had just raised the price of a pack from 25₵ to 30₵.<br /><br />"G-d d-mn it!" your Dad says, "I'm not paying 30₵ for an f-ing pack of cigarettes!"<br /><br />Reasonably, I replied, "But Bill, what choice do you have?" I laughed, "What are you going to do? Stop smoking?"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>"H-ll, yes." your Dad replied, "I'll quit. I'm not paying 30₵ for a d-mn pack of cigarettes!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So I went back to our Department and told the rest of the guys, "Hey everybody, guess what? Locker's going to quit smoking because they raised the price a nickel!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>We laughed and laughed. Everyone was teasing him. One guy started a pool about how long he'd last. For a dollar you could pick the date you thought he'd start up again.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>But he never did.</i></span></div>
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Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-79190421233315443222014-12-22T14:19:00.003-08:002015-01-03T09:37:28.851-08:00Merry Christmas!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-14719929080937639852014-12-19T10:58:00.004-08:002020-04-03T09:21:50.135-07:00I Must Be In The Front Row!Older folk may remember this Beer Commercial. These were broadcast in the late 80's and were very popular. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Uecker">Bob Uecker</a> was the star of many of them. After this commercial came out, "I Must Be In The Front Row!" became a sort of catchphrase indicating self-importance.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8P0V07mUIiUyCmRnQEo2TVbH5YARzKJQKVnzxf9HiRJjHBw1yGRyTGrovI1MJdjKmt9HLxh0qMmBc65sPaTtyRSAhobJKD5IbTLgPCCBrdop7zEdYKuN-uZfcmCfMux8USnYY0Ssbnzw/s1600/dodgers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">If you've watched the clip you've seen that he was not given a seat in the front row, the seats he was moved to were often called the nosebleed seats then, but are now frequently called "Uecker Seats."</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">In 1984 I went to a game at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dodger_Stadium">Dodger Stadium</a>. We sat very close to the exact seats that Uecker sat in during this commercial, which looks to me like it was filmed in Dodger Stadium.</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">A remarkable thing about this game was that we saw <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Baseball_Hall_of_Fame_and_Museum">Hall-of-Fame</a> Member <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Carlton">Steve Carlton</a> hit a tremendous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_slam_(baseball)">Grand Slam Homer</a> off of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fernando_Valenzuela">Fernando Valenzuela</a>, a perennial <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_League_Baseball_All-Star_Game">All-Star</a> and a very fine pitcher.</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">I happened to be keeping score at this game and here are the scoresheets. I highlighted Carlton's Grand Slam.</span></div>
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<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-79261486247863498152014-09-11T10:18:00.000-07:002017-11-20T17:58:08.430-08:00November 22, 1963<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Friday</span>, November 22, 1963 at about 1:30 o’clock pm (in Ohio where I was) I was in the 8<sup>th</sup> grade in Sister Stella’s class at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vandalia,_Ohio">St. Christopher’s School</a> when we heard the phone ring. In addition to being our classroom teacher, Sister Stella was also the Principal. Since there was usually no one in the Principal's Office, Dick Meyers, who sat by the door, was assigned to go answer the phone when it rang (which wasn’t often).</div>
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We were in Art Class at the time and we were creating mosaics by cutting up colored construction paper into “confetti” and then pasting them onto a background to form an image. I was attempting to create a Thanksgiving turkey (ready to be served, not strutting around the barnyard). </div>
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Dick returned from the office a few minutes later and said, “I don’t know, it was some crazy lady. I couldn’t understand what she was saying.”</div>
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Moments later the phone rang again. Dick trudged off to the office again. When he returned he looked a little pale and while he briefly glanced at us sitting in the room, he directed his comments to Sister Stella saying, “This lady says the President has been shot. I think you better talk to her.”</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My November 22, 1963 classmates</td></tr>
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Sister Stella left the room. She returned to tell us that President John F. Kennedy had been shot. She notified the other classrooms and staff and then put the radio on over the PA. Not long afterwards his death was announced.</div>
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I was a member of the “Safety Patrol” who worked as crossing guards. When school let out at about 2:30pm I remember so many of the girls crying as they walked home.</div>
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Kennedy was sort of “our President” since he was the first (and so far only) Catholic President and of course he was also Irish, like lots of the students, so his death hit many of the children very hard.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Readers – thanks for visiting. I would really appreciate it if you would please leave your own stories (if you have them) about these events in the comments.</span></div>
Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-776848440367312512014-09-11T10:11:00.002-07:002015-09-24T09:31:52.659-07:00December 7 , 1941<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7Aea_CrqfAlGSp3MCnVJttAl_F9u24eX1-v18pt8TDDxhIQ85VkSgwR2z8wXDMN4_5tzatb7NExyaMH3C96FXbJCBBCmioaMcyXxuUqxFSZJ1dDSbE0tZgwhaGf7rGSkDoyBdnk_c3Q/s1600/pearl-harbor-attack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7Aea_CrqfAlGSp3MCnVJttAl_F9u24eX1-v18pt8TDDxhIQ85VkSgwR2z8wXDMN4_5tzatb7NExyaMH3C96FXbJCBBCmioaMcyXxuUqxFSZJ1dDSbE0tZgwhaGf7rGSkDoyBdnk_c3Q/s320/pearl-harbor-attack.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: large;">Pearl Harbor</span> was attacked on Sunday December 7, 1941, well before I was born, but both my Mom & Dad remembered it.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Mom & Dad were both 12 at the time. </span>It was about 1:00 o’clock pm in the eastern US where both Mom & Dad were, when the attack occurred.</div>
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<span lang="EN">Dad was at the farm of a family friend between Gibson & Kellenburger roads in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phoneton,_Ohio">Phoneton, Ohio</a>. He and the son of the family who owned the farm had been riding horses that morning. They’d put the horses away and were walking back towards the house when the boy’s Father came out and told them. Sometime since then the farm became a nine-hole par-3 golf course (now defunct) called Willow Pond. So the area has changed a lot, but the buildings were still there in late 2009. Dad used to comment that, “Right there at the corner of that barn was where I heard about Pearl Harbor.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Mom was at home at 151 Clark Avenue in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chelsea,_Massachusetts">Chelsea, Massachusetts</a>. After Mass they came home and she and Aunt Eileen were playing. Daddy Con went down to the local Pub for an ale and talk. He wasn’t gone long when he came back and told them about the attack.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaiian Division Emblem</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN">Our relative who had the most vivid memories of Pearl Harbor was of course, cousin Vernon “Bud” Hale, who served with the US Army’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hawaiian_Division_%28United_States%29">Hawaiian Division</a>. He was at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schofield_Barracks">Schofield Barracks</a> in Hawaii on December 7th, 1941.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Readers – thanks for visiting. I would really appreciate it if you would please leave your own stories (if you have them) about these events in the comments.</span></div>
Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-74090484487677527832014-01-31T11:30:00.001-08:002016-08-30T13:54:43.025-07:00Accident Report<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8YpvBxS9uDqNd2MW9X5GIVyFHkWFwE3X2BNZE9mZG3H13WDlTJ9cpZqAxM4bDGjcCPjXRb_q0xeq59yQuBZZT1hBvIZj-wyY_iZALcTKyaO4ASouy3GCoTBvK4ru6tYiaBh0iXuJlnU/s1600/75046_30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8YpvBxS9uDqNd2MW9X5GIVyFHkWFwE3X2BNZE9mZG3H13WDlTJ9cpZqAxM4bDGjcCPjXRb_q0xeq59yQuBZZT1hBvIZj-wyY_iZALcTKyaO4ASouy3GCoTBvK4ru6tYiaBh0iXuJlnU/s1600/75046_30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forest Supervisor<span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Inyo National Forest</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">873 N. Main Street</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bishop, California<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>93515</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thomas Locker</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Casa Vieja Guard Station</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Inyo National Forest</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">August 9, 1979</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dear Sir,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am writing in response to your request
for additional information in Block 13 of the CA-1 (Federal Employee’s Notice
of Traumatic Injury and Claim for Continuation of Pay/Compensation). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put “bad decisions” as the cause of my
accident. You asked for a fuller explanation and I trust the following details
will be sufficient.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On the day of the accident, I was providing
logistic support to an Environmental Analysis Team analyzing options for
cheatgrass reduction in the Red Rock Creek drainage near Jordan Hot Springs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My assignment was to pack the Team’s supplies
and equipment on a mule string.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We arrived at Jordan at about 1500
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My assistant packer, Bill
Schofield, and several members of the Team unsaddled the horses and removed the
mules’ packs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hobbled the animals for
the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we planned to continue on
to Redrock Meadows the next morning we only took that evening’s supplies from
the packs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After cooking dinner and
finishing cleanup, since there had been reports of considerable bear activity
in the vicinity, Packer Schofield climbed a nearby tree and looped a rope over
a branch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hoisted the packs, which
contained surveying and scientific equipment as well as food, about 50 feet
above the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After this the rest of the party went
down to the hot springs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remained in
camp by myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had planned to finish
a book I had brought along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately I had forgotten to take it out of the pack before
hoisting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that the total weight
of the packs we had hoisted up was about 400 lbs. and that I could not lower
and raise them by myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to use
one of the mules.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After refastening the hoisting rope with
a slip knot, I scooped a few oats into my hand and went towards the
pasture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Vudu” was the closest mule and
I quickly enticed her with reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
was probably not the wisest choice as Vudu can often be skittish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After untying the hobbles, I wrapped the
bitter end of the hoisting rope around her chest, tying a loop just behind the
forelegs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then pulled the slipknot
loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The packs dropped about two or
three feet, taking the slack out of the rope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sudden tug and the rattling of cans and equipment spooked Vudu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She began to run, kicking and bucking
until the packs snagged against their supporting branch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point I would say that the mule
panicked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bucking became extremely
violent and the loop I’d tied around her chest slipped back to her belly and
rear legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next couple of kicks
freed her from the rope and the packs began to fall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Knowing the value of some of the
equipment in the packs, I grabbed the rapidly moving rope, in the process
tangling my left foot in the line.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I weigh about 150 lbs, the packs about
400 lbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I realized that I would
not be able to stop the packs, I released the rope. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine my surprise at being jerked off the
ground by the tangles around my leg.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid
rate up towards the supporting branch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At about 25 feet, I met the packs, which were now proceeding downward at
an equally impressive speed. This explains the broken right ankle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowed only slightly by this impact, I
continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the packs hit the ground, leaving
me hanging momentarily by my right leg approximately 45 feet in the air.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Unfortunately, when the packs hit the
ground, the cord tying them together snapped, freeing all the packs save one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now devoid of the weight of most of the packs,
only approximately 50 lbs. remained at the other end of the rope. As my weight was now
greater, I began a rapid descent back
towards the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In about 25 feet, I encountered the remaining
pack on its upward journey. This accounts for the broken tooth, several lacerations of my arms and upper
body and the partially detached ear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here my luck changed slightly. The
encounter with the attached pack seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries
when I fell into the pile of packs and suffered only three cracked vertebrae.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am sorry to report, however, that as I
lay there on the pile of packs, in pain, barely able to move, I lost my
composure and presence of mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I untangled
the rope from around my now-broken ankle and lay there watching the pack begin its journey
back down upon me. This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions and the
broken collar bone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I hope this explanation adequately answers
your inquiry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.snopes.com/humor/letters/bricks.asp">For further reading on this subject see:</a> </span></div>
Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-36844480609859181292014-01-30T10:37:00.000-08:002014-02-03T19:06:02.568-08:00My Eighth Grade Class - St. ChrisThis is my Eighth grade class at St. Christopher School 1963-1964.<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10201039047878405&set=a.4471904875757.1073741825.1233943860&type=1&theater">Follow this link to Larry Youngblood's Facebook Post: </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidozsUcOdS6XWpqKSfw3H302j48Hx-Hw-sYKK-U9fPlfuGAWL_VMEAdN4lruO4slhWcKfyOSNt3BBxM2bvfnG_8DlrQysGNoTN4RZO94DoYByvM8JsuteyuX4O8La1hlkMgPqpC5X9bVA/s1600/StChris_63-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidozsUcOdS6XWpqKSfw3H302j48Hx-Hw-sYKK-U9fPlfuGAWL_VMEAdN4lruO4slhWcKfyOSNt3BBxM2bvfnG_8DlrQysGNoTN4RZO94DoYByvM8JsuteyuX4O8La1hlkMgPqpC5X9bVA/s1600/StChris_63-64.jpg" height="423" width="640" /></a></div>
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Top Row: Victoria Maddin, Tom Locker, Susie Trick, Jim Fox, Kathy Stoner, Alice Search, Kathy Moritz, Kathy Muldoon, Monk Moreo, Steve Schwab, Steve R. Smith<br />
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Second Row: Matthew Leyes, Stephen Covert, Ed Sabec, Mitchell Potterf, Jim Ewing, Mike Seskevics, Steve G. Smith<br />
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Third Row: Ron Thill, Larry Vance, Jim White, Dick Meyer, David Leppla, Mike Clark, Craig Puthoff, Larry Youngblood<br />
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Bottom Row: Sister Stella, Susan Partlow, Debby Hartman, Jeannie Trick, Belinda Brown, Sherry Hegg, Jackie Follick, Elaine Schieltz, Nanette Landreville, Ellen Conover, Theresa O'Donnell, Debbie Studer <br />
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Here are the Facebook comments about this photo:<br />
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Susan Partlow Landversicht - Such fun sharing these with my grandchildren here with me today due to school closing.<br />
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Michael E. Rado - The good ole days of Catholic school. I don't have any bad memories.<br />
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Jeannie Youngblood - What would parents do without grandparents on snow days!! We've put in our share too-----good memories!<br />
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Victoria Maddin Stem - I was wondering if anyone still had a class photo....this is so great<br />
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Tom Locker - 37 kids.<br />
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Marsha Plaut Powers - You are easy to spot...same pretty face!<br />
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Tom Locker - Thanks Marsha!<br />
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Dave Smith - I recognized a lot of friends!<br />
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Connie Strehle - Susie Trick top row third person.<br />
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Connie Strehle - I also found Dick Meyer and David L( sp) ? Oh there is Craig Putoff (sp) nan where are you?<br />
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Connie Strehle - Oh Nanetta I just found you bottom row 8 in. That picture is fun to look at!<br />
<br />
Pam Longacre - Holy sh-- Larry. David looked just like you at this age. That was a Weird feeling.<br />
<br />
Susan Tracey - I see you Jim!<br />
<br />
Pete Britton - Hard to believe we were ever that young. Wish I could do it all over again.<br />
<br />
Larry Youngblood - Connie...David Leppla!<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - I'm 3rd row down on the right... Next to Larry Youngblood. It's PutHoff. Lolol<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - Jeez...50 years ago...already. Where does time go?<br />
<br />
Jim Fox - I tried to tag Matt Leyes but somehow Facebook translated my typing to some unknown language.<br />
<br />
Jim Fox - Is the kid in the upper right corner Steve Smith?<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - Question: Did any of us have a date/dates together after 8th grade? Me: I had a New Years Eve Party date with Kathy Moritz...about 1970. Nice girl<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - We had 2 Steve Smith's....Steven R. & Stephen G. That's Steve R.<br />
<br />
Jim Fox - Thanks Craig, I knew there were two Steve Smiths and I thought that was one of them.<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - Too many of our classmates are gone. Dick Meyer has asked me about arranging a reunion this year for our 50 years. I suggested getting together at the festival. Any interest?<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - Yes...I'd be interested in doing that...great idea, Dick.<br />
<br />
Tom Locker - I think that we've named almost all the photos. Stilll missing top row, #5, the girl between Jim Fox and Alice Search, second row, the boy between Mitchell Potterf and Mike Seskevics and, also on the second row, the last boy on the right, above Larry Youngblood.<br />
<br />
Jim Fox - Tom, could the guy above Larry be the other Steve Smith?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=230159747504875594" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Larry Youngblood - I ran into Alice Search back in about '75 when I was teaching at the Hobart Welding School. She was taking Welding for Artists, I think.<br />
<br />
Larry Youngblood - Sue...what festival? St. Chris I assume. What time of year would that be? I have not associated myself with St. Chris since the 8th grade.<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - Yes...that is Steve G. smith. I saw him about a month ago. He lives near Washington, DC.<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=230159747504875594" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
Tom Locker - Jim Fox - I tagged Steve G. Only two left!<br />
<br />
Craig Puthoff - Did you get Victoria Madden? What about Belinda Brown?<br />
<br />
Victoria Maddin Stem - I'm the first one on the top left.<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - Yes, St Chris' festival. I believe it is held in June. I will call and find out the particulars later this month. Tom, would June be a good month for you to come back to Ohio?<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - I believe it is Jim Ewing next to Mike.<br />
<br />
Tom Locker - Yes - I can probably make it the last half of June.<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - I will post the dates as soon as I find out.<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - I know one of the Schwab boys passed, was it Steve?<br />
<br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - Last one -- I believe the missing name is Stonerock, first name may have been Kathy.<br />
<br />
Larry Youngblood - Yes, Kathy Stonerock!! I remember, now...Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-91277936264519604652014-01-30T09:54:00.004-08:002014-05-16T15:06:49.884-07:00My Fifth Grade Class - St. ChrisThis is the Fourth & Fifth grade class at St. Christopher School 1960-1961. I was in this class, but missed photo day. My Grandfather
hurt himself which required a several day hospital stay. We were with
him in Boston. There were 48 kids in this class (47 pictured plus me).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10201039029157937&set=a.4471904875757.1073741825.1233943860&type=1&theater">Follow this link to Larry Youngblood's Facebook post: </a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpDcn0BXo_MrETG0hJGjln7YNog8FKOFSqCNcM8gpXnZvfLmj6s0Q5yAOUtTNXhyphenhyphenJ-sJDmyKC5_Kz65o7u5Ard9qc_atPD1VKcSmwHdcKMnchf1cl1q-Z9IKFwPlVqsEvdJFNA795Dy0/s1600/StChris_60-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpDcn0BXo_MrETG0hJGjln7YNog8FKOFSqCNcM8gpXnZvfLmj6s0Q5yAOUtTNXhyphenhyphenJ-sJDmyKC5_Kz65o7u5Ard9qc_atPD1VKcSmwHdcKMnchf1cl1q-Z9IKFwPlVqsEvdJFNA795Dy0/s1600/StChris_60-61.jpg" height="416" width="640" /></a></div>
Top Row: Ellen Conover, Anita Trick, Pat Walter, Mike Hawley, Mike Gaylord, Nanette Landreville, Unknown, Julie Larkin<br />
<br />
Second Row: Becky Van Dyke, Jim White, Don Tolle, Steve Kistler, Christine Worman, Mike Clark, Kathy Schwab, Tom Hertlein, Pam Miller, Emily Moreo, Danny Fessler, Mike Geis<br />
<br />
Third Row: Patrick Martin, Larry Youngblood, Ron Thill, Belinda Brown, Susan Partlow, Mary Ann Klenke, Josephine Elliott, Tommy Sliger<br />
<br />
Fourth Row: Candy Tesno, Maria Korte, Virgina Himes, Kathy Kleinschmidt, Shari Heggs, Steve Covert, Mike Baltis, Joe Clement, Ann Suess, Kathy Yates, Dave Conters, Mike Patterson<br />
<br />
Bottom Row: Mrs Boggs, Calvin Hartman, Mike Henderson, James Brown, Mike Johnston, Gus Van Acor, Susie Strukamp, Kenny Roland, Father Edwin Aufderheide<br />
<br />
Here are the Facebook comments about this photo:<br />
<br />
Jeannie Youngblood - The young man with a bow tie to the right of the weather vane doesn't have a beard, but he does resemble my sweetie!<br />
<br />
Jan Williams Mahaffey - Big class!<br />
<br />
Victoria Maddin Stem - Picked out Sue and Larry right away. I didn't join them till 7th grade.<br />
<br />
Connie Strehle - Where are you Anita?<br />
<br />
Anita Trick Moulds - Ok Connie, it's kind of embarrassing that I am not sure, but by process of elimination I think I am on the top row to the right of the diary?? Maybe?? I don't remember seeing this picture before. Crazy that I recognize most everyone in this picture except myself...proof that it's all beginning to slip away! Oh the joys of growing old...<br />
<br />
Larry Youngblood - Yes, Anita, that is you to the right of the diary!!! Must admit...had a big crush on you back then!!!<br />
<br />
Jan Williams Mahaffey - Did everyone wear a Col. Sanders tie?<br />
<br />
Larry Youngblood - Jan, see how most of the girls have some kind of a school uniforn on? The restof the girls must have been rebels! Bowties must have been the thing to do back then. I personally would not be caught dead in one today!<br />
<br />
Sue Moorman Vallo Starr - @Jo (Elliott) middle row, third from right?<br />
<br />
Emily Moreo Friend - Hated those uniforms. they were hideous.<br />
<br />
Emily Moreo Friend - I see Ann Suess, Kathy Kleithschmidt and Danny Fessler not named<br />
<br />
Emily Moreo Friend - But this was a double class, I don't remeber if I was 4th or 5th? how strange to not remember this.<br />
<br />
Susie Black - I must not have been a rebel because I am styling a bow on my neck. I love those beanies. Hilarious<br />
<br />
Tom Locker - Emily, this was your 4th grade year. Larry, Nanette, Ellen, Ron, Sue and a few others were 5th graders. I was in this class but missed picture day.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=230159747504875594" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Susan Partlow Landversicht - You were 4th grade, a year behind me.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=230159747504875594" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Susan Partlow Landversicht - I have often wondered what happen to Julie and Patty Larkin. Anyone know?<br />
<br />
Emily Moreo Friend - And I am still lost and behind most of the time.<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=230159747504875594" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
Susan Partlow Landversicht - Next to Steve Covert I believe is Shari Heggs -- not certain of the spelling.<br />
<br />
Tom Locker - I remember something about the Larkins - they had a sister born on February 29, 1960.Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-34056035248111621822013-12-27T15:31:00.000-08:002014-12-10T14:56:46.077-08:00Skiing – the First Rockies Year<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslRyE-2t9Borovof_A0DLFIzmAO99nJrHUlxsPlnO_0gEdfPkUvEFTnQsgQZ-rCxf0zxaFVBVjCDoYhHfJ3SlweEo__0mgonVCFHVuRqjNWDt9qil6ycPj84tnSevSeUPdB6OrTbRQpE/s1600/sandia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslRyE-2t9Borovof_A0DLFIzmAO99nJrHUlxsPlnO_0gEdfPkUvEFTnQsgQZ-rCxf0zxaFVBVjCDoYhHfJ3SlweEo__0mgonVCFHVuRqjNWDt9qil6ycPj84tnSevSeUPdB6OrTbRQpE/s640/sandia.JPG" height="351" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">West Slope - Sandia Montains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the Fall of 1973 I moved to the Rocky Mountains. I’d been wanting to move to ski country, someplace with a big mountain, for a long time (<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-skiing-ohio-years.html">I wrote about my first five years of skiing here</a>). I’d skied in Vermont and Colorado and enjoyed both. I was thinking that I would go somewhere in New England, since Mom’s family was around Boston and it was closer to Ohio than the Rockies. While Vermont was the only state in New England where I'd actually skied, I had been in all the others in the summer. I really loved my Uncle Tom's place on an island in a lake near Augusta, Maine<br />
<br />
So, early in my planning I was really leaning towards moving to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugarloaf_(ski_resort)">Sugarloaf Ski Area</a> in Maine. I had a college friend who'd skied there and spoke highly of it. From the research I’d done (although to this day I have not skied there), there were a lot of things I liked about it. It is a big mountain with long runs and a lot of skiable terrain. I liked the lake and forest terrain of Maine. I liked that it wasn’t too far from the ocean. I liked the fact that it wasn't too far from some family.<br />
<br />
I did love Colorado and there were a lot of things that attracted me to it, but all things considered I had chosen Sugarloaf.<br />
<br />
Then why, in 1973 was I moving to New Mexico in the southern Rockies instead of either of my top two choices? Because for the previous two winters I had often skied with an older couple Bob & Kay, who moved to New Mexico in the Spring of 1973.<br />
<br />
Bob was an Air Force Lt. Col. who had been stationed at Wright-Patterson AFB around 1971-73. Then he received a new assignment as the commander of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandia_Base">Manzano AFB</a>, near Albuquerque. They knew that I was planning a move to ski country and offered me assistance if I was interested in New Mexico. I visited them in June 1973, looked at the local ski area, <a href="http://www.sandiapeak.com/">Sandia Peak</a>, and decided to enroll in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_New_Mexico">University of New Mexico</a> (which was pretty close to their home) beginning in the Fall semester.<br />
<br />
So in August I left Delco-Moraine and became a fulltime student at UNM (Go Lobos!) working part-time as a bus boy at a small but fancy restaurant several evenings a week. My heart really wasn't in school though as I couldn't wait for snow and a chance to get a ski instructor job at the local ski area - <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandia_Peak_Tramway">Sandia Peak</a><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4CzNKmu6RtxKTqXaxa3AGeemOCaB_Eik2rgcQPb8qh-C6fy0IwmR25TRSg7OytCa5pITZnM0QCOlABVaEnUtYlOprGsXmvQ0eObA-JK1eC0vhdA4wLol-g_43hG9aNllNOd0kME20-s/s1600/sandiabasearea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4CzNKmu6RtxKTqXaxa3AGeemOCaB_Eik2rgcQPb8qh-C6fy0IwmR25TRSg7OytCa5pITZnM0QCOlABVaEnUtYlOprGsXmvQ0eObA-JK1eC0vhdA4wLol-g_43hG9aNllNOd0kME20-s/s320/sandiabasearea.jpg" height="189" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandia Peak Base Lodge - site of <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/04/6.html">Closing Party</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
While I was hoping to be just offered an instructor job, this didn't happen. I had to go to through a tryout, but I was eventually offered a job. A few days later I finished up my UNM finals and became a fulltime ski instructor. I did keep my evening bus boy job as well.<br />
<br />
I really enjoyed Sandia Peak. I have never lived among friendlier people. I got to know so many people at the ski area, the University, various businesses around town. You were treated like family, always welcomed into homes and invited to events.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TtseGLzz5MMUtSlKmYSCrNdukzSTX8DmaC5iEHGLKxhwT7bwQQu5pQj45IvkqekB4XqyJAbvihCYAA5iGpgUSZb6JJjhF2uSRBYy5l7vGbKmv7DQYOZRH3iVAh3nlawz1_lGf74VcXI/s1600/f74f0067_Sports%252BIllustrated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TtseGLzz5MMUtSlKmYSCrNdukzSTX8DmaC5iEHGLKxhwT7bwQQu5pQj45IvkqekB4XqyJAbvihCYAA5iGpgUSZb6JJjhF2uSRBYy5l7vGbKmv7DQYOZRH3iVAh3nlawz1_lGf74VcXI/s1600/f74f0067_Sports%252BIllustrated.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lange "Comp"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't know how many total days I skied that winter, I'd guess close to 100, including a stretch of 75 days in a row. During that time, in addition to Sandia, I skied at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taos_Ski_Valley,_New_Mexico">Taos</a>, <a href="http://www.skisantafe.com/">Santa Fe</a>, <a href="http://www.redriverskiarea.com/">Red River</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purgatory_Ski_Resort">Purgatory</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aspen_Mountain_%28ski_area%29">Ajax</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vail_Ski_Resort">Vail</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunlight_Ski_Area">Sunlight</a>. I remember the day in late March or early April when I woke up at a friend's home in Durango, Colorado, knowing that I wouldn't ski that day -- the streak was over.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJe8mLmX7IlO5ZGvii4vrjnlkn70ua9x8FfV6ir-BMN2o1-5AWSoehNbILZ3rVMyBToqTX7DXSpAFOXhMowgJFxKJ1a7qJU3XZnoAARGZ28Omvg3z0gok0eF5vGcEetTqbrBBzc5kMYI/s1600/aa6841dd_1971-11%252BSkier%252Bpage%252B33%252Bski%252Bboot%252Barticle%252Bscott%252Bhanson%252Brosemount%252Braichle%252Bcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJe8mLmX7IlO5ZGvii4vrjnlkn70ua9x8FfV6ir-BMN2o1-5AWSoehNbILZ3rVMyBToqTX7DXSpAFOXhMowgJFxKJ1a7qJU3XZnoAARGZ28Omvg3z0gok0eF5vGcEetTqbrBBzc5kMYI/s320/aa6841dd_1971-11%252BSkier%252Bpage%252B33%252Bski%252Bboot%252Barticle%252Bscott%252Bhanson%252Brosemount%252Braichle%252Bcropped.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lange "SuperComp"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I came to New Mexico I had two pairs of Lange ski boats, my original "Comps" and the "Super-Comps" that I'd gotten in Ohio. I also had two pairs of K2 Comps with Look bindings.<br />
<br />
73-74 was not a winter of heavy snow in central New Mexico. Many rocks were exposed at Sandia and I ended up pulling sections of the metal edges out of all my skis. Here is another example of the friendliness and generosity of New Mexicans. Sandia's Ski School Director, Tom Long, offered me the use of a pair of Spaulding "Numero Uno" skis, a local ski shop that I took my K2s to for repairs gave me a pair of Hexcel "Comps" free of charge. For several weeks after my K2s had become unusable various friends and <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFO0JMLJI9DCXMVY4TqZ_UpyxCufcKFMoOKC03bYoKxC6P48J0alqZX9Aoj2SGjJ3_70lnuKlfHNR9EFDNhQJdOIKBXXtfuAsddUOs2L8M7beZh9e2mJUIZuuUWWVnc9bmpMI9kQQftMo/s1600/downhill_skiing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFO0JMLJI9DCXMVY4TqZ_UpyxCufcKFMoOKC03bYoKxC6P48J0alqZX9Aoj2SGjJ3_70lnuKlfHNR9EFDNhQJdOIKBXXtfuAsddUOs2L8M7beZh9e2mJUIZuuUWWVnc9bmpMI9kQQftMo/s320/downhill_skiing.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibition run at Sandia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
acquaintances continued to offer me the use of skis. I think that at one time I had five or six pairs of loaned skis at my home.<br />
<br />
So I had an opportunity to ski many different skis over the course of that winter, The only other equipment change I made was to trade both pairs of my Lange boots for a pair of used Tecnicas. These were among the lightest ski boots on the market at the time and I was very happy with them. Skiing with these boots and the Hexcels which were probably the lightest "competition-grade" skis available, made turning notably easier and quicker.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS5hEIhf-ned76QaOK_rZzfB_8zPBDmJff8V98mH_0yH2BIbtnQ1PmCnZUCQVYZFpTr6S-j28ZE3H5nfYq0BR8GXgKqACkBDMUBjeaawphuEK5TdCQsochgwyUkig5XlcHkWgOh5rOJ0/s1600/e0067cf2_stash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS5hEIhf-ned76QaOK_rZzfB_8zPBDmJff8V98mH_0yH2BIbtnQ1PmCnZUCQVYZFpTr6S-j28ZE3H5nfYq0BR8GXgKqACkBDMUBjeaawphuEK5TdCQsochgwyUkig5XlcHkWgOh5rOJ0/s320/e0067cf2_stash.jpg" height="295" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Technica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The other significant thing about my winter at Sandia Peak was that I met a number of people who worked for the Forest Service during the summer. They encouraged me to apply. I was offered a firefighter job with them only a few weeks after the ski season had ended. Thus began my 30-year Ranger career.<br />
<br />
And of course there was the closing day <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/04/6.html">party</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-3205494800192496122013-11-27T11:48:00.001-08:002013-12-09T09:36:15.096-08:00Can I Go Too?One summer when I was young, probably 1967 or 1968, I and a bunch of
my friends and acquaintances from Butler High School went camping.<br />
<br />
I’m
thinking that this was in 1968. This was just after we had graduated
from high school and shortly before many of us would be leaving for jobs, various
colleges or military service (this was during the Vietnam era), so it was a sort of last fling. Most of the campers on this
particular trip were from my “Class of 1968” but there were a number of
"69ers” – the class behind us – there too.<br />
<br />
Our camping
spot was in a little depression, a glen or hollow, north of Kershner
Road, between Dogleg and Fredrick Pikes. You took about a quarter mile
or so drive up a dirt road. When you got to the spot, you’d have
thought that you were a lot further from “civilization” than you
actually were as you could see no signs of any homes or buildings. I’m
not sure how we happened to get this spot, I think the land belonged to
someone’s family or relative.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3wucLbUE_dZKlDtvxz6edYAKfBIErVDoDenk9ErrSKhXBiepZpzBOL9WzlO6ivii73C1wLC9quqkNCrk-Ozz7ky2npW9wcV0kK9FCh0zIvpBmC57xy0gq_jRL-DhvrxUjE88PwXQFA0/s1600/canigotoo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3wucLbUE_dZKlDtvxz6edYAKfBIErVDoDenk9ErrSKhXBiepZpzBOL9WzlO6ivii73C1wLC9quqkNCrk-Ozz7ky2npW9wcV0kK9FCh0zIvpBmC57xy0gq_jRL-DhvrxUjE88PwXQFA0/s640/canigotoo.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd guess we were camped just about where the yellow circle is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The group was all guys
and we were a pretty tame bunch. Someone might have brought some beer,
but I’m not sure of this (and if there had been any, it would have been
3.2 – the low alcohol content type). There were definitely no drugs.<br />
<br />
So
we were talking and joking with one another around the campfire. I
remember that we walked over to an abandoned farm house which we’d been
told to avoid.<br />
<br />
I’m trying to remember who was there. George Moore, Steve Schieltz, Larry Schieltz, Ron Stapleton, Jack Hopkins, Dale Dalrymple, Monte Henderson, Tom Hertlein. There were quite few others. I guess about 10 or 12 guys altogether.<br />
<br />
I also remember that the Father of Nancy Knuge, a girl in the Class ahead of us, ’67, visited us. They lived on Frederick and I guess he heard us or maybe saw the campfire. He was very pleasant, stayed and talked for a while. I’m sure he was just checking us out.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, getting to the point of this story, during the evening we had used up most of the firewood. A couple of the guys dragged a log into camp. One of them decided to cut it into smaller pieces and began chopping it with an ax.<br />
<br />
Well it only took him four or five swings before the ax ricocheted off the log and into Larry Schieltz’s leg. A good sized flap of skin and muscle was seen looking through the large slit in his pants’ leg. He wasn’t in a huge amount of pain, but it was obvious that he would need medical treatment. There was a car parked quite close, I think it was George Moore’s. A bunch of guys quickly piled into the vehicle. The driver started the motor and the car began to move out.<br />
<br />
Then a voice was heard. Somewhat meekly, as though the speaker didn’t really want to bother anyone, but still feeling the need to have his say, he said, “Can I go too?”<br />
<br />
All eyes turned toward the speaker. Why did this person want to go? Didn’t he know this was an emergency? That there was no time for fooling around?<br />
<br />
Many of us were stunned when we saw who the speaker was. Yes, it was Larry! Apparently the injury to his leg had slowed him down to the point where he was unable to move fast enough to get a seat before the car left.<br />
<br />
The driver stopped the car and the other passengers sheepishly got out. Yes, they had filled every available seat. Larry got in and they went off to, I think, Good Samaritan Hospital.<br />
<br />
They were back a few hours later. The injury wasn’t serious. They’d taken a few stitches and Larry was fine.<br />
<br />
Probably the most serious and lingering injury was to the axe man – he was teased much after that and even got the frequently used nickname of “Hack.” I remember hearing him addressed by that name by people who I’m sure had no idea why he was called that.<br />
<br />
<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-56070345821516209492013-11-17T09:28:00.002-08:002014-02-13T11:30:25.752-08:00Best Baseball Players by Number?<br />
I put this together in 2008, so there could be additions or other changes.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.vintagebaseballgloveforum.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=2752&p=13387#p13387">Here is a link to a fan site discussion of this list.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
0 Al Oliver,<br />
1 Pee Wee Reese, Ozzie Smith, Billy Meyer, Bobby Doerr, Richie Ashburn, Billy Martin <br />
2 Derek Jeter, Tommy Lasorda, Red Schoendienst, Nellie Fox, Charlie Gehringer,<br />
3 Babe Ruth, Earl Averill, Bill Terry, Harmon Killebrew, Dale Murphy, Harold Baines, <br />
4 Lou Gehrig, Mel Ott, Duke Snider, Luke Appling, Earl Weaver, Ralph Kiner, Paul Molitor, Mel Ott, Joe Cronin <br />
5 Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Bench, George Brett, Hank Greenberg, Albert Pujols, Brooks Robinson, Lou Boudreau, Jeff Bagwell <br />
6 Stan Musial, Al Kaline, Joe Torre, Johnny Pesky, Steve Garvey, Tony Oliva <br />
7 Mickey Mantle, Craig Biggio <br />
8 Cal Ripken, Yogi Berra, Joe Morgan, Carl Yastrzemski, Willie Stargell, Gary Carter, Bill Dickey<br />
9 Ted Williams, Enos Slaughter, Bill Mazeroski, Roger Maris <br />
10 Phil Rizzuto, Andre Dawson, Rusty Staub, Ron Santo <br />
11 George Bell, Barry Larkin, Carl Hubbell, Jim Fregosi, Luis Aparicio, Paul Waner <br />
12 Roberto Alomar<br />
13 Alex Rodriquez<br />
14 Pete Rose, Ernie Banks, Jim Rice, Kent Hrbek, Larry Doby, Ken Boyer, Gil Hodges, Jim Bunning <br />
15 Thurman Munson<br />
16 Whitey Ford, Hal Newhouser, Ted Lyons<br />
17 Dizzy Dean<br />
18 Ted Kluszewski, Mel Harder <br />
19 Bob Feller, Billy Pierce, Jim Gilliam, Tony Gwynn, Robin Yount<br />
20 Mike Schmidt, Lou Brock, Frank Robinson, Pie Traynor, Don Sutton, Frank White <br />
21 Roberto Clemente, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa, Warren Spahn, Bob Lemon<br />
22 Jim Palmer<br />
23 Kirk Gibson, Ryne Sandberg, Don Mattingly, Willie Horton <br />
24 Willie Mays, Ken Griffey Jr, Tony Perez, Jimmy Wynn <br />
25 Bobby Bonds, Mark McGwire, José Cruz<br />
26 Wade Boggs, Billy Williams <br />
27 Juan Marichal, Carlton Fisk, Vladimir Guerrero, Jim Hunter <br />
28 Bert Blyleven, Vada Pinson <br />
29 Satchel Paige, Rod Carew, John Smoltz<br />
30 Nolan Ryan, Orlando Cepeda, Tim Raines,<br />
31 Greg Maddux, Fergie Jenkins, Mike Piazza, Dave Winfield <br />
32 Steve Carlton, Sandy Koufax, Elston Howard<br />
33 Mike Scott, Eddie Murray, Honus Wagner<br />
34 Fernando Valenzuela, Rollie Fingers, Kirby Puckett<br />
35 Randy Jones, Phil Niekro <br />
36 Robin Roberts, Gaylord Perry <br />
37 <br />
38 <br />
39 Roy Campanella<br />
40 Don Wilson<br />
41 Eddie Mathews, Tom Seaver, Joe Nuxhall<br />
42 Jackie Robinson, Bruce Sutter <br />
43 Dennis Eckersley<br />
44 Henry Aaron, Reggie Jackson, Willie McCovey<br />
45 Pedro Martinez, Bob Gibson <br />
46 Jim Maloney<br />
47 <br />
48 <br />
49 Larry Dierker, Ron Guidry <br />
50 <br />
51 <br />
52 <br />
53 Don Drysdale<br />
54 <br />
55 Orel HershiserTom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-25090770266334784062013-11-13T07:52:00.001-08:002015-01-01T10:17:08.305-08:00He Walks Just Like His Father.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJwtcrXiKuQEWh67p1KLCOkeXYjDS33g9BLhfFGDKXAXqbn-sZ7TmF66NK73wJegSLw-6meN2bWp5wRJB-MebE2jeMFBeiNJJO_wJiDjO3DfZoonQo3nYUQ7TaaEf0yOjIrmmmMpA4qM/s1600/100_2541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJwtcrXiKuQEWh67p1KLCOkeXYjDS33g9BLhfFGDKXAXqbn-sZ7TmF66NK73wJegSLw-6meN2bWp5wRJB-MebE2jeMFBeiNJJO_wJiDjO3DfZoonQo3nYUQ7TaaEf0yOjIrmmmMpA4qM/s1600/100_2541.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
My Dad was a great storyteller. He could make the most insignificant sorts of incidents memorable to all.<br />
<br />
I can easily visualize Dad telling one of these stories. He would
get this great smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He would
start off very seriously, but he could never maintain that long. Pretty soon he'd start to
giggle. He got so much joy out of sharing these with those he loved.<br />
<br />
Towards
the end of his life Dad would tell his favorite stories pretty often.
Some of us thought this was an indication of minor dementia, that he'd
forgotten he'd just told this. Now that I've thought more about this though, I don't think that was the case. I think he knew that he'd
told the story recently, but that he got so much happiness telling his stories,
and he knew that we got just as much joy hearing him tell them, that
he could not resist. <br />
<br />
In our family laughter can easily be triggered by just saying any number of short phrases -- "Turn Around?" "<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/12/20111226.html">Ma-TRO-Buis?</a>" "<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2013/05/10.html">Pull Over If You See a Good Spot</a>" "He Knows the Near Way!" "<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/04/27.html">Flat Tire</a>"<br />
<br />
<br />
One of the most famous though, is the story of the man who walks just like his Father.<br />
<br />
Here is the story as Dad would tell it:<br />
<br />
One summer we were driving up to Boston. This was probably in the late 70s and only Kim & Bill were with us since they were the only kids still living at home. On this trip we had decided to visit Marge's cousin, Jack Meade, who lived on Staten Island in New York.<br />
<br />
Marge had met Jack, but Jack was about 10 years younger than Marge and the last time they'd seen each other was when Jack was just a kid, so Marge wasn't sure she'd be able to recognize him. We'd never been to his house, so when we got to Staten Island we stopped at a McDonald's near the area where we thought he lived and called, telling him where we were.<br />
<br />
Jack said he knew exactly where the restaurant was and that he'd be over to meet us in a few minutes.<br />
<br />
So we sat there snacking, looking out the windows waiting for our guide to show.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes a guy walked through the parking lot. He didn't appear to be coming into the McDonald's, just passing through, but Marge looked closely at him and said, "Bill, I think that's him. He walks just like his Father."<br />
<br />
So I quickly went out the door and whistled. That got the guy's attention and he turned towards me. "Hey," I said, "We're over here!"<br />
<br />
He turned and gave me a quizzically look, but didn't say anything. He looked about the right age, so when he turned and started to walk away, I started following him. "Hey, Jack?" I yelled, "Where are you going?"<br />
<br />
He turned and looked at me, so I started walking a little faster, then, so did he. Next thing I knew we were running down the street. When he jumped over a hedge and tripped, I was able to catch up to him. He jumped up and took a swing at me, so I knocked him down again.<br />
<br />
"Jack," I said, "What the hell's the matter with you? I'm Bill Locker, your cousin Dolly's husband."<br />
<br />
"What the hell's a matter with me?" he replied, "What the hell's the matter with you? My name's not Jack and I don't have any cousins named Dolly."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0L8P1Bn9FEJy3ADMz3NIs7Mw72wimw39ke5Lhp-r-nFISblpvLeI1ahl88-HAZ8G3j_dWPgYG1BCmLZASUZUFXr6x4SIL4TsH63FcPBYMkZ4nVyDXxrWuZpsA8ZVKB8rUg-8fJU9vcc/s1600/dm-541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0L8P1Bn9FEJy3ADMz3NIs7Mw72wimw39ke5Lhp-r-nFISblpvLeI1ahl88-HAZ8G3j_dWPgYG1BCmLZASUZUFXr6x4SIL4TsH63FcPBYMkZ4nVyDXxrWuZpsA8ZVKB8rUg-8fJU9vcc/s1600/dm-541.jpg" height="376" width="400" /></a></div>
Well, this embarrassed me a little, so I apologized to the poor guy and went back the the restaurant. While I was gone, the real Jack had shown up, so we left and went to their home.<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Now here's the way Mom and Uncle Bill say it happened:<br />
<br />
The stories are the same until about the time your Nana said, "Bill, I think that's him. He walks just like his Father."<br />
<br />
The guy she said this about actually did come into MacDonald's. Dad went over to him and said, "Are you Jack Meade?"<br />
<br />
The guy said, "No," so Dad sat back down and waited until he did show up.Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-55533509494877289322013-08-20T09:13:00.001-07:002020-04-11T17:11:40.204-07:00Mammoth Memories and Reunion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZBVszZUggzU/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZBVszZUggzU?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-14136638628843885062013-08-13T12:02:00.001-07:002013-08-14T08:23:42.332-07:00Poplar Creek RR Tunnel - Butler Township, Ohio - 2013<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ERf_AD0dZQk?feature=player_detailpage" width="640"></iframe>Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-66997050301053430992013-08-13T12:00:00.000-07:002013-08-14T08:23:59.299-07:00Island Lake - Tahoe NF - 2013<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1Ef0Js2oW8k" width="640"></iframe>Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-34363491347713090942013-08-13T11:50:00.000-07:002013-08-14T08:24:16.147-07:00Edgewood - 1955 to 1965<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Y7oKUYxGArE?feature=player_detailpage" width="640"></iframe>Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-64692040273149717732013-07-22T20:01:00.002-07:002014-04-23T09:42:10.297-07:00More From the Chronicles of Wasted TimeSince I wrote my last “<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/12/20111227.html">Notable People</a>” post I've remembered a few more. I've been waiting some time to post this as I sincerely hope that this will be the last post of this sort.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
*******************************************</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
In the Fall of 1992 I was finishing up my <a href="http://www.unr.edu/">University of Nevada</a> journalism degree by serving as an intern for two aviation magazines, <a href="http://www.privatepilotmag.com/">Private Pilot</a> and <a href="http://www.kitplanes.com/">Kitplanes</a>. These magazines are both owned by the same publisher and, at that time, worked out of the same office in Orange County, California.</div>
<br />
A lot of interesting things happened while I was there, but the most memorable thing was when an editor from each of these magazines and I were sent up to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Monica_Airport">Santa Monica airport</a> to do a story on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Rutan">Dick Rutan</a> and a new high-performance aircraft he was investigating.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzbh0RvLffPJMxhyqsVMTTuF_ckVBzAc4VIGCb9CeqQQCylRYNH4PfNYhXGkFgqPsQkwqSzfjUhCkQQRoPjPTgF9Z2dODwMBLyrpsTfDqaL_X-417tBKcQxOsvx8KsyjUgBMMJP-wUV8/s1600/rutan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzbh0RvLffPJMxhyqsVMTTuF_ckVBzAc4VIGCb9CeqQQCylRYNH4PfNYhXGkFgqPsQkwqSzfjUhCkQQRoPjPTgF9Z2dODwMBLyrpsTfDqaL_X-417tBKcQxOsvx8KsyjUgBMMJP-wUV8/s1600/rutan.jpeg" /></a></div>
Rutan is well-known for piloting the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutan_Voyager">Voyager</a> – the first plane to fly around the world without refueling. It was designed and built by Rutan’s brother Burt and the aircraft is now displayed in the Smithsonian.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, we flew up to the Santa Monica airport, met Rutan and the builder of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berkut_360">Berkut</a>, an aircraft based on a design by Burt Rutan.<br />
<br />
We took of in a three-plane formation – the Berkut, piloted by Rutan, a video camera plane and we were in a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grumman_American_AA-5#AA-5B_Tiger">Grumman Tiger</a> taking stills.<br />
<br />
We talked with Rutan quite a bit as he and the designer were explaining the Berkut’s features to us. The conversation was mostly technical and we did not share a lot of “small talk.”<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6pxOaBmU7W3vcI8brDhmDmItDIoR_QbTiefrajoolRjuXF3XEDj3R22ss-pJFVdAqrt56sCmO1RHuASonlzD-vhI3Llxu48w6ONx_c1GA7N0FdAc2tqgHxRXzyYP1Kp9krDOQ8pzKpY/s1600/Kitplanes_article.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6pxOaBmU7W3vcI8brDhmDmItDIoR_QbTiefrajoolRjuXF3XEDj3R22ss-pJFVdAqrt56sCmO1RHuASonlzD-vhI3Llxu48w6ONx_c1GA7N0FdAc2tqgHxRXzyYP1Kp9krDOQ8pzKpY/s1600/Kitplanes_article.jpe" /></a>Rutan was running for Congress in the election that fall (he lost) and he had somewhere to go as soon as we landed. Until I was investigating this story online I had forgotten that I wrote the story that appeared in the magazine about this subject.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
Sometime around 1990 I went to Ohio for an extended visit. I decided to take my dog, Morgan, with me, so I purchased a travel cage for her. Just before she was taken into the baggage I gave her a sedative so that she would sleep. I had a couple of hour layover in LA and I made arrangements with the airline to have her brought out to the luggage retrieval area so that I could take her for a walk during this time.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Q3ZEaKP1iT3KeS9EQn3l-QSIahRu6cgbJ3s-jSNHzaH-TbtDfIIjMS7DPw3UqiTVv9hP1WYi4YnyhVypcf2klrlc9Y7mofiSF8GzFjL3OvsxFC9iRbeiGkWEHaWQ8abjFsw2RdyGEU/s1600/Macloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Q3ZEaKP1iT3KeS9EQn3l-QSIahRu6cgbJ3s-jSNHzaH-TbtDfIIjMS7DPw3UqiTVv9hP1WYi4YnyhVypcf2klrlc9Y7mofiSF8GzFjL3OvsxFC9iRbeiGkWEHaWQ8abjFsw2RdyGEU/s400/Macloud.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morgan & her daughter Muzo at McLeod Lake near<br />
Mammoth Lakes, California</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As I was walking through the LA terminal I noticed two blond young women cross the walkway some distance ahead of me. As I neared where I'd seen them cross they came out of a shop and now I was close enough to them, about 20 yards, to see that they were twins and uncommonly attractive.<br />
<br />
They went on their way and I mine. I retrieved Morgan and let her out of her cage. Putting the leash on her I headed outside to find a place to walk. As I approached the door I heard a woman behind me say, "That's a beautiful dog."<br />
<br />
I turned to thank her and saw that it was the twins. I stopped and they gushed over Morgan for a few minutes. We exchanged pleasantries and after a few moments we went our separate ways.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHslaAQc24y4btusMJZQOj2u2zujglxdl1bv-tXuWNemmqxC2JTsMoV3YGmJHPWUv6-VpVG-43-8fXAOamHvjuqfY6gpLKNAroy8ebFH-h_D8vUd1WmflnEG7DOE_tQfFvwgBglEfbTA/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHslaAQc24y4btusMJZQOj2u2zujglxdl1bv-tXuWNemmqxC2JTsMoV3YGmJHPWUv6-VpVG-43-8fXAOamHvjuqfY6gpLKNAroy8ebFH-h_D8vUd1WmflnEG7DOE_tQfFvwgBglEfbTA/s400/th.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a>I'm not sure how long after this, but it wasn't long, these twins, their names are <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shane_and_Sia_Barbi">Sia and Shane Barbi</a>, were on the cover of a major magazine and featured prominently in a story inside. They also had best selling swimsuit calenders for several years around that time.<br />
<br />
*******************************************<br />
<br />
In 1974 when I started teaching skiing at <a href="http://www.sandiapeak.com/%E2%80%8E">Sandia Peak</a> in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cibola_National_Forest">Cibola National Forest</a> in New Mexico. There was a Forest Service Snow Ranger working there named <a href="http://www.nmskihall.org/inductees/petetotemoff.html">Pete Totemoff</a>. Some of my co-workers worked for the Forest Service in the summer (as I would come to do). They told me that this Pete was a somewhat well-known character. Sports Illustrated had named him one of <a href="http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1085726/index.htm">America's top Skiers</a> a few years earlier. <br />
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He was one of the Forest Service's top winter sports experts and had laid out a lot of ski areas built on National Forests in Colorado and New Mexico, including <a href="http://www.skitaos.org/%E2%80%8E">Taos Ski Valley</a>. There is a run named for him at Taos.<br />
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He was also a top Fire Boss, being sent to put out forest and brush fires all over the Western U.S.<br />
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I skied with him a few times that winter although he wasn't at Sandia often. Then, the following Spring, when I was hired as a Forest Ranger, he ended up being my boss's boss. Again I didn't see him often as he was frequently gone on some other assignment.<br />
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I finished up my Bachelor's degree in journalism at the <a href="http://www.unr.edu/">University of Nevada</a>, attending classes there from 1988 to 1992. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Laxalt">Bob Laxalt</a>, the author of <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/861396.Sweet_Promised_Land">Sweet Promised Land</a></i>, was associated with the J-School as he ran the University of Nevada Press.<br />
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Bob was the son of a Basque sheepherder and a very friendly guy. His book is about his immigrant Father's return to his Basque country homeland in northern Spain after a fifty year absence. <br />
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Bob and I got along well. He knew I was a Forest Ranger and when we spoke he would "threaten" to come up to Truckee and show me some <a href="http://www.basque.unr.edu/arts/trees/default.htm">Basque Tree Carvings</a> which would "knock my socks off." (These carvings have a reputation for being somewhat risque.)<br />
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Bob was the brother of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Laxalt">Paul Laxalt</a> US Senator from Nevada and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Reagan">Reagan's</a> campaign manager for his Presidential runs.<br />
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Click <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/04/famous-ladies-i-have-known.html">here</a> and <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/12/20111227.html">here</a> to see the other posts about notable people.</div>
Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-67135580375398901802013-07-04T10:35:00.003-07:002015-07-03T07:24:44.143-07:00Independence Day Tribute<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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On this Independence Day I think about the many people in my life who have served our country. I am grateful for their sacrifice and willingness to serve. For some of these people their military service was just a minor detour in life and maybe even a bit of an adventure. Some found years of discomfort, fear and drudgery and others gave that “last full measure of devotion.”</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfSsOAFvk3nVGUO0z1dX34SI_8pgKaA8Rb21yDNLIVtm_Y2DY31zEOVf_xY3uqXL1SUNxeW5w3B6BG-5CNo5CiH5ViNPaI9uK_iqXMxWhgLMitIqwjqftRmFdiLo75zR9h8D8e2ujRG4/s1600/navy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfSsOAFvk3nVGUO0z1dX34SI_8pgKaA8Rb21yDNLIVtm_Y2DY31zEOVf_xY3uqXL1SUNxeW5w3B6BG-5CNo5CiH5ViNPaI9uK_iqXMxWhgLMitIqwjqftRmFdiLo75zR9h8D8e2ujRG4/s200/navy.gif" width="200" /></a>My apologies to anyone I may miss.</div>
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Of course the first person I think of is my <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/11/29.html">Dad, William Locker Jr</a>., who served in the US Navy from 1947 to 1950. This was very fortunate for me since he met Mom in Charleston, South Carolina where he was stationed. It’s hard for me to imagine how they would have ever met if Dad hadn’t joined the Navy.</div>
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Both my Grandfathers served. <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/03/27.html">Grandpa William Locker Sr</a>. in the US Navy in the 1920’s and <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/03/19b.html">Daddy Con, Cornelius Callahan</a>, with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/81st_Infantry_Division_%28United_States%29">81<sup>st</sup> Division</a> in WWI.</div>
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My best childhood friend David Bryant served in the US Army in Vietnam in 1967 & 1968. He died there on February 8, 1968.</div>
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My good friend George Youngerman was an artilleryman in the US Army in Vietnam. He was killed on April 1, 1971.</div>
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My cousin Daniel Meade, a Corporal in the US Army in Vietnam was from New York. I barely knew him as he was quite a bit older than me. He was killed the same day as David, February 8, 1968. </div>
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My Uncle Johnny Cranford, husband of my Mom’s sister Jo, served as a rifleman in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/45th_Infantry_Division_%28United_States%29">45<sup>th</sup> Division</a> in Africa, Sicily, Italy, France and Germany from ‘42 to ‘45. No US unit spent more time in combat than the 45<sup>th</sup> Division. </div>
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My Uncle Bob Coehick, husband of my Dad’s sister Norma, served as an Army combat engineer in Korea in ‘52 and ‘53.</div>
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My cousin Roland “Jack” Hale was fatally wounded fighting the Nazis in February of ‘45 while serving with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/30th_Infantry_Division_%28United_States%29">30<sup>th</sup> Infantry Division</a>.</div>
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My cousin Vernon “Bud” Hale (Jack’s brother) served with the US Army’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hawaiian_Division_%28United_States%29">Hawaiian Division</a>. He was at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schofield_Barracks">Schofield Barracks</a> in Hawaii on December 7th, 1941.<br />
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<a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2012/05/1b.html">James Tipton</a> was the older brother of one of Dad’s best friends from his youth. Jim
joined the US Armed Forces in the late 30’s while he was still in his
teens. After finishing his training, Jim had the misfortune to be assigned to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippine_Division">Philippines Division</a>.<br />
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His unit fought in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Bataan">Battle of Bataan</a>. He survived the battle and then endured the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bataan_Death_March">Bataan Death March</a>. When he was liberated after the war he weighed less than 80 pounds.</div>
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My nephew Mason Maxwell served in the US Army in Korea and Indonesia. He suffered a permanent disability from injuries suffered during rescue efforts in the aftermath of the 2004 Indonesian tsunami.</div>
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My Uncle Tom Callahan served in the US Army from 1946 to 1948 in the Aleutian Islands.</div>
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My cousins Bobby, Mark & Craig Cox all served. Bobby & Mark in the US Marine Corps in California during and just after the Vietnam era. Craig was in the US Army sometime later.<br />
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I also wanted to mention my Uncle Reggie Whitby. He did not serve in the US Armed Forces, but he contributed to the cause of freedom during WWII as a member of the Royal Air Force.</div>
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To each and every one of these fine men I offer my sincerest gratitude.</div>
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Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-17112501115385854942013-06-26T15:10:00.003-07:002018-05-07T08:37:54.670-07:00Sense of DirectionI’m often accused of having a good sense of direction. I usually have a feeling for which way North is. I can usually find my way anywhere I’ve been before and sometimes even to places I’ve never been. Here are a few stories about this.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7R-pefGCPYBWY1coJhbp2I22tFnswW5v2ZPIG9XKGJ0OQtEov8JKZTixtewEd_5Z_mYjF-e4YtimeBElbBjs5TkAISIw0YWAafrns3fSpmQA8UWZXHtCm_lITG5zvCLWFM7aynh4RfM/s1600/Murlin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7R-pefGCPYBWY1coJhbp2I22tFnswW5v2ZPIG9XKGJ0OQtEov8JKZTixtewEd_5Z_mYjF-e4YtimeBElbBjs5TkAISIw0YWAafrns3fSpmQA8UWZXHtCm_lITG5zvCLWFM7aynh4RfM/s400/Murlin1.jpg" width="400" xya="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murlin Heights Elementary</td></tr>
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When I started school in Vandalia, in 1956, the town was growing quickly. There were so many new homes going in, and we were in the early wave of the “Baby Boomer” kids, so Vandalia didn’t have enough schools for all of us. They were building a new school, Stonequarry Elementary, that I was scheduled to go to (at the southeast corner of Dogleg and Stonequarry Roads, it's now a church), but it wasn’t ready when the year began.</div>
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So I began school at Murlin Heights Elementary, but was only there for a few days. Then we were sent to Vandalia Elementary (VE) where our class was seated in the gym, with about three other classes. The “classrooms” were divided by curtains hanging from ropes stretched across the gym.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnDf9n6Jmi87lryvbLwCeG1aSnbyjLt5ojv9aCjPHkmH0imyBsigs7wBnta6imz-9M17ygGlyt6pQl-b7X05WZGijtacCgCnFsAMn8aR09FHOXXCkmaZqo-v5gxwkQv5oGd2yTSVH7wM/s1600/ve.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnDf9n6Jmi87lryvbLwCeG1aSnbyjLt5ojv9aCjPHkmH0imyBsigs7wBnta6imz-9M17ygGlyt6pQl-b7X05WZGijtacCgCnFsAMn8aR09FHOXXCkmaZqo-v5gxwkQv5oGd2yTSVH7wM/s400/ve.jpe" width="400" xya="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vandalia Elementary</td></tr>
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We attended “VE” for a good while, not sure how long, but I remember that the first day we went to Stonequarry the weather was a bit cool.<br />
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I remember, very clearly, another thing about our first day at Stonequarry. The School Bus picked us up that morning as usual and took us to VE where the students who attended that school were to get off, while those who were to go on to Stonequarry remained on the bus. But for some reason, the driver decided that I and other boy, Rickie Heeter, who was my best friend in First Grade, were confused about where we were supposed to go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpEWMMj6n4JMAE5BAffUOByFqL6FdLpxGtNOktpUcITvTGd2BQ9lBoK804y6QPWBirt_senJv42OjdkLY4qWWRKYO3k3ZYROrb5JbL-LM3tcL_70Pq3h6J56KkDWRUjq3IibcbUgbw80/s1600/TLocker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpEWMMj6n4JMAE5BAffUOByFqL6FdLpxGtNOktpUcITvTGd2BQ9lBoK804y6QPWBirt_senJv42OjdkLY4qWWRKYO3k3ZYROrb5JbL-LM3tcL_70Pq3h6J56KkDWRUjq3IibcbUgbw80/s1600/TLocker.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tommy Locker</td></tr>
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We told him we were now at Stonequarry, but he insisted that we were VE students and had to get off the bus. So there stood two six-year-olds, outside a school which wasn’t theirs, where none of their classmates, teachers or friends were, watching the bus drive off. Rickie started crying. I don’t remember feeling scared. I knew where I was, I knew where I lived and I knew how to get there. I told Rickie, “I’m going to get my Dad!” (At that time Dad worked the evening shift.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTJFxd-HkJSQSOb-id5ZBjYwBr4uyGt8rzvs6L5Frg4NrXvOkruikE8hKKP9CBXFRbj0_EqdK_-lRzJxmnWzaAOKy1PR0bMT7Uxm-ZrXHxzvzld-LcCNZ9xLljMV1m3bCrC9bzvjNP2I/s1600/RHeeter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTJFxd-HkJSQSOb-id5ZBjYwBr4uyGt8rzvs6L5Frg4NrXvOkruikE8hKKP9CBXFRbj0_EqdK_-lRzJxmnWzaAOKy1PR0bMT7Uxm-ZrXHxzvzld-LcCNZ9xLljMV1m3bCrC9bzvjNP2I/s1600/RHeeter.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rickie Heeter</td></tr>
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So off I went. I had started walking towards my house before the bus was out of sight. Our house on Spartan Avenue was more than a mile from VE and on the other side of US 40, at that time one of the Nation’s major east-west highways. I think I knew the route partly because Dad worked evenings and, as we only had one car, we would sometimes walk from our house over to the library, which was then near the corner of Dixie & Kenbrook (Kenbrook was called Nelson at that time), very near VE.<br />
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It probably took me about a half-hour to get home. My Dad’s sister, Aunt Norma, lived on Donora Drive, very near us, and I had to pass her house to get home. She noticed me walking past and, realizing that I should have been in school, called out to me, “Tommy, where are you going?”</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9sQCcpf63Rzc3t7if6G4Ah2-bqM1OYoR0h5l1l2NArxwNh45XDsPquszdN-SUNqO7yk-DUd5uNAT3aGt3Ta4-weCQjabXA1BJU-XFoXBpVAHBQ9lk9mPx4fCNVLc2csnYi3sf_Y8Vk0/s1600/vandalia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="875" data-original-width="1103" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9sQCcpf63Rzc3t7if6G4Ah2-bqM1OYoR0h5l1l2NArxwNh45XDsPquszdN-SUNqO7yk-DUd5uNAT3aGt3Ta4-weCQjabXA1BJU-XFoXBpVAHBQ9lk9mPx4fCNVLc2csnYi3sf_Y8Vk0/s320/vandalia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our neighborhood was so new it wasn't on the map yet!</td></tr>
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To get my Dad!” I responded.</div>
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Well, Mom and Dad were a bit surprised to see me! I explained what had happened and Dad drove me back over to VE. We found Rickie in the office, still crying (why we didn’t think of just going into the office initially I don’t know – we were six). Dad took both of us to Stonequarry and explained the situation to our teacher, Miss Cole.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw4vQI7qw_4UlRg3xuDhkkyebrf-V-i-Jan5GxgbEwS-syCzemo4HKGsb9tkInvQy29B3sOWfX850WvP-7K0KY8bFsRurOYChNPQhNYM-SB0h243Eta7x6nUEVOEj9Rj3cvqkNgPdOr8/s1600/Stonequarry_Elementery.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw4vQI7qw_4UlRg3xuDhkkyebrf-V-i-Jan5GxgbEwS-syCzemo4HKGsb9tkInvQy29B3sOWfX850WvP-7K0KY8bFsRurOYChNPQhNYM-SB0h243Eta7x6nUEVOEj9Rj3cvqkNgPdOr8/s400/Stonequarry_Elementery.jpe" width="400" xya="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stonequarry Elementary</td></tr>
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One last memory of this event – Dad often told this story and he would say that I had “walked a mile and three tents.” I couldn’t remember seeing any tents while I was walking home. Sometimes when we would drive along the route I’d walked I looked for those tents. Eventually of course, it dawned on me that he was saying a mile and three tenths.<br />
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One summer when I was 19 or 20 I drove with Mom and some of my younger siblings up to Boston for vacation. Driving home it was getting late and I was pretty tired, having driven most of the way. By this time we were just north of Columbus, maybe an hour and a half or two hours from home, but I was just getting too sleepy to continue.<br />
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I woke Mom up and told her that I was going to pull over and sleep for a while. She said that she felt fine and would drive the rest of the way. I climbed into the backseat and soon fell asleep.<br />
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At this time, the Interstate Highway system was not complete and to get on the Interstate from Columbus to Vandalia required several miles of traversing city streets.<br />
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In the backseat I felt the car turn and was suddenly wide awake. I sat up and said, “We’re going the wrong way.”<br />
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Mom explained that no, we had just gotten to US 40 and we’d be home soon. Just at that moment the headlights illuminated a sign very like this one.<br />
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In May of 1994 I visited my friend <a href="http://justformyboys.blogspot.com/2011/11/london-1994-incident-on-tube.html">Mark in London</a>. Mark grew up in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London">London</a> and enjoyed showing off his city to me.<br />
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Late one afternoon he said to me, “There’s something I want to show you over in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Docklands">Docklands</a> part of East London, down by the Thames.”<br />
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So we jump in his car and head from Hammersmith, west of London, towards the Docklands. Now, we were traveling generally east, and since it was late afternoon the sun was right behind us. We drove along, talking and laughing. As <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Van_Morrison">Van Morrison</a> says in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coney_Island_(song)"><i>Coney Island</i></a>, “The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craic">Craic</a> was good.”<br />
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Mark was driving, of course, but as we drove along I noticed that the sun was gradually moving from more of less directly behind us to coming in the windows on the left side of the car. We were going north.<br />
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Now, I knew that we were north of the Thames when we started and that the Docklands were near the river, so it seemed to me that we were not getting any nearer to our destination, but it was Mark’s city and I assumed he knew where he was going.<br />
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But after driving another little while, Mark said, “I thought we’d be there by now.”<br />
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I told him that I didn’t think we were getting any closer to the Thames. He was surprised and wanted to know why I thought that. When I explained my reasoning he couldn’t believe it, “I’ve lived here all my life and never used the sun to help me find out where I’m going.”<br />
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"But Mark," I said, "we were north of the Thames when we started and we're going north now. We can't possibly be getting any closer to the River."<br />
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We never did get to the Docklands and he wouldn’t tell me what he had wanted to show me.<br />
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In 1993 Mom and Dad visited California. Accompanied by Bill we spent about a week driving around the state from Truckee where Bill and I were living then, down the coast to San Diego and back up through Bishop and Mammoth returning to Truckee.<br />
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We visited several friends and relatives along the way and we had been on the road several days when Mom mentioned that we hadn’t looked at a map the entire trip. Then it became a challenge to complete the trip without using a map.<br />
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Over the years my career as a Forest Ranger had taken me to many nooks and crannies of California over the years -- going to fires in different places -- so I was pretty familiar with the road systems and the general “lay of the land” and we were able to do it.<br />
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Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230159747504875594.post-91346387662236279682013-06-12T19:14:00.001-07:002013-06-19T14:57:33.802-07:00Butler High School Directory<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">During the 66-67 school year the Class of '67 made and sold a Student Directory as a fund raiser (click image for a high resolution view).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here is a scan of the page my name was on. When I recieved my copy I was dismayed to find that my phone number was wrong! At that time our number was 898-2246. So I want to take this moment to apologize to all the Butler girls who tried to call me during these days (and I know that was most of you!). I wasn't ignoring you. It was the fault of the Class of '67! And really girls, you have no one to blame but yourself - my address was right so you could have come over.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I remember a day shortly after I had gotten this, my cousin (Beavercreek HS) and a good friend (West Carrolton HS) saw it in my room. Both of them were really excited. My cousin said, "It's better than a 'little black book'!" My friend agreed with him, "You mean you've got the phone number of every girl at your school? Oh my gosh, what I wouldn't give for that!"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After this, every time we were out in Vandalia and saw a good-looking female Butler student (in other words - any Butler co-ed!) as soon as we got back to my home they would rush to look her up in it . Neither of them every had the nerve to call anyone though.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />Page containing Sco<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">tt McKnight's name as requested by his brother, Bruce McKnight.</span></span></div>
Tom Lockerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857205609027226278noreply@blogger.com2