Rhyming Game

Our 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.

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.

House, mouse, blouse, etc. Tree, fee, bee ... street, feet, meet ...

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!"

Then Dad said, "Let's play a different game."

Skiing - 2020

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).

Me - Lookout Pass 2020

Somewhat surprisingly, as of 2020 most of us are still skiing regularly. George is on the ski patrol at his local area in Michigan.




Rick is active with the patrol at Mad River Mountain near Bellefontaine, Ohio.

Larry at Boyne Mountain, Michigan circa 1980.

   

Terry is a ski instructor at Terry Peak in South Dakota.

Terry at Terry Peak, South Dakota - 2020.

George at Killington, Vermont - March 1970

Steve at Breckenridge, Colorado - December 1970

I'm the ski school Technical Director at Lookout Pass Ski Resort on the Idaho-Montana border. 

Steve's career took him to Florida, but he still skis recreationally whenever he gets the chance. 

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.

Rick with daughter Jenny at Mad River Mountain, Ohio - 2016

Cars

1954 Dodge - Hemi! - Purchased used in 1968 - Sold 1968

1964 VW Karmann Ghia - only convertible I've ever
owned. - Purchased used in 1968 - Sold in 1969

1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 - definitely a car I wished I still
owned. Unfortunately someone ran a red light and nearly
totaled it. It was repaired, but was never the
same. - Purchased new in 1969 - Sold in 1971

1971 Chevrolet Vega - still upset by Z/28 accident
and also looking for better gas mileage - Purchased
new in 1971 - Sold in 1973

1973 Chevrolet Camaro - Purchased new in 1973 - Sold in 1976

1975 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1975 - Sold in 1978

1976 Honda XL125 motorcycle - purchased new in 1976 - sold in 1992.

1978 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1978 - Sold in 1981

1981 Chevrolet Chevette - Purchased new in 1981 - Sold in 1984

1978 Ford Courier - Purchased used in 1984 - Sold in 1985

1984 Mazda RX-7 - Purchased used in 1985 - Sold in 1985

1966 Chevrolet C10 4x4 Pickup - 327 4-speed - Purchased
used in 1986 - Sold in 1995  Letting this excellent condition
truck go was one of the worst decisions I ever made.
It was just a few years before it became a classic.

1984 Toyota Supra - Purchased used in 1988 - Sold in 1989

1984 Toyota Tercel Station Wagon 4x4 - Purchased
used in 1990 - Sold in 1997

1997 Chevrolet S10 4x4 Pickup - Purchased new in 1997 - Sold in 2016

2009 Ford Ranger - Purchased used in 2019

Can You Read Cursive?

"Beware the Ides of March!"

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."

Click the image to get an easier to read blowup.

Wow! 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.

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.

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.

Mary Dawn about 1983.

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.

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.

At almost that exact moment, Brook, a nice young instructor, also joined the line.

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.

I yelled over to him, "Brook, I'm riding up with Spencer, why don't you ride with Mary Dawn?"

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!"

That's all there is to it.  I hope you can use your imagination to understand why I remember this incident so fondly.

How Dad Quit Smoking

My Dad started smoking in his late teens, as was common with young men of his generation.  He usually smoked Lucky Strikes, which was a popular, "manly" cigarette, known for (and valued due to) its high tar and nicotine.

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.

Those letters on the bottom - LS/MFT say
Lucky Strike/Means Fine Tobacco

But it turned out there was more to the story.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

I was unaware that there was any "story" associated with Dad quitting and said so.

So Ruben tells me:

One day your Dad and I were talking.

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."

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₵.

"G-d d-mn it!" your Dad says, "I'm not paying 30₵ for an f-ing pack of cigarettes!"

Reasonably, I replied, "But Bill, what choice do you have?"  I laughed, "What are you going to do?  Stop smoking?"

"H-ll, yes." your Dad replied, "I'll quit.   I'm not paying 30₵ for a d-mn pack of cigarettes!"

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!"

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.

But he never did.

Merry Christmas!