Too Damn Long...

and for some reason this has been a really hard anniversary of dad's murder.  I think this has been particularly hard because of the recent (over the last year) feelings of some, that law enforcement is the enemy. It has caused several ambushes that have made it difficult to not think of dad every time one of these incidents happen.

I think of these fine men and women who do what they do because they love it.  Because they want to help people, yet every one of them wants and deserves to go home at the end of their shift.  My heart goes out to all the families and friends (both by blood and badge) who love them and miss them.  I don't know you, but I feel your pain every time I hear of one of them being gunned down.  I know you will never be the same.  Your life has changed forever and you will forever carry a hole in your heart that can't be fixed.  I am so sorry.

I generally post a wonderful tribute to dad on this day but today, I'm doing something different.  I'm finally going to let it all out.  To say what I've wanted to say for so many years.  I don't care if it shows no dignity or class, today, I don't care.

Claude Dallas, I'm tagging you on this post because I hope during an internet search that one of your "friends" will find this.

Bill Pogue and Conley Elms will never be forgotten.  They were good men doing a good job.  You, however, are a bloodsucking leach.  You have sucked the life out of most everyone you have come in contact with.  I've heard you spend your time looking over your shoulder - worried that someone may come for you.  Well, keep looking. I hear that you won't stay anywhere long enough to get a drivers license, mail box, or leave any track.  Good, that warms my heart.  I hope you spend every day of the rest of your life wondering when and where.  I hear about you and keep track of you.  I often know where you are and what you're doing.  You don't consume my thoughts or my life, but I watch you.  I hope you never feel comfort or complete calm.  I will now leave you with that...

The Regulator...

When we lived in Winnemucca, dad walked into the Power Company one day and saw this beautiful old Regulator clock on the wall.  It didn't work and dad asked if he could buy it.  They told him that if he would buy them a working wall clock he could just have it.

Dad took the clock and fixed it and it's been on the wall of every house I ever remember living in.  Dad collected clocks and each of us kids were assigned a clock (except Kate and she got Grama's beautiful old Victrola).  Steve and Linda got their clocks years ago but this Regulator was mine and it always belonged on mom's wall.  I never had the urge to even ask for it.

On my birthday, mom delivered the clock.  Part of me was so excited as I knew it would look right at home in our house, but part of me was sad.  I still think it needs to be on mom's wall, but she insisted I take it.

So, here it is, along with my new furniture...

It fits right in, doesn't it?  Thanks mom, you know I will love it just as much as you do.

I Painted A Chair. and I'm Back - For Sheri...

My sweet friend Sheri was one of my 2 loyal readers when I quit blogging a few years ago.  I heard from her yesterday - her cancer is back and I felt helpless wishing I lived closer so I could help her if she needed it.  Since we live so far apart, I decided if I could occasionally bring a smile to her face by bringing back my blogging, I would do it.  So Sheri, here's to a quick recovery and hopefully, an occasional smile!  I love you, friend!

Several years ago I got this chair from a neighbor who was moving.  It was FREEEEEE!   We always love free don't we?  My other neighbor saw me hauling the free chair across the street and a few days later hauled the ottoman over saying I needed it to go with the chair.

As I discovered, the chair was a Pottery Barn chair and in great shape, but, it was neked!

 

 

So when we moved here 3 years ago, I had my sister Linda make a slip cover for it.  It looked nice for a while, then it faded and what I was thinking when I picked this fabric, well, I have no idea.

 

 

A few weeks ago, I was so tired of looking at it that I decided the grandkids and I would try tie-dying it!  Oh gawd was it ugly...

 

The, I saw where people were actually painting furniture.  I figured it couldn't look any worse than the tie-dye nastiness so I gave it a shot.  I found a beautiful chalk paint called Peacock and got a bright white as a contrast.

 

This is what it looked like after 1 coat...

 

 

 So I gave it a second, then a third coat and decided the seat was too plain...

 

 

Then decided it needed a plaid seat cushion!  2 1/2 days later, this is what I got.  I love it!  The fabric isn't stiff other than the seat cushion. By then I was tired of working on it and put the paint on too thick, but I think it will soften up as it's used.

 

Hopefully it will hold up for a few years.  Meg, your chair is waiting for you!

 

 

The Custom Hat...

I was working in the kitchen when I saw our mail lady drive down the driveway.  Hmmmm, that only happens when I get something too big for the mailbox and I didn't recall ordering anything.  As she handed me a rather large box, I instantly recognized the handwriting as my brothers.  He really should have been an Architect, he has the writing of one.

He sends me things just out of the blue sometimes but in his familiar handwriting, I noticed the box read, "HAT, do not crush."

I opened the box and inside was a beautiful, new cowboy hat. I immediately called my brother and asked why he sent me a hat.

"That was dad's."  Wow.  Why don't I remember it?  I hate that.  You'd think I'd remember every detail there was about dad after he was killed.  I felt instant guilt that I didn't recognize it. 

But, there's a wonderful story behind this hat, and several others he had.  One of dad's patrol areas included the Idaho City area.  He got to become very good friends with Charlie and Manetta Shrite.  In fact, he ended up buying some property directly across Hwy 21 from their house.

I remember Charlie always laughing.  He was such a character.  Manetta was a tiny little thing but she was tough.  She owned Rowell's Hat Shop.  She didn't have machines.  Every hat was made by hand.  She had a funny thing that she placed on your head to measure your shape so the hat fit perfectly.  It looked something like this...

She made hats for celebrities and regular folk.  She made many for Paul Revere and the Raiders.  She also loved dad, and made several for him.

So, here's the hat...

 

and inside, I was excited to see it was one of his custom hats, made by Manetta.

 

We have so little left that belonged to dad, I love it when something shows up that will stay with us kids and someday be passed on to our kids, and their kids and for generations yet to come.  This special delivery made a kind of crappy day, ever so much better.

 

Thanks, Steve.  I'm sorry you didn't have a place to display it, but I'm grateful you sent it.

Do You Love Her!?

I've received emails about German Shepherds from Rescueme.org for many years.  Yesterday I got one about a beautiful girl named Sheena.  She was given up by her owner who abused her.  She loves other dogs, kids, cats and critters, does well with men despite her abuse but is fearful of beer bottles and the smell of beer.  And, she's still a puppy!

I think I'm in love...

All the Critters...

Ival and I are critter people.  We love having animals around and spending time with them.  Ival loves them all - but not me.

Moose is my "sweet baby," the goats are "my boys," the donkeys are "my girls," but the turkeys are "you bastards."  Yep, they better taste good this fall.

Now that we have the screen door, I leave the front door open all day.  Every few minutes I hear their little feet on my porch.  They sit in my swing and chairs, on top of my tables and crap on everything. I put the spray nozzle on the hose about a week ago and started spraying them any time I heard them on the porch. Ival said " they'll learn real quick not to get up here!"  Really?  They're turkeys.  They have a brain the size of a pea.

So, I spend much of my days racing out the door, picking up the hose which I leave about a foot from the front door, and yelling "get off my porch you dirty bastards!" as they're getting hosed down.



Here they are, just waiting for me to go back inside so they can get back up on the porch.

Turning 58...

One more try at blogging on this nasty computer.  It skips about every fourth letter and is incredibly frustrating, but I wanted to remember this - and hope someday my kids will re-read my blogs to remember the things that were important to me.

I don't feel like I've gotten over our trip to Nevada.  Its so frustrating to know that some of dad's things are out there somewhere, and we don't have them.  But I'm grateful for so much and I'll continue working to bring those items home where they belong.

I've been thinking as I get older, how incredibly grateful I am for my mom.  I learned so much from dad while he was here.  How to get the best deal on a vehicle, the kinds of people you can trust, and how to saddle a horse and drive.  There's a lot more - things I didn't realize I was learning at the time, but I now understand.

But mom has been such a strong influence on all of us and I'm so thankful for that.  When we are younger, we don't think we need help. We want to do it all on our own, but later, thankfully, realize that parents can be such a huge help.  I know it was frustrating and heartbreaking for mom to watch us make mistakes, knowing that things could have been done differently.   I often wonder how you have survived us 4 kids!

Mom, I welcome your advice and actually wish you gave it more freely.  I know when I was younger you didn't want to butt in.  But I want you to know that I now am thankful every time you offer it.  You have lived a difficult life and experienced things that I wish you hadn't, but it has made you so tender, loving, giving, and smart.

I don't know anyone who is more generous and thoughtful.  When we struggle you are always there.  You have made me so incredibly proud.  I've always wished I had your grace and dignity.  Although I've found that difficult to obtain, you have taught me to be grateful for what I have, that life is good, and to love and be thankful for the wonderful family and friends I have.

I want you to know mom, that on this birthday, I am so grateful for YOU.  I'm so happy you live so close, that we enjoy each other's company, and that I can talk to you about anything and you will always love me - even though I can sometimes be hard to love.

Thanks for taking on the role of 2 parents and doing so well at it. I hope someday I can be as great an influence on my own kids.

We all love you more than we can ever tell you.  Thanks for always being there.

After 33 Years, The Search...

For over 30 years, our family has wondered what had happened to some of dad's things.  His watch, wedding ring, Fish and Game belt buckle ad badge had never been recovered.  It wasn't that we hadn't tried to find these things, we just hadn't been successful.

At Claude's last parole hearing we asked the Parole Board to ask him where the items were.  He told them he didn't know.  We knew that wasn't true.  I found a guy on a public forum about the incident who had taken Claude sailing after his release from prison and asked him to ask him.  Again, he "couldn't remember." 

So, several months ago, I got ahold of this friend again and asked him (on the public forum) to ask Claude if he and I could meet so that he might feel the need to finally tell us where these items were so they could come back to the family where they belong.  Here is our conversation:

Sam, next time you talk to Claude ask him if he would consider meeting me. I know he's close enough that I could make the drive to wherever. I'd like to think if he's the decent guy you say he is, he could give me the answers to a few questions I have. No angry words, no cameras. It's time. Let me know what you find out, you know how to get ahold of me but I don't need a call with your opinions, just let me know if he's willing to meet and where.

Jodi,
Roger that. No calls with my opinions. Where Claude is remains not for publication. The next time I talk to him I will ask him about meeting you. Claude and I have talked about this before, some time after you and I talked. At that time the answer was an emphatic no. I will see what he has to say now.

Jodi: I talked to Claude last night about your request. It simply will not happen. Even if he were living as close as Meridian, which he is not, he would not do it. Sorry.

No surprise. I thought maybe after all these years he might feel it was the right thing to do - to tell us where my dad's belongings are. He still isn't man enough to face a woman. The dark side of the devil... What a shame.

Have it your way. I have no dog in this hunt. He said, again, he won't meet with you. He also said that he has no idea of what happened to your father's things. As far as he knew, they are where your father's remains were--which has to be a matter of public record, though I am not privy to it--and could be located with a metal detector. That's been posted here before.

Although it has been over 30 years, I decided it was time to go to the site with metal detectors where dad's body had been found.  In my heart, I knew the chances of finding anything were beyond slim, but I was tired of wondering and knew I had to put an end to it.  I contacted the Humboldt County Sheriff' office to see if they could give me the location of the site.  Undersheriff Curtiss Kull let me know that not only would he find the site for us, but he and the Sheriff wanted to bring their Search and Rescue Team with metal detectors to help us.

We gathered a group of family and friends (some of the best people on earth) and set a trip and went down last Thursday. Curtiss made the drive from Winnemucca to meet us Thursday evening so that he could show us the site before the group of searchers arrived the next day.  He was so sensitive and he made it obvious that he truly cared about our family.

While this was an emotional trip as far as knowing that we would finally have an answer to this part of our questions, I had told our group that I didn't want this trip to be solemn and sad.  I wanted us to be able to enjoy great company, meet new friends, and spend a few days in a new area.  Mission accomplished.

I wanted to tell everyone about this trip before we went, but we didn't want the media to find out we were going.

So, here in pictures, is our trip...

 Setting up camp







I took 2 bottles of huckleberry wine down and Linda and I drank one rather quickly.  Missouri decided we needed a sobriety test.  Fail.

Missouri taking a shower under the rancher's sprinkler system 



They had to do a little shooting

Bright and early the next morning, a rancher stopped by to let us know they would be bringing some cows right through our camp

Those young cowboys were, ummmm, CUUUUUUTE!

and then we have a whole other story here.  Linda (God Bless her) was still in her uh, morning garb as the cowboys came through.  One came back to go get his truck and Linda decided to help him by offering to close the gate behind him so he didn't have to get off his horse.  He politely took her offer then sped off as fast as he could leave her behind.  Poor, sweet, terrified cowboy had his horse at a dead run as I watched him and his horse fall in a huge cloud of dust.  Being a good cowboy, he kept hold of the reins as he pitched over the horse's head.  He slowly got up, looked back and saw Linda in her getup, and jumped back on his horse never to be seen again.  I'm sure he's in therapy...

Nancy and Cliff cooked us breakfast.  It was yummy!

the volunteers started showing up

 Undersheriff Curtiss leads the way

Linda wanted to leave a marker so she made something out of beads and she and Nancy stacked some rocks

When the search was over, we visited and ate some doughnuts with our new friends

This was Joe (in the red shirt).  He's retired from Washoe County SO and was involved in the original manhunt.  He and a friend drove from Reno because they wanted to meet us and help.  He was so sweet.

Lots of hugs and thank you's, but I don't think we can ever tell these folks what their help meant to us.  I can't count how many times I heard these folks say "God bless your family."

and then, believe it or not, it was over and my camera batteries died...

We took Curtiss, Joe and our wonderful friends to dinner that night as a small token of our thanks.  As we left the next morning, we had to make a curiosity stop at George Neilson's bar.  Missouri pee'd on it.

 I like to think I learn something from every experience in my life.  So, what did I learn from this one?  To quote one of my favorite movies of all time - "Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're going to get."

I learned that we will never find dad's wedding ring and watch - but I'm glad we tried.

I learned that I wish we had been emotionally able to do this 30 years ago.

That there are soooo many good people in this world.

That I love huckleberry wine!

That a cowboy can be scared right off his horse.

That Missouri is afraid of no one and nothing (but snakes)

That I love seeing Cliff laugh until he cries.

That Charley is one hell of a man to live with my sister.

That I made what I hope will be, some new life-long friends.

That dad's belt buckle, badge, and name tag were burned at George Neilson's bar, found, then sent to Owyhee County.  Hopefully, they will be discovered there and returned to our family along with his cowboy boots.

But most of all I learned that I have the most wonderful family and friends and I will always be grateful to you for helping me finally realize the dream of taking on this task.  Although we came home with nothing we went for, it was by no means, a waste of time.