Jibberish

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It’s now July 8, and I must get creative, but first I need food.

That’s a haiku poem. Really it is I know this. They don’t have to rhyme.

Actually, both of those are haiku. Not a planned one, but it kinda worked out. In case you don’t know, haiku poems consist of 3 lines in a 5-7-5 syllable format. It’s interesting to make words fit that pattern because you just never know what comes out. At least, I don’t.

Yesterday it rained buckets and buckets, after I got home from golf. Didn’t get rained on even one time on the golf course so it must have been fun, right? It was, even though I did my usual terrible game. To help with my frustration, I’ve started counting only the good strokes which allow me to wind up with a respectable score. I know, that doesn’t make sense because I’m not in competition with anyone so why bother, right? I think I’ll just skip the scorecard next time.

It’s supposed to start clearing up today so maybe I can mow the yard again. I kinda like following my exercise machine around the yard. Makes it pretty and Diane likes that.

Our 3 blueberry bushes are producing prodigious amounts of berries since we fenced them off from the deer. I could have done that in years past but figured the deer like the berries more than I did. That, and picking them is a lot like a job that must be done every day till they are all gone. The deer kept them neatly trimmed.

Yesterday afternoon Diane looked out the kitchen window and saw one of the neighbor’s small goats with his head through the fence around their garden chomping away on what I think was a potato bush. Maybe it’s just a plant. I don’t know. It just has lots of leaves and the goat really liked it. I went out and watched for a while, then let Jeff know what was going on so he could call Jen, the neighbor, so she might salvage part of the plant. In hindsight, I suspect I probably should have let them know sooner. Goats can eat a lot in a short period of time. I’m thinking about renting a couple of Jen’s goats to eat the blackberry bushes across the street where we park some of our vehicles. I’ve cut them down numerous times over the years but they just won’t go away. If you aren’t plagued with blackberries let me know. I’ll send you some. I’m pretty sure doing that would violate a bunch of laws, but I’m willing to chance it if you are.

Actually, I’m not. I won’t send them to you, but you are more than welcome to come visit and take with you as many of the vines as you wish when you leave. If you wait for another month, or so, you can pick some ripe berries and make me a pie which I will happily eat as I watch you toil. I’m really good at sitting around watching people toil. Just ask Diane. She’ll tell you I’m right. I’m a professional toil watcher.

On Monday Diane got up early so she could get me to my VA appointment in Hillsboro on time. Like normal, she dropped me off out front then made a beeline to her favorite store (Goodwill) up the street a ways.

I wandered up to the 3rd floor, arriving in plenty of time, only to learn that I really didn’t have an appointment. Well, I did, but it isn’t until July 28th. I was 22 days early. That’s kind of epic, don’t you think? I mean, people are either a little early or late by a matter of minutes, but 22 days? Really?

I didn’t call Diane right away to inform her that she got the appointment wrong on the calendar because I knew it would ruin her chi. I kinda do that unintentionally on a regular basis, ruin her chi, throughout the course of a week but not quite as profoundly as getting an appointment wrong by 22 days. Oh, and it wasn’t her that got it wrong. It was me.

Finally I called her and she answered while digging through a pile of clothes in children’s sizes that had just been made available. It would have been easier to report my mistake if she’d been in the book section instead. Nope. Had to catch her in the kids clothes.

I told her what I’d done then went outside to sit on the curb because I didn’t want to wear my little Sponge Bob mask any longer. I told her to take her time but she rushed right back to get me. Unfortunately, Goodwill isn’t far enough away from the VA facility to allow disappointment to fade away. Not even my bright and smiley face could make it better. Thankfully, she was hungry (hangry, actually) so she drove us to Elmer’s to see if it was open. It was, so we had breakfast. After coffee and a couple pieces of really crispy bacon, she was OK and we could safely continue with our day. The trip to town wasn’t a total waste. For me a trip anywhere with my bride is special. Even to a very early doctor appointment.

After we got home I think we both took naps. Going to the Portland area does that to us. Actually, getting up and walking around the house for a while does that. Naps a good.

Looking back a few paragraphs made me hungry so I’m feel the need to go fire up the stove and cook something. If I don’t I’m sure I’ll go into a diabetic coma and that’d make Diane a little cranky. It always does.

Stay safe and keep your distance.

4th of July & Other Stuff

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Yesterday was the 4th of July, the day when everyone in our town gathers on the streets near our house to ignite all the fireworks they’ve accumulated since they became available in mid-June. There is speculation that some folks fire off rockets left over from last year but I’m pretty sure that isn’t true because the noise begins on July 1st with a few sticks of dynamite being ignited sporadically every few hours. The tempo increases each day until the 4th when it seems to become a competition to see who can make the most noise until everyone runs out of ammo.

Prior to enjoying the neighbors noise, Diane and I went downtown for a flag raising ceremony at the old court house. That’s done at 1:30 pm, prior to the bell ringing at 2:00 pm. The American Legion Post 42 in St. Helens, to which I belong, provides the manpower to ring the bells all over town at facilities that have bells to ring. They are in churches, and the fire department mainly, in addition to the bell near the public docks in front of the old court house. That one is from the old Warrior Rock lighthouse up the river a ways from St. Helens. The bell was moved and was replaced by a new one at some point in the past.

That’s the bell I’ve been ringing for a number of years but Roger has taken over that job because I was a bit late one year. So I just go along to help Roger count to 13. That’s what we do with the ringing – 13 times starting at 2:00 pm, one strike for each of the original colonies.

This is Roger and me.

Me and Roger

I know. We look the same except he trims his beard, I don’t.

For reference, this one is of my Bride and me. Diane doesn’t have a beard.

Technically, anything that attains a lofty altitude, then explodes, is illegal in Oregon, but those devises are readily available in Washington which is just a hop and a skip away over the river. So, anyone willing to spend a small fortune on things that go boom, loads up and returns home to share with their neighbors, whether or not the neighbors wish to participate. Even though they are illegal, the police aren’t prone to pursue those who break that law. Nope. They just turn a blind eye and let everyone fire at will.

As a result, the sky around our house is filled with rockets firing every which way and the exploded debris drifts all around us with the smell of cordite lingering in the air. It makes for a pleasant evening, for sure. The dogs love it, of course. We let Ziva on the porch so she can bark her happiness non-stop during the entire display. I let her bark as much as she likes with the hope that someone will complain about the noise, but I don’t see that happening.

This year, with the pandemic rules still being enforced, most large fireworks displays were cancelled which saved the towns tons of money. I think that after seeing what happens when things are locked down, they will never sponsor another expensive display again. There were fireworks being fired off all over town, and all across the visible horizons, 20-30 miles away. Diane mentioned that if everyone who had fireworks would have taken them down to the river, where the big show usually takes place, the display would have been better than what usually goes up in the air and it would have lasted longer, too.

Today Ziva was none the worse for wear but we were concerned because she’s pretty old for a big dog. Fourteen, I think, and her joints are starting to fail on her. That’s a sad story for another day …

Later in the day, on Sunday, we made a trip to the country to visit some long lost relatives. We see these guys once every 10 years or so which is understandable because they live about 30 miles away. Considering how much we all drive during the course of a year you’d think we’d connect more often, right? Well, Debra, my cousin, and matron of all those we visited, declared that we’re going to do this more often in the future. As a matter of fact, we’ve already set a date.

The fact that Debra’s daughter, Alicia, and her family, Adam, Ivy, Autumn, Cora, and their dog Gemma, have recently become residents of St. Helens may have something to do with her sudden desire to make this visiting thing a regular event.

Adam, you may remember, was recently hired as the Youth Pastor for Daniel and Jennifer’s church. It’s also Cedric’s, Lydia’s, and Jeran’s church. Getting that job closed a very serendipitous loop of events bringing all of our families closer together. Now that they live closer to us, Lydia doesn’t have to drive so far to get her ‘Cousin Fix’ with the girls. That’s handy.

Here’s who was there – First there was the baby, Ava, who the new Mom, Nicole, rarely saw during our visit.

Then, there were all of the little one’s parents, siblings, cousins, uncles, and aunts, for a final total of 33 people.

During this event we helped celebrate two birthdays. Once for Lizzy, and once for Jada who is soon to be 11. Lizzy got the lemon drop cake that Jennifer made. Jada got the oreo cake.

That’s it for now as I must depart for a visit to Hillsboro to see my VA doctor so she can tell me how great I’m doing.

Hope everyone had a fun and safe 4th.

Reunion

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Well, it wasn’t really a reunion, more like a visit from some of our favorite relatives. That would be Bob, Steffani, and Maryssa. Making it even better, Lydia and Jeran found their way up the hill to join the fun. Hearing all the noise up stairs, Jeff, Heather, Gilligan, Baylee, and Jerrie joined the crowd. It was a busy time in the old house for a while.

Gilligan, Jeran, Baylee, Maryssa, Lydia, Steffani’s feet, Baylee’s feet, Bob’s feet
Maryssa, Lydia, Steffani, Jerrie, Bob

Since we don’t all get together very often a discussion was had about when the last time it happened. Thanks to modern technology, someone (Maryssa, I think) resurrected an old photo that depicts the moment. I have no idea when it was taken, but it was definitely our back yard, and all the older children were still struggling toward adulthood.

Cedric, Lydia, Gilligan, Baylee, Maryssa, Jerrie, Heather (Mom of the three littles)

Having found this photo everyone thought it would be fun to recreate the photo but we could do it with 100% accuracy because Cedric is currently floating around in the Pacific Ocean on his way to Guam, his Mother’s native country. He’s on the USS Nimitz CVN-68.

So, Jeran stepped ups to fill his older brother’s shoes and we came away with this …

Jeran, Gilligan, Lydia, Baylee, Maryssa, Heather, Jerrie

It’s pretty close and will serve the purpose. I suspect Cedric will approve.

Cheers.

Here’s an update – Maryssa was the instigator of recreating the photo because the original was taken 8 years ago on this same day. Nifty.

Golf with my Bride

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Yesterday was a stellar day. Diane went golfing with me for the first time in many years and she finally got her new set of golf clubs a little dirty.

The clubs, I must add, are about 10 years old, but they were still brand new because she’s never used them until yesterday. It was a happy day in the sunshine.

There were two big obstacles for her to go golfing with me:

  • The weather was either too cold or too hot.
  • Too many people around watching her.

So, yesterday was a rare day and it was initiated by her … she told me she wanted to go with me. That made it interesting for me because I’d just golfed with my buddy Doug the day before so she was setting me up for two days in a row. That’s unheard of in Jerrie’s World of Golf.

But, no way was I going to turn down a date with my Sweetheart.

I made a tee time for 10:12. We were there in plenty of time but we were just slow enough that the couple we were paired with had already teed off so we had to go alone. Darn, said Diane, although I’m sure she would have gone anyway. Still, being on our own was a better choice.

Getting off the first tee is always a challenge for me so I appreciated Diane’s bravado in kicking us off. She didn’t go far, but she went straight, as she did every time she hit the ball. Me? I can hit it a long ways, and generally straight, just not the direction I think it should go. It’s Army Golf for me – left, right, left, etc…

It was a beautiful day and I’ve not seen Diane smile as much in one day for a long time. We had a great time visiting buzzing around in the cart looking for my balls. Her’s were always easy to find. Mine were a challenge most of the time.

After we finished our round on the course we were tempted to just continue on to the beach for lunch but chose to just head home with a stop at Costco on the way – we needed toilet paper, I think. Got a bunch of other stuff, too.

I’m hoping she found our time together on the links as enjoyable as I did and will make this a recurring date.

You might wonder what our scores were but none of us will never know. I just gave us alternating bogeys and double bogeys all the way around. Looks good on paper.

My Lifer Wife

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On the surface, being called a Lifer could be construed as an insult, but that’s only in the mind of someone who has no intention of staying in the military any longer than they have to. I’ll also share that many of those who used the word “Lifer” as a negative wished they had chosen that life in their waning years.

Being a Lifer is a commitment to making the military a career, sticking it our for at least 20 years. I made that decision, with my Wife’s concurrence, in 1973, just five years after we were married. At that point she had only experienced two commands with me – NAVCOMMSTA Okinawa, and USDAO Rome, Italy. You wouldn’t think that was enough to make a career decision, but she did.

During the course of ‘her’ career we were sent to some interesting commands, only a few of which were centered in and around San Diego, California. Even so, San Diego quickly became her favorite port.

Our time in San Diego meant that I was stationed aboard one ship or another and spent a lot of time at sea, away from home, six months at a time. Perhaps that’s the part she really enjoyed. I don’t know. She never said. Even if that’s true, I think the larger part of the attraction was the life-long friends we met along the way and the demeanor of people who live on military bases. There’s a certain camaraderie throughout a military complex that we never experienced anywhere else. Maybe it’s just us. Who knows? We just like it.

Even now, when we travel, we plan our trips to include stops at various military bases along our route, staying in temporary quarters, and enjoying the atmosphere of those surroundings.

Although the sound of jets flying by on a Naval Air Station make her eyes sparkle, it’s the underlying aroma of machinery and fresh paint of a Naval Base, like San Diego, that truly has her heart. There’s just something about it that triggers good memories.

This was brought home to me yesterday when we were watching an episode of “The Good Witch”, there was a moment where the wife suggested they just up anchor and move to France. The husband, a doctor, gave it a little thought and agreed they should do that. After another brief pause, the wife reported that they didn’t really have to go, but it was really nice to know he was willing to make such a move. It was a test. He passed.

That interaction prompted me to ask Diane, “of all the places we’ve been in our lives, where would you most like to live?”

Without hesitation, she said, “San Diego. Not in the city, but not far from the ocean. That way we can drive by and smell the ships once in a while.”

I’d never thought about it that way, but that’s really kinda what we do. We smell the ships.

It’s just a little bit intoxicating.

Today

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While Diane was reading my entry about “Yesterday”, she reported that she had photos of yesterday. I did not know that. So, now I’m getting them and will share them with you.

First, I just share me in my COVID face mask that Jennifer made for me.

It’s Sponge Bob, one of my favorites, and it’s very comfortable. I only wear it to Walmart.

This is me relaxing at home …

It’s relaxing because I don’t shave. I’m protesting the virus.

Here’s me and the ice cream cake. That’s not 76 candles but it sure looks like enough fire to melt all that ice cream. But, it didn’t.

In case you’re wondering, That’s Ivy’s left ear in the foreground, in case you were wondering. The sister to her left is Autumn.

Here’s a good photo of my left ear and a fireball on top of the cake. Pretty awesome.

That’s it. I got no more.

Yesterday

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Yesterday was my birthday. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to stir up a panic situation causing everyone to wish me a happy birthday all at once. I’m sure it would have brought the internet to its knees and we can’t have that. Especially in the midst of a pandemic. No sir. I didn’t want that on my conscience. Surely it would have been the end of me. So, I kept it a secret from the masses to avert an overload on the world’s limited supply of internet connections.

Now that the party is over (yes, someone had a party for me) I can let you know that I am now 76 years old. Wow! I’m amazed that Diane let me live this long. I must admit there were moments when my continued presence in this world was in peril due to something stupid I said, or did, but we got through those rough patches and it’s all good.

Yesterday’s party was attended by Diane, Jeff, Jennifer, Heather, Tiana, Ivy, Lydia, Autmn, Jeran, Cora, Gilligan, Baylee, Jerrie, and Me. Please note that the only male participants were Me, Jeff, and Jeran. That made it 10 to 3 in favor of the fairer gender, but that’s just fine.

I would include photos of the festivities but, since I was the main attraction, I wasn’t available to take the shots like normal. Someone did, however, get a shot of me blowing out my candles. I didn’t blow them out like normal, but just fanned the flame with my hands until the candles went out. It worked pretty well and I’m pretty sure no one was expecting that.

Diane and the kids always ask me what I want for my birthday and my standard answer has always been “World Peace.” That worked well until a few years ago Jennifer actually gave me that. she made a PEACE sign and put a picture of the world behind it. She’s very creative that way. I haven’t some up with a viable alternative yet. I’m OK just living another day and being able to see all of these people frequently.

Three of the attendees most of you don’t know. That’s Ivy, Autumn, and Cora. They were spawned by Adam and Alicia. Alicia is my 2nd cousin because she’s the daughter of my 1st cousin Deborah, daughter of my Mother’s Brother, Uncle Lowell.

Got that? So, when it’s all said and done, Ivy, Autumn, and Cora are my 3rd cousins. I’m pretty sure that’s true. They sprouted from the Friday family side of my life.

My party was awesome. I even ate a piece of the ice cream cake Jennifer brought and it hardly elevated my BS level at all. Just a little over the desire number, but not much. It was good to spend time with my family and to get a chance to know a little about my 3rd cousins. Now all we have to do is get their parents over once in a while so we can get to know our 2nd cousins.

That’s about enough nonsense for today.

Hope all is well with all of you.

Here’s my newly installed flag pole that I won in an American Legion raffle about 10 years go. It resides where the Walters’ kids climbing tree used to be. Nice. Jeff worked really hard to get the tree down and drill a huge hole in the stump so the flag pole could be installed by my birthday. He did well.

Social Distancing & Alicia’s Baby Girl

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Social distancing is what I’m practicing by not adding one post after another like I used to. Actually, that isn’t something I’ve done recently, just when I first began this journey. Back then I thought it was my job to make an entry every day. It was pretty easy until I started running out of nouns.

At this point in my new life as a sequestered servant, I’m waiting for someone to deliver the new starter motor for my riding lawn mower. It’s supposed to be here today before 9 pm. That was an interesting time of day for them to pick. I also think I was informed that the USPS would be the final leg of it’s journey and they don’t deliver mail after 5 pm.

Diane is working on the election board again. Hopefully it will be another normal day, getting home at 5:30 pm. Up to this point she and her team are dealing with the ballots voters turned in early, like all good people should. Makes it a lot easier when it comes to the final day. That will be Tuesday. That will be a late night because there’re always folks who wait until the last minute to submit their ballots. It’s their right. I get that.

Long pause …

In the midst of this, the starter motor arrived so I installed it and put the mower back together. There were only 6 screws left over so I consider that. win. Actually, those 6 screws were already in the little magnetic tray I use when dissembling stuff. Hard telling where they came from but nothing has fallen apart in the last few months so it’s all good.

The mower works great, by the way. I didn’t try starting it until I had it all back together, an act that I usually shun. As a computer tech, I learned early, that you don’t button up the case until you make it work. If you don’t do that, it won’t work and you’ll have to take it apart again to fix whatever you did wrong. It always works if you check it before putting in all those screws. Really, it does.

Now for some fun stuff. The following photo is one I took of my golf ball imbedded in the remains of a very soft stump. It was sitting in my way about 50-60 yards from the tee which should give you an idea of how high I can hit the ball. It was a terrible lie and I suppose I could have pulled it out and dropped it, but this was a challenge. I t took me six hits to get it out of there, but I didn’t count 5 of them. Seemed fair at the time. I do the same with sand traps. When I land in one of those I use a rule we made up where you only have to take two swings at it before you can pick it up and throw it in the direction you want it to go. Sometimes I actually get it out on the first hit.

This next one is some chalk artwork on the street in front of our house. We live on a private road that serves us and the 7 other homes. Neither the city nor the county maintains I so it’s not in the best shape, and has little cracks all over it. So, kids with chalk made it pretty by drawing along each crack and it turned out like this …

Kind of festive, don’t you think? Sadly, it all goes away when it rains.

Here’s the dogwood tree in the front yard before a couple of really hot days caused them to all drop all the pretty flowers in the yard …

Now it’s just a tree with green leaves.

Moving to a more poignant topic that I missed earlier in the month, I must report that Alicia’s Baby Girl (ABG), Adam’s, too, turned 18 on May 5th. In my defense, I don’t normally report on birthday’s outside the immediate family. However, Alicia & Adam moved from Damascus to St. Helens recently so Lydia wouldn’t have to drive all that way to visit with the girls (Ivy, Autumn, & Cora). Now she only has to drive about a mile making her gas bill more reasonable.

It’s Cora, the family Baby, who had the birthday and I missed it even though I knew it was coming. I’m a little saddened that Alicia didn’t call me on it. I think subconsciously I forgot just so she would remind me. But she didn’t.

So, Cora, in addition to welcoming you to St. Helens, let me sing you a song:

  • Happy Birthday to you.
  • Happy Birthday to you.
  • Happy Birthday dear Cooorrraaaaaa.
  • Happy Birthday to you.

Had you called me on the appropriate day and reminded me of those significant event, I’d have actually sung it to you in person. I always do. Ask anyone.

OK, Birthday is over. You’re 18 and it’s time to either get a job or join the Navy. The Navy reference is important because it’s not a “job”, it’s an “adventure”. Just ask Diane.

I don’t have a photo of Cora when she was a tiny human so I used one Alicia sent me. Rumor has it that this is how big Cora was when the Pinkston clan took possession of her. The grown up photo, is actually her. I know because Lydia took it.

I hear Jeff chopping on the stump out front so I probably should go watch him in case he injures himself. We try to always have someone available during manual labor evolutions to call 911 should the need arise.

Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.

Good News!

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Diane had her virtual doctor visit this afternoon to find out what’s going on with the spots in her lungs. The doctor said that none of the spots, especially the big one (about the same size as the end of your little finger), have changed even a tiny bit so she believes them to be scar tissue from past infections.

Next visit is planned for October, then the doc thinks she will be on a 2-year schedule for a CT scan.

Time for my Happy Dance.

Jerrie

Gene Who?

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Last Saturday Diane told me that Gene called and left a message littered with a lot of descriptive adjectives regarding my heritage and failure to communicate with the older generation of Cates. Diane told me every day since then that I needed to call Gene back and find out where he learned all those words. Today I finally called back to talk with him but totally forgot to ask that critical question. We just talked and reminisced about the Good Old Days.

Normally when I capitalize things like that I make it an acronym that would allow me to use it elsewhere in my post without having to type all those words. In this case, however, I won’t because using GOD for good old days just doesn’t seem right to me. So, I won’t.

The good old days for Gene extend well beyond what I remember because he’s well into his 90’s, and his bride, Shirley, is 90. He told me that this evening so I’m fairly sure it’s true. They live in Mesa, Arizona. I’m pretty sure.

Regarding all those words Gener shared, and where he learned them, baused me reflect on Gene’s educational career. He wasn’t a teacher, or a professor, as far as I know, but he was a professional student for a long time. During that career he gathered many Master Degrees in various disciplines. I once asked him why he never took any of those disciplines to the doctorate level.

He told me he didn’t do that because doing so was expensive and the net gain just wasn’t worth it. He was just fine lingering around with Master Degrees and they served him well both in his work history and as a topic of conversation.

While some of that the info shared in that last paragraph, most of it is fiction because I just made it up. Even so, the act of doing that may have unlocked knowledge hidden in the deeper folds of my brain where I keep stuff I don’t think about very often.

Gene is a source of vast knowledge about our family history. Today he told me that our Aunt Maude’s granddaughter, who’s name is currently unknown at this time, has the Cate family history back to the 1100’s. That interests me a great deal. Though it’s incredibly unlikely this young lady will stumble across this post, and contact me, it could happen. The world is, after all, getting smaller every day thanks to internet magic.

So, young lady, who reportedly lives in the midwest, your Grandmother was my Aunt Maude, my Father’s sister. My father is James Lynn Cate Sr. He was born in Hebron, Nebraska in 1900 and passed from this plane of existence in St. Helens, in 1992. That’s enough history for now.

Back to Gene … my family has a history with him and his family that goes back decades. I won’t bore you with a lot of details. Just a few.

While Diane and I were stationed on Guam in the mid 70’s, he worked for the Micronesian Trust Territory and lived on Saipan. Figure the odds.

We had an opportunity to visit Saipan and visit with Gene and his family for a long weekend over one 4th of July. I have lots of pictures from the parade we attended on that little island but they are stuffed in a box somewhere. Waiting for us to find them and digitize them so we can enjoy them again.

Having family close at this time was great because when our daughter, Jennifer, was born in 1975, Gene’s daughter, Kathie, came to live with us for a while to help Diane take care of Jeff who was 3. And me. Yes, I needed to be taken care of. I’m sure all the women in my life will agree that I’m the one that needed Kathie’s attention. However, it was great that she came to us. Not only was she immensely helpful, we formed a strong bond that’s lasted, gee, right up to this very moment.

A lot has changed since the 70’s, but we’ve retained this strong family connection. So, as I age I need to make sure I remember that and call Gene more often. Like weekly. I need to do it that often so he’ll remember who I am. Like I said … he’s well into his 90’s.

I’m fairly safe smack-talking about Gene because not only does he not read this blog, he doesn’t know how. I did, however, give Shirley the address so she can look me up and catch up on all the gooy stuff that’s drained out of my brain over the years. Shirley knows how to use her computer so I’m actually knowingly throwing myself under the bus about all this beause Gene will read this.

So, hi, Gene. Hi, Shirley.

Did I mention that Gene was a Marine?