Written by Art Gardner:

Harvey and Henry Hartman, were a couple of old bachelors who lived on their homestead up the draw south of the Martin brother’s homestead. When Don was about 13 years old, Harvey and Henry asked Don to stay at their cabin for a short while to see that their horses had water while they were gone on a trip. They told him they would give him a certain little horse they had in exchange for his services. Don stayed as agreed. I don’t know how he did, as I learned later that their pastime on a rainy day was to turn the bedding back on their mattress and cremate the bed bugs living in the seams with a lighted match. Anyhow, when they got back they informed Don that he wasn’t getting any horse. So I went to see them. Henry was at their camp on Douglas Mountain, at Esther Campbell’s mother’s homestead. They never had much success as horse runners, but they were on the mountain trying. Henry said they no longer had the little horse Don was supposed to get, and they had no other that would be suitable. Don had told me they had an old obsolete high cantle saddle that he would settle for as payment. Henry agreed that he could have it. But in a short time when Don went over to their place with a borrowed horse to get the saddle, they had changed their minds. No saddle.

This was in the summer of 1934. At that time I was camped on land I had filed on, and was cutting and peeling logs for a homestead cabin. In a couple of days I rode off the mountain one day with Leona Maddox who was on her way to Craig. I had her drop me off a mile or so from the Hartman’s cabin and I walked down through the cedars to their cabin. There was no one at home so I took the saddle and carried it out a half a mile or more from their place and cached it in the fork of a cedar to pick up someday soon when I got a ride with Leona Maddux or someone. I figured this being a mail delivery day, one of the Hartman’s would be at the Post Office. When I walked in there, Harvey was there waiting for his mail, as were several others. That is exactly what I wanted…witnesses. I told Harvey I had taken the saddle, and why. He said, “Well, we will see about that.” I heard afterwards he went to town and told his sad story to the Sheriff. But the Sheriff wasn’t interested in any bickering between neighbors out there in Brown’s Park. Anyhow, he never came out to get me as Harvey had wanted him to do.

For years after that, whenever I met Harvey on the street in Craig I would say: “Hello Harvey.” And Harvey would stalk on by looking straight ahead. Until one day I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Midwest Café talking to Buck Tisdel and Duke Hughes. When Harvey came along, Buck and Duke spoke to Harvey, who had stopped, and I spoke as usual. Harvey spoke to Buck and Duke, but I didn’t exist and was completely ignored. Duke, who knew nothing of our little disagreement, said: “What’s the matter with you Harvey? Don’t you know enough to speak to a man when he speaks to you?” Then Harvey recognized my existence and spoke to me. After that he always spoke to me and later would even visit with me when we met in town. That spoiled a little bit of my fun in life. It had always amused me to say: “Hello Harvey,” and see him stalk past looking straight ahead.

TV

I remember watching 'The Walt Disney Show' on Sunday Nights as a kid. It was a big deal for us. Every Sunday evening there would be a different 1 hour show. It was usually a story about an animal or a boy. Something similar to 'Old Yeller' except it was one hour long and it was a different story each week. The family hardly ever missed it.

We also liked to watch the weekly episode of 'Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom'. That was a favorite too. We didn't have 300 channels to choose from in those days. Just the 3 network channels. There was only one TV, and no way to record an episode in orer to watch it later. If you missed your show, you were out of luck for that week.

Now days, there are so many options available. Hundreds of TV channels. Internet. Gameboys, PS2, Xbox, Movie rentals, TV on Demand, etc.

Still, a good episode of Wild Kingdom today is a pretty good view. Grace and Rose spent hours watching 'River Monsters' this weekend. Have we really come a long way, or does the 'old stuff' still have what it takes?

Super Sport

The other day on a trip to town we encountered a Chevrolet Super Sport (SS) 396. It was right ahead of us in traffic. It was cherry red, with the paint and chrome both immaculately polished. It had the wide rear wheels with nice polished chrome rims. Complete with dual exhaust, it had a nice growl as the engine revved at the stoplight. It was a beautiful sight, and it was well loved by its owner right down to the 'classic vehicle' license plate on the rear bumper.

Of course, I did what any red blooded American man would do and I uttered the words, "Nice Car!"

My 15 year old daughter who was in the back seat has little appreciation for the history of the automobile, or any history for that matter. She replied, "What are you talking about? That car is ugly!"

The paramedics were able to revive me, though not without some difficulty. I truly owe them for their medical prowess and expertise.

I'm just thankful that my best friend in Montana was not in the vehicle at the time...for no medical gadget the paramedics possessed would have been able to save him.

Superstition

I was never really superstitious, but my mother was. I remember she would never walk on opposite sides of a pole. If I walked on the opposite side, she would make me walk back around, or she would, so that we had both crossed on the same side.

I remember one specific incident in California though that has always stuck with me. Mom had a mole that had grown on her forehead I think. She took a bean, and rubbed it on the mole...and then told me to take the bean outside and bury it under the tree. Which I did. She said it would make the mole go away.

And guess what? The mole did go away! I never got over that!

Yet in spite of it all...I still ain't superstitious.

Clint Kobaba

When I lived in Craig, there was one kid I really hated. It was juvenile really...but in my defense: I was only a 4th grader. I didn't really like my name as a kid. It was a pretty unusual name. I just wanted to be something common like Jim or Bob. But NO, I was Clint. And the only other person in town (that I knew) whose name was Clint...was a kid named Clint Kobaba. He was probably an alright kid, except that he had the same name as me, and we saw him as a little doofie. ( Like I was Mr. Cool! ) He couldn't even give the bird right. Like that was some big 4th grade right of passage.

I hated Clint Kobaba. In reality for no good reason other than our names were the same. And he had greasy slicked back hair, and he couldn't give the bird right, and, well, yes, he was actually a little doofie. So why did the only other kid in town with the same name as me have to be doofie??

Now I can sit here and wonder...did he feel the same way about me???

Jaguar's

I lived in Compton California when I was in the 6th grade. One of the few white kids in my school. I kept to myself and walked home fast. It didn't always keep me safe. It must have been fun to pick on the scrawny white kid.

I remember the guy across the street from my Grandparents house. I don't remember his name, but I remember he had a big gate at the front of his driveway where the front of his house began. Behind the gate, in the driveway, and in the garage, and sometimes even in the back yard, were Jaguar cars. Some restored. Some in the process of being fixed. Some in the garage or really 'The Jaguar Workshop'. I don't remember him ever parking one in the driveway though. They were always hidden behind that big wooden gate.

Of Course, I was just a kid. I had no appreciation at the time for the craftsmanship and prowess that was associated with the 'Jaguar' cars. The neighbor was obviously a collector of Jaguar cars. He owned several of them and fixed them up behind that big wooden gate.

He showed them to me once. I had no idea what an awesome thing he was sharing with me at the time. All I knew was that he had an avocado tree in his front yard. I didn't appreciate them at the time either.

Now I like avocado's and Jaguar's...but still can't afford either one.

I guess some things never change.

Changing it up

I've grown weary of the Craig stuff. I'm going to try something different and share some of the memories stored in the archives of Skinton Clinton. I may go back to Craig stuff at some point. I didn't really tell all the gunk floating around inside my head.

Tuesday Night Rodeo's

40 years later and Craig still has Tuesday Night Rodeo's. Just think of all the bottles we could collect Andy!

West Theater

I find it kind of sad really, that 40 years ago I went to the West Theater to see a movie. Today, in 2010, it is still the town theater. Same building! Across the street from the Palace Drug I wrote about last week. This week they are showing Alice in Wonderland with Johnny Depp. Ironically, I probably went and saw the original Alice in Wonderland there.

Actually I can't remember any of the movies I went to see there except one. I don't remember the name, but it was a horror movie. A man was buried alive in a casket and he was scratching and pounding when he woke up. I think I had bad dreams for a month. I can't remember who took me, or why Mom even let me go. She probably didn't know. OK, which one of you older siblings took me to that scary movie?

Does it even have a parking lot? What a mess it must be. Craig has changed so little in some ways. Maybe it's cool that it's kept it's old town feel, but I can't help thinking...'it is sad'. A town frozen in time.

Craig Daily Press

One year the local Craig newspaper had a contest. The paper was called "Craig Daily Press" and still prints today. My best friend Andy and I would faithfully play the contest every week. It required a little bit of leg work, but two bored kids in small town USA were up for the task.

The newspaper would include semi-hidden clues within the advertisement's inside the newspaper. The clue would be some little phrase that obviously was not part of the original ad. The reader, or contest players, had to find all the little clues and fill out the contest sheet and then take it to one of merchants located in town and drop off the entry. There was one contest per week, but you could put an entry at each participating business.

Andy and I faithfully played the game. We would find all the clues, fill out the form and then ride our bikes all over town to each of the merchants and drop an entry into each of the boxes. There was one at Cook Chevrolet, and one at Coast to Coast. I can't remember them all, but we made the rounds and we never missed a week

Finally our diligence paid off and I won the contest one week. I won $80 in merchant bucks. I didn't get $80 cash, but I got $80 worth of vouchers that could be used at participating merchants in town. My poor single mother, God bless her, would not let me just spend the money on whatever I wanted. She insisted that I buy some useful stuff with my bounty. I remember we went and bought some clothes at the town Department Store. Perhaps at Hesteads. I remember we bought some clothes at a store on Yampa Avenue in downtown Craig. Funny, I can't remember what I bought with that money except for 2 shirts. One a yellow gold striped shirt, and the other a blue striped shirt. I was wearing one of those shirts in one of my elementary school class photo's. I can't remember any toys or fun stuff I got. All I can recall is the shirts.

Eighty dollars was a lot of money in those days. And for a 10 year old boy it was a fortune. I think about it now, and I should have probably split it with Andy since we both worked on the weekly entry's as a team. Not sure why I didn't. Sorry Andy. I got my picture in the paper too. The headline read: "Poor kid makes it big!" Not really, but it was the truth.

I remember on Sundays the Denver Sunday paper was available. Not sure it was the Rocky Mountain News of the Denver Post. Of course in those days, the little town closed up on Sundays. But people could get the paper in front of the Palace Drug Store on the corner of Yampa Avenue and Victory Way. The store was closed, and they didn't have newspaper machines like now days. The papers were just sitting on the sidewalk under the awning with a weight on them. Next to the papers was a coffee can. People would grab a paper and put their money for the paper in the coffee can. People were honest in those days I guess, cause that is how we got the Sunday paper when we were in Craig. I remember getting marshmallow sundae's at the Palace Drug too. That was a real treat. The Palace was one of those old fashioned drug stores with a refreshment counter inside. I guess they weren't old fashioned then...it was normal. Anyway, it was a real treat to go get a marshmallow Sundae. Maybe that's where the rest of my $80 went?!


Here I am wearing one of the shirts I bought with my big winnings.




Look at that mop...and those ears...and those big teeth...and all those freckles...and...

Wow, people really DO read my blog!

I came home last night to find a new 'friend request' on my Facebook page. Expecting it to be someone from work or a family member that had recently discovered FB; I was pleasantly (no pun intended) surprised to find out the friend request was from a childhood friend named Andy Pleasant. I had not seen or heard of Andy since the end of 5th grade in Craig Colorado.

My family moved away from Craig and eventually Andy moved away as well, and as addresses changed we lost contact. Neither of us ever really knew what happened to the other. I had written a story about Andy on the blog last fall and had mentioned him in a couple of other spots in the blog. He was my best friend, so many of my Craig memories would no doubt involve him. I actually have a couple of more stories I intended to write, but had not got to them yet.

I found it even more surprising how it all came to be that Andy discovered my existence, and then sent me the friend request. I knew some of my family checked the blog from time to time, so I figured I had about 4 readers. Other than an occassional errant web surfer, I doubted that anyone else visited the blog, let alone anyone that might have a connection to Andy.

Shock as it was, it seems that one of Andy's employees found the blog and told him about it. After reading it, I assume he saw the Facebook Badge I have posted on the page and went to my Facebook page, signed himself up, and sent me the 'friend request'. We will have some catching up to do, it's been over 40 years since we knew each other.

Even more surprising, I went back to the original Andy blog post to reread it and see what I had actually said. I was surprised to find that someone named Joyce had seen the post and had sent me his name, location, and even a website for his business. Since her comment was posted some time after I had written the blog post, I didn't even know it was there.

So, I've had two people read the blog that knew Andy, or knew of his whereabouts. It makes me wonder who else may have dropped in to visit. If you're out there reading, and you know me or someone I have talked about, feel free to make a comment. You never know what the end result might be.

Anyway, it is exciting to make contact with an old friend. I spent a lot of time with Andy and his family when we were kids, it will be interesting to catch up.

Thanks to all you readers out there (all 6 of you?). I guess I will blog on...

Grandpa Art

Under construction

Knez Gulch

I was so young that I really don't remember much about my very first years in Craig. I was born in California, but try not to hold that against me. I don't remember anything about the baby years that transpired prior to my arrival in Craig; which I'm sure is quite normal. At some point, when I was less than 5 years old, the family moved back to Colorado. I believe it was my first time to live in Colorado. The older siblings had lived in Colorado before, but not me. My sister Lynn had been born in Craig a few years earlier.

We moved into a house that was south of Craig and it was there that I began my Colorado years. Sadly, I don't remember a lot of details about the time when we lived south of town (I was only 4, cut me some slack). The house was located south of town, across the Yampa river, then east along a county road, past the little bitty airport, and then right on another county road. The house was set off to the right shortly after the turn and was on the private lane that went back to the Morton's house. I remember one of the houses was surrounded by huge trees,though I'm not sure if it was our house or the Morton's. There was a circle type driveway that went all the way around the house, and both houses were surrounded by fields. Outside of the fields were the sage covered mountains that ran to the south and east of the property. The house we lived in is no longer there; it was torn down at some point, and except for a gate next to the road, you'd probably never know it ever existed by the look of it today.

I don't know the name of the county road. Of course, at age 4, one does not really pay attention to the road signs. It was the road that went up to the Knez place. I don't really know what it was called so I just call it the Knez Gulch Road. The Knez (Keh-nez)family was the main family that we knew that lived up there. So, it's no wonder that in my little 4 year old mind, it was the Knez Road. Even today, there are Knez home owners up that road. In my mind, I pictured that road going up into the mountains to a beautiful home surrounded by trees and mountainous terrain. However on my last visit, I drove up there to discover it was just a winding road up a dry sage brush filled gulch. Nothing mountainous or beautiful about it.

The Morton's were very nice to us. I believe they were our landlords as well as our friends. Addie was a cook at the school district and remained friends with my mother long after we moved out of the house. Addie's husbands name was Roscoe I believe, and I seem to remember him as a very skinny old man. He must have been pretty sharp though, because they later sold that property, but he held onto the mineral rights. Later his estate became very wealthy because of that decision. We, on the other hand, did not!

What do I remember about the house south of town? I remember that it had a secret room. It was an old 2 story farm house. Behind one of the built in drawers I believe was a small room. My older siblings found it by accident I think. If you pulled the bottom drawer and crawled through the opening, you were in a small room. I'd like to say it was a panic room, but I don't think they had them in those days. Nevertheless, the kids loved to play in their secret room.

I, being the youngest, was probably not allowed to play it the secret room. I'm sure it was reserved for the 'big kids'. That brings me to another one of my strongest memories of the house south of town. I remember that all the older kids would get up and go to school and I could not go. I was too young! I distinctly remember wishing that I was old enough to go to school. I wanted so much to get on that bus like all the other kids instead of staying home with no other kids to play with. Just little ole me, all by my kidself, all day long. To make it worse, I was born in October and I just missed the cutoff to be able to go to school when I was 5 years old. So, I had to wait another whole year, until I was almost 6, before I could start the big K with Mrs. Rudd at Sunset Elementary. Later,after I began attending school, I recanted all my dreams of wishing I could go to school.

Like most 5 year olds, I loved to run around outside and explore. Trickling down the Knez Gulch was a little stream bed that usually had a little water flowing through it. There seemed to be a lot of water snakes near the water and I was often catching them and playing with the water snakes. One day, my older teenage brother Jim and I went for a hike on the hill east of our house. It was a rather large hill that inclined a couple of hundred feet above the road and it was covered in sage brush. No trees, just sagebrush. As we were walking, I came upon a snake. Fun! I loved to play with water snakes. The problem was that it was not a water snake! Fortunately, Jim was close to me, and I distinctly remember him grabbing me by the shoulder and hurling me backward. I guess he didn't want me to pick up that rattlesnake. We spent a great deal of time after that trying to kill the snake. I was the rock finder. I would run around looking for a good size rock and take it to Jim who would throw it at the snakes head to try and kill it. At one point my direction of travel back to Jim was leading straight toward the snake. Jim started yelling at me to go back and come around the other way. Eventually, we must have won the battle and killed the snake. Jim hauled it home and cut the rattler off. Jim had that rattle for a long time stored in a little magic box. It was one of those wooden boxes that had hidden compartments covered by sliding sides and sliding top pieces. Once assembled, one could hardly tell it had any pieces; it just looked like a solid box. I wonder what ever happened to that box?

The old house was old and drafty. Definaltly not the Ritz. One winter when it was extremely cold and the temperature was well below zero for many days, Dad decided to put the chickens down in the cellar under the house so they would not freeze to death. The interesting part was that when you looked through the cracks in the kitchen floor....you could see and hear the chickens clucking down there. Burrrr.

That's about all I can remember about the old house south of town. I'm sure my older brother and sisters can remember a lot more about the details than I could. Here is a picture of me about that age. I think this picture was taken at that same old house south of town. I'm not sure how long we lived there or why we moved. But the next place we lived was certainly not bigger and better.


Standing next to the Knez Gulch Road. That's Rattlesnake Mountain behind me.

Breeze Elementary School

Take a journey with me, if you will. A journey back in time to Craig, Colorado; the year is 1967. It was time for me to start the 5th grade. I had begun my school years at the newer Sunset Elementary on the West side of our small little town. Sunset had newer buildings, a huge playground area; it was a well designed modern (for it's day) educational facility. Sunset Elementary was all I knew of schools. I had attended Kindergarten through the fourth grade at good ole' Sunset Elementary. We moved to a different part of town during the summer between my fourth and fifth grade years of schooling. We moved to an old house on Yampa Street in the center of Craig, and that meant I would be changing schools.

There is good news and bad news in this scenario. I would be attending Breeze Elementary School. The good news was that it was only about one block to school. No more riding the bus, just slip out the back door, cross the alley, kitty corner through a neighbors yard, cross the street and wall-ahh...I was at school. The bad new was that Breeze Elementary was located in a very old school building, and my teacher would be Mrs. Potter.

When I say it was an old building, we're talking OLD. Like maybe it was the first school ever built in Craig. It was a large square 2 story brick building. The entrances were in the middle of the building, with hallways in the middle of the building, and classrooms on the North and South sides of the hallway. In the middle of the hallway were the stairs, which seemed like a giant staircase in my memory bank. I can picture them rising North up to a platform at the half way point; that platform running back to the West, and then another flight of stairs back to the South and eventually one would reach the 2nd story of the old school. My classroom was on the South side of the 2nd story. A very large classroom where I would experience the joys of 5th grade learning. Breeze Elementary had the old radiator heating. I remember the stench of it the first time they cranked on, and the crackling noises they made as the heat filled them during the cold Colorado winter. I can't help but think of the Movie 'Sixth Sense' when I reminisce about Breeze Elementary. That large hallway and staircase reminds me of the scene where he looks to his left and sees the 3 bodies hanging from the rafters. That was the feel of Breeze Elementary. Breeze also had a fire escape for evacuation purposes. It was not the traditional staircase on the side of the building, it was the slide on the side of the building. Yes, a large metal tube, probably 3 to 4 feet in diameter and about 30-40 feet in length. Students would climb into the tube and slide to the safety of the ground below. I loved fire drills at Breeze Elementary! WEEEEEeeeeee.

Breeze Elementary had a gymnasium as well. I believe it had been a High School or Junior high at one time; and now it was being used to relieve some of the overcrowding at the other Elementary schools. The gymnasium was a typical older school gym. There really was no sideline or seating area. There was just a big basketball court in the middle with a stage on the south side of the gymnasium. That was the year I learned how to determine which was my left hand and which hand was my right hand. It had never been that important to know which hand was the right and which was the left prior to 5th grade. But in PE class, in the gym, the instructor would make us do exercises and we had to know which hand was right or left for certain calisthenics. We were always facing the stage for the exercises, and so I knew that the East side of the Gym was my left hand and the West side of the gym was my right. After that, for years, if I was trying to determine my left from my right, I would picture myself in that gym, facing that stage, and knew that 'this hand' was my left hand because I was facing the stage. Determination by Association I guess.

The lunchroom was on the West side of the school. I don't remember much about the lunch room itself, but I remember what happened inside the lunch room. They had a rule that we had to eat everything on our tray if we had eaten the hot lunch. There was no throwing food away! I, like most 5th grade boys did not like vegetables that well. Actually, not at all! But mostly, I really hated the peas. I could not force myself to eat those nasty old green pellets. So, I ingeniously devised a plan to drink my milk and stuff the peas into the milk carton, and then throw the peas away with the milk carton. It worked to! I can't remember ever getting caught disposing of my peas. So it was bye bye peas. Yaaaay... 'cause peas are yucky!

My 5th grade teacher was Mrs. Potter. Ugly, old hag of a teacher who was nothing but mean. I can still see her face, with that big old mole on it. Why couldn't I have gotten the other 5th grade teacher like my friend Andy got? It just wasn't fair! Mrs. Potter yelled at us, made us work, work, work. Classroom wise, I hated that year. But, when it was all said and done and the year was over, I could honestly look back and say "I learned more that year, than I ever had before". Mrs. Potter may have been a mean old hag, but she taught us a lot of good stuff.

When the weather was nice enough, our PE class would go outside and kitty-corner from the northeast corner of the school was a vacant lot where we have our PE class. I remember that we played flag football for a while. I remember that they had tryouts for the position of Quarterback. Each student would throw passes at receivers, and surprising enough I was chosen as one of the quarterbacks. I think I was more lucky than I was good, but nevertheless, I made the final cut. Something about those practices makes me think of my friend CoCo Cliften...though I can't remember why.

Today, Breeze Elementary School is gone. It is just a City Park with grass and a few trees. The radiators no longer creak or stench. The clatter of the lunch room trays is silent. I can no longer tell my left hand from my right hand, 'cause the stage is gone. The Breeze is now silent.

Well, there you have it. My exciting year of education at Breeze Elementary. I learned a lot, I had some new experiences, and I survived that scary old building and that scary old teacher. I learned how to tell my left from my right, and I learned the 'art of deception' regarding pea disposal anyway. The year was nearly complete. I recall that on the last day of school on a sunny springtime day, we went for a little field trip. It was the last week of school, where everyday you just do fun stuff. I can't even remember where we were going for the field trip. I remember it was very sunny. I remember a long line of kids walking down the sidewalk. I remember holding the hand of my 5th grade girlfriend Edie as we walked. It was my first awkward attempt at a PDA.

We moved away from Colorado that summer.

I never saw Edie again.

The Good Old Days

I had just worked a stressful 10 hour shift in a 911 dispatch center. I had spent the day answering emergency phone calls and dispatching police, fire, and paramedics to those in need. Now, with my work day complete, it was time to unwind while I made the drive home. On a normal commute day, it takes me about 30 minutes to make the drive from the workplace to my home. Most of the drive would just be non-eventful, boring, interstate driving.

So, there I was vegetating on the interstate; pretty much driving in auto-pilot mode. I was basically just driving down the road, not really looking at other cars or other drivers, just taking my place in a long line of other commuters making the same tedious drive home. I didn't have the radio on, I was just enjoying the quiet drive home in the solitude of my little car. After 10 hours of answering phones, I am usually suffering from acute noise fatigue; so unless I really need a traffic report, I generally keep the radio off.

I was startled out of my vegetative trance by an older style 60's pick up truck that made an unusual shift in his traffic lane ahead of me. When you're driving on the interstate, it is the unexpected that catches your attention as the other drivers are really just one more ant in a long line of worker ants headed back to their little anthills. I studied the truck for a moment, since it's erratic behavior had ejected me from my migratory trance. Seeing the truck reminded of a friend I knew years ago whose dad had driven a similar truck. It took me back to my younger days, and made me wish I still had my old pick up.

Next, there was the usual irritated driver response where I wondered, 'What the heck is that driver doing up there...he's obviously not paying attention to the road'! My eyes proceeded up and over the tailgate to peek inside the cab of the truck as it traveled down the highway. Inside the truck there appeared to be a male driving the pick up. Next to him a female. The two of them appeared to be the only persons in the vehicle. What I found most interesting, and what prompted me to write this little blog entry, was the fact that the female was sitting in the middle of the bench seat, right next to the driver. Well, that explains the distraction that no doubt caused his errant traffic deviation.

Seeing the two of them snuggled up to each other really made me stop and think about the good old days. In our modern world, almost every car purchased these days has bucket seats in the forward part of the vehicle. Even trucks and SUV's usually have bucket seats. Or maybe, I'm just old, and married, or have too many children to think about such things. Still, I remember the old days when I was dating and that special girl would slide across the seat and snuggle up next to me, and off we would go. For us guys who drove a stick shift, it was quite convenient for our right hand to rest on the thigh of our sweetheart in-between shifting gears. Then, during a 'young love' conversation, she could turn and plant an affectionate kiss on the drivers cheek...or neck. Whoa, I think I just made an errant lane change.

I remember one of my college friends came home from a date one evening complaining about a traffic citation he had received while driving with his date. Officially, he was cited for 'inattentive driving'. My friend said the officer thought he was paying too much attention to his passenger, and not enough attention to the road.

I think about those days and it makes me smile...and it makes me happy inside. It's such a good feeling to have someone snuggle up next to you, sit in the middle of the seat, grab your arm, look up at your face, and just enjoy being in your company.

Today, I don't even have a car with a bench seat. Car makers these days are striving to make the most comfortable cars possible...you know...the cars with the contour seats that mold around our big butts. Perhaps they have missed the most obvious accessory of all...the girlfriend who sits right next to you!

I heard an old joke a long time ago, where a married couple was driving down the road, reminiscing about the topic of this blog discussion. The wife saying "Remember when we were young and I would sit in the middle of the seat and snuggle up next to you?, I wonder when and why we quit riding like that?" The husband just looked over at his wife and said: "Well, I haven't moved!"

Yes, Good times! And although I don't have any vehicles that have a bench seat. And, although my wife and I never had a car with bench seats while we were dating..And, although, I don't foresee any bench seats in my future...still a little part of me wants to go rent an old pick up with a bench seat, grab the wife and go for a little ride. She can snuggle up next to me in the middle of the seat...real close. I can shift the old pick up into high gear and rest my hand on her thigh, and she can look up at me with that 'I love you forever' look in her eye and give me a soft little kiss on the cheek. And...

Clint! Clint! CLINT! Wake up you're snoring again!

Crossing Fortification Creek

The long, cold, harsh, Colorado winter had passed and the springtime was beginning to blossom in the small town of Craig. I was not much different than any other boy in the 60's, and I could not wait to get outside and enjoy the bright springtime sun. My best friend Andy lived several miles east of town. So we didn't have much time to explore together unless we planned ahead. On this particular spring day, I buddied up with a school mate named Joe and we were off to find something adventurous to do. I'm not sure if we were headed for Sherwood Forest or to the playground, but ultimately we ended up at the Craig City Park.

It was still early spring, so the grass was still brown, and the trees were still bare. Under the bridge of the main drag Victory Way, there was still several feet of ice that had built up under Fortification Creek bridge where the creek flowed under Victory Way. The creek was very high with the onset of warm weather and the snow pack rapidly melting in the mountains above Craig. There was no shortage of snow in the rugged Colorado Rocky Mountains. Throughout most of the year, Fortification Creek was merely a slow moving trickle of water about 6 feet wide and about a foot deep. In the spring however, it became a monster of muddy water about 20 feet across, and was several feet deep where it flowed through the Craig City Park. Certainly, it was no place for a couple of elementary school boys to be playing. But we played at the park all the time. For that matter, we played near the creek all the time. Today seemed no different to us than any other day, and besides, we had been bottled up in the house all winter, and this was our chance to explore.

To make matters worse, or more adventurous, if you're one of those boys, there was a shortcut across the creek. Yes, about 100 yards North of the Victory way bridge, there were two water lines that crossed the creek from East to West. We crossed the creek there all the time. It was really simple, and kind of fun, because there were 2 pipes that went across the creek, and they were right next to each other. In fact, they were attached to each other by braces that made them quite secure. One of the pipes was about
6 inches in diameter, and the other was maybe 3 inches in diameter. So, all it took was a little balance and it was quite simple to cross the creek by shuffling across the 2 pipes in our cheap 1960 sneakers.

This day, probably would not have been any different from any of the other crossings, except for these large sections of logs that were floating down the creek that day. Each section was about 4 foot in length and maybe 2 feet in diameter. They were floating by about one every 200 yards or so. We watched them float by for a while and then one of us (not sure which stupid kid it was) got this brilliant idea that we were going to stop one of these Lincoln logs. I have no idea why, but I guess we thought it would be cool.

So we rummaged around and found a large tree limb to use to stop the log so we could inspect the log?? I, being the braver of the two boys (hey, it's my story)had the stick in hand, standing on two narrow pipes, over a rushing springtime creek, patiently waiting for my first victim log to arrive.

Here it comes. It was meandering down the creek with no particular purpose. I braced myself to stop the log. I studied the laws of inertia in the 6th grade. Trouble was, I was now in the 4th grade. To make a long story short, as soon as my stick hit that log, my butt hit the water. That log knocked me off the pipe and into the raging creek in a micro-second. Oh, did I tell you I learned to swim in the 6th grade too.

So, here I am...thrashing around in a raging muddy creek, unable to swim, and an ice flow about 100 yards away that was forcing all the water under the ice and under the bridge. I came up out of the water fighting for my life. There was the log. Grab on to the log Clint, grab it! I tried grabbing the log, but all it did was spin, round and round. Panic abounding, I was thrashing, spinning the log and rapidly floating downstream toward the ice trap. I distinctly remember Joe running along the East shore of the creek yelling something at me. A video of my face would have been priceless I'm sure!

This is the part of the story where I say, God must have had a plan for my life, because I really should have died that day. I couldn't swim. The creek was about 75 yards away from pushing me under the water and ice and taking away any chances of breathing any air for another 100 yards at least. The only thing close was a spinning log that was of no use whatsoever. Somehow, I'm sure by the grace of God, I was able to grasp a bush that was near the bank and pull myself to safety.

Soaking wet. Thankful to be alive. And a lot wiser about inertia. Thank you Jesus!

It truly is a wonder that more kids don't die in childhood. I know I should have died that day. We went home and I changed into some dry clothes.

What should we do next?

It's a heartache

There are not too many songs that I can hear on the radio that take me back to a certain place and time in my life. There are a few. Okie from Muskogee for example takes me back to 6th grade in Compton California. My first record, my first record player. God I'm old.

One of the strongest songs that will take me back is Bonnie Tyler's "It's a Heartache". I go straight to Billings Montana about 1978 when I was working for Moldy Gold Dairy (Meadow Gold). The song was a hit. I liked it. And they played it on the radio all the time that year. So whenever I hear it, I see myself in a restaurant near the Metra, delivering milk.

A one hit wonder and a lonely single guy. But I could lift 18 gallons of milk! Maybe that's why I have back problems!!

Green Street

Of all the streets, in all the towns across America, I found myself remembering Green Street. We never lived on Green Street. It was mainly a residential street in the small town of Craig. We didn't have any friends or family that lived on Green Street. Yet, here I am making a post entitled 'Green Street'!

Green Street ran North from Victory Way, on the West side of Craig. It was only 2 blocks East of Steele Street where we had lived during most of my Elementary School days. The first block, closest to Victory Way (the main East/West drag), was commercial property. The next couple of blocks were home to some churches. Next came an Elementary School, and the rest of Green Street was residential. Green Street was flat and level until just passed the Elementary School, but from there it began a slow steady incline all the way to the North end of Green Street. At the end, was the landmark overlooking the city of Craig, the Sandrocks.


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Everyone called them just that, 'the Sandrocks'. They sat high above Craig overlooking the small town below. They were a great place for kids to climb around and explore. Though, now that I think about it...incredibly dangerous. But Elementary age kids don't think about danger, we thought about having fun. The Sandrocks were called sand rocks because the rock was very soft, like sand. It was incredible easy to carve your name, or anything else' into the soft rock and 'leave your mark' as it were in the cliffs above town. Unless time has taken it's toll, on the soft rock, perhaps my name is still etched in stone above the small town of Craig. I never fell off the cliffs above town; thus I'm able to write this here blog today. Still it's a wonder I'm here! I am here...right?

Somewhere just below the Sandrocks was a house that belonged to one of the teachers at my Elementary School. I remember one spring, near the end of the school year, my class took the day off from schooling; we walked up the hill in the springtime sun, and had a playday at the teachers house. That house was on Green Street near the top of the hill. It had a large back yard, and the thing I remember most about that day was playing 'Red Rover' in the back yard with my class. Have you ever played Red Rover? The class divided into two groups, each side forming a line by holding hands. Then, the one side would scream, "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Clinton right over"! Then the person they called would run toward the line of kids, looking for the weakest link (a couple of girls no doubt) and try to bust through the line. If the runner was able to break through, he could take someone back to his side to be on his team. If he didn't break through, he had to stay on the side that held the line. I had the best time. I still remember that day.

We would often ride our bikes up Green Street to the top of the hill to play on the Sandrocks. In order to make it to the top, we had to pedal our bikes with all our might to make it up the hill. One time, during a pedalling frenzy...the chain on my bike snapped. Clint had a major wipe-out in the middle of Green Street. I landed on my face on the asphalt. Major road rash on my face. Perhaps that explains my disfigured facial features. Guess what...school picture time!! The photographer did have me turn my face to the side...a semi profile shot. It mostly covered the huge scab on my face.


Also, on Green Street was my elementary school, Sunset Elementary.


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I attended Sunset from Kindergarten through the fourth grade. I had some good friends there. A few names come to mind: Andy Pleasant, Kent Cook, Tony Balleck, JD Jepkema, Chuck Steele, David Livingston, Steven Straight, Ann Stalen, Elaine McCandless, Edie Wilkins, Cindy Cook, and Nina Bishop. I remember playing kick ball at recess. That was always fun. As previously mentioned, I liked to sneak off the playground and go to the A&W (also on Green Street. Here is the A&W today, it's modernized a bit:


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Just South of the school, was a church.
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I remember that church for one thing. It was in front of that school that myself and another kid (can't remember who)confronted another kid on a bike. I honestly can't remember why we were mad at him,but the kid I was with pushed him. When he pushed him, he dropped his school books in the gutter and got them all wet. Next day...we were in big trouble at school. My teacher, Mrs Schmidt, and the other kids teacher were both going to spank us. The whole school feared the paddle of the other teacher. It was a long plank with holes drilled in it to cut down on the wind Resistance. Mrs. Schmidt was a tiny little woman, not much bigger than her students. She spanked with a little ping pong paddle. I'm here to tell you, the little ping pong paddle hurt the worst. OUCH!




Farther South was the Lutheran Church.


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My mother started attending this Church while we were in Craig after she met Ruth Pleasant. Ruth was attending the Church and so we started attending it too. At that time it was just the small building you see on the left with the zig-zag roof. Funny thing, I don't remember a lot about our attendance there. I must not have listened to the sermons. But how many 4th graders do? I did always remember one thing. When I got logical (that's a joke Spock), I asked the Pastor a question. I can remember what the Pastor looked like, but I can't remember his name. Anyway, I asked him: "If God created the world, and all that is in it...who created God?" Pretty Deep Thoughts huh? But I always remember his answer, it must have been a good one. He took off his wedding band and said, "You see this ring?" Then he took his finger and ran it around the circumference of the ring. "God is like this ring, He is eternal; he has no beginning and no end, he is everlasting." I'm sure those weren't the exact words, but that was the gist of it, complete with an object lesson. But it satisfied the inquisitive little 4th grader.

Well, there you have it, the bulk of my Green Street memories, save one. I suppose, in life, we all have done something we wish we could take back. You say: "I bet you'd like to take back that bike crash huh?" Or "How about taking back that pushing incident in front of the church, that would save you a spanking?!" No, those would not be the events I would like to take back. Here is the site of the old Safeway store in Craig. Perhaps if we could make it so the whole Safeway store never existed! That would probably have made a dramatic change to the life of all the Gardner's. Since that is not really an option, there was one other incident. I was at the Safeway store one day and was caught shoplifting. The Safeway store sat here where the Craig Library now sits:



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Stupid poor fourth grader living with a single mother trying her hardest to make ends meet. So, I must have wanted something my mother could not afford, and so I tried to steal it. I sit here now as an adult, and think about my Mother having to come down to the store and pick me up. How humiliating it must have been for my Mother to walk into that Safeway store. My Mother endured some hard times. That was no doubt a difficult day for her. If I could, I would take it back a hundred times. I'm so sorry Mom.


For some reason, Green Street holds a lot of memories for me...both good and bad. For the A&W hot dogs, to the danger of the Sandrocks. From a fun game of Red Rover, to the crash and burn bicycle wreck. From the exciting game of Kick ball, to the spanking by two teachers. From the eternal lesson from my Pastor, to the shameful theft at the Safeway Store. Highs and Lows...I guess, in the end, that is what life is all about.

Craig's City Park

Craig had one main city park. It was near the Liquor store where where Andy and I would cash in our treasure of empty bottles. The park was long and narrow and ran along the west side of Fortification Creek. Fortification Creek ran through the east side of Craig. I remember several things about the park from my childhood.

I remember there was a clubhouse of sorts that was located near the south end of the park. The clubhouse is no longer there today according to the Google street view program. It looks like a concrete slab is all that is left of the old clubhouse.

See the slab out there in the grass?



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But that's typical for Craig (run down or no longer there). The clubhouse, as I remember it, was just a large one room cabin structure about 30 feet wide and maybe 60 feet long. It had a front door and was just a large big open room. I think people could rent it for dances or meetings, etc. For some reason, I can't really remember why, every time I think of that clubhouse, I think of an old Smothers Brothers song about a woman who had a map of the world painted on her body. And the part of the song I always think of is the part that talks about 'Greece on her knees'. La la la..."and on her knees was Grease....(laugh) Greece on her knees!". Yes, I realize it sounds dumb, but perhaps if you could hear the whole song, it would be funnier. Or perhaps if you were 10 years old it would be funnier. The Smothers Brothers were classic; and they were funny to adults as well as kids. I still don't know why I think of that song whenever I think of that clubhouse. I did attend some event there one night. I remember being in there when it was full of people. I remember the open door, and some people loitering outside. Perhaps they were playing that song while I was there. Not sure.

Her eyes were Siam
Her nose was Hindustan
And on her knees was Greece
(grease on her knees)
Her back was Brazil
Her chest was Bunker Hill
Her hips they were Con-stan-ti-no-po-ple

Just then, I saw my wife
And to avoid a future strife
I let the rest of the world go by



Craig, like many towns across America had a Chamber of Commerce office that was in a Railroad Car. The Craig Chamber Train Car was located at the South end of the Park at Victory Way. It is still there today:


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A little North of the clubhouse was the City Swimming Pool. We went there a few times in the summer and would go swimming. I could not swim. so I would stay in the shallow end, or hold on to the side if I went near a deeper section.

Craig Pool:

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Behind the pool was the playground area. The modern parks have a small little section of the park that is usually enclosed by sidewalk and filled with wood chips or soft Pea-gravel. Thus protecting the little children from hurting themselves if they fall. Craig's playground area had no soft wood chips or pea-gravel. Just hard dirt area and the play area was spread out over a larger area. The park had a nice merry-go-round, teeter-totter, tall slide, swings, monkey bars, etc, I especially remember the slide. It was a tall slide, about 10 feet tall. A long slick metal slide that was great for sliding. One time, while visiting the park, it must have been busy. I say that because the line to 'ride the slide' was long. Kids were standing on the ladder waiting for their turn to slide down the ladder. Well, it became my turn to slide down the slide and I climbed into the slide position at the top of the slide and was ready to make my run. But there was someone ahead of me that had stopped midway down the slide. I don't know if they were scared or playing around or what. But the kid behind me was upset that I was not sliding down the slide and so he pushed me. He must have pushed pretty hard because I did not go down the slide...I went off the edge of the slide and down to the ground. It knocked the wind out of me. I don't remember all the other times I must have went down that slide. But I remember that time. I can still remember that feeling of having the wind knocked out of me. Gasping for air and not being able to breathe. I have no idea who had stopped ahead of me, or who pushed me, but I will never forget that awful feeling.

I also remember the park area.



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Surrounded by tall trees. No grass, just hard ground. The area was shaded, with playground equipment dotting the playground area. It's hard to explain, but I can close my eyes and remember the 'feeling of being there'. The smell, the shade, the sound of the kids playing, the agony of defeat (when you get pushed off the slide).

In the cold Craig winters, they would flood the area near the playground and make a big skating rink right in the middle of the park. I was never a skater, but it was still cool that they would do that. Lots of people (who had ice skates) would go down to the park and ice skate in the winter.

At the north end of the park, there was a road that crossed the creek, There was also a foot bridge that crossed the creek and opened up into the playground area.



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There were picnic tables and a parking area in the same area. On the North side of that street (I think it was 7th street) was a unmaintained area that ran North along the creek for some distance. We called it Sherwood Forest.




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(Funny...it seemed more wooded in my memory)

I don't know if that was the official name of the area, but that is what everyone called it. It was cool. Shaded by tall trees, covered by weeds and bushes. There were little dirt walking and riding trails that had been formed over time. Some of the trails were right next to the creek. Other trails would just wind around through the wooded area with no particular destination designed. I remember that one of the trails was so close to the bank that if a person fell off the trail, they would fall into the creek. It was like a cliff scene on a winding wagon road, only it was a walking trail. On the west side, the bank went straight up about 6 feet. Then the trail about a foot wide. Then a 4 foot drop into the creek. I remember we could not ride our bikes on that trail because the side of the bank was too close to the handlebars. We spent a lot of time in Sherwood Forest. Most of the times were fun, but one time I remember we met 3 kids that were evidently looking for trouble. I can't remember what happened, but I remember Andy got in a fist fight with one of them. I must have stood back hoping that I would not have to fight too. I was not a fighter...I was a chicken.

Well, that is the Craig Park. I have other Park stories. but will save that for a later date. Remember: Play Hard, but don't take a plunge off the slide...it hurts big time.

Small Town-Fast Food

In today's society, fast food joints line the street and play a huge roll in the size of our waistline's(pun is intended). Biggie size, super size, mega meals...it's no wonder we all weigh too much and have clogged arteries. But what if I was to ask you to think about a small town in Colorado in the early to mid 1960's. You'd probably think of an old run down restaurant filled with tables and chairs and ample cigarette smoke. And yes, Craig had a couple of those. But Craig also had some 'fast food' joints. They were not called 'fast food' joints then, mainly because they cooked everything to order, but they fit the profile. In fact, a couple of them even had names we're familiar with today.

My favorite was the A&W. It was on the corner of Victory and Green street and was built in the classic Drive-in format. A small one room building with a kitchen at the back and a service window in the front. The classic covered parking that ran the length of the parking lot. Complete with teen age car hops and the classic frosted Root Beer mugs.



Like any kid, I loved to go to the A&W. Still to this day, a frosty root beer is hard to beat. There are two things I remember most about the menu at the A&W, and neither is the root beer.

First, I remember the 'frozen cokes'. Nothing too special about that, but they were one of my favorites. Ten or twelve ounces of coke in a paper cup and frozen solid in a freezer. They handed it to you with a plastic spoon and you started 'chipping' away. They were better at the A&W than the ones I tried to make at home. I never could figure out why. I mean...its just coke...frozen...what could be so hard about that? Still, the ones at the A&W were always sweeter than the ones I tried to make at home. And why did they even sell them? In the last 40 years, I have never seen 'frozen cokes' on any restaurant or drive-in menu. I loved 'em though, and I think they were only 10 cents.

The second, was the hot dog. As a kid I was not big on hamburgers, I liked the hot dogs. At the A&W, I liked to order 2 hot dogs with ketchup and mustard. Emm, Emm good. I still order my hot dogs that way today. I like them with relish and onions and all the fix ens...but just the other day at the DQ I ordered my hot dog with ketchup and mustard only. Hmmm...reliving my childhood? I use to take my school lunch money, and sneak off the school grounds at lunch break (which was against the rules) and go down to the A&W (about 3 blocks from school) and buy 2 hot dogs with ketchup and mustard and a root beer. I did that a lot. Call me a rebel.

The A&W was not the only game in town. Downtown Craig, across from the courthouse was a little one room Drive in called the Tastee Freez. I had a favorite there too. But it was not the ice cream as you might expect. When I went to the Tastee Freez I wanted to get a 'chocolate coke'. I absolutely loved their chocolate cokes. I don't much care for them now. And to be honest, I can't imagine why I liked them so much then. But I did. Perhaps if I could go back in time and try one of the Tastee Freez Chocolate Cokes as they made them then...perhaps I would like them again. Doubt it.

There was the B&B drive in out east of town. I had no favorite thing there that I can remember. But I did not make it out there too often. It was east of town and would have required a car to go visit, or a long bike ride. It was the teen hang out I think. I think I got to go there when one of the older brothers or sisters got stuck watching little brother. "Buy him a chocolate coke, that will keep him quiet!" I'm assuming, I have few memories of the B&B.

There was the Easley's Hamburger place. Again, I was not a hamburger man (boy), but Easley's burgers had a sort of reputation. Perhaps it was the fact that they were the MacDonald's of Craig. Yes, Easley's put a special sauce on their burgers, kinda like Thousand Island dressing. I remember them being the 'burger of choice' around town. Perhaps it was because they opened a stand across from the High School and I had 3 older brothers and sisters (in High School or Junior High). The young are so easily influenced by their older brothers and sisters. Yeah, that's why I was a 'hot dog' man/boy.

Well, so much for my childhood 'fast food' memories. I think I'll go put a coke in the freezer and see if I can bring back a childhood 'favorite thing' memory. Now where were those paper cups....wait...we don't have paper cups anymore, now they are plastic....drat...they'll never taste the same now....