Today in My History

2000:  Complaint Song
2001:  O Say Can You See?
2002:  I Just Couldn't Resist
2003:  Chickens Have Come Home to Roost
2004:  The Sun Did Not Shine, Too Wet to Play
2005:  A Nice Quiet Neighborhood
2006:   Sour Grapes
2007:  Twitterpated
2008: "I Love You"
Stats 'n' Stuff
2010:  Honorary Geezer
2011:  The "Talk"
2012: Pavlov Lives
2013: A Long Day

2014: Today at Logos--and More

Bitter Hack
Updated: 8/12
"Three Days of Rain"

Books Read in 2015
 Updated: 8/20
"A Dog's Life"

Mirror Site for RSS Feed:
Airy Persiflage

Divine and Emmanuella

The Philosophy of Juice & Crackers

The story of Delicate Pooh

The story of the Pinata Group

mail to Walt

mail to Bev 



22 August 2015

Laurel posted a photo of Bri on Facebook today that brought back a flood of memories (see Photo of the Day).  Here is an excerpt from my journal entry from August 1974, on a trip to Yosemite, in the days before Funny the World.  (Paul would have been 5):

The drive up was rather uneventful. We drove without stopping until we were well into downtown Sacramento (20 miles), where we made our first stop at McDonald's for the usual stuff, which we washed down with Kool Aid. The kids went to sleep and probably slept in shifts for most of the trip. It was after 6 when we got to the park and we had no trouble finding a campsite at Porcupine Flat. It was really a very nice place. We had a log, which made a very comfortable niche for sitting, a stump which was just the right height for cooking, a slightly warped and slanting, but nonetheless useful picnic table, and a flat, relatively unrocky space for a tent. We ended up staying there for the whole four days, in spite of the bears...but more about them later.

On Tuesday we took our first side trip to Devil's Post Pile which, if you have never been there, is something really worth seeing. Large columns of basalt looking like they were carved there and a mountain of pieces which had been broken off by a passing glacier.

The road to Devil's Post Pile is under construction, so we were stopped for a long while (during which we fixed and ate lunch), but eventually we bumped our way down the rutted dirt road until we got to the place. It's rather disheartening to follow 8 miles of twisted, rocky, dirt road and get to the bottom to find a traffic jam! We had a hard time finding a parking place in the very large parking lot.

You walk 0.4 miles to the post pile and once again there we managed to draw attention to ourselves. First of all, you can take a trail to the top of the pile, which Walt and the kids did, while I stationed myself down below with the camera so I could photograph my children perched precariously atop these columns which appear in danger of falling at any moment. Then they came down again and we were the only people there. The mountain of falling posts is such an invitation for climbing that we couldn't resist letting the kids scamper about on the rocks--even David (though Walt followed him up the slopes after Tom got caught half-way up and had to be carried down). While the kids were engaged in the delights of climbing, investigating the passing frogs, etc., all of those people in the parking lot began to wander by--including a pack of Boy Scouts.

All of a sudden, when a sufficient crowd had gathered, Paul, who was right at the very top, began to scream and scream and scream. You could have heard him all the way back to Yosemite. We were sure he was at least ready to fall down the mountain, and the whole pack of Scouts, on orders shouted by their leader (a chubby, grey crew-cut gentleman in a Scout uniform) -- "Men, help that child!" -- started climbing rapidly over the rocks to save him. Walt left David to race up and save him. People were gasping and clutching each other. I had the good grace NOT to take his picture. And for several tense minutes, the world listened to the hysterical screams of this five year old trapped on top of the mountain. Walt reached him first and the cries abruptly stopped. His problem? An ant was crawling over him!! What do you say when a 50 year old Scout leader looks at you accusingly and asks, "that your kid, lady?"

Everything after that was rather anticlimactic. We made it back to the car with no other disasters occurring and except for one stop at a Safeway, we went straight back to camp. The Safeway, by the way, was another experience. How often do you stand in a check out line and hear one checker shout to another, "Hey, Charlie, how much are the worms?"

(there is more to this story, like "the night of the bear" and "the wet night," for example, but I won't print it all.  It can, however, be read in its entirety here)

Tom sent us a video of Brianna recreating Paul's fright on the rocks and both Ned and I agreed there wasn't nearly enough screaming and Walt asked if there were any Boy Scouts around  Everyone's a smartass!




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