DementedBlogger

How did we ever survive without the cell phone? What happened to the days of blissfully wandering off without a care in the world or ties to it?

I once caused my mother a conniption fit, traveling around the country, at the ripe old age of seventeen, looking for a job, seeing the world, and generally driving her crazy with worry.

I traveled Colorado and Wyoming. I saw people lighting fires under the oil pans of their vehicles to get them to start. (Not a great idea by the way.) I don’t remember the exact temperature, but forty below zero seems to stick out for some reason… Wyoming has no sense of decency when it comes to temperature.

The ol’ car gave up the ghost in Wyoming and I was forced to leave it and many of my earthly possessions behind and hitch hike home. Riding with a very drunk couple in a blizzard will give you a whole new outlook on walking long distances let me tell you.

Now to a teenager a month is not a long time, but to the mother of said teenager it is a whole other story! I walked up to the house, happy to be home, and got to see a whole new side to my mom… right after she made sure all my fingers and toes were still there.

If only cell phones were around then, she could have spread that shredding out over the entire time I was gone, instead of having to wait for me to show up to vent it all away!

Thomas H. Forthe

A few Pictures of Bear and Char in better days. Bear is the beautiful black dog and Char is the beautiful brown one.

Bear, as near as we can figure, was around ten years old when she died.

Bear had ear tufts and fetlocks back in Colorado, but was too hot in Florida and had to be trimmed. The young man with the puppies many years ago is Robert.

She was a good friend and my wife’s faithful companion.

Mice are such wonderful little critters. Except when they have multiplied beyond your wildest dreams and become a nightmare in reality.

We lived in a small farmhouse back in Colorado nestled among corn fields and livestock pasture. Sounds ideal, doesn’t it? It does until the sun goes down.

We moved in thinking we had found utopia, but what we found was a mouse hive.

You could hear them in the walls, scurrying along and even falling inside of them. You could see them running along the floors and between your feet.

We had two cats then, and soon enlisted the help of three new kittens all of whom attempted to help. Our entertainment at night amounted to watching the older cats catching mice and the younger ones learning to catch mice, amounting to our own private circus inside the house.

We kept our feet propped up, so they would run under our legs instead of up them….

Traps were tried, but we are talking hundreds of mice here. The cats were well fed.

We finally did get the mouse problem under control, using Bar Bait and a gang of well fed cats. All the time we lived in that house we had at least a dozen feline mouse hunters both inside and out.

I had to haul our trash to the local dump and every time I loaded it the cats would come running. Mice would start bailing out of the trash and the chase was on. Every so often some sneaky little grey fur ball would hold out until in the truck to try and escape, but we had a few cats that had caught on to that trick and would sit on the truck and watch.

On one memorable occasion the mouse held out until I was underway, and made his way into the open window and across my arm, across my lap and down my leg to hide under the seat. Never a dull moment….

Thomas H. Forthe

It is funny how the mind works. I received a picture of cars from a forum thread, instantly taking me back in time to my grandparents home, bringing memories of a young child flooding in as in a torrent. The cars had nothing to do with it, having the house in the picture solely to blame. Old memories exploded into view, like I was standing there, awaiting my cousins to arrive….

Memory, a fickle beast, serving only itself and its own needs. Memory is seldom a conscious entity, voicing its opinion at the command of its bearer, wheeling to flight like a falcon loosed for the hunt.

A smell, one leaf just the right color, rain splashing gently on your face, a cool breeze or a picture can cause a Technicolor flood, taking the bearer deep into the field of dreams of ages past.

Memory, it can be a fleeting thing, allowing only glimpses of things once occurred. Memory can also be concrete, bringing smells and thoughts, touch and sound, adding a virtual feast of information to be assimilated in an instant.

I stood on the sidewalk, smelled the air, a living breathing eight year old for an instant. Brought on by an e-mail of all things….

Thomas H. Forthe

Remember when middle school used to be junior high? Seventh through ninth grades, getting their own school, passing the education gauntlet of grade school and into near adulthood. Those were the good old days, no real responsibilities but school, and avoiding the school bullies.

There are people I never saw after junior high, even friends since we were split up into four different high schools in the aftermath.

I thumbed through the annual last night, reading words written nearly 40 years ago and strolling down that particular memory lane for the first time in years.

One picture hit particularly hard, someone I knew since first grade, a friend that had passed on at 45, seeing him as a chubby teenager was really hard to bear.

There were a few that I wonder what happened to, and if their lives turned out like they planned? Are they happy and healthy? Life goes on….

Thomas H. Forthe

I really shouldn’t complain about the cold here in Florida, I can well remember surviving winter in the frozen north! Even huddled round a camp fire in the Rockies chasing the ever elusive deer and elk herds for a case of frustration….

Hunting became something I gave up, too many people trying to ruin your day, playing stereos full blast at dawn, roaring around on four wheelers and shooting high powered rifles without knowing who or what may be in the line of fire.

Freezing was a thing I also thought I gave up, leaving the high country behind only to find they lied about Florida, it really does get cold here in northern Florida.

I remember a time when the whole family tried to fit in front of a wall heater as it was the only warm spot in the whole house, being the only heat in that old house until I put a heat system in. Luckily that furnace was up and running the year it hit -26 degrees below zero one night or we’d have been people-sickles with out a stick ….

I’ve seen frost frozen to windshields so hard you could not scrape it with out running the vehicle till the heater softened it enough to scrape and I have worked without heat at -26 degrees below during the day.

I’ll quit whining now and go back to work,

Thomas H. Forthe