Holiday Cheer at the Cottage Grove Post Office

 When I first moved to Cottage Grove in 1988 to work for the Forest Service, I rented a P.O. Box.  The Post Office was located up town at the corner of 5th Street and Washington Avenue, if I remember correctly.  The only available parking was on the streets.  It was a week or so before Christmas.   After work every day I would drive up town to pick up my mail before driving north of town where I rented a small house on Lynx Hollow Road.   This day there was a package slip in my box, so I got in line at the front deck to receive the package.   There may have been 3 or 4 people ahead of me.   I noticed only two people working, one at the front counter and a man in the back sorting mail.  There were packages of all sizes scattered down the aisles and piled on selves, it did not look very organized.   One of the men ahead of me in the line handed his package slip to the clerk.   The clerk spent a good part of 5 minutes walking through the aisles looking for the package with no success in finding it.  By this time there were a line of people going out the door onto the sidewalk.   The clerk returned to the counter and asked the man if he would come back later.  The man waiting for his package was stunned, including those of us standing nearby.    By the time I got to the counter the clerk did find my package.  He seemed  to be spaced out, maybe overworked or had been smoking something besides tobacco, who knows?   The other man in the back continued sorting mail in slow motion as if he was the only person there.   Wonder where the Postmaster was?   As I made my way out the door people were starting to lose the holiday spirit and the streets were filled with cars trying to find a place to park.  

Today there is a new Post Office in Cottage Grove, and it even has a parking lot.

Happy Holidays!

Mike

PS-- there will be more short holiday stories as they come to mind, some of these have been told before.  

The Daily Grind

 Usually up between 4 and 5 am after a night of wild dreams about still trying to get through high school or wondering where I left my old dog Jack.  Probably need to cut back on those sleeping pills.   Next challenge is getting a fire going, pot of coffee and running the cats out of the house after feeding them.   By 7 am record the rainfall from the last 24 hours.   For this November we received 6.26 inches, almost making the 30 year average of 6.83 inches.   Going into December the next 7 day forecast is for more freezing morning fog and temperatures not much over 40 degrees.   Sure does not help with the mental outlook during these times of isolation.   By 9 am I help Celia get ready for the day and quickly thereafter it is lunch time.   It is either left overs or a pot of soup put together in the morning.    The daily exercise program consists of walking down to the wood shed to keep the fire going or patching potholes on our gravel road when I drive down to the mailbox at the highway.    Once or twice a week drive to town for groceries, prescription refills and replenish the beer supply.    The daily chores of washing clothes, and some sort of house work is never ending.    By 3 pm it is break time as I sit in my old easy chair that Celia wanted me to get rid of years ago.   Time to read a book, think about how my ancestors survived winter on their farm in the Ottawa Valley of Ontario in the 1800's and usually fall asleep for an hour waking to notice it has turned dark outside.   Time to feed cats, make dinner, watch news and learn all the great things mankind has accomplished for the day.   Hopefully to bed by 9 pm wondering what kind of dreams are in store for the night.   

Better throw another log on the fire

A Family Story

 In this story I have mixed some family history with some genealogy.   I must have been 8 or 9 years of age when we made this trip.    

Happy Thanksgiving!

CANADA

 

It took four days to drive from our home in Willows, California to Lacombe, Alberta where my dad was born in 1922.  It was in the 1950’s when we made the trip to a family reunion.   It was all two lane highways back then, no freeways.  The first day we drove to Bend, Oregon, then to Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho and by the third day to Fort MacCleod, Alberta before arriving at our destination at Gull Lake.    Here we stayed in a cabin that did have electricity, but no indoor plumbing, so an outhouse was available and a hand pump outside for water.   My grandparents were there to meet us since they had taken a plane from their home in southern California to Edmonton where they rented a car.   Over the next week there were different relatives coming and going.  Some were descendants of our second great grandfather, Patrick Burke and Bridget (Gallagher), who had migrated from Ireland sometime in the 1840’s to the Ottawa Valley in Ontario where he took up farming.    According to a census in 1851 Patrick’s father, Michael Burke was living with them.  He was born 1777 in Ireland and died 1852 at the age of 75. 

Patrick and Bridget had 10 children, including our great grandfather Edward born 1849, who later married Mary Kenney born 1860 to John Kenny and Ellen Gallagher (not sure the relationship between Ellen and Bridget, maybe cousins?).   Edward and Mary had 9 children and possibly two more that died in infancy.  They migrated to Iowa, then to Nebraska where our grandfather, John Raphael or as we remember him as J. Ray was born in 1894.  Sometime between 1900 and 1910 Edward and family migrated to Alberta to work on the railroads being developed from western Alberta into British Columbia.   Our great uncle Dan was born 1896 in Nebraska.   He told the story about working as a clerk for the railroads as they constructed the railroad down the Frasier River canyon in British Columba.   The crew lived in train cars and one car was used as the kitchen.   He said venison was the primary source of meat as deer were shot from the train.    Ahead of the train was a steam shovel digging out the grade to lay the tracks.   He would describe landslides that would push the shovel into the river and the train would back up to allow another shovel to be moved to the front and continue digging.  

Our grandmother, Agnes (Caldwell) and her family also migrated from Alabama to work on the railroads and sometime around 1915 she met our grandfather and married.   Their first born son, Vernon was born in Alberta, but later died of pneumonia at the age of 11 in southern California.   My grandmother still had two living siblings at the time of the reunion, a sister named Mary and a brother named Gavin.    Mary and her husband had a farm near Red Deer where we stayed one night.  Here again no indoor plumbing.   The outhouse was near the back door of the house as I remember.   Great uncle Gavin was in the hospital in the small community of Rimbey after having a heart attack.   He was not allowed visitors inside, so my dad, grandfather and great uncle Dan talked to him through the window next to the bed he was in.     I remember they all were smoking cigarettes, including the patent as they talked.   Gavin and his wife Anna lived on the family farm near Rimbey.    Anna had all of us over for dinner, with roast beef, potatoes, carrots, green beans and much more, all from her garden.   Gavin Caldwell died a few years later.

In 1968 my grandmother and I went back to Alberta by plane and visited Anna at her small home in Rimbey, since she had sold the farm.  The only others relatives living in Alberta were members of the Foy family in Edmonton, offspring of James Foy and Jane (Burke), an older sister to our grandfather.   There are other descendants of the Patrick Burke family living in Saskatchewan.   The rest of us are scattered in the states. 

Forest Roads and Trails

 This is a brief history on the development of forest roads and trails on the National Forests for your reference as we burrow in for the winter. 

Some of the first roads and trails on the National Forests were constructed by homesteaders, trespassers doing illegal logging, mining and ranchers grazing their livestock.    In the 1930’s some of these roads and trails were improved upon and new ones constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC).   Most of these served for access between fire lookouts and remote camps used by early fire and trail crews on horseback.    In 1964 Congress enacted the Forest Roads and Trails Act (FR&T Funds) which appropriated money for the development of roads and trails for recreation, fire protection and to access forest resources.    

With the increase in timber harvest after WWII roads were being constructed by timber purchasers to access timber sale areas.   They were originally located by the purchaser or logger and approved by the Forest Service with some changes to location to avoid damage to other forest resources prior to construction.   Most of these roads were not rocked and only used during the dry season.   As the timber on the easy ground was being harvested sometime in the 1960’s the Forest Service took over location and design of specified roads for timber sales that were on steeper slopes and harder to access.    These roads were located and designed by Forest Service engineers with cost estimates and were paid by the timber sale.    The purchaser of the timber sale was given credit for constructing and reconstruction of roads.  This credit was applied as payment for timber removed.    Specifications required disposal of slash by removal, burying or piling for burning from the top of the cut slope to bottom of the fill slope, known as the road prism.   All the trees within this prism are considered right of way timber included in the timber sale as a separate subdivision and usually was the first timber to be removed from the sale.  Culverts were required and installed with proper compaction.  A base course of rock was applied with four to six inches of crushed rock for the surface.    It was expensive, making some sales deficit and subsidized by the tax payers, especially in Alaska where much rock was required.    Road maintenance was performed by purchasers and/or by deposits made by the purchaser based on the amount of timber hauled per mile over a road system.  This collected money was used by the Forest Service to perform maintenance either by using contractors or by Forest Service road crews. 

According to the Forest Service Road Management website as of March 1, 2000 there were 380,000 miles of roads on the National Forests and used by 15,000 log trucks per day, down by 27,000 from 1990 when there were 42,000 log trucks per day.   

Today there is a small fraction of log hauling compared to the past, and therefore much less money is collected for road maintenance and most of that is for the maintenance of primary forest roads.   Some of the secondary roads have fallen to disrepair, closed to the public for resources protection or slowly being overgrown by encroaching vegetation.   Most trail maintenance work now is done by volunteers.  

Cabin Fever

 As of this morning, my Gmail account has 4,403 messages in the inbox.  The first message this morning is an ad to regrow thicker, longer, stronger, healthier hair.   No doubt I could probably use some of that.   Most of the emails deal with health issues, the latest news, writing classes, ads from publishers, and much political stuff, all wanting money in the end.   After checking all the items for deletion during my morning inventory much of it and more is replaced by the next day.   During these uncertain times, I really appreciate the stories many of you have shared.  As winter sets in along with the increasing spread of the virus cabin fever will be our next great challenge.    Nature is the best place to retreat from all the worldly madness and to share a few stories sure helps.

Keep writing!

Political Chaos leading to a shortage of TP

 Celia's daughter in Portland informed us there is a run on toilet paper in Portland, because of political unrest.  Could lead to a national crisis.  Anybody here see a shortage or panic buying?

Better stock up!

Lewis & Clark

 The Lewis and Clark expedition is the best adventure story I have ever read.   I think I have read every book on the subject.  Two books that stand out the most are Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose and the Journals of Patrick Gass, the oldest member of the party.  He became one of three sergeants in the party and lived into his 90's making him the longest living member of the expedition.   Another man that survived it all was John Colter, who left the expedition on the return trip and went back west with two trappers they met on the Missouri River.   His story is sketchy, but he did survive after spending two years, mostly by himself and became a farmer in Missouri after his return.   In summary if it had not been for the kindness of the different Indian tribes they would have never completed the expedition.  

After reading all these books it opened up more reading on the fur traders and mountain men that followed, some had been members of the Lewis and Clark party.   Only one other man covered more of the western frontier than Lewis and Clark and that was Jedediah Smith.   More interesting reading during these uncertain times.

SHUTDOWN

Most contract loggers did a good job complying with the Forest Service Timber sale contract.   Now and then there was always the temptation to cut some corners and save time as time was money.    During the peak logging season Forest Service contract administrators could be stretched thin depending on their work load.   Some loggers knew this based on how many visits the administrator made to their operation during a week.   Some timber sales required more of our time than others depending on how complex the sale was.   For example, a thinning sale could take much of the administrator’s time with approving tractor skid trails or skyline corridor layout, landing locations and marking additional trees to be cut for these authorized clearings.   Sometimes an entire day could be spent on a thinning sale.    On the other hand a large clear cut unit might only be visited once a week just to check on progress or meet with the logging supervisor or contract logger to agree on a new landing location or spur road for the next unit to be logged.  

One such case happened on the Orleans Ranger District in the summer of 1975 when I approved a landing location and a 200 foot spur road to access a clear-cut unit on a sale purchased by Sierra Pacific Industries out of Arcata, California.   The contract logger was V & K Logging from Happy Camp.    The next day I returned to this sale unexpected to see what progress had been made.  To my amazement the spur road and landing had been constructed as agreed to and yarding was in progress.     Being in fire season I got suspicious that all the required fire equipment may not have been in its proper place.   In addition to having a 500 gallon fire truck, this contract had a requirement for 300 gallon water tank with pump and hose line to be attached to the skyline carriage in the event of a fire in the unit.   To move this tank from one unit to the next they usually drained it to make it easy to transport.   I wondered if it had been filled with water during this move, so I made my way across the busy landing to where the tank had been placed out of the way of the operation.   As I made my way toward the tank all eyes of the landing crew watched me, including the loader operator and yarder engineer.   Sure enough the tank was empty.   I made eye contact with the yarder engineer and ran my index finger across my throat informing him to shut it down.    He blew a long whistle to inform the rigging crew that operations were shutdown.   After shutting down the yarder and loader they told me they were going to fill it at the end of the day after getting the daily quota of log trucks loaded.   They knew from experience that once they were shut down only the Forest Supervisor could permit operations to resume, so they all got in their vehicles and returned to Happy Camp.  By the time I got back to the office the entire world knew of the shutdown, including the District Ranger, Sierra Pacific Industries (SPI) and the Forest Supervisor.    After a meeting of upper management of both parties with insurances by SPI that there would be full compliance with the all fire precautionary provisions of the contract operations were allowed to resume.

India

 This story is from our trip to India in the summer 1993 with my two children and Adil, my sister's brother-in-law.   Adil's family was from India and would travel back and forth since they had a home in Cincinnati, Ohio and in Bombay, India.   We spent a week in India and a week traveling in England and Wales.   

Be thankful for what you have

INDIA : A DIFFERENT WORLD

 

It was dark when we landed in Bombay (now called Mumbai) India.  After getting off the airplane we assembled outside the terminal with our Indian family members that were there to meet us and a friend of the family that would drive us into the city.   It had been a five hour flight from London on Malaysian Airlines.  The best part of the flight was the service.  Plenty of food and when you asked for a glass of wine they let you have the bottle.  The only problem afterwards was waiting in line to use the restroom.    Once outside the terminal a young woman locked her eyes on me.   I thought she was a family member as she reached out her hand toward me, but I was told to ignore her.   She was a beggar.   As we drove out of the airport we entered a shanty town as far as the eye could see in the dark.  The highway had people standing between cars reaching their hands out as the traffic was moving slowly.  Somebody in the car said, “Do not open your windows.”   Eventually we entered the city that looked more upbeat and checked into our hotel.   After waking up the next morning I looked out the window of our room on the 4th floor and saw a hospital across the street with a street sign indicating a no honking zone.    Nobody seem to comply.   There was constant honking as cars and motor scooters made their way through the congested traffic.    It made the LA freeways look like a walk in the park.

Over the next few days Adil, my sister’s brother-in-law led us around the city.  The streets were crowded, horns were honking and the greatest challenge was crossing the streets.   Stop lights were at the ground level and hard to see, no overhead lights here.  Cars had no side mirrors since they were so close to each other.  I never saw any traffic police.   We did witness an accident where a man fell off his motor scooter and was almost run over if it had not been for some people that pulled him to safety.  There were soldiers with rifles posted in three sided shelters along some of the main streets to squelch any uprisings by the lower class.    Being taller than most the people on the streets and a white male, which made me stand out in the crowd and a beacon for the young Indian boys to pursue me for money.   Adil told me not to give them anything or they would go tell their friends and they would be after me for more money.  

Whenever we ate in a restaurant the service was outstanding, the menus included Indian dishes, Chinese food and Indian Pale Ale, the beverage of choice since the water was not good to drink.   If there was a need to treat dysentery there were walk up pharmacies along the streets where one could get pills for treatment, no prescriptions required.    Emergency rooms at hospitals had a policy of treating anybody that showed up, the only problem was you might die waiting in line.    It was common to see some dead bodies in the streets.    The bodies of the dead were placed in overhead platforms throughout the city to decompose and let the birds feast on the remains.   There is a distinct class system in India, those that have and those that have not.   Most the poor lived on the streets or in the shanty towns.    During the nights the street people would collect all the garbage, sort it out into different piles for collection early the next morning and paid according to the weight of the material, such as paper, metal, glass, plastics, etc.   Rats were common, running along the street gutters eating whatever they could find.  Once a week the upper class people would have a street side potluck for all the street people providing them with their best meal of the week.   I believe it was a way to keep them from rioting and something to look forward to once a week.    One evening we went to visit some doctor friends of the family living in a modern high-rise apartment building.    A young boy operated the elevator and was given a small room on the top floor for a place to sleep.   We looked at his small room where there was only a mattress on the floor with a cover, nothing else.   

We took one train trip through the city.   At the main terminal people filled the loading zones and once the train arrived the crowd would rush into the open doors of the passenger cars.   Adil told us to hang on to whatever we could hold or we could be pushed right out the opposite door.   It was standing room only.  On some of our excursions the family hired a driver with a car.    The driver would stay with the car at all times.   He had a family with many children, but would sleep in the car when necessary to accommodate us.   He was invited into a restaurant to eat with us once I remember.   At the end of his service we tipped him generously for being so loyal.    He was very pleased and grateful. 

On our departure from the airport I had to use the restroom while waiting for the plane.   Two men followed me into the restroom and asked if I had any Indian money.    I pulled a couple of paper bills from my pocket and gave it to them as they told me it was illegal to take Indian currency out of the country.    They were not in any uniforms and I suspect they made a habit out of asking foreigners for Indian money before leaving the country.    There was a sense of relief when we boarded the plane and in many ways I felt like a survivor.    For my two children, who were teenagers at the time it opened their eyes to the world.    Years later my son ended up taking a year off work and traveled around the world with his wife on their honeymoon.   My daughter went to Brazil for a year as an exchange student, spent part of a year living in Guatemala and traveled Europe.    For me it made me appreciate what we have in this country and how fortunate we are.

Seagulls

 In the Fall of 1965 I was disking a plowed field a mile west of the Sacramento River, near the small community of Ordbend in northern California.   It was one of those pleasant days, the soil was moist and breaking up into a nice seed bed for planting barley after being plowed a few weeks earlier.   It was a day I should have been in class at Chico State College, but preferred being outside sitting on the seat of a D7 Caterpillar tractor pulling a John Deere 16 foot wide disc and making $1.75/hour.  

On the back gang of discs there were a dozen or more Seagulls sitting on the frame with their backs toward me.   They would jump off the frame as worms and other bugs appeared in the newly turned up soil then jump back up on the frame.   At times I would stop the tractor to see their reaction.   They would turn their heads and look directly at me as if they were asking, " why are you stopping?"  

About four months later life abruptly changed after being drafted into the Army after losing my school deferment.

This happened 55 years ago, seems like yesterday.

Normal?

 Is there such a thing as normal or is it just a state of mind?    No doubt our social life these days is Zero, except for an occasional chat with a neighbor along the gravel road we share, or meeting someone we know in the local Bi Mart while shopping.    If it was not for the Internet we might be classified as hermits.   With this pandemic traveling beyond the local community seems out of the question, even Roseburg is becoming like a foreign country.    Just doing the monthly trip to Costco, north of Roseburg is a great adventure these days.    It is entertaining seeing all the different types of masks people are wearing in the stores, some look legitimate others look marginal like handkerchiefs or rags.    Even with the prospect of a vaccine in the near future the question arises about how effective it will be, especially for us older folks?  The annual flu shot is only 30 to 40% effective as my doctor informed me.  Probably wearing that mask for the long-term may be the way to avoid it all with or without a vaccine.    As I learned years ago there is no perfect or normal in this world.   Sometime the only escape from it all is going to the hammock, listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying a good beer.  

The End of 2020 Fire Season

 Douglas Forest Protection Association (DFPA) announced the end of fire season yesterday.   It was a fire season we will never forget and feel lucky to have survived it even if the nearest major fire was 15 miles from us.   Already planning on how to reduce the fire risk on our property by cutting small dead trees, burning slash, and/or by chipping and scattering it.   Enough work to keep me busy all winter or as the old body permits.   Winter forecast is for wet weather, maybe some snow.  Hope there is not a repeat of what happened in 2018-- eight days of no power, heavy wet snow bringing many trees down and the threat of our roof collapsing.    Maybe that scenario is better than the threat of a wildfire.   One thing for sure we don't look forward to summer much anymore.  

Porcelain Signs

 How many have ever seen the old porcelain trail signs with the white background and green lettering?   My first sighting of one was in the Marble Mountain Wilderness in the 1970's.   Don't remember what it said, but remember it being on a tree along an abandoned trail.   Do remember one or two on the Hardesty Mountain trail system along the north boundary of the Cottage Grove District of the Umpqua National Forest.   Seems they had been there so long the trees were growing over them.

These signs date back to the 1930's and not sure when they were replaced with wooden signs.    Over the years many of the wooden signs have been damaged by animals, used as target practice or removed by people thinking they would look better as a mantel piece.   Most National Forests used to have a sign shop at their main shop and warehouse facilities located in the community where the Forest Supervisor's office was.   Not sure if that is still the case.   With all the wildfires most the wooden signs probably are gone, but the old metal porcelain signs could be buried in the ash for future generations to discover and wonder what prehistoric civilization used these and what happened to those places named on the signs?  

Twenty Years ago...

Today Celia and I celebrate 20 years of marriage. It all started November 1, 1997 when my dog Jack and I were hiking Buford Park outside of Eugene. I noticed a trail party work crew sign pointing to a side trail that I usually never took. Out of curiosity I turned onto that trail not knowing it would change my life. There I met Celia where she and some others were cutting invasive species, such as blackberries and scotch broom. They were members of the Friends of Buford Park & Mt. Pisgah. I made the fatal mistake of handing her my business card and telling her I was available, to work with the group that is. A couple of weeks later she called me about a work party that next weekend. I ended up joining the group where we worked as volunteers until moving to Douglas County in 2006. Celia was working for the University of Oregon Olum Child Development Center and at times I would work for University Housing doing landscape work as a contractor. Our favorite place to meet up and have lunch was the 19th Street Grill. On one of these lunch dates, I told her she was like an old shoe, meaning she was comfortable to be with. She accepted it as a compliment. Thinking back some women might have just got up and left. We were married October 7, 2000.