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			<title>#1 ablast from the past(feb 2007)</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=157</link>
			<pubDate>Fri, 14 Nov 2008 03:02:57 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[A one page note in a bottle set adrift infeb 2007( forgot it was out there 'til somebody left a comment and it emailed home.): 
    * The Warningshot...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>A one page note in a bottle set adrift infeb 2007( forgot it was out there 'til somebody left a comment and it emailed home.):<br />
    <b> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Warningshot</a> </b><br />
<br />
 <br />
  Rants on things that shouildn't even be allowed to happen the first place<br />
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
<br />
 <br />
      <!-- google_ad_section_start --> <b>Friday, February 23, 2007</b><br />
<br />
   <b> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html" target="_blank">We the people...and the anti gun movement</a> </b><br />
<br />
   <div align="center">DISCLAIMER<br />
<br />
Warning this is a rant.<br />
</div>In light of the recent gun "E-world" shakeup graciously provided by( "at" the grave personal cost to. citizen "Zumbo".. I have been thinking about responsibilities of citizenship in our republic (to quote my mom" This is not a democracy").<br />
<br />
<div align="center">I am not a lawyer.<br />
</div>Nor do I believe I need to be one to interpret our constitution...I am hoping this blog scould function as a sounding board and possible rally point for law abiding citizens who are willing to be counted among those who say" This isn't right...it isn't what the forefathers intended..."<br />
RANT ON:<br />
Act one :Thesheer insanity of the New Orleans police removing firearms from the hands of law abiding citizens protecting their homes from within their own property lines, Goes against every thing anyone who takes adult responsibility for themselves and their families and the constitution stands for!<br />
<br />
That these "police and guard units outfitted in the ever stylish Woodland <i>Battle dress</i> uniform ( bdu) or "police swat basic black tactical vests,and "assault rifles" Would be employed "tactically" to enforce a blatantly unconstitutional order from the mayor against an already distressed <i>CIVILIAN POPULACE</i> IS AS FRIGHTENNG AS IT IS Nonsensical. To what purpose did it serve ? Surely these Rich mansion owners were not about to go loot alongside nopd officers??? It was a clearly a means to impose a mandatory "helplessness" upon these citizens.The government reminding the populace "Why you need ( ol' incompetent) us."Though thhe courts have held the police have no obligation to protect any individual...only " the public order at large..."<br />
all together now:"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, I CAN TAKE CARE OF ME AND MINE...."<br />
<br />
Act two) The introduction of H.R.1022 The"rebirth of the clinton Assault weapons ban"with an unhealthy serving of extras, i.e. the criminalization of private partysale and transfer of "semiautomatic weapons. The timids in the antigun movement will barely admit to the creeping incrementalism in gun legislation towards acomplete ban on private ownership, the less timid havemade outright calls for termination of personal ownrship of firearms..Not the least of which is the United Nations ( worldwide small arms treatybanning personal ownership).Lets get all the tired cliches out front now...Thesecondamendment is the one that protects all the other amendments.The founding fathers having recently fought amuddy,bloody war to reject tryanny from what would become this country, knew ambitious power hungry, greedy men would/could someday reappear to usurp the power of the people for their own nefarious benefits.A safety valve allowing for the removal of tyrants would be necessary. Hence the right to keep and bear arms. It Has nothing to do with hunting! (as mr zumbo has recently been renminded ) andeverything to do with drawing a line in the sand.When and if legal checks and balances ever fail to protect the citizenry.<br />
We the people know what the meaning of  "Is" is!!!!!<br />
We are sick and tired of dead blondes, tv judges, an 16 yearold goddess wannabes who conveniently "forget"; to wear undergarments....<br />
<br />
C'mon say it with me Sick of it..!!!<br />
<br />
we aresick and tired of tv newsmedia telling us" we know you are sick of the circus, and won't talk about it, this next hour;. but did you hear the elephant pooped inthe trailer( nexthour)???"<br />
<br />
Sick and tired...<br />
Weare nauseated to hear everything will be tagged and identified: everylast person,every last farm animal( see nonais.org) recognizable to some government scanner and tallied in a government spreadsheet for inventory "For our own safety ofcourse"!!<br />
Sick and tired<br />
<br />
We are nauseated to hear of fully completed roads being sold to foreign corporations to be turned into Toll ways to loot the pockets of the citizens whobuilt and own them and HAVE to drive on those same roads to work, feed the family and pay TAXES to a system bent on killing the very goose who lays the golden eggs.<br />
Sinck of immigrants would come here and try to change everything so its just like at home ( same language, culture)<br />
<br />
Say it with me "If its so good where you came from go back!"<br />
<br />
We don't need driverlicense test in 17 different languages.<br />
<br />
If you want to immigrate and assimilate into the "melting pot";well than you are more than welcome to help build and share in the dream that is America.If you want to eliminate the very constitution which tolerates all relifgions and install a caliphate..fuggheadaboutitt!!!<br />
SICK ANDTIRED<br />
<br />
Please leave your comments...by clicking the "0 comments" link  <br />
    Posted by Citizen # 8111   at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html" rel="bookmark" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" title="2007-02-23T07:45:00-08:00">7:45 AM</abbr>            <a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=4363035097640124228&amp;postID=3743366174000566723" target="_blank"> <img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/icon18_email.gif" border="0" alt="" /> </a>   <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4363035097640124228&amp;postID=3743366174000566723" target="_blank"> <img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/icon18_edit_allbkg.gif" border="0" alt="" /> </a>   <br />
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   <b> 2 comments:          </b><br />
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 <dl id="comments-block"><dt class="comment-author anon-comment-icon" id="c5196177264865961960">  Anonymous said... </dt><dd class="comment-body"> test 12monkey test...andyou know who you are...<br />
 </dd><dd class="comment-footer">  <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html?showComment=1172298480000#c5196177264865961960" target="_blank"> February 23, 2007 10:28 PM </a>  <a href="http://www.blogger.com/delete-comment.g?blogID=4363035097640124228&amp;postID=5196177264865961960" target="_blank"> <img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/icon_delete13.gif" border="0" alt="" /> </a>   </dd><dt class="comment-author anon-comment-icon" id="c6507166138478648817">  <a href="http://davenportinsurance.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Monita</a> said... </dt><dd class="comment-body"> Well said.<br />
 </dd><dd class="comment-footer">  <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html?showComment=1226457420000#c6507166138478648817" target="_blank"> November 11, 2008 6:37 PM </a>  <a href="http://www.blogger.com/delete-comment.g?blogID=4363035097640124228&amp;postID=6507166138478648817" target="_blank"> <img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/icon_delete13.gif" border="0" alt="" /> </a>   </dd></dl>  <a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4363035097640124228&amp;postID=3743366174000566723" target="_blank">Post a Comment</a> <br />
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    <ul><li> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html?widgetType=BlogArchive&amp;widgetId=BlogArchive1&amp;action=toggle&amp;dir=close&amp;toggle=YEARLY-1167638400000&amp;toggleopen=MONTHLY-1170316800000" target="_blank"> &#9660;  </a> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2007-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&amp;updated-max=2008-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&amp;max-results=1" target="_blank">2007</a> (1)<ul><li> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html?widgetType=BlogArchive&amp;widgetId=BlogArchive1&amp;action=toggle&amp;dir=close&amp;toggle=MONTHLY-1170316800000&amp;toggleopen=MONTHLY-1170316800000" target="_blank"> &#9660;  </a> <a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html" target="_blank">February</a> (1)<ul><li><a href="http://thewarningshot.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-peopleand-anti-gun-movement.html" target="_blank">We the people...and the anti gun movement</a></li>
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			<dc:creator>Tango3</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=157</guid>
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			<title>When Inflation Came to Beech Bluff</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=156</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 2008 14:34:29 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>Pepsi bottles used to have a penny deposit so if you picked up five off the side of the highway, when the ice-cream truck came by late in the...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>Pepsi bottles used to have a penny deposit so if you picked up five off the side of the highway, when the ice-cream truck came by late in the afternoon playing the circus music, you could buy a wonderful treat with two wooden sticks called a "fugickle". Mr. Henry's store, where you got the deposit pennies for your bottles had fugickles too, but they just didn't taste the same as the ones from the ice-cream truck; I never did find out why. <br />
 Some days, you had your nickle and just couldn't wait on the ice-cream truck so Mr. Henry's fugickles had to suffice, or maybe a pepsi instead; they were all a nickle until one day, the ice cream truck driver said that the fugickles would be a quarter each! No warning, just five kids with nickles wanting fugickles and the ice-cream man turning into a monster. We rushed to Mr. Henry's store to tell him and he looked down for a minute then drew a deep breath and said his fugickles would still be a nickle until he could afford to pay us more for our pepsi bottles but that everything was going up and we needed to start bringing in at least ten bottles to get a fugickle, if we could find that many.<br />
 The ice cream truck still came around each day and some of the kids in the newer houses would still chase him down and get ice-cream but they didn't usually get fugickles,; they always got the ice cream cones with nuts that costed a lot more so they weren't overly concerned about the increase in fugickle prices. The rest of us would pretend to be busy hunting bottles alongside the road, we didn't need his over-priced fugickles anyway, not as long as they could still be had at Mr. Henry's store.<br />
One afternoon, we found a bonanza of bottles, cokes, pepsi, orange crush, Diet-rite...nearly a hundred of them thrown in a ditch alongside a little picnic stand...a real treasure trove that required an emergency trip back to the house to get Mike's new red wagon to haul them in. We were reveling in the thought of how many fugickles we could eat in just one afternoon: might even share them with some of the rich kids. We loaded the wagon with bottles, which now brought .03 each, a fortune! More fugickles than we could count! Off to Mr. Henry's store and the door was locked. Mrs. Henry has a son that sold cars and he saw us standing on the porch with our faces pressed to the window wondering where Mr. Henry was. He got out of his car and said that Mr. Henry had gone to the hospital in Jackson and that they might have to sell the store. <br />
 Weeks went by with no deposit coins or fugicles while we waited. At first, we continued to stockpile our growing collection of bottles but with no where to sell them, they started to develop more value as BB-gun targets. Until finally, one day the store re-opened and we rushed down to see Mr. Henry but there was a new sign on the window and a new person behind the counter. We marched over to the ice-cream box and got our fugickles and pulled Mike's wagon onto the porch and the new proprietor said that that would be .35 each and he didn't want to fool with bottle deposits.....<br />
 When we explained that fugickles were 5-10 bottles each, he laughed and mumbled some about "no wonder Henry went broke.."and told us to call our Momma to bring money for the fugickles. That was the last time that I ever ate a fugickle until today, nearly half a century later. I heard circus music in the distance and stopped what I was doing to listen and remember, years rolled away and I found myself almost in tears at the sweetness of the memory and knew that I had to have a fugickle. When the ice-cream truck made its way down the road, I waved it to a stop and ordered a fugickle, he handed me one but it only had one stick! I tried to explain that they have two sticks but he assured me that this was the way they all came now so I reached into my pocket for change to pay him....$3.50....but damn, that was a good fugickle!</div>

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			<dc:creator>Seacowboys</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=156</guid>
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			<title>Tales from before time, Part 2</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=155</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 24 Sep 2008 14:50:38 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment"...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment" smilieid="2" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype><font face="Arial">I got motivated to continue these things, so here is Part 2.  Might even be a part 3 sometime, I have not finished mining memory.</font><br />
<font face="Arial">++++++++++<br />
</font><br />
<font face="Arial"><br />
</font><br />
<font face="Arial">Pop had a bit of interest in old civil works; I have his files on canals, as limited as they are.  I think he really wanted to go to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Panama</st1:country-region></st1:place> in the Navy before they sent him to ship repair and drydocking schools.  According to him, I almost had dual citizenship, Panamanian and US.</font><font face="Arial">He told me that he had orders to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Panama</st1:place></st1:country-region> that were changed.  I can easily imagine Mom persuaded him to ask for the change, seeing she had a big belly full of me at that time.  Then again, it might have been his father’s political position that worked for him.  (G-pa was a wheel in the Berks County Democratic party.)</font><font face="Arial"><o:p></o:p></font><br />
<br />
  <font face="Arial">It has been speculated that he might have been thinking <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Panama</st1:country-region></st1:place> would be a good assignment for after the war as well.  As near as I can tell, that was not seriously considered.  He might have stayed active and gone regular Navy (his commission was in the Reserves) had he not been passed over for CDR at least once, and maybe all three times after VJ day.  There wasn’t much available for LDOs at that point; he could not have risen to command of a warship because of that.   He could have been, indeed would have been, on specialty craft.   At VJ day he was PCO for a floating drydock.  It was scheduled to go to the South Pacific arena had the war not ended.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The story goes that the dock was a ten section floating drydock, half of which were powered and towed the other half, 2 by 2. I have not been able to find data indicating that one of those powered units ever existed, but there were some built (9 I think) and in service that had to be towed.  These were not trivial docks, there are photos of one with the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Iowa</st1:state></st1:place> in it.  A battleship is not a small thing.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">He told me that he and an “elderly” enlisted “water tender”, probably in actuality a boiler tender, were on one of the unpowered sections doing a test flood down in the builder’s yards  (maybe Philly, maybe Charleston, that I don’t know) when the VJ day whistle blew.  They were both on one wing wall, and the other side had yard birds on it operating the valving.  When the whistle blew, the yard birds all hauled ass, leaving the flood valves open.  By now, there is water on the bottom deck, and sinking fast.  Pop wrestled the valves shut on his side, and the “old” guy crossed, near hip deep, and closed the ones on the other side.  Thus endeth the tale, the truth may be in the logs, but who knows where they might be; I haven’t been able to find data, even the hull number is missing.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">When he was stationed in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city> as a docking officer awaiting the floating dry dock commissioning, Mom had reason to visit him in the Navy Yard.  We were living in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city> then; that is within my memory of that time, including the train trip to get there.  I might have been three years old, so the memories are partial.  However, I confirmed this with him later, he took me on a ride around the parking lot on the Cushman scooter that was assigned to him.  I guess I was thrilled.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Among the things he told of the Navy days was just after he had completed qualifications as a docking officer for a graving dock in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Boston</st1:city></st1:place>.  He was at a USO do put on by a wealthy matron in the <st1:place w:st="on">Back Bay</st1:place>.  About ten PM, the Shore Patrol crashed in and announced that all drydock qualified personnel were to report to the Yard immediately, so off he went.  It turns out that the USS Iowa (BB61) had hit the bottom on the approach to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Boston</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Harbor</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and was to undergo a bottom inspection first thing in the morning.  So here he was, freshly qualified as a D.O, and a battlewagon on its maiden voyage was to be docked.  By him, no less, turns out he was Senior Officer Present in the Repair Division.  When he hit the gate, a full Captain met him, handed him the blocking plan, told him he had until 0600 and left.  It got done.  I am not too sure how bad the damage was, but as I remember the story, they replaced a screw that had been express railed from wherever it had been stored, and the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Iowa</st1:state></st1:place> was under way in pretty short order.  She then left port to participate in hunting down and killing the German cruiser Tirpitz.  And as we know, she was in the Pacific later since that is where the photo mentioned above was taken.  Manus, Ulithi Atoll, December ‘44.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">If you were under 16 and over 12, you needed “working papers” to work on the farms in the area, and then for only 4 hours a day.  Farms only, you had to be 16 to work anywhere else or longer hours.  At 12, I started picking raspberries at one of the local truck farms about 2 miles from home.  We started early to beat the heat.  Most days, we were home by noon.  The time limit was sorta winked at, as long as it wasn’t abused, and the farmers were really careful to not abuse the privilege of hiring kids.  I don’t remember for sure, but I think we got a dime a pint picked, the roadside stands got a quarter when sold.  Raspberries and blackberries were picked by kids, as they grow on picky bushes and the adult workers were better used hauling the heavier crops.  Blueberries were always pick your own, tho’ there were some in the stands for folks that couldn’t manage in the fields.  Each stand owner had a few customers that were taken care of that way.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Age was winked at too, as long as it was close.  I was in the fields about two weeks before the working papers were issued.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">After the raspberry picking was done, most of the roadside stands took on kids to wrassle produce behind the counter or out back hauling stuff in from the trucks and wagons as it came in.  Corn was really fresh picked, as were the carrots, onions, melons and other stuff in season.  My favorite was when the peaches started coming in.  I’d quit the corn stand and go out another mile to the farm we preferred for fresh apples and peaches.  The worst part of that job was picking up the fallen half rotted fruit in the mid-day sun.  (And you CAN eat enough fruit to get sick, peaches and pears alike.)  I wonder how many kids can tell you how heavy a bushel of string beans is.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Dust in the pull off areas in front of the stands was usually a problem with cars coming in and out when it was dry.  I learned to broadcast calcium chloride to settle the dust nearly as well as old man Engebretson, who owned the farm.  You can’t do that today, environmentally unsound, so they say.  (And that farm has long been sold, it is a strip mall now.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Speaking of old man E, I saw him pick up a 600 lb cultivator and hang it on the three point hitch of a Massey tractor.  His son was in the Marines, came home once while I was there.  Talking to him, he admitted the old man was tough as nails, and that the son could not lift the weight the father could.  The son was over 6 feet and probably ran to 220.  Old man E was a Swedish immigrant, spoke with an accent.  Most mornings, it was “Py golly, today ve vork gud.”<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">At age 16, you could work in a greater variety of jobs.  Most of us graduated from the fields to grocery and retail stores.  I worked at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Bell</st1:city></st1:place>’s Market (no longer there) for two years, after school and in the summers.  Stocking shelves, sweeping the floors, bagging customer’s groceries, helping carry out multiple bags and the like.  Then there was the twice a year total inventory and thorough cleaning.  Strip the shelves, count every particle, can, box, weigh every bit of produce.  And wash, wash, wash.  In those days, stores were not open round the clock.  During the week, they closed at 7, Saturday at 5 and not open Sundays at all.  Inventory started Sat after closing, and ended when it ended.  We were divided into shifts and just kept chugging until it was done, sometimes early Monday morning.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">One July Tuesday after July 4th, I got to work around 10, and the store was wide open, fans in the doorways, mops and buckets all over the place.  And stink.  Sometime Saturday night, the ice cream refrigeration plant croaked.  There was no a/c.  Sunday and Monday were a bit “warm” to say the least.  The entire ice cream freezer melted and ran all over everywhere.  The boss called everyone in, even those off shift, told them to dress for cleaning, not for service.  Customers wouldn’t even come in the store until late afternoon.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">At age 18, the work restrictions came off, you could work anywhere at anything.  The summer I turned 18, I landed a job with the power company as a cadet engineer since I was headed to college in the fall.  My assignment was at the E.H. Werner station in South Amboy.  The position was created by the company to expose college students with aspirations of becoming power engineers to the day to day operations of a power plant.  As a first year cadet, you spent time with the different operational positions in the plant, and got to see how things were run and done.  Plant operators and maintenance staff were union, so you couldn’t replace them, but could do anything as long as one of the qualified people was with you.  They made use of that, going for coffee while you did the job.  All OK, one could at least do something rather than sit or stand around watching.  Or they might give you the keys to the dump truck and send you out for the coffee instead.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">One thing they would let you do without an operator with you was clean the trash rack washout pits.  A pretty nasty job.  The pits were around 8 feet deep, maybe 4X4 feet and a grating bottom above the cooling water intake channels.  The trash racks backwashed automatically, flushing fish, seaweed, shells, rocks and other stuff that might clog the condenser tubes into these pits.  The water returned to the canal, and the “stuff” stayed in the pits until someone went down and shoveled it out.  At high tide, the pits were flooded, so the cleaning had to wait for a low tide on day shift.  A few hot days in the summer, and things were a bit stinky to say the least.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The back story on those pits is that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Raritan</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Bay</st1:placetype></st1:place> was home to a lot of scavenger type critters, including horseshoe crabs.  It was very common to find lots of them there.  One morning, Charlie and I got the call to shovel the pits.  We got the tractor, set the bucket down at the edge as a place to put the mess, lifted the cover and were met with a nearly full of crabs, most still alive.  It was my turn to go in --.  The accepted method of getting the crabs out was to pick them up by the tail and heave them up to the bucket.  Some of them didn’t make it and came back down.  One more reason for hard hats, raining horseshoe crabs.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Side light on the Werner station.  Babcock and Wilcox combined with GE to build 5 units of boiler turbine generator packages for JCP&amp;L.  Somehow, the order was modified so that the Werner station got two turbine sets and three boilers.  The other turbines and boilers went to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region>.  I don’t know when that happened, but those units were old when I worked at Werner.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Next door to our house in Matawan was an empty lot that now has two houses on it.  The lot fronted on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Main Street</st1:address></st1:street> and continued all the way through to <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Broad Street</st1:address></st1:street> where we lived.  The whole thing was owned by Phil Neidlinger and his wife.  Nice folks, but not close friends, somewhat older than Mom and Pop.  On the other side of the empty lot was the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Campbell</st1:place></st1:city>’s house.  (Irrelevant to this, they kept an aviary in the back yard and raised canaries.  Tough birds, they wintered over outside well enough.)  Phil used some of the lot for a victory garden, but that stopped for some reason in the early 50s, I think his Gravely walk behind tractor died.  When we were small, that empty lot became a baseball field, and no one had a problem with it.  Home plate was next to our front yard, the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Campbells</st1:place></st1:city> were in right field, and left field was limited by the Neidlinger’s garage.  As the neighborhood gremlins got older, windows became interesting targets, even if by accident.  After one of our windows was taken out by a foul ball, one of the Campbells’ living room windows suffered the inevitable hit (along with some broken shingles) and later one of the garage windows was taken out, we all got the word to stop with baseball there.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Side light on the victory garden:  Even tho’ the war was over, lots of folks kept going for a few years.  Pop tried his hand at it on Phil’s lot.  I think a few things did well, but the Golden Bantam variety corn was not too successful.  Blight got it, and the corn borers got what was left.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <st1:placename w:st="on"><font face="Arial">Mitchell</font></st1:placename><font face="Arial"> <st1:placename w:st="on">College</st1:placename> is in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New London</st1:place></st1:city>.  In those days MC (a Junior College) was touted as a “rehab” school for those that did not do so well at other schools.  Another one, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Keystone</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">College</st1:placetype></st1:place> in PA was the same sort of place.  I was accepted at both of them, and went to Mitchell and graduated.  I didn’t bother applying for transfer to a 4 year school at the time because I knew my draft number would come up as soon as the Draft Board found out I had finished.  The summer I left Mitchell, I had a job with Burns &amp; Roe (an engineering outfit) located in NYC.  Not long after I started there, they asked me if I’d like to go to <st1:city w:st="on">Thule</st1:city> (<st1:place w:st="on">Greenland</st1:place>) to work on the contract they had with the Air Force to run the power plant.  I had no great wish to go to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Viet Nam</st1:place></st1:country-region> and the position was draft deferred as defense critical, so I said sure, and the background investigation was started.  Within a week or two, I got the formal announcement that my number was up.  Still had no wish to go to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nam</st1:place></st1:country-region>, so I went to see the Navy recruiter and the rest is history.  The Navy BI came back before the B&amp;R item did, so I went in and told the boss I was leaving in two weeks.  The following week, the Thule BI came back, but by then I’d already signed the enlistment papers.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Mitchell was in some ways an uninteresting place, but they did try to do a good job academically.  There was a pretty unusual (for the time) collection of students from all over the world, I think because a lot of them did not have a good handle on English, and went there to improve their ability to understand instruction.  There were a couple Saudis there, one of whom played the ood, some kind of stringed instrument from the desert.  And sang with it, very badly.  Another kid from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Thailand</st1:place></st1:country-region> attended both years I was there.  He has since retired from government service in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Thailand</st1:place></st1:country-region>, turns out he was from a very highly placed upper crust family.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">I learned to play bridge at Mitchell.  There were quite a few good players that I hung around with and were in the some of the same classes.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Also learned to sail while there.  The school owned a 6 boat fleet of 14 foot Tall Stars and a 26 foot K boat.  There were some pretty good skippers at the school from the junior ranks in RI and <st1:place w:st="on">Long Island</st1:place> sound.  (Between the sailing and bridge playing, I think there is found the reason some of those guys were in rehab.)  Just down the river from the school, there was a small yacht club that put on races regularly in the summer, which of course I didn’t see.  In February, they also put on regular regattas for Penguin class boats that was rightly called Frostbite Racing.  Lots of hard core Penguin owners came to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New London</st1:place></st1:city> for the weekend racing.  As I remember, the season was about 6 weeks on Sundays.  Quite a few showed up alone with their boats, and needed crew as there was no way to win sailing single handed.  I got on with a guy that showed up regularly.  Yep, it is cold on the water in the snow and insanely high wind for small craft.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The Coast Guard Academy is just up the river from Mitchell.  Coasties sailed K boats as part of their training.  The school’s K boat was a former USCG boat that Mitchell acquired as scrap and fixed up.  We would once in a while go up river and mess with them a bit.  On one occasion, 7 of us took the K boat up and chatted up a boat full of Coasties for a short while.  They seemed to think that they could do damage to our psyches by beating us in an impromptu race.  After all, they were near professional sailors and we were just a rag tag bunch of townies that couldn’t possibly know how to sail well.  The breeze that day was moderately stiff.  They said “go” and off we went.  We headed them on the downwind leg ran away on the reach and finished them off by a whole lot on the tacking leg.  It happens that the guy we used as skipper was the Long Island Thistle class champion.  We had 5 guys on the weather rail, one guy spinning the bilge pump and the skipper braced on the combing.  Still took on some greenies on the point and reach.  The Coasties decided the wind was unsafe, and went back to their mooring.  We stayed out until dinner time; our boat had some advantages, heavier keel and more sail.  More balls than common sense aboard, too.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Speaking of bridge playing.  When I went aboard the Gato, there were only three bridge players aboard, me and two officers.  Obviously, that was not enough, so not much got played.  That is, until we took the first northern run, when we had a dozen riders along.  We then totaled 6 players, which at least gave us a chance of a card game (other than poker or acey deucy, dominoes was pretty popular, too) when off watch.  It didn’t take too long to attract some other attention, both enlisted and officer, and for the next 40ish days, the 6 of us originals trained up at least 30 more guys to the point where some serious competition got started.  Several guys went on later to earn master’s points in various clubs outside the navy.  The last month out, there was almost no time when there wasn’t a game going on in the crew’s mess, sometimes even during chow.  There was no distinction made between officer and enlisted at the bridge table; a bad play brought down serious, often impolitely stated criticism.<o:p></o:p></font></div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>ghrit</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=155</guid>
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		<item>
			<title>PATRIOTS WHO ARE SERIOUS ABOUT SURVIVAL!!</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=154</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 03 Sep 2008 16:57:40 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[* THE TIME IS NOW!  
    * ALL PATRIOTS MUST TAKE THIS MESSAGE AND SPREAD IT OUT. 
    * NOT MUCH TIME IS LEFT. 
 
 
 
 
 
IT'S TIME FOR ALL OF US TO...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div align="center">  * THE TIME IS NOW! <br />
    * ALL PATRIOTS MUST TAKE THIS MESSAGE AND SPREAD IT OUT.<br />
    * NOT MUCH TIME IS LEFT.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
IT'S TIME FOR ALL OF US TO FOCUS ON THE PRESENT AND BEGIN TO GET READY NOW!<br />
TIME IS ALMOST OUT AND WE HAVE A LOT TO DO.<br />
<br />
PREPARATION, ORGANIZATION, AND NETWORKING IS THE KEY TO OUR SURVIVAL<br />
POWER IN NUMBERS!!!.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
My name is Deborah and I am trying to do my share to help direct all of us<br />
Patriots to the same starting point. Whether you already have all your<br />
survival plans in place or you are a newbie to all this, either way you<br />
MUST reach out. If you have a plan, then do the right thing by<br />
networking your survivalist group and assisting with others who are<br />
looking to start a new survivalist group, or want to find a group to<br />
team up with. And if you are not  prepared and do not have a<br />
survivalist group to join, you are not alone. That is where I am.<br />
Strength are in numbers. And we all need to get organized and network<br />
together so we have a strong force of people all over the country. <br />
<br />
I have done a lot of research and I believe we can do this if we all just<br />
made this our number 1 priority. The truth is awful, but what is even worse is it we ignore the<br />
facts and waste what little time we still have. If there is a will,<br />
then there is a way.<br />
I want to live through this and I know you all do too. So please check out this FREE site <b><a href="http://www.uaff.us" target="_blank">www.uaff.us</a>.</b><br />
It is a great place to begin to network and connect with others. If you<br />
want to help all your  brothers and sisters in this movement, and<br />
really be a part of changing this country, then lets all donate and get<br />
these survivalist bunkers built.<br />
<br />
We can get organized and<br />
connected by each location and then just branch out.  There is a way to<br />
join the UAFF and start your  own "chapter" or branch in the area you<br />
are in. If each of you who already have a survivalist group would join<br />
and make your group a chapter, then this network will begin to grow<br />
very fast. Then we can communicate with each other and find out what<br />
other survivalist groups<br />
or people need to build their chapters. We can share info, plans,<br />
ideas, ect... We can organize what skills people have or  what trades<br />
people know to help lf we all had the same platform then we can begin<br />
to build up and take care of each other and make this work.  We will<br />
have a way to supply all the things we need for our groups, to stay<br />
self sufficient and to protect each other. ORGANIZATION AND NETWORKING<br />
TOGETHER is the answer.  We can get our patriots who are tech experts<br />
and electricians together and create a communications system for all<br />
our groups to<br />
communicate after our power grid is shut off. We can do so much if we use our imaginations and leave our fear behind, and<br />
TRUST each other . .<br />
<br />
Remember we are all in this together. We<br />
all are at a dangerous time and we all have the loss of liberties,<br />
enslavement, and death staring us in the faces right now! <br />
But we can do this !<br />
We can do this like we have done before....<br />
<br />
If Ron Paul supporters  were able to raise 4 million dollars for Ron Paul's<br />
first money bomb back in November 2007, then we all can do the same and<br />
raise enough money to do this and have a few fully stocked bunkers in<br />
each of our states.<br />
<br />
We all need a place to hide until its time<br />
to take our country back.  This will be the key to our survival. Hiding<br />
our supplies, our kids, our ammo, our water, and us. Remember where the<br />
elites are going? They get to go to their safe havens that have been<br />
built underground. So this means that there is going to be complete<br />
chaos going on for a few months. People who did not see this coming,<br />
and people who ignored the warning signs will be in complete shock.<br />
They will have to fight off the military, the loiters, along with<br />
starvation, disease, ect... And the military will be on a shoot to kill<br />
order if the Americans decide to resist and not surrender.  So the best<br />
kind of hiding place for us, the Patriots, I think is underground. <br />
Take a look at these plans I attached on how this is possible. We can do<br />
this and be very comfortable at the same time. But we have to begin<br />
ASAP!  I know we all can do this but we have to step up and get this<br />
movement rolling forward  NOW!  <br />
<br />
If we all went right  to  <b><a href="http://www.uaff.us" target="_blank">www.uaff.us</a></b>  and signed up for <b>FREE.</b> Then donated any amount, we can<br />
get this started today!!!  Also if you have land you want to donate<br />
then lets get a list of where and how much land we have to work with.<br />
<br />
Just<br />
try to imagine all of us having a organized system at each location.<br />
And each location has a underground fully stocked bunker that your<br />
family and your fellow patriots are safe in. And everyone in your group<br />
or chapter knows there jobs, and are taking care of their<br />
responsibilities. All of us working as a team.<br />
We can even have a<br />
safety bunker that all the young kids and babies can stay in when the<br />
time has come for the freedom fighters to go back up and help defend<br />
our country. We have to plan for the worst and pray for the best....<br />
<br />
WE CAN DO THIS!!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.uaff.us" target="_blank">www.uaff.us</a> <br />
<br />
OUR TIME HAS COME!!!<br />
<br />
IF<br />
ANYONE HAS ANY IDEAS OR COMMENTS,  PLEASE RESPOND. IT'S ALWAYS NICE TO<br />
KNOW WHETHER OR NOT YOUR EMAIL MESSAGE DID ANY GOOD OR IF IT JUST GOT<br />
DELETED AND SENT TO THE TRASH....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading this message.<br />
If you want to contact me by phone or by email,<br />
<br />
Debby <br />
<a href="mailto:iloveronpaul@yahoo.com">iloveronpaul@yahoo.com</a><br />
(832-515-1324)</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>iloveronpaul</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=154</guid>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Tales from before time, Part 1</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=153</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 24 Aug 2008 00:11:36 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment"...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment" smilieid="2" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype><font face="Arial">Tales from before time (or from my past life, however you want to name it.)  One of the things that irritated me about my father was his lack of interest in passing along stories of his youth.  There were some as you'll see, but by no means enough, and he died three weeks short of his 90th before I could finish picking his brain.  So here is an abridged version of what I intend that my sons should see, eventually.</font><br />
<br />
<br />
+++++++++<br />
<font face="Arial"><o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">My father played a lot of solitaire over his life.  He would NEVER play out a hand that had three of the same number come up on the up cards at the deal.  Nor would he play if two pair showed up.  He said, probably rightly, that the odds were so far against winning that it wasn’t worth the effort.  To my mind, solitaire is to fill in time, so even if you can’t win, you get the practice.  (And I won a few, triples showing on the deal.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Don, Ed, and I hung out quite a bit until Don moved to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Connecticut</st1:place></st1:state>.  Don and I ran a trap line for a couple years while in 6<sup>th</sup> and 7<sup>th</sup> grade.  We took muskrat out of Matawan Creek below both Lakes Matawan and Lefferts, and for a time above <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Lefferts</st1:placename></st1:place> in the swamp.  At the time we started that operation, pelts were worth 6 or 7 dollars for the larger ones.  I guess we trapped them out, as they started coming in smaller during our second year.  There were quite a few folks making money trapping m’rats, and it was not just us cleaning out the creek.  The creek was in tide water, so running the line had to coincide with low tide, which did not always jibe with school hours.  More than once, we got to school late.  No problems came of it, we were both pretty good about making up missed work on our own, no need to see the teachers for much background.  At one point, we had 64 traps set.  Didn’t always check all of them every day.  A very good week netted 5 rats, and we were often skunked.  That was pretty good money for a couple kids.  Don got most of it to offset the cost of traps, but I got my share.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">One morning while running the lines, we came across a water logged row boat.  Heavy sucker, but we conned Don’s mom into driving down and hauling the thing to his house in the station wagon.  It stank, but we dried it out, cleaned it up, calked the seams and floated it on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype>  <st1:placename w:st="on">Matawan</st1:placename></st1:place>.  I have no idea what happened to it after that, might have been in Ed’s care after Don left.  (I don’t remember exactly when he left for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Danbury</st1:place></st1:city>, but it had to have been at roughly age 15.  Ed and I went to visit the following year by train, and Don had his driver’s license.  Had to be 16 in CT at the time.  I don’t remember how he came to have it for use, whether his or his parents, but it was an MG Magnette.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Basketball:  Played a tremendous amount of pickup round ball with classmates and others. Not only at the school outside courts, but behind Borough Hall where there was a sort of playground.  Both locations were within easy walking distance of home.  I had a net at home, but the ground was a bit too rough for anything but standing shots.  Mickey, up the street also had one on the gravel drive that was little better.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Pizza, then.  The first one I ever ate was at “Dutchy” Tourine’s restaurant up by the railroad station.  Liked it then, and I still think it was if not still the best on the planet.  Dutchy’s was still there in 04, but a bus had plowed into the front, they were closed when I went by.  Dutchy’s family lived next door to Don, and we knew Frank (only kid.)  He was three classes ahead of us if I remember right.  Knowing the family did NOT help the pricing --<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">“The <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Bell</st1:city></st1:place>”  Pop found a bell somewhere, and mounted it above the backdoor to the house.  When it was time for dinner (or another scheduled “event”) Mom would ring it.  We usually knew it was coming, so remained close enough to the house to hear and get on home.  Loud, it was, but not so loud that we could not avoid hearing it by being far enough away.  Which happened now and then, resulting in missing the “event” (including dinner, if it came to that.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">For a while after Pop got out of the Navy, we lived in a small house (rented) in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Laurence</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Harbor</st1:placetype></st1:place>.  We were there until the house in Matawan became available.  Mom’s Cocker Spaniel used to dig under the fence in back and go walkabout.  He would not always come when called, so it precipitated a search.  L and I were too young (3 and 4 or so) to participate, but we went along.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The same dog bit me on the left elbow once while in LH.  Seems I walked by too close while he was eating, and he took it as a threat to take the food away.  Most of the time, he was pretty friendly, but obeyed only Mom and (sometimes) Pop.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Not too long after Mom’s Cocker died (of some sort of paralysis) I bugged for a dog, thought it would be neat.  So we got a mutt, black with a white bib.  Now, that was one dumb dog, never did learn to come when called, and was not much fun to walk on a leash.  Pulled no matter what you did, and if you took the leash off, he was gone.  Never knew how long he’d be gone, but always found his way home, not necessarily in time for dinner.  I think he was given up when the folks moved to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city> in 1960 and I was off to college.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">School was only half a mile from the house, the entire time I was in elementary and high schools.  Thinking back, there may have been two or three times in the entire 13 years that we were driven up.  I think maybe I didn’t take a bicycle more than a very few times either.  Bike theft did happen.  Fact is, I had my first full size (26”) bike stolen from where I left it in the marsh when Don and I were running the traps line.  Worth note, I never had a two wheeler before that one, went straight from a tricycle to the full sized one.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">About 25 yards short of the school corner, the sidewalk was badly buckled from a huge tree root.  Yellow jackets took up residence every year, and we had to cross the street to avoid stirring them up.  Not fun, those buggers would chase you forever.  One neighbor kid took off running one day, was stung a few times as they followed him into the schoolhouse.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Yellow jackets bother me selectively, I think there is a genetic policy to find and sting me with great effect; I have about 4 hours to get some medical assistance.  Aside that, I’ve been known to attract them unknowingly.  One time I was watching a kid’s soccer match in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Midland</st1:place></st1:city> while leaning against a no parking sign.  Idly bouncing off and on the post resulted in a sudden sting on the leg.  Looking down, I could see right away that the nest at the base of the pole had been disturbed and them yellow buggers were swarming out, and setting parts of me in their sights.  I lit a shuck, could have set a world record for a sprint, but it wasn’t enough.  The nailed me 18 times while everyone was watching me hightail it across the field right thru the match.  Took a trip to the ER on that one.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">That first bike was a used one that Pop acquired in the fall.  He hid it in the cellar, or thought he did.  I found it, figured out what was going on and never said a word until after it appeared under the Xmas tree that December, repainted in a hurry with a brush some evening after us kids sacked out.  I guess I knew that they knew that I knew, but maintaining the secret was worth it for all of us.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">After it was stolen, I did without for about two years if I remember right.  I got a 3 speed “English racer” for Xmas; a Universal make which I haven’t seen before or since.  Now, that bike got a lot of use, went every where on it.  When I got out of the Navy, I took it to Michigan Tech figuring to use it to classes.  Bad plan, the hill was long and steep.  I don’t remember what happened to it after that.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Don and I used to double up on that bike, or on his if one or the other of us had a flat.  Very common, flats, in those days.  We got pretty good at switching off rider and passenger on the top bar, dropping one of us off and the other continuing home.  Also got really proficient at tire repairs, spoke tuning, bearing greasing and the like of general maintenance of wheeled things.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">As good as we were at double riding, my bike became unstable above a certain speed with both of us on it.  (One up, no problem.)  There was a hill behind the school that went down to a bridge across the creek.  We went down that way double once, had to walk home.  Estimated speed of the crash was just about 30 mph.  A few scrapes would be descriptive enough.  A few repairs to the bike, and away we went again with scabs, three days later.  But NOT down <i>that</i> hill.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The winters frequently froze both lakes hard enough for ice skating, so long as you knew and avoided the areas where springs kept the ice thin.  But not every year.  Ed, Don and I found a couple 55 gallon drums one fall, and determined that it was possible to build a raft with them and some scrap wood.  Accordingly, we turned these two barrels into what appeared a serviceable platform to go fishing from.  The project was completed over the Christmas school holiday, and as needs must, it got tested two days after the 25<sup>th</sup> (more or less, I don’t remember.)  <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Lefferts</st1:placename></st1:place> had not yet frozen, but it was trying.  We shoved the contraption down the bank and into the drink.  WOW!!  It actually floated.   So, with two boards for paddles, Ed steadied it while Don and I climbed on.  Soon after we pushed away from the bank, the raft started oscillating port to starboard with vigor.  Right after that, Don and I went for an impromptu swim in what we later reckoned as 33 degree water.  Don was wet from the waist down, even with the water only knee deep.  I think three hairs on the top of my head remained dry.  So a hot bath at Ed’s house, and a dry clothes delivery by my Mom ended the day.  Lesson learned: Stability is everything when it comes to rafts, and ballasting it down would not be the answer as Pop later explained to me.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">My father was fascinated by kites.  As kids, he and my uncle built and flew them often, so I was told.  My first kite experience was in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Laurence</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Harbor</st1:placetype></st1:place>.  We assembled a couple or three five and dime kites and went down to the beach on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Raritan</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Bay</st1:placetype></st1:place>, not very far from the house.  It wasn’t summer as I remember, we had heavier clothes on than that.  My kite would not stay in the air, and finally crashed in the water.  End of the day for that fun.  I’ve never had much luck with kites, nor with other flying machines.  Sometime in early high school, I built a gas engine model plane.  Crashed on its maiden flight.  End of flying devices for me.  (No great success with hand launched gliders and paper airplanes, either.  Crashed LOTS of those.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">One of Pop’s kite stories was of a 6 foot tall box kite he and Uncle Ozzie built and flew in Wyomissing Hills just across the street where he grew up.  Smitten by a most excellent idea, they hung a red railway lantern on it and launched it after dark.  Bear in mind that this was in the 1920’s and there were not a lot of flying machines flitting about in the dark.  Longer story short, the sheriff got some calls about something strange going on over the hills, and paid a house call --.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Winters were not too rough in Matawan from a snow standpoint, but now and then we would get a snow day.  It fell to me to dig out the driveway with the old tried and true shovel after Pop managed to get the car out, turned around and off to work.  Depending on the depth of course, this could take a couple hours, even just digging the tire tracks and a wider place to turn the car around in the back yard.  Usually not a pleasant task at best, but worse by far if the tire tracks got hard and icy.  We never did, nor do I think Pop ever get a blower later on when they moved to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>.  And his first power mower was in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city> as well.  I was the chief operator of the push mower (reel type) and hand shears edger.  Either that, or do without something more desirable (as in borrow the car in later years.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">While we lived in Matawan, I dated a girl that suffered from very strict parents.  She was not allowed to go to drive-ins, for example, even after her folks met the kid involved.  They liked me well enough that she was at least allowed to ride with me to where ever we planned to go, so long as it wasn’t a drive-in.  Longer story short, I found out later that all the movies we saw at the drive-in were actually seen in a theatre.  (We have re-established contact, but that will be it.  She is in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Las Vegas</st1:city></st1:place> area, and I’m here.)  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">After we moved to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>, I still did the trip down to see her now and then when we were home from college.  One winter night after starting the holiday break from school, I took off for the 60 mile ride down in a snow storm, managed to get there in one piece.  We went out, I don’t remember where, not that it matters, and I took her home.  Still snowing, and her father suggested that I stay over.  I passed on that and hit the road.  Well, about 5 minutes later, I realized that was a bad idea slithering all over the roads in the Renault.  So I went to Ed’s, woke his parents (he wasn’t yet home from <st1:place w:st="on">Rutgers</st1:place>) and begged a place to sleep.  I got the couch.  Ah, ok, good for the night.  NOT.  That was the dog’s sleeping spot, and I lost the battle.  The floor did me well enough, and the roads were plowed by morning.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">We were a single car family when I was growing up.  That was the first car I participated in driving, bearing in mind that I could not come close to reaching the pedals, nor see over the dash.  So, sitting in Pop’s lap, I got to steer it on some residential streets in <st1:place w:st="on">West Reading</st1:place> on a visit to Grandma’s house.  In 1950, Pop bought a new Ford, which was replaced by a '53 Pontiac in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"></st1:place></st1:city>' 56 or '57.  I learned to drive in the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pontiac</st1:place></st1:city>, and it saw some back seat activity on a few, very few, occasions.  The <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pontiac</st1:place></st1:city> was replaced with a 59 Ford wagon somewhere along the line, and a ‘59 Nash Rambler was added to the stable as a second car.  I think I have this all in order, but maybe not.  Pop had a company car in those days, so at one point there were three cars around.  I took the Rambler on a foray to Chambersburg PA one winter weekend to see (what else?) a girlfriend from HS that was at school there.  The heater in that car was effective, but blew all the heat on the accelerator pedal foot.  And the wipers were vacuum operated as well, making pulling the hills in PA a real chore in a snow storm.  Which, of course, I hit on the way home.  Foot was red as a beet, even stopping every few miles to clear the windshield while standing in snow.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The Nash was replaced by a 57 Renault <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dauphine</st1:place></st1:state>.  Four doors, it was.  The fluids in that car required replenishment regularly, if it could leak it did.  Sun roof leaked water and air, engine leaked oil and so did the tranny.  I learned to double clutch on that car; it did not have enough snort to pull a hill I had to travel coming home from work.  There was a traffic light at the top of the hill, and it was usual for it to be red, so slowing down was required, getting into first gear was too.  No synchros, so the trick was to float the valves on acceleration, note the speed, and when slowing down, get to that speed and float the valves, pump the clutch thru neutral, and it would drop into gear neatly with no protest.  We had that for maybe two years, but matters little.  What did it in was rather strange.  I was running up to see a roommate in Essex Fells from the house in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>, when all of a sudden, it coughed and stopped.  I had a look in the engine house, and all I could see was that the secondary wiring was bare copper.  Not right, so climbed in, it started, and home I went, called Pop out and he agreed that it was time for a new harness.  Got that replaced.  The following week, I headed up to Tom’s place again and the same thing happened, at the same place.  Eventually we figured out that the fuel pump discharge pipe was connected to the carb by a rubber hose that swung away from the steel pipe on hard left turns, sprayed gas over everything, and spark ignited.  The fire burned off the insulation and went out.  The car was gone right soonly after that.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">My first car was the 59 Ford wagon.  6 pin, 2 speed automatic.  The engine was weak, and the tranny soft, neither one could hurt the other.  I bought it from Pop in 64 when I was clear of Navy basic and was stationed at Windsor Locks for nuclear training.  After I got picked up for staff, that car saw a lot of use, I kept a tool box in the back with the rear seat down.  (Still have the box, it was Pop’s gun locker for many years; I am pretty sure some carpenter’s mate made it for him at the Philadelphia Navy Yard when he was stationed there at the end of the war.)   As time wore on, the performance deteriorated, and it developed a knock.  Eventually, it sorta gave up on the idea of running well, if at all.  I had it diagnosed as main bearing failure, replaced the center main and went to really heavy oil to keep it running at all.  Begged rides to work and all that, and went shopping for a new car.  That resulted in the first new car I ever owned or even drove, the 66 Corvair.  (There are pix of that around.)  The delivery date for the ‘Vair slipped several times, and the Ford was going downhill fast.  I was really concerned that I couldn’t trust it to go anywhere at all.  Eventually, they called and said my car was in, and I could come get it.  The Ford was a trade in and I had to deliver it.  I climbed in and off I went to <st1:place w:st="on">West Springfield</st1:place> to get the keys.  As I pulled into the lot, the Ford stopped, fortunately in a more or less convenient location.  I went into the place, traded papers, got the keys and left quietly as the shop guy tried to start the Ford ---.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Sometime when I was late Cub Scout or early Boy Scout, Pop decided that surf fishing along the <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New Jersey</st1:place></st1:state> coast might be a good activity for us.  He had been a couple times with friends, totally without success, but he liked the idea.  So did I.  The problem was, we had no appropriate gear.  While he was making enough money to support the family at the time, there really wasn’t a lot left over for toys.  So we built surf rods out of what at the time were traditional materials rather than what then was modern, up and coming fiberglass for poles.  Traditional, in this case was <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:place></st1:city> bamboo.  Those rods are both with me now, and except for when I was in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Singapore</st1:place></st1:country-region>, they have been.  Mine was with me all along the way, Pop’s joined it when he left Summerville.  It took over winter to get them put together, what with the careful wrapping of the line guides, fitting the tip top, and wrapping the butts and reel seats to accommodate preferences.  Mine is in the original configuration.  Pop later modified his with a removable butt that he created on a lathe while in Summerville.  We bought inexpensive boat reels that we used many times both on the surf rods and boat rods that we also managed to acquire.  Anyhow, all the dawns we experienced coming up over the Atlantic coast in several places from <st1:place w:st="on">Sandy Hook</st1:place> to Sea Bright and a few times south of there yielded not one fish.  Zero.  The boat rods did land a <i>few</i> fish.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Going back even further, my first fishing rod was a bamboo stick with about 6 foot of monofilament fly line tied to the end and a hook with a bobber attached.  I may have been around 7 years old.  Took a couple sunfish here and there, just enough to get me interested in more fishing.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">I think it was when I was in the Navy at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Windsor</st1:city></st1:place>, I took it into my head to build a fly rod, so I did.  That is still in the fishing arsenal, I’ve taken a few fish with it.  Fly casting is a learned art, and I never did too well.  It is designed as a lake rod, not something you can use in a stream.  Should be OK on a fairly broad river if there is nothing behind you to interfere with the casting and recovery.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">In among things saved and remembered, there is a genuine Army pup tent.  Officially and formally, it is a pair of shelter halves.  The idea was that infantry grunts were each issued one half.  That way, a pair of grunts could buddy up and share a tent in the field.  That practice is long gone, of course, but it is historical fact.  Pop acquired both halves when he was at <st1:place w:st="on">West Point</st1:place> in Beast Barracks.  Originally, the tent poles were sectioned so as to fold into about 1 foot length to fit in a field pack.  Somewhen along the way, those broke, and Pop made solid lengths out of broom sticks, which are also around.  The original pegs should be here as well, but I don’t know if all of them survived many uses by me in various scout camps.  There is also a genuine Army green mosquito net that we rigged inside the tent on a number of occasions.  These two halves don’t match up all that well, but the rain will not come in thru the top.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">My first camping experience was with Pop.  We did an overnight near a place he knew could produce a fish or two.  Turned out the place was jammed with fishermen the next morning.  We didn’t, as I remember, have a lot of luck, but that was the first time with the bamboo pole, too.  I scraped my knee on a rock somehow, and the scrape was literally covered with gnats eating up the scabs.  With the injury, lack of fish, and mobs of guys wetting lines, we left for home later that day rather than stay for two nights as planned.  Didn’t matter to me all that much, sleeping on the ground without a mattress was not my cuppa, and we made sleeping bags of folded blankets since we didn’t own bags.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">In amongst the stuff, there is an aluminum cook kit.  It was Pop’s when he was in Scouts.  I used it throughout out my scouting career and well beyond.  An antique now, definitely not state of the art.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Somewhere along the line, maybe when I was around 15, tennis became a fad.  Tennis racquets were impossibly expensive for me to buy, and it was pretty clear that I wasn’t going to get one for a present.  Pop had one from when he was in college at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Penn</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">State</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and somehow I managed to acquire it.  It was in decent condition, other than the original gut strings were completely shot and the enamel finish was cracked rather badly.  I scraped it down and refinished it, then paid a princely sum to have it restrung with decent materials.  (Still have it, has to be well over 70 years old as this is written.  Because it has been refinished, it isn’t worth much.)  It is a Slazenger, a brand that still lives I think, but pending a looksee on the web, take my word for it.  I don’t know if they still make racquets.  Anyhow, the fad was fairly short lived among the "group" except for me and Joe, lasted about two years for us.  Joe was a class ahead of me and played the drums, both in the school band and commercially; sang, too.  Went to a couple of his shows, he was not going to take over from the Four Tops, but it was serviceable dance music.  We played tennis quite a number of times, neither of us were really worth a hoot at the game, but it was exercise and gave us an excuse to explore various areas in search of courts and girls to meet.  We also double dated more than a few times, fixing each other up with girls one of us knew, but the other didn’t.  Lost track of him when I graduated and we moved to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>.  By then, he was working at the bank, had been for a year since he graduated, and still doing gigs here and there.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">When very small, we visited my mother’s parents in <st1:place w:st="on">West Reading</st1:place> fairly often.  Down the street from their place there was (and still is) a museum.  That held little interest, but there was a pond there that had ducks and swans in residence.  G-ma would save bread that was getting long in the tooth, and we would take it down to the pond and feed the birds.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">About half way between the museum and the house, there was a swimming pool.  When we stayed with the g-parents for any length of time (often enough several weeks) we got season passes.  As it happened, swimming lessons were included.  Never did learn to swim there, that was left for scout camp later on.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">G-pa W had a plot on the hospital grounds that was dedicated to what were then called “<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Victory</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Gardens</st1:placetype></st1:place>” that blossomed during WWII.  He maintained the garden for several years after the war.  Us kids “helped” with the gardening when we were there.  Most fun pulling onions and carrots for the dinner salads.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">G-pa R also had a garden in the empty lot next door to their house.  He was a bit more intense about gardening, but we usually had other things to do while there.  Visits there were frequent enough, but we spent less time there.  The two sets of grandparents homes were only some five miles or so apart, but the sets didn’t interact a whole lot.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">When the folks bought the house in Matawan in ’47, it had an apartment upstairs that was occupied by a retired teacher, Mrs. C.  We lived downstairs until she moved out the following spring.  L and I had the back room downstairs, Mom and Pop had the room just off the dining room.  When she moved out, Pop gutted the upstairs kitchen and re-papered it, and I wound up in there.  L got what was Mrs. C's bedroom, Mom and Pop got her living room.  The room they used downstairs became a study/dayroom and the back room became the playroom for L and me.  As time went on, all the rooms except the upstairs bath were stripped, papered and painted.  I am not sure why that upper bath was never finished, but it remained unfinished (stripped of wall paper, but never re-done) until the move to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madison</st1:place></st1:city>.  Always suspected that there was a disagreement between Pop and Mom over what it should look like when completed.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">After P was born, my room upstairs became hers, and I moved into the back room downstairs.  That transition took quite a while, P and L shared L’s room for a couple years.  <o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The study/day room also was used for sickies.  Measles, mumps and chicken pox struck all of us.  When any of us came down with something that prevented us from going to school, that was where we were incarcerated until we got better.  No TV in those days, you see, so anyone kept in that room was seriously interested in getting well and out of there.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">When P was born, both L and I had chicken pox.  “The Plan” had always been that when Mom went into labor, Pop would haul us over to <st1:place w:st="on">West  Reading</st1:place> to stay with G-Pa and G-Ma.  Since we were both diseased, the folks felt even more sure that we should be elsewhere until recovered and no longer contagious.  So we were packed up and hauled off completely covered with spots.  As usual, we stopped off at the Turnabout Diner in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Phillipsburg</st1:place></st1:city> for a potty stop and snack.  I remember being stared at, and I’m sure Pop had some ‘splaining to do.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">It didn’t mean too much at the time, but in (I think) 1948, my mother’s cousin competed in the Olympics.  He was an FBI agent and in those days, Olympic competitors trained on their own time in their own way.  His sport was steeplechase basically running over hurdles, through water hazards and the like.  The FBI (reluctantly, I’m lead to believe) gave him time off to attend the Olympics.  He took gold in world record time.  I’m not so sure that wasn’t the last year that steeplechase was an event, but in any case, he did not compete in the next Olympics that I know about.  Horace Ashenfelter, I think he was one of quite a few kids in the farming family, a son of my grandmother’s brother.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Another old timer, Mom’s Uncle Bert, had a farm that he was still running well into his 80s when I knew him in the 40s.  I don’t remember where the farm was, but it was not too far from Horace’s family’s place on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Ashenfelter Road</st1:address></st1:street>.  In a manner of speaking, Bert’s was around the corner from there.  Bert had  two tractors.  Neither of them ran, or at least I never saw it.  He plowed and harvested with draft horses, bug suckers they were.  Someplace in the picture files is a shot taken of L and me sitting on the back of one of those monsters with Bert off to one side.  That shot was taken before P was born, so that puts it before ’47.  That was the first time I ever sat a horse, and I do not remember ever being on another horse of any size at all above a pony.   Very few of those, either.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The first time I ever sat alone in the driver’s seat (that I remember) of any vehicle was on Bert’s farm.  We visited during haying season at some point, I have no clue when.  Bert and the hired hand were loading his old Dodge flat rack, an early duallie of the sort often used on farms in those days.  The steering wheel seemed a mile wide, as it had to be for off and on road use as there was no power steering back then, not even on cars.  The wheel had to provide leverage to steer.  So he “invited” me to steer the truck while he and the hired hand loaded it with pitchforks.  He put it in granny gear, pulled out the hand throttle to a suitable speed, aimed it down the row, and stepped off the running board.  All I had to do was aim the thing while they pitched the hay on.  It might have been moving at all of 2 miles per hour, if that.  Things didn’t work out so well for me, the wheel kept jerking left and right, and since I might have been as old as 6 or 7, there was no way I was strong enough to keep it straight in the furrows and ruts.  About 20 feet of that, and he could see that was a bad idea, so he set it up to his usual method, tied the wheel off and let it steer itself while both men loaded it up.  I was relegated to the top of the pile in back to spread the hay as they pitched it up.  Before the end of the row, I was buried.  For every fork I moved, they pitched up three or four, laughing.  Itchy would be an understatement.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Bert and his wife lived in a stone farmhouse dating from a long time back, they had been there since I guess they were married.  It had an indoor bathroom (added at some point, but the outhouse was still in service) and had electricity installed.  Water was piped in from the well which also had a hand pump in service.  Stone is cool in the summer and holds heat well in the winter.  I don’t think we ever visited in the winter, so I can’t tell how they heated it.  I’d guess coal.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">The house in West reading had a gravity furnace, meaning it depended on the fact that warm air rises, and cool air sinks.  In this case, there were registers throughout the house with duct to carry warm air to where it was wanted; the top of the furnace looked like an octopus.  Return air was through floor grates that allowed it to sink to the basement where the furnace took it in and heated it up again.  The furnace was coal fired.  G-pa was a pro at keeping the fire in the box “just right” for more or less comfy living.  (But the air in that house in winter was terrifically dry, and the sulfur smell never went away.)  Coal delivery was from trucks that had elevating dump beds set up for side delivery from bins in the boxes arranged crossways so they could unload several types and grades of coal.  The trucks came to the curb beside the house on the <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Penn St.</st1:address></st1:street> side, and chutes were set up to deliver the coal through a basement window and then shunted to the right bins in the basement.  Both bituminous and anthracite coal was used, bituminous in the mornings to bring the house up to temps quickly, and anthracite for overnight banking.  Bituminous has a higher heating value and burns faster, anthracite burns longer and lower.  More than once, I had the dubious pleasure of “helping” stoke and shake down the ashes.  There was an art to that, one didn’t want to haul down still glowing embers as that meant some heat would be lost to the system, but too many ashes and clinkers would interfere with combustion air.  Ashes went out to the alley once a week.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">There was a lake we fished now and then in northern <st1:state w:st="on">New Jersey</st1:state>, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Swartswood</st1:placename></st1:place>.  Lots of summer cabins there, the shoreline was essentially closed, but there were a couple boat liveries.  The only motors allowed on the lake were those belonging to the Fish and Game department.  We did see them, and were stopped for license checks on several occasions.  Learned to row a straight line on that lake.  Caught numerous pan fish, some small mouth bass, and pickerel left right and center.  We camped there several times.  Got my first hellgrammite bite there.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Pop told stories about how he and his father and younger brother Ozzie went to Swartswood a number of times from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Reading</st1:place></st1:city>.  On one of those trips, G-pa injured himself somehow and Pop had to drive the Model T home at a very young age.  Said it was a bit tricky coordinating shifts for three hours never having practiced at all previously.  I don’t know what the injury was, but G-Pa had his leg amputated below the knee at age 18 from a shooting accident, so tho’ he could drive using three extremities, losing use of another must have made it impossible.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Not long after we got married, I took my wife up to Swartswood well before the kids came along.  She had never been camping before.  Nor much in the way of fishing.  Between the rowing, cooking, baiting hooks and so forth --  Well, I’ve had better camping trips.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Speaking of fishing, one of the guys that worked with Pop owned a 7-1/2 horse outboard motor that he often hung on the back of a rental boat and went out into <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Raritan</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Bay</st1:placetype></st1:place> for whatever he could induce to bite.  One time, he invited Pop and me to go along.  As it happens, Pop’s father was visiting, so the four of us climbed in a 15 foot or so skiff and launched off the beach somewhere west of Atlantic Highlands.  It was seriously foggy, visibility was limited to a few hundred yards at best.  Probably not a good idea to go, but Bucky was experienced and pretty well skilled with small boats.  We had a bucket full of bait, and it didn’t take too long to find a school of porgies that would eat anything in front of their noses, and we made sure they had plenty to eat.  All four of us were hauling them in nearly as fast as we could rebait and wet the line.  After a couple hours, we ran out of bait, and you can believe this or not, but Bucky had a red bandana which we hacked into strips and hung on the hooks.  It worked very well for half an hour or so until the fog lifted, the sun came out and the fish stopped biting.  We were by then out in the bay just beyond the end of the NAD Earle ammo pier, well into seagoing channels.  I don’t remember the number of fish we caught, but there wasn’t much more than 3 inches of freeboard when we beached the boat coming in.  I do remember there were 7 burlap sacks full of fish, and we were kicking them out of the way when we moved our feet, and we borrowed some bushel baskets from the boat livery to haul them home.  (Bucky fished commercially as well as working at the plant, so he had customers.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Some years later, Bucky bought a 20 odd foot fishing boat, we went out once or twice with him, usually came home with a sack of bluefish.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">One night, the doorbell rang, it’s Bucky.  He wants to know if we would like some lobster.  Pop and Mom said something to the effect that sure, we’d take a couple.  He says, well, come have a look and take your pick.  So he opens the trunk of his car, and there are only two lobsters there.  One was 13 lbs, the other was 35 lbs.  We took the 13 pounder.  Took three pots to cook it up, would not fit in the biggest one that Mom had.  (Bucky ran some pots out of Rumson; these were taken there.  The 35 pounder went into a lobster salad at some restaurant.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">In NJ, you couldn’t hunt alone until you were old enough to get a license, and Pop was not a hunter at all.  14 was the age, if you took a hunter safety course, (which Don and I did) or you had to wait until 18.  Our favorite hunting grounds was a farm about 5 miles from the house.  During hunting season, we went out moderately often; I went by myself more often than with Don.  To get there, we had to go right thru the middle of downtown.  It took just about an hour to get the five miles behind us.  All the times we walked thru downtown carrying guns, not once were we stopped for any reason.  In fact, a number of us would meet now and then in front of Gittens soda shop on the way home, all armed.  I can’t imagine that today.  (I think the most at one time may have been 8 or so.  Today, that would be an armed insurrection.)  We never scored anything worth taking home, but managed to knock off some pests, ground hogs and feral cats for example.  In reality, there wasn’t much game around, it was pretty heavily farmed.  Rabbits and squirrels, for sure, but no deer.  There was some bird hunting, but not in that area other than ducks, and that was an extra cost stamp, which was not in the budget.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">We didn’t recognize it until later, but marijuana grew wild in the area.  By the time that became significant, I was long gone from that area, off to school and the service.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Thus endeth Part 1.  If I get motivated, I'll put up a Part 2.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><br />
</st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></font></div>

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			<dc:creator>ghrit</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=153</guid>
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			<title>A Visit From Friends</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=152</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 20 Aug 2008 04:49:45 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[I grew up in Oregon's Willamette Valley - truly one of the most beautiful places on earth. After 36 years, I followed a job and moved to Nevada,...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>I grew up in Oregon's Willamette Valley - truly one of the most beautiful places on earth. After 36 years, I followed a job and moved to Nevada, which I've grown to love in a short time. God blessed me with my wife and child here.<br />
 <br />
We get visitors periodically, and visiting Lake Tahoe is about the only close-by place to see (unless they like to gamble). I wouldn't mind going out into the desert someplace and shooting rifles or digging up rocks, but most visitors don't get their jollies doing things like that. I suppose it's a "guy" thing since my wife and daughter don't get too excited about that either.<br />
 <br />
The other places to visit in the area are Pyramid Lake and Virginia City - both are about an hour away and have their own attractiveness. Fishermen would probably enjoy Pyramid Lake even more than Lake Tahoe. Virginia City is a historically significant landmark turned into a tourist "trap", but fun to visit the curios shops and old hotels.<br />
 <br />
There's another attraction that's going to be in Nevada on November 1st &amp; 2nd:  A second Appleseed training event (of this year) (see <a href="http://appleseedinfo.org/smf/index.php?topic=1043.0" target="_blank">http://appleseedinfo.org/smf/index.php?topic=1043.0</a> for details). It's to be held way out in the desert about 50 miles past Fallon and about 2 hours from my house. <i>This is one of those events that I'll try to get visitors to come to Nevada for</i>. Any Monkeys I "know" are certainly welcome to go with me.  Tents, sleeping bags, stories by the campfire, shooting the rifle all day -- hard to beat!<br />
 <br />
Getting back on subject, my best friend and his wife came down from Oregon for a visit and we were able to play tourists for a couple days. This is the guy I spent many an hour preparing for Y2K with -- he actually <i>did </i>many projects back before '00 that I'd like to eventually pursue (e.g. making soap, nitrogen packaging, more...). We were enthralled with "Triple Ought", and we tried our best to attain a simple supply of preparations.<br />
 <br />
I remember calling him from Nevada back in 1999 and mentioning to him that there's no way I'm going to be prepared for Y2K. I had just a few staples socked away, a 10/22 and 9mm pistol, and a long way to march to get to Oregon. [Good thing I didn't have to use those preps.]<br />
 <br />
Now that he's married, his concentration has been diverted (as it should be towards your wife), but he still thinks of projects to keep "on track" without disturbing the man/wife balance. Of course, any prep-minded Monkey will think this is the way life should be lived, but many of us are distracted by entertainment and other "Golden Chains" that entangle us. One heinous distraction is the thought that you're not rich enough to be prepared (something I think of quite often); believe it or not, I think this can actually be beneficial!<br />
 <br />
If you don't have the money to buy tons of canned good, you can learn to can your own product.  Can you buy 10,000 rounds of your favorite ammo?... Try getting a reloader and learning that skill (our own Martin97 can get you set up pretty well for a reasonable cost and good advice on top of that!).  What about other skills that will be useful that don't cost much to learn... You don't need to be rich, and I've learned that well from my good friend.<br />
 <br />
So, there's the lesson from two poor boys that are set on providing for their families if times get rough.<br />
 <br />
<font color="darkred">"I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Mark 2:17</font></div>

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			<dc:creator>NVBeav</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=152</guid>
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			<title>Settling in -</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=151</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 17 Aug 2008 15:14:08 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[<o:p> </o:p> 
  Things are settling down to a dull roar since the moving van was unloaded.  I keep finding new things about the house, so far nothing...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Things are settling down to a dull roar since the moving van was unloaded.  I keep finding new things about the house, so far nothing that would have made me shy away from the deal, sort of like finding a last popped kernel in the bottom of the bag.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">For examples:<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-The landfill, now closed, is down hill from me.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-The previous owner left ALL the owner’s manuals for appliances.  (Usually, one or more is missing.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-My periodicals are finally catching up to me, the stock of reading materials is now exceeded only by my things to do list.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-The gas company wants me to sign a lease!!  They are drilling several miles away already, and if they hit productive quantities, I’ll get royalties.  Not much, but income that was not anticipated if it comes true.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-There is evidence my hearing is improving after umpteen years exposure to construction and heavy equipment noise.  I don’t figure it will all return, but so far it is noticeable.  (Really quiet up here, just the way I imagined.  The worst noise is lawn mowers and the weekend shooters.  Both acceptable, and don’t happen at night.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">There are a couple downsides that have compensations, just as wished for, so I suppose they are not really downsides.  The property is only about 3 miles from town, if a town of only 900 souls can be called a town.  (Just over 8 miles to large supermarkets.)  Trouble is, there is either half a mile of horrendously steep and washboarded road complete with gravel surface, or 1.5 miles of less steep but almost equally slippery surface.  All of which means no tourists come this way seeking some of the spectacular views that these narrow valleys and steep hills produce.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Once down the hill, the roads have a lot of potential for motorcycle riding, even if PennDOT makes no particular effort to keep the potholes filled and the surfaces smooth.  I’m looking forward to getting lost and finding my way home again; the point is the ride, not the destination (as all riders know.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Things to do, resources and the time to do them coming together:<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Build shelves in the basement for storage of SHTF and other supplies and tools<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Build work benches for whatever projects might come along<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Build a gun servicing (cleaning, messing with, whatever) bench<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Get my 1830s grandfather’s clock running.  There is a comfort in the tick-tock that quartz clock kids will never know nor understand.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Restock the BOB to accommodate the bug-in plans rather than get out of town no matter what.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Continue stocking up SHTF supplies.  Before leaving VA, I had reduced the supplies to an absolute minimum to save the costs of moving.  Lots to do in that department.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-Rewire the breaker box so the gennie can be plugged in readily to the well pump and water heater, then figure a way to move the gennie from the shed to the house that won’t strain my scrawny carcass.  (180 pounds without fuel, and if necessary thru snow.)<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">-PAINT.  Somehow, lavender walls in the bathroom don’t cut it for me, nor is a reddish salmon in the living room particularly suitable.<o:p></o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial"><o:p> </o:p></font><br />
  <font face="Arial">Yeah, I think I’m going to like it here.<o:p></o:p></font></div>

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			<dc:creator>ghrit</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=151</guid>
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			<title><![CDATA[An "official" family portrait...]]></title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=150</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 05 Jun 2008 06:56:24 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[For quite some time now we've wanted to have an official family portrait taken... and today we finally had it done. 
  
1st we picked that special...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><font color="olive">For quite some time now we've wanted to have an official family portrait taken... and today we finally had it done.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive">1st we picked that special location, </font><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive"><img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Family%20Album/Middlepartofourspringfedcreek053108.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></font><br />
<font size="1"><b><font color="olive">( LOCATION: The spring-fed creek located on our family farm )</font></b></font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<font size="1"><font color="olive"><font size="2">and here we go, </font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="1"><font color="olive"><img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Family%20Album/AfamilyofHAPPYFEETtakenJune4th20-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="2"><font color="olive">Now I know that I am very pleased! :D lol he,he</font></font><br />
<br />
<font size="2"><font color="olive">Other than that, have a most beautiful day where ever you are &amp; <b>don't forget to stop and smell the roses...</b> as sometimes it'll slip our minds?!?!?</font></font><br />
<br />
<font size="2"><font color="olive">Sincerely,</font></font><br />
<br />
<font size="2"><font color="olive">~ Wildernessgal &amp; family ~</font></font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<font size="1"><font color="olive"><img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/naisgoat.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><a href="http://nonais.org/" target="_blank"><b><font face="Arial Black"><font size="7"><font color="red">http://nonais.org/</font></font></font></b></a></font></font></font></div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=150</guid>
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			<title><![CDATA[The latest from a backwoods "Survival Family"...]]></title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=149</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 02 Jun 2008 16:45:55 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[I guess with the weather heatin' up many are quite busier than normal out-of-doors... 
  
Been making/mastering homemade RAW CHEESE out of our fresh...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>I guess with the weather heatin' up many are quite busier than normal out-of-doors...<br />
 <br />
Been making/mastering homemade RAW CHEESE out of our fresh raw goats milk, &amp; boy oh boy is it ever so tasty!!! It tastes nothing like store-boughten cheese and has so much more flavour! DELISH!!!! There's no going back to making cheese the old way where you have to buy so much modern commercial unnecessary cr*p!<br />
 <br />
Onto another subject....Daughter loved my recent birthday cake (all from scratch) where I used our goat's milk to make a raw goat's milk cream cheese cake frosting sooooooooooo much, that she's really been participating more in our twice daily milking.<br />
 <br />
Here's super-cute photograph to share below:<br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/53108ChasemilkinRhyme.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
 <br />
As for everything else we've noticed mother nature being a lot more topsey-turvey/less predictable with her weather conditions. Normally the strawberries come on every year @ a certain time, and they were late... Cooler than normal this year, and then it flip flops back and forth. I'd have to say that anyone who's into SURVIVAL will have to be much more particular about what types of crops they choose to grow in the future. You're gonna have to pick more versatile crops which handle a wider range of temps, and stuff that is just plain ol' SUPER HARDY.<br />
 <br />
Regarding chickens, our super-broody Buff Orpington's are pumping out lots of chicks for us... which works out great as we love chicken! Buff Orpingtons are definately THE BEST CHICKEN WE'VE EVER HAD (&amp; we've tried many different breeds through the years)! They're truly what we would call a self relient SURVIVAL CHICKEN breed. <br />
 <br />
Not much else is going on other than working hard/keeping busy and trying to meet our goals as a family!<br />
 <br />
As always I wish everyone the best!<br />
Take care now...<br />
 <br />
Sincerely,<br />
 <br />
<b>~Wildernessgal~</b><br />
 <br />
P.S.- Oh yes, before I forget... down in our creek area we have lots of wild medicinal herbs growing without a care. This week I plan on harvesting a bunch/drying them for future use. A personal favorite of mine is Cleavers, as it's a blood purifier and makes for delicious warm healthful tea during the winter months. We try to make use of as much as we can around us from Mother Nature's maintenance free garden/supermarket. More folk should learn about wildcrafting/wild edibles because it's less for you to grow/have buy, and not too hard on one's pocket book (if ya know what I mean). With the price of everything rising making use of these sorts of free self-sustaining things now (and in the future) can be beyond helpful and give you a huge advantage on the sheeple! Bye now...</div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=149</guid>
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			<title>Sewing...</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=148</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 20 Apr 2008 21:30:09 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[Today daughter finally begged to learn how to sew.... I've got an old foot powered Singer treadle (which I absolutely LOVE). But I am going to start...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>Today daughter finally begged to learn how to sew.... I've got an old foot powered Singer treadle (which I absolutely LOVE). But I am going to start her off with the BASICS: Handsewing.<br />
 <br />
<b><font size="3"><font size="2">Daughter's 1st project will be a bag! ;)</font></font></b><br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><b><img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/Homeschool%20Album/sewingisFUN.jpg" border="0" alt="" /> <font size="2"><font color="red"><font face="Lucida Console">...&amp; EDUCATIONAL!</font> </font></font></b><br />
 <br />
</font><br />
Time to scadoodle, as I am also trying to get all of my baking done in advance for the week...<br />
 <br />
Sincerely,<br />
~Wildernessgal~<br />
 <br />
P.S.- Hubbie use to do a lot of "leatherwork" when he was a kiddo... we plan on getting all that we need to start doing some of that as well.<br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/Homeschool%20Album/SEWINGIMAGE.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=148</guid>
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			<title><![CDATA[Springtime "IMAGES" from our Backwoods Survivalist Homestead]]></title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=147</link>
			<pubDate>Fri, 11 Apr 2008 21:50:45 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[There's nothing better than having the PEACE & SERENITY of living in a very private backwoods location... Garsh, if we wanted to, we could become...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><font size="3"><font color="olive">There's nothing better than having the PEACE &amp; SERENITY of living in a very private backwoods location... Garsh, if we wanted to, we could become NUDISTS out here and no one would even know, or see a thing!?!?! lol</font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><font color="olive">But anyway, we had some FUN taking pics from around our BACKWOODS SURVIVALIST HOMESTEAD. It was part of daughter's "HOMESCHOOL PROJECT!" ;)</font></font><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/NewpicsApril6th2008017.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
<b>(ABOVE PHOTO) The view of some of our dairygoats in the pasture from the front porch of our home which is in the middle of the woods on a hilltop surrounded on 2 sides by a year round creek (live water), &amp; 1 side by a wet weather creek...</b><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/NewpicsApril6th2008003.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
<b>Fruit blossoms starting to come on in the orchard...</b><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/NewpicsApril6th2008016.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
<b>Around our backwoods home, we've fenced off approx. 2 &amp; 1/2 - 3 acres with 6ft tall chicken fence to keep all of our poultry safe while they graze/eat healthful bugs for most of the year... Here's a snap of our colorful "Mr. Gobble" who's a Royal Palm Heritage breed of Turkey.</b><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/NewpicsApril6th2008028.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
<b>A nice Alpine buckling enjoying himself while he grazes out on the pasture near our looooooong backwoods driveway...</b><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/The%20Critter%20Album/NewpicsApril6th2008024.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<b>(Above photo) A few of our dairygoat kids enjoying SPRINGTIME in the most beautiful Ozarks!</b><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><font color="olive">Alrighty, time for me to "head back out"... as it's absolutely beautiful outside and there is so much that I want to get done today/this weekend!</font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><font color="olive">Sincerely,</font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><font color="olive">~Wildernessgal~</font></font></div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=147</guid>
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		<item>
			<title>part 2</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=146</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 08 Apr 2008 05:48:31 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>well it took longer than planned to get the net here, then there servers went bonkers so sunday was the first real day back on line, finally. 
 
well...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>well it took longer than planned to get the net here, then there servers went bonkers so sunday was the first real day back on line, finally.<br />
<br />
well we are still unpacking, and i'm working werid shifts for now and the next couple weeks, so all i do is sleep and work right now.<br />
<br />
we got most of the weeds burned off the place, picked up a lot of trash, but still has more to go till i'm happy, the fence needs painting, need to string some new barbed wire, or hot wire.<br />
<br />
have meet a few neighbors and others, we seem to be surrounded by good folks, so far.<br />
<br />
killed a few skunks, 4 legged kind..lol, we have plenty of deer, had about 5 last night bedding down right outside the outside the house, spotted them with my surefire.<br />
<br />
got a place picked out for a chicken coop, just need some plans, or idea's. garden will be going in soon , plus extra corn for the deer.<br />
<br />
anyway , it's time for me to get ready for work now.<br />
<br />
see ya'all at old as rocks place in may i hope<br />
<br />
Weps out!</div>

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			<dc:creator>weapons_762</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=146</guid>
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			<title><![CDATA[EGYPTIAN WALKING ONIONS, headstart on our tomatoes & etc...]]></title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=145</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 06 Apr 2008 00:16:25 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>At the end of last years typical gardening season, we just kept on gardening throughout all of WINTER! Yep, our first cheaply built greenhouse was...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><font color="olive">At the end of last years typical gardening season, we just kept on gardening throughout </font><font color="olive">all of WINTER! Yep, our first cheaply built greenhouse was soooooooooooo worth it as it kept us with lots of fresh healthful greens to eat all winter long.</font><br />
 <br />
<font size="4"><font color="olive"><b>***Refer to GREENHOUSE FOR UNDER $25 THREAD for more information***(BELOW LINKY)</b></font></font><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive"><a href="http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/showthread.php?t=7484" target="_blank"><font size="4"><font color="olive"><b>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/showthread.php?t=7484</b></font></font></a></font><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive">This year we have decided to try growing <b>"EGYPTIAN WALKING ONIONS"</b> as they are prolific &amp; multiply with bulbils instead of being like your typical biennial onion which gives seed every other year. Now we think that this type of onion would be a lot easier to multiply &amp; a perfect survival food to grow in the SURVIVALIST GARDEN! ; )</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive">Here's a neat photograph which I happened upon on-line and wanted to share.</font><br />
 <br />
<img src="http://z.about.com/d/gardening/1/0/5/8/OnionEgyptianWalking.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f"><b><font size="4">---------------------------------</font></b></font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
<br />
<DD class="post-body "><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<b><font size="4"><font color="#2f4f4f">/ ABOUT TOP SETTING ONIONS/EGYPTIAN WALKING ONIONS /</font></font></b><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Top-set onions, tree onions, or walking onions are various names used to describe a family of very hardy perennial, multiplying, top setting onions. They produce table ready green onions (scallions) from top or bottom sets. They produce small bulblets on the end of the stalks in the second year of the plant's growth. Some varieties produce a second clump of top-sets out of the first cluster of sets. This type is often referred to as a tree onion because of these branching characteristics. These could possibly be used in flower arrangements. As the weight of the bulbs increases the plant stalks fall to the ground, which may be as much as two feet from the parent plant.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The bulbs waste no time in putting down roots. This is why these varieties are sometimes referred to as a walking onion. If you do not want the plant to spread throughout your garden, the top-sets should be harvested. The flavor of these top-sets is somewhat spicy. They are delicious pickled. In</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">addition to producing top-sets, the parent plant divides at the base producing an abundant supply of green scallions for salads, gazpacho and other soups or casseroles. When harvesting, always be sure to leave at least one onion in the ground so the plant will continue to multiply and keep you</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">supplied with onions for a lifetime.</font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f"><font size="4"><b>/ History of the Onion /</b></font></font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onion was highly respected in the Ancient Egyptian civilization. Infact, the</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">well-known “Sham EL Neseem” festival, where fish and onions are eaten is the</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">celebration of the coming spring to the Egyptians.This custom of eating very</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">highly salted (rotten) fish, with massive quantities of onion and spring</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">onions certainly has carried on to our present day by the Egyptians.The</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">botanical name for onion is Allium Cepa. Its common name is garden onion.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Its arabic name is Basal. It is a plant in which we wonder where to place</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">it; with spices or with vegetables.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">For over 4000 years, Onions have been used for eating and for medical</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">purposes. It was cultviated by the Egyptians around 3200 BC but must have</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">been domesticated earlier, and is thought to have been derived from a wild</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">species found in the mountains of Central Asia. Egyptians numbered over</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">8000 onion-alleviated ailments. They were fed together with garlic to</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">workers building pyramids and were found in the tomb of King Tut.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The esteemed Greek physician Hippocrates prescribed Onions as a diuretic,</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">wound healer and pneumonia fighter.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onions are noted in the Bible as one of the foods most longed for by the</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Israelites after leaving Egypt for the Promised Land.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The HOLY QURAN narrates the story of the Israelites longing for Onions and</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">asking Moses to pray to GOD asking for onions and other plants. Moses told</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">them to “go down to Egypt”, where they can find all what they had longed</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">for, inspite they had much better food from God.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onions have been enjoyed by most cultures throughout history. Onions were</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">commonly grown in the Middle Ages throughout Europe. Christopher Columbus</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">brought Onions with him to the Americas. Their popularity quickly spread</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">among native American cultures.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">During World War II, Russian soldiers applied Onions to battle wounds as an</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">antiseptic. And throughout the Ages, there have been countless folk remedies</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">that have ascribed their curative powers to Onions, such as putting a sliced</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onion under your pillow to fight off insomnia.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The parts used are the bulb. The familiar and popular onion is a bulb of</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Allium cepa, a low growing plant. Botanists classify it in either the lily</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">family or the amaryllis family. Onions and shallots are closely related to</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">leeks, chives, garlic and Chinese chives. All these belong to the genus</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Allium and have the characteristic onion smell, caused by alkyl sulphides.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Fresh onions are pungent and have a sharp bite. Cooked onions lose this heat</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">and develop a rich sweetness. This sweet taste is mostly appreciated by</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">barbecuing onions on charcoal. They generally have a papery outer skin over</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">a fleshy, layered core.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">There are different types of onion (Allium cepa). Bulb onions Multiplier</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">onions Shallot (most of the types in the markets are Allium cepa) Potato</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">onion Tree onions or Egyptian onions.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Tree onions, also commonly called top onions or Egyptian onions, are a</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">strong-growing onion with a bunch of bulblets where a normal onion would</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">have flowers. In some varieties these bulblets will sprout and grow while</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">still on the original stalk, which may bend down under the weight of the new</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">growth, giving rise to the name, walking onion.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The constituents of onion contain only traces (0.01%) of essential oil,</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">which mostly consists of sulfur compounds. Onions contain two substances</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">that give them most of it beneficial properties: sulfur and quercetin - both</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">being strong antioxidants. They each have been shown to help neutralize the</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">free radicals in the body, and protect the membranes of the body's cells</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">from damage. Quercetin is also found in tea, but in much lower quantities.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Interestingly, white Onions contain very little quercetin, so it's better to</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">use the yellow and red varieties. One small onion cooked without salt</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">contains .8 grams protein and 1.3 grams of fiber. It also contains the</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">minerals Potassium , Phosphorus, Calcium ,Magnesium, Sodium and </font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Selenium.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Also contains small amounts of iron, manganese, copper and zinc.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onions have a very peculiar phenomenon, it makes you cry while cutting it.</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">This is caused by breaking the onion cells while slicing. Onion cells have</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">two sections, one with enzymes called allinases, the other with sulfides .</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The enzymes break down the sulfides and generate sulfenic acids. Sulfenic</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">acid is unstable and decomposes into a volatile gas called</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">syn-ropanethial-S-oxide. The gas then dissipates through the air and</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">eventually reaches the eye, where it will react with the water to form a</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">mild solution of sulfuric acid. The sulfuric acid irritates the nerve</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">endings in the eyes, making them sting. The tear glands then produce tears</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">in response to this irritation, to dilute and flush out the irritant.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Different species of onions will release different amounts of sulfenic</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">acids, thus some will cause more tear formation and irritation than others.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">The uses of onions are primarily in cooking, as it is the most abundant</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">ingredient in most dishes. However, there are some medicinal uses of onion.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f"><b><font size="4">/ Medicinal Uses /</font></b></font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onion is used as a diuretic, expectorant and antiseptic. Onions are highly</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">recommended for people trying to prevent cardiovascular disease, cancer, and</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">infections. They appear to be at least somewhat effective against colds,</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">heart disease, diabetes, and other diseases and contain antiinflammatory,</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">anticholesterol, and anticancer components.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">Onions contain many active compounds that appear to inhibit the growth of</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">cancerous cells, help combat heart disease, inhibit strokes, lower blood</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">pressure &amp; cholesterol, and stimulate the immune system. Alliums are also</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">antibacterial and anti-fungal, so they can relieve stomach upset &amp; other</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">gastrointestinal disorders. As with Garlic, Onions help prevent thrombosis</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">and reduce hypertension, according to the American Heart Association. The</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">natural constituents of yellow or white Onions can raise HDL cholesterol</font><br />
<font color="#2f4f4f">over time.</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#2f4f4f"><font size="4"><b>--------------------------------</b></font></font><br />
 <br />
<font size="3"><font color="olive">Here's some more info.:</font></font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egyptian_onion" target="_blank"><font size="3"><font color="olive"><b>http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egyptian_onion</b></font></font></a><br />
 <br />
<font color="olive">and a great source where we bought ours from (below) </font><br />
 <br />
<a href="http://www.organic-growers.com/bfarm/Plants/Egyptian_onions.htm" target="_blank"><b><font size="3"><font color="olive">http://www.organic-growers.com/bfarm/Plants/Egyptian_onions.htm</font></font></b></a><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">...btw, she's currently having a SALE!</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">Other than that, I've had a very nice day at home on the farm, working in the greenhouse &amp; etc. Sometime ago I started a bunch of tomato starts indoors near the southside window and they are getting HUGE!!!! Here's a photo to share of some of my smaller tomato plants. </font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000"><img src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/naturafarmoftheozarks/Garden%20Pics/Myselfwithtomatostarts003.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">Some already have "flowers" &amp; will be a great headstart in the garden.... can't wait to start eating fresh TOMATOS ~ YIPPEE!!!!</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">Have a beautiful day, wherever you are!</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">Sincerely,</font><br />
 <br />
<font color="#808000">~Wildernessgal~</font><br />
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
<br />
</DD></div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=145</guid>
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			<title><![CDATA[I am Legend... (aka "I am overly dependent on CGI")]]></title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=144</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 30 Mar 2008 02:05:33 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>Ok I watched I am Legend. What a disappointment. This movie could have been a classic. Will Smith was great, the story is a classic, the sets and...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>Ok I watched I am Legend. What a disappointment. This movie could have been a classic. Will Smith was great, the story is a classic, the sets and scenery were great... But then, like the worst scene of the Hulk ,CGI showed up to ruin the whole movie. (I mean the awful 2003 film version)<br />
 <br />
I knew it was going to be bad when the Lion King showed up... are there no real lions in the world with which they could have shot a similar scene? Ok, The CGI lions looked bad (I half expected Timone and Pumba to come out singing Hakuna Matata) But the Lion King cameo wasn't enough to kill it. <br />
 <br />
About halfway through the movie it felt like I was watching <i>Who Framed Roger Rabbit</i>. wtf? Is there a shortage of latex and make-up for extras in hollywood?, or was the world population in this movie decimated by the Toon Town Virus??? <br />
 <br />
One last rant... Did the Toon Town Virus also destroy the laws of physics? <br />
 <br />
So much potential in this movie, and they just had to blow it with CGI.</div>

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			<dc:creator>SeptemberMage</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=144</guid>
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			<title>SUBJECT: Archery / Primitive Archery Mag.</title>
			<link>http://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/blog.php?b=143</link>
			<pubDate>Fri, 21 Mar 2008 17:36:35 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[Back in 1979 I had my very first taste of archery & ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!!!!! :) 
  
Happened upon this site  
  
http://www.primitivearcher.com/ 
 ...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>Back in 1979 I had my very first taste of archery &amp; ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!!!!! :)<br />
 <br />
Happened upon this site <br />
 <br />
<a href="http://www.primitivearcher.com/" target="_blank">http://www.primitivearcher.com/</a><br />
 <br />
and thought I'd share with y'all.<br />
 <br />
Hubbie also has a catalog from the following website: <br />
 <br />
<a href="http://www.3riversarchery.com/primitivearchery.asp" target="_blank">http://www.3riversarchery.com/primitivearchery.asp</a><br />
 <br />
which is quite good.<br />
 <br />
Have a beautiful day... wherever you are!!!<br />
 <br />
Sincerely,<br />
 <br />
~Wildernessgal~</div>

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			<dc:creator>wildernessgal</dc:creator>
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