History and Geography...

...which the schools years ago lumped together with civics and economics and called it "social studies."  The state of the world today is testimony to the outcome of that.  Perhaps.  Just a thought.

But that is not why I chose the title.  Rather, it has to do with this picture.  There will be a test.

Test

1.  Where was the picture taken?
2.  Within six years, when was the picture taken?  (Credit if you can name the decade.)
3.  Who is the individual in the picture?  (That's a gimme.)
4.  What would you call those trousers?  (If you didn't laugh out loud, you really didn't look.)

God's Rubble #T

Did I tell you about our trip to the mountains?  Oh, yeah, I recollect I was tellin’ you we were at th' Royal Gorge.  Well, sir, that same afternoon we drive on up to Cotopaxi, find a spot by the river ‘n pitch our tent.  Got the tackle out and flung our lines in th’ river.  We catch three nice rainbows, oh, ten, eleven inches. ‘Course I caught one an 'em, ‘n Grace, she caught two.  Always have to best me, thet woman.  Waal, they was mighty fine eatin’, cook as they were in the arn skillet we bring along.  Your Aunt Grace, she make some fry-bread to go along with, an’ a han’ful a coffee in th’ ol’ tin pot asittin’ on the farr.  Moughty fine.  Mought near as good a meal I ever eat.

Son, I tell ya, sleepin’ on the ground, nothin’ but a ol’ comforter underbeneath me is no way for a feller to treat his ol’ body.  Thet will not happen again, no matter what a hotel mought cost.  So I finely get upright in the mornin’ and got the ol’ bones to move on thoo the aches ‘n pains.  We get a good start, anyway, drive on up to Salida.  Pretty little town, tho’ I can’t fer the life a me see whut for people live up there.  Nice scenery, can’t eat it.

So we drive on up to Buena Vista, lovely scenery along the way, your Aunt Grace say.  Now we are up by the headwaters our Arkansas River, it come a bubblin’ down out the mountains.  We drive on up to Leadville, that little V-8 85 workin’ it’s heart out, but she don’t falter, no sir.  Now we drive thoo the barennest places I ever see, higher, higher, climb right to the top a th’ world.  Nothin’ness ever’where ya look.  Even Grace, who see beauty in ever’thing, say, “What do you suppose the Good Lord want with so much rocks and bare lan'?”

Waal, I fancy I know th' answer to thet.  I tell her, “Hon,” I say, “the Bible say God create ever’thin' in six days, an’ He rest on the seventh.  Now he mought nigh get done with his work, ‘n he see thet th’ sun have gone down, night acomin’ on.  So he have all this leftover scrap, ‘n he gotta dis-pose of it afore dark, so He tuk and dump it all out here in the middle a Colorado!”

“You ol’ fool,” say Grace.  “Well, no; maybe  you are right this time.  I sure see no use for all these rocks."

Waal, t’make a long story short, we go on into Leadville, try to visit one a them there mines, jes’ ta see what the fuss is all about.  Prollem is, catchin’ one’s breath up there is not all thet easy.  Like ta starve for air.  Grace, she suggest we stay in thet ol’ hotel over yonder, ‘n I say I druther die on the road then to hafta stay in this place another hour.  I’ma wantin’ home really bad.  So we get in the truck an’ head on out.  Darkness catch us just past Salida, but I’ma goin’ home.  Did her, too.  Find a station in Canon, fill ‘er up, ‘n drive on thoo the night.  We get home two o’clock in th’ mornin’ and if’n I never get out the county again in my lifetime, hit will be plenty soon enough.

© 2014 David W. Lacy  31

A Hole in the Ground

Did I ever tell you about the time we toured thoo the mountains?  Waal, the rains come in '39 'n by the fall of '40, harvest time, doncha know, things begin to turn around.  It seem time to get shed of th' ol' double A, 'n when I find ol' Hartmyer over to Syracuse have this nice '39 pickup he buy new, 'n now he want to sell hit, I have Gene take me on over to see hit.  Bought 'er, havin' survived the drought pretty good, still had a few pennies tuck away, an' now a bumper crop acomin' in.

Anyhow, Grace an' I decide to see a bit of the great State we live in.  Mostly we see nothin' but along the river atween here and Canon.  So we get the borry of Roper's tent--  you know Ephraim 'n Martha Roper.  They come over here fum Kentuck in '18 or '19, I think it was.  I know it was after th' war. They not kin to us, but Martha' mama grow up in the hills, was a friend of your Aunt Grace.  So then Grace 'n I, we get in the new truck, new to us, hit was, and head on west.  Nothin' much to stop for twel we get to Canon, on account we travel thet road many a time, 'n we wantin' to see the mountains!

Waal, we see the sweep of the San Juans to the south and are anxious to head on west into those mountains.  But first we treat ourselves to somethin' the like a which we have never done.  We check into th' St. Cloud Hotel.  Oh, my!  You shoulda seen thet place.  Chandeliers, the woodwork.  Shoulda eat in thet dinin' room; whut we did.  Venison prepare to tantalize yer memory ever after.

Middle th' night, though, Grace say she hear a strange noise, open the door and look down the hall.  There was a little girl, six, seven year ol', bouncin' a ball agin the wall.  She tell me, "This make no sense, three o'clock of a mornin', so I walk down to tell her she ought not be doin' thet, an when I get five, six steps from her, she jus' disappear!  No girl, no ball.  Ever'thing quiet as a tomb."  Waal, Grace, she not as young as she used to be, and, well, you know.*

Next mornin' we drive on past the penitentiary.  Even plumb out to Holly people hear tales about thet place, the whippin's an' 'specially the gas chamber.  Now we drive right on by.  No stoppin' there for us, no sir.  But on'y yet a couple more mile up the road we come to a turnoff for Skyline Drive.  Waal, why not?  I can now tell ya why not.  One way road, scarce wider than the tread th' truck, twists an' switchbacks, white-knuckle, I was, afore th' road dump us back into Canon.  Then we have to find our way back ta th' highway, and go right past the Pen and the Skyline turnoff again afore we drive on up to th' Royal Gorge.

I hear about this Royal Gorge fer years.  Now thet we are there, I will say thet is some hole in the ground.  Guy up there tell us, "Way back, hunnert years agone, a Scotsman visit this country, sightseein' hereabouts.  Standin' right on this very spot, he accidental drop a penny in a little crevice, start diggin' fer it.  An' here you see the mighty hole he dig afore he find thet penny."

Waal, our trip jes' gettin' started, but we got work to do.

"Uncle," I said.  "Go on with the story.  There shall always be work."

"You tried thet afore.  Now get up offa yer haunches."


*I heard years after Uncle told me this story that many people have seen the little girl with her ball.

© 2014 David W. Lacy