Posts tagged Camping

Memorial Day 2010

Memorial Day at Eagle Point Cemetery

I called him Gramps, he called me Stubs. Born in Long Creek, Oregon in 1915, Gramps was a kind, soft spoken man of few words. Grandpa was a native Oregonian, served in World War II, married my grandma, had three wonderful children, joined the FAA and was grandfather to three spoiled grandkids.

Grandpa and his twin Maurice

Master-Sergeant Mervin C. Conger was the radio chief of the 414th Night Fighter Squadron, serving with the 22nd Tactical Air Command of the 12th Air Force, which furnished the air support for the Fifth Army in the victorious northern Italy Campaign.

In 1942, Gramps married Helen M. Hull during a leave from the service. After the war, Grandpa joined the reserves and held various jobs until joining the FAA. He stared his career as an Air Traffic Controller in  Alaska and a few months later the whole family moved up with him. By know there were three children. His career in the FAA, took him from Anchorage, Alaska to the San Francisco International Airport to and later to the Lake Tahoe Airport where he eventually retired. I remember vividly, Grandpa got word that Sammy Davis Jr. was flying in to Tahoe. The entire family got dressed up to the nines and met Grandpa at work. We got to see Sammy and he patted me on the head.

Gramps and Grams

Grams and Gramps ready for a hot date

Not one to retire for too long, Gramps and Grams eventually moved to Netarts Bay and managed an R.V. park and marina. Those were the times I remember the most. We always had so much fun visiting at the coast. Grandpa always took us crabbing and clamming and fishing. Lots of parties and happiness. After they finally retired from the park, they bought a home with a view of the bay and the park they loved. Eventually, my wonderful grandma passed away at their last stop together near the bay. Shortly after, we moved Grandpa to Grants Pass, where he lived with his youngest daughter who took care of him until he passed in 1996.

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To Camp or not to Camp, Part 2

Rise oh mighty fire...RISE!

My darling husband makes for such a good subject. Thankfully he takes it well, mostly cause he knows it’s true. One day while he was sick in bed with a horrible migraine headache, a few silly poems popped in my . Yes, I kicked my man when he was down, however once again, anyone who knows my dearest, knows that this is a 100% Dimples all the way.  Last week I bought you “Husband Poetry“, this week, I bring you “Husband Haiku”. A compilation of two forms  of Haiku poetry (very loosely based of course). Traditional style Haiku and Tanka poetry.

 

Haiku  (5-7-5 onji format)

Camping Part Duex ~

wood is smoldering

my fire skills inadequate

wife starts huge bonfire

Tanka (5-7-5-7-7 onji format)

Veggie Pants ~

dirty pants on floor

a science experiment

how long will they stay

two month later pants grow mold

four months and have fresh mushrooms

In your Face ~

put leftovers in fridge

let husband know for lunches

husband dies of hunger pains

can’t see leftovers at eye level

Baby, it’s cold out there~

forgot the jacket

doesn’t like to be mothered

it’s freezing cold out

pouts that I forgot jacket

calls mother to whine

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To Camp or not to Camp, oh why do I do this to myself!

Standard issue camping attire

Ah, Dimples. I gotta love him. First, I taught him how to fish, which turned into near disaster. Then we went camping. I’m a glutton for punishment. This poem came to my brain as I was tossing and turning in a thin sleeping bag, whilst Dimples was snoring comfortably with ALL the extra blankets. Anyone who knows my dearest husband, knows that this poem is a 100% representation of his bad self.

Husband, Oh Hus-band
Hus-band

Totally out of his safety zone
Longing for the comfort of his sterile home

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Not one to mess with Na-ture
Can’t even start a Fi-re

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Thinking fondly of computer programm-ing
And staying up late World of Warcraft-ing

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Scared of buzzing insects always bit-ing
Protecting food and drink with lots of nett-ing

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Nowhere to “go” but in the sticky brush
Wishing there was a place to sit and flush

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Face full of pain and very concentrate-ed
It’s been five long days since he has poop-ed

Husband, Oh Hus-band

Hus-band

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