|Something that I always thought would be so easy
to write about has turned out to be much tougher than expected. Must
be because so many memories flood my mind that its become very difficult to
put them on paper in the proper sequence.
Well what the heck let's go back to the year I was born - 1932. I don`t remember a damn thing about it , except for the fact that I have to start this story somewhere in Creighton Mine because thats what this is all about.
My first recollection? School grade one, Mrs. Shannon, lovely person may the good Lord rest her soul. Then later on was formed the rhythm band, Art Chevier, Melvin Latvala, yours truly and a host of others - all excellent musicians and why not we were all maybe eight years of age ..
Creighton Mine was a wonderful place to be; the second world war was on the horizon but we weren't concerned because what did that mean to us , very little at that time , except to later realize that our older brothers and sisters were going to leave us and wear a uniform and maybe not come back!
First big lesson in this mixed up world - that all was not right . So how do your parents teach you to handle situations like this ? You learn to pray.
Oh yes Marty I remember those thrilling bright days over Mud Lake watching Curly Takala and Allan Mc Mahon performing aerial tricks with their Waco. Oh was that something !!
After my father tested the ice by chopping a hole with an axe , I was allowed to skate on Mud Lake. What a great day! But then as I got older I was able to go on the lake after dark. I will never forget that feeling , one winter no snow until Dec. the ice was like glass - so many fond memories.
Lets move on to good friends and nieghbors - to name a few; Jim Pentney; Roberta McCormick; Mike Gates; Barney Cain.
Those were days that flash through my mind as probably the best I ever knew , because life was an adventure to be enjoyed .The winter storms in our beloved town when you were awakened in early morning to help your father shovel out the driveway only to find the whole road was under four feet of snow . Then Dad had to walk to work; I remember watching Snob Hill under construction. Then came the club - my first days there as a pin boy in the bowling alley; when giants like Red Bruce and Harry Narasbeck threw balls that came at you like bolts of thunder and lightening and splattered pins all around you.
Then came teen night - was it Friday or Saturday? but whatever - you learned how to associate with the fairer sex. Especially when one of them had the patience to show you how to jive! Shirley C. always remembered.
From then on the days seemed to flow by so quickly, they had to be good in my mind because there are no bad memories of that time.
Lets go to that hair raising adventure when I asked Ray Suttari if I could drive his fathers car from the club to Dogpatch! Poor Ray said yes - we all piled in and I tramped on the gas , great fun until we came to the hairpin curve leaving Mud Lake. Well think about 70 miles per hour into a hairpin turn and you realize you are not in control!!! The steering has one and a half turns of play in it , only by the grace of God did some other poor soul not come around that corner at the same time because I was two wheels on the other edge of pavement than where I should have been.
From then on my life has been a merry -go- round of living and loving as some of you well know. I sincerely hope that all you lovely people out there have not been bored reading my humble narrative and guess what Marty? I know Cowboys real name! Also, Ritchey thank you for helping me put just a little of my early years in print .
I love you my friend