Endangered Species

They’re wantin’ to place coyote
On the endangered species list.
They’re hopin’ to get it done
Long before coyote’s missed.

They don’t want coyote cursed
Anymore or trapped or shot at
By the real endangered specie:
The one who wears a cowboy hat.

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Adventures at ‘Battlecry’

To be honest, I debated with myself as too whether I should post this blog: I am torn between my desire to be a Christ­ follower and my honest take on the situation outside AT&T Park, the home of the San Francisco Giants.   Part of me doesn’t want to be labeled  ‘hateful,’ because I’m commenting on what I observed.

This entire weekend has been dedicated to ‘Battlecry ‘ in San Francisco.

The event, which is a Christian get together was picketed by a number of people who included a couple of men, carrying a banner, crying out to the teenagers that they wanted to f*ck them . The men appeared to be homosexuals.

Then there was The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, men dressed in drag as “fake nuns,” their faces painted all-white, with feminine highlights. They made themselves known to the under aged group of kids, by calling to them with more dirty comments.

It is hard to remain in a Christian state-of-mind when something like this occurs. My instinct to protect the kids I was charged of, kicked in when I heard what they were yelling.

They were even accosted by a man on a bicycle claiming to be homeless. He yelled at the boys and girls, chastising them for having a “good time while I have to sleep out on the street.”

He got so close to the group that he nearly run over one of the kids. That’s when I had to tell him to “get lost.”

His response was that the “sidewalk was still free.” Had I been alone I’d have given him something for ‘free!”

Despite of all the protesting and other crap, we had a great time.

Two of Three

It was our eighth grade graduation. I was excited because it meant I’d be going ti high school and getting away from Mr. Fizer.

We were a fairly small class, 25 students total. Of that there were only eight boys so there was pretty good chance I’d walk alongside one of the girls.

I was right and it was Theresa Bostwick with whom I walk with that night.

When it came to confirmation into the Catholic Church, earlier that year we had decided between ourselves that we’d walk down together. Besides we were the only two Klamath kids in the group taking final lessons towards confirmation at the time.

Unfortunately, we weren’t able to walk down the aisle at our high school graduation together. That’s because school administrators had the ceremony set-up alphabetically and “B’s” didn’t mix with “D’s.”

 

Old Smoky

It was an all day excursion into the redwood forest. We were going to picnic, hike and enjoy the great outdoors.

It started off as a pleasant day, until someone stole Christine Meteor’s lunch. And even though I shared my lunch with her she wouldn’t stop crying.

She finally wore me out, so I decided to go for a hike along the banks of Mill Creek. That’s where I discovered several girls skinny-dipping.

Naturally I stopped to watch for a couple of minutes. That’s when I was surprised by Lori Stobert as she was also walking along the creek bank.

She alerted the girls who scrambled to cover themselves. I was busted and I had no place to go.

Within seconds another girl from my class, Patricia Bilderback climbed up on the bank and started dragging me towards the water. I managed to struggle free and run for my life.

I spent the rest of my time trying to avoid every one of my classmates because I didn’t want to be teased for having been caught staring and then running away from a girl.

Later on, I was seated across the school bus aisle from Christine, who was still very upset and still crying about her stolen lunch. As embarrassing as it was, I decided to sing “On Top of Old Smoky,” to her, hoping to settle her down.

And what do you know, it worked. Also, I decided that day — I like being in the woods by myself rather than with a whole bunch of people.

 

Like a Basketball

The team was getting ready for a road trip to Eureka for a track meet. And that’s why I was hanging around the gym entrance in the first place.

There were students coming and going as it was the start of class following lunchtime. One of those students was a freshman by the name of Bobby Doerner.

He was pretty good-sized guy, compared to me. But then I was fairly small in stature anyway, so most everyone looked bigger to me.

For whatever reason, Bobby decided he was going to pick on me. Without warning he grabbed me around my midsection, picked me up and tossed me across the gym floor.

I hit the wood basketball court, sliding on my belly, and ending up with raspberries on my knees and elbows.

Instantly, I was angry. I mean how could a freshman think he could do what he had jus’ done to senior and think he could get away with it?

Before he could react, I was all over him, punching and kicking. I was finally restrained by several of my team mates.

The funny thing afterward, all year-long Bobby had thought I was another freshman like himself. At the time it felt like pouring salt into a wound.

Years later Bobby and I ended up talking about that day. He apologized, I apologized and we had ourselves a pretty good laugh at our own expense.

 

Interference

I met Debbie Lohman during my first Friday night high school dance.

We connected instantly and I could hardly wait to see her again that following Monday at school. We became a couple shortly thereafter and we remained together for over a year.

However, Dad was not happy with the idea that I was going steady, saying I shouldn’t get myself tied down. For nearly two years I struggled against his push to have me break-up with Debbie.

Near the end of our junior year, I finally succumbed to his wishes and ended our relationship. I still feel like a creep for having allowed myself to hurting Debbie like I did.

Misidentification

It was somewhere around two in the morning when the telephone rang. There was a traffic accident jus’ south of the Del Norte County line and it would take us less time to get there than the closest unit out of Arcata.

Dad and I rolled up to see one body lying in the roadway. The person was alive and thrashing about.

We were told by a bystander who had come upon the accident that there was a car in the thick brush, over the embankment with a couple of people still inside. There was large burnt spot on a giant redwood tree that was still smoldering.

It was obvious that the vehicle had been traveling at a high rate of speed when it left the roadway and slammed into the tree. The person in the roadway was ejected from the car upon impact.

Dad directed me to start first aid on the person in the road. It turned out to be a teenage female.

Both of her feet were nearly amputated at the ankles. And while her bleeding was minimal, she was in severe pain and would not hold still.

The most I could do for her was to immobilize her ankles and get her off the cold asphalt. She also said she was pregnant and was worrying about her baby.

After splinting her ankles and feet, a woman passerby offered to stay with her so I could help Dad down the hill. In a rural setting like the one we were in, any sort of help is usually welcome.

Once at the car, I could see a male body in the front passenger side of the vehicle. It was obvious that from his injuries he was already dead.

In the back seat though, was another male. Dad was trying get the injured man to hold still, but he was having a difficult time.

He was alive and talking, but what he was saying made no sense. When asked how many people there were in the car, he gave conflicting amounts.

Obviously he had a severe head injury and needed medical attention quickly. This caused me to several minutes searching for others that may have been tossed from the car.

I didn’t find anyone else, fortunately.

Shortly thereafter an ambulance from Crescent City arrived. The two person crew along with Dad and I were able to secure the injured man and with a lot of effort get him up the hill and onto the highway.

With everyone but the dead man accounted for, we hurried to get the injured teen and the man loaded and en route to Seaside Hospital. That left the removal of the dead guy to Dad and me.

When we finally got him up and in an ambulance, I took a clear look at his face. He had no identification on his person — but I knew that I knew him.

A California Highway Patrol officer asked me if I knew who the dead man was. I answered, “A kid I go to school with by the name of Alan Wilson.”

However my identification would soon prove to be wrong as officers in Crescent City located Alan. Thankfully he was alive and well.

The following day a positive identification was made and it turned out to be Lesley McCovy. He had graduated the year before and was dating Kim McKail.

Years later, I was working part-time in a one-hour photo lab in Crescent City when Alan came in. He recalled the night the cops came to his parent’s door.

Luckily, Alan took what had happened as an everyday part of life. As for me, I never again made an on-the-scene identification of anyone, even if I knew darned well who it was.