Heading out of Billings in Leonard's Suburban. His brother Jimmy is riding shotgun. Their sister Bernie riding in the middle row along with my brother Bill. Uncle Scott, Bernie's husband, were riding in the waaaaaaaaaaaaay back.
My brother Bill. He's not fat. Just short for his weight. Hard to believe we used to pass as twins. He thinks that eating chicken is healthier than beef. He may be right but that doesn't mean that you can eat twice as much. I can make fun of him all I want here on my blog. There isn't a goddamn thing you can do about it Sluggo. Hey why don't you call me up and ask me if I need anymore 34 inch wasted pants that you outgrew. That was funny as hell. Bill "Do you need and 34 inch pants?" Me "Who the hells pants you trying to give away?" Bill "Mine" Me "BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. THIRTY-FOURS? NO SHIT? BWHAHAHAHAHA" Good times
The Milk River Valley in all of its splendor. During the last ice age about 18,000 years ago the Missouri River was located where the current Milk River is. The glaciers pushed the Mighty Mo to its present location and when it receded the Milk was formed. You could call it the Tigress of northern Montana. Yes, that is a great description.
Laura and Nancy. From the class of 1984. Street dancing. Hmmmm. The last time I saw either of them was in an eerily similar situation over 20 years ago. The more things change the more they stay the same. It was dejavu all over again. Oh by the way girls. You still look pretty good.
The picket fence my dad built in 1968. That was the year we bought the big white house on 4th Avenue. The high school kids would cut through the yard on their way to Buttreys Grocery and had a path worn down. My old man put up the fence and "whalah" no more cutters. This is about 1:30 in the morning as I walked to my brother Pat's house. A long walk. Better picture of the house on tomorrow's post.
The last house my dad lived in. Keep the cribbage board close Pop but don't get in a hurry to play me again. Its gonna be a while yet.
Trafton Park. Sight of one of the greatest pranks ever. Back in the days of when being a juvenile delinquent meant throwing snowballs at cars and not burning down your school, Delmer and Ralph pulled a good one. Some guy was camping in Trafton in a camper you slide into the back of a pickup. It was a little camper, one where you could shut the end-gate of the pickup behind the camper door. Well, Delmer and Ralph found a bucket, went down to the Milk and filled it with water. Then they threw the water through the screen door of the camper and slammed the end-gate shut so the guy couldn't get out. This all happened about midnight. Shame on both of them. I wasn't there and had no part in this. That doesn't mean I wouldn't have been a willing participant.
The old bridge over the Milk.
The VFW Club. This is where the all-class cribbage tournament was going to be held. I went to register but they could tell I was a ringer so I was barred from competing. Well that and the fact I didn't want to spend $15 on the entrance fee.
The view of front street as seen from the VFW Club. Getting ready for the afternoon festivities.
The old Carnegie Library. Can you imagine if someone attempted to do something like this now? The red tape they would have to go through to try to enhance a community with their own money? Wouldn't happen. Not unless the unions and politicians had their palms greased first.
This is Shoey's house and the first tree I ever climbed as a kid. Shoey and I packed his cat up with us and dropped it in a mud puddle. Shoey got in big trouble for that. It was the start of a great friendship for Shoe and I. Me coming up with great ideas, him getting in trouble when we did them. Sigh.
Laura and Nancy. From the class of 1984. Street dancing. Hmmmm. The last time I saw either of them was in an eerily similar situation over 20 years ago. The more things change the more they stay the same. It was dejavu all over again. Oh by the way girls. You still look pretty good.
The picket fence my dad built in 1968. That was the year we bought the big white house on 4th Avenue. The high school kids would cut through the yard on their way to Buttreys Grocery and had a path worn down. My old man put up the fence and "whalah" no more cutters. This is about 1:30 in the morning as I walked to my brother Pat's house. A long walk. Better picture of the house on tomorrow's post.
The last house my dad lived in. Keep the cribbage board close Pop but don't get in a hurry to play me again. Its gonna be a while yet.
Trafton Park. Sight of one of the greatest pranks ever. Back in the days of when being a juvenile delinquent meant throwing snowballs at cars and not burning down your school, Delmer and Ralph pulled a good one. Some guy was camping in Trafton in a camper you slide into the back of a pickup. It was a little camper, one where you could shut the end-gate of the pickup behind the camper door. Well, Delmer and Ralph found a bucket, went down to the Milk and filled it with water. Then they threw the water through the screen door of the camper and slammed the end-gate shut so the guy couldn't get out. This all happened about midnight. Shame on both of them. I wasn't there and had no part in this. That doesn't mean I wouldn't have been a willing participant.
The old bridge over the Milk.
The VFW Club. This is where the all-class cribbage tournament was going to be held. I went to register but they could tell I was a ringer so I was barred from competing. Well that and the fact I didn't want to spend $15 on the entrance fee.
The view of front street as seen from the VFW Club. Getting ready for the afternoon festivities.
The old Carnegie Library. Can you imagine if someone attempted to do something like this now? The red tape they would have to go through to try to enhance a community with their own money? Wouldn't happen. Not unless the unions and politicians had their palms greased first.
This is Shoey's house and the first tree I ever climbed as a kid. Shoey and I packed his cat up with us and dropped it in a mud puddle. Shoey got in big trouble for that. It was the start of a great friendship for Shoe and I. Me coming up with great ideas, him getting in trouble when we did them. Sigh.
You always keep a sled handy when you live in Montana. Hell, I just put up my snow shovel three weeks ago and will probably need it in September.
Well, that was Friday night through about noon Saturday. Stay tuned for a tour of the high school, the Saturday night street dance, breakfast at Mom's and much, much more.
Well, that was Friday night through about noon Saturday. Stay tuned for a tour of the high school, the Saturday night street dance, breakfast at Mom's and much, much more.
7 comments:
Milky, what a great road trip! I love your narration too. That prank in the park is classic, along with your first *tree*! Yes, I think Montana could be very Okie-ish, except for all that snow and mountains. Wait a minute .. what's this about an ice age changing the course of the river? Could that have been a natural global warming/cooling event? Whatever did nature do before politics entered the picture?
What? No picture of the old homestead by Ken's or whatever it is called now.
I don't think is has been painted in the forty years since we moved.
Pam, that is always my response to the global warming crowd.
LP, if you were a regular reader you would have seen the old homestead by Ken's when I went home to see your mother on Mother's Day. BTW,how did you like the message Snyder left ya? Used more minutes having your friends call you and Scooch then I did the rest of the weekend.
Milky! This is a wonderful photoblog. I always enjoy your commentary. I literally laugh out loud every time. Your home town sure could pass for a town here. It sure looks like you had a blast, and even more fun that you got to do it with your family! But you've been missed in bloggerville. Glad you're back and can't wait to see the next in this series of posts!
Class reunion dues
gladly paid to walk the path
back to cherished past.
Oh, snap! I had that picture in my head, but thought I was having a flashback.
At one point, that house held the folks, 4 kids under the age of 10, one pregnant aunt who gave birth to twins and then lived there a couple of months while her husband was deployed.
Also, it is where Scooch fell off the porch and broke both her arms.
And thirty or so kids ruled the block.
Correction oh sister of mine. Scooch broke both of her arms at Grandpa's tripping on his brand new driveway while chasing me after be hit by a deluge of water balloons. I'm the one who broke the arm trying to crawl on the roof with Delmer. Blamed Bill and didn't tell Mom the truth until I graduated from college. Good times.
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