Rodney was on the phone the next couple of days,
It was do or die on the "big fake" as it was now called.
He spoke to Josh, who said it was, in the bag, and he could
get the keys off the hook without being detected.
He spoke to Travis who had made off with a bunch of sweet corn
and tomatos from the garden.
He talked to Ton and Tank, their mom and dad were leaving that
week on a fishing trip in Minnesota.
He talked to Brian, who had got a bunch of canned food
from their basment.
Even the doubting Brent, managed to come up with a bunch of food
and camping gear. He seemed up beat and looking forward to escape.
He called Melody told her to let Roxanne and Roberta know about the fake camp,
and asked her brother to help with the clip board
check-off as they boarded the bus. At first Chris was reluctant to
help until Rodney offered him 5$, "Now are you guys really taking the bus"?
"No, we're pretending to go to camp". " What if your folks don't leave, when
the driver doesn't show"? " You need to convince them that it's okay", Rodney added
After 10 min of going over the plan Chris agreed to do it as long as he wouldn't get into trouble.
Everything was set for Monday afternoon. The boys made a cardboard sign that said
Camp Wannamaka, for the bus window.
Rodney started packing his duffle bag, when it hit him to back up his plan with one more
thing. He went over to Lenny's house, " Lenny I got a favor to ask can you help us"?
The story of what they planned went into detail with the occasional " I see"
and "you did what" from Lenny and finally a " You are something of rebel Rodney
I 'll be glad to help you guys out".
Rodney started to go, when Lenny said", Did you read the paper,
the bottles go up next week, August 1st".
Rodney turned," Don't mess with me, really"?
"I told you not to doubt me little brother", Lenny smiled
"I'll be at the bait shop monday, if you need me."
It was at that point Rodney started to feel confident about
the gang really pulling it off. Everything they had done that summer
to get bikes, to make friends, to plan camp, to build a raft and
take the risk with the church bus.
Rodney was talking with his mom that night,
"Did you pack socks and plenty of underwear"?
" Yes mom, stop worrying," Rodney said
" We're picking up Travis, tomorrow, ok ?", Rodney added.
"Oh, sure, Rodney, I know what you're up to".
Rodney gulped hard, "What do you mean"?
" Growing up without telling me", his mom smiled.
" Oh that!!", Rodney said, "I'll be 13 next week."
"We'll have to celebrate when you get back from camp",
"Sure, rootbeer and fries at the drive-in", Rodney smiled.
" That would be great, better get some sleep tomorrows a big
day", His mom said as she sent him off to bed.
She sat at the table thinking of Rodney off at camp and growing up
and how she needed to grow up too. "Damn it, I'm going to do it,
while he's gone", she said to herself.
Stay tuned in It's going to get good......
Lost is the soul of a boatless man
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Summer Reads
I am currently 1/2 way through
Jack Kerouac's On the Road.
I picked this out of Brilliant Books
while on vacation in Michigan.
Fully intended on reading it on the boat,
but duties at the helm kept me from it.
So arriving home picked it up and put it down.
grasping it for escape mostly. So much of my head
is on rent to my construction job, I wonder if I can ever
be able to separate the two?
At first I wanted to dismiss Kerouac as a Hippie before his time,
Travelling, bumming money from his aunt, drinking, partying,
and digging the scene. Until I read this;
"We pondered it. I proposed it was myself, wearing the shroud.
That wasn't it. Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us
across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached
heaven. Naturally I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake
us before heaven.The one thing we yearn for in our living days, that makes us
sigh and groan and undergo sweet nausea's of all kinds, is the remembrance of
some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and only be reproduced
( though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die?" Jack Kerouac
This made me understand a deeper Jack, possibly a deeper me.
I read on. For a novel written in 3 weeks it reveals a lot about the human soul.
Thumbs up perhaps, thought provoking, for sure.
It makes me consider a sailing adventure travel book even if it finds me
down to my last dollar. Like Kerouac I often find myself on the precipice
of the last dollar and the next swinging bar to grasp. I'm just grounded here
not enjoying the beat. Duggan.
Jack Kerouac's On the Road.
I picked this out of Brilliant Books
while on vacation in Michigan.
Fully intended on reading it on the boat,
but duties at the helm kept me from it.
So arriving home picked it up and put it down.
grasping it for escape mostly. So much of my head
is on rent to my construction job, I wonder if I can ever
be able to separate the two?
At first I wanted to dismiss Kerouac as a Hippie before his time,
Travelling, bumming money from his aunt, drinking, partying,
and digging the scene. Until I read this;
"We pondered it. I proposed it was myself, wearing the shroud.
That wasn't it. Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us
across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached
heaven. Naturally I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake
us before heaven.The one thing we yearn for in our living days, that makes us
sigh and groan and undergo sweet nausea's of all kinds, is the remembrance of
some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and only be reproduced
( though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die?" Jack Kerouac
This made me understand a deeper Jack, possibly a deeper me.
I read on. For a novel written in 3 weeks it reveals a lot about the human soul.
Thumbs up perhaps, thought provoking, for sure.
It makes me consider a sailing adventure travel book even if it finds me
down to my last dollar. Like Kerouac I often find myself on the precipice
of the last dollar and the next swinging bar to grasp. I'm just grounded here
not enjoying the beat. Duggan.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Grandmas Stove
Onion Pie
This savory pie is easy and sooo good year round.
1/4 cup of butter
1 cup saltines about one sleeve crushed
2 cups sweet onion sliced thin (one large)
2 eggs slightly beaten
3/4 cup of milk
1/2 cup grated cheese (4 cheese Italian Blend)
Mix cracker crumb and butter and press into 9 in. pie plate
for crust.
Combine sliced onions and milk, egg mixture, place in pie shell
sprinkle cheese over top.
Bake 350* for 30-35 min. or until knife comes out clean.
This savory pie is easy and sooo good year round.
1/4 cup of butter
1 cup saltines about one sleeve crushed
2 cups sweet onion sliced thin (one large)
2 eggs slightly beaten
3/4 cup of milk
1/2 cup grated cheese (4 cheese Italian Blend)
Mix cracker crumb and butter and press into 9 in. pie plate
for crust.
Combine sliced onions and milk, egg mixture, place in pie shell
sprinkle cheese over top.
Bake 350* for 30-35 min. or until knife comes out clean.
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Soda Bottle Kid
Wednesday proved to be just as hot.
Rodney couldn't remember it being so hot,
The mowing was on hold, because nothing would grow in the heat.
The days were filled with long bike rides and swims in the creek.
All the boys meeting up with one another at the camp.
They would work at the raft or bring in more bottles.
The big gain in bottles was from the 4th of July picnic in town when the set up barrels
for collection. Donate to the Boys Club the crude banner said, And so many had filled
the barrels at the ball diamond. And at the fireworks display next to the racetrack.
Nearly 75 cases. Rodney knew they were close to their July goal but thought about the
needs of Camp Wannamaka.
Friday came and it seemed right for a party at Ton an Tanks, Rodney passed the word
and all were coming to meet.
The meeting began with the usual meeting, a count of bottles, a report of repairs of the
boat, and a report of the raft progress.
All the boys had done their jobs and it seemed that all was in order.
" I need a crew tomorrow to help paint Pat Dooleys shed.",
The gang all stood in silence. " You got to be kidding me", Brian said.
Rodney said , " No, we all have to have our shit in order for the week at camp.
The Dooley shed bottles is our camp money."
"We have enough bottles to keep us on track to get bikes,
but nothing for the food at camp.", Rodney looked at everyone like this
was all preordained. "Can you all start taking food from home to help?"
"Have you thought of how we will bring this off?"
The boys started to chatter amongst themselves. The talk was of camp
and getting caught, it was of how much the could get away with
from the garden and pantry. But most of all it was about going through with
the whole plan of it, the bus the fake, the 10 days away from home on their own.
Pat Dooley's shed:;
Saturday brought the gang together they all gathered around while Pat
told them the fine art of painting with Linseed oil paint.
It began with a thinned pail of 1 gallon of paint and a quart of thinner.
the end was not so predictable. As the heat grew the paint had to be thinned
more. One of the boys decided to pour the paint from the top as the others,
brushed furiously to coat the boards as the icecream like paint cooked in the July sun.
" There's no more thinner", Ton said. " Look in the shed", Rodney commanded.
" I found a quart jar, it smells like thinner".Tank reported. " Ok pour it in a gallon"
Rodney said. The heat poured on the boys as they finished wiping all the thick runs
of paint over and over to get a smooth coat.
Pat emerged from the run down house to inspect the work.
The boys stood with smiles and a speckled coat of linseed oil paint from head to PF flyer.
It's a good job boys, it's got a bright glow.
" We ran out of turpintine but we found more in the shed.", Ton said.
Dooley turned pale, "What ?, Where?, " What did you use boy?"
"The, the, turpintine in the quart jars," Ton said slowly.
The blood ran away from Dooleys face, and then returned red as ever!
" You damned fools that was whiskey from my fathers home in Ireland!!
The last of me only family heirloom!, I'll beat the livin' tar out of all of ya'!
Pat Dooley started swinging wildly with his cane and the boys scattered to avoid
being caned. " Shit, let's get outta here", Ton screamed.
All the boys jumped their bikes and rode off as Dooley cursed them.
When they got back to T n Ts they all were wide eyed.
" What the hell just happened?" " I think we pissed him off",
"Duh, You mixed his whiskey with the paint", Josh said, " You're lucky
he didn't kill us."
" My Grandpa drinks whiskey and he would jump from his skin if
you did that." Josh seemed to know about this .
The rest of us talked about gettin the bottles and revenge, Josh said,
"We can get them, but when, he said, it was cool. I didn't ask why or when ,
I just knew that Josh knew.
That night we got screwed, but I knew it would work out.
Tune in next week.
Rodney couldn't remember it being so hot,
The mowing was on hold, because nothing would grow in the heat.
The days were filled with long bike rides and swims in the creek.
All the boys meeting up with one another at the camp.
They would work at the raft or bring in more bottles.
The big gain in bottles was from the 4th of July picnic in town when the set up barrels
for collection. Donate to the Boys Club the crude banner said, And so many had filled
the barrels at the ball diamond. And at the fireworks display next to the racetrack.
Nearly 75 cases. Rodney knew they were close to their July goal but thought about the
needs of Camp Wannamaka.
Friday came and it seemed right for a party at Ton an Tanks, Rodney passed the word
and all were coming to meet.
The meeting began with the usual meeting, a count of bottles, a report of repairs of the
boat, and a report of the raft progress.
All the boys had done their jobs and it seemed that all was in order.
" I need a crew tomorrow to help paint Pat Dooleys shed.",
The gang all stood in silence. " You got to be kidding me", Brian said.
Rodney said , " No, we all have to have our shit in order for the week at camp.
The Dooley shed bottles is our camp money."
"We have enough bottles to keep us on track to get bikes,
but nothing for the food at camp.", Rodney looked at everyone like this
was all preordained. "Can you all start taking food from home to help?"
"Have you thought of how we will bring this off?"
The boys started to chatter amongst themselves. The talk was of camp
and getting caught, it was of how much the could get away with
from the garden and pantry. But most of all it was about going through with
the whole plan of it, the bus the fake, the 10 days away from home on their own.
Pat Dooley's shed:;
Saturday brought the gang together they all gathered around while Pat
told them the fine art of painting with Linseed oil paint.
It began with a thinned pail of 1 gallon of paint and a quart of thinner.
the end was not so predictable. As the heat grew the paint had to be thinned
more. One of the boys decided to pour the paint from the top as the others,
brushed furiously to coat the boards as the icecream like paint cooked in the July sun.
" There's no more thinner", Ton said. " Look in the shed", Rodney commanded.
" I found a quart jar, it smells like thinner".Tank reported. " Ok pour it in a gallon"
Rodney said. The heat poured on the boys as they finished wiping all the thick runs
of paint over and over to get a smooth coat.
Pat emerged from the run down house to inspect the work.
The boys stood with smiles and a speckled coat of linseed oil paint from head to PF flyer.
It's a good job boys, it's got a bright glow.
" We ran out of turpintine but we found more in the shed.", Ton said.
Dooley turned pale, "What ?, Where?, " What did you use boy?"
"The, the, turpintine in the quart jars," Ton said slowly.
The blood ran away from Dooleys face, and then returned red as ever!
" You damned fools that was whiskey from my fathers home in Ireland!!
The last of me only family heirloom!, I'll beat the livin' tar out of all of ya'!
Pat Dooley started swinging wildly with his cane and the boys scattered to avoid
being caned. " Shit, let's get outta here", Ton screamed.
All the boys jumped their bikes and rode off as Dooley cursed them.
When they got back to T n Ts they all were wide eyed.
" What the hell just happened?" " I think we pissed him off",
"Duh, You mixed his whiskey with the paint", Josh said, " You're lucky
he didn't kill us."
" My Grandpa drinks whiskey and he would jump from his skin if
you did that." Josh seemed to know about this .
The rest of us talked about gettin the bottles and revenge, Josh said,
"We can get them, but when, he said, it was cool. I didn't ask why or when ,
I just knew that Josh knew.
That night we got screwed, but I knew it would work out.
Tune in next week.
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