Category: random

Like I need another problem — worse yet — like I need another repair bill, but my truck refuses to go into gear.  It worked jus’ fine earlier in the day, but as I went out to head to work at 11 pm, the stick-shifter wouldn’t go into reverse or even first gears.

Fortunately, our house-mate, Kay is still on vacation and told me to take her car since she wouldn’t need it for work. I managed to get to the station in time for shift-change, but I’m still puzzled about what caused this to happen.

Worse yet, I’m no mechanic and I’ve got to have the damned thing towed to town. I’m at least 15 miles from the nearest service station, so it’s going to cost me a pretty penny.

I really shouldn’t complain because this is the first serious problem I’ve had with my truck in the 12 years I’ve had it.

While the inconvienence has me a little more than pissed off, there’s no sense in worrying about it. What has to be done, has to be done. I am trying to find the humor in this whole situation, but it hasn’t come to me yet.

Maybe in a day or two I’ll be laughing about it or maybe not…

The running joke has always been tanned fat is better than white fat. With that in mind, I pulled off my shirt as I mowed the backyard.

Soon I was joined by our house-mate, Kay Casti. She had decided to grab a rake and gather some of the clippings into a pile and enjoy the sunshine too.

Meanwhile, I continued to push the mower back and forth.

The next time I looked up, Kay was topless. I was surprised at this otherwise modest grandma for allowing herself to be seen half-naked.

She looked at me and started laughing. But the look on my face must have said something different, so she turned around.

Jus’ over the fence was the house painter hired by our neighbors. He was standing on a tall ladder alongside the house, looking in our direction.

Kay’s scream could be heard over the roar of the lawn mower.

Juanita Larson passed away at her home on May 3, 2008 from cancer.  She was born April 9, 1933 in Ackerman, Miss., to Luther and Pearl Spurgeon.

Juanita, or Mrs. Larson as she was better known to me, was an artist who lived and raised her family in Klamath. She was married to Alvin Larson and together, they owned and operated Requa Boat Dock and Klamath Jet Boat Kruises for nearly 30 years.

Their son,  Jon and I went to Margaret Keating School together. We eventually graduated from Del Norte High in 1978.

Four years earlier, I was busy helping with the writing and editing of our eighth grade classes yearbook. It was a simple booklet, filled with pictures and the standard juvenile fare, photocopied and stapled between two heavier pieces of paper.

What makes this yearbook special is the fact that Jon was able to talk his mother into creating the cover art for both the front and back of the booklet. Without her help, the yearbook would have looked rather bland. 

On the front, she drew a cluster of Serviceberries, which is indigenious to Del Norte. On the back—what else—a Golden Bear, the schools’ mascot. She even figured out a way to incorporate our class-motto, Being Closer Together,” into the artwork.

In the end, Mrs. Larson created something very personal and worth treasuring.

Kyle and I went and saw the new movie: “Toy Story 3.” While its a great 3-D movie, I wouldn’t recommend it for any parent suffering from the saddness brought on by a child becoming an adult and I’m still not over the way its affected me.

Funny thing is — I can’t really recall the movie in total as I was too busy wiping my eyes and nose.

The night before it had rained and the temperature was a wet 46-degrees. That led police to believe they had another case of death by exposure. It had happened twice before in the last three years at the homeless encampment.

At first investigators held what information they had close to their vest. They told reporters to for the local newspaper the homeless woman had been found inside her tent, fully clothed.

Within three days that would change.

Not only would the county medical examiner find an extreme amount of bruising, the doctor also discovered she had been sexually assaulted and this may have contributed to her death. Police would also make an arrest in the case.

Sheryl Sanders-Dickson’s rib-cage showed signs of trauma, leading investigators to conclude she was tortured by way of heavy compression. She also suffered a punctured lung, though authorities have not yet concluded how this puncture happened.

With the new disclosures being made in Sheryl’s death, investigators were forced to release information contradicting what had been reported previously. Her partially clothed body was found hidden under a sleeping bag, and it was evident she had been attacked while unconscious.

Authorities now say that the brutalization of Sheryl was of such a massive nature that no-one would have willingly submitted themselves to such treatment. Toxicology reports are pending, though officials say the outcome doesn’t appear to be a contributing factor to her death, other than leaving her unable to defend herself.

Sheryl lived behind the Safeway Store along with other homeless people, all doing their best to survive. Also living at the same encampment was a transient by the name of Robert Randolph.

Randolph is known to the local law enforcement community. Four years earlier Randolph was found not guilty of second-degree murder.

The 47-year-old man was accused of body-checking John Waid the year before. Waid fell, hit his head and died eight days later.

Randolph has been charged with first-degree burglary, rape, sexual penetration with a foreign object and sodomy with a foreign object. He has not been charged with Sheryl’s murder.

Sheryl was a naturally beautiful woman, who had fallen on hard times. Her friends and family regarded her as good-natured and always happy, willing to help out another person when she had so little herself.

Sheryl was a graduate of Del Norte High School, class of 1978. She was only 50 years old.

Several bunches of flowers now grace the camp site where she died so violently.

Yes, I’m angry. And no, I’m will not apologize for it.

It really ticks me off to find myself cut off from all the major roadways in or out of my neighborhood because of road construction. This isn’t the first time this has happened either.

To make things worse, some guy in a state truck yells at me because I wanted to pull out on to the street, in order to head for town. I went ahead anyway since he didn’t have a uniform on or appear to be wearing a gun on his hip.

Guess he thinks he can get away with it because he’s managed to bluff other, more-compliant drives before he started shouting at me. He’s lucky I didn’t run his a$$ over as he tried to stop me from going.

I’d have hated to damage my truck like that.

Traffic is generally snarled along U.S. 395 around quitting time in Nevada’s capitol city. So I decided to try avoiding the mess by cutting down a couple back streets.

As I sat stopped at a traffic light, I saw this guy come running towards my car. The passenger side door was unlocked for some stupid reason and he climbed in without asking.

More shocked than scared, I asked him, ” What are you doing?!”

“Shut up and drive,” was his response. He added, “I’ve got a gun.”

Then the guy looked over his right shoulder as if expecting to see someone or something. I took the opportunity to pull out my lock-blade knife and open it with a loud click.

“You picked the wrong guy to screw with,” I told him.

He looked at me with surprise. Then he reminded me, “I told you I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it!”

My response was simple: “I already have this knife here and you don’t have your gun ready.” Then I added, “And I’m not afraid to use it either.”

He looked at my right hand, realizing the point of the blade was nearly touching left his rib cage. He blinked twice and jumped from my car.

While he was willing to threaten someone, thankfully he wasn’t willing to die backing up that threat.

What a crazy day. I promised Kyle that I’d pay for a tattoo for his birthday today. I didn’t call to make an appointment as I figured Reno is a 24-hour town.

Guess I should have since most tattoo shops in Reno-town don’t open until noon. Furthermore, none take appointments any earlier than 1 p.m.

Yeah, I know some will ask: How could you let him do that?

My response: He’s eighteen now and old enough to decide, especially since it’s something he’s talked about doing since the age of 12.

Besides, how many of us can truly remember our 18th birthday, let alone what we got as a gift? I don’t recall and I suspect that you might not remember either.

I think Kyle will remember his 18th birthday for years and years to come.

It took the artist nearly two straight hours of inking to complete Kyle’s tattoo. And he sat through the entire thing in one sitting.

It’s a design he copied a couple years ago from one of the members of his favorite Christian rock-band, “Skillet.” It’s a single word, a stong word, a word that has deep meaning for Kyle’s life: Forgiven.

And I approve!

Kyle is 18-years-old today and I couldn’t be happier — I couldn’t be sadder. He’s no longer my little boy — he’s his own man.

His passage into adulthood leaves me proud. His growth leaves me old.

Jus’ last year I held him in my arms for the very first time. Now its all I can do to get my arms half way ’round him.

He’s my pride and I’m so very proud of him.

While I can no longer legally direct his actions, I will be there to advise him if should ask—and sometimes when he doesn’t. He will always have a shoulder to lean on or an ear to bend.

What’s left of his childhood are trinkets, photographs and memories. It’s now up to Kyle to point the way as he matures in his new found adulthood.