Contest: Enter to Win a GEOSATpro microHD STB and SL1PLL LNBF - Ends 5/31/2013 Midnight PDT
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There was a storm drainage pipe that was big enough to walk in all hunched over as a kid and we used to go in it and walk hunched over for about 600 feet until we came to the manhole box under the road.We wrote our 1st names and graffiti all over the insides of the pipe.About 30 years later they covered over our entrance to the pipe and built a new road over that area.Some day they will dig up the pipe and the workers will be scratching their heads wondering about how the names got there.Whenever I go back to town to visit and ride down the road I think about it.
My mom was one of those go outside and play and don't come back until dinner kind of parents during the summer. My friend Clint and I played sports all summer for 5 summers I'm a row. Baseball during baseball season. Football during football season. Soccer racing hockey. Anything to kill time. I remember one summer I was out later playing baseball and my mom sent my brother to come get me and I was so upset at the age of 8 of having to go in I low blowed by brother (also 8) with the baseball bat.
Sent From My Samsung Hercules
Sent From My Samsung Hercules
Living in the sticks most of my life, I always enjoyed roaming the forests nearby. A fun day for me, when I was 12-13yrs old, was searching for arrowheads. Flint isn't really that plentiful around here, but there once was a large Native American culture in Alabama, so finding spearpoints and arrowheads wasn't that unusual. Especially if you could find a freshly plowed field to search. Walking off a dirt road near home one day, I decided to just wander off the roadway and into the nearby woods, until I came to what looked like a neat little clearing near a creek. The soil was sandy there, and flat, so I grabbed a small stick and just started scratching the ground. Just in a few gouges of ground, I started finding tiny little flint-chips, and I was excited-I had found a place where arrowheads had been chipped out by some "Indian" craftsman, long ago. I had no camera, nor any witness! But even then I knew I shouldn't disturb it, so I took nothing and covered it back up with the soil I'd disturbed. Often I wondered if I could find that place again. There hasn't been any building or excavating there, quite possibly it's still there, unknown to anybody but myself.
Great stories all, and surprising to see so many folks from the farm. Born in upstate New York, we used to take our summer vacations at our grandparents farm in eastern Iowa. Later around age 11 we moved to that farm. From baling hay & the sweet smell of alfalfa to raising & showing my prize calf at the county fair, those memories come flooding back. Lots of hard work, you bet, but good wholesome living & a work ethic that has kept me in good stead for a lifetime. Plenty of fun too like pushing a '46 Chevy down a steep hill to get it started...& no brakes either!!!
Growing up near the city in upstate NY, we would go on trips around the Adirondacks a lot when we were kids. It seemed like my dad didnt want to leave when we went. He never liked the city and you could tell when he had to go back to it every time. The vein on the side of his neck seemed to throb the closer we got. Every year he would make statements about how he wished he could live out there.
One year, we went to the blue Mountain Lake Museum. There was a display about an Adirondack "hermit" named Jon Rondeau. He lived off the land primarily and trapped and hunted to make money and feed himself. My dad was amazed by the stories, the cabin, and the man. His comments after that were more geared toward how Jon did it in a 10 x 10 cabin and how its all that was really needed to live in.
By the time I turned 12, we were driving our chevy van about 40 miles away to a friends house who was clearing his land. Several trips back to the city with logs hanging out the back by at least 8 feet. What a site! Before you know it, we were building a 10 x 10 cabin just outside of Albany. That was and still is pretty much unheard of. We're talking about a place where houses are 10 feet apart. But, we had a cabin in our back yard. When my friends asked me to go out bike riding or to the community center, I would tell them "I have to skin logs first". I smelled like tree sap every day!
That cabin was just the start. My dad eventually moved out of the city, bought more land, built 2 more cabins, and went all the way off the grid. No electric, no running water, cuts his own firewood at 60 still. I always knew he was crazy. But, I appreciate the experiences more as I get older. I'm glad I learned the old ways of doing things. Im glad I look for different ways to do things. And Im so thankful for all the time I've spent alone with just my thoughts to keep me company. Its easy to forget how distracted everyone gets from all the "noise" in the city.
I think a lot of people who are interested in old technology and old ways share a lot of traits. I realize this every time I go to pick up equipment from an old "c band guy". I dont know how to put it other than "They're my peoples". We seem to click. I'm around people every day who consider themselves different thinkers and creative people because they created a web page or something. And, I think to myself, Oh yeah, I saved a bunch of old stuff from the landfill yesterday that's capable of communicating with equipment in space. And I got it to work by asking questions and learning how it actually works. Maybe its not so amazing to everyone. That just leaves more toys for the rest of us.
-Definitely hooked
One year, we went to the blue Mountain Lake Museum. There was a display about an Adirondack "hermit" named Jon Rondeau. He lived off the land primarily and trapped and hunted to make money and feed himself. My dad was amazed by the stories, the cabin, and the man. His comments after that were more geared toward how Jon did it in a 10 x 10 cabin and how its all that was really needed to live in.
By the time I turned 12, we were driving our chevy van about 40 miles away to a friends house who was clearing his land. Several trips back to the city with logs hanging out the back by at least 8 feet. What a site! Before you know it, we were building a 10 x 10 cabin just outside of Albany. That was and still is pretty much unheard of. We're talking about a place where houses are 10 feet apart. But, we had a cabin in our back yard. When my friends asked me to go out bike riding or to the community center, I would tell them "I have to skin logs first". I smelled like tree sap every day!
That cabin was just the start. My dad eventually moved out of the city, bought more land, built 2 more cabins, and went all the way off the grid. No electric, no running water, cuts his own firewood at 60 still. I always knew he was crazy. But, I appreciate the experiences more as I get older. I'm glad I learned the old ways of doing things. Im glad I look for different ways to do things. And Im so thankful for all the time I've spent alone with just my thoughts to keep me company. Its easy to forget how distracted everyone gets from all the "noise" in the city.
I think a lot of people who are interested in old technology and old ways share a lot of traits. I realize this every time I go to pick up equipment from an old "c band guy". I dont know how to put it other than "They're my peoples". We seem to click. I'm around people every day who consider themselves different thinkers and creative people because they created a web page or something. And, I think to myself, Oh yeah, I saved a bunch of old stuff from the landfill yesterday that's capable of communicating with equipment in space. And I got it to work by asking questions and learning how it actually works. Maybe its not so amazing to everyone. That just leaves more toys for the rest of us.
-Definitely hooked
My favorite summer memory was when I was about 14 years old. It was a family trip and the first time my whole family had gone camping together. It was so much fun. We isolated for one whole week camping in a state park in Texas. We stayed in tents and we were near a river. Never had so much fun in my life. The memory stays because we were all together.
When I was about 14 in 1974 at Masanga Leprosy Hospital in Sierra Leone West Africa I was riding home from a fixed up old chicken coop small Hospital compound school on my 28 inch tire large frame black bicycle going down a steep gravel road and I decided to ride with no hands and sit on the back book rack at the same time asking all near by girls to watch me!!!!! I promptly crashed and cut a 4 inch gash in my leg. The cut was not fun but the girls were fun.
Trip to the Moon!
In July 1971, I was a teen and my brother was a teen a few years older. We learned the Apollo 15 launch was only days away in Florida. Apollo 15 was the fourth mission to land on the Moon. Only the two of us jumped in his 1970 VW automatic stickshift orange Beetle and we drove from Vancouver to Titusville, Florida. I wasn't old enough to drive, so he drove the entire 6500+ mile round trip. Since we only had a few days, we drove as non-stop as his ability to stay awake allowed diagonally across the U.S. from northwest to southeast. With almost no money and a Chevron gas credit card, we had to sleep in free rest areas at the side of highways, laying on the ground beside our VW. No time to erect our tent even. I was the navigator long before GPS so I used paper maps picked up from gas stations along the way. I remember the gasoline price at a discount station in Kansas was 29 cents / gallon.
I remember Wolfman Jack on the night radio as we cruised along highways in the dark. John Denver was king on the charts at the time endlessly singing about the country roads in West Virginia. I remember the strange accents heard in Alabama, reminding me of the To Kill a Mockingbird story. And the night we did sleep in the tent but left the fig newton cookies open (typical "dinner") only to wake in the night to find the entire tent swarming with ants; the tent floor was in motion from all the ants.
We witnessed the launch while standing on the shore in Titusville with thousands of others looking across the water at the rocket. More importantly, we felt the ground shake like an earthquake was happening and we heard the sharp crackling as rocket climbed and burned its fuel. It was exciting stuff for a teen in 1971.
Car similar to this carried us to the Moon:
In July 1971, I was a teen and my brother was a teen a few years older. We learned the Apollo 15 launch was only days away in Florida. Apollo 15 was the fourth mission to land on the Moon. Only the two of us jumped in his 1970 VW automatic stickshift orange Beetle and we drove from Vancouver to Titusville, Florida. I wasn't old enough to drive, so he drove the entire 6500+ mile round trip. Since we only had a few days, we drove as non-stop as his ability to stay awake allowed diagonally across the U.S. from northwest to southeast. With almost no money and a Chevron gas credit card, we had to sleep in free rest areas at the side of highways, laying on the ground beside our VW. No time to erect our tent even. I was the navigator long before GPS so I used paper maps picked up from gas stations along the way. I remember the gasoline price at a discount station in Kansas was 29 cents / gallon.
I remember Wolfman Jack on the night radio as we cruised along highways in the dark. John Denver was king on the charts at the time endlessly singing about the country roads in West Virginia. I remember the strange accents heard in Alabama, reminding me of the To Kill a Mockingbird story. And the night we did sleep in the tent but left the fig newton cookies open (typical "dinner") only to wake in the night to find the entire tent swarming with ants; the tent floor was in motion from all the ants.
We witnessed the launch while standing on the shore in Titusville with thousands of others looking across the water at the rocket. More importantly, we felt the ground shake like an earthquake was happening and we heard the sharp crackling as rocket climbed and burned its fuel. It was exciting stuff for a teen in 1971.
Car similar to this carried us to the Moon:
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Great story!
I was fortunate enough to be in Orlando/Daytona area in the mid 90's when a shuttle was going to be launched, and went to Titusville/Cape Canaveral to see the launch at night. Nothing you say can begin to convey the power, the sound, the feel and the whole experience to another person that hasn't seen one in person. The sharp crackling and booming vibrations is right! I don't think a sound system could reproduce the sensations.
I can remember when my father would make ice cream when I was very young. He would have me sit on top of the ice cream maker to hold it steady while he cranked it. We would eat so much ice cream that it became our evening meal. My father was like a pioneer. He was born in 1890. He was 64 years old when I was born. I can remember how he was not afraid of wasps. I was terrified of wasps but he would grab wasp nests with his hand and swat the ones that stung him like we swat mosquitoes.
Lamp
Lamp
riding bikes, atari 2600, farm work, Munsters/Lost in Space/Monkees reruns, Casey Casem countdown, seeing the milk/ice cream man's pickup, picking wild berries
riding bikes, skateboarding on skateboard made from sister's old roller skates and scrap lumber, soundesign 2540 shortwave radio, talking on homemade "string radio" made from cans/string, painting/lawn cutting/weeding/car washing, Munsters/Lost in Space/Star Trek/Time Tunnel/Monkees/Beatles cartoons originals/reruns, Casey's Coast to Coast countdown, waiting for ice cream truck, delivering newspapers, picking huckleberries. Gee, west coast living wasn't so different from your area.
I grew up in the 1970's on Long Island, the youngest of 4. My oldest brother and sister were already off to college and jobs, but my other brother and me were still in high school during this period. After the divorce, one of the items my Dad left behind was the Sears 11'x11', orange, canvas tent he would take the family camping in. Now, just our Mom, my brother and me, we kept up the tradition each summer, and the summer of '72 was no different.
This time we planned on camping near the Finger Lakes region in NY's Adirondacks. We left late after Mom was done with work on Friday, and didn't actually arrive at the CoA camp site until around midnight. It was dark, and quiet. I mean, it was silent. Nobody else was stirring, short of the few crickets and a few other night critters.
That is . . . until WE arrived.
Now, we were well disciplined. our Mom always taught us to be considerate of others, and this included arriving at a camp site after midnight very quietly. So, quietly we worked as we unpacked the car, and laid out the tarp then the tent on the tarp, whispering softly among ourselves. Then my Mom asked my brother, 4-years older than me, to take to the task of hammering in the tent stakes so we could erect the tent. Sure, Mom. Simple enough. He'd done this before at numerous camp sites and was familiar to the task.
"CLANG!!!!!"
"Shhhhhh! Honey, you'll wake everyone!" Whispered my mom.
But again, "CLANG!!!!!"
With each blow of the hammer came another loud "CLANG!", which echoed throughout the park for several seconds, settling down upon us like an unmistakable "HERE THEY ARE!" beacon! There was no avoiding it. There would be no "Shhhhh!" this night.
Unlike any of the other camp sites we had been to up till this one, we had never had this issue. My brother went to a tent peg loop on the other side of the tent. But the ground would not be silenced, and again the contact of the hammer with the metal stake rang out, "CLANG!".
AN FYI NOTE, to younger folks: Plastic or alternative tent stakes did not exist in the 1970's. In fact, aluminum stakes had not even been introduced yet. These were good 'ole steel tent stakes, heavy and solid, with the tonal nature of a high pitched bell.
What we had not counted on was the granite nature of the ground so close to the surface in the Adirondacks! Looking back at this night, it is like trying to camp in the Rockies in Colorado. The rest of the tent raising went on like this. I could feel my Mom's embarrassment in the dark, as we attempted to "quietly" finish setting up camp, knowing that by the time we were finished all of our "new" neighbors were very well aware that the Anvil Choir had just moved in next door!!
All in all, it was a good vacation. But that will always be one of my fondest memories with my Mom and my brother, camping near the Finger Lakes!
Hope you all enjoyed!
Best regards,
AykroSat
This time we planned on camping near the Finger Lakes region in NY's Adirondacks. We left late after Mom was done with work on Friday, and didn't actually arrive at the CoA camp site until around midnight. It was dark, and quiet. I mean, it was silent. Nobody else was stirring, short of the few crickets and a few other night critters.
That is . . . until WE arrived.
Now, we were well disciplined. our Mom always taught us to be considerate of others, and this included arriving at a camp site after midnight very quietly. So, quietly we worked as we unpacked the car, and laid out the tarp then the tent on the tarp, whispering softly among ourselves. Then my Mom asked my brother, 4-years older than me, to take to the task of hammering in the tent stakes so we could erect the tent. Sure, Mom. Simple enough. He'd done this before at numerous camp sites and was familiar to the task.
"CLANG!!!!!"
"Shhhhhh! Honey, you'll wake everyone!" Whispered my mom.
But again, "CLANG!!!!!"
With each blow of the hammer came another loud "CLANG!", which echoed throughout the park for several seconds, settling down upon us like an unmistakable "HERE THEY ARE!" beacon! There was no avoiding it. There would be no "Shhhhh!" this night.
Unlike any of the other camp sites we had been to up till this one, we had never had this issue. My brother went to a tent peg loop on the other side of the tent. But the ground would not be silenced, and again the contact of the hammer with the metal stake rang out, "CLANG!".
AN FYI NOTE, to younger folks: Plastic or alternative tent stakes did not exist in the 1970's. In fact, aluminum stakes had not even been introduced yet. These were good 'ole steel tent stakes, heavy and solid, with the tonal nature of a high pitched bell.
What we had not counted on was the granite nature of the ground so close to the surface in the Adirondacks! Looking back at this night, it is like trying to camp in the Rockies in Colorado. The rest of the tent raising went on like this. I could feel my Mom's embarrassment in the dark, as we attempted to "quietly" finish setting up camp, knowing that by the time we were finished all of our "new" neighbors were very well aware that the Anvil Choir had just moved in next door!!
All in all, it was a good vacation. But that will always be one of my fondest memories with my Mom and my brother, camping near the Finger Lakes!
Hope you all enjoyed!
Best regards,
AykroSat
Harvestime
At the end of summer my Mammaw (Grandmother) would have most of the grandchildren of her 7 children come to help her harvest a large garden.
She had everything starting with carrots up to a vineyard. There was also the dreaded two acres of 'taters we had to dig too. Flying squirrels and hummingbirds zipped over us when we 'dug taters.
My cousin learned the hard way that if you pick cayenne peppers wash your hand before going to the bathroom
Lots of work but nothing is better than sitting in a cherry tree and eating your fill of fruit straight off the tree.
At the end of summer my Mammaw (Grandmother) would have most of the grandchildren of her 7 children come to help her harvest a large garden.
She had everything starting with carrots up to a vineyard. There was also the dreaded two acres of 'taters we had to dig too. Flying squirrels and hummingbirds zipped over us when we 'dug taters.
My cousin learned the hard way that if you pick cayenne peppers wash your hand before going to the bathroom
Lots of work but nothing is better than sitting in a cherry tree and eating your fill of fruit straight off the tree.
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Grew up on a dairy farm. It was always great to go to one of the local swimming holes - there were a couple old abandoned marble quarries nearby - after a long day in the hayfields.
Thanks for another great contest Brian!
Thanks for another great contest Brian!
Grew up in a fishing village by the seaside. Summer days were spent fishing, diving, surfing and roasting the fish in a fire to eat. Also other things that I cannot include in this post.
My favorite summer memories are vacations at Cape Cod. Many hours spent on the beach and on my family's boat.
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