Ol Eli

Here I sit after a long and useful life. Along time ago when life was simple I came to live with Joshua and Sara McAllister. They were a young couple ready to set the world a blaze. They worked side by side making the farm productive. The days were long and summers endless. After my second harvest on the farm, Sara worked less and less. She tired faster but that only seemed to make Joshua work harder. Early in the spring, Sara had a boy. They named him Jacob. Jacob changed our family little by little. The long days would get interrupted for trips to the swimmin' hole and more trips around the barn for no apparent reason at all. Some days we would load the wagon to my hitch and go way off into the meadow and have supper under the stars. Life was so grand back in those days!

The summer of Jacob's 13th birthday, Joshua was shoeing the horse when tragedy happened. Joshua stumbled and frightened Big Red and that's when he was struck in the head by a hove. Poor Joshua never knew what hit him! It was such a sad day when they laid him to rest. The sky was overcast and the wind blew. I didn't come out of the barn until the next planting season. Young Jacob took right over where his father left off. He was still a boy but he worked hard to fill his father's shoes. He would work way after sundown and get up early to get the chores done. There were no more picnics, or trips to the swimming hole, or even fun trips around the barn. Work, work, work, Jacob knew it was up to him. The farm was never quite the same.

The years past and it was plain to see that Jacob was growing restless. The farm was surviving but the passion was gone. He would work day in and day out and never complain but something was missing. You could sense that the boy wanted something more. Even though he desired for more, he never let his mother know. After all he loved his mother more than anything and they were all each other had in this world. She would still dote on him. She made sure his lunches were prepared and that he always had clean clothes. Yes, he loved his mother and he knew his place was there.

Jacob was called to the war shortly after his 19th birthday. His momma was strong. Worried and wary, she kissed her son and wished him a safe return. The first two years of Jacob's absence, we hired the Johnson boy. He was a good enough worker but he popped my clutch and ran me way too fast. His family had a farm and he was doing double duty. So he wasn't the most attentive person to have work for us. The harvests were lean and paying wages stretched us thin. We sold that stupid horse and three years into the war Sara was back driving me. We couldn't afford the hired help, so it was just us. She was more gentle and the work may have slowed but we weren't spring chickens anymore. We got by. When Jacob got back we would be in top shape again!

I still remember that late fall day. We were just finishing up in the cornfield, when a big black car came creeping in the drive. A tall man in a green suit came and handed Sara an envelope. What came next will forever be in my memory. Sara wept like I have never heard, she fell to ground and the men had to help her into the house. I never saw Sara again. They say she died from a broken heart. Jacob never returned home. The Johnson's bought the farm and moved their equipment into the barn. I developed a sputter and was replaced. I was moved out by the potato field and in the fall they sit a scarecrow on me. Here I sit, forgotten and left to rust season after season.

It was such a simple time filled with endless summers of swimmin' holes and laughter. Oh, to go back there again.......

Train tunnel

As we sped across Oregon, we seen quite a few train tunnels. Nothing big, right. But it just seemed so foreign to me. We live in the mountains but all around us is desert country. I can only think of a few places that iI have seen tunnels like these. Anyway, it caused me to stop and that is worth mentioning because I stop for gas and that's it on a roadtrip. It seemed worthy.

Signs from the past

These are images from my past. Each of these signs has been a part of the local landscape for as long as I can remember. Some of them don’t work, yet others are still, flashing there welcome and hypnotizing aura to the town folks.

Imagine if you will, a warm summer night in 1968, good friends Crusin’ around town in a 1966 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396. The Hi-Spot is getting crowded and receiving to much attention from the local peace officers. We get in the car and, after a few minutes Draggin’ State Street we find our way to Jack & Jill Bowling Alley. We go in, and engage ourselves in a game of pool our as luck may have it, a few frames of bowling!

Those were the days. We can entertain ourselves all night, and not spend more than $2.50, and that’s including gas money for the fast ride!

Camp Floyd-Utah

Today's trail stop in history.

Camp Floyd was a fort established in 1859 and abandoned in 1861. It is filled with intrigue and mystery. Government conspiracy and incompetency surround this peaceful cemetery. First off, it was named for Secretary of War, John B Floyd. It was the largest concentration of US Troops at that time. They were 3500 strong and sent to stop the Mormon Rebellion. Well, good ol Johnny Floyd was found to be a southern sympathizer and some believe he kept Camp Floyd as a way of draining Civil War Funds. It was the farthest away and was costly to keep going. At one time it had over 400 buildings, 7000 people, 40,000 oxen, and 1000 mules. The graves here are symbolic. Their bodies aren't under these stones. Some of these men never even were in Utah. I did a little research on the 2 stones I took pictures of and this is what I found:

1-Michael Flynn: He died in the area we know as Fort Bridger, Wyoming. He was a participant in a duel with a clerk from Livingston and Kincaid, a Mr. Bleasingdale. Mr. Bleasingdale was badly wounded and Michael Flynn was wounded in the leg. The leg had to be amputated and he died from complication from that. He never was at Camp Floyd.

2-Henry Tucker: He actual was at Camp Floyd and there was no cause of death stated.

3-Army Intelligence is an oxymoron.

From what I gather the flow of information was terrible. Shabby records and distance made it tough to get the information right. I think it is great that places like this are maintained and kept as reminders. It's little stops on dirt roads in the middle of nowhere that fuel my interest into a world quickly fading away....

Out of respect I make no stories this time from these soldiers or their mark on history.




"There will always be a frontier, where there is a open mind and a willing hand."

---Charles Kettering

Ethel Anne and Lester's Place

Lester was a tall skinny wisp of a man. Ethel Anne was on the other hand not tall nor was she very skinny. She was a big bully of a woman who never met a imperfection she wouldn't point out. Which didn't play out well for Lester at all. He was a mousey little man who bottled up his true feelings for his behemoth of a wife. By nature Lester was lazy. Ethel Anne scolded him day after day, "Lester! Cut down the infernal sapling behind the house!" Lester would ignore her and go sleep down by the fishing hole. Seasons went by and constantly he would hear. "Lester! Cut down that tree!" Season after season, Lester would ignore her and go fishing. Sometimes if she had been nipping at the cider jug, Lester would come home to a flying plate or cup. Being a little man he would have to take the occasional dish to the head or if she was particularly angry a slug to the back of the head.

One night late in the fall, a early storm came blowing in. The small shack shook and creaked until you thought it might pick up and blow away. The front door burst open! All the cold air and wind filled up the shack. Ethel Anne knowing her useless husband would just ignore it, got up and waddled over to shut the door. Crack!!

Ethel Anne was right of course, Lester did sleep right through the storm. When he awoke the next morning to the cold breeze filling the shack, he realized he was alone in the bed. Oh joy! Then he thought, "Great, I am surely to blame for something and will get beat today." He arose to find his burly bride. When he walked to the kitchen, he found her on the floor. The life squashed out of her by a fallen tree. That stupid sapling had grown into a massive tree and must have came down in the storm. At first he felt sadness. Then the reality sunk in. No more beatings, no more chores, all the time to go fishing he could handle. Well, ol Lester hit the jackpot!

Ethel Anne was buried next to the base of that stupid tree she had complained about for oh so long. Lester was so lazy, he never really fixed the shack. He just sort of propped the tree back up and went to take a nap by the pond.

Moral of the story: Good things come to those who wait? or why do today what can be used to squash your annoying wife later?

Blog Intro: South Fork and Walsburg Trip

I felt that Vanishing America needed its own blog page. I wanted to be able to share more photos and make up bios for the people and places we see. I think this can be a fun way of matching up our photo skills and our creative writing skills. Please feel free to post any pics, but please give a short description of location and make up anything you want to say about the picture. Have fun with this, I challenge you to find history and make it your own!!