A Hundred Acre Wood

For nearly two years I have been walking nearly everyday. Usually I walk through the Kelley Creek Parkway near my home in Gresham, Oregon. I love to walk. I meditate, I dream, I enjoy the changing seasons around me. I have walked in the cold of winter and the heat of summer. No two walks are the same.

One of my dreams is to have my very own Hundred Acre Wood. I guess I have always been jealous of Winnie the Poo and his friends. All of their adventures take place in their Hundred Acre Wood.

Growing up in the small town of Lyons, Oregon, I had hundreds of acres of woods to explore, but not a single acre was mine. Some my friends explored with permission, some we explored without permission, which we added to the adventure. In those days nothing was ever said. We only cut down trees that had no commercial value, primarily alder and Viney Maple. We dug holes and built forts and played war and cowboys and Indians.

I have been cleaning up computer files and I came across something it had written on March 20, 2002 about the park and my dream.

Spring had arrived in the Portland area. I celebrated by taking a walk through the parkway, which is an undeveloped City of Gresham park. Houses surround the parkway, yet the only sounds usually birds, the rushing water in Kelly Creek, and an occasional jet headed for Portland International Airport.

Actually it’s the spillway of a flood control dam that creates the sound. The sky was blue and there was a hint of warmth in the air, a sign of the coming spring. Leaves were appearing on the underbrush. Awakened to the coming spring, the birds were cheerfully singing. I spotted a squirrel sitting on a branch and eating what I assume is food saved from last fall. Is he thinking of the free stuff that will be coming as the seasons change?

Mother Nature and her helpers, the birds and small animals, plant the trees in a haphazard fashion.

Every time I walk through the parkway I get a clearer vision of my own hundred-acre wood.

I want wild land, overgrown, with lots of underbrush and stands of trees. There are thousands of such acres in Western Oregon. A lot of it was logged and forgotten. With small hills and valleys the sights change as I walk along the paths. The valleys can provide for small seasonal streams and the hills for vista points. There is also a health benefit. The hills provide a little exercise.

My paths are wide enough for two people and covered with shale to allow year around walking. This is Oregon and one must be prepared for rain.

For the most part I have left the haphazard plantings of Mother Nature. Brush had to be cleared to build the paths and a few small meadows were developed. Bridges were built over the low spots where seasonal streams.

One of my favorite spots is Spirit House, a small storage shed size cabin located in the far corner of my hundred-acre wood. There is no electricity. A Lateran provides light. A table and a couple of chairs are the only furnishings this is a place for meditation and thinking. I carry a coffee thermos and by notebook. Here I can spend hours reading from one or more of the uplifting books that I have stocked the cabin with.

There are other dreams I have about my hundred ace wood. They will have to wait for another day. It’s time to head out the door for my daily walk.

American Association for the Encouragement of Fidgeting (AAEF)

Fidgeting is good for you and must be encouraged. To that end I'm considering forming the American Association for the Encouragement of Fidgeting (AAEF). There was a news report in the Internet yesterday on the benefits of fidgeting. The Medical research has shows that the difference between obesity and leanness is very small, just a little bit of activity here and there.

Teachers and parents must be warned of the dangers of reducing or eliminating fidgeting by children. They may be contributing to the obesity problem we're facing today. I'm also worried that attorney's may get wind of this and start class action suits against schools and teachers. How about children suing their parents for making them sit still in the car, at the dinner table or in church?

The study reports that if you have a natural tendency to fidget you can use that to your advantage to help keep your weight now. However, if you’re not a natural fidgeter (or the urge to fidget has been repressed) don’t despair. You can walk and do other things to get physical activity back into your life.

The research has shows that the difference between obesity and leanness is very small, just a little bit of activity here and there. Taking an additional 7,000 steps (as long as it isn’t from the TV to the kitchen for snacks) each day would burn an additional 350 calories.

The article was published in the LA times Friday, January 28th. If you cannot find it, just send me an email and I will be happy to forward it to you.

The Same Yet Different

36 years ago, as a long Navy Hospital Corpsman I met a slightly older Navy nurse by the name of Pat. No, this isn’t a love story. It was the beginning of a professional relationship and friendship that lasted all these years. We both stayed in the Navy. She retired to Florida. I retired to Oregon.

Email has allowed us to stay in touch. Pat emailed me last night to alert me to a CNN special, hosted by Paul Zahn.

The piece was produced by Alex Quade and reported on the medical care our troop receive from the battlefield in Iraq when they are wounded, through various levels of care in Iraq to the hospitals in Germany and the states.

Pat and I served for a year off the Coast of South Vietnam, support Marine and Army operations. I was assigned to the Urology ward and to the triage area, where at times we received causalities direct from the battlefield. Pat was one of the nurses I worked with every day.

Watching the show, I was impressed by the care being provided to our young men and women and how the different medical services are working together.

The medical personnel looked so young. Pat called them babies. That got me thinking and I found my cruise book (a year book for sailors) and looked through our pictures. There’s Pat, holding one of our young Vietnamese patients. I can hardly recognize myself. We were kids too.


Some of the tools are new. Military medicine has always taken advantage of the latest technology. I operated a kidney dialysis machine on board the Sanctuary before the manufacturer had even printed the manual for it. We had one of the three banks using frozen blood.

One thing hasn’t changed, the tender loving care that we gave our patients, is the same care being given today. I had tears in my eyes while watching the strength of the wounded troops and the strength, expertise and kindness of the Army, Navy, and Air Force medical personnel. It also brought back memories of the young men we treated so many years ago.

Thoughts of Spring

I know, it’s only the 24th of January, but my thoughts turned to spring this past week. We have had some unusually warm weather, hints of what is to come.

I love Oregon in the Spring (and in the summer, fall and winter too). It’s a time to get out and hit the back road. I-5 and I-84 is great for making fast time. If you want to enjoy the scenery you have to take the byways. For example, I live near the mouth of the Columbia Gorge, one of the most beautiful areas of the state. I-84 transverses the gorge and you can drive from my home in Gresham to The Dalles, at the other end of the gorge in less than 90 minutes. Most people make the trip in less time.

To see the real beautify of the gorge you need to take the Old Columbia River Highway out of Troutdale. An alternative is to take Route up the Washington side. Either route will make you slow down and enjoy all that the gorge has to offer. Even then you will miss much. There are places your car cannot take you. You can see a glance of Multnomah Falls from your car on I-84. On the Old Columbia River Highway you can pause in front of the fall and take a picture without getting out of the car. Or, you can park and walk the short distance to the observation area.

A little further east there is another falls. Most people drive right by. A few will stop and climb down to Oneonta Creek and walk up its bank to the logjam. Some will stop at the base of the large, tangled pile of logs and then turn back to their cars. A few will climb carefully to the top of the pile and look into the gorge. Then they will turn back to their cars and wonder what the attraction was.

A few will climb over the jam and wade up Oneonta Creek. It is impossible to make the journey without getting wet. The walls of the gorge preclude climbing. In the summer months the water isn’t deep. I’m 5”ll” and the water has never been deeper than my waist. The walk is level and after a couple of bends you can see Oneonta Falls.

It’s not a spectacular as Multnomah Falls. It’s the adventure of getting there that makes its exciting. Thousands of people will stop at Multnomah Falls. Only a few hundred will make the short trip up Oneonta Gorge to see and take pictures of Oneonta Falls. Sent me an email if you’d like to see pictures of the fall. Send me an email (or make a comment on this page).

There are hundreds of such spots scattered along the back roads of Oregon.

How did I find out about Oneonta Falls? I read an article in the local paper on a Thursday. I went Friday morning and there were a dozen people in the gorge. I went back on Sunday with my niece and we couldn’t find a place to park. That’s why we keep our favorite spots a secret.

The Prayer of Jabez

Three years ago today I started praying the Prayer of Jabez. I have missed very few days in between. Has it worked? I didn’t think so until this past week. Then I realized what had happened.

Every day I had prayed for God to let me do more for Him. What happened? I stepped forward and volunteered to serve on the Evangelism Team. I then found myself leading the team. That’s not all. Next Sunday I will start leading a ten week class on rekindling the dreams, the vision and the passion in our lives.

I asked for the opportunity to do more and God heard me. I listened to Him.

It’s going to be an interesting time. Can I help my church grow? Will the team and the congregation respond to my leadership? Will I be a good servant for God? Will people attend my class?

Lessons from Waiilatpu

I had a great-great uncle, John Law Osborn. He was born March 1,1844 in Henderson County, Illinois and died Jan 24, 1848, in Oregon City, Oregon Territory. If he had a tombstone it would read:

John Law Osborn
1844 – 1848

He was less than 4 when he died, but what a life he lived. The real story is in that dash, that little mark on tombstone between the date of birth and the date of death. That little dash is what matters most about people. Oh, our date of birth is important. It tells everyone when we arrived on this earth. The date of death is important too. It tells everyone when we departed this earth. Family members and strangers will come a look at our tombstones. Genealogists will note the beginning and ending dates of our lives and fit us onto the family tree.

He learned to walk on the Oregon Trail. His sister Nancy was only five and Sylvia Jane was under four in the spring of 1845. His mother Margaret was pregnant when they started across the continent that spring. She gave birth to Alexander Rogers Osborn on the Continental Divide. The family spent the winter of 1845-46 at the Whitman Mission at Waiilatpu, in what is now Southeastern Washington State. They would come down the Columbia River in the spring of 1846. The wagon trail went as far as The Dalles. From there it was down the river on rafts, with a portage around the rapids at the Cascades.

In the summer of 1846 Marcus Whitman found the Osborn’s at the Willamette Mission and hired John Law’s father, Josiah, to work at his mission at Waiilatpu. The family journeyed back up the Columbia River by Hudson Bay Company boats, only to arrive in time to be at the mission for the massacre that occurred on November 29, 1847. His family had already suffered the loss of Sylvia Jane. She died November 24, 1847, at the Mission. Another child was stillborn on November 14, 1847. Both are buried in the Mission Cemetery.

The family survived the Indian attack by hiding under the floorboards of the Mission. Than night they would escape and reach Fort Walla Walla, an outpost of the Hudson Bay Company. On January 2, 1848, along with remaining sixty two captives who had been rescued from the Indians, they started down the Columbia River in open boats. Nancy would later talk of the cold and of the portages around Celilo Falls and the Cascades. The journey downriver took 6 days. On Monday, January 9th, the party was transported from Fort Vancouver, headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company, to where the City of Portland now stands. There Governor George Abernethy of the Oregon Provisional Government welcomed the former captives and survivors. John Law Osborn died two weeks later.

The family would settle near Brownsville, Oregon, in the Willamette Valley. Four years to the day after the death of Sylvia Jane, twin daughters, Narcissa and Melissa, would be born to Josiah and Margaret Osborn. Narcissa is my Great Grandmother.

Today only God knows the burial place of John Law Osborn, somewhere in the vicinity of Oregon City. There are no photographs of him. No books have been written about John Law. No movies have been made documenting his life. His story is all but forgotten, except for a handful of family members who have taken the time to research his short life.

John Law has taught us that it doesn’t matter how much we own, the cars, the house, or the cash we have in the bank. What really matters is how we live our life and how we love. What matters is how we spend our dash.

John Law was only given 46 months to live out his life here on earth. How much time will you have? Are there things you’d like to change, family members you’d like to spend time with, places you’d like to visit, books you’d like to read, stories you’d like to tell?

We just need to slow down enough to enjoy our life, to be less quick to anger and to show appreciation more. We need to love the people in our lives more and treat each other with respect and to smile more . The time will come soon enough when our eulogy is being read. Are we going to be proud of the things they say about how we spent our dash?

Electric Cows

There was an interesting story on the Internet this morning being reported by the Associated Press. The Blue Spruce Farm in Bridport is generating electricity for Vermont’s largest utility by using the methane gas produced by their 1,500 cows.

The process appears to be simple. The manure is heated and the resulting methane gas is collected and used to power a generator, which then sends the electricity onto the power grid. Customers have signed up to pay about cents more per kilowatt-hour for their electricity to support the farmers.

Wow, everyone seems to benefit. The consumers have another source of renewable power. The farmers are able to turn manure into a cash flow. The cooking the manure gets rid of close to 90 percent of the smell and the depleted manure can be used for animal bedding or as compost. The farmers can offset their electricity costs and recover the cost of the processing equipment.

Hopefully the dairies of Oregon will pick up on the idea. Maybe the engineers will be able to tap this power support at it source and also be able to capture all the methane gas produced by the cows. Attaching small generation units shouldn’t be a problem. The only challenge I see is keeping the cables from getting tangled as the cows wander over the pasture.

Stories about Sunken Grade - Coffee and the Gospel

Another Sunken Grade story. This one was inspired by a high school classmate.

Coffee and the Gospel

Even in high school Juanita was different. There was a certain grace about her.

It took me many months to ask her out. In fact I was home on leave from the Navy when we had our first and only date. She was (and remains) unlike any girl I had even known.

Later she would call herself a self proclaimed Jesus freak.

For many of us she was Pastor Juanita of Sunken Grade Church and Coffee Shop, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I came home from the Navy Juanita was away at college. I would run into her mother at the post office and she would keep me current on Juanita’s progress. Sometimes I felt like she was reminding me that her daughter was way out of my league and I agreed with her.

Of course Juanita and I were in two totally different worlds. She was working toward her goal of becoming a minister. I working at enjoying life in Portland during the week and in Sunken Grade on the weekends I came home.

Then Juanita came home.

There was only one empty building that was usable as a church. It was the old Sunken Grade Feedlot building. It had been used for several different purposes during its seventy years. In the late 30’s it had been a feed store. In 1961 it was converted into a restaurant. The new owners had high hopes that the coast traffic would increase as the highway was improved. The State Highway department decided to bypass Sunken Grade and after a couple of very poor seasons, they moved their restaurant to the new highway.

Juanita fell in love with the old building when she first saw it. It solved three problems. First it would provide a home for her church. Second it would provide a place for her to live. There was a small apartment on the back of the building. Finally, it would provide employment while her new church grew.

I came home to Sunken Grade too. The excitement of Portland had worn thin and I found it harder and harder to leave Sunken Grade Friday night.

One Saturday afternoon I had encountered Jack Powers, publisher and editor of the Sunken Grade Tribune. He offered me a job. Jack didn’t say it, but I soon realized that he was burned out.

The staff of the paper included Mae, Jack’s wife of 39 years, Eva Hollinghead, who had started as a high school reporter in 1915, and Howie Skidmore, typesetter and pressman. I was to be a Jack-of-all-Trades. Jack wanted me to be a reporter, sell ads and to learn about new publishing techniques. Mae ran the office and she was more than welling to let me do whatever I wanted.

Now I’m sure you think you know where this story is going. I go to the coffee shop, see Juanita, fall in love; we marry and live happily ever after. You’re wrong… will partly.

I did go to the coffee shop. Actually, I saw Juanita and her mother and the building on the day she first looked at it. I stopped by to welcome her home and to offer to help any way I could. Juanita promised to take me up on the offer and her mother gave me the evil eye. Even after all these years she was protecting her daughter from the sailor.

Stories about Sunken Grade -

One of my hobbies is writing and I have created a fictional community, Sunken Grade, as a focual point of my writing.

Native American Woman Lake. (Nov)

An article in the Sunday Oregonian about the name changes for certain geographical features with less than desirable names reminded me of the renaming of Squaw Lake, outside of Sunken Grade, several years ago.

No one remembers how or why the oversized pond became known as Squaw Lake. For many years J. D. Walks owned the lake and a surrounding 750 acres of timber and meadows.

When J.D. died in 1915, title passed to daughter Helen, the wife of an attorney in Portland. The farm became a weekend retreat and summer home for Helen, family, friends and business associates.

Helen died in 1949 and ownership passed to a son, Congressman Jonathan Bigalow. His wife preferred life in Washington. Jon used the place for parties, most of which never made the society page of the Oregonian and only rarely came to the attention of the county sheriff. There was a rumor that a lady friend of the senator ran a bordello at the farm.

Jon and his wife died a few months apart-and they had no children. The farm went to Horace Greenleaf, a grandson of Helen and nephew of Jon.

Horace (actually goes by Ace) had a dream. There were several things that Sunken Grade lacked, including an airport, a country club, hot tub rentals, RV Park and golf course. His dream was to offer all these services and more.

Congressman Jon had put in a runway with help of the Naval Reserve units from Portland and Salem. It is the only field in the area. Jon allowed friends and neighbors to use it

The boathouse his grandfather had built became the Slip Inn. The inn became a hangout for many. Of course having the hot tubs nearby made it a favorite for lovers. Ace had spent a week in San Luis Obispo, California, with a cousin and she had introduced him to the hot tubs at the Sycamore Hot Springs. The tubs were scattered on an oak covered hill. Ace was able to copy that at Squaw Lake.

The large barn on the upper pasture became the clubhouse for the Sunken Grade Golf Course. The course started with a driving range and three holes. Every Spring Ace would add another hole and another campsite in the Squaw Lake RY Park.

The SG Country Club building was built new. Now realize, it is just a larger version of the Slip Inn. There is no steep initiation fee; all it costs is $10 for a lifetime membership. Everyone is welcome

Oh, the name change. When the government started remaining geographical sites Ace decided to go along. After much discussion at the Slip Inn and the Country club a new man was picked for the small lake. Someone had mentioned that a squaw was just a native American woman. Ace liked that and soon the sign on the highway pointed the way to Native American Woman Lake. The name of the RV park was also changed.

Everything else remained the same, including the name of the lake on county and state maps. Ace never got around to asking the state to change the name. Some of us still call it Squaw Lake.

Finding classmates and lost friends

Finding classmates and lost friends

One of my hobbies is searching for classmates and lost friends. The internet has made the search so easy. Sites like Classmates.com have also helped.

I enjoy the search. It’s like being a detective. But why search for friends from the past? The following poem was in one of the motivational E-Zines that I subscribe to:

Slow Dance

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down........Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last

Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask "How are you?" do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores running through your head?

You'd better slow down............Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last

Ever told your child, We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see their sorrow?

Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time to call and say "Hi"?

You'd better slow down.............. Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift.... Thrown away...

Life is not a race............ Do take it slower,
Hear the music

Before the song is over.
- Unknown

I have seen many good friendships fade away over the years as I lost contact with people. Good intentions isn’t enough, maintaining a friendship takes time and effort. E-Mail makes it easier and it’s amazing how friendships can be rekindled after nearly 40 years.

Hardy Plant Society of Oregon meeting cancelled.

This is one of those days when the TV stations think they need to broadcast continuous coverage of latest winter storm.

Portland is being is currently caught under a layer cold artic air under a moisture laden air moving over the top of it. The rain is freezing as it hits the colder air. There is a quarter to half inch of rain on the group. Almost all events, with the exception of the National Ice Skating competitions, are being cancelled today.

There has been a continuous stream of messages across the bottom of the TV. One really caught my attention. The Hardy Plant Society of Oregon cancelled their meeting. I guess the weather is even too much for plants (or at least their owners.

Normally this kind of weather doesn’t last long. I’m looking forward to the return of the rain.

20 Things About Me.

This was an interesting exercise. I recently found my list and decided to keep it. Now I have a place for it, here in my blog.

I have 3 sons, 2 daughters (twins) and 3 grandsons.
I am always on a diet. This one is working: 30+ pounds in 3 months.
I like to sing but cannot carry a tune.
I like “chick flicks.”
I love living wherever I happen to be living.
One day I am going to learn to dance.
I always wanted curly hair – now I’d just like to have hair.
I am right handed.
My handwriting is terrible.
I blame this on taking technical drawing in school, being around doctors and computers.
I’m learning to cook.
I enjoy photography with a digital camera.
I enjoy writing.I love to read.2 things I would most hate to be without are a computer and ….
I am recovering Task Avoidance Strategy master.
My favorite movie is “A Walk in the Clouds”.
I like to walk.
I have a great lover and partner, Nancy, even though we are currently in a long distance relationship.
I’m a Methodist and a Kiwanian (and former Boy Scout leader/professional).

It's almost up to zero

What a strange winter. Southern California looks more like Oregon than Oregon does right now. Yesterday it was reported that LAX has had 750% of normal rainfall for the first ten days of January. Portland International (PDX) is sitting at 44% of normal.

Right now the edge of a cold artic air mass is sitting just North of us. Yesterday, when checked the thermometer on the back porch the temperature was almost up to freezing. The temperature hovered around freezing all day.

The jet stream is coming out of Alaska and is diving south along the west coast. It turns inland over Southern California, where it is picking up all the moisture coming up from the Southwest. Normally the jet stream goes over Canada and we get all the rain and snow here in Oregon.

I would prefer the rain to the snow. The webfeet of most Oregonians don’t work well in snow and ice. We like the feel of moisture between our toes.

Hopefully the weather pattern will change soon and Southern California and Oregon will be able to return to normal weather patterns.

La Conchita

My thoughts keep going back to the little California coastal community of La Conchita. The village of 200 is located between Santa Barbara and Ventura, sitting between US101 and the mountains behind it. When I lived in San Luis Obispo I drove past it numerous times, going to and from Los Angeles.

So far three residents have died and another 20 or so are missing in a massive mudslide. The same thing happened in the late 1990’s. I was on my way to a business meeting in Los Angeles and was delayed by a mudslide that destroyed the row of houses at the base of the mountain. The banana plantation at the west end of the village was also wiped out at that time.

Will the people of La Conchita be able to survive this latest mudslide or will this be the end of another small community? I’m sure if Ventura County and the State of California have their way, a historical marker will be all that is left of the village.

The deaths in La Conchita may seem insignificant when compared to the great loss of life caused by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. I have only seen pictures from there. La Conchita has been a part of my life, if only seen from a passing automobile.

Monday Morning Weight Check

Monday mornings are always exciting. That is when I climb on the scales and see the results of my efforts over the past week. I have been trying to lose weight for years. However, I kept moving in the wrong direction. First it was going over 200 pounds for the first time.

Every year seemed to add a couple more pounds. This year it reached 265 and finally said enough is enough. I still considered myself thin, but the scale sand photographs told a different story and I didn’t like what I was seeing.

I tried several of the fad diets and none seemed to work until I saw the results of the South Beach Diet on a friend. He has lost over 60 pounds and looks great.

I think the roughest part of any diet is the first two weeks and this diet was no different. My two weeks were spent on a road trip and with the help of Nancy I was able to stay on track. Breakfast was especially hard. I love potatoes and toast, but had to give both up. The biggest change was reducing the amount of food I was eating.

It worked, the pounds started coming off. This morning I weighted in at 235. That’s a loss of 30 pounds from my top weight. I feel great and I can actually see my feet when standing. It’s wonderful.

A New Year and a New Adventure

I recently discovered blogs. My son was with the Oregon National Guard in Baghdad (downtown, in the center of it all) and is enjoyed reading the blogs maintained by several reporters. I found the blog's contained the personal, behind the scene, stories of life in the war zone.

I have always enjoyed writing and consider myself an unpublished writer. I did edit a e-letter (email letter) for over a year and managed to reach over 100 subscribers. I also write at least 500 words each day. This is something Julia Cameron got me into while reading her The Right to Write.

I have no idea where is blog is going to go. I welcome your comments.

Tom