The Camp

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Growing up, I was very lucky. My Grandfather, who lived with us, owned a camp on a small pond a few hours from home. We got to spend our summer there.

It was very rustic. The only modern convenience was electricity. No indoor plumbing and no heat except the wood cook stove and some very old (even then) space heaters.

The camp sat just a few feet from the shore line of a very pristine body of water. No boat with a motor was ever in that pond and sparkling clear water remains to this day.

    

Some of my fondest memories come from that camp. The first weekend after school let out in June we’d load up the car and head to the camp. Dad would drive us all down and spend the weekend then he’d return home to work and drive back and stay with us on weekends.

As soon as we got there my shoes came off and didn’t go back on again until we returned home after Labor Day weekend. My feet were always really sore the first day back at school!

Even back then I was up early and I’d take a swim in the quiet and solitude of the sun rise and then I’d make breakfast; sometimes it was pancakes over a wood fired stove. That usually got every one else moving around as well.

I remember walking barefoot over five miles to Plymouth Massachusetts to buy the newest Nancy Sinatra album. Even with rustic conditions one had to have some priorities. And by the way back then you could still go barefoot in a store.

We had a wooden raft in the water, held up by empty 55 gallon drums that you could swim out to and dive off of. There was also an old wooden rowboat that was fun to maneuver around in the pond, take into the “swampy” area and hunt frogs and turtles, which we would later release.

I spent one entire summer irritating my Mother by singing “I’m Henry the VIII I Am” as loudly as I could in my best Cockney accent, which I thought was pretty good! Never knew why she didn’t love it as much as I did; it’s not like I didn’t mix in a verse of Gary Lewis and the Playboys “Save Your Heart for Me” now and then.

    

A neighbor had a small rickshaw he let us use and I’d pull my sister around in it for hours. Okay, I’m not entirely sure how much fun I had but she sure did!

On the other hand, she didn’t much fun when I talked her into rolling down a grassy hill with me. Okay, I was young, grass, poison ivy; they look the same, right? Good thing I wasn’t allergic to it; too bad about little sis though!

    

Then there was the time my big brother was going fishing, I wanted to go fishing too! I was only four and there was no such thing as “little kids” fishing equipment. So Dad took a stick and some twine and bent an old, large safety pin into a hook for me, put a worm on it and let me have fun. Meanwhile, he and big bro went off to try to catch some fish. I can proudly report there was only one fish caught that day, on an old bent safety pin! I landed a bluegill or sunfish as we used to call them, one of my proudest moments! Big brother still hasn’t forgiven me!

After my grandfather passed away, my folks couldn't afford to keep the property and it eventually was sold. I always vow that if I win the lottery, I’ll buy it back, no matter the cost. And, to paraphrase Paul Simon, I know it would never match my sweet memories! 

It’s Too Late Baby!

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Proudly walking into a record store with a crisp five dollar bill that I earned doing household chores, I made my very first LP purchase “Can’t Buy a Thrill” by Steely Dan. Prior to that, my LP collection consisted of albums that were gifts. One of the earliest ones I can recall was “Tapestry” by Carole King.

There’s a dim memory about a teacher lecturing to the class about Carole King and referring to a newspaper article with a large photo of her. Ms. King, who had toiled for years as a songwriter and occasionally recorded, had finally hit the big time. I remember thinking that her curly hair was kind of wild looking. And she wore jeans!

Now, regarding the first copy of Tapestry I received; no recollection who gave it to me. I played it and loved every song, leaning towards the hits “It’s Too Late”, “I Feel the Earth Move”, and “So Far Away”. I thought it odd that an Aretha Franklin song was on the album; hey, what did I know about songwriters at a young age?

That first copy was well on the way to groove extinction when I received a fresh copy. Again, no clue who.

Back of the school.

Meanwhile, I had a little crush on a boy a grade below me, Warren. Naturally, I was afraid to talk to him; he never spoke much anyway. We did speak on a few occasions, but conversation was usually shy and restrained. He always had a book in his hand could often be seen wearing his denim jacket leaning up against a wall outside the school and quietly reading with his long straight hair blocking his eyes.

Warren watched as I ran a race on the big field one day; when I spotted him standing among the other kids, I ran much faster and was one of the first finishers! Amazing what a little attention will do to a girl.

We never really dated but we might have come close if I hadn’t eventually blown it. Besides, we were too young to be dating anyway.

Back to school, 1971. I hadn’t seen Warren for the whole summer. He told me he had something for me and he’d meet me in the library later. Wow! My birthday was the previous month; did he want to give me a present? Did he miss me? Funny thing was; I had something for him too!

We met in the school library as planned; a girlfriend was with me; not sure why she was there. Shyly, I handed to Warren a flat, square package. He opened it and looked pleased. It was the “Ram” LP by Paul and Linda McCartney. I paid $3.50 for it at Woolworths with money my step-mom gave to me.

Now it was my turn. I ripped the wrapping off of something flat and square. An album! “Tapestry” by Carole King. I turned to my girlfriend and said “I already have two copies of this, here, you can have it.”

End of romance.

Dale Carnegie once said “If you want to gather honey, don't kick over the beehive.” Well, I did better than that; I kicked it so hard the honey went to Mars!

Warren, I apologize for any hurt I may have caused.

Note: Not his real name.

Remembering Davy Jones

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The Monkees were together as a group initially from 1966 to 1970 and what an impact they made on us! All of us here at Groovy Reflections are stunned and saddened by Davy Jones’ passing and we’d like to share our thoughts with you.

Gerry: I was pretty young when The Monkees were on TV. I loved the show; it was perfect for a youngster, full of slapstick comedy and music! I had the first two albums; can’t recall if they were gifted from my parents or a friend. I particularly liked the tune "Your Auntie Grizelda" because of the silly sounds Peter made.

Not going to go into which Monkee was my fave at that young age. I’ll admit to changing allegiance over time AND I got mad at Mickey for getting a perm. In later years I learned that these were truly talented guys and they had to fight with producers to gain control of their music and be allowed to play instruments! They entertained us, we sang along, and we still do today. I loved all four of them.

My heart goes out to Davy’s family; since this is a well-publicized passing perhaps someone out there will understand the importance of heeding to those symptoms of heart attack and a life can be saved. May you rest in peace, Davy Jones. We’ll continue to enjoy all the music you left us.

Paul: It was September 12th 1966, I was just 16 years old and I invited these four guys into my living room. The Monkees were that kind of group; from the moment the show first aired you felt like you could invite them over for a burger and a game of catch and they’d be thrilled to come. That was their image at least and for me it worked.

The Monkees will always be my personal all-time favorite group. Their music spoke to me personally; it was nothing that would ever change the world, but at that age, I didn’t want to! Maybe it was because they came into my living room every week for two years that I felt so at home with the Monkees.

I remember wanting a Monkees shirt so bad and begging Mom to sew me one; by the time she did Monkee mania had passed. With Davy’s passing, I realize I’d still like that shirt.
I have always vowed to never grow up, but on February 29th 2012 a little piece of the kid in me passed away.

Joe: Very sad news indeed. Davy Jones passed away at 66, of a heart attack. I've said this many times: The Monkees were much underrated. Yes, they started out as actors playing musicians. But each one had musical talent, and eventually they stood up for themselves and played their own instruments. Who else had Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Neil Diamond, Harry Nilsson, and Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart write songs for them? They were country rock pioneers, thanks to Mike Nesmith, who also happened to write "A Different Drum" for Linda Ronstadt.

Davy Jones could sing. Like most teenagers in 1966, I loved The Monkees immediately. I was more into 45s than albums, but I did buy their first LP, “The Monkees”. I really liked “Last Train to Clarksville”, but my favorite album track was "I Wanna Be Free".  That December, my first slow dance was in my friend’s basement to "I Wanna Be Free" with a girl named Bellanne. She was cute. OK, Davy was cute too. May he rest in peace, and I thank him for being a part of my life.

Pete: I was a mere six year old when the Monkees first hit the airwaves. I remember watching them with my older sister and liking the music I was hearing. As much as I liked hearing their songs on the radio, it wasn't until my early teens that I started collecting their albums, 45s and other memorabilia. Since then their brand of pure bubble gum music along with a sprinkling of blues, jazz, country and psychedelia have been a part of my life.

Other music genres have come and gone, but The Monkees contribution to rock and roll has withstood the test of time. They don't need to be in the rock and roll hall of fame to be appreciated! Their good time sound will always live in our hearts. Alas, with Davy's passing it only reminds us of our own mortality. If there is a rock and roll heaven, one more great voice has just been added to their all-star line up!! The Monkees made me smile in 1966 and they continue to do so in 2012. I think that speaks volumes. We better all look out, because, like it or not, here comes tomorrow!!

Maria: Dying at such a young age is all too familiar with the sixties performers, but undoubtedly, the music world as well as the fans are going to miss Davy Jones. Such a talented and gifted man; we were able to enjoy his music and the many television programs that he starred in. He was known best as the lead in the group The Monkees. He had a great many talents and was known worldwide. His wife, Jessica and four daughters will miss him very much and peace goes out to them to stay strong and carry on his legacy.

Guy: In 1966, NBC aired a half-hour trailer, Two In A Taxi. Jack Burns and Avery Schreiber offered a preview of the new fall prime-time lineup. Many shows that premiered that year turned out to be single-season flops--if they even lasted that long. An exception was The Monkees, which went on to enjoy a healthy two-year run.

Although in most places it ran on Monday nights, our local outlet, KMJ-TV (later KSEE) showed it on Saturday nights. That was fine by me, it gave me incentive to get through the school week, knowing I'd get to see The Monkees on the weekend. I loved the show, the music, and the guys right away. All four had a refreshing accessibility factor not present in all artists. They could all be guys down the street.

In the days before bicycle helmets were mandatory for kids, and passengers were no longer allowed to ride on handlebars, I cycled up to Triple J Drugs, about a mile away from our house, my younger brother in tow, to buy a 45 rpm copy of "Last Train To Clarksville" with my lawnmowing earnings.

So it later came out that The Monkees didn't play their own instruments. So big deal. Neither did Sonny And Cher, The Four Tops or The Righteous Brothers. Eric Burdon's answer was to just enjoy the record, And I did (Footnote: They did play on Headquarters, their third LP and my personal favorite).

I never got a chance to see them, but my wife Lynda did when she lived in Kansas.

Our sister blog, ModlandUSA also has a post about Davy and The Monkees. Click here.

Some great photos of Davy can be found here, dating back to 1962.

Please feel free to add comments to this post. We’d love to hear from you. Thanks for listening.

Exact Words

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Remember that episode of the Brady Bunch where Greg gets grounded and told he can't drive the family car? So, he drives someone else's car instead, and he's caught. He tells Mom and Dad that “your exact words were that I couldn't drive your car, and I didn't”. Now most parents would have exploded, but Carol and Mike simply say okay, if you want to live by exact words; that's what we'll do! Of course Greg finds it nearly impossible to live by his exact words and learns a valuable lesson!

I am here to report that fortunately my Mother never saw that episode, or I would have spent the better part of my adolescence learning “valuable lessons”!

For example, Mom and Dad tended to throw “adult” parties from time to time, which meant we children were banished to our upstairs bedrooms for the duration. The parties would get rather raucous ‘til a little before midnight when they quieted down considerably, then about fifteen minutes later a new group arrived and things got rolling again!

Those parties went ‘til the wee hours of the morning. Mom and Dad were in no mood to get up the next morning, let alone clean. Instructions were left for us kids to clean up. The benefit to us? We got to eat all the leftover snacks we wanted!

As we got older we also discovered more creative ways to empty the glasses as well, but that's another story entirely. We could have all the food we wanted, treats we could never seem to get enough of, except for Mom’s favorite brand of cheese crackers.  She left specific instructions; they were to be placed on her bureau.

The next afternoon following one of the parties, sitting in the living room with Dad and Sis we heard Mother bellow “who left these crackers on my bureau?” I calmly replied “I did Mom, you told me too”. At that point, I didn't think it possible, but Mom's voice rose several decibels as she screamed “Where the hell is the box?” “But Mom, you didn't say you wanted that.” Dad and Sis left the room so Mom wouldn't see them laughing! Never saw smoke come out of someone's ears before without use of a cigarette!

There were many more “exact words” incidents. One time I was told to draw the shades. Now an artist I'm not, but I thought the picture came out very nice! Or the time Mom ate a grapefruit in the living room and asked me to take the dish to the kitchen. Never said anything about the grapefruit rind!

And then there was the ice water incident. Mom liked her ice water and we kids were usually sent to fetch it. Okay, it's Mom; she deserved having us wait on her but the part that really got me was every time she asked, without fail, we also got instructions on how to make it! You wouldn't think it very hard but Mom had to tell us every time, “Be sure to fill the glass as full as you can with ice then put the water in”!

One day, in the middle of winter she handed me her glass and gave the instructions. I took the glass, went on to the front porch, snapped a four foot icicle off the eaves and crammed it into the glass and trickled a little water down the side and served her! This time she saw the humor in it and laughed and I'd like to tell you she never told me how to make ice water again!

However, she apparently didn't have much faith in our education system and continued to tell me and tell me!

That was a long time ago but it's fun to look back on the memories of our childhood. We lost Mom a few years back and I can honestly say I really wouldn't mind hearing those instructions one more time.

A Creepy Crawler Christmas.

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Our Christmas tree stood proudly in a corner of the dining room. Not sure why that was, since the living room was about twice as large. Watering was never required. No groovy aluminum tree with a color wheel, just a green, somewhat realistic tree. I vaguely remember one year when we had a white one; wonder what happened to it?

My favorite holiday decorations resided on top of the fireplace: 4 felt covered small boxes, most likely homemade, one each in turquoise, red, green and white. Each box sported a felt letter with sequins in corresponding colors, spelling out NOEL. When I was old enough to reach the top of the fireplace mantle, that all changed and the letters usually read LEON, the name of one of my brothers. I rearranged them as often as I could; because I'd giggle every time. The rest of the family tired of my little joke after the first few switcheroos. Too bad.

I also loved the pixies that resided on the mantle, each with their arms locked together in a ring so you could stuff their legs through; optional of course. Their faces had a very strange smell to them, which was worth taking a little sniff of now and again; must have been all the chemicals in the plastic that gave off their intriguing scent.

We had Christmas dinner twice. Well, sort of. A ham on the eve, then off to bed for us kids. Who could sleep when we knew that Santa was coming any minute? I did my usual and read a book and fell asleep with the light on. My trusty pink bathrobe with blue, green and brown flowers was hanging over the chair by my desk, ready for wearing. That same quilted Sears bathrobe was my costume for the third grade play where I played Cindy Lou Who in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that color combination today!

Finally, the time was here! We’re heading downstairs! At seven years old, I still believed in Santa Claus, but not for much longer.

The presents were always so big! And there were always so many. I remember getting a Chatty Cathy one year, and graduated to my first Barbie not too long after. Barbie acquired lots of friends and relatives, Skipper, Casey who had one groovy earring, Truly Scrumptious from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Scooter and Maddie Mod. Many of these dolls sported mod styled clothing which I understand is worth a lot more than the dolls nowadays! Oh, and Barbie’s boyfriend? Ken? Fuhgeddaboudit. She was into that man in uniform, G.I. Joe, in the days before his hair was made of fuzz.

Back to ripping that wrapping; I was always curious about my brother’s gifts. THEY got a lot of cars, which I guess my parents thought was not appropriate to give to little girls. Humph. Then I saw it; a big box that said “Creepy Crawlers” on it. THAT grabbed my interest. I grabbed the box and looked at the artwork and was fascinated by all those bugs on the box. I turned the box on its side. And then I saw it. An orange sticker that said “Grand Way $9.99”. WHAT? Santa shops at Grand Way? No, he and his elves make the toys, right? Uh oh.

I didn’t even have to ask. I knew. But the clincher that completely drove it home came the next day when I heard my Dad say to my Mom “I got the Creepy Crawlers for $2.99; they rang it up wrong.” Oh dear.

Aw, Nuts!

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Some years back when Dad was on his own for the first time in more than fifty years, I would drive to visit him and stay over. It was a long ride. My days off were Sunday and Monday, so every other week I would head out first thing Sunday and return to my own family later on Monday.

We’d usually spend part of Sunday watching a sporting event on TV, just visiting, and of course we’d also include a visit to see Mom, who was residing at a nearby nursing home. And, while there I always tried to take care of some chores for him, even if it was only cutting the grass, though sometimes it involved things like rebuilding the back steps.

There was a problem with the kitchen faucet and the replacement for this particular unit was expensive so my sister who lives about fifteen hundred miles away pitched in and bought him one and sent it. My job was to install it. No problem, shut off the water supply, loosen a few nuts remove the old, put in the new, tighten a few bolts, all done. Yeah, if that were the case this would be a very short story.

I arrived on Sunday morning. Dad and I wanted to watch the football game at 1pm, so I said “Why don’t I get that faucet fixed right away; then we can relax.” The nuts holding the faucet in place were no problem, but the nuts connected to the hot and cold water supply weren’t budging. We tried all sorts of solutions to loosen them, including “liquid wrench”. Seemed like the more I tried to loosen the nuts, the more they threatened to twist that pipe into a pretzel.

Resigned to nearly giving up or moving to more drastic measures, I told Dad there was plenty of room to use a small pipe cutter to cut the pipe above those fittings, then put a couple 3/8 compression nuts on and we’d be fine. So off to the hardware store we go!

Dad lived in a rural area so a trip to the hardware store took a few minutes. At the “Super Hardware Store”, we found a wall full of compression nuts, except the hook with the 3/8 inch was empty. When shopping at the “Giant Hardware Store” in the next town, we found, you guessed it, no 3/8 inch compression nuts! Nor were there any in the next three places we tried.

Finally, success in yet another town, at a little hole in the wall place, “Harry’s Hardware”! We walked in asked if they had any and the man said “Of course!”

Several hours had passed by now and we hurried back home. The game we wanted to see was already started, so I dove under the sink and in no time flat had that faucet working fine. We did see half the game. Though I don’t remember who won, I enjoyed hanging with Dad.

Sadly it was one of the last visits with Dad; he passed away a few months later. Being the nearest relative I traveled to his home with my wife and daughter every weekend in my trusty van, and we cleaned out and packed up Mom and Dad’s possessions and brought vanloads of memories home.

On one such trip, I was packing in the laundry room while my wife and daughter were doing the same in other rooms. They suddenly heard me start laughing; in fact, I laughed so hard that tears were literally running down my cheeks. Finally, they calmed me down enough to ask “What was so funny?” All I could do was show them what I was holding; a cellophane bag with about fifty 3/8 inch compression nuts!

The Turntable

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Proudly, it sat on a shelf in a closet, in silence much of the time. But oh, when it was in use, magical musical noises that came out of that record player! First and forefront were the surfing sounds and tales of T-birds from the Beach Boys and Dick Dale. Sometimes, LPs, but more often than not, 7 inch platters. 45’s were stacked high in several piles directly to the right. Speakers standing on either side. While designed to be portable, the trio of parts were never snapped together and remained stationary.

My two brothers shared a bedroom. It had two closets; one added to the room later across the backside, while the deep, original closet was converted into a workroom / music room consisting of a long sturdy shelf running along the left side plus two stools. Plenty of room to build model cars and listening to groovy tunes while doing so.

Being the curious little sister I was not allowed to touch anything there. That stern rule applied from a little event that happened when I was in elementary school. I asked my oldest brother if I could borrow two records and for show and tell day at school. He gave me “Bristol Stomp” by the Dovells and Allan Sherman’s “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.” Both were unprotected, and sleeveless. I promptly stuffed them in a brown lunch bag though they didn’t quite fit. Good enough.

The records were played at school, but that’s not relevant to our story. At lunch time, I had the 45’s back in the safety of the brown bag. While talking to my friends, getting excited over the conversation, I began slapping the bag against my knee.

Arriving home that afternoon I took the 45’s out of the bag. Both were cracked. That was the end of my touching the record collection until sometime later…

…red spots all over my body prompted my parents to have Dr. Ross make a house call. I remember staying in bed in my brother’s room because the curtains there would keep it dark. My brothers were booted out of their domain; one got the couch, the other got my room.

Both brothers felt sorry for me. I was granted special permission to play records to cheer me up and received a lesson on how to properly operate the sound machine. This was very exciting! The next day, I spent considerable time going through the stacks of 45’s; many of them were unfamiliar to me.

Finally, I selected one and played it. The sweet vocals swayed me and the thought of the places I could go was spurred on by the melody and vocals. For three minutes, I soared.

I only played one record that day and left it on the turntable. My brothers came home from school. Both noticed the 45 I had left there and laughed and laughed at me. My spirits were crushed from their ridicule and I never played another record on that turntable again.

Soon after, I got my first turntable and started my own collection; so hey, who needed theirs?

To this day I wonder; if that 45 was in their collection, what did they find so funny about it? Was it given to them and not something they would have chosen? I’ve never asked; doubt either of them would even remember this incident. So to this day, every time I hear “Up Up And Away” by the Fifth Dimension, I still ponder. And yes, I recovered from the rash. My parents feared I had the measles. I didn’t.

The Last of the Red Hot Lovers!

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Every community theater director, at one time or another, has gathered their cast and told them “Remember, the audience doesn't know the lines. If you make a mistake, the audience won't know; if you don't let it bother you, just keep going”. Never have truer words been spoken, as illustrated in this story.

The Last of the Red Hot Lovers! That's me! Oh! Not really of course but I did play the role on stage. Playwright Neil Simon wrote this famous tale back in the late 60's about Barney Cashman, a middle aged married man that wants to join the sexual revolution before it passes him by. Barney decides to have an affair and the three act play revolves around his three attempts at having one. In all three acts he attempts his clandestine affairs at the home of his mother who is out of town.

In act one Barney brings home Elaine Navazio, a woman who’s a bit brassy and far more worldly than he; she likes cigarettes, whiskey and other women's husbands!

Now, I am by no means an overly large man, at the time I was 5'10” and about 220 pounds, however next to the lady cast to play Elaine I was Andre the Giant!

At one point the script calls for Barney to grab Elaine in a passionate embrace and kiss just as she inhales from her cigarette and they fall onto the sofa and after he releases her she exhales! Audience laughs and we move on. We rehearsed this many times so that we would land in such a way that I didn't crush Elaine and felt we had it perfect.

This was a community theater show and someone had allowed us the use of a period style sofa with the metal tubes and orange cushions.

Come opening night we had a decent crowd. The theatre was about half full, which is good for a community theatre opening night.

All was going well until we came to the “clinch scene”. As luck would have it, when we fell onto the sofa, my shoulder hit the back cushion and the whole back fell off and us with it!

Are you familiar with the term head over heels? Why isn't it heels over heads? It certainly was that night! The poor lady playing Elaine had her dress around her waist; we were mortified! But we were also community theatre veterans and we knew we had to soldier on. However, the audience thought it was part of the show and roared with laughter! We kicked away the parts of the sofa that had fallen, arranged ourselves as best we could, and continued on with the show.

Our stage crew miraculously pieced the sofa back together and we prepared for the next nights show. The theatre was packed to capacity; many of the people that were there the first night were there again. They had to bring in extra chairs from a business next door and still it was standing room only.

While mingling prior to the show, the director was speaking to someone he recognized as having attended the first show and said something to the effect of “you must have really enjoyed yesterday's performance” The patron replied “It was great! But we came back just to watch them fall off that sofa again”!

By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Down at Auntie Annie's

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The same river but just slightly upstream

By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Did you get shuffled off to relatives during the summer? I did. Our family always spent some time down the shore in the hot weather, however, for a couple of summers I also got to go spend time with Auntie Annie and Uncle Jack, who lived about 45 minutes away.  Guess Mom needed a break!

I don’t remember Uncle Jack ever saying that much. He was well known for the red clam chowder he cooked up; a dish I had no appreciation for when I was young. I can still taste it though, and my adventurous adult taste buds would enjoy a bowl of it right now. Uncle Jack’s job had something to do with seafood deliveries and I learned in my teen years that all the shrimp my family consumed when I was growing up “fell off the truck”, according to my Dad.

Auntie Annie loved playing board games with me. I remember her copy of the game Clue. The board was only three colors, light yellow, maroon, and gray, rather drab compared to the full color version I had at home. We also played a game called Careers that had interesting professions including Uranium Expedition, Go to Sea, and Go to the Moon.  Today, I have a vintage copy of that game, the exact same edition, and I still play it.

Spoiler alert, or rather, spoiled child alert: I was allowed to stay up late and watch Dick Cavett with my Aunt and Uncle. To this day, I can instantly recognize Dick’s incredible voice, yet I can’t tell you anything about his show.

My Aunt and Uncle had a small menagerie, including a very shaggy dog, Bipper, who was fun to run around the yard with, and a pen with Guinea Hens in it. The hens held my attention for about all of 15 seconds.

I quickly made friends with a girl across this street, Lois, who had her very own Easy Bake oven, a toy I always wanted but it never showed up under the Christmas tree. We’d cook up a storm in her rec room.

But there was more to my visit than a toy baking device and late night TV viewing.

The back yard was deep and seemed to go on forever, however it eventually ended at a river. A gurgling, fresh, clean, sparkling, mostly shallow body of water with lots of smooth rocks, perfect for practicing skimming; a skill I never quite grasped. My brothers seemed to be more talented at it than me. Guess it’s a guy thing.

One day when I was by the river with one of my brothers. We started playing by skimming the rocks but that only brought on boredom. One of us elevated the action by throwing the pebbles into the water, bypassing the skimming.  This new twist soon evolved into a game of who could make the bigger splash. My competitive nature spurred the challenge on. Now, I don’t recall which one of us was more adventurous, but eventually a stone wall, where the rocks were loosely piled up, became a source of ammo. The “game” had truly escalated when the splashes were created by objects that rivaled the weight of bowling bowls.

Then Uncle Jack saw what we were doing. OOPS.

Now, if there was severe punishment involved, I would have remembered that, right? So let’s assume that we merely received a stern warning. And we weren’t told to fish the rocks out of the river either!

I’m thinking that if anything, we were secretly applauded for our creativity. At any rate, I’m glad to have such wonderful memories of those summer visits with my Aunt and Uncle.