Boogie in Walsenburg

 In 1971 after I got out of the Army, I drove out to Trinidad, Colorado to visit my brother, Chuck. He was living with a couple of his friends in a geodesic dome house that they built themselves. After I had been there a couple of days, Chuck said, "Tomorrow is Saturday so we need to check out Boogie in Walsenburg. It's only about 40 miles north of here" 

Apparently there was a commune of hippy musicians living in the hills outside Walsenburg, Colorado. They would come to town on Saturday evening to play music in one of the bars there.

We arrived at the bar where the music was supposed to happen at about 8:30. It was a long older building that was fairly narrow with high ceilings, wooden floors, and several neon Coors signs decorating the walls. Six slowing turning ceiling fans made a valiant attempt to keep the place cool. A long bar, well worn from many years of supporting elbows, lined the first third of one wall. In the back of the room there was an old, slightly out of tune, upright piano.

Around 9 pm the hippy musicians started arriving. They moved some tables out of the way to make room for their instruments, speakers, and amplifiers and moved enough tables to make a small dance floor. While they were setting up and getting tuned up, the customers started wandering in. A little before 10 pm when they were ready to start playing, there must have been about 70 people in that bar.

They started out playing Jimi Hendrix's "Red House" followed by numbers from Pink Floyd, Cream, some old blues standards and a couple of their original songs. They did an expecially nice version of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb".

After about an hour of playing they stopped to have a beer and take a break. While they were taking a break, a middle aged woman with grey hair sat down at the piano. She started playing a really smokin' 12 bar piano boogie. The guys in the band put down their beers and joined in.

People in the bar moved some tables out of the way so there was more room for dancing and for the next 15 minutes, that place really rocked! When they finally stopped, the woman playing the piano, the guys in the band, and those dancing all broke out in raucous laughter. 

The band good naturedly took requests from the people there and managed to play every request well. One middle-aged woman whose father had recently died, went up to the band and asked if they could play "Amazing Grace" for her. A woman standing near her offered to do the singing.

The woman singing was apparently part of a local church choir and had an amazing contralto voice. I've heard "Amazing Grace" many times before and since, but never like the way it was done that night. By the time they finished I don't think there was a dry eye in the place. The woman who requested the song went up to the band with tears streaming down her face and thanked them from the bottom of her heart.

Later in the evening, a man about 70 years old walked up to the band carrying a violin case and asked if he could join in. The guys in the band said, "Sure, just start playing whatever you like and we'll join in." What followed was about 30 minutes of great blue grass music with a killer fiddle player.

That night I heard everything from blues to blue grass. I'll always be grateful to my brother for introducing me to Boogie in Walsenburg. It was America at its most tolerant, inclusive best.

Finding Queers

Years ago I was living in Omaha Nebraska and working as an over the road truck driver. I spent about a year hauling a load of pork every week from the Rath meatpacking plant in Waterloo Iowa to a meat wholesaler in Ogden Utah. Later, after I got married, I got a job driving a gasoline tanker for Mobil Oil delivering to gas stations throughout the greater San Francisco bay area.

One evening, about 9pm, I was delivering gas to a station on Van Ness Ave in San Francisco when a family in an Oldsmobile with Iowa plates pulled into the station. The driver, a man in his late forties, got out of the car, walked over to me, and asked, "Where do we have to go to see all the queers?"

I said, "You might try Waterloo Iowa. There used to be a notorious gay bar there just outside the entrance to the Rath meatpacking plant."

Itemized Bill

When I was in high school my father told me about a town in Nebraska that had a sewage treatment plant that wasn't working correctly. None of the people tasked with operating the plant could figure out what was wrong.

Finally in desperation the town called in a consultant in the hopes that he could solve the problem. When the consultant got there, he spent about an hour walking around the sewage treatment plant checking everything out. He then picked up a big hammer from a workbench and walked over to a large steel gate valve. He gave the valve a big whack with the hammer and the plant started working again almost immediately.

A few weeks later the city received a bill from the consultant for $10,000. That was real money back then and the mayor was incensed when he found out. He said, "All the guy did was walk around the plant for an hour and then he whacked one valve with a hammer. Why should we have to pay $10,000 for that? Send that bill back and demand that it be itemized!"

Several weeks later the town received this itemized bill from the consultant:

 

• One whack with a 24 oz. ball peen hammer - $1
• Knowing what to whack - $9,9999

 

The town paid the itemized bill.

Elevator Search

When my friend, Jake, and I finished Officer Candidates School, we both went to Military Intelligence school at Fort Holabird in Baltimore Md. The course lasted 4 months so we rented an apartment on the fourth floor of an older building in downtown Baltimore.

The apartment  had an elevator, but it was an old elevator that didn't have modern buttons to select your floor. It had a nice old elevator operator who would start and stop the elevator manually. The elevator had a big handle which he would push forward to go up and pull back to go down. To stop he would put the handle in its default middle position. There was a lot of lag between where the handle was moved to and how the elevator responded. He rarely ever managed to stop right on the target floor. If he was too high he would go down a bit. If he was too low he would go up.

This back and forth would go on until he got it right or just gave up and said, "Please step up or please step down."  Jake and I would regularly place bets on how many tries it would take for the elevator to stop at our floor.

It was an elevator variation on the binary search.

Skirting the issue

When I worked for Juniper Networks, the office of the founder, Pradeep, was in the same area as our group of engineer's desks. Rafaella, an attractive Italian woman in her early 40's, was his administrative assistant and was very good at her job. She always wore very classy, office appropriate attire and always wore slacks.

One morning I met her in the hall near the breakroom and saw she was wearing a very nice dark gray skirt that went almost to the floor. I said, "Rafaella, what's the special occasion you're wearing that nice ankle-length skirt for?" She said, "When I was in Pradeep's office a couple of days ago he complained about me always wearing slacks. He wanted to know why I never wore skirts. So," she said with a mischievous smirk, "I'm wearing a skirt today."

Loading Dock Ballet

Once I had to deliver a load from Iowa to a large warehouse in Los Angeles. The warehouse loading dock was almost half a block long with about 20 trucks in the process of getting loaded and unloaded. I backed my truck into the dock and waited for my turn to get unloaded.

While I was waiting, I watched as a man in his fifties went about loading and unloading trucks using his electric pallet jack. He moved with a casual grace shifting his body from side to side as he maneuvered pallets in and out of the trucks and the warehouse. He had a serene, confident look and moved with a gentle rhythm.

It was almost as though his moves were choreographed to music that only he could hear and I was watching a loading dock ballet.  

On Target

Last night I was doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen while chatting with my wife, Lan, who was relaxing in the dining room. I was about finished and had just put the kitchen garbage can in the middle of the kitchen floor when Lan stood up. She wadded her napkin into a ball and threw it right into the garbage can in the kitchen.

She got a sly smirk on her face and said, "Not bad for an old lady, right?"

Happy News

Last week my wife, Lan, and I were watching a Vietnamese TV channel when the commercials came on. At the beginning of the first commercial the voice-over announcer enthusiastically proclaimed, "Tin vui! Tin vui!" This was followed by the rest of the ad.

At the next break a completely different commercial started with the same, "Tin vui! Tin vui!" I was curious so I asked Lan, "What does tin vui, tin vui mean anyway?" Her face took on a somewhat bemused look and she said, "It means bullshit, bullshit."

Tin vui actually means "happy news" or literally "news happy" since in Vietnamese the adjective usually follows the noun.

After almost 42 years of marriage, Lan still manages to surprise me with her dry wit and sarcastic sense of humor.

Nice Way to Die

My wife, Lan, has an old friend that just died. We've known Loan and her husband, John, for many years and they've always been very sweet together.

A few days ago they were sitting together on the couch when Loan told her husband that she was really tired and wanted to lie down. She stretched out on the couch with her head in his lap and went to sleep. Less than an hour later she died.

We all have to die sometime, but that was a really nice way for her to die.

Good News Bad News

I used to drive a gasoline tanker for Mobil Oil delivering to stations throughout the bay area. Our main terminal was the Southern Pacific Pipeline in San Jose where we loaded the trucks. The pipeline had several loading racks and the tankers had to wait in a staging area until a rack was available.

One Monday morning several of us were standing around talking in the staging area when Gary from King City pulled in. When he got out of his truck we saw that he had a large bandage on his left thumb. When asked what happened, he said that he bought a table saw a couple of weeks ago and managed to cut off the end of his thumb while using it over the weekend.

My friend, John, said, "Well Gary, I guess you could say you have good news and bad news. The bad news, obviously, is that you cut off the end of your thumb. The good news is you can now use that thumb if you're hitch hiking and only want a short ride."