Word of the day.."Chief"

Today's word is "Chief". When you meet someone today, say hey Chief. They will give you a double-take and you will just smile. Try it. it's fun.

Thinking back on it all.....

When I saw the picture of Rick from when he had returned from Boot-Camp, I went back to this pic that Rick had taken of me just several months earlier. This is when we were 'buds' and it seemed nothing would ever change that. My days were spent working part-time mostly and driving the mesa with Ginny in tow. I soon decided to go to the Colorado Institute of Art in Denver and study Graphic Design. Wow, was that really over 30 years ago? What happened to the time? What happened to Rick during all those years and where was he? Did Rick ever wonder what had happened to me? We re-united via the internet in the beginning of '09 and here we are. The Chronicals have re-capped some of the past and the present in little snippits with a ton of lies and a lot of humor, I hope. I have enjoyed this experiment and would like for both of us to continue for at least a little longer. But, as I hear my wife calling from the other room, I must cut this short, for now. (Does this ever happen to other people?). Peace.

Today I feel....

With Rick at the wheel I always feel O.K.. Rick has a way of taking the edge off an otherwise crappy day. Thanks Rick. Wheeeeee......let's go for a sidecar race. Rick and I would usually win these races because we had no fear and little brains. I still walk alittle funny from scraping the ground at 90 mph. It feels good to be back in the race.

While we’re at it….

Here’s a shot of me just after Basic Training and cook school. I’m thinking this is early September 1976.  I still weighed in at 135lbs.

Picking With Mike

Where were we? Ah, yes. Ft. Lewis, Washington. 1977. I was a dork. (That’s me above from the following story.)

There was a notice posted in August 1977 about “Adventure Training.” It was to be a recreational hike with a small number of people from the unit. It sounded cool to me and so I signed up.

The trail was up the Olympic Peninsula, a beautiful stretch of beach with no way in or out, save the trailheads. It would have been very difficult to bring a boat through. It was one of the most gorgeous and peaceful places I’ve ever been.

Along on the trip was a guy named Mike Buzett (one of those rare individuals whose name doesn’t turn up on a Google search.) I think he was about 24 at the time – one of the older members of the team. While the rest of us humped rucks full of food, tents, etc, Mike left almost all of that behind in order to bring along his cherished Ovation Roundback guitar.

[most of the group on the second day as it rained steadily. It was Washington after all. You can see Mike with his guitar case.]

That first night, we built a fire on the beach and cooked our dinner. A couple of the guys dug clams on cooked them up. Mike brought out the guitar and began to play. He played songs I’d never heard before. Mostly Jimmy Buffett and John Prine, but also Jerry Jeff Walker and other singer songwriters.

I have to say that it was something of a life-changing experience for me. Not in that “Praise Jesus, I saw the light,” ways, but, as an artist, and how I saw the world.

Mike and I got cut off by the tide the next day and, while the rest of the group camped out in a nice little forest service shelter, we spent the night in an old half-shack; Mike picking, and both of us smoking dope.

When we returned to the base, I began exploring the records at the library. I got everything I could by Buffett and Prine and Jerry Jeff Walker, and Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings and all the guys in the whole Outlaw Country movement. I found stuff that Mike had never heard, and as I plyed the records, he would sit and write out the chords while I wrote out the lyrics.

Mike bought an old Cadillac—which he could barely afford to put gas in—and we did some driving around getting high. I remember going with him (before the Caddy) up to see Jerry Jeff Walker in Seattle. We got so wasted, and it was hard to say who was moreso—us or Jerry Jeff. I remember standing on a sidewalk outside a bar while Mike got more drunk in a bar afterwards. I was to young to drink off base at the time. I ended up wandering off and found a ride home in the back of a truck full of G.I.’s heading back to the post.

I’d sure like to know what ever happened to Mike. That’s the way things go though.

Next time: Getting the Hell Out of Dodge: Rick goes to Germany.