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Jinx Beshears; Gil Beyer; Scott Clawson; Sandy Compton; Idaho Rep. George Eskridge; Lawrence Fury; Nancy Gerth, Dustin Gannon; Matt Haag; Nancy Hastings, Ernie Hawks; Kathy Osborne; Gary Payton; Paul Rechnitzer, Boots Reynolds; Lou Springer; Mike Turnlund
“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.� Aristotle Proudly printed at Griffin Publishing in Spokane, Wash. 509.534.3625 Contents of the River Journal are copyright 2012. Reproduction of any material, including original artwork and advertising, is prohibited. The River Journal is published the first week of each month and is distributed in over 16 communities in Sanders County, Montana, and Bonner, Boundary and Kootenai counties in Idaho. The River Journal is printed on 40 percent recycled paper with soy-based ink. We appreciate your efforts to recycle.
August 2012
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4. A SHORT TOUR OF SANDPOINT’S BYPASS Long in the making, does it measure up to its hype?
15. FIREWISE LANDSCAPING Nancy points out that this season of heat means fire danger come fall. GET GROWING
5. WALKING TOUR OF SANDPOINT Local teenager introduces visitors and locals to area history
16. CLINIC OFFERS LOCAL CARE TO VETS Gil reports on a local resource for health care for veterans. VETERANS’ NEWS
6. SURVIVAL GUILT RELATED TO PTSD Local veteran calls for more support to current vets. 7. THE PLAY’S THE THING Montana Shakespeare in the Parks brings “Hamlet” to Heron 8. THE BEAUTY IN WALLS Meet Sandpoint photographer Marie Dominique-Vedier 10. A MOUNTAIN DRIVE A trip into the high country shows Jinx she’s met the man of her dreams. JINXED 11. WINNERS Lou finds the best in both books and politics. CURRENTS 12. THE HOUSE FINCH Michael says it’s a ‘sweetheart of a bird.” A BIRD IN HAND 13. TOP OF THE WORLD If you’re looking for beauty, go up. THE SCENIC ROUTE
17. ADVENTURES IN FOOD A recent trip to Cleveland (yes, really) takes Ernie out of meat-and-potatoes land. THE HAWK’S NEST 18. BI-NATIONAL ACTION PLANS When it comes to generating power, PNWER’s work is never done. A SEAT IN THE HOUSE 19. RICH MEANS UPPERCLASS? Paul questions what he sees as a class war. SAY WHAT 20. CALENDAR Take a look at what’s happening in downtown Sandpoint 21. OH, THE WHEEL IN THE SKY Trish (and family) has a close encounter. POLITICALLY INCORRECT
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22. OBITUARIES 23. CAUGHT IN BARBED WIRE Kathy’s FAITH WALK on the farm gives analogies to sin. 24. THE IMPS OF SANDPOINT In the early years of the Festival at Sandpoint, something strange was going on in Sandpoint. VALLEY OF SHADOWS 25. RESURRECTING THE DEAD A look at the history of the Toynbee Tiles. SURREALIST RESEARCH BUREAU 26. ROUGHAGE Scott’s Hawaiian adventure teaches him new lessons about food. 28. MY FRIEND’S BOAT Boots’ opera singer neighbor decides to build a watercraft. FROM THE MOUTH OF THE RIVER. COVER PHOTOS: Left shows a view from the finally-opened bypass, while at right is a sight from the Sandpoint Walking Tour. Photos by Trish Gannon
THE BEST PART OF REACHING THE TOP IS THE VIEW. WE CAN HELP YOU GET THERE.
14. WHAT CAN YOU FIND IN OUR LAKE? Maybe not the Pend Oreille Paddler, but Matt says there’s still plenty of interest. THE GAME TRAIL
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
A Short Tour of Sandpoint’s Bypass
After a number of decades of complaints, concerns, promises and plans, a bypass of the city of Sandpoint opened in July, and I had to take a tour. Coming from Clark Fork on Highway 200, the introduction to the bypass occurs roughly at the intersection of highways 200 and 95, with a (probably) trafficactuated light. I say probably, because I sat there for a bit with no other traffic, but not for a long bit, before the light changed and I was allowed to turn left and enter. It’s a bit of a steep climb to the bypass route, but once on there, it takes— somewhat astonishingly—around a mile to reach the ‘exit’ for Sandpoint which dumps you into the south end of town. The views to the right, of Sand Creek and the back end of Sandpoint, are really quite beautiful. Though complaints have been made about the need to ‘beautify’ the back end of Sandpoint businesses along First Ave—which are now the primary view of those who drive the bypass—trees and water take up the majority of the view. At any other time of the year, this might not be the case, but for right now, the looking isn’t too bad. The same can’t really be said for those traveling south looking toward Lake Pend Oreille. I drive a little car, and for those like me, the lake is mostly not visible at all... though the hulk of Seasons at Sandpoint certainly is. These buildings are simply not to my taste, though others might think they’re lovely. What they really are, however, is a poignant reminder
that view property is money property, and unless a community is willing to pony up to reserve that for all its people, it will be limited to those who can pay to enjoy it. Lucky for all of us who live here in North Idaho, or who travel through it, most of our “coastline” is still relatively undeveloped. That said, major kudos should go to those who persisted in the attempt to add a bike path to the bypass. Though time constraints prior to deadline prevented me from walking it, the parts that were visible suggest that at least some of the gorgeous waterfront property in Sandpoint will still be visible to the regular Joes who live here... as long as they can bike or walk the distance. Although travel on the bypass is short (little more than half the length of the Long Bridge), there’s still a little time to appreciate the views, given it has (inexplicably to me) a 45-mile-an-hour speed limit. I crossed the Long Bridge to turn around and experience the bypass from the point of view of those traveling north. We who live here are long familiar with where the exit is to leave the highway and enter downtown Sandpoint proper, but it’s hard to say whether visitors will realize the exit is there. The signage for the bypass leaves one to wonder if cost was based on the size of the lettering— could “Sandpoint” have been written any smaller? In addition, don’t expect any of those typical, helpful highway signs that
tell you here is a place with restaurants, gas stations, hotels, etc... they’re not there. There is one sign that tells travelers, however, that Sandpoint is home to a hospital. Coming from the south, the views of City Beach are delightful (as they are when traveling south, as well, though it’s more difficult to see from the other side of the roadway). But as far as promoting Sandpoint goes, the views are a little too late from either direction. Once you see City Beach and how attractive it is, you’ve already missed your chance to exit. Going north, you’ll have to continue another mile, and then figure out how to get back. Southbound travelers must cross the full 1.76 miles of the Long Bridge before their first chance to turn around and come back. On the northbound leg, I was slightly amused, then slightly annoyed, by the signage that welcomed me to “Ponderay—the little city that could.” I believe there were three signs I passed as I traveled north, and by the third, I found myself thinking, “oh, geez, enough already.” Businesses in Ponderay probably appreciate those signs, however. There are no signs welcoming the driver to Sandpoint, of course, as the whole point of this road is to bypass Sandpoint. Should you need to pull off the road, be aware that the shoulders are less than generous. I drive a Geo, and when pulling off to the side to take pictures, I was wary of a driver taking off my door should I open it. It will be interesting to see how this road travels in the wintertime. Think another Long Bridge. The big argument in favor of the bypass, of course, was to get unnecessary traffic out of downtown Sandpoint. My driving experiment took place between 9 am and 10 am on a Wednesday morning, which may or may not be indicative of the overall impact. Interestingly, however, there were more cars downtown than there were on the bypass. In addition, while attempting to cross Fifth Avenue at the Panhandle State Bank Building, I waited on three trucks (a double-trailer gravel truck, a flatbed hauling a large Cat, and a flatbed full of port-a-potties) which somewhat argued against the idea that a bypass would “get all the truck traffic out of town.” Nonetheless, the bypass is now here to stay, and we can all hope that it lives up to its promises, and that those “in charge” continue to work to improve traffic flow in Sandpoint.
Trish Gannon
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
Take a Walking Tour of Sandpoint
At 16 years of age, Joel Smith is an unlikely entrepreneur. The lanky (6’4”), homeschooled teenager, with his laid-back attitude and quiet charm, got hooked on Sandpoint’s history, however, after spending some of time on Sandpoint. com’s collection of historical articles (written by the late Bob Gunter), and at his father’s suggestion, decided it was time to start offering walking tours of some of downtown Sandpoint’s historic sites. “I only scratch the surface of what’s there,” Joel said, and it’s true—local history buffs are not going to discover anything new or amazing. But for the visitor, newcomer or resident of the area who doesn’t know much of its background, Joel’s one-hour tour is a delightful introduction to the history of Sandpoint. (It’s delightful for history buffs, too.) The tours start at the old Panhandle State Bank Building, now the Sandpoint Chamber of Commerce (among other things), located at the corner of Third and Oak across from Farmin Park, and leads visitors to the Cedar Street Bridge, the historic buildings along First Avenue (including the Panida Theater and the now-community center), over to the Old Power House and along the boardwalk to visit City Beach (and the site of the original town of Sandpoint). Then it’s back toward Farmin Park, where tour-goers can gaze on the new statue of David Thompson erected outside U.S. Bank and reflect on a little of the history that’s occurred since he first entered this area with his sextant and telescope and drew those painstakingly accurate maps that laid out for the rest of the world the mysteries of the Pacific Northwest. Despite the opening of the bypass, travel through downtown Sandpoint is still marred by loud vehicle noise... on our 11
am tour, gravel trucks, motorcycles, diesel pickups, delivery trucks and more made it difficult to hear what Joel had to say. And while he provides some pretty basic information on the history of the area, one still doesn’t want to miss the humorous and/or interesting anecdotes he peppers throughout his lecture. Despite his youth, by the way, Joel gives his talk almost entirely extemporaneously, referring only rarely to his clipboard of notes. While the focus is on what historic structures remain to us, Joel also briefly marks some of the original pioneers who came to this area and created this town: Finan McDonald, who he notes is credited with naming Lake Pend Oreille; Jack Waters, builder of the MacFarland House (considered to be the finest house of its time in town), who died after being accidentally shot in the arm by a ricochetting bullet near the slaughterhouse; the gentleman who drove his automobile onto the ferry and continued on off the other side, into the lake; the aforementioned David Thompson; and more. If my own experience is indicative, then Joel’s tours appeal to both the tourist and to the resident who would like to learn more about this area. And did I mention this tour is free of charge? Businesses sponsor Joel’s effort (Finan McDonald downtown is the major sponsor) and others buy advertising in the short guide he offers at no charge to tour-takers. The Bonner County Museum has also supported his efforts, and has allowed him to use some of their historic photos
of the area within the guide. In return, Joel encourages tour-takers to visit the museum to learn more of the buildings, people and events he talks about. Joel maintains a website for this effort, SandpointWalkingTours.webs.com, that lists the times of tours. Currently, he’s running tours Monday-Friday, and the typical tour takes about an hour to complete. Be aware, this is Sandpoint— times can change. My 10:30 tour turned into an 11 am tour. So give Joel a call at 208-946-9446 to reserve a place and confirm the time. Enjoy this tour while you can, as Joel will be returning to full-time schooling in September; it’s well worth the effort, whether you’re new to the area or have been here a while. You’ll get another view of this place that Rand McNally named one of the most beautiful small towns in the USA. Some tour tips? Walk close to Joel to hear what he says... traffic noise is still terrible. It’s hot out there. If the heat/sun bothers you, bring a parasol (or umbrella). You might want a bottle of water as well. Don’t forget your camera. While I managed to take a large collection of photos of invasive tansy growing on government property, to send to Brad Bluemer at the County Weed Dept., Sandpoint offers a number of views that just beg to be preserved. Wear comfortable shoes. The path taken on the tour is in good condition, but you are walking for an hour. Tip well. This young man is doing a great job at promoting our history. Trish Gannon
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
Survivor Guilt Related to PTSD
Aug. 10 & 12 17 & 19
Celebrate local artists in this free-to-the-public, self-guided tour of the working studios of local painters, sculptors, jewelers, potters, glass artists and more! Find out why this is a great arts community!
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With the latest information in the news stating that more veterans have committed suicide than have died in Afghanistan this year, it raises some interesting questions/thoughts. According to the June 8, 2012, article on page A4 of The Spokesman-Review, “154 suicides for active-duty troops in the first 155 days of the year far outdistance the U.S. forces killed in action in Afghanistan—by about 50 percent more—according to Pentagon statistics obtained by the Associated Press.” And further in the article, “Army data suggest soldiers with multiple combat tours are at greater risk of committing suicide, although a substantial proportion of Army suicides are committed by soldiers who never deployed.” I suggest that perhaps the military needs to look at the effect that Survivor Guilt for non-deployed members of the military has on them, as it relates to this apparent upswing in suicides in the military. For instance, hypothetically, a male or female member of the military trains with the same personnel through Basic Training and then on through Advanced Individual Training. When it comes time for deployment to a “combat zone,” one or more of the group is not sent into a “combat zone,” and as a matter of fact, is not deployed outside of the U.S. (CONUS). The individual(s) then receives reports from the “combat zone” that a number of his/her close friends/
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comrades have been killed and/or have lost limbs, while he/she is safely out of harm’s way. Sure, he/she could have been deployed, but they weren’t. Now, after hearing the aforementioned report, he/she begins to feel guilty; guilty that they not only survived, but didn’t even have to go anywhere near a war zone. This “Survivor Guilt” intensifies to the point where the non combat veteran believes that if he/she had been with their buddies, perhaps they could have prevented some or all of the deaths of their friends. As time goes by, this feeling of, ‘If only I’d been there with them, maybe this wouldn’t have happened to them,” intensifies and manifests itself into something like an obsession. Eventually the veteran suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as related to “Survivor Guilt,” even though they weren’t physically there with their buddies in combat. Question to be pondered: What responsibility does the Veterans Administration have towards these non combat, non deployed veterans as relates to psychiatric care and counseling due to their “Survivor Guilt?” I submit that the above is an area that the VA and military need to look into immediately to see how it does or doesn’t relate to these increased suicide rates, especially in non deployed veterans.
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Page | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
The Play’s the Thing Treachery and Revenge Takes Center Stage in Heron as Montana Shakespeare in the Parks Performs “Hamlet”
The words are entrenched in the American experience, even for many who believe they’ve never experienced the works of William Shakespeare.
lines… lines that have become woven into the very language we speak every day…there are from this play. Okay so I like this play, that’s for certain.”
To be or not to be: that is the question. Frailty, thy name is woman. Neither a borrower nor a lender be. More honored in the breach than in the observance. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
The lady doth protest too much... Hoist with his own petar Alas, poor Yorik! I knew him... Good-night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
As observers fill the baseball field in the town of Heron, Montana this August 18, they’ll be settling in for a first in the 40-year history of Montana Shakespeare in the Parks—a production of Hamlet, perhaps one of the best of the best of Shakespeare’s plays. Murder most foul... There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Brevity is the soul of wit. This above all; to thine own self be true. Get thee to a nunnery, go! Artistic director Joel Jahnke says of this work, “Okay, first of all let me get this out of the way. I think this may be the finest play ever written. The story, the unforgettable and tangible characters, the “rock your soul” human themes, the action, the brilliant language… not bad for starters. As I have been working on it I keep being reminded, how many famous
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Montana Shakespeare in the Parks has a long tradition on the west end of Sanders County, and a growing audience who has become enamored of this late summer tradition. The performances are not only first-rate, but they’re free of charge—all you need to bring is something to sit on and the food and beverage of your choice for a summer’s evening of entertainment you’ll never forget. Jahnke’s production goals for the play are simple. “I will rely on what has worked for me in directing plays for this wonderful company for the last thirty years or so. Cast it well, hire fabulous designers and trust them, cut the play to fit our restrictions of time, make it as
understandable and accessible as possible and trust Shakespeare. He’s never let me down before. “This is a play about so many things but to me this is the story of one young man’s journey. A ‘coming of age’ story if you will. I see Hamlet as a young man.. a college kid. He’s full of angst anyway and then his father dies and his mother hastily marries his uncle who he wasn’t all that fond of to begin with. Almost immediately, we are shown Hamlet discovering the real truth behind his father’s death (from his ghost no less…. what’s not to love about this play?) and that sets the wheels of revenge rolling that can not be stopped until we reach the tragic conclusion. So I want to create a Denmark that is royal, classy and also full of decadence, a Denmark in the late twenties where all these beautiful people must tragically die. It’s a beautiful Denmark but unfortunately, it’s rotten.” The performance starts at 6 pm Mountain time. The town of Heron is just a short jaunt from Hwy. 200—the turn off is located about a mile and a half from the Idaho state line. And by the way... the title above is also from Hamlet. -Trish Gannon Photo: Eliza Stoughton (Ophelia) and Christopher Peltier (Hamlet) in the 2012 MSIP production of Hamlet.
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
The Beauty in Walls: Sandpoint Artist Marie-Dominique Verdier talks Books, Photography and an Art-Full Life Tucked away next to the historic Panida Theater in downtown Sandpoint, the gallery/studio for Sandpoint Photo is packed with vibrant color and art. The husband/wife artistic team of Marie-Dominique Verdier (her friends call her Do—pronounced “doe”) and Scott Kirby cover the gamut from music to writing, photography to painting. Scott—the featured “poster artist” at this year’s Festival at Sandpoint—contributes the watercolors and the piano to the room, while Do’s books, photography and photo studio take up the rest of the space. Outside the studio, Do is beginning to make a name for herself in the field of architectural photography, with recent work featured in Western Art and Architecture magazine. Do has currently authored two books. The Alleys of Sandpoint are where, as is written in the blurb for the book, “time stands still.” New Orleans Walls: Still Standing takes us to the post-Katrina Big Easy and celebrates the indomitable permanence of the human spirit. Both books are packed full of Do’s unique, somewhat haunting, photography. The gallery, the books and the art are much like Do herself: full of more than what you see on first glance. In the midst of numerous projects, Do took the time to answer some questions for people about the who-whatwhere-when-why-how of the artist’s life in Sandpoint.
year’s Festival at Sandpoint poster artist). We lived in the Big Easy for ten years, where I worked in a recording studio before being offered a position at the French Consulate, doing PR, where I stayed for six years—until the premature birth of our first daughter, Sara, in 1998 (12 weeks early). We moved to Sandpoint in 2000, and had our second daughter, Leah-Marie, in 2002. In the midst of all this, I somehow became a photographer! Q. How did that transition come about? A. In the Fall of 1991, I was in a car accident
that put me in a wheelchair for a few weeks. With the insurance money, I purchased my first camera. Photography became a passion. I took mostly “candid” black and white pictures, and learned how to process film and develop pictures the old-fashioned way—in a darkroom. Living in New Orleans, it was just a matter of time before I started taking pictures of musicians, which eventually opened some amazing doors. Several years after moving to Sandpoint, I discovered architectural photography and was hooked. Yet I still love taking pictures of people. Q. You have crafted a beautiful book in New Orleans Walls: Still Standing. Do you feel a strong connection to New Orleans? A. New Orleans is where I met my husband about 24 years ago, where our first daughter was born in 1998, and where we lived for ten years before moving to Sandpoint in 2000. I’ve kept in touch over the years with many friends in the Big Easy. Q. How did your book come about?
Q. Give us a little of your background. Who is Do Verdier? A. I grew up in southern France (the middle child of five), lived in Germany after graduating from high school, then returned to France to get my Masters in business and administration. My first job, however, was as a timber inspector for a French company that took me through a dozen U.S. states. Although I was offered to go to Congo next, I decided instead to organize a tour in France for four musicians I had met in New Orleans while doing an internship. After the tour ended, I joined my boyfriend back in New Orleans, and we were married the next year. (My husband of 20 years is Scott Kirby, this August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
A. It took 16 years or so from the time I shot the first New Orleans Walls images for the book idea to come about. Several years after moving to Sandpoint, I shared with a friend in New Orleans that I felt I hadn’t finished the project. She suggested I visit it again, but this time, instead of using my friends as models, I should use well-known New Orleanians. I had to get over my initial hesitance, and after reflecting for a few weeks, I was ready to give it a try. Having stories in the book wasn’t part of the initial plan, but as I was photographing all these amazing people, I was discovering them through our brief—or not so brief—conversations, and I became fascinated with these individuals who had been through so much. I heard a lot of hurricane Katrina stories, yet knew that this was not the direction I wanted to go with the book. Eventually, I just asked them to share a significant moment of their life. The book came out in February 2010. Q. Your book shares the stories of some of your models’ “most significant moments.” What was your most significant moment? A. Two months after my second daughter was born, I found out I had cancer. The next few months were a trip to hell, with daily doses of chemotherapy and radiation. Needless to say, I was really depressed and wasn’t enjoying life. My father came from France to help us, and one evening when my mood was particularly dark, he took my hand, and just said, “Come with me, I want to show you something that’s worth living for.” I followed him to the room where my baby daughter had been peacefully sleeping for a few hours. She was a very deep sleeper, and we were very quiet, yet she opened her eyes without moving at all, looked at me and smiled, then went back to sleep. I can’t explain it, but I took it as a sign, and from that moment on, I knew I was going to be all right. Q. Why are proceeds from the book going to the St. Bernard project? A. One of the conditions I originally set for myself with the New Orleans Walls project was that part of the proceeds from the book sales would go to at least one non-profit organization in New Orleans. I met Zack Rosenburg, co-founder of the St Bernard Project, through a friend of mine during the early stages of the making of the book. It’s a wonderful organization that has been rebuilding homes for hundreds of families since Katrina hit. The New Orleans Musicians’ Clinic is now another beneficiary, which made sense considering the large number of
musicians who have posed for the book. Q. People describe Sandpoint as an ‘art town.’ Given that you and your husband are both artists, what’s your impression of Sandpoint? A. Sandpoint is definitely on the right path to becoming a great ‘art town’ with all the efforts that are poured into the task, but it’s not easy. Ever since we moved here, we’ve seen several art galleries start and close. Our downtown space is more of a studio for us, and I don’t believe it would have survived solely as a gallery. For a town its size, Sandpoint counts lots of very talented people, as well as great minds to help support the arts, but ultimately we need more patrons.
to the Panida), painting or playing the piano. He offers free music there every Friday night from 5 to 7pm—except during the Festival—with occasional guest musicians. Some of our work is displayed in the gallery. In the virtual world, we have several locations where we can be found: www. ScottKirby.net, www.SandpointPhoto. com, and on Facebook (by looking up our names, as well as Sandpoint Photo). As for the New Orleans Walls book, it is available at the gallery, and also online at www.NewOrleansWalls.com. Alleys of Sandpoint can be purchased at www.blurb. com/books/137106
Q. How did you end up in Sandpoint? A. In 1998, my husband was playing the piano at a speak-easy in New Orleans, and one of the audience members, Dave Walsh (who back then was hosting a radio show in Sandpoint) approached him and told him he had been playing his music on the Sandpoint airwaves. Anyway, Dave scribbled his phone number on a napkin after finding out that Scott was going to be in Lewiston within a few weeks. Two things have always puzzled me: 1) my husband didn’t lose the napkin, and 2) he actually called Dave and went to visit Sandpoint. Of course, he fell in love with the area, and had decided to convince me to move there before he’d even been across the Long Bridge. (He’d played a gig at what was then Swan’s Landing and stayed all night in Sagle.) As we were starting a family, the small town experience was rather appealing. Although I’m always in awe of our surroundings, it’s the people here who have really touched my heart. Q. Your book provides insight into the people and places of New Orleans. If you did a similar book on North Idaho... what do you think would be revealed about us? A. In a way, I already have! It’s called “Alleys of Sandpoint.” Even though it’s not exactly the same, the photos reveal so much about a side of our town that most people don’t get to see. But if I were to create a book about this area that was exactly like Walls, then I would guess the book would be a very spiritual one. I have been impressed by how strong the spiritual side is in people who live here. Q. How can people learn more about yours and Scott’s work? Where can they purchase the books? A. Scott is more often at the gallery than me these days (302 N. 1st Avenue, next
August
21-25
Rediscover your roots at an oldfashioned county fair that won five top awards for the US and Canada last year! Participate in our new “Fair-nopoly” game, or play the Ponderay “Price is Right!” From 4-H displays to horse events, to games and the demolition derby, the Bonner County Fair has something for everyone!
BONNER COUNTY FAIR Demolition Derby Aug. 25 Market Animal Sale Aug. 24
208-263-8414
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page
Jinxed
A Mountain Drive
There is a little problem with having an energetic dog. That energy has to go somewhere, and as we live in a small trailer, the energy can’t be expelled here. Fortunately, my husband Brad is patient and shares my love of taking the dogs running. Taking them out is something that has to be done almost every day. Since the snow has now (mostly) melted, the dogs can run longer and play harder than they could just a few weeks back. Because my knee keeps me from driving right now, either Brad or Stacey hauls the dogs and I up the mountains so the dogs can trot some of that energy out. It’s not an easy task, as you have to be on the look out for other drivers and because Aspen doesn’t know when to quit, you have to force her inside the truck while Sparkles goes bananas on the road. Because I am a pretty spontaneous person, I wasn’t too stunned when Brad hit the first section of snow on the road and just barreled through it. We slid and our wheels spun sideways, but we made it to the other side just fine. Yay! That part was fun and Brad was undaunted and just kept driving. Then we hit the second batch of unmelted snow and ice. “Do you think I should put it in four wheel drive?,” Brad asked, oh so innocently. I didn’t say “wel,l duh,” but I wanted to!! “Yeah, it would probably help,” is what came out of my mouth, which I was really proud of because I’m well known as a smart aleck. Brad, not hearing the sarcasm in my voice, climbed out of the truck and turned the hubs to 4WD. Off we spun into the next bit of snow. Brad was smiling so I let him have his fun. The dogs both love the snow, and were bouncing all over the place. I am not sure why they are so enamored with snow; personally, snow is one of those phenomena that I could do without most of the time. Can’t we just water the mountains to ensure no fires for the summer? Stuck in the snow? Well of course, I mean, why not? This is me we are talking about here. (Our truck is a small Ford Ranger
Jinx Beshears
versus about five feet of snow, slick with ice cover. Stuck once? No. Twice? No. Six times! Six times our tires spun this way and that way and neither of those ways was the right way! Each time Brad would get out and look at the way we were stuck as if looking might magically make it unstuck. “Hummm,” Brad mused, “I just know the snow is cleared right around the corner out there.” Yes, I was staring at him as if he had three heads How do you know the snow has melted up that road? Still, Brad patiently gunned the truck’s gas pedal. Again... stuck. By this time, I was thinking he was definitely a man after my own heart. I have been stuck more times than I care to admit to and here was Brad, willing to go that extra mile regardless of the consequences. I have to say though, the last time we were stuck, Brad pulled through with flying colors. I was quite impressed. We rolled around the corner that he was certain would be empty of snow and lo and behold, it was! Unfortunately there was a tree across the road that we absolutely couldn’t drive around! The tree was roughly the size of my bathroom. Granted I have a small bathroom, but still! Brad got out of the truck to “assess” the situation. He put his foot against the tree and gave it a push. The tree didn’t budge. Then he put both hands against the tree and pushed. Again, it didn’t budge. He put his hand on his chin, as if giving the problem serious thought. He climbed back in the truck. I expected him to put the truck in reverse and begin our journey back down the mountain towards civilization. Instead, I sat in the truck, my mouth opened wide, my mind not quite comprehending what was taking place. Brad put the truck in drive and tried to push the tree out of the road. Did I mention this tree was huge? Did I mention we drive a Ford Ranger? Brad pushed at this massive tree not once but at least ten times trying to move it out of the way. All I could think of is where he thought that tree was going to go if he did manage to get it pushed forward. Wouldn’t it then swing
Why drive to town when there’s better things to do?
around and knock our car off the road... off the cliff that was on my side? Sweat was breaking out on my forehead as Brad looked at me and said, “ I guess that won’t work.” My mind screamed, “Seriously? Ya think?”, but my mouth said quickly, “maybe we should just turn around here.” Again, I felt like I did a great job by not yelling at him and ranting about WWBD! (What would Banjo do!) I might add that at this time, even the dogs were looking at Brad as if his brain cells had cashed out. Brad carefully turned the truck around and we began to head back down the mountain. Aspen and Sparkles were jumping up and down, loving the snow and ice, chasing each other’s tail, not caring if we got stuck in the snow or not. Finally, Brad straightened out the truck and off we started down the mountain. Looking at me, Brad asked, “Are you okay?” I chirped, “Sure, I am!” But my mind was still trying to rid itself of visions of our truck rolling down the side of the cliff, flinging our bodies to and fro. We hadn’t gone but a mile or so,s till a good 20 miles up, when Brad tilted his head and mused, “I wonder if our tires will make it back down?” “What?” I know I screeched! Brad calmly disclosed, “Well, we kind of need new tires on the front, wire is coming out of the tread. Really?! My mind was clogged with verbs to describe his sanity! We came all the way up here, knowing our tires were barely there, barreling through the snow and ice and over rocks that had fallen during the winter, not being able to see the shoulder of the road most of the time, and on these same bald tires he was trying to push a colossal tree off the road with our small truck, worrying me that the tree would roll over our truck, whip us like a twig off the top of the mountain and he just now decided to let me in on our tires being mangled with wires protruding out of the tread? After processing all of that, all my mind could come up with is, Lordy I love this man! Jinx Beshears lives in Clark Fork and is always in search of adventure. You can reach her at jinxbychoice08@yahoo.com.
with offices in Hope at Pend Oreille Shores
Idaho has Direct Access. That means for most insurances you do not need a doctor’s referral and it is your choice which physical therapist you see. So, if location matters, come see us. Individualized treatment with a licensed therapist guaranteed!
Consistently voted the Best in Bonner County
Hope: 610-6611 Sandpoint: 265-8333
Caribou Physical Therapy
Also offering Aquatic Therapy
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 10
Currents
Regional writers are a resource we can draw upon like our lake. There is clarity to a novel that is enhanced when the reader knows the author’s landscape. A crisp, cup-full of snowmelt could describe Train Dreams, by Denis Johnson. Johnson, not generally considered a ‘regional’ author, must live around here at least part of the time. He would not have been able to write Train Dreams with such authenticity if he lived year around in L.A. Years ago, in the old brick-acrossfrom-the-hospital Sandpoint Library, while looking for Tim Robbins, I discovered Marilyn Robinson and her fine novel Housekeeping. This startling story of a tramp aunt and a mother’s suicide is set in Sandpoint. I felt like Marco Polo discovering the source of silk. There is a great writer living in Spokane, a winning writer, Jess Walter, whose books have been mentioned in this column before. Discovered again by accident (Galileo finding the rings of Saturn) in the Sandpoint Library because he is shelved next to Minette Walters—a pretty good mystery writer herself—Walter just keeps getting better and better. His first book—written after his experiences covering the story for the Spokesman Review—on the Ruby Ridge debacle presents a balanced view of the craziness on both sides of the rifles. People wishing for insights about North Idaho and Sanders County could start here (Every Knee Shall Bow: The Truth and Tragedy of Ruby Ridge and the Randy Weaver Family). People liking mysteries will fall for Walter’s Tumbled Graves. Walter’s take on our recent financial meltdown led
Winners
him to write one hell of a hilarious satire, Financial Lives of Poets. Jess Walter’s latest novel, Beautiful Ruins, is the best damn book I’ve read so far this year, and I’ll wager it will win awards. Walter juggles eight characters in the air for fifty years across two countries and makes it work lovingly. Starting in Italy during the filming of Cleopatra, the novel looks back at WWII, then forward to today’s media. Social satire is at its best when Walter dissects Hollywood and reality TV (drunken midget house). In a fine creative and satisfying finale—which Sandpoint folks are going to love—every character, except Richard Burton, comes together. Slightly flawed characters have insights into themselves, and some are shown to have redeemed themselves. The terribly flawed are marginalized. It is a delightful story, well told. With resources like Jess Walter none of us should go dry. Wins: Due to the committed efforts of the Bull River Clinic Board, the clinic will not disappear. Board members Diane Mosely, Dillion Lee and Carmen Compton have secured the sponsorship of Bonner General Hospital. “We are tickled,” said Lee, while modestly soft-peddling the board’s five-month long campaign to save the rural clinic. When the Clark Fork Valley Hospital announced the closure of the Clinic, the news caused great consternation from Trout Creek west to Clark Fork. It is the only medical resource within a 40-mile radius and, as such, is very important to us country people. In addition, Trout Creek, Noxon and Heron people have taxed themselves to pay the overhead costs of the clinic.
DiLuna’s Presents Chris Webber/Nina Gerber
Friday, August 18
Doors open 5:30 • Music at 8:00
Lou Springer The clinic will reopen in the fall under a new, and presumably a more compassionate sponsor. Another big win: Exxon/Mobile has decided that their ‘big rigs’ can, after all, be cut down to squeeze under the interstate bypasses. This whole scheme stunk from the beginning. The oil company balked at paying Canadian wages to build the monster machines (30’ high, 24’ wide, and 225’ long) that will work the Kearle Oil Sands fields in Alberta. In a snit, they went to Korea to have the monsters built. The machines then have to be transported across the Pacific, barged up the Columbia and the Snake to Idaho, and then driven to Alberta. The Port of Lewiston, Idaho, anxious to prove essential to transportation (we need these Snake River dams), welcomed the barged giants. From Lewiston, the scheme was to haul the big loads over Lolo Pass, through Missoula, up the Blackfoot River, and along the Front Range—all on state two lane highways. The whole scheme was made public by a small group of landowners living along the Lochsa River. Outfitters, resort owners and regular folks saw that the oversized loads would create traffic and environmental problems. They formed a group—fighting Goliath—to inform the rest of the world what abomination Exxon was planning. And once the public realized what was quietly being schemed, public opinion—even though both Idaho and Montana Governors supported the plan—stopped the big rigs. It helped that one got stranded atop the pass during winter weather, underlining what a stupid idea it was. Occasionally, the Davids prevail and the Goliaths, whether a hospital with backward accounting methods or a multinational oil company, sometimes fail. Celebrate by reading a good book—I recommend Beautiful Ruins. When not on the water, Lou Springer can be found with a book in hand. Reach Lou at nox5594(at)blackfoot.net
Tickets
$18/advance $20/day of concert
220 Cedar St. Sandpoint 208.263.0846 August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 11
A Bird in Hand
Michael Turnlund
300 Bonner Mall Way • Ponderay
208.263.4272 TUESDAY, Aug 7 & Sept 4
9 am to noon on the first Tuesday of every month. Fun, free events, presentations, games and more!
Ponderay Days August 24 & 25. Come check it out, there’s too much to list! To enter, call the mall office at 263-4272
Shop the Bonner Mall for all your student’s back-to-school needs. One stop does it all!
Collection runs Aug.27-Sept. 27. Cosponsored by the River Journal, the Daily Bee and Blue Sky Broadcasting
Happy Summer 300 Bonner Mall Way in Ponderay
208.263.4272
As I have written in many previous articles, if you want to see certain birds you simply have to go to them. It is unlikely that you will ever see a Clark’s Nutcracker or a Spotted Sandpiper in your neighborhood. You might, but it is unlikely. And I suppose that this is the mark of a birder’s zeal: how far a person is willing to travel, how much time willing to devote, or how much money willing to spend, to see different species of birds. Some active birders will travel wherever necessary to add species to their life list; others not so much. Personally, I’m somewhere in the middle. I spent a week in southern Texas, binoculars in hand, actively scouting out unfamiliar bird species (email me, I’ll share what I saw), but that is only because my oldest son lives in that unlovely part of the country. It was exciting. But would I travel there with the exclusive intent of adding bird species to my life list? Probably not. That being said, it is a wonderful hobby to add bird feeders to your backyard so you can bring species to you. And included among these is the delightful House Finch—one of my all-time favorite species. This is a sweetheart of a bird! How so? Let me share. House finches are relatively common, but also friendly. They will visit almost any backyard and seem to set up a nest in every neighborhood. Granted, the male does not sing as memorably as, say, a song sparrow, but he sure tries. His soft warble has a jaunty little tune. Nor is he as dapper as, say, an American Goldfinch, but still a beauty compared to many other species. And if you put out feeders filled exclusively with sunflower seeds, you’ll be in a better position to get these fine little folks as visitors. So, how would you know a House Finch if you were to see one? Color mostly. As is typical with many of our songbird species, the male is more gaudily attired than the females. This is, of course, all for the female’s benefit as the male risks life and limb in his resplendent attire to win the fancy of the camouflaged females. The House Finch male sports a distinctive red on his head, throat, and upper breast. Otherwise, he is brown and streaked. The female is perfectly nondescript, grayishbrown and heavily streaked. In fact, you
The House Finch: A Sweetheart of a Bird might not be able to positively identify the female apart from her association with the quite distinctive male. Both wield large, heavy, nut-cracking beaks. On rare occasion you might even spot a yellow or orange male House Finch. I’ve seen this coloration only twice in my birding “career.” This mis-coloration is caused by the bird’s diet and is a fairly recent phenomenon. Male birds that feed heavily from feeders rather than wild foods do not receive the red hues that are drawn from a natural diet. I was surprised when I first saw my first example. I asked myself, what do we have here? The House Finch has two cousins with which it might be confused, the Cassin’s Finch and the Purple Finch. To complicate the picture, all three of these species live in our area, but in my experience none are as common as the House Finch. The Cassin’s Finch seems to prefer less urban settings. This male has less red, most of which is limited to the face and head, and practically no streaking on the whitishgray breast. The Purple Finch are more uniformly red than a House Finch, but not quite as vivid. And no, Purple Finches are not purple in color. Prior to game laws that currently prohibit such things, House Finches were commonly trapped and sold as caged birds. Originally this species was strictly a West Coast bird, but intentional releases of captive birds on the East Coast established breeding populations there. Now the House Finch is found almost everywhere in these United States, with only some of the prairie states devoid of its presence. It is even present in Hawaii. Give yourself a treat: if you currently do not have House Finches in your neighborhood then change your bird seed from the generic mix to only black sunflower seeds. Trust me, this will attracted this and other little finches (and less of those pesky House Sparrows!). And then you too will be able to see why these fun little birds are among my favorites. Happy birding! Michael Turnlund is an educator, published author and avid birder. His books are available at Amazon. com. You can reach him at theturnlunds@gmail.com.
Where the Yellowstone Goes - Sponsored by Trout Unlimited Panida Little Theater • Aug. 15 • 7 pm • 208-265-9092
Page 12 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
The Scenic Route
Top of the World
Huckleberries. Ripe to 4,000 feet and rising quickly, royal little gems draw us into the high country. Up the trail they entice us, even while slowing us by their sweet presence, staining fingers, palms, tongues and teeth purely purple. None are saved. We will not be back today—or tomorrow. Maybe on another week we will wend this way again, but there is no reason to do anything more than eat as many as we can and still keep our pace and make our date with that hunk of heaven on a chunk of rock we are headed for. Soon, they lose their immediate allure, morphing back in time to green, hard nubbins hiding in the leaves waiting for time and rain and sunshine to bring them on to edibility. We climb through the harvest and back through time, on nearer to spring that we could have imagined yesterday, when we languished in the 90s and lower elevations. Now, we move through patches of snow imbedded in new beargrass, Queen’s cup bead lilies, penstemon, even an occasional shaded trillium and into meadows full of that bearly-loved treat, glacier lilies. Stem first, we suck them in like green spaghetti until that brilliant yellow bloom tickles our noses on its way to being digested. A little sugar. A little pepper. Bitter and sweet, they mark the poignant regression of snowfields into summer at 6,000 feet. The tepid air is full of subalpine firs’ syrupy scent, pulled by the sun out of forest-green needles and surprising marine-blue cones balanced like tightrope walkers on sloping branches. This covers the smell of our own, well-scented bodies as we climb through a rocky meadow made fiery by Indian paintbrush, punctuated by pungent white yarrow and triad-petaled
Sandy Compton
sego lilies. Afternoon brings the bugs. Black flies, mosquitoes, bumble bees, face gnats (I know no other name for them, except “damnable”) and a mostly benign variety of fly that tries to fool us by looking like a yellowjacket. We are also joined by the first of a succession of hummingbirds which all seem to think my red pack is some huge flower. Now, we are in the rock—beyond the forest and in the presence of the core material of these mountains. Layer upon layer, slab upon slab, it climbs to the top of the ridge above; a stairway built for giants. We look up from our hunt for a campsite, squint past the various insects and an unconscious corporate sigh goes through the group. We flex our diaphragms mightily, as if we are trying to get a head start on the oxygen supply we will need to top that piece of stone tomorrow morning. Camp. Three tents in a tiny meadow surrounded by trees and tiny, buzzing, sixlegged, hungry, flying monsters. We cook and eat with one hand or the other waving in front of our faces. We utter occasional loud and random bad words and once in a while slap ourselves hard in the face, as if we are possessed. No one goes in early, despite the respite on the other side of the tent walls. There is too much to see in a place too beautiful to well describe without at least a million words, for there are at least a thousand pictures within a half-hour’s clamber of camp. You can understand that kind of math, can’t you? Night. Through fine-mesh, high-tech tent roofs, we keep an ancient watch. Big Bear keeps an eye on Little Bear, wearing Polaris at the end of its tail like a homing
beacon. Cephus and Cygnus wave at each other from across the dome. Andromeda’s ancient old mum, Cassiopeia, cruises past, barely avoiding a collision with something completely new—a streaking International Space Station. At some moment between old Sol and new Sol, an old maid of a moon, nearly gone into her dark side, slides quietly up out of the east and begins sneaking across the sky. Behind her come bright Venus and red Mars, riding into morning triumphant on the upraised arms of hunter Orion. Morning. Cooking, eating, packing up, all the while waving like maniacs, we prepare ourselves for the ridge. Before the sun is too high, we begin our ascent; laboring up the giants’ staircase. A merciful breeze rises—sent by God, I’m sure—and the winged demons recede, though our hummingbird comes all the way to the top with us before handing us off to our next tiny escort. We take a break. We take a seat. We catch our communal breath. It is, after all, a breathtaking place. The breeze stiffens and even the most stubborn bugs are blown away. Creation lays spread before us like the most delicious of feasts. “This must be what they mean,” I think, “when they say, ‘Sitting on top of the world.’”
increase nutrients, such as nitrogen and
Council website at tristatecouncil.org.
Sandy Compton’s new book, The Friction of Desire, ($13, 184 pages) is available at Vanderford’s in downtown Sandpoint, or can be ordered at http://bit.ly/FrictionOfDesire. “Top of the World” was first published in August, 2009. Sandy is still hiking to and camping on the top of the world.
Chevron The Scotchman Peaks Hay’s Gas • Convenience Store This septic pilot project is being introduced in order to comply with water quality standards as determined by the Federal Clean Water Act. Designated to protect water quality, the plan, known as a “Total Maximum Daily Load” for Lake Pend Oreille, addresses nutrient issues
Keep ‘em wild.
For our Families, For tomorrow. In addition, many lakeshore homeowners participated in a survey www.ScotchmanPeaks.org in 2007 concerning a variety of water
quality issues. Wilderness As is turns out, their Friends of Scotchman Peaks
Unofficial Historical Society
Oil Changes Tire Rotation by appointment
208-266-1338
August 2012| River Journal Worth - A News Magazine Worth|Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com 21 No. 8| Page| 13 The River Journal - AThe News Magazine Wading Through www.RiverJournal.com | Vol 17 No. 18 || Vol. November 2008 Page 5
The Game Trail
Matt Haag
Have you ever wondered what was swimming around our lake with you? Not the Pend Oreille Paddler of legend, but the tail you feel brush against your leg, or the tug you feel on the end of your line? The likely subjects include the native species such as bull trout (a federally listed Threatened species for which no harvest is allowed), the mountain whitefish, and westslope cutthroat trout (State Species of Special Concern, catch and release only). While there are many other species of native fish that call Lake Pend Oreille home, they are not likely to find their way to the end of your line. We also host several other game fish, such as walleye, crappie, pike, bluegill, catfish, perch and bass, but they are not native to this system. Lake trout (mackinaw) were introduced by the federal government as a game fish in 1925. Kokanee made their way to the Pend Oreille system from Flathead Lake during extreme flooding in 1938. Although kokanee are considered non-native, they provide a vital food source for threatened bull trout. In the 1940s Gerrard rainbows (aka Kamloops) were introduced from Kootenai Lake in British Columbia. The Idaho Department of Fish and Game has made intense efforts in recent years to help kokanee populations recover. Hatcheries trap, spawn, and rear fry for release back into the system to augment naturally spawning fish and help perpetuate resident populations. Important spawning habitat is protected, and lake trout, which prey heavily on kokanee, and have had a devastating effect on populations, are being removed from the lake through bounties and trapping. These efforts are paying off with growing kokanee populations and we saw an incredible number of adults return to natal streams such as Trestle Creek and Granite Creek to spawn over the past few years. Shoreline spawning kokanee have also seen a successful return and our recent surveys have indicated a roughly threefold increase of shoreline spawners. In addition, kokanee are utilizing spawning habitats that have not been used in recent years, signifying a saturation of traditionally used sites. Native and non-native were living somewhat harmoniously until a
What Can You Find in our Lake? multitude of events occurred. In the late 1950s the Cabinet Gorge and Albeni Falls dams were built, and the naturally fluctuating water levels in Lake Pend Oreille were manipulated for power generation. In 1965 the US Army Corps of Engineers began manipulating lake levels, impacting the survival of shoreline spawning fish, such as kokanee. In the late 1960s mysis shrimp were introduced, allowing lake trout populations to explode, thereby throwing off the delicate balance that existed prior to their arrival. Shoreline alternations, such as docks, riprap and boat houses, provide hiding cover for predatory fish that prey on young native fish. A more recent proliferation of septic systems, increased runoff, and the introduction of fertilizers and excess nutrients potentially changes water quality in the near shore area and increases algae that can ultimately deplete the amount of available dissolved oxygen fish depend on to breath. Cold water species, such as those native to Lake Pend Oreille, are impacted disproportionately because they require higher levels of dissolved oxygen. So how is this connected to fishing and what does fishing mean to Bonner County and the people of Idaho? For one thing, in 2003 400,824 people bought fishing licenses and/or permits which in turn generated over $437.6 million in retail sales. In Bonner County alone there was an estimated $25 million spent on fishing trips, $18 million on Lake Pend Oreille with $7 million on food, beverages and motels. In Bonner County a healthy fishery leads to a healthy economy and we ask everyone to help keep our waters clean and fish populations healthy. How do my actions around the house affect the lake? All living things depend on their ecosystem to provide basic life necessities such as food, shelter, and oxygen to breath. Fish need oxygen to survive and they depend on their aquatic environment to provide it. As water moves past their gills, microscopic bubbles of oxygen in the water called dissolved oxygen (DO) are transferred from the water to their blood. There are many factors that affect the amount of DO in the water. Cold water holds more DO than warm water, and as waters warm, less and less DO is
available to the fish living there. The DO concentrations change seasonally with runoff, temperature changes, the decomposition of aquatic plants, and pollution level along with lake depths. Pollution, sewage, lawn clippings, eroded soils, and runoff entering the lake contribute nutrients that stimulate the growth of organic matter, causing a decrease in DO concentrations available to resident fish. Eutrophication exacerbates the decrease in DO in the lake by adding organic matter to the system, which accelerates the rate of oxygen depletion in the colder, deeper portions of the lake. Cold water species, such as native Bull Trout, which are federally listed as Threatened, and the Kokanee they depend on, can tolerate temperatures up to 70 degrees. In addition to a lower availability of DO as water warms, trout have difficulty using the oxygen that is present in the water even if concentrations are high when water temperatures are above 75 degrees. During different life stages, fish require different levels of DO in the water. Allowing excess sediment to enter the water not only causes water quality problems associated with pH and DO, but can also smother food sources, such as invertebrates, interfere with gills and respiration, reduce places for fry to hide, and by covering spawning gravels. Landowners can take measures that will help keep DO levels in the lake and streams high for our resident fish. Maintaining a buffer of vegetation along the shoreline will provide shade to keep water temperatures low, and will help filter sediment and nutrients running off from upland areas before entering the water. Keeping compost, pet and livestock waste, and lawn clippings as far from the shoreline as possible, maintaining septic systems, and not using commercial fertilizers in near shore areas will also help. It doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t matter where you live; the health of the lake is in your hands. Leave No Child Inside
Matt Haag is a Conservation Officer with the Idaho Dept. of Fish and Game. You can reach him at matt.haag@idfg.gov. or call at 208-946-0671.
Page 14 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
Get Growing!
Nancy Hastings
Our little slice of America has been very fortunate this year to avoid the intense summer drought that has plagued other parts of the country. The combination of high winter snowpack and high amounts of spring rain has left us with a comfortable buffer against raging forest fires. As a homeowner however, we should always be vigilant about firewise landscaping that creates a defensible space, the final piece in protecting families and houses from wildfires. Many used to look at this as merely a “deep forest” dwelling issue. But looking at the recent devastation that engulfed residential developments in suburban Colorado, it’s proven that under the right conditions, any wooded area is vulnerable to the sparks of lightning, a careless camper, smoker, even an automotive accident that could set your patch of paradise on fire. Fortunately, you can personally make many changes to your landscape to reduce your susceptibility of a home lost to wildfire. What you choose to plant and what you choose to remove from your landscape has been proven to make a huge difference in which houses remain standing after a fire.
Firewise Landscaping Consider the 100 foot circle around your home as your last line of defense against a firestorm. If you live on a slope or windy exposure, you should aim for a 200 foot buffer. Select and maintain all plants around your foundation with care, keeping them trimmed low, eliminating dead branches and leaves, and keeping them well watered during the dry months. Stay away from junipers or plants that dry out easily and look to the native plants to serve you well in a beautiful landscape that is also fire resistant. Rhododendrons, lilacs, mockorange, and viburnums are just a few of the gorgeous shrub choices available to plant because their leaves and branches retain a high moisture count, yet require very little water once established and kept healthy. You can still shade your house, choosing from maples, mountain ash, hackberry, aspens and oaks spaced and trimmed at least 10-15 foot away from each other or the house after full growth occurs. Keep only the evergreen trees with thick bark and long needles around your house. Prune all mature tree limbs 6–12 feet up off the ground to keep any low grass fire from climbing up a tree and
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then crowning. Building raised beds with block, rock or brick around the house or edging your 100 foot perimeter with these hardscapes will actually slow the march of fire and serve as a welcome mat of colorful easy care perennials. Even if you have a shallow well, have enough hose or sprinklers installed to keep this essential 100 foot radius from getting dried out. For more information, pick up The University of Idaho Extension free publication : Protecting and Landscaping Homes in the Wild/Urban Interface or go online to read it and many more construction/remodeling hints through www.firewise.org. Nancy Hastings grew up on a 300+ acre farm and now is co-owner of All Seasons Garden & Floral in Sandpoint, She and her husband John have been cultivating environmental awareness and sustainable communities through horticulture for 15 years in North Idaho. You can reach them with garden questions or sign up for classes at allseasonsgardenandfloral@gmail.com.
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Veterans’ News
Gil Beyer
Two big things have happened this past month. One directly affects local veterans and the other is of national importance. But before I get into those new items I want to continue with something I started last month. Last month I introduced you to MSgt David L. Brunstad and his partner Darin. David and Darin currently live in north central Idaho not too far east of Moscow. When they first purchased their home they anticipated some degree of animosity from the residents of this area. It was the summer of 2008 and Darin was a staunch supporter of then candidate Obama. He purchased and erected a large ‘Obama ’08’ on their property near a major road to tell everyone where he stood. One day they discovered that the sign had been ‘modified’ to read “Osama” with paint. Darin corrected that with more paint. Shortly thereafter the sign was taken and was nowhere to be found. The sign was eventually located—torn in half—near an abandoned house trailer. Darin stitched the sign back together with zip ties—he called it ‘Frankensign’—and put it back in place. A while later they received a call from a neighbor telling them that there had been a grass fire. When they returned home they found their sign burned along with much of the field. It seems that someone had doused the sign with gasoline and extended a trail of gas to the road where it was ignited. The burning of the sign was bad enough but when you consider the fact that it was now late summer, the grass was tall and dry and their neighbors had horses in the adjacent fields it could have been a disaster. The young culprit was eventually located and, after apologizing, was allowed to pay restitution and let off with a warning. It seems that the reason he wanted to destroy the sign was not that he was anti-gay but rather that he had been convinced by certain very shrill voices on the extreme right that the President—if elected—would take away his guns. That young man joined the military,
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Clinic Offers Local Care to Vets was deployed to Afghanistan and has started a family. With the over-turning of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ David and Darin have become very active in closing the next gap in obtaining full civil rights for the LBGT community. That gap is ‘The Defense of Marriage Act’, or DoMa. DoMa must be overturned so that full recognition and benefits can be granted to the spouses of our gay service members, so these spouses can have access to all the services that their ‘straight’ comrades take for granted. I wish them both success in all they do. On Saturday, July 21, I attended the Grand re-opening of the Kaniksu Health Services Clinic in their new digs at 30410 Hwy 200E in Ponderay. What made this event important to area veterans is the enhanced and expanded VA presence at this facility. Staff has been increased as have been access to services. It may now not be necessary for local veterans to make the long ride to Spokane for many routine lab and follow-up visits. The flyer that I received announcing this event reads, in part, “Veterans in Bonner and Boundary Counties seeking medical services through the VA-contracted health care clinic in the Sandpoint area will find the expanded facility much larger and newer. Outpatient Primary Care services along with Health Promotion, Disease Prevention and Education services also offered to Veterans. The modern facility will also allow on-site access to VA’s Tele-Health providers at Spokane VA Medical Center, including specialized Telederm services.” I had the pleasure of speaking briefly with one of the Spokane VA Medical Center representatives who was on-site for the opening. Her name is Jennifer AllisonOord and her job title is Transitional Patient Advocate. The translation for this tongue twister is to help—in whatever way necessary—injured warriors leave the military and re-enter into civilian life. I hope to be able to get more information about this satellite clinic during a phone interview I’m scheduled to have in the near future with the Spokane VA Medical Center’s Public Affairs Officer. One of the things I found surprising is that the VA is helping female service members receive both pre- and post-natal care when they leave the armed forces pregnant. Short aside: I wasn’t aware that female service members have the option of completing their service contract or accepting a medical
discharge. For whatever reason many of these women take the discharge and return home not knowing they are eligible for medical coverage by the VA. The sub-title on the brochure on ‘Women Veterans Health Care’ reads, “You served, you deserve the best care anywhere.” One of the main areas of emphasis at the Spokane VA Medical Center and here at the clinic is promoting healthy living through diet, exercise and the free exchange of information. They offer smoking cessation classes and all the prescription medications to facilitate quitting that health-destroying habit. They also promote screening tests and immunizations to help all veterans of both genders live long and healthy lives. Their telephone number for information and to schedule an appointment is (208) 263-0450. I’m glad to see this partnership between the VA and Kaniksu Health Services being expanded. As a last note, I’d like to mention a curious situation that has come to my attention. For decades we have been told that the GOP is the military’s best friend. If that is true, why is the GOP trying to thwart the Navy’s attempts to ‘Go Green’? During a recent major fleet exercise north of the Hawaiian Islands, most of the ships and aircraft were using a 50-50 mixture of standard fuels and bio-fuels (the only ones not using these fuels were nuclear powered). These blends required no engine modifications and the engines operated normally—jets and helicopters included. The Navy has decided that fighting over foreign oil is not in the best interest of their ships, aircraft or personnel. Therefore they concluded that utilizing other fuel sources was prudent and cost effective over the long run. Cut now to the recent passage of the Defense budget, where over $70 million for bio-fuels development by the Navy was CUT from the bill. What was the rationale given? It wasn’t cost effective given the current price of a barrel of oil! This reasoning is specious on its face. If we are ever to wean ourselves from dependence on foreign oil we MUST develop alternative fuels. Be it recycled McDonald’s French fries oil or fermented cactus squeezings, it must be done regardless of its impact on Exxon-Mobil’s bottom line. One last bit of info coming out of the passage of that Defense funding authorization bill. The GOP insisted that billions be allocated for ships and aircraft that the military doesn’t even want or need. These monies will ensure that numerous defense industry contractors will have many years of profitable earnings. And, these people contribute hugely to GOP candidates. I have long believed that the GOP is not the military’s friend but rather they are the BFF’s of the defense industry and Big Oil. Gil Beyer, ETC USN Ret., can be reached at vintage40@frontier.com
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 16
The Hawk’s Nest
Ernie Hawks
My mother was born and raised on a farm in western Wyoming; my dad was born and raised on a farm in western Nebraska. Between 1913 when they were born, until the early 1930s, most of what they ate came from those two farms. They grew most of their own grains and veggies and raised all of their meat, except for some wild game. They grew up healthy with good appetites and knowledge about cooking what they had available. However, this did not mean they knew a diverse diet. Add to that family backgrounds: Mom was a second generation in America Swede. Dad’s family came from England in the mid-seventeenth century and migrated to the Midwest years before he was born. That background also did not lead to an eclectic diet. They certainly ate nothing with fancy French or Italian names. I can boil those first two paragraphs down to one sentence. I was raised on a meat and potatoes diet, no fancy names. As a small child we lived on a grain farm in northeastern Oregon. We grew a large garden; got milk from our cow and beef from the calf we raised each year. For variety we raised chickens, a few ducks and a couple turkeys each year. For more variety Dad shot some pheasants, ducks, geese and sometimes a few quail. We moved to town on my 8th birthday. After that we bought eggs and dairy directly from farmers we knew and had a calf raised by another friend who had the room and Dad still brought in some wild game. Later, my brother became good at catching fish from the river behind the house. But living in town meant there was a little more diversity in our diet. It came from a very occasional dinner out at the local Chinese restaurant, but it was different. What all of this is about is my rather underdeveloped palate for the many tastes available to us from around the world. For example, I did not know pasta, only macaroni and sometimes spaghetti. The many European dishes available never graced our table. Middle Eastern foods never made it out west
Adventures in Food to where we lived. Asian only came from the restaurant downtown. There was my mother’s Swedish background but fortunately for my siblings and me, Dad did not like lefse and lutefisk so those ethnic dishes only came out of the kitchen when relatives were visiting. So I grew up thinking a good meal was meat, potatoes with lots of gravy, and some kind of cooked vegetable. I not only thought that, but liked it. In every other part of my life there was adventure but when it came to food, I rarely ventured away from the familiar. Attempting to expand my culinary horizons was a challenge many friends accepted over the years, but there wasn’t much exploration away from my comfortable table fare. Then Linda showed up. Linda grew up in Cleveland. In her neighborhood there were more different ethnicities than I knew existed and with each came a different gastronomic custom. She has spent several years, allied with her daughter Ana, trying to raise my alimentary consciousness. I must admit there has been significant upward movement, too. I must also admit—I like it. I even know some of those fancy names. Still, a few weeks ago, while Linda and I were visiting in Cleveland, the Westside Market stunned me. I know a little about farmers’ markets and fish markets, I enjoy Pike Street Market in Seattle, but I wasn’t prepared for the Westside Market of Cleveland, Ohio. Westside Market dates back to 1840. The neoclassical/Byzantine yellow brick building it is housed in today was built for this market in 1912. It has a 45,000 square foot interior concourse, with a ceiling forty-four feet high and corbels carved to look like produce and animals. There is room for nearly one hundred stalls inside. Around the outside is a covered atrium holding another 85 stalls for fresh produce. On one corner is a clock tower over 137 feet tall.
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It is an imposing building to approach but what I found inside was mindboggling. The smorgasbord available includes Asian, Irish, German, Slovene, Italian, Greek, Polish, Russian, and Middle Eastern foods. Linda, her brother Bill, and his wife Carol, were at home, very much in their element. Bill and Carol are local and know the different booths, what they sell and which ones are the best. Before we started shopping we ate savory crepes with ham gruyere and spinach. Before that meal I thought crepes were really thin pancakes served with syrup, but the one I ate that day, and liked, had stuff in it I could not pronounce. To take home for dinner they purchased cannoli with marscapone filling, perogis filled with potatoes, onion, and cheese, as well as some with mushrooms or ground beef and onions. They got Guiness chocolate cake and some kielbasa, as well as Polish and Italian sausage. I had no idea what was being purchased except it had fancy names that I had never seen in my mother’s kitchen. Finally, they asked if there was anything I would like. The only thing I recognized and could enunciate was ribs. In an overwhelmed, almost speechless, dazed state I could only point at them. Bill said, “Great! I’ve been wanting to try a new rub, we will take that rack right there.” I was glad he took over and made the order for me. It was an exquisite meal, as well as educational. After we were back home, Linda asked if I could barbeque a pork roast while she was in town. Feeling like doing a little adventuring in the kitchen, I did an Internet search and found a recipe for a pork roast glaze. Looking in the cupboard I saw the only ingredient we didn’t have was cider vinegar. I called Ana and asked if I could substitute something for it. She suggested white wine vinegar. I was off on an adventure. When Linda came home I had prepared a barbecued pork roast with a maple Dijon glaze, and she liked it. I think the sauce used to make the glaze tastes a little like pork and beans, which is fine with me, but I sure like the fancy name. Photo above of Westside Market by rabesphoto, via Wikimedia Commons Ernie Hawks is a writer, photographer and motivational speaker. Reach him at michalhawks@gmail. com, and check out his photos at www.PhotosbyHawks.net
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 17
A Seat in the House
Rep. George Eskridge
The Pacific Northwest Economic Region is a non-partisan, public-private partnership formed by statute in 1991. PNWER includes the northwestern states of Idaho, Montana, Oregon, Washington, Alaska, the Canadian provinces of Saskatchewan. Alberta, British Columbia and the Canadian Yukon and Northwest Territories. I serve as one of the Idaho legislative delegates to PNWER. The 2012 PNWER Annual Summit was held in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan on July 15–19 and included 550 delegates from government, non-governmental organizations, business and academia, working together to address major economic issues impacting the Northwest region. Outcomes from the meeting included reviving the agriculture working group session that will continue investigating ways to enhance the agriculture trade between the United States and Canada. Significant outcomes from the summit also included “PNWER’s continued input on Prime Minister Stephen Harper and President Barack Obama’s Beyond the Border and Regulatory Co-operation Council Action Plans. Prior to the action plan’s inception in December 2011, PNWER working groups had been instrumental in providing regional input for these action plans, which are the cornerstone of North America’s economic competitiveness and security strategy. The joint action plans are designed to simplify the process for each country’s citizens to travel and do business across the border.” Notable speakers at the conference included Saskatchewan Prime Minister Brad Wall and Canada’s Ambassador to the United States, Gary Doer. Both speakers expressed disappointment in President Obama’s decision to delay a decision on construction of the Keystone XL pipeline that, if constructed, would
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Bi-National Action Plans carry oilsand’s bitumen oil from Alberta to Texas for refining. Although expressing his disappointment with the delay in a decision on the pipeline, Ambassador Doer was not as emphatic as Premier Wall in his statements addressing the delay. Premier Wall was quoted as saying “he winced every time during the acrimonious debate in the U.S. over the proposed Keystone XL pipeline when he heard Americans use the phrase ‘dirty Canadian oil’ or ‘extreme energy’ to describe Canada’s oil exports to the U.S.” A Canadian newspaper quoted Premier Wall as saying: “I’ll tell you what I think extreme energy is,” he said, alluding to the Middle East. “I think that is secured directly or indirectly by putting the sons and daughters of Americans in harm’s way—that’s extreme energy ... Energy you acquire from countries where the majority of citizens just flat don’t like you—that’s extreme energy.” Many of the Americans attending the conference expressed support for Premier Wall and Ambassador Doer’s positions on the pipeline and the disappointing delay in arriving at a decision on approving the pipeline. PNWER delivers results on issues important to the region through action plans developed by as many as 20 working groups that meet during the summit to address issues of importance to the region. An industry leader and a government representative chair each working group. Representative Eric Anderson and I both co-chair two of these working groups: I co-chair the Renewable Energy working group and Representative Anderson is co-chair of the Invasive Species working group. The following are some of the action plans developed by the working groups to address significant issues impacting trade and security of our two nations: • Guidelines for sea and inland ports to communicate in the case of a natural disaster or other emergency so that supply chains are not disrupted and operations are able to continue. • Aligning food safety regulations in the United States and Canada • A “two-nation vacation” strategy which will expedite visas for visitors abroad to both the United States and Canada • A “NorPass” which will allow travelers to go from Washington to
British Columbia to Southeast Alaska via ferry using a single Eurail railstyle pass • Creation of a permanent mining working group • Recognition of the importance of Canadian and U.S. participation in the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade agreement negotiations given the integrated nature of our economies. • Explore the alternative of leasing agreements to landowners that have transmission lines or other infrastructure facilities constructed on their property that would provide annual compensation payments as opposed to one-time payments for the use of their property. • Consider scoping a proposal to identify and understand the impacts of foreign ownership of critical infrastructure in the United States and Canada. In addition to these initiatives, the Invasive Species working group, co-chaired by Idaho’s Representative Anderson and Mr. Mark Sytsma of Portland State University, announced the formation of a “Regional Invasive Species Council.” The goal of the regional, binational invasive species council is “to keep invasive species out of the Columbia River and other regional waterways.” The formation of the regional invasive species council will provide the opportunity for policymakers to share limited resources and be more effective in preventing invasive species from moving into our region. The PNWER Saskatoon Summit was an intensive and successful five day summit that identified issues that impact the trade and security interests between our two countries and the formation of working group action plans that will address these issues of common importance over the next year. Thanks for reading! As always please feel free to contact me. My home mailing address is: P.O. Box 112, Dover, Idaho and my home phone is (208) 2650123. I can also be reached by e-mail at geskridge(at)coldreams.com. George George Eskridge, is the Idaho Representative for House District 1B. Reach him at 208-265-0123 or P.O. Box 112, Dover, ID 83825
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 18
Say What?
Paul Rechnitzer
Since class warfare seems to be one of the tools the President is using to win votes it seems timely to take a closer look at the subject. Are we talking about a well-to-do felon who was pardoned by President Clinton (Marc Rich ) as he walked out of the Oval Office? No. Are we talking about that story you found hard to believe? (That is rich.) No. Are we talking about the depth of color in a famous masterpiece? (Shades of red.) No. Are we talking about getting you upset about the amount of money someone else has? Yes. Are we talking about a term the elitist liberals use to elevate themselves? Yes. So that is what class warfare is all about. Is $250,000.00 some sort of a magic number? Getting you so envious of other people who have more than you that you will vote for someone who is going to “sock it to them” as though that will improve your lot? In all my time on this earth I have always known that there were many people better off than I was. At the lowest level they rode the street car while I walked. If I envied them I was wasting my time because it was my problem to find the dime. It is beyond shame to claim you are helping the underclass while penalizing a portion of the upper class. It is
Rich Means Upperclass? condescending at the very least. It does, however, give those in the upper class a warm and fuzzy feeling they are making things better for the less fortunate. When that warm and fuzzy feeling is gone there will be some other ‘cause’ equally deserving of liberal charity. After all, there is no bottom to the well entitlements are supposed to fill. As Americans I doubt there are many who begrudge helping those less fortunate. By the same token you are not spending a lot of time bemoaning the fact that there are many people who have more money/toys/resources than you do. It will always be that there is someone in your neighborhood who you consider more well-off than you. But you don’t let it bother you too much. After all, you watch “Keeping Up Appearances” and you feel Mrs Bucket has a real problem. If you think as she does, so do you. Unfortunately, the major premise behind socialism is that the playing field can be leveled so we will all be equal. In those societies that have tried that system there is always a lot of cream at the top and more people than ever at the bottom. The leaders manage to take good care of themselves in the name of socialism. Communism is very good for the elite and terrible for everyone else. When you begin designating or defining such a group as an upper class you are started down the road to a class dominated society When you hear the term “middle class” you should realize that is a class warfare term. Who defines what class you are in unless you come from a society where class and caste dominate? Are tradesman middle class? Are factory workers middle class? Are professional types upper class? There was a time when college graduates automatically tended to be headed toward the upper class but those days seem to be fading fast. Into what category do ordinary folks fall? Looking up or down at your neighbors and fellow Americans is something we all do. It is called profiling. Does the fact
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that someone else is better off than you cause some pain? In most cases we don’t care that much. As a one time airplane owner I remember well that every airport had many aircraft far better than mine. While there are many airplane owners who have done quite well for themselves, there are probably more who find flying themselves around the country an expensive hobby. Owning a boat is a somewhat similar scenario. So... I refuse to compare. . It is sinful to pit one class of tax payers against the others. If you like the $250K threshold remember it can become $200K in a flash. If you are one who is buying this “level playing field” baloney, take a good look at what those professional football players and basketball players are getting. A per game earnings can exceed the lifetime earnings of most of their followers. There are many other comparisons. Those of us without a Blackberry or iPhone while outclassed are content to live for another day Now taxes should be equal with no free rides. While a percentage of income has overtones of the “ability to pay idea,” we seem to find that approach reasonable. America was founded on the idea we were a classless society. The patriots had enough of the king and queen and the status attributed to those on the inside. Equality was found in that the same principle applied to all. If there is a middle class worth pandering to, there is also an underclass and an upper class. I, for one, have no intention of recognizing anyone as above or below me based on his net worth, the size of my home, my address or variation in my skin tone. I have known and worked with many men of great wealth, none of which caused me any envy or added respect. The men I had in my company during WWII had low IQs and came from poor circumstances and yet they were due my respect and regard. This current exercise in class warfare is despicable. It is the height of hypocrisy and disrespectful. If you are accepting of this approach to solving our financial problems, let me suggest you move to Europe where everyone is class conscious and taxed to their eyeballs. Have a nice trip. Paul Rechnitzer is a well-known local conservative and author. You can reach him at pushhard@ nctv.com
August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 19
Don’t Miss
The Bonner County Fair
An old-fashioned country event
August 21-25 Contests, kids’ events,
entertainment, horse events, displays & more!
DOWNTOWN SANDPOINT EVENTS SANDPOINT EVENTS
August
2-12 Festival at Sandpoint, live music Festival at Memorial Field. Visit www. FestivalatSandpoint.com. 7 Seniors’ Day at the Bonner Mall, 9 to noon, free games, prizes, more 10-12 Artists’ Studio Tour. www. ArtTourDrive.org 10-12 SHS Class of 1992 20-Year Reunion. 1992Sandpoint@gmail.com 11 Celebrate Life Fun Run/Walk, Sandpoint Long Bridge. Learn more at BonnerGeneral.org. 9 am 11 Wings Over Sandpoint Fly-In 208-2559954 11-12 Festival of Quilts, Sandpoint Community Hall 10-6 Sat., 10-4 Sun. 11-12 POAC Arts & Crafts Fair 10-6 Sat, 10-4 Sun. ArtinSandpoint.org 12 Sandpoint Swap Meet. Sandpoint Events Center. 9 am to 4 pm. Every Sunday in August 15 Where the Yellowstone Goes. Documentary at Panida Little Theater. 7 pm. 208-265-9092 17-18 Bonner County Rodeo 7 pm each night, Bonner County Fairgrounds 17-18 Spokane-to-Sandpoint Relay Race, finishes at City Beach. 17-19 Artists’ Studio Tour. ArtTourDrive. org 17-18, 24-25 The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Sandpoint Events Center 18-19 All Gravity Downhill Mountain Bike Race Series at Schweitzer. 208-2553081 21-25 Bonner County Fair 208-263-8414 24-25 Ponderay Days
September
Experience
1-3 Schweitzer Fall Fest 208-255-3081 3 Country Music Tribute Concert. Panida Theater. 208-263-9191 6 First Thursday in Sandpoint, evening events, live music and sales downtown. 7 Rocky and the Rollers, Panida Theater, 208-263-9191
PLUS: Trivia every
Tuesday night at MickDuff’s. Tuesdays with Ray, Trinity at City Beach, 6 to 8 pm. Sandpoint Swing Tuesdays at 6:30 pm, $3. Bongo Brew/Earth Rhythms Cafe Visit www.DowntownSandpoint.com for a complete calendar of events 208-610-8587 Bingo Night: hosted by The Loading Dock, every Thursday, 5-8 pm. Winery Music - Live music every Friday night at Pend d’Oreille Winery Sandpoint Farmer’s Market, Wednesdays 3-5:30 pm, Saturdays 9-1, Farmin Park downtown. Lounge Music with Neighbor John, Thursdays 6-9 at 41 South. Live music, Coldwater Creek Wine Bar, 7-10 on Fridays. Old Time Music Jam, Cafe Bodega @ Foster’s Crossing, 6-8 pm first and third Thursdays. Summer Sounds. Free concert series every Saturday 4-6 pm Park Place Stage Wacky Wine Wednesdays. Di Luna’s Café August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 20 4-6 pm. 208-263-0846
Downtown Sandpoint!
Politically Incorrect
Trish Gannon
Oh, the Wheel in the Sky
My eyes struggled to adjust to the formation I have never seen in the aurora Fear of the unknown is a powerful darkness outside as they focused on the before. motivator, but it generally doesn’t faint flashes of light in the southern sky I went in to post on Facebook, hoping motivate us toward anything given we spread out above my back step. Lightning? others had seen what we had. Joe stayed don’t know where we’re going. So we I squinted, slowly noting the emerald outside, looking for more lights. Not long lash out in anger and frustration, and green tinge to the light. Lightning’s not after, they were back. a difficult transition is made more green, I thought, as the occasional flashes Our excited exclamations soon drew difficult in the process. Look at any public became interspersed with beams of green my mother’s attention from next door, and discussion (or what passes for discussion reflecting off cloud cover. Oh, cool! Northern close to 1 am we had her outside in the these days) and you’ll see this in action. Lights! But what are they doing in the southern driveway, sitting in a chair, watching the The most difficult part (at least, for me, sky? show. and I suspect for others as well), is that Either my eyes adjusted or the “You know, Area 51’s over that way,” as quickly as this change is happening, lights brightened noticeably and the offered my brother, always open to any it’s also happening slowly... it’s the long, action picked up. “Tyler!” I called to my explanation and honestly, there was a slow decline that John Michael Greer has grandson, unwilling to take my eyes from part of me that would not have been at all written so eloquently about. As a whole, the sky. “Tyler!” The wretched child didn’t surprised to learn we were being visited we humans seem to respond pretty well come. Probably fell asleep, I thought. It is by aliens as the lights flashed and danced to a crisis, while slow change leaves us after midnight. More and more lights filled and smeared and twirled themselves like that proverbial frog in boiling water the sky and I was torn between missing throughout the sky. “Well, let’s hope this (which, by the way, is a bit of an urban the show and wanting to share the sight isn’t like the movie “Independence Day,” legend—the frog is smart enough to with my grandson. Quickly I ran inside the I replied. “That scene where the people hop out of the pot, even if we aren’t). I house. “Tyler, come quick!” are dancing and partying, welcoming the suspect this paralysis in the face of slow My sleepy-eyed boy followed me back aliens, right before they get blown off the change is what fuels so many to believe to the door just in time for the sky to face of the earth.” in the Maya’s 2012 so-called prophecies, go crazy. Beams of light shooting up, I have always believed that if I ever saw Armageddon, or FEMA concentration down and sideways. Dots of light flashing anything that firmly suggested itself as camps for American citizens; or even an everywhere. And then the lights, as one, otherworldly—ghost, UFO, mothman—I imminent alien arrival. They reflect our began to spin in circles. What the...?! would run madly in the other direction. desire for something big to happen that “Grab my cell phone!” I said, eyes glued Now I know that’s not the case. Whatever will finally Indicate where we should to the sky, but Tyler wasn’t moving as this this was, there was no way I was going to go, and motivate a real and sustained absolutely amazing, stupifying spectacle miss a second of it. That hour we spent response. unfolded above us. Again, I ran, grabbed watching the heavens was one of the most As I watched the lights all over the the phone and called my daughter in magical of my life. southern sky coalesce into an enormous Sandpoint, waking her up. “Outside, look In truth, I have spent a lot of time these disc and spin in synchronisation, I thought at the lights!” I told her frantically. “My past few months watching the sky. I am these thoughts. While I couldn’t quite god, I have never in my life seen anything a fan of thunderstorms and we have had convince my analytical brain to believe like this! You have got to see it!” plenty, giving me hours of enjoyment with this was alien, I felt the pull of wanting “What is it, Grandma?” Tyler asked, my neck tipped back, watching clouds to—the pull of hoping, for a minute or for and I could hear the fear in his voice. “I spread and lightning flash and feeling the an hour, for some miraculous, magical have absolutely no idea,” I told him. “Go rumble of thunder deep inside my chest. thing we could all point to and say, That’s get Uncle Joe.” Fan though I am, I have spent too much when it all changed. That’s when we knew. But Tyler was glued to my side, afraid time watching these sights. We have had That’s when we went to work. to leave, afraid to stay. We went together too many thunderstorms. The lights? A little time on the Internet to wake up my brother and bring him Our world is changing. We aren’t and a few phone calls revealed they outside to witness. seeing that as much here as elsewhere, originated at Silverwood Theme Park, “Wow,” he said. “Wow.” I walked out but it is slowly becoming more and more where technicians were ‘practicing’ for into my back yard, far enough to see undeniable... the earth we will live on their 25th anniversary laser light show. back over the roof of my house into the tomorrow is not the same one we grew up There was apparently just enough cloud northern half of the sky, to see if more on. We have changed its very nature, and cover in the sky to reflect those lights lights were visible, but the skies over Bee the only question left is whether we can almost 50 miles down the length of Pend Top were black and blank. I turned again live, much less thrive, in our new reality. Oreille to shine in the skies over Clark to the south. “It must be the Northern Coincidentally, our unnatural world— Fork. Lights,” I said, my voice reflecting my our societies, economies, civilizations— As impelled as I was to find the own doubts. “They’re probably all over are changing at the same time and, while explanation, losing the mystery was a the northern sky too but we can’t see coincidences do happen, I suspect the two bit sad. But I still have the memory of the ‘em through the clouds.” It was the only are tied together, though I’m not really mystery... and the memory of the hope explanation that made sense to me. sure which came first. But I believe that that we will, indeed, figure Shortly thereafter, the lights at some level, we all recognize that things these things out before it’s too diminished until only two bright beams are different now, that those things we late. of green were left, shooting from ground knew to be true may not be true any Trish Gannon can be reached at to sky, and there they stayed for a few longer. trish@riverjournal.com. minutes, until slowly fading away, a August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 21
•
PASSAGES
Andrew Campbell FRASER June 25, 1960 - July 3, 2012
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Douglas “Doug” VANIMAN June 30, 1947 - July 18, 2012
www.LakeviewFuneral.com
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Lynford Leslie STEIN May 28, 1925 - July 6, 2012 www.LakeviewFuneral.com
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www.CoffeltFuneral.com
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James Lyle AUSTIN III January 17, 1967 - July 19, 2012
Roy HOELKE September 19, 1918 - July 16, 2012
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• •
Bruce L. CHURCHILL March 28, 1947 - July 16, 2012
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Laura Marion Eldred CAROTHERS November 19, 1919 - July 19, 2012 www.Lakeview Funeral.com
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L. Naomi Ham HAGADONE December 11, 1922 - July 21, 2012 www.LakeviewFuneral.com
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Peter Paul FAUST March 11, 1963 - July 26, 2012 www.CoffeltFuneral.com
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Patricia Gail Wight MORTON August 3, 1955 - July 9, 2012 www.CoffeltFuneral.com
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Paul HART November 3, 1946 - July 9, 2012 www.CoffeltFuneral.com
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Edward QUINN September 30, 1920 - July 15, 2012 www.CoffeltFuneral.com
Patricia May SCHAFFER March 7, 1919 - July 21, 2012
Carl • And they MAY don’t have to—after all, don’t June 24, 1938 - July 21, we Americans believe if it’s ours, it’s ours 2012
and we can do with it what we want? Or www.CoffeltFuneral.com is and we want it, then • Sigvard KARLSSON you have to give it to- us and you don’t, October 9, 1933 July 21,if2012 then www.CoffeltFuneral.com you sponsor terrorism and we’ll •
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Call 208-610-8244 They have ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ and ‘touch the face of God.’
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BySMITH the way, China wants that oil as well.January Remember China? The people who 28, 1929 - July loaned us all that money? China’s oil 22, 2012 www.CoffeltFuneral.com consumption is around 6.5 billion barrels a year, and is growing at 7 percent every • Charles “Skip” CRESSEY year. It produces about 3.6 billion barrels 1948this - math look good to everyMarch year. 7, Does July 22, 2012 anyone? Can anyone other than Sarah • www.CoffeltFuneral.com Palin and George Bush believe we can drill our way out of this problem? Anyone •whoDavid Andrew JUSTICE doesn’t think we better hit the ground May 5, 1963 July 26, 2012 running to figure out how to fuel what we www.CoffeltFuneral.com want fueled with something other than deserves to go back to an •oil probably William “Budd” DUNN September 2, 1936 : I could go on - July 26, 2012
forever, but you’ll quit reading. So one final www.CoffeltFuneral.com discussion for the American public. First, let’s have a true, independent analysis of what happened on September 11, 2001. The official explanation simply doesn’t hold water. This is one of those “who knew what, when” questions that must be answered—and people/institutions must
Espresso at Annie’s Orchard
Speaking of accountability, you might be surprised to learn that I would not support effort to &impeach President with youran hosts Terry Carole Chowning Bush after the November elections. First, Coffee and other specialty because that’s too late, and second, drinks, pastries more because more than Bush& have been involved in crimes against the American people. What I would like to see are Hwy 200 1 mile west of Clark Fork(at• the 208-266-1245 charges least, charges of treason) Bush, Cheney, Open Monday-Saturday 7brought to 1 •against Sunday 8 to 1et al. Bring the charges and let’s let the evidence of
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Page 22 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
Kathy’s Faith Walk
August 2-12, 2012
Caught in Barbed Wire
FeSTivAl ATSAndpoinT! The
Kathy Osborne
For the last week I have been tearing down barbed wire fence around my farm. Barbed wire is nasty stuff. It gets caught on everything, is almost impossible to handle without tools, heavy leather gloves, protective clothing and glasses, and it can wreak havoc with animals if they get caught in it. Yep. Barbed wire is just like sin. On the way home from work a couple weeks ago, listening to the radio I heard two very different news stories about a pair of eleven/twelve-year-old boys. One had discovered a fire in an apartment complex. He ran about pounding on all the doors to alert everyone to the danger. Because of him, everyone escaped the fire. The other twelve-year-old boy beat a two-year-old girl to death. I muttered to no one in particular, “I hate this world.” But my Heavenly Father shot right back, as He often does, “You are seeing the impact sin has on people. You must hate that. But don’t hate the people.” Any lesson from God in my life is accompanied with a practical application, which is why I found myself out in the hot pasture dislodging sixty-foot strands of barbed wire from trees, shrubs, and old fence posts. I got to spend a lot of time thinking about sin and why it is so disastrous when I fail to choose life. Sin is always there. It is the rebellion in our hearts against God. We all have it and it is this sin that Jesus died to save us from. But there is also the day-to-day impact of that sin. It is the place where you and I make decisions all day long about which way we will go. Will I focus my heart and mind on God and His amazing path for me, or will I look to more interesting and dangerous roads? Forget the devil and the angel scenario. I already know long before they show up what direction my heart is going in on any given subject on any given day. If I let myself get to the point where I am entertaining the spiritual arguments, I have already traversed farther onto danger than God would desire for me. By that time I have wound myself up in barbed wire. If I fail to assess my situation correctly and call on my Father to help me make a better choice, soon the trees and shrubs of doubt and fear will grow up through this wire I am caught in. I will make the mistake of trying to free myself rather than ask God. The barbs will dig deeper and I will be wounded. Heavy grasses will grow around my feet and vines will cover the wire. Soon I will be paralyzed and believe the lie that no one can help me. But this is not true. When I ask God to help me with the barbed wire of sin He puts on His special gloves and begins. He opens a chest full of body armor. When I see it glistening in the sun I know that this is my armor—the armor I am supposed to have on all the time so I don’t get caught in these messes. My Father gently pulls the grasses, small trees and bushes away but it hurts. Each time he exposes more wire He also exposes my wounds. They hurt and the scars will stay with me forever but He is gentle. Soon the wire is unwound and I am free. He covers me with healing salve and forgives me for my disobedience. He helps me put on my armor and places a sword in my hand. Ephesians 6:10-17 The impact of sin on all our lives is real. What we do with that impact is the difference between obedience and disobedience—life and death. The choice is always ours and in the end God always lets us choose which way we go. Choose life. Kathy Osborne is the editor of the Co-Op Country Round-Up. You can reach her at coopcountrystore@ yahoo.com
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The
The
Valley of Shadows
Imps of Sandpoint
“There is a universe of endless possibilities and endless wonders; a pantheon that questions the reality of life, and the meaning of existence. Possibilities as boundless as the human imagination in... The Twilight Zone.” -Introduction of the un-produced sixth season
Lawrence Fury
turned to leave when his friend grabbed his arm and pointed to the back of the house. There in the gloom floated what appeared to be a bluish ball of light, about the size of a softball. Watching mesmerized, the ball did a slow bounce up and down several times, then began to expand. There in the middle appeared what they could only describe as a small, misshapen human form. Maybe two or so feet tall, the only features they could see against its silhouette were oversized, perfectly round glowing eyes and oversized ears. Standing there unable to move by a sight that suddenly seemed so unreal, the spell was suddenly broken by the sound of a car passing on the street outside. Both turned and nearly fell down the two steps of the porch, grabbed their bikes and took off for home. That night, my acquaintance’s friend told his father about the experience. The following day was the first concert at Memorial Field for the second-ever Festival, and the man had been able to take the day off to attend with his wife. It was his wife’s idea; the man was somewhat of a redneck and wasn’t that enthused by the prospect of sitting for what he considered to be two hours of stuck-up chamber music. Having time to kill before the concert, he decided to show his son there was nothing to what they had seen. With my acquaintance in tow, the three set off on their bikes. The boys declined to enter the house, and waited on the porch as the man made fun of the boys in a good-natured way before stepping inside. Now my source said that about three minutes later, his friend’s father suddenly came out, his face white as a sheet, told the boys to get it in gear, grabbed his bike and started home. Looking at each other, the man’s son grinned slightly. It was the first time he had seen his old man proven wrong. My acquaintance said that his friend’s father had refused to talk about what had happened inside the house. Could this incident, though, be related to their UFO sighting the previous year? Maybe the entity in the then-abandoned house was an Imp or some denizen of another world, the spirit realm, or maybe it was a being from space, perhaps having beamed to the house from its spaceship. Either way, if you’ve read this column much, you’ve come to realize that anything is possible in the Valley of Shadows.
Of course, the sighting was the topic of conversation for several weeks, gradually fading into memory. Now only natives and longtime residents remember that the county fairgrounds used to be located in among the trees on what is now Lakeview Park Some who are reading this may be on the west side of Memorial Field. Where settling down for a concert at the 30th the tennis court is now was the site of the Festival at Sandpoint. Unbeknownst to church food booths; the exhibit halls were them, just a block or three from Memorial located where now stands the museum and Field, is a house that may be a nexus for an surrounding land. unknown phenomenon. Spirits or beings One or two people back in those days from another world. occasionally say they saw an odd light late There seems to be a percentage of at night in among the trees. One person unusual phenomena that begins with taking a walk one warm, summer night what may be an unexpected or seemingly through the grounds saw it and what unrelated event which then—days, weeks, appeared to be a small, humanoid form in months or even a year later—leads to the glow that seemingly appeared out of something else. nowhere and then went dark. In this case, there was a UFO sighting Now, as this relates to my in the fall of 1983 which may or may not acquaintance’s follow-up encounter: He be related to what happened the following and his friend were riding their bikes one summer. afternoon up and down Ontario as well as My source, an acquaintance of mine in and out of the parking lot at the east now in his mid forties, his friend, and end of Memorial Field watching a crew put his friend’s father were returning home up the now-famous signature tent for the from a camping and fishing trip on Dufort second year of the Festival at Sandpoint. Road from the Morton Slough area when A mid-week work day, 48 hours before the they arrived at U.S. 95 near the dumpsters first concert at the field for the ‘84 season, currently located on the northwest corner there was absolutely no activity in the still of the intersection.. warm afternoon except for the Festival Watery sunshine shone through the activity. high, thin overcast of the early afternoon. Getting bored once the stage was There was surprisingly little traffic on the completed, the two boys decided to highway as they stopped at the sign and investigate a vacant house not more than a turned left toward Sandpoint. couple blocks away. Long since having been My acquaintance said his friend’s father restored and now occupied, this house had suddenly pointed up over the dumpsters. sat empty for years. The lawn was rank and “Look at that!” At first, the boys couldn’t overgrown. Riding around in front, the see what the adult was talking about, two dismounted an laid their bikes against but after a few second something came a tangle of fence and overgrown shrubs on into view as they strained to look out the the house’s north side. windshield. Looking around to make sure no one There, maybe less than a few hundred was watching, they stepped up on the feet up, was what appeared to be a classic porch, cupped their hands to look through UFO. Overturned cup on a saucer. Maybe a grimy window, and saw nothing. 30 feet in diameter, it was a medium silverBoys being boys, one dared the other grey. There was no glint from the filtered to try the door and, after a few moments sun on it as it hovered. It was as if the hesitation, hesitantly stepped inside the object was absorbing the light. hot, gloomy interior. Mostly empty, there The man pulled his pickup over to the was an ancient couch against one wall and side of the road, hopped out, and like any a few oval pictures on the grimy walls. good, North Idaho resident, grabbed his Light from the open door illuminated dust rifle out of the back. Turning toward the motes floating in the air. The place smelled object, he started to bring the rifle up as if of old junk and dry mold that hadn’t been Lawrence lives within the Valley of Shadows, to take aim when the thing zipped straight disturbed in years, maybe longer. and is a collector of its strange tales. Contact up at such speed that it all but seemed to My friend, after a few moments, said, him at larry_fury@yahoo.com disappear. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here,” and Page 24 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
Resurrecting the Dead on Planet Jupiter? The Strange Saga of the Toynbee Tiles FROM THE FILES OF THE RIVER JOURNAL’S
Surrealist Research Bureau
They began appearing on the streets of Philadelphia in the early 1990s, cryptic tiles placed randomly on the city’s asphalt arteries, crude, almost child-like scribbles, omens, or prophecies. Like crop circles they have taken on a life of their own, traveling their way down the Atlantic seaboard, as far as Brazil, Chile, and back into various American Midwest cities before finally returning, Phoenix-like, to their apparent birthplace, Philadelphia. No one has ever been seen placing the tiles. It’s done in the dead of night and they are usually about the size of an average license plate (a very few are larger and hold more, if weirder, information). The most common message is a variation of this: “Toynbee Idea In Kubrick’s 2001 Resurrect Dead on Planet Jupiter.” Internal references in the tiles appear to refer to two main sources, the philosopher Arnold Toynbee’s whimsical idea of recombining dead molecules to reconstitute life forms, and Kubrick’s film “2001: A Space Odyssey,” which hinted at Jupiter as a herald of humanity’s rebirth. The tiles, even as widely dispersed as they are, all appear to be the work of one man. The 2011, award-winning documentary film, “Resurrect Dead:
The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles” convincingly suggests the Tiler was (is) a reclusive resident of Philadelphia, “Sevy” Verna, who purportedly placed the tiles through a hole in his car floor while simultaneously broadcasting messages by way of short wave radio regarding his strange Jovian theories. Many residents of Philly in the 1980s complained to the FCC about their TV reception being interfered with via short wave radio broadcasts promoting incoherent messages about “Resurrecting the Dead on Planet Jupiter.” An unknown caller from Philly to the Larry King radio show in 1980 ranted on the air for minutes on the same eerie subject. Whoever the original Tiler was, or is, the Toynbee Tiles themselves have taken on a life of their own. Hundreds more have been reported every year all around the globe, far too many to be the work of one person. Websites and groups have formed to ponder meanings, locations, interpretations, and speculations. The tiles themselves have grown more elaborate, more costly to produce, more like a piece of artwork, more varied in message and content. Still, in Philadelphia at least, the form and message remain consistent, crude tiles glued onto the city streets with a similar haunting refrain, “Toynbee Idea
Jody Forest
from Kubrick’s 2001 Resurrect Dead on Planet Jupiter.” As I mentioned earlier, there’s an excellent documentary film out exploring (and to me at least, solving) the mystery, 2011’s “Resurrecting Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles.” It’s on Netflix now or keep your eyes peeled for PBS. ‘til next time, keep spreading the word: Soylent Green is People! All Homage to Xena! Addendum: “The Mothership, oh it’s the Mothership!: For those of us awake about 1 am on July 18, an incredible series of glowing, acrobatic, sometimes geometric displays took place in the southwestern skies over the Monarchs that was truly awe-inspiring. I’m rather pleased that despite its novelty and high strangeness, noone in our little group (including a 13-year-old) really freaked out a la’ War of the Worlds or UFOs, instead rationally figuring it must be A) Ion bursts from the Sun forming incredibly peculiar northern lights or B) Area 51 Star Wars testing or C) A Laser Light Show at Silverwood. It turned out, of course, to be C. Jody Forest has done many things, but placing a Toynbee Tile is not one of them. You can reach him at joe@riverjournal.com
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 25
Fiber in one’s diet is essential for proper digestion, good health and well-being, not to mention a few lingering giggles along the way. But a good thing, as we all know, can be taken a bit too far and here is only one example why. Once in a while, my wife gets a notion in her head that we need to go off on vacation somewhere. This could be due to a weak memory, or that our vacation pictures (hard evidence) seldom show all the action and, above all, she never believes any of my recollections and/or sworn testimony. This May, we were celebrating forty years of unmitigated bliss together and she (‘er, “We”) decided to treat the island of Hawai’i to some of our hard earned income as well as a sizable (but “insignificant”) portion of our retirement funds. After two weeks there, we still had a little of it left and in our delight, decided to check out the real estate world around Waimea mixed in with a little snorkeling down on the Kohala coast. We stopped in at a ‘health-food’ store for snacks and liquids, pilfered some ‘Real Estate’ magazines while nobody was lookin’, then headed off to Spencer Beach state park. When we pulled into the parking lot, I was so captivated with the color of the water that I hadn’t noticed the trees were all growing sideways. I got out of the car and watched my newly acquired ‘Hamakua Nut Company’ hat disappear over stunningly clear azure waters. I hear it blew all the way to Maui and was last seen going backwards on Willie Nelson’s head where it saves him from askin’ everyone the all important question, “Got Nuts?” Deciding to try a different beach after a sudden malicious gust removed the screwcap from a bottle of water I was holding, my navigator and noteworthy mathematician (also of 40 years) pointed at page 76 of the Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Big Island and said “Let’s try this one, it looks like it’s more protected from the wind.”
‘This one’ being Waialea Beach (pronounced “Why’re you here?” beach by some of the locals.) When we got there, the water held me spellbound; it was absolutely breathtaking and so were the tree thorns that I immediately started collecting in my toes, fingers, arms and butt. We found a perfectly cozy spot in the sand/ lava/thorn mixture just big enough for twenty toes and two sets of buns, spread our towels and put on the spf-900. It was a nice day! It was bound to get nicer! We alternated getting wet with getting second degree radiation burns and having generally just a great time. The water here is intensely blue. The sun at this latitude is just intense. Turtles swam unconcerned among a forest of white legs holding up gawking and blathering tourists dripping in sun blocker and taking pictures of each other’s pink knees. All of this lit up my appetite like a Roman candle. Lying on my back for a while, I started to smell bacon cooking. In fact, it smelled a little crispy! This made me even hungrier, so I rolled over and opened one of the snacks we’d purchased back in Waimea. My little surfer girl was busy re-livin’ her ‘60s childhood on the beaches of Orange County, Ca. while I snorkeled a bag of “Beanitos” Brand pinto bean and flax seed chips with real cheddar cheese! Life is good!! Side note here: part-time fine homebuilder/ full-time antagonist, L. Scott Hancock (“Lord Griz”) can attest (and does so regularly) to what it’s sometimes like around me after I come in contact with these ingredients; as it cost him a prospective client, a couple years of easy money back in ’97 as well as most of his nose hair. Having tired of prancing bikinis and whale watching, I turned to reading about the snack food I was inhaling. “Hmmm, “Certified Low Glycemic, corn free, gluten free (I love free
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stuff), high fiber, non-GMO with 4 grams of complete protein per serving! Wow! I’d already eaten 3 servings and was starting to get a buzzon. I read faster! I munched even fasterer!! On the back side, it went on to deliberate about the various benefits of eating better and wiser. Being sixty makes you hip to wiser, and having been snorklin’ for what seemed at least fifteen minutes in which time I somehow strained more Pacific Ocean than I should have through my mustache on account of a leaky mask and an untrained nose, I felt it wise to keep eating. By the time I got to the last paragraph (and there were quite a few), I was also down to the very last chip! The latter was delicious while the other held a little more information than I wanted to swallow. At the end there was a warning that “If you are new to this product…Don’t eat the whole bag by yourself in one sitting (or laying)”, due to the nature of beans and their ability to improve one’s social status. “NOW YOU TELL ME!!,” I blurted, startling a small pod of prancing whales in bikinis. I casually emptied the ‘bag dust’ into the palm of my hand and lapped at it while my taste buds sang their version of ‘Glory Hallelujah’. I then rolled up the empty bag and inserted it into my snorkel tube where I’d be sure to rediscover it later. When my little surfer girl/navigator/sun block applicator returned from her flashback, she too could smell bacon (as well as beans) and openly wondered “Where’d that bag of chips go?” I suggested that the checker may have forgotten to put them in with everything else. She sensed a lack of conviction in my garbled testimony and gave me a complimentary slap on ‘the ol’ back-bacon’. The next morning, I woke up early thinking Pele had decided to sacrifice a few tourists by spewing hot lava and noxious gasses down the mountainside from her crater domicile. My wife was snoring (she would say ‘purring’) under a pile of covers on the floor by an open window and the ceiling fan was at full throttle. Noting nothing out of the ordinary, I got up to greet Mr. Coffee. While he was busy gargling, I slid a piece of fresh banana bread from “Up Country Bakery” down the toaster’s throat. ‘Life Is Good!” and so it says on one of my hats. This threesome then tiptoed out on the lanai (Hawaiian for porch) to enjoy the predawn ocean scenery, sounds and smells. My stomach began rumbling profusely, fondly bringing to mind that old Jimmy Dean hit “Big John” about a mine tunnel disaster, so I sang the ‘refrain’ in my deepest mock
Continued
Page 26 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
baritone and bent over to pick up a Plumaria petal. A giggle came up, well, a chortle really, a little too enthusiastically triggering a four megaton outburst of ‘pinto bean/flax seed/ no nonsense/ stick to yer ribs fibery goodness’ removing a beach towel from the railing it wasn’t supposed to be on and sent it, along with a resident gecko, out into a brisk trade
wind. I went back in to refill my cup when I heard tsunami sirens start up across the bay, next to the Sheraton where they worry about such things. Being of a responsible nature, let me now apologize for the actions of a few innocent pinto beans and flax seeds. Any and all snide remarks and/or litigation should be directed
towards “Right Brothers Foods” in Austin, Texas (of whom I have become a big fan and wholesomely avid supporter). Enjoy a bag today … and maybe again tomorrow!
Scott Clawson
acresnpains@dishmail.net
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August 2012| The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| Page 27
My Friend’s Boat I have a friend; okay, maybe I had a friend. He does caterwauling to loosen up his voice. You see, he sings opera in 14 languages, and can cuss in 12 of them. I know because he just lives about a quarter mile from me down in a canyon and his voice caries quite well in this rock canyon . He has to keep his voice exercised through caterwauling because, one, he’s old and two, he teaches school. The school is hid away up in the mountains and is for “troubled” kids whose parents can’t handle them but have enough money to pay someone else to. Sort of a boot camp for semi-retarded young Republicans. Now, a couple of years ago he got a wild hair and decided to build a canoe from scratch. He ordered a set of plans from some magazine and went to work; as it turns out he has a nice large shop he inherited by marrying well. It took a while but he actually built a very nice canoe. As neighbors we were surprised with his accomplishment, but proud of him nevertheless. After floating down the river once he hung that canoe in the ceiling of his shop and there it hangs still. Then, hee got the wild idea he wanted to build a sailboat so again he ordered a set of plans from a book and started ordering all the high priced lumber the plans ask for. It was at this point he realized he could have bought a sailboat for half the price of the lumber but, not to be denied the pleasure of self accomplishment, he started sawing up this expensive lumber. He also had to order all this brass and stainless steel that only came from England. He found a man from Spokane who makes sails and was a long-time sailor who had made his own sail boat and sailed around the world. This would be a man to take advice from: “No, no that pole in the middle you hook the sail to needs to be much taller, and better make room for more sail. Now you need to laminate these special boards at just the right taper to make the mast taller and stronger, there’s a man in Coeur d’Alene who specializes in this lumber.” You people do know that this is supposed to be a one-man runabout, right? This is starting to look like the Mayflower. Three guys over two hundred pounds each were standing in the middle of the hull admiring their work and patting each other on the back for a job well done when there came a snap, crackle, and pop. Actually, it sounded more like an explosion, as the bottom of the hull gave way from the weight. After searching the shop for what was left of the plans, it was discovered there was no mention of a floor made of lath to be attached to the ribs, a place to walk to distribute the weight throughout the boat. Bad words and dirty names were soon to be heard. When it was time to take the boat to the lake, it was too large to put on a car top so George, up the creek, built a trailer to haul it on. Covering all the children’s ears (and some of the women’s), when it was discovered the boat wouldn’t fit through the door it brought on chest pains, wet pants and foaming at the mouth. After taking out the big picture window, frame and all, and with the use of a back hoe, the ship was finely extracted from its resting place and setting squarely on its trailer among shouts and hurrahs; many friends and neighbors made up the entourage, following the boat down to the lake for the christening. As the Titanic was backed slowly into the lake, cheers were heard throughout the crowd, until it slowly sank to the bottom of the lake. Only three in the crowed could remember the snap, crackle, pop of the hull earlier.
From the Mouth of the River
BOOTS REYNOLDS
Did you know that the proposed Rock Creek mine...
Photo by Mark Alan Wilson would discharge 3-million gallons of polluted water into the Clark Fork-Pend Oreille Watershed every day for hundreds of years? …. would be located in Montana, only 25 miles upstream of Lake Pend Oreille? … would be the first hardrock mine ever permitted within the boundary of a federally protected wilderness area—the Cabinet Mountains Wilderness? … has been successfully challenged for 16 years because the public has refused to allow our river and lake to be polluted? … continues to be a threat in 2012 with the current mining company aggressively pursuing the project?
YOU CAN HELP PREVENT THE MINE BY GETTING INVOLVED!
Join or volunteer with the one organization that has been protecting Lake Pend Oreille from the Rock Creek mine since 1996.
Contact us at info@rockcreekalliance. org or call 406-544-1494. For current information and background on the proposed project: www.RockCreekAlliance.org
Page 28 | The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through | www.RiverJournal.com | Vol. 21 No. 8| August 2012
August 2-12, 2012
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