Our Ray Stories
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Redneck Resort
Redneck Resort (Final Chapter)
Chapter 3
The extreme heat from dying sun left the dark airs of the night outside feeling like a natural oven. Inside our natural homemade protective covering, the air was stagnant and hot; above and all around us were a thick assortment of various size tree limbs intertwined with each other, all matted together and holding hands. This thick earthy skeleton supported at least twelve inches of a mixture of pine needles and forest leaves. These natural lifeless by-products of the forest around us became a barrier keeping the occasional cool breezes of the night outside. Due to the heat, we had all stripped down to the natural clothes given to us at birth except for our skivvies. Our mattress of thick pine needles on the earthen floor below became the only comfortable aspect of our journey into sleep and dreams.
We were all awakened early in the morning night by a thunderstorm creating havoc outside our tent. Loud explosions from booming cannons of thunder followed by brilliant flashes of lightening made all of us think that we had some how been transported back into the midst of the civil war. Then a loud clap of thunder followed by a lightening bolt hitting a tree across the creek made us focus on our present moment of human history. Having camped in a small valley afforded us some protection from the strong howling winds racing through the trees above us from reaching down and blowing away our tent of unprotected pine needles and dead leaves. Amidst the noise of the storm finally came large drops of cool rain putting out the fire from the sweltering heat of the day before; followed, a few minutes later, by a massive downpour of heavy rain. The sudden drop of temperature gave cause for all us to quickly put on our clothes except for brother Ray who still lay on his bed of soft hay and pine needles and loudly proclaiming, “ You guys, this is what survival camping is all about!”
The rest of us huddled together around our older brother Joe, jabbering like a bunch of squirrels about the ongoing war of nature outside and our common fear of impending doom from the howling winds above and around us in destroying our shaky shelter. Then, the first suggestion (by whom I do not remember) was made of sounding a retreat from the advancing violent forces of nature outside out tent to the safety of our home several miles away. This suggestion rose above our constant chatter to finally settle on the ears of Ray, who sat up in attention to remark, “We are not going home in all this rain. Knock it off, settle down and let’s get back to sleep!” So we all lay back on our natural beds and listened to the downpour of rain outside that was washing any hope of renewed sleep away.
Within a short time, the heavy rain had started to filter through our heavy protective covering of needle and leaves to drip into the tent. I sat up and looked about the tent to find Ray who appeared unconcerned about the dripping rain and fast asleep. I shouted, “Ray, the rain is dripping in the tent and there is water now coming in and causing our soft floor to become damp!” However, he remained silent and unmoved as if he had never heard me. Finally a little help from the heavy rain outside got his attention. The roof above his bed gave way and water began pouring through the hole down on Ray. He was now awake and quickly reacted by moving from under the hole in the roof. We all started laughing at his unfortunate rise from the dead and his loud remark of “SH-T!!! This was enough to convince him to begin the retreat back to home. We quickly made our way out of the wet tent to gather outside in the cold rain when before our eyes the soggy roof of our tent gave way under the weight of the wet pine needles. Our once standing and protective structure was now a pile of wet brush, leaves and needles. Nature had not only won the battle but now had won the war.
Ray led the way through the woods on what he called a “short cut.” Since he carried the only flood light, we did not question his ability to light the way through the darkness and woods to the safety of home. We had gone less a thousand yards, when the rain quit and we stopped for a moment to relish the silence of the woods.
We had only traveled another hundred feet, when we heard the dogs howling in the near distance. Ray shouted, “The dogs have treed!!!” Almost in unison, we all replied, “Who cares!” Yet before we could make any more objections, Ray began running through the woods towards the baying dogs. Since he had the only light we quickly followed suit in a dead run to keep up.
The dogs soon stopped their howling and now were in a violent fight with some unknown creature. “What could it be?” Joe shouted as we finally caught up with Ray. When the flood light came to a focus on the dogs and the ensuing fight, we all stopped at a safe distance to observe. Before us were two dogs pulling in opposing directions with their jaws locked tight on each end of a small furry animal that finally was ripped in two. Suddenly it was as if a silent stink bomb exploded and the night airs became saturated with a choking odor. Ray shouted, “Skunk!” The dogs hearing Ray’s voice began coming towards us (still a good distance away) each proudly carrying the bleeding and butchered animal in their respective mouths. We all heard Ray turn and shout, “RUN, don’t let those dogs catch us!!!” Like a silent herd of deer racing through the woods following the Ray and the only light in his hand. I was beginning to wonder if Ray knew the way or was just hoping to find a way home using his short cut when we came onto the gravel road that led to home.
We all began to laugh thinking we had out run the dogs and would be safe at home in less than a country mile. Our laughter came to an end when we heard the dogs barking a short distance behind us and we once more broke into a run. Ray suddenly turned and left the road into a opened field of high weeds and grass while shouting “follow me!” Making our way through the wet and soggy field, we finally came to our property and quietly made our way to the house. The dogs were nowhere to be heard or seen.
In the wash house, we stripped clean of our smelly wet clothes and like naked little Indians made our way silently into the house to our bedroom. There we put on new skivvies and climbed in to our bed. Ray whispered, “We made it without waking anyone!”
It was our misfortune that our dogs made it home at this time and Curly’s favorite sleeping spot was under the bushes located just under dad and mom’s bedroom window which was opened at the time. It did not take long for the strong skunk odor to reach my dad who was asleep. His loud voice proclaiming “skunk” filled the house to wake all within. As we dove and disappeared under our covers, it was Ray who said, “Almost had it made!” Then our bedroom door opened and we could hear Dad shout in his normal loud voice, “The boys are home!” Ray’s final remark under the covers was “there will be no more survival campout after this.”
The extreme heat from dying sun left the dark airs of the night outside feeling like a natural oven. Inside our natural homemade protective covering, the air was stagnant and hot; above and all around us were a thick assortment of various size tree limbs intertwined with each other, all matted together and holding hands. This thick earthy skeleton supported at least twelve inches of a mixture of pine needles and forest leaves. These natural lifeless by-products of the forest around us became a barrier keeping the occasional cool breezes of the night outside. Due to the heat, we had all stripped down to the natural clothes given to us at birth except for our skivvies. Our mattress of thick pine needles on the earthen floor below became the only comfortable aspect of our journey into sleep and dreams.
We were all awakened early in the morning night by a thunderstorm creating havoc outside our tent. Loud explosions from booming cannons of thunder followed by brilliant flashes of lightening made all of us think that we had some how been transported back into the midst of the civil war. Then a loud clap of thunder followed by a lightening bolt hitting a tree across the creek made us focus on our present moment of human history. Having camped in a small valley afforded us some protection from the strong howling winds racing through the trees above us from reaching down and blowing away our tent of unprotected pine needles and dead leaves. Amidst the noise of the storm finally came large drops of cool rain putting out the fire from the sweltering heat of the day before; followed, a few minutes later, by a massive downpour of heavy rain. The sudden drop of temperature gave cause for all us to quickly put on our clothes except for brother Ray who still lay on his bed of soft hay and pine needles and loudly proclaiming, “ You guys, this is what survival camping is all about!”
The rest of us huddled together around our older brother Joe, jabbering like a bunch of squirrels about the ongoing war of nature outside and our common fear of impending doom from the howling winds above and around us in destroying our shaky shelter. Then, the first suggestion (by whom I do not remember) was made of sounding a retreat from the advancing violent forces of nature outside out tent to the safety of our home several miles away. This suggestion rose above our constant chatter to finally settle on the ears of Ray, who sat up in attention to remark, “We are not going home in all this rain. Knock it off, settle down and let’s get back to sleep!” So we all lay back on our natural beds and listened to the downpour of rain outside that was washing any hope of renewed sleep away.
Within a short time, the heavy rain had started to filter through our heavy protective covering of needle and leaves to drip into the tent. I sat up and looked about the tent to find Ray who appeared unconcerned about the dripping rain and fast asleep. I shouted, “Ray, the rain is dripping in the tent and there is water now coming in and causing our soft floor to become damp!” However, he remained silent and unmoved as if he had never heard me. Finally a little help from the heavy rain outside got his attention. The roof above his bed gave way and water began pouring through the hole down on Ray. He was now awake and quickly reacted by moving from under the hole in the roof. We all started laughing at his unfortunate rise from the dead and his loud remark of “SH-T!!! This was enough to convince him to begin the retreat back to home. We quickly made our way out of the wet tent to gather outside in the cold rain when before our eyes the soggy roof of our tent gave way under the weight of the wet pine needles. Our once standing and protective structure was now a pile of wet brush, leaves and needles. Nature had not only won the battle but now had won the war.
Ray led the way through the woods on what he called a “short cut.” Since he carried the only flood light, we did not question his ability to light the way through the darkness and woods to the safety of home. We had gone less a thousand yards, when the rain quit and we stopped for a moment to relish the silence of the woods.
We had only traveled another hundred feet, when we heard the dogs howling in the near distance. Ray shouted, “The dogs have treed!!!” Almost in unison, we all replied, “Who cares!” Yet before we could make any more objections, Ray began running through the woods towards the baying dogs. Since he had the only light we quickly followed suit in a dead run to keep up.
The dogs soon stopped their howling and now were in a violent fight with some unknown creature. “What could it be?” Joe shouted as we finally caught up with Ray. When the flood light came to a focus on the dogs and the ensuing fight, we all stopped at a safe distance to observe. Before us were two dogs pulling in opposing directions with their jaws locked tight on each end of a small furry animal that finally was ripped in two. Suddenly it was as if a silent stink bomb exploded and the night airs became saturated with a choking odor. Ray shouted, “Skunk!” The dogs hearing Ray’s voice began coming towards us (still a good distance away) each proudly carrying the bleeding and butchered animal in their respective mouths. We all heard Ray turn and shout, “RUN, don’t let those dogs catch us!!!” Like a silent herd of deer racing through the woods following the Ray and the only light in his hand. I was beginning to wonder if Ray knew the way or was just hoping to find a way home using his short cut when we came onto the gravel road that led to home.
We all began to laugh thinking we had out run the dogs and would be safe at home in less than a country mile. Our laughter came to an end when we heard the dogs barking a short distance behind us and we once more broke into a run. Ray suddenly turned and left the road into a opened field of high weeds and grass while shouting “follow me!” Making our way through the wet and soggy field, we finally came to our property and quietly made our way to the house. The dogs were nowhere to be heard or seen.
In the wash house, we stripped clean of our smelly wet clothes and like naked little Indians made our way silently into the house to our bedroom. There we put on new skivvies and climbed in to our bed. Ray whispered, “We made it without waking anyone!”
It was our misfortune that our dogs made it home at this time and Curly’s favorite sleeping spot was under the bushes located just under dad and mom’s bedroom window which was opened at the time. It did not take long for the strong skunk odor to reach my dad who was asleep. His loud voice proclaiming “skunk” filled the house to wake all within. As we dove and disappeared under our covers, it was Ray who said, “Almost had it made!” Then our bedroom door opened and we could hear Dad shout in his normal loud voice, “The boys are home!” Ray’s final remark under the covers was “there will be no more survival campout after this.”
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Archer
well he sleeps with his eyes open has an outy belly butten and likes to sing and dance and sure reminds me of dad I am so blessed
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Merry Christmas Dad
Been thinking of him and on him for some days now. The heart and mind wanders… Oh were it possible to enjoy the crushing joy and deep satisfaction of one of his bear hugs with his strong arms that you knew could always be relied upon to help? But… it isn’t any more possible to have that than his sincere and welcoming smile. Or is it?
We lost him on Christmas and in some ways this was fitting because he is forever connected to a day and a season that his life and character so closely embodied. He really was a spirit of Christmas… gracious, kind, charitable. Yet also not a push over… not beyond granting a lump of coal when warranted! But one could be assured that the coal was not mean spirited but given with the sincere hope that it might lead to changing behavior and the life of the other for the better.
So Christmas brings us back to him with a tinge of sorrow and regret of course but also with recognition of the spirit of him that lives on in the celebrating of these principles with others in this season. Which is also for me a reminder that often what we most admire in others is something at the core of humanity – our common humanity expressed in finer or more consistent form. So with this in mind, I find my self confident and comforted in knowing that I will find in others aspects of what I miss most in my Father. I will find it now and in the future as I have in the past.. and I will find it next door, around the corner, across this Nation and around the World. That promise of encountering the best of our common humanity does nothing to diminish the memory and legacy of our dear Father. It only serves to remind us that he listened and learned well and attended to the deeper voices of his heart and soul. And borrowing those lessons in earnest for his time and in turn gifting those lessons to the hearts of others, as the human story has unfolded for countless lives throughout the world this common humanity moves forward with all of us life by life. It also connects us all as a family.
Becky was so kind as to gift me one of Dad’s guitar picks this Christmas and I was reminded of all the songs he shared with us over the years. And the music. I enjoyed learning the music that was dear to him and trying to learn what it said about him. And I recall one summer when I was a boy walking down unfamiliar streets hot blacktop on my feet… winding our way this way and that, but confident he was certain in his bearings. He led us kids to a big circus tent and inside Harry Chapin was on a stage smiling, joking, plucking at his guitar a bit and warming up the crowd. He sang a song that resonated with me and the difficulty of being away from Dad, but the comfort in knowing that I would always be with him again in someway or another. And now I also think about this song and how it relates to being wrapped up in the love of that common humanity also…
This video has a bit of a song that introduces the song that I recalled which is "All My Life is a Circle"
We lost him on Christmas and in some ways this was fitting because he is forever connected to a day and a season that his life and character so closely embodied. He really was a spirit of Christmas… gracious, kind, charitable. Yet also not a push over… not beyond granting a lump of coal when warranted! But one could be assured that the coal was not mean spirited but given with the sincere hope that it might lead to changing behavior and the life of the other for the better.
So Christmas brings us back to him with a tinge of sorrow and regret of course but also with recognition of the spirit of him that lives on in the celebrating of these principles with others in this season. Which is also for me a reminder that often what we most admire in others is something at the core of humanity – our common humanity expressed in finer or more consistent form. So with this in mind, I find my self confident and comforted in knowing that I will find in others aspects of what I miss most in my Father. I will find it now and in the future as I have in the past.. and I will find it next door, around the corner, across this Nation and around the World. That promise of encountering the best of our common humanity does nothing to diminish the memory and legacy of our dear Father. It only serves to remind us that he listened and learned well and attended to the deeper voices of his heart and soul. And borrowing those lessons in earnest for his time and in turn gifting those lessons to the hearts of others, as the human story has unfolded for countless lives throughout the world this common humanity moves forward with all of us life by life. It also connects us all as a family.
Becky was so kind as to gift me one of Dad’s guitar picks this Christmas and I was reminded of all the songs he shared with us over the years. And the music. I enjoyed learning the music that was dear to him and trying to learn what it said about him. And I recall one summer when I was a boy walking down unfamiliar streets hot blacktop on my feet… winding our way this way and that, but confident he was certain in his bearings. He led us kids to a big circus tent and inside Harry Chapin was on a stage smiling, joking, plucking at his guitar a bit and warming up the crowd. He sang a song that resonated with me and the difficulty of being away from Dad, but the comfort in knowing that I would always be with him again in someway or another. And now I also think about this song and how it relates to being wrapped up in the love of that common humanity also…
This video has a bit of a song that introduces the song that I recalled which is "All My Life is a Circle"
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