Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 27

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 27: Bowling

Heading south from St. Ignace, Michigan on Route 75, I arrived at a wonderful little Bed & Breakfast in Bowling Green, Ohio. The week progressed by becoming very good friends with innkeepers, Nancy and Jake, and at weeks end they invited me to join them for bowling Saturday night.

Saturday night’s bowling was not a league but by the number of friends and acquaintances that arrived and divided into friendly 5 person teams, it certainly had a league feel. I, tagging along with Jake and Nancy, was included on their team. As with most bowling jaunts I’m accustom to, everyone usually bowls two to three games/sets and this night was a three gamer.

During the third and final set, our team started out the first three frames with either strikes, spares, or open frames with no discernible difference from the first two games. It was the completion of Frame Four that drew our attention to Jake’s fourth consecutive strike and while being no slouch to bowling, this was still a first for him. When Jake rolled another strike in the fifth frame, customary strike/spare high fives displayed an added dose of enthusiasm .

Jake’s strike in Frame Six drew some rubber-necking attention from the neighboring lanes and an attentive hush overtook our team as he took the boards and rolled a strike in the seventh frame. Whispers spread of the looming possibly of a perfect game and ‘waiting their turn’ idle bowlers gravitated to watch as Jake rolled a strike in Frame Eight. As Jake readied for the ninth frame the other lanes now noticeably paused. As the pins were hit, one last pin unnervingly teetered, inciting a bit of drama, then as it finally fell, strike nine fueled more high fives and cheers from the growing crowd.

As Jake approached the boards for Frame Ten, he was now three strikes away from a perfect game. Quiet spread around the entire Bowling Alley, first ball, a strike, and silence held. As soon as the pins were reset and Jake toweled down his returned ball, he settled into his oft repeated stance. With the second strike, a tense concentrated silence remained intact , and again Jake picked up the returned ball and inhaling deeply he positioned himself for the final roll.

I took this picture just as Jake was releasing the ball and by the burst of light from the flash, I realized my finger had mistakenly moved the flash button to “on”. The flash startled Jake, his hand did a twist and the ball rolled to the right and into the gutter as did the hopes and dreams of his perfect game.

Besides the crushing look of disappointment on Jake’s face, there were a lot of angry bowlers. Calls for me to be strung up from the highest beam, throw me down the lane to see if they could get a strike with my head, or cart me off to the nearby zoo and feed me to the alligators, were some of the friendlier suggestions. I have never felt as bad in my entire life as I did then, but Jake, as a friend, interceded, quickly stepping between me and fifty or so angry blowers.

A certain calmness was restored but not the pained feelings I now harbored.

Several of Jake’s friends and a few other prominent bowlers got together and discussed how this should be resolved. They decided, since this wasn’t league nor TV fanfare, and the “Flash”, no different an interruption as a loose board popping up or falling ceiling tile to disrupt a throw, they weren’t opposed to a one-roll do-over, but there was a stipulation. If Jake didn’t roll a strike for the 300 game, I was on the hook to buy everyone on our team an in-house dinner and drinks.

Jake rolled the final strike to the sound of an uproarious audience of bowlers as he got his first ever perfect game.

Still feeling remorseful, I offered to still pick up the tab for a round of food and drinks which was readily accepted. By the first bite, the fast-becoming memorable story now elicited several laughs, allowing my mood to ease up a little. A few fellow bowlers walked over and presented me with a trench coat and was playfully instructed “but no flashing”.

I smiled, funny guys, these bowlers.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 25

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 25: “The Cap”

Reaching a crossroads, after leaving Minnesota on my journey to Ukazoo, where the plan was to turn North, I took a second to consider an opportunity to visit Chicago. A “second” was all that was needed, turning South, I made my way to the “Windy City”.

Spending this past week taking in Galleries, Museums, some live music and a play, I concluded my visit by joining several guests from the B&B and went to a poetry recital. The evening’s featured author was a tall slender woman named Mya, whose melodious voice, recounting family, life’s affirmations, and recent personal triumphs, flowed throughout the dimly lit room like a gentle insightful song.

Prior to her final poem, Mya paused to reflect on the warmness she felt tonight with returning to her hometown after 17 years. As such, she found it appropriate to close with a touch of levity, by reciting a poem she wrote, then as a teenager, just weeks before leaving Chicago.

I took this photo just as she softly announced the title, “Wind O Wind”, then put the camera down and listened with a smile to the following poem.

Wind O Wind, you came through the bedroom window.

You blew so hard, blew so strong,

You blew so unbelievably long.

With a gust, off went my cap covering my hairs,

You sent it sailing down a flight of stairs.

I chased it down the hallway and into rooms

While I tried to swat it down waving a broom.

I ran after it frantically for what seemed like hours,

Past chairs, lamps, and tables holding vases of flowers.

You sent it through the kitchen, barely missing a pie,

Out an open window and high into the sky.

Nearly missing Ravens, Flinches, and a Purple Martin,

Downward it turned heading into the garden.

In between potatoes, tomatoes, corn, and beets,

Along bricked pathways, sidewalks and streets.

You made my cap twist around buildings, and a very tall steeple,

Then it descended, just above hands of helpful people.

Tenuously sending it across a quiet road,

You paused for a breath, and it landed on a toad.

As I closed in to make a lunge for my cap,

I felt an intake of air rush down my back.

Your breath started up again, stronger then ever,

You quickly decided to be very clever.

Up again it went, out of my reach,

Outwards past a crowded, sandy beach.

You made it flip,dip, and drop towards the sea

‘Stop, stop, don’t let it get wet” was my desperate plea.

At that moment, a hesitation, I didn’t foresee,

either by my words, or maybe you tried of playing with me.

You sent it back up, into the sky instead

and gently lowered it down, onto my head.

During the closing reception, I purchased one of the few remaining copies of her first, and now out of print, book, “Mya’s Poems for a Smile” which she graciously signed. This morning, now packed and ready to “for sure” head North, I can detect the whispering of Mya’s Poems ready to accompany me on my journey to Ukazoo. Hope to meet her again someday.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis .

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 23

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 23: “The Dancer’s”

After I left Sheridan, Wyoming, my next stop was Steele, North Dakota. The drive, over 550 miles took 11 hours, which included a couple of rest-stops and one traffic tie-up that involved removing a dump truck that veered into a ditch to avoid hitting a deer.

Both driver and deer, were all right.

Inching towards midnight on extended dark stretches of empty highway, I stopped into a dimly lit two pump gas station just before they closed. At the register, to pay for gas and a few snacks, I asked, “I’m close to Steele, right?” With all the enthusiasm a “Doing a double shift, I’ve been here too long” clerk could muster, all I received was a half nod of confirmation.

Having called ahead for reservations at a Bed and Breakfast, and aware of my late arrival time, I found a note with directions to my room, signed “see you in the morning”.

At breakfast, I met the hosts, Leo and Denise, and their daughter, Lyn. The instant friendship that developed with this family and several other people I met as the week progressed, took on an uncanny familiarity of close friends in Baltimore.

The following day, making a scenic stop, I encountered several artists engaged in a Plein-air painting class. As with Leo and Denise, friendships easily formed and I was informed of a small art show they were hosting that evening. Being a fellow artist, I looked forward to attending.

Wonderful people, engaging art, and throughout the evening the sense of déjà vu.

The following day, while replenishing art materials at a local craft store, I met Matt and Larine, and again it was that familiarity of friends I’ve known for years. Amid laughs and exchanging stories, they insisted I come to a Halloween/Karaoke party they and several of their friends were sponsoring at a local pub. With Matt having an extra costume that only needed a few adjustments to fit me, I willingly joined them to meet a great group of friends sporting for an impressive array of costumes, marvelous singing, and still that continued sense of déjà vu swirling around.

Not catching my breath, the next evening was Leo’s birthday, at least it was a few days ago, and this was their first chance to celebrate. Becoming, now, good friends, they asked if I would care to join them and several guests at a VA hall, featuring a top notch Blues/Rock band. Of course!

At the Hall, as friends traded past birthday stories and their birthday dates, it was learned that mine was just around the corner and I was just eight days younger than Leo. With the Birthday cake candles, a now faint puff of smoke and a chorus of Happy Birthday for Leo sung, the band started up.

At first, Leo seemed content to sit and listen to the music and trade stories of youthful adventures but with the pleas from Denise he finally gave in joined Denise on the Dance floor.

As the band launched into a very funky extended set of blues tunes, I took this picture as Leo and Denise got into some serious dancing and by the end of the night the only way to now stop Leo from dancing was the band ending their night of playing.

I had a great, yet again, strangely familiar time, and even got in a fair amount of dancing myself.

Today while departing, I gave a sigh, as the past few days have reminded me of friends back home I’ve missed and how good it will be to see them again, once I get to Ukazoo.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 22

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 22: Do You Want a Marble

From the moment the first kids ran out the door, laughing and screaming as I made my way in, I knew I was in for an interesting stay at Leighton’s Bed & Breakfast in Sheridan, Wyoming.

The majority of the rooms were rented by three related families here for a reunion. Their children, seven in all, seemed more content to spend most of the next three days in the B&B’s spacious back yard playing rather than engaged in sightseeing with their parents.

Of the two rooms left, I took one and the other room, a suite, was rented to a family with just one son, Nori, who by contrast, was extremely shy and content to spend his time alone with his books.

Spending the first morning after breakfast, relaxing on the back porch with tea and a sketchbook, the kids were engaged in a game I hadn’t seen since my younger days, a long, long, long time ago. Marbles.

Lance, the older of the kids, was the principal marble player and was rather good at it.

During the Inn’s afternoon treats, set out by the Leighton’s, the subject of marbles came up. Nori, who had frequently glanced over his book to watch their marble playing, now quietly inched his way closer to the conversation. Lance brought out his “traveling” marble collection. There were the standards, Cat’s eyes, Clearies, Aggies, Tigers, Oilie’s and various larger Bowlers and Steelies. He also had a small wood box that housed his special “never to be played” marbles. Of those, two glass Bowler’s were very rare.

One was a clear glass German made “Sulphide”, encasing a small hand carved ivory alligator, and the other, made in Ohio in the early 1900’s, had a solid color of deep maroon, speckled with hints of copper, giving it a look and feel of stone. Both beautiful to gaze into.

With Nori, book in tow, now next to us infatuated with the marbles, Lance, looking up, suddenly changed the subject and inquired about the book Nori was reading. Without a word, he held out an advanced math book. Lance, continuing to initiate the conversation, told Nori that Math was his worst subject in school, he just couldn’t find a way to comprehend it.

Lance made Nori a deal, he would show him how to play marbles in return for some pointers on how to figure out the Algebra, Geometry and maybe even a little Trig. Nori, uncomfortable with this sudden social contact, reluctantly agreed.

During the second and third day, Nori slowly became actively engaged in the marble games and at one point shared a laugh much to the delight of the younger kids. In the evenings, he and Lance sat at the dining room table, scrap paper galore, engaged in pouring over math equations and different strategies.

Today, the fourth day, was departure time and with packing of the vehicles in full progress, Lance approached Nori, and opening his marble box took out the maroon/copper glass bowler.

With camera at hand, I took this picture as Lance handed Nori the rare marble as a parting gift, not just, Lance explained, for all his help with the math but for becoming a friend.

Nori, overwhelmed by this rare opportunity at friendship, gave assurances he would always be available by call or email to help with any math issues that may arise or just to chat.

A touching moment to say the least.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 21

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 21 Painting the Flower Deity

Arrived in Missoula, Montana to find a wonderful Bed & Breakfast run by Martha and Mitch. The interior of their house was as captivating as the outside except for the living room, which was vacant of all furniture and sealed off with a sheet of plastic.

After unpacking I joined newly arrived guests, Mary and Matthew, along with our hosts, in the dining room to get acquainted and partake in the afternoon refreshments Martha had set out. It didn’t take long for the conversation to drift to the “in progress” living room.

A seemingly testy subject prompted a “lets take a drive” from our hosts, while they would tell us the story of the living room and how it relates to a statue they was taking us to see.

In route, Mitch related the story of an older gentleman named Maurice Montbretia, who had hit the Mega Millions lottery two years ago. The newly acquired wealth, in itself, wasn’t an issue as Maurice spent the better part of his life eking out a living tending other peoples gardens.

Maurice loved flowers, grew flowers, read about flowers, and had managed on his meager earnings to build a small greenhouse. Now, with all this money and no family to speak of , he decided he would purchase a fair size piece of property to build a monument, his ode to flowers. Started a year and a half ago, this lofty project was now nearing completion.

Mitch continued, that three weeks ago just as they were ready to paint their living room a deep shade of Blue, just as their neighbors Margaret and Mark were ready to paint their addition a light Blue, Malinda and Morris about to paint their store front a special mix Violet, and Melvin and his son, Martin, were about to repaint their Barbershop pole, we couldn’t find a can of blue paint in the whole town, nor in several outlining communities.

Puzzled, our quest to find the source of this paint shortage led us to Maurice.

As we neared the turnoff to Mountain Mills Road, and the location of the statue, we found traffic backed up due to deliveries. Mitch detoured to Murray Marconi’s adjacent farm and with permission, we hiked across the fields. As we approached the construction site we could only look in wonder at the size of the statue.

I took this picture of the work in progress. The final red “puzzle” shaped designs being attached and the blue paint applied by a small workforce manning a scaffolding system that at one point must have reached the clouds. I was equally impressed with the holographic projection system creating a circular receding phase of the statues face, which I was told was particularly effective at night and on overcast days.

Maurice, engaged in the supervising, turned, and seeing us, waved us in. While treating us to a hot dog and soda from “Mean Mike”, an onsite vendor, Maurice, having become aware of this paint storage, used the opportunity to apologize to Martha and Mitch. Becoming self adsorbed, Maurice explained, and succumbing to excesses, encouraged by all this newly acquired money, he lost sight of the effects on friends and community, and this morning placed a special rush order for those paints to be delivered directly to all those in need. He would also pick up the tab for the inconvenience he had caused.

With everyone back in good spirits, I made my way over for another “Mean Mike’s” Hot Dog. They were very good and between you and me, Mike wasn’t mean at all.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 20

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 20: Caterpillar

Aware of the direction of my Journey, the Ranger at Cape Disappointment recommended a Nature Observation site deep in the Idaho Panhandle National Forest that specialized in finding rare Arthropods.

Making my way deep into the forest on unimproved roads with only the ranger’s hand drawn map, I arrived at a very modern but environmentally designed series of buildings tucked away in a small stream fed valley. While not an advertised tourist spot, the resident park personnel welcomed the occasional visitor that went out of their way to find this place.

After spending a very full day of extremely informative discussions, walks, and viewing collections of unique and rare species, they expressed a concern about the difficulty navigating the forest roads back to town in the darkness and offered a spare bed to spend the night.

Before turning in, we sat around an evening campfire and they proceeded to tell me a story of having received several hand delivered letters over the past two weeks. The letters, from an unknown source, outlined the chance to receive for observation via a trade, an extremely rare caterpillar that the park personnel have been trying to capture since the first sighting several months ago.

The trade, “Bob” (the name they applied to the unknown letter writer) proposed, consisted of one case of hand lotion, six pairs of leather work gloves for him and a few friends, and assurances that the caterpillar had to be released once he morphed into a butterfly. Release was critical to the pollination of an equally rare flower that served as an important food source to Bob and his friends. The lotion and gloves, the letters stated, were essential to help ease up on blisters, winter’s split skin and the ‘holding rough hands’ complains from their wives.

With assurances of terms confirmed, the last letter they received two days ago, outlined coordinates to a location to construct a blind, to both observe the capture and complete the trade.

We awoke the next morning to find a letter had arrived, informing them to be at the newly constructed blind within two hours, along with the lotion and gloves. Since I was present, they allowed me to tag along.

Within an hour of occupying the blind we became aware of the caterpillar, dropping down to the end of a thorn covered branch by a silken thread. At that moment out of the shadows of the underbrush emerged a manlike creature with a shell body and no legs. Slowly making his way up the same branch using his hands, we also noticed four tentacles unfurl from the top of the shell, one holding a leaf that perked up the caterpillars attention. Another tentacle dropping down behind his back, held a net.

I took this picture a split second before a very hungry caterpillar made a move for the leaf and with one quick motion snatched up in the net. In a second motion, Bob jumped to the ground and handed the net and caterpillar to the rangers and with no words exchanged, accepted the lotion and gloves and quickly disappeared back into the forest.

Upon my preparing to leave this morning, after spending a second night, I was informed another letter from Bob had arrived. This one, they read, contained thanks for the lotion and gloves for the cold winter ahead and, to everyone’s delight, the hint of one day sharing one of those campfires they have watched from a distance.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Website: http://www.clhaupt.com

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 19

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 19: Day at at the Beach

Just inside the border of Washington I stopped in Ilwaco, and found out I was just a stone’s throw from Cape Disappointment State Park that offered camping by the ocean.

Not having camped in years it seemed an interesting change of pace. At a local camping store I bought a small tent at a reasonable price, plus a Coleman stove and a couple of basic cooking utensils. I could still drive back into Ilwaco for some meals if necessary.

Only one other family was set up in the camping area I was assigned to. Efron, his wife Ava, and their four children arrived a few hours before me and noticing my obvious unpreparedness for camping invited me to set up near them and share their camping equipment as well as their company.

The next morning after breakfast, Efron and the kids assembled their cooler, chairs, umbrella, and reading material into their wagon and asked if I wanted to join them on a walk to the beach while Ava drove back into Ilwaco to mail some postcards.

As we neared the ocean they spotted a sign at the waters edge. As they slowly read the list of activities prohibited on the beach, I could only imagine their disappointment at Cape Disappointment. I took this picture as Efron stood in front of the sign as if in a state of shock. I felt extremely bad for the kids, and as they held back a tear or two, hung their heads and slowly walked back to the camp site.

That evening as we sat around the campfire, rather depressed, roasting marshmallows for s’mores, Ava opted to entertain the kids with a ghost story. Being quite the story teller, it wasn’t long before she had the kids on the edge of their seats. Efron and I, also effected, found ourselves glancing around at the darkness of the night surrounding our now insignificant little campfire. As Ava paused for the stories dramatic climax, it seemed the whole forest was holding its breath and listening, and even the distance whisper of the ocean waves became silent.

At that moment deep in the woods we heard the snap of a twig, and jerking our heads up to listen, it was followed by the faint sound of footsteps. As the footsteps slowly approached we huddled around each other, armed with Efron’s small hatchet, Ava and the kids holding marshmallow forks, and me with my pocket combo knife open. Fearing the worst, we imagined a bear, maybe a sasquatch, or even a zombie alligator, ready to have us all for dinner.

As the sound of the footsteps grew closer we noticed what appeared to be a light scanning the ground in the same vicinity as the footsteps. We looked at each other, we didn’t know Zombie’s to carry flashlights. Then came the voice. It didn’t matter what it said, we about jumped out of our skin (feathers), the sound turned out to be “Hello”.

Attached to the footsteps, light, and voice was the Park Ranger, now stepping into the light of the campfire. Apologizing for startling us, he stopped by to inform us that he was just on his way back from the beach where he had to replace an addendum to the sign.

He explained that the added information below all the “NO’s” read “Starting December 1st to February 28th”, and that the original wood attachment fell off last night and washed away at high tide. He was sorry for the day’s inconvenience and offered us a free tour of the parks two lighthouses anytime during our stay.

With the added signage in place, over the next three days, till I left this morning, I joined Efron, Ava, and the kids as they enjoyed some fabulous moments at the beach. I managed fairly well with the camping too!

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 17

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 17: Eight Birds

After several stops in large metropolitan areas, I could sense the anticipation of a few days of peace and quiet as I checked into a Bed & Breakfast in Yreka, California. The innkeeper, after going through the normal b&b cadence, offered one final note, you might want to reframe from feeding the birds. “Nothing major, but one particular bird, we named Cliff, seems to be rather persistent in wanting more”.

The following morning after breakfast, armed with a good mystery book, cup of tea, and my last few favorite store bought cookies, I made my way to the front porch. Couldn’t have been 10 minutes into my reading when a very unique bird, whom I had to assume was Cliff, landed on the railing. He took to staring at me and my cookies. I remembered the innkeepers warning, but it was just one bird. I gave in and held out my last cookie. With one quick motion he took it from my hand and flew off. I smiled, seemed like no harm done.

Later that evening after dinner and a trip to a store to replenish my cookie supply, I returned to the porch to finish off a couple more chapters. Couldn’t have been five minutes when Cliff returned to the railing. Only this time he was back with a friend, and with that same intent stare to me and my cookies, I gave in. Well, with a little less of a smile, it was just the two of them.

The next day, I again went to the porch and I took the cookies just in case Cliff and his friend returned. They did, but he also brought two additional friends. With a weaker smile, I offered each a cookie. That included the two I had put aside for myself. Oh well, it was only four of them.

That evening, with a slight chill in the air, I retired to my room with the book and a very comfortable soft chair next to a window. Within five minutes I heard a soft tapping on the glass, and slightly startled, there outside the window was Cliff, and with two more friends, now bringing the total to six, and all with those same intent stares.

My smile stretched thin, and the innkeepers warning now echoing in my head, still, I gave in. Opening the window, the same scenario played out, take the cookies and fly.

Returning to the book, I stayed up very late wanting to finish it since I would be leaving tomorrow. As the morning light filtered into the room and I worked reluctantly to open my eyes, I detected a rustling sound at the foot of the bed. I slowly lifted my head and peeked over the sheets, and remembering I forgot to close the window, I now found eight birds sitting, patiently waiting for me to wake up and offer them a cookie.

I reached over to the nightstand where I had left my camera and peering back over the edge of the sheets I took this picture.

Now making myself decent, I walked to the dresser, got what happened to be my last eight cookies and explained that this was it, no more, besides, I would be leaving today. Just as before and without any hint of understanding, they took the cookies and flew off.

A few hours later as I was bringing my bags out for departure, I noticed sitting on my windshield a coupon for my favorite brand of cookies. I looked around and across the road, I saw Cliff sitting on a fence post. With coupon in hand and the sheer silliness of this cookie episode playing in my head, my smile returned. I tipped my hat to Cliff, as a thank you and goodbye, and he gave a slight nod in return, spread his wings, and flew away. Onward to Ukazoo.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Website: http://www.clhaupt.com

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 16

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 16: Skateboard

During breakfast at a small Bed & Breakfast among the hills of San Francisco, California, the innkeepers son, Narbendo, and daughter, Ramia were discussing this evenings Arts & Craft/Dance to be held at the West Side Community Center. Ramia, an art student, finding out that I dabbled with art, was insistent that I attend. Some of their discussion also centered around Ramia’s new boyfriend, Kirk Kirk Kirkpatrick, nicknamed “Stony”.

Problem was, Stony used to have ties to the “Rockets”, a rival skateboard group to her brother’s group, the “Alligators” and Narbendo adamantly didn’t approve of Ramia and Stony seeing each other.

That evening while attending the Arts & Craft/Dance both skateboard groups arrived at the community center and tensions between the two groups quickly accelerated. First, each group worked at one-upmanship in the Arts, who pulled off a difficult Graffiti, who found the perfect location for a Plein Air painting experience.

Not striking any boastful edge they turned to the dance floor. The Alligators, with some beautiful Middle Eastern moves and the Rockets kicking up a few Irish jigs, proved equally adept at Dance. Thus, is was only natural that they turn to skateboarding trash talk. A challenge was made. Tonight at midnight both groups would meet at an abandoned cement factory to determine who ruled the streets.

I, among most of the other evenings guests, attended the challenge event. Trick after difficult trick was performed and instead of the expected tensions accelerating, each feat was met with newfound approval from members of the opposing group. Slowly a respect between the two groups grew and Narbendo and Biff, leaders of each group, would give the final say to the two groups becoming friends and sharing their territories for future skateboarding events.

Narbendo seeking to embarrass Stony in front of Ramia, offered a final challenge. A bond of both groups would be recognized if Stony could take “The Hill” without falling.

“The Hill”, highest and longest in West Side area, crossed five intersections before ending at the bottom and adjacent to a shoe factory with 30 foot of parking lot between the bottom intersection and the building, a crucial distance for stopping at that speed. A very reluctant out of practice Stony agreed. As he remembered, once a Rocket always a Rocket.

I took this picture of Stony as he started down the first incline. Speed picking up and crossing each flat of an intersection met with a higher lift in the air before dropping back down several feet into the next incline, sparks spraying as the wheels connected to the surface.

Crossing the last intersection, Stony, in that last thirty feet to the wall, instinctively pushed down on the back of the board, managed to grab the front edge with his hand, turned it perpendicular to the wall and with a slight tilt drove the side edge of the wheels into the parking lot pavement. The board stopped inches from the wall but the momentum sent him crashing into it.

Everyone rushed down the hill and Ramia, first to arrive, dropped to his side, calling his name repeatedly for a response. What seemed like hours to Ramia, was in reality only a minute, but slowly Stony opened his eyes to all the group gathered around. He was sore but alive.

He took the hill without falling, stopping, Narbendo said, was another issue altogether. Narbendo proudly recognized a bond between the two groups and his assurance to not get in the way of Ramia and Stony’s love for each other.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of Journey to Ukazoo Slides are every Monday Evening.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 15

Posted by Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 15: Spaceburger

I took a room at a Bed & Breakfast in La Canada-Flintridge, California just at the base of the Angeles National Forest. The next day I made my way up 45 minutes of winding roads to the Mount Wilson Observatory. While part of the guided tour in the area that housed the main telescope, we passed a chained off archway leading to a smaller Dome. Inside this dome, connected to a vast array of computers was a very complicated looking telescope. Our guide mentioned that only someone with the highest level security clearance was allowed to look through that telescope.

During a brief moment away from the group, I whispered to the guide, if he let me look I promised I would never tell. He seemed satisfied but needed to confer with several head honcho scientists and security people. The general consensus was , they felt a stronger promise was needed. I offered a Pinkie Swear.

Upon a second conference they concurred that a Pinkie Swear would be acceptable.

Once all visitors had vacated the premises, I was escorted to the special telescope. While setting up to look through the lens, the guide recounted that six months ago, by accident, they spotted an immensely popular little planet co-owned by a prince of sorts. By deciphering intermittent radio frequencies it was believed the “Space Burger” Diner was universally famous for it’s burgers and had t-shirts made proclaiming itself as such.

With word leaking to major Fast-Food Corporations, their lobbyists pressured the Government and FDA to fund a space program to send a spaceship to the planet in question, buy some burgers, transport them back, and run their own in-house taste tests to dispel the “Best Burger” advertising claims. The telescope, meanwhile, was to continue to get a fix on the planets orbit, chart an accurate route, check for any toll stops, and the best times to avoid rush-hour space traffic.

As I was taking this picture through the lens, I happened to noticed several of the local occupants appear to be staring right at me. One in particular started some tapping with his finger against the crater wall.

Recognizing the tapping as Morse code, it read “We deliver, place your order”.

This was rich, but what the heck, I had a small flashlight in my camera case so I held it to the telescope lens and signaled back. “One Cheeseburger, LTM, One fries”. They tapped back CC#EXPDate.

Funny, funny, but I can ride a joke, so I flashed back my credit card number and expiration date. Had my chuckle, thanked the guide for letting me look and left.

Later that night, back in my room, in a comfortable chair, cup of hot chocolate, and a good mystery book, I noticed, for just a split second, a bright White light just outside the bottom edge of my door. I opened the door to an empty hallway but at my feet was a small bag with an attached register receipt.

Lo and behold, in the bag, a cheeseburger and fries. I looked over the receipt, Burger-$3.95, Fries-$1.65, Delivery $11,345.14. After one of those “Mouth dropping to the floor” moments I relooked at the receipt and noticed the small print at the bottom. “First time customer-Free Delivery”.

It was by far the best burger I have ever had and the fries were pretty good too but relooking at the delivery charge, I don’t think I will place a second order any time soon.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of Journey to Ukazoo Slides are every Monday Evening, Except Slide 15 which will post Sunday Morning, Sept. 8