Whimsical

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 26

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Basketball Plant

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 26: Basketball Plant

 

From Chicago, I meandered North for two days before arriving at a Bed & Breakfast in St. Ignace, Michigan overlooking Lake Huron.

As I stepped onto the porch of the B&B I noticed two basketballs and my initial thought was the innkeepers had children. Walking into the lobby/living room I noticed several more basketballs, some resting on chairs and a velveteen couch. My second thought, Basketball fanatics I supposed, and at that thought, I heard a loud trump on the wall coming from the opposite room.

Before I had a chance to ponder the source of the noise, innkeepers, Carmela and Jordan walked in and after extending a warm greeting, showed me to my room. True to form, in the room were two more basketballs for which Carmela apologized and removed without any forthcoming explanation.

At breakfast, eyeing another basketball in the corner of the dining room, curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask about all the basketballs. Carmela, anticipating the request, fixed a cup of coffee and sat down to relate the following story:

 

“Three years ago at a small garden shop in Chamberlain, South Dakota, Jordan and I bought a small unusual plant tucked away on a shelf, out of sunlight, and wilting very badly. Once back at our place, we re-potted the plant, watered it, and placing it in full sun at a living room window, it immediately revived. Like magic, the rejuvenated plant grew and several days later developed a center stem that started to form a bud. As the bud opened to flower, to our amazement, a basketball, we also noticed two hands started to emerge from the soil.

Four days later, with the basketball reaching regulation size and us attending to an issue in another room, we heard the sound of glass breaking. Quickly we ran in to find the plant, minus a basketball, the front window with a large hole, and the ball resting on the front lawn.

Mystified, we fixed the window and by week’s end, after another basketball bloomed, we happened to be in the room when the plant arched back and tossed the basketball just over the outstretched hands and through the front window again.

Well, we couldn’t let this happen a third time, so Jordan moved the plant to an adjacent wall. Five days later we witnessed the same scenario but this time the outstretched hands managed to block the shot and it flew backwards onto the coffee table knocking over a vase of flowers.

Relocating the plant to a sparsely decorated spare room, Jordan, with a sense of wry humor, decided to mount a basket to the wall, purchased a whistle, taped a foul line on the floor, and named the plant Julius and the hands, Larry. The only drawback has been, even with giving away all the basketballs friends, guests, and schools would accept, they still keep accumulating.”

 

By weeks end, Jordan, now attuned to that window of opportunity when the basketball might be thrown, made me aware a shot was on the verge and offered a chair to watch. I took this picture just as Julius arched back for the throw. I watched as the ball sailed towards the basket, hit the rim, and rolled around twice before dropping in for the score. Larry, just missing blocking the ball by less than an inch, snapped his fingers in mock frustration and then semi-relaxed with the anticipation of another future chance.

This morning while leaving, Carmela and Jordan bid me farewell and not surprisingly, offered me a basketball or two, or four. I willingly took two, promising I would give them to my grand-kids when I arrived at Ukazoo.

 

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

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The Cap

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 22

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Do You Want a Marble

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

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21FullSize

 

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

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Caterpillar

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

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Day at the Beach

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 18

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Picking Apples

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 18: Picking Apples

 

Day One:

In Oregon, I stopped at Draper Girls Country Farm to sample some wonderful apple cider. Looking for a place to stay, someone recommended a small farm in Rhododendron. The farm, run by Max and his friend, Melanie, had a cider mill of their own and this being the season, they were in full production and their cider, like Draper Girls, was superb.

Max and Melanie offered me a cut rate for lodging in return for pitching in with a couple of chores to help with a family gathering taking place over the next three days. As soon as the offer was accepted, relatives of various sorts started to arrive and with them came a variety of foods and various musical instruments for what would begin as an impromptu jam session.

One of my first chores was helping Max and a few others construct a small makeshift stage with a few spot lights and cousin Arlo rigged up a sound system. Once done the music began. Another cousin, Richie and his wife Mary Sweetwater started the music off. Next, brothers Bert and Tim and an exchange student named Ravi each added a couple of tunes. Max’s uncle David arrived in his classic 1951 Nash Rambler with his young but talented nephew Steve and at their turn on stage worked up some beautiful harmonies. Even Melanie and Arlo took to the stage for a couple of songs.

After a long day and getting very late, most of the kids retired to bed, but the adults became so involved in the calm flow of music that they ended up playing through the night.

Day Two:

As the music continued unabated, late arriving relatives and now several neighbors, who had filtered over to contribute a pot luck dish and tune or two, worked up a schedule of who would play next and Melanie, requiring more apples for desserts, asked Max and me to visit the orchards to fill a few baskets.

I took this picture of Max picking some apples at the edge of one orchards before we moved to pick various varieties from around the farm to complement different apple dishes.

By late afternoon a dead tired but very grateful Max watched as a fire pit was set up for some outdoor grilling and neighbors Joni and Keef made sure there was plenty of wood stocked.

Getting wind of the now growing music festival, several local bands and fans from nearby communities descended on Max’s farm to play. The afternoon drifted into evening with only one break in the music, by a short but steady light rain in the early evening, but the growing crowd paid no mind and several individuals engaged in a muddy slip and slide down one of the nearby hills. As the rain subsided, the music picked up and again continued through the night.

Day Three:

Now knee deep in kitchen chores to keep up with the food requests I was still able to listen to all the onstage appearances and managed to see quite a few. All day a mix of great food and fabulous music went on and as evening waned, the music came to a close. By 9:40 p.m. the last song sung, the last slice of apple pie wolfed down, the last ember of the fire doused, everyone, myself included, chipped in to clean up, break down the stage, and put things away.

All in all some 32 family members, individuals, and groups took the stage in a very peaceful three days of food and music, and with a crowd, by Max’s estimate, of around 400 people, a small Déjà Vu type of feeling had settled in.

Day Four:

At my departure the next morning, amid hugs goodbye, there on the front seat of the van was a basket filled with apple tarts, and a large thermos of apple cider. Good people I will always remember.

 

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

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Eight Birds

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

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Skateboard

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

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Spaceburger

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