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[ Friday, May 16, 2008 08:41 ]

Legacy Journal: Billy and the Bike: A Memoire of Deschutes Country

Section:
Personals

Summary:
Coming of Age Rites of Passage in the west of the 50s

Main:
While exploring my expanding world as a curious ten year old in the summer of 1950 , I had CO-conspirators. We all lived the small safe central Oregon town of Redmond along the Deschutes River in lee the Three Sisters lava peaks of the central Oregon Cascade mountain range. My mate was my best friend Billy. He had a glint in his eye, a gloss to his rusty hair, and loads of high energy GO to his gait. He was part Welch.

Billy was clearly an athlete at an early age. He was quick, fearless, never tired, and enjoyed being at the center of the action. Well muscled, short coupled, and low to ground, he had a Strong neck that supported a symmetrical head, a slightly dished nose, small ears, long eye lashes and a pixie like face. Together, we would chase wild mustangs on BLM sagebrush benchlands, fish for rainbow trout in the waters below the falls or behind beaver dams, visit Paiute Warm Spring Native American obsidian arrowhead sites, and follow the deer grooved game trails to where every they might lead. Little did we know ,or care, that the Pathfinder, John Charles Fremont of the Corp of Topographical Engineers, had surveyed and journaled the area along the Dalles to California corridor on horseback in the fall of 1843 during his second expedition. One of his party was a young Wasco Indian tribal youth who would return after to Chinook country as a Warm Springs leader after his education in the east. He was called Billy Chinook.

However, our adventures were partially informed from local sources. One was the summer book reading list for kids at the local Carnegie funded public library. Walter Farley’s Black Beauty was on the list. Part of the pleasure of that place was to see the stars add up behind your name on the bulletin board as each book was checked out and mostly read. The librarians seemed to have a sense of the kind of books that mattered most to us. Adventure and discovery stories fit well. My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. VanNice , may have conspired with the librarians. Second, our adventures, both real and imagined were supplemented by the Saturday matinee at the Odem movie theater where the serial was as likely to feature Roy Rogers and his palomino horse Trigger as not. After the popcorn fueled bad guy chase and roundup, it was time to hit the bar next door for some phosphate refreshment. We were a one soda fountain town.

Buck, the hired man was another enabling adult. He was from a ranch in Oklahoma where the grass was green and lush, and he seemed knew the trick of raising kids. “ Put them on the right horse, and give them free rein” was his motto. Like Billy, Buck had reddish hair, sported appropriate footwear and exuded a bit of the dare. His faded blue jeans matched his eyes and fit the lean arch of his lower frame like a second skin. Buck skin groves were holstered at the ready is a soft loop on convenient right side of his thick black strap leather belt.

Both Billy and Buck were disappointed by my July birthday present that year. Dad thought it was time for my first bike and that bike changed everything. I was rapidly transitioning during my teen years from single horse power to pedal pushing to the internal combustion engine.

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Posted by: webscribe2 on 05/16 at 08:41 AM
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