Hands Over Hearts

 Hands Over Hearts

Noel Laflin

4-22-22

I frequently write about Camp Ahwahnee, and the years that I spent there as a counselor.

What I like about this old photo that appeared quite randomly one day on the group's FB page is that it rekindles first faint memories that I have of being there - I would have been six that July day in 1959. I know I was there as I found both my sister and I in another couple of snapshots my parents took that same day. And then while zooming in on this picture I recognized my brother's troop hoisting the flag. It was a special dedication ceremony honoring a local lad who had died and the campsite named for him. Looking more closely I then spotted both my mother and father in the crowd. And that was a pretty cool 'Ah, Ha!' moment.

So I guess the love we had with the camp was a family affair going way back in time.

I sure do miss the place, but am grateful for all the memories, especially seeing my mom and dad standing here, frozen in time, with hands over hearts.

Hollyhocks

 Hollyhocks

Noel Laflin

4-19-22

The backyard hollyhocks finally decided to bloom.

Seeds were gathered from wild ones growing on a nearby vacant lot last year. And since there are none on that vacant lot this year, I'm heading over there tomorrow to let it know that the kids now residing in my yard would make them proud and are growing up nicely. The stalks are about seven feet tall currently, and have no intention of stopping apparently.

And there's booms aplenty for the foreseeable future.

Tea Eggs

Tea Eggs

Noel Laflin

4-14-22

David makes these on occasion - a dozen or two at a time - and when he does, they disappear quickly. Being Easter, it seems like a good time to show one off after the shell is peeled away.

It's a hard boiled egg prepared in dark tea, instead of water. David reminds me here to let you all know that green tea will not produce the same flavor; oolong or Lipton regular tea works best. He uses both. There are several other ingredients also added to the boiling mixture including brown sugar, cinnamon, soy sauce, licorice root, anise seed, and a little dry chili.

There's a shell tapping technique applied as well, which allows the dark tea mixture to seep into each egg, giving them the cool dark designs.

Once the eggs are boiled, the whole batch of both eggs and liquid are allowed to cool and put into the refrigerator (cooking pot and all). The next day it's put back on the burner and slowly put to a boil again.

Then, Voilà!

And they are tastiest when eaten warm. With soy in the mixture, there is no need to add salt.

You can purchase warm tea eggs in every 7-11 store in Taiwan, as they are a national snack there. But I've got to tell y'al, David's are better!

They are simply yummy!

Happy Easter, Taiwanese Tea Egg Style!

Dancing

Dancing

Noel Laflin

4-13-22

David and I met twenty-two years ago today - in the old fashioned way - a bar.

I walked up to him and asked if he would like to dance, as a two-step was playing at that moment; but he declined, saying he did not know how.

Offhandedly, and to my own surprise, I said I'd teach him. It's the best line of my life, now thinking back on it.

And I did - starting the very next night.

Consequently, and most happily, we've been dancing through life together ever since.

Cribbage

Cribbage

Noel Laflin

4-14-22

Although my back was to the folks sitting behind me, I couldn't help but recognize the game they were playing when a woman's voice began calling out 15-2, 15-4, 15-6 and a pair is 8.Then a man answered in similar fashion, but with less joy.

Cribbage, I thought. They're playing cribbage.

I stood up and turned to look, and sure enough, they were. The game ended shortly thereafter with the wife claiming victory. The husband smiled at me and said he was merely her victim - once again. The board was folded up, the cards tucked away, and the older couple shuffled off.

It's always a comfort when I hear cribbage tallies being called out, and watch the tiny pegs moving up and down the board. And although I was never very good at the game (I think basic math got in the way), my dad was a pro. He and my sister could play forever.

I came across a well-worn leather fold out cribbage board while going through my dad's treasures long ago. I recognized it, and recalled the stories he told of hours passed playing the game with fellow soldiers in Tunisia, Corsica, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and eventually Germany. I imagine the voices calling out the tally, curses liberally interspersed by the losing side, a cigarette lit and the match providing the light carefully set aside in case a peg was lost. I picture my dad moving with the army from one continent to another, and carrying a small comfort from home in his jacket pocket, ready to unfold the board at a quiet moment's notice, withdraw a small deck of cards from another pocket and then look for a new victim.

A Pretty Good Friday

A Pretty Good Friday

Noel Laflin

4-15-22

It's Good Friday 2022, and I'm thinking about another Good Friday some fifty-five years ago instead.

I was fourteen and in need of one last merit badge in order to qualify for the Eagle rank in Scouting. And I knew the last one needed, Lifesaving, was going to be a challenge both mentally and physically as I was not the world's strongest swimmer. So when the Junior Red Cross offered a week long course at our local high school over Easter break back in 1967, I signed up. They guaranteed that if we passed this rigorous week in chilly waters, we'd qualify for everything asked of us in the Scouting requirements for the merit badge.

There were boys and girls both in this class, and I recall that I was teamed up with a nice girl my age. The week was intense with training and long in hours in the pool, but we all gained in strength and life saving techniques as the hours and days passed.

Good Friday was the last day of this course and in order to pass we had to demonstrate our ability to rescue a panicked swimmer.

The fellow they chose for me to save was a huge guy, twice my weight, who waved, smiled, and then immediately sank to the deepest end of the pool and beckoned with a wicked smile to come and get him.

He'd allow me to drag him to the surface easily enough, but then proceed to 'panic' and make things difficult from there on out, just as a real swimmer in trouble might do.

To the bottom of the pool we'd go, then up again, down again, climbing all over my bobbing head, pushing me under repeatedly, etc. Finally, gaining the upper hand, I was able to proceed with a correctly taught maneuver and swim us both safety to the side of the pool.

And with that, I passed the course, as did my teammate, and all those who'd stuck it out for the five days we'd traded sunny carefree time at the beach with our friends for cold chlorinated pool water instead.

I remember thinking at the time, and can reconfirm the very same feeling today - from, oh, so long ago - that it was a pretty good trade and a pretty good Friday at that.

Last Look

Last Look

Noel Laflin

4-2-22

Meanwhile, with the help of a hundred kids, the cabin took shape. With old two-man saws we scored the ends of the logs. We then turned them on their side and chipped out the large notches with hatchets struck by mallets. It was with some trepidation that we tested our first notched logs. They fit beautifully. We were off and running. There was always tinkering of some sort. Deepening or widening of a notch could be maddening, but necessary. Chain saws would have made a big difference too, but we adhered to our self-imposed rule, no power tools. Consequently, our tools were simple: hammers, axes, hatchets, bow saws, two-man saws, bark scrapers, and mallets.

The whole project seemed to take on Tom Sawyer-like qualities. I told the kids signing up for the Pioneering Merit Badge class that they would be expected to contribute at least one hour a day to the project. Many of those guys stayed all day, foregoing other activities and free time.

And just like that, or so memory teases, we built a cabin.

Thanks, Jim Donovan, for what just might be the last photo of our old cabin as it stood in Camp Ahwahnee. I had not seen this particular picture before, but it's now a nostalgic favorite. Jim took the photo in the fall of 1980. The cabin was built during the summers of 1972-73. When the Scout council closed the camp in 1980, the cabin was sold, dismantled - just like a giant Lincoln Log set - loaded onto trucks, and reassembled in a neighboring Boys Club camp seven miles away. The Running Springs fire of 2007 destroyed their camp, burning every structure to the ground, including the cabin.

But we've got Jim's photo here. And for that, I am most grateful.