Hits Just Keep Comin'... In Memoriam AGAIN

If I have any readers left after the shameful neglect I've exhibited, all or most are probably family and thus are, and have been, dreading this post... because they already know what it's about. Perhaps, after reading this section, the rest of you will forgive me. It's been a really rough coupla weeks.

For anyone who is unaware, the Songer clan suffered a devastating loss this January 17th, 2009. That's the day Allison's father Marion, the undisputed patriarch of our little branch of the overall family tree, suddenly and unexpectedly collapsed at home, and later that night passed away in a hospital ICU in San Antonio.

The minute we got the terrible phone call telling us Marion was sick, that he had suffered a sudden cardiac arrest (from Kelly Watson, Josh's betrothed), we immediately loaded up our car, hauled ass outta L.A., and headed east with all possible speed. All possible speed, in this case, was somewhere around 90MPH on I-10. We had quickly debated putting Allison on a plane, but we had no place to put the dogs and she wanted me with her... and I wanted to be there. Josh was already at the hospital; Michelle hopped the first flight out of Dallas and was on her way.

Time was most assuredly not our friend that night. Somewhere in the silent, starlight stillness, under the pitiless desert sky and among the jack rabbits and coyotes of southern New Mexico, came THE WORD. The empathetic, kind, exhausted ICU doc, who had for hours worked so hard to give Marion back to us, gave us all THE WORD at about 3AM and suddenly our lives were changed. Changed forever and now Allison, Michelle and Josh had to make THE DECISION. THE DECISION is a hateful, spiteful closet monster, an ogre every reader of this site dreads, the one we all hope we never have forced upon us. BUT... in the end, THE DECISION, when made thoughtfully and deliberately, is the supreme act of unconditional devotion that can be bestowed upon a loved one. The final gift that one's family can offer. 'Stop the recusitation efforts, no more shocks, stop now, enough, enough...'

And just like that, Marion was gone.

He was only sixty-four years old.

The following week was just a dreamily-recalled ensemble of those classical and customary preparations; questions, answers, tears and regrets, all shared freely between and among family, friends, co-workers...

Then with that sadness, poignancy and finality that takes your breath away... that lost, aimless emptiness you never get quite used to... it was done. Arthur Marion Songer was laid to rest next to his beloved wife, Allison's mother Diane, on Thursday, January 21st, 2009.

Here's to you, big guy. You had vacation time coming anyway, and I'll wager any amount of cash that the fish are bitin' where you are.

November, December, The Demon Boat, Etc...

If I still have any readers after what has been, even for me, an extended break: YOU WILL REMEMBER THE BAYLINER SAGA. That little floating piece of junk, while giving a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Small Craft Warning', occupied quite a lot of my time these last two months; the end result is something of which I am quite proud. Therefore, I'm gonna make you look at some pictures of it.

Special thanks to Father-in-law Marion and Brother-in-law Josh for their invaluable help with the approximately forty-eight million staples it took to reupholster the entire interior, including those damned curved (what Marion calls 'Kerfed') sideboards...



Another hearty 'Well-Done' to the folks at Rancho Marine Recycling in Rancho Cordova, California, for the bad-ass service and can-do attitude. They had the EXACT SAME boat in their junkyard, and went out of their way to sell me the impossible-to-find port and starboard glass. This was to replace a) the starboard window that got broken last winter when water puddled on my crap boat cover and caved it in, and b) the OTHER window, which had been replaced with Plexiglass in some Pre-Cambrian era before I became the damned thing's daddy, and had bugged me since the first day I brought it home.

Out Of Order... But I'm Trying To Finish Montana

Anyone who follows this thing will realize I don't always enter events in temporal succession; don't bother griping about that because I won't listen. Everybody I care about knows that the space-time plane means little or nothing to me these days anyway. Unpaid (and worth every penny!) journalists are not highly motivated for either deadlines or proper authentication of sources (although, having typed that and being too lazy to delete it, my Loyal Readers should note: I always double-check myself before posting anything of historical, geographic or geological importance).

WHATEVER. In September, my Mom flew from Denver to Billings for a trip to Yellowstone, and we went over the Beartooth Highway into the park for about four days. We took it easy, stayed in B&Bs just outside the park boundaries every night, and had a GREAT time. Here are some photos of that trip, in no particular order, and not very ambitiously edited for relevance...

By the way, these were all taken with our Hi-Def camera, and most are worth a click to get a closer view. As always, just hit your 'back' button to return to the post.

Mom at Plateau Lake, About 12,500 Feet Beartooth Plateau:


Giant Bull Elk NOT In Danger Of Being Gratuitously Shot:


Mirror Springs Volcanic Pool:


Geyser Basin Long View: Very Dante-esque:


Us At Lower Falls, Yellowstone River:


For those of my readers unaware, and who never watch Discovery (and I know you're out there, you Philistines!), you should know that Yellowstone and the surrounding area comprise what may be the largest active volcano on Earth; the magma chamber below the park is known to contain at least SIXTY CUBIC MILES of molten rock, all of it under inconceivably titanic pressures and strains. The last release, or 'super-eruption', by this monster covered areas in North America as far away as where St. Louis is now with 10-20 feet of abrasive, smothering crystallized rock... and altered the Earth's climate for thousands of years afterward. AND... the caldera's next burp is now forty thousand years overdue, based on historical behavior. DEEPLY, VISCERALLY COOL!

The whole park is covered with seismometers and GPS sensors monitoring ground movement; this place shakes, rattles and rolls like an exotic dancer with the hiccups all the time. That's why it's covered with geothermal features; the hot spot below is constantly trying to release pressure from high to low. ENTROPY RULES!

Volcanic Debris Field:


Bulging Crust By Firehole River:


Magma Curtain On Firehole River, See Note Below:


NOTE BELOW: If you read this thing at all, you will recall the pics from Devil's Tower in Wyoming. See the Black Hills post if you don't remember. Anyway, note the six-sided shape of these formations; they are exactly like (but smaller in scale) the ones that form the Tower... and there are sites like it all over the world.

Heck with it, I'll make it easy for you. Here's a link to a site that shows what I mean:
http://giantcrystals.strahlen.org/europe/basalt.htm

Hot Spring Dumping Into The Firehole River:


A Better, Unobstructed View Of Grand Canyon Of The Yellowstone:


Firehole River Valley:


Side Note: The Firehole River is so named because the valley through which it flows is COVERED with hot springs, geysers, mud pots, and large stretches where the ground is so hot that nothing can grow there. These hotspots migrate, by the way. All the time. We saw fully-grown, live (momentarily) trees ON FIRE because the dirt they grow in got so hot it exceeded the ignition point of their wood. CRAZY!

Mud Volcano:


Finally, Obligatory Old Faithful Photo:


I'm done. We're outta here this Wednesday, November 13th. Going home for Thanksgiving. Allison deserves some time off. And it's getting COLD here. Gotta get out before we have a zero night.

We Stayed Too Long Volume 1

There are a million stories in the naked city (actually, in Billings, that's wrong; only about 80,000). October 9th began like any other day, except that the weather guys were forecasting TWO FEET OF SNOW over the next three days. We (and just about everybody else here, it seems) kinda thought that was a little extreme; the proverbial tempest in a teapot, if you will. The temps had been comfortably in the sixties the last few days, and Madam Indian Summer had us comfortably cradled in her kindnesses and largesse...

KAPOW!! CRONK!! ZOWIE!! GADZOOKS!!! Campy Batman exclamations all, I realize, but SHAZAM!!

These are from the first day, and keep going, it gets more interesting:













Then the NEXT day:













...and I don't even HAVE any from Day Three, because I just got sick of having ice in my shoes. I don't often regret having dogs, but these are the times that try men's souls, and our girls have problems pooping when the snow is over their heads.

Anyway, by the time it was over, it had snowed without stopping (even for five minutes!) for FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS and we got over 30 inches...

That's all for now. Final word: WHAT THE HELL reason did anyone have to settle here in the first place? All I can come up with is that they arrived in, say, August (remember the post about the JULY blizzard?) and said "well, this is a nice place, I think we'll just dismantle our wagons here and stake a claim". Then by the time the snow flew, it was just "OH, CRAP" and it was too late.

Bye for now.

With Profound Sadness: In Memoriam

It's been a really bad coupla days here at the Billings KOA, so I'm gonna talk to you guys about it. I have here a little story for ya. It doesn't begin with 'Once Upon A Time' and it most certainly doesn't end 'Happily Ever After', BUT... it does have a moral, so you should read it.

Just after we arrived here, about the 3rd of May, we struck up a friendship with a couple from Sidney, Montana. Sidney is a little bitty town about four hours' drive north and east of Billings; the people I'm writing about today are named Tim and Jody Kohl.

Tim is a professional, a highly-skilled operator of a very specialized, gigantic machine that takes all types of scrap metal and shreds it into pieces about the size of a playing card. You get the point; after he's done with the junk, it can be easily re-smelted and recycled. He has been working under contract with an operation here in Billings for about six months; he and Jody have a 5th wheel similar to ours. They come here for about two weeks at a time, always stay right by us, and have been doing that all summer.

We met them right after we got here; they are about our age (well, MY age anyway) and are just the nicest people you'd ever wanna meet, real salt-of-the earth, no airs or drama, just a kind, normal couple. They've been married 27 years, and are still obviously very much in love. We barbecued together, walked the river together, shared RVing stories and tips, watched over each others' stuff when one of us was outta town, blah blah blah... and we've become quite close.

NOW, Jody has had a disease, a vicious, progressive autoimmune problem called Scleroderma. She's battled it for about 20 years, and it is one hateful, malicious son-of-a-bitch (sorry about the language, kids, but I am FURIOUS about this). By the time we met Tim and Jody, it had already cost her most of her fingers and toes, by way of circulatory and inflammatory problems that result in amputation. During the time we've known them, just this summer, she's lost four more digits, and by last week only had two thumbs and her pinkies remaining.

Despite this madness, Jody is always upbeat and positive, a warm and indomitably cheerful lady with a ready smile and, as far as we could see, absolutely no sense of self-pity. We just love her.

Yesterday, Thursday October 17th, Tim went to work for the first time since the latest round of surgery. He had stayed home at the trailer for several days... but the amputation process for them has, by now, become kinda routine (imagine THAT, boys and girls, if you can!); Jody said she would be fine and he should go on to work... so that's what he did.

As has become my habit when Tim is away, and especially after another surgery, I checked in on Jody about ten yesterday morning. The KOA is closing down for the winter; they were cleaning out the ice cooler, and they were just giving its contents away so they could get it outta there and turn off the machine. I know Tim and Jody don't have their ice maker hooked up, so I got a bag and took it over there. Knocked on the door, Jody yelled at me to come in, and I took the bag in and put it in their fridge. Talked to Jody; she was all wrapped up on the couch, feet and hands all bandaged up but, as always, this lovely, courageous woman smiled, and thanked me... and that was the last time anybody ever saw her alive.

About noon, we noticed (and were unsurprised) that Tim had arrived home; we thought nothing of it, as he is very diligent about checking on Jody and often comes at lunch to help with her medications. Next thing we knew, we heard sirens: close, then closer, now right next door. With an icy hand gripping my heart, I sprinted next door, and through the window I saw Tim. He was sobbing, head in hands. The paramedics hauled ass inside, tearing open packets of IV materials and other stuff, so I just stood outside listening to the anguished cries emanating from their just-this-morning-happy home.

The paramedics emerged in less time than I have ever seen, probably under five minutes, and started packing up their stuff; my worst fears were now confirmed. Tim appeared at the door, saw me standing helplessly by and, as if his heart had been torn from his body, "Scott... oh, Scott, SHE DIED!"... I will never forget that cry, it sounded like a puppy hit by a car... being a guy, I had only minimal help to give, so I just took Tim in my arms, helped him sit down, and ran like hell for my personal, professional grief counselor/trauma nurse Allison.

Well, we spent the next three hours dealing with the Chaplains, both from Yellowstone County Sheriff and Billings PD, and then the County Coroner came, and then a local funeral home arrived and loaded Jody into a Chevy van, a fricking CHEVY ASTRO, for Chrissakes!!! Oh, my, Tim was so CRUSHED... he had to call Jody's mother, and his and Jody's son, and oh, God, what a mess. We felt so bad for him, he loved her so much...

The stupid stock market, the recession, the 'Credit Crunch', whichever incompetent, self-serving, pompous moron gets to redecorate the White House, and everything else... they all mean less to me today. They all mean NOTHING today. In the end... loving, BEING loved; precious, irreplaceable connections with those who care for us; these things are all that matter. Find someone close to you and TELL THAT PERSON YOU LOVE THEM. Do it NOW.

You never know when it may be your very last chance.

That's all I got in me right now. Sorry about the bummer post.

S.

Deadwood. The Black Hills. Mount Rushmore.

Just adding photos right now. If you actually READ the crap I write, or care about the captions, close this page now and check back tomorrow. Maybe my muse will magically appear and there'll be more then.