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124 pages

English

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Short stories of adventure, life, and insight into growing up when time was spent in nature and living the true spirit of the west. The stories are true, most are from my life in southern and the far north of Idaho. My life was lived and written about from the perspective of someone who used crutches or a wheelchair to amble about. People, animals, and nature-filled my cup to the brim. One can ask for no more. My family made me who I am by not treating me any differently than my siblings. I was expected to do what was needed for the welfare of all. Friends have completed the journey. I am grateful.

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Personal Memoirs

Biography

Autobiography

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Publié par	Xlibris US
Date de parution	27 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669846284
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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TALES FROM THE HIGH LONESOME

Volume 2

L. Scott Hancock

Copyright © 2022 by L. Scott Hancock.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916771
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4630-7

Softcover
978-1-6698-4629-1

eBook
978-1-6698-4628-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Cover Photo By Jamie Reimer.

Rev. date: 09/27/2022

Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
843594

To Elisa, E.C. Stilson, violinist, author , journalist, inspiration
CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgments
Haagen-Dazs On The Half Shell
You Never Know
Legendary Eats
Motorhome Sailing
Losing a Friend
Gatherings
Boots ’n’ Beans
Books
A Henry’s Lake Surprise
Overboard
Mr. Barber
Old Brown
Seems like Fall
Shining Angel
Simple Importance
Vanishing West
Trestle Creek
The Cardboard Nativity
Wisps of Smoke
The Simplest Christmas Tree
Tying Up Loose Ends
Waters of Spring
Hebgen, August 1959
Joseph and the Starship
Front Porch Time
Kienholz
Words, Including Grace
The Great Pumpkin
Somebody’s Gotta Do the Thinkin’
Potato Salad and Easter
The Bee Tree
Sublime Moments
On Hunting
Pop
A Thanksgiving Gift
Perspective
Odds and Ends
Moose Lodge #387
It’s Been/Will Be a Year
Idaho State University, 1971
Hash Slingers, Chili Dogs, and Oldsmobile’s
Fine Writing Instruments
Damned Tree
Code of the West
A Christmas Letter
Cleanup
Cemeteries and Memorial Day
Boone
Comments
Eulogies and Thoughts
The Bamboo Frond
My Ode to Wayne
About the Author
PREFACE
Southeast Idaho is my birthplace, Pocatello, the actual town with the sagebrush, pines, lakes, rivers, mountains, and mine from the beginning. Those of us fortunate to be natives call it Yellowstone Country. That massive caldera along the Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho border is in my blood from ancestors homesteading the Teton Basin and farmlands with my parents forging much of their young lives there. Early on I contracted polio, some say I was the first case in Idaho, perhaps but many suffered far more than I did. I witnessed suffering with long stays at the Elks Rehabilitation Hospital in Boise. My mother helped start what was called The Handicapped School first located at Idaho State University. Life was rich with an extended family that treated me the same as my siblings. I always followed many trails, especially after graduating from Idaho State University in 1971.
Eventually, I ended up in North Idaho for employment in social services and then started my own construction company in 1983 which I actively ran until late 2018.
I moved back to Southern Idaho in 2018 to be near the last of my family and married again after losing a wife to cancer. My first book, Tales from the High Lonesome came about after the move.
My tales are stories of people, places, and remembrances from my life. Everything is true as I recall. I have a book compilation of my weekly articles written for the Island Park News , Island Park, Idaho. The IP News has given me my voice for almost three years now, and I deeply appreciate that generosity.
A section in the back contains comments from friends and readers. Lastly, it ends with “Eulogies and Thoughts.” They are writings that are self-explanatory. They are eulogies for old friends and thoughts that can be applied in everyday life everywhere in America. Changing the place names and people involved gives the ideas credence.
My hope is the stories bring back good memories and evoke warm feelings in your heart. Readers guide me in speaking of how much they love my simple, down-home tales. High-caliber journalists and commentators can give you their story, I just want to bring a smile to your face.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book or any book has lots of people who see it to fruition.
First in line of thanks is my wife Colleen, my immediate proofreader who catches lots of early errors. Secondly, a huge debt of gratitude is due to Aaron Spickelmire for his painstaking editing. His work was perfect. All errors after his editing fall on my shoulders for items I added.
Overwhelming gratitude to my readers of the Island Park News, my editor there, Ann Anthony, and my beloved Elisa, (E. C. Stilson) who got all this started some years ago.
Lastly, to all my family and friends who encouraged the first book and now, this one.
Heart felt appreciation and thanks goes to my first editor at the Morning News , Elisa (E. C. Stilson), she put the first book together and to Ann Anthony, editor of the Island Park News . They both encouraged and inspired me. The stories are from my columns. I hope you find some of them enjoyable. Hopefully after volume 2, the third addition will be out in the fall of this year. Thank you.
HAAGEN-DAZS ON THE HALF SHELL
J erry and Sunny were already on the little dock that harbored our pontoon boat when we arrived. It was a typically hot August afternoon on Lake Pend Oreille, and fishing was an option for a nice afternoon on our private little part of paradise, our dock; we called it poor man’s waterfront. So we decided to have a BBQ by the water instead. Before the BBQ was started, Jerry produced two small containers of our favorite Haagen-Dazs coffee-flavored ice cream. His wife Sunny handed him a butcher knife, with which he proceeded to cut the cartons in half from the top down while they rested on the dock, producing four half portions of the heavenly delight. In so doing Sunny next handed him large tablespoons; he then passed one-half carton to each of us with a tablespoon, saying, “There you go, Haagen-Dazs on the half shell.” It was a Jerry and Sunny masterpiece of humor and home-spun genius. The Kendalls had become our friends after we first met at our regular coffee rendezvous each afternoon at the Holiday Shores Marina at four o’clock called the Liars’ Club. This small group of friends produced fodder for many of my stories, with a cadre of old lake rats, fishermen, and boaters in attendance.
The Kendall’s were special. Their travels around the country and part of their life in Alaska were intriguing. Sunny was as her name described, Sunny and happy always. She was one of those rare people who can turn a really bad day into an adventure with chocolate chip cookies thrown in. She was truly one of a very special group on earth who made it daily a better place to live just by their smile.
As time wore on, our friendship deepened and grew as we gained knowledge of each other, families, and past. They were our beacons of humor and support whenever needed.
The years passed and the deer hunts to Priest Lake and countless hours of trolling on Lake Pend Oreille—looking at the clouds and feeling the warm breezes of summer turned to the cool drafts of fall—were priceless as we spent them together.
We didn’t talk much during these times. The power of the camaraderie was compelling without sound. As we trolled or sat on a deer stand, I could smell the delicious scent on his pipe often before I could see him. Rarely today someone will walk by with a pipe aglow, and it takes me back to those times on Jack Pine Flats at Priest Lake and to the choppy waters off Ellisport Bay and the islands of the big lake, Pend Oreille.
Over time Jerry started to feel the change in Bonner County, and he didn’t like it, a change that was bringing in lots of newcomers who were often not happy with where they had moved to because they wanted it to be more like where they left. Go figure? So he felt his itch that had moved him many times before. One day they were gone! Over the months they had moved their belonging into mini-storages in other counties until they could decide where they wanted to land next. That way, after coffee one morning at the Holiday Shores Café, they could just drive away without long goodbyes to friends. It was Jerry’s style, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to do it any other way. The world couldn’t hold Jerry, his quiet dreams and imagination pushed him on always. He and his beloved wife Sunny built houses as they went, doing it all, including plumbing and electrical, and passing every inspection because of Jerry’s background working for such giants as Johnson Controls. Block work, along with brick covering the walls they built, was part of the complete experience they wanted out of each house. Designed by Jerry and built by his hands as well as Sunny’s, nail for nail, board for board, slowly they went up with precision and sweat until the last coat of paint or varnish was applied. Singular masterpieces when done, they were sold and the Kendall’s moved on. We visited them up the Clearwater at their Lawyer Canyon home site in and around Kamiah, having annual spring picnics on Johnson’s Bar and watching elk feed on the far side of the Selway River. Those were times in my memory that rank at the top of the heap of the good li