After starting Reflections, a list of potential essays was generated. Recalling incidents that had been experienced, there were some that stood out but did not warrant an entire essay. As these incidents were remembered, along with the emotional impact, the topic Panic & Fear came to mind. Panic was viewed as the inability to make any decision or making the wrong decision. Ina sense, Panic is a form of hysteria. Fear is to be afraid, afraid of terrible consequences. In a sense, Fear could mean severe injury or death! . Furthermore, it was believed Panic and Fear did not happen in the same incident. Well, as will be shown, they do exist together. Of course, it is difficult to know when Panic becomes Fear. There are several incidents that occurred during my life that will be revealed. One incident has been mentioned previously in the Outdoor Lifeessay. Thus, it is safe to say most of these incidents have never been previously revealed! All of these incidents, except one, occurred in either pre-teen or teen age years. These are the years when you know you’re indestructible and not subject to injury or death. Such thoughts never enter your mind. Each incident will have a title with an explanation of the situation.
Not My Child – Probably one of my first encounters with Fear occurred while growing up on Sebren Avenue. A young girl had been hit by a car on Harco Street near the entrance to Sebren Avenue. Harco Street was the main street that exited our housing development. I was standing with the on-lookers that had gathered before an ambulance or the police had arrived. I saw a car stop not far from the injured girl and a man emerge and hurry toward the child. His face was tense with fear that it was his child laying in the street. Once he saw the child was not his, you could see the fear drain from his face as relief replaced the fear. For me it was a telling moment what fear can do to your emotions. This incident also revealed the concern a parent has for their child.
Buck Fever – Buck Fever is a common form of Panic that afflicts deer hunters. The hunter encounters what he is hunting when Buck Fever strikes. Buck Fever takes many forms such as just standing and looking, forgetting to release the safety or working the action multiple times without pulling the trigger, and emptying all your cartridges onto the ground. Buck Fever struck me on a hunting trip with Dad near Lee Vining, California. Early one morning, just at sunup, we were driving to a place where there were several does, thinking we might find a buck with them since it was the rutting season. All of a sudden Dad said, “Oh, hey, look there!” as he pulled to a stop. There was a huge buck silhouetted on a ridge about 100 to 125 yards from the road. I grabbed my rifle from the back seat and went to the trunk for ammunition. I filled the magazine with five cartridges and one into the chamber, and I was ready to get my first deer. However, when I turned to shoot, the buck was gone. Buck Fever told me more than one cartridge was necessary should the first shot miss. In this case, there was only going to be one shot possible. Worrying about extra shots lost the chance for one shot!
Borrowed Bike Death Ride – About five or six neighborhood kids had gathered at the Sebren Avenue house with their bikes. Everyone’s bike was Schwinn-like with New Departure brakes. These brakes were activated when you pushed down one of the pedals, basically attempting to pedal in reverse. Applying the brakes aggressively locked up the rear wheel and a black skid mark occurred. What we were doing was riding a fast as possible from my house to the corner, applying the brakes and “laying rubber” or laying a “brodie”. A brodie looked like a “J” or reverse “J”, depending which way you turned the bike. After two or three brodies by everyone, some suggested using a different bike. Everyone agreed, and bikes were swapped.
There is no recollection whose bike I used, but I only rode it once. Having never rode this bike before, unbeknownst to me was that the kick stand was loose. Approaching the corner at about 15 MPH, I pushed hard on the left pedal and nothing happened. The loose kick stand was preventing the brakes from being applied! I flew off the curb into Harco Street. While still airborne, I looked up the street and saw a car coming. My only thought was “I am going to die!” I knew the car was going to run me over, and that would be the end. However, when the bike hit the street ,the kick stand moved, and I executed a perfect brodie in the middle of Harco Street. Plus, the driver saw what was happening and had slowed to a near stop. Getting up rather sheepishly, I thanked the driver, rode back to my house and asked for my bike back. Moral: Know your bike!
Colorado Lagoon Cannonball – Milo and I had gone to the Colorado Lagoon one day to play in the Lagoon and enjoy the sun. As previously mentioned, my swimming ability was essentially non-existent. As such, I never went anywhere in the Lagoon if I could not touch bottom with my head out of the water. This particular day I was feeling indestructible and would make short excursions into deeper water for shot distances. The Lagoon had a short all concrete “pier” of about 30 to 40 feet into the Lagoon. Milo and I had discussed swimming to the pier out near its end. I knew that most of the way would be in water too deep to touch the bottom. Well, as we neared the pier about 20 feet from its end, someone did a cannonball dive not far from me. I panicked and began failing trying to keep my head above water. I knew drowning was inevitable. Milo saw my distress and offered me a hand or one of his legs, I’m not sure which, and he pulled me to the pier. I scrambled onto the pier and walked back to our towels. My swimming attempts were done for the day. I still feel Milo saved my life that day.
Jackrabbit Fire – One summer Milt, Bud Reese and I went jackrabbit hunting in the Corona foothills near Lake Matthews. It was not yet rabbit season, but jackrabbits were considered a nuisance and could be hunted at any time of the year. Milt’s friend Bud, was just along for the adventure and was not hunting. Milt and I were heavily armed for this hunt: Milt was using his 300 H&H magnum, and I was carrying a 30-06! We were using these rifles for two reasons. Jackrabbits are notorious for running like crazy when flushed but stop and check back to see what scared them. They stop anywhere from 100 yard to 150 yards from you. That range is an accuracy challenge for a 22 Rimfire rifle with iron sights. So, the deer rifles gave a better chance of hitting the jackrabbit due to the bullet’s flatter trajectory. Then, shooting at a running jackrabbit was practice for our upcoming deer hunting trip. I had already shot one running, but we had not had one stop for a still shot. Then we flushed one about 25 yards or so in front of us. Milt and I were taking turns shooting, and it was my turn.
The jackrabbit stopped out at about 125 yards and sat up to see what spooked him. At this point I took aim, pulled the trigger, and watched to see the result. My shot missed the rabbit, raised some dust, and the rabbit took off run away from us. We stood there watching the rabbit run away, when I noticed the dust was still rising. That seemed strange, but then it hit me what was going on and it scared me. I said nothing to Milt and told him to hold my rifle, and I took off running as fast as possible toward the rising dust. I knew it was not dust but smoke. Somehow the bullet had started a fire. A fire out here in a totally dry area with brush and grass was dangerous, and I was running in a Panic! Then while running, Fear also came to mind. The fire was between us and our car, which meant we could be cut off from escaping if the fire spread quickly. When I reached the fire, it had burned at least a 10 foot circle. I began stomping and pushing dirt on the fire. Milt and Bud arrived about two or three minutes later to help put out the fire. We had the fire out in about five or six minutes. Now we tried to figure out what had happened. Our best guess was that the bullet hit the base of a shrub of some sort and somehow started the fire. It did not make sense, but that was the only thing that could be figured out. About a month later the reason for the fire was discovered.
I had been using surplus Army ammunition Dad had purchased which meant the bullet was a solid jacketed and not any type of soft nose bullet. However, I had noticed one of the bullets had Black paint on its tip. Scanning through Dad’s American Rifleman it was discovered that a bullet with a Black tip was an incendiary round! Therefore, the round hitting the base of the bush ignited the fire. Who knew?
Match Shooter Escapade – Most of you will need some “background” to grasp the essence of this Escapade. When growing up in the 1940s and 1950s, automatic clothes dryers were not a common household appliance. Clothes, bedding and other textiles had to be taken outdoors and hung on a clothes line to dry. These items were hung on the clothes line and usually secured with a clothespin. There were a couple different types clothespins, but the most common was a wooden, spring loaded pins as shown in the photo. The clothespin in the photo was typical of the ones used by Mom while I was growing up. Surely, most of you have seen this type of clothespin, because they can still be purchased.
Typical Clothespin, Circa 1950
Now I’m sure you want to know what is a Match Shooter? Two clothespins are taken apart and re-assembled. Best that can be remembered the two halves are inverted and the narrow ends are held together with tape, probably black electric tape. The spring is re-position and is located on the top of one half of the re-assembled pins. This new mechanism is a Match Shooter. The second pin is disassembled and one is used to “cock”, or arm, the Match Shooter. After the Shooter is “cocked,” a wooden match is inserted until the match head is against the spring’s end. When the spring mechanism is pulled back it releases the spring end that strikes the match head and the match is thrown about five feet. Of course, the match is burning in flight to where it lands.
Now to the Escapade! One summer while in Junior High School, the “thing to do” by most everyone was build and use Match Shooters. Of course, Milo and I were amongst those that built one. It must be said that my Match Shooter was by far the best! I could shoot a match further than anyone. About a week or so after making it, there became a need for more matches. No recollection why we were short on matches and decided to go the grocery store for some more. Rather than taking our bikes we decided to walk to the store. After leaving the store we walked the dirt road on the West end of the beet field. The following map has a Blue line that shows the way we intended to walk home. The large white building in the upper left corner is the grocery store.
Walking Home Path
The beet field is now a Long Beach city park. About mid-way down the road, on the left of the Blue line, is where the Girl Scout Ranch House was located. I’m not sure if it is still there or not. In any event, as we were walking along the road, I was loading my Match Shooter, firing a match into the dry grass, and stomping out the flames. After shooting about four or five matches, an improperly aimed match went through the chain link fence and landed on the Girl Scout Ranch House property. Well, you know what happened next, the grass caught fire. I tried to put out the flames, but the fence prevented putting out the flames. Now Panic set in, and I threw matches and Match Shooter down, and we began to run. As we approached the street into our housing development a woman called out, “oh boys, oh boys!” Apparently, she had been watching us and knew what was happening. We did not stop to talk to her; we were running as hard as we could to get away from my misdeed. After we got in amongst the houses away from the sight of the woman, we quit running and began walking. We decided to split up and not be seen together. I took several streets to get home. How Milo got home was in a similar manner. Once home I removed my shirt and did not wear it for quite a while - especially if using the dirt road for any reason. Neither Milo or I ventured outside the rest of the day. In fact, we did not use the dirt road for quite some time.
Milo and I met the next day to find out if either of us had heard anything about the fire. Neither of us had heard anything, although Milo said he had heard sirens that were probably fire trucks. When we finally went on the road sometime later, the fire had burned a large spot in the grass, but it did not come close to the Ranch House. This escapade produced Panic and Fear we would be discovered. Certainly, another lesson learned the hard and scary way!
The Infamous BBQ Ham Sandwich Incident – Panic and fear situations do not always involve incidents like those listed so far. These emotions can be triggered by something as innocuous as a BBQ Ham sandwich. Yet it happened, and even though it is embarrassing, it needs to be told.
The year was 1976 or 1977, while we still lived at the Sycamore house. Darry, Daren and myself decided to go on a September weekend deer hunt in the Eastern Sierra Mountains near Lee Vining and Mono Lake. We had hunted here previously, and it is where Dad and I had hunted several times. It is suspected that Russ did not accompany us because he had to work and could not get time off to join us (an educated guess). Since we were taking our tent trailer, the drive to Lee Vining would take at least seven or eight hours. Pulling a trailer in California at this time, the speed limit was 45 MPH. Thus, we left the house around mid-morning planning on arriving around supper time. Just after noon, we stopped in Lone Pine for a bite to eat. At a roadside take-out we ordered sandwiches and drinks to go. I ordered a BBQ ham sandwich, the boys ordered whatever, and we went on our way. We arrived at the campground late afternoon and setup camp. After fixing dinner, we discussed the next day’s hunt and what time to begin hunting. After putting out the campfire, we went to bed. Somewhere about 2 A.M., I woke with a terrific stomach ache and a “red light” bowel warning. Once out of the trailer, the rest room was too far away, so relief came amongst the pine trees. Back in the trailer, I was thinking what the morning’s hunt would bring. Another trip to the pine trees left now question that hunting was out of the question.
Returning to the trailer, I did not feel well and knew more trips to the trees were going to occur. The decision was made to skip hunting and return home. Best that can be remembered, Darryl and Darren were now awake because of my trips to the trees.I told them about my trips to the trees, and reluctantly and told them we were going home because I felt lousy. Everyone dressed, cleaned up the camp and prepared the trailer to go home. It was 4 A.M. as we began to leave the campground when I remembered Bev’s request for pine cones. So, I stopped and had Darryl and Darren go out amongst the trees and pick-up some pine ones—in the dark! I’m sure there was grumbling, but whatever Mama wants, Mama gets! Once the prized pine cones were gathered, we left the campground.
I was driving although Darryl probably had a driver’s license. The tent trailer weighed 3500 pounds and Darryl had never pulled a trailer. I believe Darryl not drive was fortunate. We had just descended Deadman’s Pass, when the “red light” went on again! We were approaching the June Lake Loop area, and I knew there was a rest stop with rest rooms. Deciding to make this rest stop, the 45 MPH speed limit was ignored, As I sped up the “red light” burned brighter. The brighter the light the more the accelerator was pressed. As we hit 70 MPH, the panic questions was can I make it, or is the driver’s seat going to be a mess? We made the rest stop, now the question was would I make the toilet in time? I parked next to the toilet, go out, and told Darryl to drive the car and trailer to a regular parking spot. Thankfully, I made it but just barely! The panic was over. Although they had a “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride”, Darryl and Darren were laughing when I returned to the car. I heard about the ride all the way home and for quit some. The whole episode caused by a tainted BBQ ham sandwich.
Concluding Remarks
Upon editing this essay, Cousin Carol inquired if these incidents were revealed to my parents. Initially I said no, I had not told my folks about my experiences. After all, revealing your every action to your parents is a certain death sentence! You know the boundary rules and only mention those incidents you believe meet those rules. While incorporating the edits, I began to turn the events over in my mind searching for long forgotten memories. Well, I stumbled across some faint memories of discussing certain incident with Mom or Dad.
Not My Child incident really made an impression on me, and I faintly recollect telling Mom about it. Best that can be recalled is that Mom’s response was, “Well, of course!” She knew full well how any parent would respond under the circumstance. Buck Fever, I know was discussed with Dad. After unloading my rifle and putting everything away, I knew the mistake I had made. When I got back in the car I told Dad how I blew the chance to bag the buck. Best that can be recalled, Dad agreed with my confession, and never said another word about it. In the Jackrabbit Fire situation, it is an educated guess that it was discussed with Dad. The discussion probably arose when it was discovered that black tipped surplus ammo was incendiary. As a parent, I’m not sure there are lots of things our kids never told Bev or me. It is possible they told Bev and I never heard a word about it. Moms’ have been known to protect their kids in this manner. The Infamous BBQ Sandwich Incident was witnessed by Darryl and Darren. I’m sure telling this story to their friends was a big hit!
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