Monday, December 15, 2008

"I Said Where I Come From...."

(me at 19 out driving my kinda logging road)
"....its cornbread and chicken... where I come from a lot of front porch sittin'....where I come from trying to make a livin'......workin' hard to get to heaven....where I come from...."

- Alan Jackson

Where I come from, we don't have cornbread or chicken. We have beer! And....
Beer! We eat a little salmon, maybe some BBQ steak.... watch some hockey..... and then drink a little more beer. Kokanee ("Its the beer out here") if you have it. We really are cliche that way!

Where I was born... there are mountains...

Beautiful waterfalls.....

And gorgeous ocean inlets....

Did I mention beer?!

(Poppie, my sister and I in the grater)
And...Logging roads. I spent a lot of time on logging roads in my day. In fact..I learned to drive on one! My Poppie had my sister and I driving stick shift up gravel roads before we hit seventh grade. In fact, so did my Mother...only she was driving in town long before she was of legal age (I might have as well...just a little! Shhh!) but Mom could drive a semi through a drive-thru (and still can.)
(Poppie on the left)
I come from a family of drivers...drivers that love to roam the back roads and take the long way home. Before the age of "carbon footprints" and long before you ever considered the cost of gas, my family thought nothing of getting in the car with no particular destination in mind and just "go for a drive." I miss drivin' round town with my Pops. He would tell the best stories as we passed old landmarks or roads that he helped cut and build. I loved the way he would point and explain anything and everything you ever wanted to know about that particular spot....who had cut it (logged) and when... how much dynamite it took to take down a cliff side or what local haywire so-and-so got drunk one day and did what... he had a story for everything. That town was as much a part of him as he was of it. And that town, nestled in the mountains at the foot of an ocean sound, is and always will be my hometown, matter where I live.

Thomas Wolfe got it all wrong.

You can go home again.


  1. I love the stories of your Poppie he sounds like he was a very interesting man. Tell us some more of the stories and adventures he had. Love your blog

  2. Lovely pictures! You can always go home. It's just a matter of whether or not you chose to. I didn't grow up in a family of drivers, but since I started seeing my guy almost 6 years ago, we have turned into avid 4x4ers. I miss not having to worry about what the gas will cost to cross that next valley or mountain range we are famouse here on the coast of BC. I need to get another truck!

  3. Very cool pics!

    I think our childhood were similar - maybe not alike - but similar. Some of my best memories are of riding around the back logging road with dad - drinking beer - for hours with no plan in mind other than to drive.

    Thanks for the trip down memory lane.

  4. Awww...what a sweet post! We always pack lunches and "head up to the hills for a drive," as we call it. Of course, it is not hard to do when the hills are right in your back yard. :)

    Some of my first posts were about our rides in the hills and you should check out my logger's rodeo/log show posts (June 2008). There are some good looking guys on!!! Sorry DB!!

    Kokanee beer, eh??? A lot of the folks down here drink that too! :)
    So I am taking it that you live right up above us...above western WA?? (The inlets give you away!) For some reason, I thought that you lived above eastern WA.

  5. Magnificent country Chelsi.

    I believe you are a lot like your poppie...interesting and articulate with a wonderful, colorful personality.

  6. Road trip! Thats what my family did for fun. I, to this, day will still do a road trip when I need to relax and do some thinking.

  7. I have a lot of similar memories. It was me and my dad. Dad was a truck driver for much of his life and we used to take lots of road trips and afternoon drives too. Everybody else would always fall asleep, but not me. Some of my most fond memories of my dad are riding alongside having endless talks. He taught me road etiquette, told me tons of stories, emergency braking maneuvers, snow and ice driving and there was always old country AM radio. Good times. I miss him. But, today you have reminded me of him, so thank you.
    Your pictures are beautiful and so are your stories of your life.

  8. I love reading your blog. I can't tell you how much you make my mind run of the good times with Pops, the boat, the driving and yes the beer. He was one of a kind and I miss him every day. Thank you for writing about him, I never will be tired of hearing of him and his stories.