What the Heck is Going on here?

First it was Scotty of Star Trek. Then shortly after, Gilligan assumed room temperature. Now Agent 86, the nemisis of Chaos, Maxwell Smart has joined them. Icons of the 60s and 70s. Whose next Barney Fife? Meathead? Dan August? What really surprises me about these celebs from my youth that are dropping almost at a rate one per month is their age. Man they got old. *Note to myself check my own ID.

The trip to Junction City was amazing. I arrived at the closed sawmill which was tucked away off Highway 99 in a patch of alders, spiny maples and blackberry briers. It was early morning and the sun had just cleared the Cascades to the east, a bit of a cool nip in the air, clear sky and not a person in sight. I noticed a couple of 4X4s parked next to the vacant sawmill building but no one to claim their ownership. So I began wondering about the building, through the lumber storage area, the outfeed area and through the mill to the infeed or staging area. I started jotting down my initial thoughts about the building and its condition when I voice from behind me jolted me into the fight or flight mode. "Frankie Pirate", was the alarm.

Now my innate survival skills kicked in. No running needed, fighting may be a possibility but the shorts would remain clean enough for any future accident. I am only referred to as "Frankie" by those who have known me between birth and high school graduation. Most people in my adulthood call me Dad, hun, asshole or Mr. Pirate or simply Frank. "Frankie" has the tone of long endearment.

I turned around and out of the darkened area behind me came a boy, a man from my past. A man I instantly called "Joey" who had grown to look just like his dad. "Joey" who incidently told me goes by Joe now, and I immediately embrassed. (Yes the Pirate is known to hug men now and then). Tears filled both our eyes from the joy of seeing each other. Joey's dad and my dad were best friends when we were growing up in Valsetz. Our families had spent several vacations together camping along the Oregon coast and Central Oregon. His sister Cindy was in my class.

Throughout the day when we had the chance Joey and I found ourselves talking about hunting trips, fishing trips, camping and the laughs and sorrows we knew. Thomas Wolf was right you can never go home again, especially if you are from Valsetxz. But in some way spending the day talking and laughing with Joey, it was like going home again.