For the first time in several weeks, the morning (July 6) was actually cool. After several nights in a screened backpack tent, I slept in the house yesterday and, without any covers, was awakened by the cold. This morning’s chill may be the result of the smoke from any or all of a variety of fires that blocked the sunrise. Or simply a benevolent change which, according to NOAA, will be short-lived. Mostly, the influx of smoke has been attributed to the fires just over the border in British Columbia.
Martha Cram died peacefully at home in Seattle a week ago, and we have been in touch with her husband, Bob, several times since. Martha was a dear friend and frequent golf partner, especially when she and her sister Joan played golf with Bob and me as a foursome. Ironically, only a week before Martha’s demise, there was a memorial gathering for Joan, who died last year.
When we had our little golf course here years ago, the sisters were usually the first to arrive, wanting to help with finishing touches to the course prior to tournaments. I miss them both. After a phone conversation yesterday with Bob, I am glad to say he seems to be dealing well with his wife’s passing after being her primary caregiver during several years of a prolonged illness.
Rick LeDuc, of Mazama Store fame, has a Montreal Canadiens hockey jersey hanging in the store, a symbol of his rooting for the team for many years. As he tells the tale, a customer asked his wife, Missy, why the apparel was on the wall and she, being a wise wife, dodged the question and referred him to Rick.
This led to a conversation between customer and fan, wherein Rick proclaimed his faithful support for the Canadian hockey team, and his regret that he’s never been able to watch them play in person. Distance and difficulty obtaining tickets had long thwarted his desire to see the team in live action. So the customer told Rick that he had a season pass and could get LeDuc tickets for any game. This has resulted in the LeDucs picking a time to go across the border to fulfill a dream trip. I have plans to hang my Green Bay Packers jacket in the store — who knows?
Living as we do 100-or-so feet from Highway 20, the passing traffic is a fair barometer of not only the number of vehicles passing by, but also provides a glimpse of what the local economy may be experiencing. We were rather surprised that there was a dearth of traffic compared to ordinary summer weekends, especially holidays such as Independence Day. Our unscientific conclusion is manifold: It was too hot on this side of the mountains for motorists to venture, and little better on the west side; there is a fireworks ban here; and there are restrictions on campfires at camping places.
Saturday night there was a pickup truck parked off the road across from us. On Sunday, the owner was under the hood and a friend in another rig was helping him. I wandered over to see if there was anything I could do for them, and they were waiting for another friend to come from Burlington with a trailer to take the dead vehicle there. It appeared the water pump had blown and even after refilling the radiator, the truck would not start. I asked the owner if he had been using the air conditioner driving over the pass and the light bulb went on — yes, he had. We decided that could be where the problem began. They got the truck on the trailer and were off.
Years ago my former wife blew out her new Subaru’s cooling system by having the AC on going from the valley to Washington Pass on a hot day. Turn off the refrigerator, roll down the windows and get some fresh air. It’s a short ride to downhill. Thus endeth the sermon.