Papa's Stories and a CHALLENGE

I just enjoyed the great pleasure of a long weekend in Spokane- believe me, you are all quite jealous. There was a parade of great food, some long naps and stories of old. I also got to read Jean's memoir, which inspired me- and I hope will inspire you too. This is meant to be an update on Papa's behalf. Please be reminded, that Papa tells these stories much better himself- this is more like the movie preview to help you plan your next visit.
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One of the things we did together (besides letting Papa make me breakfast, and watching Netflix) was to go to the DMV, so Papa could turn in his driver's license. Every one was impossibly nice. Papa explained that he wanted to trade in his license for identification card, and the woman was very supportive- nay, complimentary. They did have to re-verify all of Papa's personal info, and this I thought was interesting. When asked for the city and state he was born, he replied Rollins County, Kansas. The woman patiently asked for the CITY in the county, and Papa twice as patiently explained that he wasn't born in the city- he was born on a farm.

After the cards were sorted out we went to celebrate at the Old European, because darn, they make a good breakfast. Over breakfast, I asked Papa about growing up on a farm. He didn't think it was anything special, but I explained, I didn't grow up on a farm. So he told me a story:

During the summers, he would go to help out at his Aunt Lizzie's Farm. Once, when he was 8, his Aunt said "Billy, you like eating chicken. It's time you see how that is done." So she took him down to the coop, where they used a wire to catch a chicken by the leg. He asked her if it was ok- he was eight- and she said 'sure, it's fine' so WHACK, and he did his first chicken.

Papa went on to explain that he spent all of his summers out on his Aunt's farm. When he was older (and by older I believe he meant 10), he used to go out and round up livestock at great distance from the farmhouse, which meant he spent a lot of time on his own. As it was, there weren't other kids on this farm, so he got accustomed to being on his own. That is why he doesn't get the cabin fever Nana gets if he doesn't leave the house a couple days in a row. And that, he explained, is why he wasn't so worried about giving up his license and minimizing his mobility.

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Papa also told me about the first time he went to New York. He was in the Navy, and thier boat went back to the yard in Brooklyn where it was built. While he was there, Papa tried to get around to see everything he could think of he had ever heard about the City- the stadium, museums, parks- anything that popped into his mind he did. And he had a lot of help- a lot of the guys on the boat were from around the area.

There were three guys onboard who were polish, and they were all called 'Ski. He got to talking to 'Ski one day, and 'Ski thought he would really enjoy going into the City for a big Spaghetti dinner- it was cheap, and good. After their shift, they headed into the city, collecting some fellow sailors en route. All told, there were about 8 guys going along, all of them telling Papa how the subway worked, how to navigate the city and this sort of thing. In that time, before the war, these types of restaurants had a guy who stood up front by the windows and scooped up the Spaghetti. Papa thought it looked good, so all 8 sailors piled in. All 8 guys went on to explain the best part about Italian food- since Papa had never had it- recommending things for him to try. When the waitress, a no-nonsense girl in her thirties, came by to see if they were ready, 'Ski explained that they were just telling Papa about Italian food, since he'd never had it. She just rolled her eyes and said "Oh please, I know a Wop when I see one." Which gives Papa a pretty good laugh to this day.
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This last story is just to remind us all of what a man of mystery our favorite communist spy, part time actor, mountain man extraordinaire is. Nana told me that to make up the difference in wages when the family was living in Juneau, Papa took some accounting courses by mail so he could do some accounting on the side (!). Some years later, this really paid off when he was asked to be on the Auditing Board of his Credit Union. He explained that the Auditors didn't have to audit in 'adding up columns of numbers' sense, they just check in on various features of the bank to keep everyone paying attention. He gestured to a woman's photo on the Credit Union newsletter, and said one day he went in and asked to count the teller's cash. The woman in the photo was the head of the teller's at the time, so she volunteered to count it for him, since she was so quick. And "Zwiip...she counted up all the money. We were just supposed to check in on things like that, let people know we were watching." He had this gig from a few years before he retired to a few years after. He finally quit so he and Nana and Jean could go and spend 3 month living in Oaxaca. The head teller went on to be the President of the Credit Union, so she gets featured on newsletters all the time, but Papa knew her when.

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Here is the CHALLENGE: These are pretty good stories, but I don't think they are the best. I would challenge my fellow authors and readers to try and remember some of Papa's best stories to be collected here on the blog. Does anyone have the details of Papa's life in espionage? More from the good ol' Navy days? Any that just happen to involve Dad being a goofus? I'll boldly ask Papa to serve as our managing editor, and help us get the details of his storied life correct.