Summer Home

This is my summer home, I am glad to see it is still standing; I can’t wait to get it clean out and get it ready live in again. Last summer we went down and stayed for the 4^th of July, when I pulled into camp after dark I was met by the host, brother bear, he told me that the bees had moved into my home. When I finally found a flashlight, I also found 100’s of dead bees; I can’t wait to find out what’s in there after a long winter.

Left to Right - My Camp, Fire Pit/Cemteral Camp, Big Brother Bears camp (behing the green truck), buffalo butt sister (under the blue tarp), Moose's Camp (not shown)

When we were kids, my father had just retired from the Navy and was in the process of relocating us to Homer. As the details of the housing arrangements were still being made, we spent the summer in the Steelhead Campground in Anchor Point. It was quit amusing, every two weeks the park rangers would come to chase us out; he would tell dad that we were only allowed to stay in our camp for two weeks. So every two weeks dad would hook up the trailer and move it to the next camp spot, two feet away. After two weeks he would move us right back again. I remember, once he went to move it and found someone had stolen the tow ball from his truck, I believe it was the park ranger, he was going to get us kicked out one way or another.

I met my first Homer friend on the river; we would hang out on the banks of the river and watch the fishermen clean their fish. After they would leave, we would collect the roe and the sperm sack and try to make our own fish. We had all sorts of specialized equipment like play pots and pans, spatulas, and an answering machine beeper (remember those?). When she wasn’t around, I was with my siblings catching salmon fry or making new camping inventions like wood bins.

One cloudy foggy day, the campground was empty, and everything was so quite. My younger brother and I were playing outside when my older brother came strutting (cause that’s what a cool freshman does) out of the camper. I instantly found something else to do, bug my hero. I found out he was on a mission, to find out if he cold walk to the mouth of the river. My younger brother and I instantly begged to come along. As he walked away quickly, he yells back for me to tell my parents. So what so I do, I start running to catch up and yell back to my young brother to go tell mom and dad.

We had a wonderful adventure, we found that we could not walk all the way to the mouth and ended up back on the beach road. But along the way we found Chocolate Lilies, beach grass, and several new swimming holes. I was so happy to be just hanging out with my brothers we talked and played, not one fight erupted.

When we finally made it back to camp, three or four hours later, we were in trouble. Mom and Dad figured I had gone with Mr. Cool, but they had not figured my Baby brother was with us. With the river so close, they feared the worst. Big brother blamed me I blamed baby brother….we were all stuck at camp after that; everyone but Miss (pretend to be) Goody Goody.

This was the same year I learned about Marijuana. One day, at breakfast dad was looking in the trash for some aluminum foil to recycle as a drip pan for the bacon, as he un-crumpled a good size piece; he found a green leafy substance. The two older kids were immediately called into the trailer and I and my younger brother were exiled, without breakfast. The interrogations began, as I listened as best I could, I could hear Marijuana, I heard drugs, I heard denials, and I heard someone blame the 5 year old baby brother. As it turned out it was baby brothers weed stash….of PUSHKY (cow parsnip that’s what big city folk call it).