Author: crittersandcats

Here’s A Kid Story

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Pat reminded me of this one. The boys, Russ and Doug, must have been 10 or 11 and that would make Terri about 8 or 9. After supper we had gone to visit our friends, Roy and Lois and their kids. Roy’s horse was sick and a Veterinarian was there tending to her. When we got there, the vet had a big plastic syringe in his hand. It didn’t have a needle on the end of it so he must have used it to squirt some anti-biotics down her throat. Russ asked if he could have the syringe to use as a squirt gun. The vet was a good guy and let him have it and the kids ran off to play. We visited for a short time and then went home. It was getting close to dusk and the kids were playing in the front yard. They were squirting each other with the syringe and taking turns climbing the olive tree and were just doing what kids do. Pat was working in the kitchen and could glance out the window from time to time and see that the kids were okay.

A couple of the neighbor girls from down the block were riding their bicycles up and down the sidewalk. One girl was making snide remarks to Russ as she went past. We suspect that she might have had a crush on him but didn’t know how to deal with it. They kept riding back and forth and the one girl added name calling to her insults. Pat had the kitchen window open so she overheard some of the remarks. The girls quit coming by so Pat figured they had gotten tired of their game and went home. What she didn’t know was that Russ was sick of the girl and her comments and told her that if she called him one more name he was going to pee on her. Well, she pushed her luck and when she came by again, Russ squirted her. She screamed and rode off and didn’t come back.

A little later, an El Cajon police car pulls up to the curb and an officer gets out. He heads for the front door, and the kids, being curious, fell in behind him. Pat had seen the car pull up and she headed for the front door and yelled at me. “Good evening, Ma’am”, says the cop. “Are you Mrs. Thomas?” “Yes”, says Pat, “What can I do for you?” He says “I need to talk to your son Russell”. “What’s it about” asks Pat.” “The little neighbor girl says he urinated on her”, said the cop. “My son would never do that” exclaims Pat. Just then, I’m joining them at the door and heard Russ say “Í didn’t do that”! “I saw the water stains on her clothing” the cop says. ”Well, I just squirted her” says Russ. “Why don’t you show me what you did” says the cop. “Okay”, says Russ, “I put the thing in the garage.”

Russ headed for the garage with Pat and I, the cop, and the rest of the kids falling in behind him. The big overhead door was open and Russ got the syringe from where he had put it and took it over to the deep sink where he filled it with water. He then demonstrated how he held it down at his side, out of sight, and then squirted the girl as she rode past and called him a name. His story was quite convincing and the cop turned to Pat and I and grinned. Then he put on his “stern” face and turned back around to Russ and told him that he was keeping the syringe to show to the father of the neighbor girl and after this, if anyone bothered him, he should just go in the house and forget it.

Dave and Pat Thomas
August 10, 2016

 

Tim McGraw

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Last season NBC started airing a new show called “Who Do You Think You Are?” It’s sponsored by the genealogy-based website, Ancestry.com, and they take a celebrity and trace that person’s ancestors back as far as they can. They visit locations in the U.S. and even go back to Europe or Africa or wherever the quest takes them.

Pat and I were watching an episode last night featuring country singer, Tim McGraw. The story told how Tim thought his last name was “Smith” until he was 11 years old and found his birth certificate and learned that his name was really “McGraw” and that led him to the fact that he was the son of Tug McGraw the baseball player.

As they dug into his story, Tim learned that he was part of a pioneer family in Missouri named Chrisman. The Chrismans were tracked back to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia during the 1700’s. The story told how the Palatines fled religious persecution in Germany and traveled to England and then were recruited to travel to America. Upon arrival in America the people became indentured servants as the British forced them to work off the cost of their passage. The next revelation was that an earlier ancestor was named “Yost Heyd”. Yost Heyd was apparently an enterprising man and went from being an indentured servant in 1710 to being the largest private land owner in Virginia and was known as “The Baron of Shenandoah”. A young surveyor who was surveying the state recorded Yost Heyd’s name in his journal and probably knew him well. That young surveyor was George Washington.

While Pat and I watched the program, I began to perk up as I heard words like Palatine, Shenandoah, and then “Yost Heyd”. I remembered those names from several years ago when I was posting information and names to my Family Tree Maker database. After watching the program, I went to the computer, opened Family Tree Maker, and did a search on “Yost Heyd”. Sure enough, he popped up and the program said he is my 7th great grandfather! So, Guys…Tim McGraw is your cousin! I know that all of you guys would like to say hello to Tim and would certainly enjoy meeting up with his wife, Faith Hill.

Dave Thomas 11/12/2012

Tim -Faith

 

Tim McGraw and wife, Faith Hill. 

 

I Remained Calm

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The 4th of July weekend was a great time for Pat and I this year. A lot of our family members were able to visit and make it special for us. Visiting from northern California were our grand-daughter, Michelle, her husband, Tony, and their 4 ½ year old daughter, Quetzal. If you are wondering, a quetzal is a beautiful South American bird and it rhymes with “pretzel”.

Pat and I have not been around a 4-year old for quite some time and had forgotten how active they are. They run rather than walk and their little mouths never seem to stop. One minute, Quetzal, will be down on all fours, pretending to be a tiger, and roaring at the top of her lungs, and the next minute she will be talking quietly in a well-modulated tone and using the most adult words she can think of.

One day, lunch time was approaching, and I was seated as I prepared to give myself an insulin shot. The “Q”, Quetzal, was standing by my knee and her big eyes were taking it all in. She watched for a short time and then said…”I got a shot at the doctor’s office, once. I didn’t cry. I didn’t whine. I remained calm”. She said it with such seriousness that I almost laughed but managed to tell her that I would try to remain calm as well.

Dave Thomas
July 11, 2016

 

Palapa In Yelapa

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Palapa

 

When I was talking with Doug the other day he mentioned that Penny had purchased some indoor-outdoor carpet for the larger palapa in their back yard. (For any of you not familiar with them, a palapa is an open-sided beach hut with a thatched roof.) This got me to thinking that Pat and I once saw a palapa in Yelapa. I’ll try to clear this up for you. Yelapa is a settlement in Mexico that is located on a beach that is a couple hours boat ride south of Puerto Vallarta. You take an excursion boat that has nice bench seats and a canopy to protect you from the sun. It’s a beautiful boat ride on a blue ocean with varying shades of green in the jungle on shore. Your boat pulls up to a dock and as you get off you can see dozens of palapas scattered along the beach. Many of the palapas contained people selling trinkets and tourist stuff. However, the specialty of the place was pie! They offered coconut, chocolate and lemon meringue that was “to die for”. Another special activity was para-sailing. As you were lifted above the height of the tallest trees in the jungle you could see a beautiful waterfall. So, along with all the sights, thrills, and pies you also got to enjoy the sight of a palapa in Yelapa.

Dave Thomas
June 20, 2011

 

Hi Everyone!

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Hi Everyone-

I’d like to thank you for reading the stories on my blog, crittersandcats.com. I’ve posted a total of 125 stories, now, and hope you’ve found something that makes you laugh or means something to you. I started writing these little one and two page stories for my kids and grand-kids to tell them about Pat and I and things we’ve been involved in. I also wanted to remind the kids of some of the things we enjoyed or suffered through together.

One person asked if I enjoyed living in the past and he thought that I must miss the “good old days”. I had to tell this guy that the good old days are right now. A lot of my stories took place 50 or 60 years ago but could have happened this week. The year doesn’t really matter. What’s important or funny is what you were doing or thinking back then.

Today is a wonderful example of a good old day. I can hear my wife doing things in the kitchen. That’s amazing in that she received a Pacemaker two months ago. Though there have been some other medical issues, we are getting through them. She is still talking and laughing and petting the cat and feeding the hummingbirds and sitting in the swing and holding hands with me. She is making the most of every day. Back in 1950 or 1960, those so-called “good old days”, I would have lost her. Thank God for the technical advancements we enjoy today.

I haven’t been in the mood to write or do much lately but I’ve got a few more stories and will start posting them. They probably won’t make you feel any smarter but maybe I’ll get a laugh or grin out of you.

If you haven’t had much time to look around the blog, the stories can be categorized. On the right side of your screen, scroll down a few inches and you will find the heading, “Categories”. Listed below it, you will find Birds, Cats, Critters, Horses, Kids, and the rest of them. Just click on the one you want. This makes it a little quicker to get to the subjects you like best.

 

Dave Thomas
June 21, 2016

 

Living Off The Land

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Sometimes it’s necessary for a kid to live off the land (for a few hours). For instance, a young person might want to go hiking or might want to go to the river or some other neat place to play. He certainly wouldn’t want to go home to get something to eat. “Home” is the place where plans get changed after a mother sniffs out the plan for the day. So, now is the time for this young person to use his wits and be resourceful enough to subsist for the day. It will be my pleasure to pass on some of the things my friends and I came up with to quiet a growling stomach.

What’s available depends on what time of year it is because so many things are seasonal. Of course, we should start with the things that can be found all year long. A person would probably be accompanied by one or two of his friends so the first thing to do is find out if they can come up with a snack without their Mom squashing the plan with a bunch of chores or something.

During the growing season there are a number of food choices available. We had a number of places we liked to go that were within about a 2 ½ mile radius of home. A couple of them took us past corn fields and if the corn was in season we could grab a couple of ears. Then, as we walked, we would keep our eyes open for a tin can large enough to boil some roasting ears and whatever else we would find.

If we were going out to Dry Creek there was a riffle there that was good for two things. First, the water ran over rocks and sand for about 20 feet and according to camping lore that was enough to purify it. We only half believed that but figured that boiling the water would finish off any germs that might be present. Secondly, the riffle made a wonderful hide-out for crawdads. I know the people in New Orleans call them crayfish but in Kansas they are crawdads. There were flat rocks laying in the riffle and just moving a couple of them would cause the crawdads to scatter in all directions. So, at this point, we’ve got a can, a couple of ears of corn, some crawdads, and some water. A prudent young person would have one of those waterproof Boy Scout match holders for wooden matches in his pocket and, son-of-a-gun, we’ve got lunch.

We also knew of some abandoned farm houses and sites within our hiking territory. One of my favorites was on the west side of town. There was nothing left of the house but a fireplace and chimney and some stone footings. However, behind the site of the home you could see the remains of a rail fence that was practically overgrown by an old blackberry bush. Every year that old bush produced berries and it made us a delicious snack.

One of the other old places had some old tomato vines that somehow produced a few tomatoes every summer. Another place had a gnarly-looking old peach tree that could give you a snack if you got there before the birds did.

A few times we tried fishing with a hand line but I don’t recall ever catching a fish let alone eating one. One time, when we were carrying our rifles we spotted a covey of quail. We got down in the prone position and after laying there forever the two of us got off shots about the same time and bagged two birds. We plucked them and roasted them on sticks. It was a lot of time and work with a very small reward.

I f we were near the railroad tracks west of town there was always the alfalfa mill. Alfalfa  was grown by some farmers and sold to the mill rather than being used to feed their own livestock.. It was hauled to the mill where it was pulverized and turned into powder. Later, the powder was pressed into pellets and was an efficient way to feed cattle and rabbits. I think some of that powder was put in gunney sacks but I believe that a lot of it was blown into railroad cars. Near the blower or conveyor, on the side of the building nearest the railroad tracks there was a gap in the galvanized siding and there was always a pile of alfalfa powder there. It was like having our own food dispenser. You could reach down and grab a handful of powder and start eating. It actually had a pretty good taste.

Schneider Brothers Granary was like a buffet. Besides the elevator and a silo they had a long building full of bins and each bin contained a different kind of grain. You could scoop up a handful and have something to chew on. My favorite was wheat. Once in a while we would go into their store where the smaller bins were kept and sample the rabbit pellets. The Schneider brothers were a couple of really nice guys and they never complained about us.

With these examples you can see that a young person (kid) can come up with a lot of ways to keep from going home for a snack or lunch. Chores and homework can be avoided all day long.

Dave Thomas

December 14, 2013

 

Our Beach House

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It was early 1999 and Pat and I had been living in Avocado Estates for eleven years. Avocado Estates was a gated community of 110 homes in the hills on the south side of El Cajon. The common areas included three avocado groves, a pond, tennis courts, an Olympic-size pool, and a hiking trail. The streets all curved around the hills and gave the development a charming rural look. It was a beautiful place to live and we had thoroughly enjoyed being there. We were getting restless though and were ready to try something different. Pat had taken early retirement and I was just two years away from retiring at 65.

We owned a 3 bedroom condo in University City that we had been renting out for 10 years. We decided that when the current tenant moved out, we would sell our home in Avocado Estates and move into the condo until we decided what we were going to do. By mid year we had received notice from our tenant and we were able to close a deal on the Avocado house. We had the interior of the condo painted, installed new carpet in the bedrooms, replaced the downstairs carpet with wood flooring, and then, Pat remodeled the kitchen. It was a tiny, galley-type kitchen but she designed the cabinets to maximize storage space and bought all new appliances. The kitchen and the rest of the home looked great and you kids were generous with your time in helping us move in. Remember, we had to put a lot of our stuff in storage since we were downsizing considerably.

We enjoyed living in the condo with its proximity to downtown, Old Town San Diego, and the coast. As the crow flies, we were only about 5 miles from the beach and the Pacific. Still, we weren’t quite satisfied with our circumstances and were thinking about a beach house with a view of the water. Since we had just renovated the condo and moved in, it wasn’t practical to just pack up and go somewhere else. After a lot of back and forth conversations, Pat suggested that a large picture or a mural might give us what we were looking for. We decided that a mural would be just the thing and the kitchen was the only place downstairs that would be suitable. The next consideration was that hiring an artist would cost us some big bucks. Pat suggested that we do the job ourselves. Neither of us had ever shown any artistic ability but what the heck…? A coat of paint would cover anything that was too ugly for humans to view.

We bought some paint and got started. Pat and I enjoyed working on it and Jeff got involved for a while. Terri stopped to see us one day and we convinced her to add a few strokes. When we got done it kind of looked as if you were stepping out the kitchen door onto a porch and then a sandy beach. Maybe you could call it “hokey” or even “tacky” but it was fun to do and we enjoyed it all the time we were there.

We only stayed in the condo for 2 years. Pat and I continued searching the Multiple Listings online for the Fort Worth, Texas area. We had some friends down there we had been talking to and ended up buying a new 4 bedroom, brick home in Keller. So much for downsizing but I guess we satisfied our itch for something different.

Beach House

Dave Thomas
February 12, 2015

 

Seaplane Story 10: SAR

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Search and Rescue duty (SAR) is mostly remembered as an uncomfortable 24 hour period that happened about every 6 weeks. It was uncomfortable because after checking our plane and turning up the radar and all the other electronic gear, and the other guys checked the engines and controls, we spent the rest of the time in the “Ready Room” trying to sleep on some wooden benches.

We had 4-section duty schedules which meant that you had to stay on the base for 24 hours and be prepared to work at any time, day or night. It’s tough on married guys because you can’t go home and see your wife and kids. It’s part of the deal you signed up for so you just grin and bear it. Search and Rescue duty was divided up between several squadrons so you didn’t catch that assignment very often.

My crew never got called out once for a SAR mission but there was one night that was out of the ordinary. The Control Tower called and said that a fog bank would be rolling in about midnight and the bay would be socked in until at least 10 o’clock the next morning and take-offs would be impossible. We were ordered to get airborne and head east to the Salton Sea for the night. On the east side, San Diego County ends in a range of mountains that go up to 6 or 7,000 feet and then the terrain drops to the desert floor and is below sea level. The creation of the Salton Sea is a fascinating story in itself. You might want to look it up on a map and Google it. As an aside, about 3 or 4 miles east of the Salton Sea is an abandoned Army Training Ground. I was told that the U.S. Army trained the Tank Corps here in this desert environment during WWII to get them ready to take on Field Marshal Rommel and the Germans in North Africa. The buildings are gone but you can still see the concrete pads where the barracks stood. Anyhow, the Salton Sea is a giant lake in the desert that was used as a diversional landing spot for seaplanes when the San Diego weather got bad. For some reason the Atomic Energy Commission had a place there on the water’s edge and they had a boat dock, sleeping accommodations, a mess hall, and some buoys anchored in the water that we could tie up to.

We flew over to the Salton Sea, landed, and tied up to a buoy. The normal procedure when leaving a plane secured to a buoy, or “swinging on the hook” as they called it was to leave two crew members aboard the plane to handle any emergency that might come up. We drew straws and I was one of the lucky guys. As we were in the desert and the weather was hot, we elected to sleep out on the wings rather than in the two bunks in the after section of the plane. There was a gentle breeze that stirred up the water and rocked the plane just enough to make it perfect for sleeping. I thought it was great…what a life! The wind came up about dawn and rocked the plane more seriously. In less than 30 minutes I was sick as a dog. This was the first time in my life I had experienced motion sickness. Growing up, I had always ridden every carnival ride, merry-go-round, Ferris wheel, and anything else that looked like fun. When a couple of crew members came to relieve us for breakfast I went ashore but couldn’t eat. My equilibrium was such that I indeed looked like a drunken sailor. It took 2 or 3 days to get back to feeling normal though I still can’t tolerate boats or carnival rides. Fortunately, airplanes don’t bother me.

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Seaplanes were big during the 1930’s, 40’s, and 50’s. Besides their Navy duties there were many commercial models that carried passengers and cargo all over the Caribbean and the South Pacific. The Russians have finally developed a jet powered seaplane but it will probably never gain widespread use. I guess the seaplane has gone the way of the horse and wagon.

Dave Thomas
March 26, 2012. revised February 17, 2015

Scroll Down For Pictures

10a vp48p5m & Hangers 

Picture 10a: Shows the seaplane hangers at NAS North Island. The two hangers look like giant concrete Quonset huts. They can still be seen when looking across the bay from San Diego or from Point Loma.

10b Last P5M-now a museumbird

Picture 10b: This picture is of the last P5M. It rests at the Flight Museum at Pensacola, Florida.

10c On the Ramp

Picture 10c: This plane has just been pulled up the ramp by the tractor and the recovery team.

10d vp48p5m

Picture 10d: I’ve never seen P5M’s flying in formation like this. It must be a fly-over for an air show or special event.

 

 

 

German P.O.W.’s In Peabody, Kansas

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I can’t remember exactly what year it was but WWII was still going on. Our friends, the Watsons, had invited our family to take a drive one weekend to Peabody, Kansas to see the Prisoner of War Camp.

Peabody is a small farming town about 60 miles northwest of Augusta. It’s surprising to think that it was the location of a German prisoner-of-war camp during the war. When I was older, I learned how it came to be that there were several prison camps in Kansas and in other states as well. During WWII all of our able-bodied men were either in the service or working in a job that was critical to the war effort. There was no one left to plant or harvest the crops that were so desperately needed. A lot of the women were working in the factories as “Rosie the Riveter” or some other much needed capacity.

Someone came up with a plan to use the captured German prisoners as farm-hands and it worked out well. If you would like to learn more about it, check the Internet. I did a search on “German P.O.W. Camps in Kansas” and found a lot of information.

Getting back to our trip, we kids were a little bit apprehensive about going. Every day we heard the news about the Germans killing millions of people. We heard about how they gassed them and some people were skinned and lamp shades were made from the skins. Altogether, we thought we would be facing some real monsters and the idea was pretty scary.

We got there and the compound was a large area contained by chain-link fencing. The place was full of men in black uniforms, some sitting and some standing, and all of them just taking it easy. Our Dads, Al and Frank, went up to the fence and started talking to a couple of the older men who spoke English. After a time, Jack and I got a little closer so we could look things over. What we saw were a bunch of young guys much like we would see on the streets of our town. This was not the dreaded SS. They may have been brave and loyal soldiers but they were just kids. They were probably thankful for 3 squares a day and a chance to work without being shot at.

Well, more lessons learned. You might enjoy spending a few minutes researching this.

Dave Thomas
 May 10, 2016

 

“A” IS For Armadillo

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  We’ve covered a lot of animals and a few days ago even had some zebras. To make sure we have covered the animal kingdom from A to Z, let’s go with some armadillos.

We were living in Keller, Texas and decided to drive up to Wichita and Augusta Kansas and visit friends and relatives. It’s a straight shot from Keller to Wichita on I-35 and usually an uneventful ride. This trip, we must have been out during mating season as there were armadillos everywhere. No, we didn’t see a one that was alive…they had all been run over on the Interstate! This was so hard to fathom that Pat kept track of how many we had seen. I forget how many we saw on the way to Wichita but by the time we got back to Keller, the total was 43! My vision was already getting poor when we took the trip so Pat was the official counter. What looked like a “lump” to me, she would identify as an armadillo or a rabbit or a possum or whatever.

Pat has got sharp eyes and I’ve always known I could rely on her to see things correctly. This particular trip though we had a little credibility problem. We were rolling south through Oklahoma, on the way home, and we passed another road kill. Pat yelled out, “Oh, my gosh, that was a monkey!” “No”, I said, “there are no monkeys running loose in Oklahoma.” “Yes,” she insisted, “that was a monkey!” All I can tell you for sure is that we argued the rest of the way home.

In 2005, we invited all the kids and grand-kids down for Thanksgiving. Almost everyone made it and we had a great time. Besides the Thanksgiving dinner, we also enjoyed a day in Old Fort Worth at the Stockyards. We ate and shopped and the kids went through the maze and rode the mechanical bull. Some entrepreneur had even set up an armadillo race in front of the Live Stock Exchange. The kids had never seen armadillos before and the only ones I had ever seen had been squashed on the highway. The grand-daughters, Michelle and Christie, got to participate as starters in the race. They held onto the armadillos until the guy yelled “go” and then they acted as cheerleaders for their charges. It was so exciting I could barely contain myself. Sorry, I don’t remember who won. 

54-024

A Contender

54-022

The Track

54-023

Christie and Michelle 

Dave Thomas
November 9, 2014