Coming soon to a theatre near you

Finally, my life story has made it to the big screen!

Rockland, Idaho 1966

In today's world we are surrounded by gadgets of all types, computers, cell phones and plasma TVs. There is cable and satellite Television, Microwave ovens, on and on. When I was a child we had none of these things, yet somehow we survived. We had one telephone and it was on a "party line", with I believe, four other family's. We had one black and white television with three channels. Life was simpler and I believe in many ways better.

My grandparents small ranch was my home for most of my childhood. Our neighbor was a cattle rancher who raised champion Herford cattle. He and my Grandfather seemed to have been embroiled in a kind of minor feud, or so it seemed to me at the time. If this was so, maybe it was a result of my Grandfather raising sheep and Melvin (our neighbor) raising cattle. I really am not sure. I considered myself neutral. I really liked Melvin and would often go down and watch him feed his Bulls hay. I also knew my Grandpa well enough to know that he was not the easiest of people to get along with all the time.

An example of why I thought there was a feud was when Melvin placed a mobile home directly across from my Grandparents house for his hired hand to reside in. My Grandparents were sure that this was done to aggravate them as it now partially obscured our view of the mountains from our dinner table. I on the other hand, thought it was neat, because we had in my opinion, a terrible shortage of neighbors. I was especially happy when the hired hand that moved into it was the older brother of my best friend.

Having Terry move in next door seemed to lesson the irritation that my Grandparents felt about the situation, as they liked him and his whole family. One day my often absent father was visiting and asked me if I would like to go next door and visit Terry and watch color TV! I'll never forget the excitement I felt because I had never seen color TV before. My only knowledge of the medium was when TV shows would show a little side bar ad that said "This program is presented in living color." Of course I would then watch the program in black and white. Terry had just purchased a brand new color television, we were invited over to watch the Television premier of " Your Cheatin Heart" the 1964 film staring George Hamilton as Hank Williams .http://www.hankwilliams.com/

Well the big moment came and bursting with anticipation, I crossed the road with my Dad and we made ourselves at home on Terry's couch. Terry's Brother Monty was also present. The show began and I braced my self for what I was sure to be a stunning display of "living color." The title shot and opening scenes began but with one problem. It was in not so living, Black and White. We all looked at one another perplexed and baffled by this turn of events. Then Monty sprang into action, and began turning knobs and making fine tuning adjustments, the TV rolled, changed contrasts, went completely green and completely red, but still no color. Not to be discouraged Monty rolled the TV away from the wall and began fooling around with the controls hidden in the back of TVs in those days. Allot of weird stuff happened on the screen thanks to Monty's efforts but no color. Terry and Monty then became engaged in a active debate about what could be wrong and how to fix it, all to no avail. At some point we gave up and enjoyed a good show about a great country music legend.

Years later I found out the movie was actually shot in black and white. There was nothing wrong with Terry's TV after all. I also learned The movie featured 14 year old Hank Williams Jr doing the singing and sounding just like his father. http://www.hankjr.com/

I do not remember when I finally saw color TV for the first time, but I still remember my first attempt at it.

Benazir Bhutto

Occasionally upon the world scene enters a individual who could possibly make a change for the better. All too often the forces of Evil snuff out that hope. It has happened once again. God bless Benazir Bhutto. May she find the peace in the here after, that she was not allowed in her earthly life time.

Setting sail for a Island Christmas! be back after the 25th!!

Rockland, Idaho. Christmas Eve. 1967

My grandfather was a hard working man of the land, who raised three daughters and a son on a small ranch in south eastern Idaho. He also had the luck, ( good or bad ) of raising me since my father was a bit lacking in child raising skills. It was great for me though, as I loved my grandparents and they loved me.

My grandfather was usually a very quiet, serious man who kept his fences tight and the stalls clean. He was as honest a man as I have ever known, tall, dark, with straight black hair. He always wore bib overalls when he worked and a short brimmed Stetson hat. He was not one to trifle with and yet he did have a mischievous side.

One Christmas Eve in the late sixties my aunts, uncles and a overwhelming number of cousins spent the night at the ranch. They had come from all over to gather on the old homestead. The ranch house was packed to the brim with kids from toddlers to teens invading my territory. I did not mind since this was the most excitement I had seen in my young life. Night fell, and we slowly wound down and drifted off to sleep. I was forced to share my room with some cousins. As I drifted off, I remember glancing out the window and seeing giant snow flakes drifting down and landing gently in the trees and on the ground. Santa would soon be here!

KABLAM!.. I came wide awake and was airborne. I was on the floor running before I even realised what had awoken me! BLAM! BLAM!. The walls and rafters of the house were shaking as a series of explosions rocked the home to it's foundation! Amid the screams and confused calls of my many cousins, I determined that the assault was taking place in the back yard. I raced up the stairs and out the back door into the frosty night air wearing nothing more then my Wild Wild West pajamas. Behind me my cousins poured outside, as well as my grandma and my aunts.

There standing in the winter moonlight was my grandpa. He was wearing a old plaid robe, snow boots and a fur cap, his legs covered only by his long johns. He was staring sky ward with a determined look on his face and his eyes squinting into the dark. But what shut up the gaggle of kids peering around me clutching each other was the artillery in Grandpas hand. Pointing skyward with smoke and / or steam rolling out of the barrel, was Grandpas giant 12 gage 1893 Winchester shotgun! "Wha..What is it PA?" I asked. I shot a dirty look at my younger cousin from Salt Lake who mumbled "Indians" under his breath. Stupid city kid, I thought to my self. "Well," Grandpa said as he continued to search the sky "I was coming back from checking on the new lambs when I spotted someone on the roof trying to break in." "Really !" I exclaimed and stood on my toes to try and see the top of the roof. " Yep, a fat fellow with a red coat, and a white beard." Well that was that. My dopey second cousin from Salt Lake let out a blood curdling scream. " He's Killed Santa Claus!" And all hell broke loose!. Kids were crying, yelling and hyperventilating! And that was nothing compared to my aunts who were really letting Grandpa have it. My Aunt B was saying something about," You did this to us 30 years ago and now you decide to torment our kids as well?" All the while my grandfather was still studying the sky as if at any minute a German Zeppelin might appear and drop bombs on the John Deere. I was in total awe of the confusion surounding me. Which was added to by the stock dogs who had begun howling in their kennel. The only beings not in a uproar were grandpa, my pet terrier Prince, who was laying on his back in the snow hoping someone in this mess will take the hint and scratch his belly, myself and Grandma who was just looking at Grandpa with a icy stare. I looked at Grandpa as well and that is when I saw it! The Twinkle! It was there in his dark eyes then gone just as quick! He was kidding, he had not killed, wounded, or even shot at Santa! Why he probably had not even seen him! So I joined in announcing loudly, "I think I see a blood trail!" This caused a marked increase in howling by both dogs and children, and a cuff upside my head from Aunt N. My aunts rounded up the herd of sobbing children and drug them back into the house. All the while explaining that Gramps was senile and to ignore him., They would prove it by producing the presents Santa Left before he peacefully departed.

A couple of hours later, we were playing with our toys amid mounds of torn wrapping paper, listening to Christmas music. I looked over at Grandpa watching it all happily from his big Lazy Boy, sipping his coffee. I realized what his motivation was. He just wanted to get the action started a little early. Who could blame him?

Key West, Florida. May, 1988

In the spring of 88 I was working for a major corporation traveling the east coast conducting counter industrial espionage and in house investigations. It was a great time to be young and a great time to wind up in south Florida on a expense account. I soon found myself in Key West ready to party, and work of course.

Key West is an amazing place only 90 miles from Cuba it is the southern most point of the continental United States. To get there you have to fly in, arrive by boat or drive down from the mainland on the Keys Causeway. The Causeway is a series of bridges connecting the keys, it runs parallel to the ruins of the old rail road causeway, across many keys such as Marathon Key and Key Lime etc..

Soon after arrival I found myself in a outdoor bar surrounded by Banana plants ordering a Margarita. as I leaned on the Teak wood bar awaiting my refreshment I turned to the dance floor thinking.. here I am in a tropicle paradise, young, dressed to the nines (see Don Johnson circa mid 80s) about to be served my favorite adult cocktail. All I need now is a beautiful girl(apologies to Van Halen). As I scanned the Bar I thought to myself there is not many females here, in fact there are not any. Then being the great detective that I was, it dawned on me aha! Men dancing with men! ( not that there is any thing wrong with that) I will probably not find the final piece of the puzzle here. I asked for a go cup and hit Duval street on a quest for my kind of watering hole. Bar after Bar I went in only to find the male to female ratio about 50 to 0. Just as I was about to give up and settle down to a evening of Streisand music, I saw hope! Jimmy Buffets Margaritaville! I hurried over and found exactly what I was looking for! I had a great Margarita met a young lady and had a great week in paradise. That was actually the first Margaritaville that Jimmy founded now they are in several locals including Glendale Arizona!

Not Evil, but Evel. Nov.30th 2007

I was born in the same state as him, Montana. My mother was born in the same town that he was, Butte. He was a very flawed person, however to a generation including me he was a living, breathing super hero. I had the honor of shaking the mans hand. Rest in peace, Robert Craig Knievel.

SanDiego, November 25th, 2007

Last week end was a great example of thinking outside the box! A testimony to over coming earth shattering obstacles. Proof that even as I settle into middle age I can successfully adapt and overcome.

The problem arose in late August when it was announced that the Van Halen tour would arrive here in Phoenix on Friday the 23rd of November. This was devastating news since I was scheduled to make some serious money that very night and would loose it all if I attended this concert. Gloom, dispair and agony descended rapidly on me. I had made a solemn vow to a couple of friends of mine and them to me, that we would attend the Van Halen reunion tour and pay tribute to the return of Diamond David Lee Roth. My friends Rick and Lee also would be getting a good cash rake the night of the show and did not want to miss out on the score. So I pondered and thought and thought and pondered, and then it hit me! Sandiego was the place we would need to be! Eddies crew would be playing there Sunday! We would grab enough cash Friday to finance the trip and still leave a nice Roll of $$ in our pockets!

Tickets were scored, hotel rooms were booked, Ricks compact luxury sedan was gassed and tuned and we were set. Then disaster, Lee had a family commitment spring up and could not go. The two survivors would not be detoured. On Sunday morning flush with cash and a desire to "Go west young men" we struck out. Now if any one has ever driven from Phoenix to SD on I-8 you will know that the next few hours were.... B.O.R.I.N.G. until we passed through Yuma Arizona. Yuma has two things worth while, one being Criteens Restaurant which Rick introduced me to on the return leg, and the other being possibly the worlds most eclectic Radio station. The first song after tuning to the station was a Ethel Merman number, so we settled in expecting to hear a little Singers and Standards action, maybe Some Big Band. Imagine our Shock when the next song was a System of a Down Tune! Followed by Cole Porter, Olivia Newton John and Rob Zombie! We were rocking out, loving every minute and every crazy turn of this D.J.s awesome song lineup when it got even better, going to a commercial break we realized that this was a Spanish Speaking station! I vowed right then and there to return to Yuma some day play a little Poker in the Local Casinos and record this awesome station so I can enjoy it back home (guess I should see if it is online). But that is how radio should be, a mixture of all the best music no mater the era or type. As the station faded away we heard the fuzzy refrains of Robert Cray and Finally, Mozart.

Around 1:00am we arrived at the Surfer Hotel in Mission Beach. Walked the beach, had lunch and checked into our Junior "Suite". Surveying the room Rick and I looked at each other with raised eye brows did a 180 and returned to the front desk. I calmly explained to the desk clerk that while Rick and I were good friends, we were not THAT good of friends. A few minutes later we were in a room with TWO beds. The view was not as good but still decent. The weather was great, about 70 degrees and the beach was not crowded. We went down to the beach walk and visited with "Mackey" a 62 year old Surfer who runs a tiny Surf Shop near the Crab Shack. Mack looks about 46, he is about 5 foot 7 with Salt and pepper hair in a pony tail and is real cool. He showed me a picture of him riding a huge wave on the North Shore just last year! We got some ideas for Next summers Surf Camp and he made us promise to visit him again. People Like him are one of the main reasons I like to travel, if you get your mind right, smile allot, and be polite you will meet 10 Mackeys to every 1 Joe Asshol'e. We returned to our room and before long it was Show Time.

I had never been to Cox Arena SD before but was pleased to see it was a small venue. We had spent $160.00 +each on our tickets alone and it was reassuring to see we would be fairly close to the stage. I will not waste time describing the show as it is reviewed all over the Internet. I will Say that they rocked hard! It was a great show and it is amazing to see how changed Eddie and Dave were from sad pictures of them taken in the not too distant past, they looked great, Sounded awesome and brought the house down! There were allot of parents with kids in the crowd and I had to smile as I overheard a kid about 12 telling his parents friends that this was to be his first concert. His mom laughed and said hers was Captain and Teneal. My first was The Carpenters (who I still love). I really believe that having Wolfgang on tour with Eddie will help keep dads head on straight.

From Sedona to Hawaii, ought seven

Last month I had the honor of attending my good friend Chads wedding to his sweetheart Patty. I must say it was the best wedding I have ever attended. It was held in beautiful Sedona at the best resort in town on the banks of Oak Creek. My daughter Sarah went with me and we spent two days among the Red Rocks. I had big plans for hiking and exploring, however a slight miscalculation of my Blood Pressure medicine the day after the ceremony left me in a near coma in the hotel room. My daughter was unfazed by her dads imitation of Keith Richards and spent the morning happily texting her friends and periodically checking my pulse. By afternoon I was able to drag myself out the door and we enjoyed the rest of our stay.

Chad and Patty then went to Hawaii and stayed at a mansion on the ocean for eight days. Good Luck kids, I sure think your off to a awesome start on the rest of your lives! A very positive omen was sighted by several wedding guests on the way to Sedona the day of the wedding. A man riding a giant unicycle was sighted on the freeway in the middle of nowhere. Always a good sign.

Massacre Rocks, Idaho. 1966 Part 1

As a child growing up in Idaho I had the rather dubious pleasure of having a father who fancied himself a rodeo cowboy. I therefore was considered the heir apparent to carry on the great White family Cowboy tradition. Some of my earliest memories were of spending weekends during the summer at a local Rodeo located at what is now the Massacre Rocks State Park in Southern Idaho. In the 1960s it was privately owned and had a small hotel, Saloon and Rodeo grounds.

Massacre Rocks got it's name from a Indian attack that took place in 1862. This area being a part of the Oregon trail. I remember well the spectators sitting around the pine pole grounds cheering the contestants on as they competed for portions of the prize pool made up of entry fees. The mild summer afternoons at the rodeo grounds located next to the Snake River was a pleasant way for a young apprentice Cowboy to spend his week ends. The smell of Juniper trees and sawdust along with the sounds of Hank Williams, Hank Snow and Johnny Cash filled the air. The adults gathered around steel troughs filled with ice and water, containing cans of Olympia, and Ham's beer. I remember the cans were tin in those days and had to be opened with a beer opener. Yes this was a great time until the dreaded words of " Time for the sheep ride!!" rang out. That's when the shivers of terror would set in.

For anyone not blessed enough to having been raised in Americas rural west. Sheep riding or Mutton Busting is a sadistic rodeo activity where innocent children are placed on the back of equally innocent sheep and turned loose for their gleeful parents to watch and cheer on. I do not believe there has ever been a case where a child looked forward to this always embarrassing and sometimes crippling event. It was all for the adults.

I remember being put on a very angry Ewes back and griping a string placed in my hands and hearing my fathers booming voice saying " Hang on boy, she looks like a mean one"! My sense of survival quickly helped me decide that the string was not the best handle and I grabbed two fist fulls of Suffolk wool, Right then the gate flew open and the she devil of mutton launched herself into the Idaho sky. The following few seconds seemed like a eternity as the woolly kangaroo I was clinging to did its best imitation of a jack hammer. I soon found myself wrenched free of the beast and I flew through the air and landed with a resounding plop on the ground. As my senses came back I picked my self up, and started dusting off my britches realising I was unhurt! I could hear the small crowd cheering. And was about to take a bow when I heard my Dads unmistakable voice laughingly shout " run boy! Run for your life"! I stole a look over my shoulder and saw that the sheep had made a circle around the arena and was now on a high speed course to run me down. I let out a scream of absolute terror and headed at top speed for the corral fence. All around me I heard adults laughing and cheering me on. I was obviously providing them with more entertainment then they had bargained for. Just as the pole coral seemed within reach I felt a horrible burst of pain on my young butt as the Ewe collided with me and for the second time in about sixty seconds I was airborne. By some miracle I flew between the poles on the corral, not hitting them and landed in a heap outside the arena. As I was deciding if I was alive or not I felt myself being picked up and my father was dusting me off. I will never forget the pats on my back and adult congratulations heaped on me. I was just astonished that I had survived such a horrible experience and was about to take the aforementioned bow when I heard my Dad say. "Good job Son, you made the finals! you get to go again in about 10 minutes"!

Let there be BLOG....LAW 2007