The EllGab Slice of Life Thread

[Walks_At_Night]

Nice!  Do hydroplanes still race there?

Yep in August this year:
https://detroitboatraces.com/

[Rikki Gins]

Yep in August this year:
https://detroitboatraces.com/

Fun!  We've got a boat-nik festival once a year, in an adjoining town.  They race the smaller sized hydroplanes.

https://www.boatnik.com/hydroplane-boats.html

[PB]

Haven't thought about Olympia in forever.  Used to watch Miss Olympia lock horns with Miss Budweiser in the hydroplane races on the Detroit River.  Good stuff

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The annual hydroplane races were a lot of fun.  Growing up in Washington State, they'd have them on Lake Washington in Seattle, and the Columbia River in the Tri-Cities area (Richland, Kennewick, and Pasco).

After his playing days were over, Sonics legend (heh heh) Tommy Burleson became a racer.  How his 7'2'' body fit in the boat remains a mystery.

The SF Bay must not be placid enough to have them here.  It was during the hydroplane races some kids were trying to sneak in when they found Kennewick Man.

[Rikki Gins]

[Walks_At_Night]

Just started working on my first of what will hopefully be a string of slices of the Life of WAN entries in this thread.  Time to practice a bit more writing. Writing is something that I've always been really self conscious about due to my poor education in English. Three of the four English teachers I had in High School were useless and while I had to take some English classes in college they weren't exactly emphasized as it was a small, engineering school. Thank God for Mr. Howard who taught Senior College Prep English in High School - he pulled me aside with a "WAN, in no way do you belong in this class" but instead of kicking me out, he worked with me to the point that I was able to manage a slightly above average score in English on the ACT and I was able to accepted to a couple of schools that I had an interest in attending. So writing has always bothered me and I think it's time to practice again. 

This inaugural slice will meander a bit - it will include a commercials silly jingle, a furniture store, Evel Knievel, the Detroit Mafia and a brutal murder on a wedding day. If you are a WAN fan, stay tuned. If not - just ignore!

[Smokin Hot Bob]

The old cat was asleep on the couch. A big, burly, sullen brute with only a stump for a tail. There was a rumor of actual bobcat lineage. That's right, we called him Bob. Imagine a 20 foot long rectangular living room with a mid century stereo console beside an old black and white TV the size of a small fridge. It was a summer's day, the doors were wide open and a crazed starling flew into the house, circling the ceiling and shrieking madly. There was quite the commotion as to what should be done. The cat opened one eye, instantly appraised the situation, leapt onto the console, then the TV and into the air. Just as it made its last revolution, the bird was put out of its misery with one swat. We were all a little stunned. The cat slowly walked back to the couch, laid down and calmly resumed his nap, in peace.

[Rikki Gins]

Just started working on my first of what will hopefully be a string of slices of the Life of WAN entries in this thread.  Time to practice a bit more writing. Writing is something that I've always been really self conscious about due to my poor education in English. Three of the four English teachers I had in High School were useless and while I had to take some English classes in college they weren't exactly emphasized as it was a small, engineering school. Thank God for Mr. Howard who taught Senior College Prep English in High School - he pulled me aside with a "WAN, in no way do you belong in this class" but instead of kicking me out, he worked with me to the point that I was able to manage a slightly above average score in English on the ACT and I was able to accepted to a couple of schools that I had an interest in attending. So writing has always bothered me and I think it's time to practice again. 

This inaugural slice will meander a bit - it will include a commercials silly jingle, a furniture store, Evel Knievel, the Detroit Mafia and a brutal murder on a wedding day. If you are a WAN fan, stay tuned. If not - just ignore!

Most of us know your work, WAN, so you'll do just fine.  Relax and let it flow, but uppermost, have fun.   

[Rikki Gins]

The old cat was asleep on the couch. A big, burly, sullen brute with only a stump for a tail. There was a rumor of actual bobcat lineage. That's right, we called him Bob. Imagine a 20 foot long rectangular living room with a mid century stereo console beside an old black and white TV the size of a small fridge. It was a summer's day, the doors were wide open and a crazed starling flew into the house, circling the ceiling and shrieking madly. There was quite the commotion as to what should be done. The cat opened one eye, instantly appraised the situation, leapt onto the console, then the TV and into the air. Just as it made its last revolution, the bird was put out of its misery with one swat. We were all a little stunned. The cat slowly walked back to the couch, laid down and calmly resumed his nap, in peace.

Great idea bringing up a pet, Bob.  We can all tell some tales regarding them.

[Rikki Gins]

March 21, 1960.

Ten years old.  Morning.  House on the hill.  Fourth grade.  Looking down the winding driveway, waiting to spot an approaching school bus.  Had a dime in my hand (milk money) and I started to tap tap tap on one of the window panes.  (There were plenty to choose from, the front of the house had three or four rows of window panes.)  I had it down pat, if the bus appeared way down the road, I had time to carry my books and lunch bag down the driveway and I would get to the bus stop just as the bus itself rolled to a stop.

No bus seen yet, though.  Tap tap tap.  Phone rang back in the dinning room.  Tap tap tap.  Mom answered it.  Tap tap tap.  She gasped.  Tap tap tap.  "Is Hibby Dead?" she cried out.  Tap....

Grandpa Hibbs had been in a Roseburg, Oregon hospital for gall bladder surgery.  All of us kids had sent him letters wishing him a full recovery.  A deadly blood clot had got loose in his circulatory system and became lodged in his heart.  Death came quick that sunny spring morning of March 21, 1960. 

I stopped waiting for the bus.         

[Rikki Gins]

Dinning - wtf?  Meant to say dining.

[Bart Ell]

March 21, 1960.

Ten years old.  Morning.  House on the hill.  Fourth grade.  Looking down the winding driveway, waiting to spot an approaching school bus.  Had a dime in my hand (milk money) and I started to tap tap tap on one of the window panes.  (There were plenty to choose from, the front of the house had three or four rows of window panes.)  I had it down pat, if the bus appeared way down the road, I had time to carry my books and lunch bag down the driveway and I would get to the bus stop just as the bus itself rolled to a stop.

No bus seen yet, though.  Tap tap tap.  Phone rang back in the dinning room.  Tap tap tap.  Mom answered it.  Tap tap tap.  She gasped.  Tap tap tap.  "Is Hibby Dead?" she cried out.  Tap....

Grandpa Hibbs had been in a Roseburg, Oregon hospital for gall bladder surgery.  All of us kids had sent him letters wishing him a full recovery.  A deadly blood clot had got loose in his circulatory system and became lodged in his heart.  Death came quick that sunny spring morning of March 21, 1960. 

I stopped waiting for the bus.       

At first I thought you were waiting outside.

[KSM]

At first I thought you were waiting outside.

Me too.

Good one Rikki. I love that you know the exact date of that particular slice.

[Rikki Gins]

At first I thought you were waiting outside.

Yeah, I should have clarified.  I was standing behind those window panes, waiting for the school bus to arrive, tapping on one of the windows with the dime.  When we first moved in, that area behind the windows was separate from the living room.  Sort of a walled in entranceway.  Dad knocked the wall down and the living room was instantly bigger.

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[Rikki Gins]

Me too.

Good one Rikki. I love that you know the exact date of that particular slice.

Thanks, KSM.  It was easy to remember because it was one of my first experiences with death.  Oh, I understood death alright, but not when it applied to a relative.  (Mom took us kids up north to view his body, and that was an experience in itself.)  Also, I managed to save the little booklet that the funeral home handed out to friends and family of the deceased.  As the years passed, I could never remember if it was 1960 or 61, so I'd dig up the notice and check the date.

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[Smokin Hot Bob]

My usual crawling across the web in the early morning hours was interrupted by a noise downstairs. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I thought it was a clicking sound. Then the power went out. Then it came back on again. Out on, out on, like a pulse. The rest of the family witnessed this as well. The porch light of the property across the street was pulsing in unison. I was about to check outside to see how far this went, but it stopped.  I phoned the power company the next day. Nothing untoward had happened. No one had complained of anything.