John Martin Reservoir, Colorado

Dear Kith and Kin,

Last night, after sunset, I walked out to the road to fetch the mailbox. I always bring it up to the house at dusk to protect it from the vandals. Behind the barn I noticed a pile of brush that Bennie had gathered so I decided to burn it. As I sat watching the fire, I could see the dark outlines of clouds and the tops of our tall cottonwoods and elms against the last light in the sky. A light breeze was moving the treetops and the fire in the burning brush pile. The air was warm. The cicadas were buzzing and the crickets were chirping. The whole scene before me evoked strong memories of the John Martin Reservoir. The Reservoir is located a short leg west of Lamar, Colorado, on Highway 50 then a few miles south. It was always our first overnight stop on many beautiful Colorado vacations that I treasure dearly and always will. Those were the days my Friend. We thought they'd never end....etc, which means life goes on with or without us.

Love to all

October

October, the best month of the year. You've had your supper. The sun has set so you take a cup of coffee and relax on the backporch to enjoy a light, cool breeze. The insects are chirping and singing away. Reminds you of those days you spent on vacation when the kids were young and so were you. Cooking your meals over a campfire. Hiking through the woods and up the mountains. How sweet it was! Golden days. Those were the days , my friends. We thought they'd never end.

Back to Naples

Plenty of years have passed since I traveled to Naples on business, but my memory of it stays clear in my mind. For instance the Joli Hotel where I stayed. I'm sure there are many more fabulous hotels in the world but the Joli for me was a perfect fit. Imagine having breakfast in the dining room, which was or is glassed in on two sides. You look up in one direction and you see the Bay of Naples and the islands of Capri and Ishchia (accented on the first syllable of both names). In the other direction stands the famous volcano, Vesuvius, with a wisp of smoke rising from its crater. Just two or three doors down the street from the Joli is a pizza parlor. The pizzas you buy there only faintly resemble the American version. The Italian pizza has a thinner crust and topped with green peas and a raw egg plopped in the middle. They sure taste good to me and the beer tastes good anywhere.

Cuentos de la Casa y el Campo

The company I worked for sent me to Naples, Italy, with a team of four or five inspectors to help with the preparation of several used airplanes for sale to Italy's Air Force. Time Line: I have only the vaguest idea of when. I've discarded all my notes. Sometime in the 1980's I'd guess. If you've been there you know Naples has a rather shady reputation, which to me only makes it more attractive. I used any free time I had mainly on weekends to explore the twisting streets and back alleys and negotiate the wild traffic of autos, scooters and pedestrians. Perched on top of the cliff on which Naples is built is an old castle/palace which had been converted into a sumptuous museum. I drove up to the museum, but I couldn't find a parking place so I had to park my rental car in a back alley. It happened to be an open air sea food market, where one of the vendors entertained me by playing with an octopus (calamari) curling around his arm. Rather creepy entertainment. After I had toured the museum a bit, I headed back to my parked auto to discover that the trunk and one of the windows had been jimmied by some thief, but I hadn't left any valuables in the locked car. I learned a lesson. Never lock your car in Naples. Of course, I traded for another car at the rental place. As for Naples I accept it for what it is and I still love it. Insurance took care of the rest.

Crossed Paths

My little brother has traveled to Stavanger many times. He made his living as a private consultant expert on the control of sand in oil wells. He did all right. During the years when we were both trekking across the globe our paths crossed only once and only by coincidence in Singapore. Stavanger is at the center of the Norwegian oil business. They export their oil to the UK.

The Norwegians specialize in open face sandwiches. They slather great gobs of butter or cream cheese on bread. How do they keep from getting fat? By drinking lots of beer, of course.

Going to the movies in Stavanger. Top Gun with Tom Cruise. Every seat in the house was filled with mostly youths in their mocedades. English subtitles were shown across the bottom of the screen. When one of the actors would say something funny, the audience would roar immediately. They had no need for English subtitles. They all learned their English in school from the first grade on. And they were saturated with American culture for good or for bad.

Stavanger, Norway

Stavanger. Norway. 1980s. We've visited three times. Each trip was as exciting as it could be. No doubt you've seen pictures of the fantastic fjords, the stark hills of granite rock tumbled this way and that. The Sunday hikers along the roads. Go to Canada. Castlegar and more hikers. Just like in Norway. They claim Sunday hiking is their entertainment. Yes, a hardy breed they are.

Back in Stavanger (which is the heart of the Norwegian oil business) on a Saturday evening you don't want to miss the good times at Die alt Rudd Haus, which just approximates the name of the pub painted over the entrance and means The Old Red Sea House. You're invited to a shrimp boil. Great piles of cooked shrimp are dumped on the tables in front of you. Strip your own shrimp. Make your own salad and wash it all down with buckets of beer. After you've stuffed yourself with all this food and drink, the young sports get up and dance around to the rhythm of a live band. The old hands head for their beds and the younguns carry on valiantly far into the night.