Grandma Compton goes to the Johnny Cash concert.

It was probably in 1966. I am not sure of the exact year, but her son (Uncle John to my kids), had joined the Marines, and was sent overseas to fight iin Viet Nam.

Johnny Cash was John's favorite singer, although he also did a darn good job of singing us some of Johnny Horton's best hits, accompanying himself on his guitar. 

Johnny Cash had come to Seattle for a concert that year, and Grandma Compton  had determined to go and meet him, and have him autograph the concert program for her  son in the military. 

She had ordered tickets to go, and also decided that she needed someone with experience to accompany her to the concert, and then help her find her way around the backstage area, get through the crowds, and make sure that she got that much-desired  autograph from Johnny Cash. 

That person was me. 

The big day came, and we prepared to go to the concert. Grandma Compton had never been to a concert like this before, but she was a very proper English Lady; and she DID know how to dress up ! 

We walked out the door with Grandma in her finest dress, dainty shoes, hair all curled and fluffy (it was naturally curly anyway, but this was special)., and her makeup was flawless. 

She had a beautiful Blue Fox full-length  fur coat, and she was also wearing that. 

We enjoyed the concert, and at the last song, I started hurrying her out of our seats, and off for the back stage, hoping to beat the crowd there. 

By the time we got there, all the people who had left before the last song were already there, but at least we were able to get in line for autographs.

As we stood there in line, Johnny Cash signed one program after the other, about as fast as he could scribble his name. He never looked up, just kept writing.

Finally, we were at the front of the line. Grandma Compton started to explain that she was there to get an autograph for her son in Viet Nam. 

At the sound of her voice, Johnny Cash looked up to see who was there speaking in that aristocratic English accent. 

He literally stood there spellbound looking at this fine lady in her Blue Fox  fur coat.  I am sure this was FAR from the usual fan that he signed an autograph for. 

Then, he took the program, and wrote a special note for John, and autographed it for her.  Grandma Compton was happy....

It was an epic and memorable  experience.

The 50's Camping and Fishing Trips

When I was a little girl, we used to go on fishing trips on the weekend when Daddy didn't have to be on call with Northern Lights. 

The Baileys lived next door to us, and  "Grandpa Bailey" always went on the fishing trips with us. The two families had lived across from each other in Paradise Valley, gone through the Great Depression together, and they were just like family to us.

My mom would fry chicken, make a huge bowl of potato salad, and then we packed whatever else she wanted along for meals.

There was always a large can of pork and beans; which we always called "Fishin'Beans", since that was the only time we ever usually ate them. 

Sleeping bags, air mattresses, and my mom's hammack all went in the back of the car somewhere. 

She would pack little plastic toy sets (boats, cars, etc) for me to play with at the water's edge, and often my swimming suit if she felt it was safe enough for me to actually be IN the water. 

Grandpa Bailey had an old wooden rowboat, and it  pretty much spent the summer months strapped to the top of his car, a 51 Ford.  Our car was a 1953 Buick Special; so neither car was especially suited for off-road travel to the lakes where we went fishing.

Brush Lake (north of Bonners Ferry), and Solomon Lake,  were two of their favorite spots, but we also went other places sometimes.

 The roads getting back into the lake were not much more than two dirt tracks in the grass back then; and if you made a wrong turn or missed the right road, you just had to keep on going until you got to the end. 

One such trip, we missed the turn for the lake (Solomon, I think), and hours later finally ended up at the lookout up on top of the mountain. No one wanted to drive back down that road in the dark, so we made a hasty camp, and spent the night there.

 After having a big black bear nosing around camp the next morning, we didn't waste any time packing up and once again heading down to the lake.

Mom always slept in her sleeping bag in her hammock, but the rest of us were on the ground on the airmattresses. I well remember waking Mom up at nite because some critter (packrat?) went scurrying across my legs and feet.

 I KNEW it was actually a bear, about to eat me up; but she would assure me that she could see my sleeping bag , and there were no bears on it !  (I still slept with my head buried into the sleeping bag).

When we had caught some fish, Mom would cook those for us to eat. Pancakes and fresh trout (cooked over a campfire) is to this day, one of my most favorite breakfast memories ! !