We moved to Panaca on July 31st, 1981 - on Paul's first birthday. We moved because there was a teaching position, which had been offered to me by Dr. Mathews, and because the Lee family wanted someone to live in and fix up Grandma's home. It all started innocently enough. The first and only person to help us move in was Richard McHenry. He had been watering, mowing, and caring for the house for a number of years. He helped me pack the heavy things in: beds, sofa, easy chairs, dishwasher, and washer/dryer. The rest Venice and I hauled in over a week's time. The house was small, old-fashioned, and in my mind, beautiful for its simplicity. Venice was more skeptical as the house lacked outlets, insulation, a place for the washer/dryer and dishwasher; and it was hot in June, July, and August and freezing in November, December, and January.
In the summer months, we learned quickly to leave the front and rear doors open at night, box fans at each end, blowing air through the rooms. At about 10 AM, everything had to be closed up to trap the cool air in until it became like a furnace inside and too uncomfortable. The doors flew open, usually around dinner time. There was a period of an hour or two when it was too warm to be inside. The kids (Tony and Paul) found this out early and retreated to the east side of the house to play in the dirt, chop on the stump, and climb into the collapsing septic tank.
The first month and half I didn't get paid because I hadn't worked yet. It was tough. We lived on the good graces of Bob Dotson who gave us credit at The Merc until we could pay him back. We ate a lot of generic mac and cheese, Bologna sandwiches, and spaghetti to get by. The water and electric companies extended us credit too. The phone company, on the other hand, wanted the equivalent on one month's rent ($150) before we could get Grandma's phone reactivated. Her number was 52. We were given the number 4678. No prefix was needed to dial within Panaca, just four digits. To dial long distance one had the option of using the new dial direct feature or to ring the operator for assistance. We often called the operator to find out scores of "away" football and basketball games, check on the weather in Pioche, and find out why there were police or fire sirens. When I took the old Bakelite phone to Pioche to exchange for a new plastic phone, the office staff said "We were looking for that model, it's the only one we didn't have in our collection."
The first few years teaching, I didn't make much money. We qualified for commodities and utility subsidies. I took them without qualms. I remember going over to the high school cafeteria took stand behind the semi trailer with my hands out for Velveeta cheese, powdered milk, and canned chicken. We would sometimes get bread and vegetables if they hadn't spoiled. The utility subsidy meant we could apply it against our electric bills. I was fearful of the Propane heater in Grandma's house, so we used torpedo-shaped space heaters to heat. Grandma's house wasn't insulated. The first remodeling job was to wire the house for outlets, place visqueen on the outside of the windows, and insult the ceilings. Lee Maughan helped me or it never would have been finished by Halloween.
The agreement with The Family was: rent was $150 but it could be worked off as "in kind labor" at $10/hour. I was credited for repair/remodeling materials too. It was a good deal for family because so much of the house needed updating. It was good for us because I could work most of the rent off. In the five years we were in the house we: installed outlets; patched lath and plaster; insulated the ceilings; painted the exterior; painted all the rooms inside except the cellar; leveled and put new sub floor in the kitchen; installed vinyl flooring in the kitchen, bathroom, and mud room; carpeted the front room and bedrooms; placed visqueen on the windows; cut down four honey locust trees; removed four honey locust stumps and filled in the holes with gravel; filled in the septic tank with gravel; built a shed; plowed the garden spot - removing fifty year-old sage and rabbit brush; mended and repaired/replaced the fence and put up a new fence in back; installed TV cable; shored up and fixed the porch foundation; watered and mowed and trimmed lawns; planted and fertilized gardens; raked and burned leaves and weeds; and did most everything that hadn't been done in twenty years.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Grandma's Panaca Home
When I was a kid in the 50s, I loved to visit Panaca. Often we would travel from Panguitch, later from Provo or Logan. As Karen and Weston and Brenda came along, the kids rode in the camper and vied for first glimpse bragging rights. The first who saw the lights of Panaca from the summit won. Grandma Mathews' home was defended by four huge honey locust trees. Invariably, when Dad pulled the pickup parallel to the fence, the camper would scrape on the lower tree limbs. Grandma's house was always dark. No visible street lights until after we moved into Grandma's house in 1981. Grandma was very unassuming. She greeted us with a quiet smile. Hugs were exchanged and a few muttered pleasantries. Sometimes Grandma would just go back to bed after saying "Hello."
I loved sleeping in the back porch bedroom. It was away from adult scrutiny. The only drawback was having to go through the bathroom to get to the bedroom. Fortunately, the bedroom had an outside access. The other part of the house that fascinated me was the cellar. It was dark, dank, and dusty - as if nobody had been down there in decades. The steps were steep and the shelves filled with bottled fruit or vegetables from Medieval times.
One of the more entertaining pastimes when I was a kid was chopping up and old stump with a rusty, neglected Butcher knife. The knife was forever in that stump. Grandkids would whack, whittle, and chop on the stump for what seemed hours on end. I threw the knife away and removed the stump when we moved in, a tragedy really. I didn't want my kids getting hurt, and the stump's roots had long since dry rotted away.
When the sewer system was installed doing away with the need for a septic tank, the old cement block tank covered with cedar poles and dirt gradually caved in. I filled it in with gravel hauled by hand from a belly-dump's worth in front of the fence using the old homemade wheelbarrow. Later we assembled a metal shed over the place.
Anyway, here are some recent pictures of the old homestead.
I loved sleeping in the back porch bedroom. It was away from adult scrutiny. The only drawback was having to go through the bathroom to get to the bedroom. Fortunately, the bedroom had an outside access. The other part of the house that fascinated me was the cellar. It was dark, dank, and dusty - as if nobody had been down there in decades. The steps were steep and the shelves filled with bottled fruit or vegetables from Medieval times.
One of the more entertaining pastimes when I was a kid was chopping up and old stump with a rusty, neglected Butcher knife. The knife was forever in that stump. Grandkids would whack, whittle, and chop on the stump for what seemed hours on end. I threw the knife away and removed the stump when we moved in, a tragedy really. I didn't want my kids getting hurt, and the stump's roots had long since dry rotted away.
When the sewer system was installed doing away with the need for a septic tank, the old cement block tank covered with cedar poles and dirt gradually caved in. I filled it in with gravel hauled by hand from a belly-dump's worth in front of the fence using the old homemade wheelbarrow. Later we assembled a metal shed over the place.
Anyway, here are some recent pictures of the old homestead.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Panaca Spring
The only reason Panaca exists is because of The Spring. In a land where water has to be sucked from the ground, The Spring is a rare and cherished resource. The literal lifeblood when the town was settled by white folk in 1864, (By my ancestors including Francis C. Lee and Company.) The Spring provided water (Duh!) and food, assisted by irrigation.
When I was a kid, The Spring water still flowed throughout the town, but covered ditches and piped water were already established. Before those days, my grandmother would dip from the ditch in front of her house to fill the washtubs and drinking jugs. There were trees everywhere. The water in the ditches kept the desert temperatures moderated and the consistent humidity meant fruit trees were plentiful. Covering the ditches and cutting the trees stole Panaca's beauty, dried it out, made the day and night temperature range swing wildly, and meant the roads had to be paved to cut the dust.
The Spring survives in spite of us. It flows a steady stream all the time. Should an earthquake kill the flow (as it has at Pipe Springs, AZ) Panaca would dry up and blow away. Las Vegas wants the water. It plans to run out of its current supplies in 2024. Guess where the Las Vegas Water Authority wants to shop? Might does not make right; right makes right. It would be a tragedy should the LVWA win this battle. "Let them drink wine." says I.
Rant over. Enjoy the pics...
When I was a kid, The Spring water still flowed throughout the town, but covered ditches and piped water were already established. Before those days, my grandmother would dip from the ditch in front of her house to fill the washtubs and drinking jugs. There were trees everywhere. The water in the ditches kept the desert temperatures moderated and the consistent humidity meant fruit trees were plentiful. Covering the ditches and cutting the trees stole Panaca's beauty, dried it out, made the day and night temperature range swing wildly, and meant the roads had to be paved to cut the dust.
The Spring survives in spite of us. It flows a steady stream all the time. Should an earthquake kill the flow (as it has at Pipe Springs, AZ) Panaca would dry up and blow away. Las Vegas wants the water. It plans to run out of its current supplies in 2024. Guess where the Las Vegas Water Authority wants to shop? Might does not make right; right makes right. It would be a tragedy should the LVWA win this battle. "Let them drink wine." says I.
Rant over. Enjoy the pics...
55 years old and counting
Fifty-five and still alive. It's good to be older and worse. I feel no work-related stress since I retired. Imagine that, but there are times I miss work, and the wonderful people with whom I worked: the teachers, the staffs, but mainly the students. The kids are the only reasons schools exist. Parents and kids are the customers, but kids are No. 1.
It's too easy a concept to forget when Governor Gibbons unleashes his stupidity on the masses, and we sip from his dry well of wisdom. Did Nevada really vote this jerk in? Tough times are upon us. I'm glad to be gone, to allow my creative side to emerge, to laze about because I can, to worry more about composition, and white balance, and whether or not I can afford a new lens for my camera.
Photography is the new passion. I thought I was a pretty good snapper. I still think I am, but I have discovered the many talents of the many others who share the same passion. Belonging to a group of like-minded, similar-passioned, photo-bloggers is part of the reason this blog exists. I want to place my favorite pictures here and record my journeys to-and-fro upon the land; not Cain-like, more because I'm able.
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura ché la diritta via era smarrita.
And thus begins the journey. The quote is from Dante, the beginning of the Inferno - everyman's journey through the various stages of life - from Hell to Heaven, if you will. I write this for my enjoyment and to remember life's journeys as they occur or in jumbles, spurts, and fraught with voids.
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