$50 Worth, Please

Growing up in the 50's and 60's I have fond memories of going for a ride. On the weekends or sometimes on a week night we would all pile into the car and just drive. We never went anywhere in particular, we just drove around. Sometimes we would go see that new big building that was being constructed or we would park out at Sea-Tac Airport and just watch the planes. If we were luckily and had been good  dad would stop at McDonald's and we would have milkshakes. They were still just a 25 cents , so a buck covered it and dad always had 5 one dollar bills in his wallet. A ride and a milkshake was some pretty good entertainment when Seattle only had 4 TV stations and we only had a black and white set.

The most fun, though, would be if dad stopped for gas. I'll admit it, I loved the smell of the gasoline as it was being pumped into the car. The bigger stations always had a give away too. These were usually glasses or towels. My mom still has drinking glasses we got at Shell in the early 60's. All this happened at a service station, that is a place were a honest goodness real person came out and took your money, pumped the gas and washed the windows. He would even check the oil and water levels in the engine and check the belts if you popped open the hood. The fun for us was hearing my dad say "Three bucks worth please". Mom always made fun of him as the last of the big spenders and would say the attendant would most likely die of surprise if dad ever said "Fill her up".

Three bucks worth though almost always did fill her up. Gas was 25 to 33 cents a gallon during most of my youth and I don't think many cars had bigger than 15 to 18 gallon tanks. So 3 bucks just about always did it. It is one of the most endearing and enduring memories I have of my father. I can still hear his voice saying "3 bucks worth please".

Well, dad is dead now and gas is $3.59 a gallon today in Boise. My car also has a 22 gallon tank, so we don't take long rides just for entertainment. I'm not sure what a milkshake costs at McDonald's but I'm sure it is more than 25 cents. Also "$50 bucks worth please" just doesn't have the same feel. Oh, and there is no attendant to tell it to anyway.

I Hate The Wind

My father always hated the wind. He could stand for hours in the rain, the cold and the blistering sun but would be in the house in minutes if it was windy. I don't mean a gentle breeze, I mean sustained winds of 12 mph or more. Since the last years of his life he lived on an island in Puget Sound on a hilltop there was plenty of wind. There wasn't a time that I visited that he didn't complain about the wind. Now I have to admit that at the time the wind didn't bother me me all that much but those days are behind me now. In the 11 years since my father died I guess I have aged more than I thought. The wind now cuts right through me and chills me to the bone. Right now it is 53 degrees in Boise but I'm wearing my Carhartt lined work parka to walk the dogs. I can just hear my father as I'm thinking that it is the middle of March damn it and I should be wearing a light jacket to do this. But there is that damned wind. I can hardly wait for Summer with its heat so I can start to complain about the 100 degree days.

St. Patrick's Day

I had corned beef hash and eggs for breakfast today in honor of St. Patrick. It seems odd to eat a rather British meal to celebrate an Irishman. Oh wait, St. Patrick is British. I think that is all I'll do to honor St. Patrick today as I never have been a big drinker of green beer or whiskey.

When I was a child mom always made a boiled dinner for St. Patrick's Day. She would get out the pressure cooker and in would go the potatoes, cabbage and either beef or a large ham. Ham was my favorite. To this day I will always try boiled cabbage at any place that serves it, I love boiled cabbage.  Irish food is rather bland and that may be why they like the beer and whiskey.

Mom would like to listen to some Irish folk music but I always thought it was so sad. Then I learned something about Irish history and can understand why the music is so sad.  So I will eat my hash and think of my mother and that will make my St. Patrick's Day just about perfect. ERIN GO BRAUGH.