Memories Without Written Record

Young persons do not have any idea of what their life will produce in successes and failures, adventures and misadventures. Reading plans of local high school honor graduates in last week's paper leads a person to believe many of those have lives well planned. It is good to have ideas for education, but there will be twists and turns not predictable. That certainly happened to me and it's impossible to remember many facts and details. So! There is one bit of advice to everyone beginning their careers. KEEP A DIARY.

I did not do a good job of that but thankfully started at age 35 with this column, thus have a record of the last 52 years. As to memory of those first 35 years, I'm reminded of "Mully" Muldown at a Rotary meeting when asked to tell us of his early life. Mully was in his 80s at the time and he promptly replied, "The trouble with that idea is many of the things I remember most clearly, may not have happened."

What Mully was saying is a tongue in cheek fact of all aging folks lives; however, I've decided to try and recall a few things I shared with parachuting friends who are named in the recently released list of ex-smokejumpers who went on missions for the CIA and are no longer alive. I've changed their names.

Grandy was a squad leader who dropped me south of St. Regis on an early morning fire in 1952. This was on the edge of wilderness and we decided on a jump spot where remnants of an old road could be seen near three small smokes. Just before I went out, he yelled in my ear, "I'll bet you a six-pack of beer you can't land on the road."

Hollered back, "Make it two."

As I got about 200 feet above the ground I could see the road was full of rocks which were not visible from higher up. Decided I'd buy Grandy the beer by landing above the road in brush and short trees. As it turned out, the Forest Service was able to get a truck load of blister rust workers up there within a couple of hours so my jump partner and I were back in Missoula by late afternoon and made a rare second jump on same day, in the Salmon Wilderness.

Grandy offered to cancel the bet when he learned we had misread the road surface but I bought him a six-pack with the provision I got to drink half.

A book could be written about my buddy Max. I've probably done a dozen columns over the years about our adventures. One of the funniest was when he got himself, me and two other guys arrested in Avery, Idaho, when he convinced the town marshal we were Mexicans on the lam. Admittedly we did look a little suspicious when we hiked in there off a fire. That was in the days before hard hats and Max and I were wearing big mustaches and dirty old Stetsons.

Never forget "Big Ed" who bested the "Strongest Madam in Oregon" in an arm-jerking contest and she fell in love with him. That ambush type contest took place in a very wild bar in Grants Pass.

Did a column on that one several years back. Big Ed later got arrested in Montana for shooting a neighbor's cow that was eating his grass. Cow had its head through Ed's fence and he explained to the judge, "I only shot the part that was on my land."

Still got a lot of stories about those friends I worked with 65 years ago, but am short on details.

Sure wish I'd kept a diary.

G. George Ostrom is an award winning columnist and resident of Kalispell.