Neon Boneyard

Las Vegas' Neon Boneyard collects old Vegas signage so it can be enjoyed by future generations.

Neon Boneyard.

Aleknagik

Besides fishing, you could also screw around in watercraft on Lake Aleknagik, though that was often incorporated into fishing as well.

Our crew, most days.

Skif Pilot Jonnie.

 One section of Lake Aleknagik featured the wreckage of a WWII barge which we enjoyed climbing around on.

The old barge.

Todd welcoming us aboard.

Glen tying anchoring our skif to the barge.

Fishing off the barge.

Fishing off the barge was amazing, the river's current would momentarily trap the salmon against the barge and you could look right down at them. Theoretically, the salmon wouldn't even have to bite, it would not be difficult to just snag them with your hook ("snagging" is illegal by the way, it wasn't uncommon for Fish & Game to check your fish to make sure they were hooked legally in the mouth).

It was also fun to explore the barge, though most of it was flooded. I don't know any of the barge's history, except that it was from WWII and that it was too expensive to remove and dispose of it. As of the mid-1990s, it had just been sitting there for fifty years or so.

Remains of a WWII era bathroom.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 21 2004]

T.S.O.L.

T.S.O.L. w/ the Adolescents @ The Observatory, Santa Ana, CA; Dec., 2012.

Girl stage diving during T.S.O.L.

1-800-DEL-TACO

Del Taco branded pay phone outside a Del Taco in Orange, CA; 2005.

Del Taco Hotline.

Found: On the Floor

One thing I've learned from hanging around with Donald Kilbuck is to look at the ground a lot because people are always dropping money. Donald has always had a knack for spotting lost money on the ground, it really is uncanny. I, on the other hand, rarely find money and I have not found any money at all on the ground at my current workplace. Not even once.

I've only found two vaguely interesting things:

1. A mysterious post-it note:

The text reads:

       A peacock

       feather adds 

       elegance & pulls

       all the colors in 

       this project together.

2. A mysterious drawing:

Mysterious drawing.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Mar. 21, 2006]

Hay Elevator

When we were little kids running around at our cousins' farm, we used to love running up the hay elevator and riding it back down - CRASH! - then running back up the other side again, and crashing down again. It was like a huge see-saw with impact.  When you ran to the top, your weight would make it fall (fast!) to the ground. When we were really little, sometimes the impact would launch us up in the air.

I made a chart to illustrate the dynamic:

 Lots of fun, and I got to do it again last week, joined by Cousin Abby Jo:

It's a lot less dramatic now that we've grown up so much.  We used to be able to fit on the very end. It's still fun though.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, June 5, 2004]

What Color Is Your Vitamin?

Vitamin color, oh yeah.

Vitamin Color.

Dackel Races

 Dachsund races at Old World Village, Huntington Beach.

Me w/ Dackel Races sign.

Dackel.

[Originally posted on JS Blog, July 11, 2006]

When in Austin...

Besides Hook 'Em Horns, two other awesome things to see in Austin are:

1.  The Alamo

2. Animatronic LBJ.

Texas really is one big wonderland.

Just Passing Through

Water slide through the aquarium, Las Vegas, 2012.

Foot Treatments (Reflexology)

As discussed on the Gilliomville message board:

Grandma Hazel always wanted to give foot massages, and they were ruff, she used to dig into my foot and crunch the arches, it felt like glass was breaking in my foot, grandma would say it was the crystals breaking, I would ask why there are crystals in my feet, and she responded it was from drinking too much pop.

She would always work out the "crystals.” She'd say it was unhealthy to let those "crystals" build up in your feet. There always was something kind of popping when she rubbed the foot though, I guess it was just muscle tension or something, but I believed her and imagined crystals were developing in my feet. I believed that as gospel for years until I realized I'd never heard anybody else talk about crystals in their feet. I don't know when I stopped believing in foot crystals, but I never actively disbelieved it. I just learned it was a weird topic that was best left undiscussed with my fellow school children.

After Hazel gave foot treatments, she would have the grandkids do her feet too haha - she knew we hated to do that, so she'd let us divide the work - one kid per foot. Then Todd and I would each only have to do one foot. It was pretty horrible though. She had gnarly toe nails.

Hazel called those foot massages, "foot treatments.” She practically considered it a medical procedure. She learned this from Saul the Amishman who sold vitamins, gave foot treatments, and was widely hailed as a miracle worker in the area. He would not charge anything for a consultation, though you would have to pay for any vitamins he prescribed. 

Some days, Saul would work by appointment, but one day of the week was "first come, first serve.” Saul's Amish farm would be full of cars, sometimes people would come from outside the state to be diagnosed and treated by Saul. Grandma credited him with all kinds of miracles. My Dad had a recurring condition that kept returning despite the advice of a number of conventional doctors, but after he had Saul look at it, it was cured for good.

One year, Saul sold more vitamins from a particular company than anybody else in the country, so the vitamin company told him he won a free car. Since he was Amish though, he could not accept it; so they bought him a new buggy instead. Hazel said she saw the buggy and, "it was a really nice one.”

I remember Saul had a day of first come first serve. Mom said there was a guy that was there at 4:00 am and just slept in Saul's yard till he opened at 7:00 am. Jonnie, I remember the new buggy! That Saul sure could sell the vitamins!!

Saul (and Hazel) believed in the pseudoscience called Reflexology, though they never called it by that name. Reflexologists (and Hazel, and me as a child) believed that particular areas of the foot corresponded to other organs of the body and when that organ is experiencing problems, there is corresponding tension in that area of the foot. By massaging the tension out of a particular area of the foot, a person can make the corresponding organ healthier as well.

When Hazel was rubbing my feet and something would hurt, she'd say, "That's your kidneys"! I totally believed it as a kid, Hazel seemed to be so sure that's how it was and Saul was such an esteemed figure, it never crossed my mind they didn't know what they were talking about.

Reflexologists refer to diagrams or maps of the human foot with all the corresponding body parts written on it, so if somebody has tension in a certain part of the foot, you can find out which corresponding body is unhealthy. Some years ago, I was showing somebody one of these diagrams and it had everything - kidneys, liver, sinuses, head etc. marked. The only thing missing was the feet. We were laughing about that. Apparently, reflexologists don't account for troubled feet. If your foot hurts, it is always symptomatic of a different body part.

What a weird thing! And it seemed so normal to us to go to Grandma's and get foot treatments.

Grandma took me to see Saul once - He looked in my eyes with a magnifying glass and he could tell what vitamins or herbs your body needed. He would place a container of a particular herb or vitamin in your hand then ask you to stick the other arm straight out, then he would grab it like a lever, say "Resist me", and try to push it down. Then he would have you hold a different vitamin or herb and do the same thing. If a vitamin wouldn't help you resist him, he would not prescribe it, but if it gave you the strength to keep your arm up while he pushed against it, then that meant your body needed that one.

He told me I needed potassium and then Grandma added, "You should eat bananas every chance you get.” I think I left with about four different herbs he said I needed.

Wanda Jackson

Wanda Jackson @ The Observatory, Santa Ana, CA; Dec., 2012.

Wanda Jackson.

How To Eat a Soft Taco

From Taco Bell, probably the late 1980s, possibly very early 1990s, but I think it was the late '80s.

These helpful instructions were printed on Taco Bell's soft taco wrappers:

Taco Bell: How to eat a Soft Taco.

How to eat a Soft Taco without the mess!

   1. Leave Taco in Pocket Wrap until ready to enjoy!

   2. Unfold wrap to expose just enough Taco for a bite or two.

   3. Keep folding away wrap until each delicious bite is gone.

I don't eat them this way, I'm afraid of biting into paper.  I completely unwrap it and risk the mess.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Mar. 9, 2004]

3 Things from Santa Ana

A few memories from a notebook I kept while living in Santa Ana in late 2006 before getting my first librarian job:

1.  A phone company tech came over to address a connection issue. He mentioned a $55 home visitation fee for just entering the house. Sandra brought the phone outside to him (we had a really long cord) and asked him to test the line outside for free. He did and the problem was due to faulty installation, so we were billed nothing for the repairs. 

2.  Theory - Cabrillo Park is the Bermuda Triangle of dogs. There are always different missing dog signs hanging on the phone poles over there.

3. The suspicion that our neighbors are selling drugs is supported by a recent incident in which the lady of the house brought over a tray of freshly baked cookies and commented, “We really appreciate neighbors who mind their own business.”

Uncle Rog's Cottage

[Compiled from various posts on the Gilliomville message board, contributed by various Gillioms and Franks]:

Q:  Who was that Aunt who made the really good cinnamon rolls at Uncle Rog's cottage?
A:  It was Aunt Elva. She also made wonderful potato salad.

When it rained at Uncle Rog's, the girls would go shopping. I remember one year I got new nail polish, and Aunt Elva let me paint her fingernails hot pink. I thought she was the coolest old lady ever.

One time the family was all out at Rog’s cottage and young Rick (about 13 years old) got into Rog's booze and ended up very drunk.

Remember the time at the lake when Nick hooked Aunt Vi in the middle of the forehead [with a fishing hook] and she had to walk around with a hook in there for several hours until they found a doctor to take it out?

I remember mostly loads and loads of jello cubes and as much soda pop as we wanted. There was that outdoor built-in cooler with running water inside, keeping a constant cool temperature. It was like, "wow...we can just keep going back for more...even if we aren't thirsty...They NEVER run out!!!" I'm glad I wasn't footing the soda bill.

I remember all of us licking the jello cubes and trying to stick them on windows. It was kind of gross re-licking them after they fell off, they were all dirty and stuff.

Snoozin and Losin

Exhausted at the Getty.

Drunk at the taco place.

Short-Lived Hat

I bought this hat because Albert said it looked cool.  I didn't think so, but bought it on his recommendation.

For awhile, I would wear it on the bus when I rode in to work in Laguna Beach, but I eventually retired it. I think Goodwill has it now.

Selfie with hat.

Cockney Rejects

Feb. 2013, Santa Ana, CA.
(w/ Youth Brigade)

The Cockney Rejects show.

Gilliom Heritage, pt. 2

[Compiled from various posts on the Gilliomville message board, contributed by various Gillioms and Franks]:

Here’s how I understand my lineage - I am Todd, son of Jon, son of John, son of Orel, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, son of Adam.

Uncle Ralph was able to speak and read German during WWII. While stationed in Germany, he spent the night with a female circus performer, “to watch over her tigers.”

Jon, do you ever remember dad telling about working in the hay mow and one of the brothers was to come up to help him?  Before the brother came up, he threw the pitch fork into the mow and it ended up stuck in the calf of dad’s leg.

They had a game of hide and seek in the basement consisting of hiding and then the seeker would heat up a nail red hot on the coal stove and with a pair of pliers start poking into the corners trying to find a body.

Grandpa [John] Gilliom and some of his friends used to play a game which involved drinking a laxative. The general idea was to see who could be the last man holding it, but they learned real quick it was a better trick to go in the bathroom first, lock the door, and hole up. We asked Alvin Gerber and Uncle Rog about it, but they denied involvement pretty quick.

The story of the liquid laxative is Gospel according to dad. He told me that story so many times that I know it is true. He laughed so hard when telling it. He got the biggest kick about someone wising up and going into the bathroom first and taking up stool space. I asked Rog about it a few years ago and he played totally stupid. He tried to pass it off as being dad and Alvin. I wish dad was alive to refresh some minds.

Grandpa John, Son of Orel and father of Nancy, Jon, and Rick.

The story of the mink in the tile is quite clear in my mind. Dad always told the story, but I heard it straight from Uncle Ralph. The boys saw a mink on the way to school and chased it into a tile. Someone guarded the tile and someone else went home for traps. Uncle Ralph was the master trapper. He exposed a trap at the entrance to the tile. The second trap was cleverly concealed behind the first. The mink later saw the first trap and jumped over it. The mink landed with both front feet in the concealed trap. The story was always told with Ralph being quite the hero.

At recess, some of the boys started chasing and teasing a skunk and ended up getting sprayed and sent home.

Jon, do you remember a bull dog we had (I think it might have been when we lived in Vera Cruz) and we tied it to the clothes line and he hung himself? I surely didn't dream that, did I?

No, it was not a dream. I hated that dog. I remember we had Pug at Raymond Miller's farm. He was given to us with pedigree papers and all. He was a registered Boston Terrier. He used to go out in the pig lot and eat pig shit and then throw up in the yard and on the side walk. I used to wear shorts in the summer and he would bite me. He would just break the skin, but would leave big bruises. Don't you remember it? He used to bite you too. I remember the time he was barking at the cows and the whole herd stampeded, after him. Do you remember that? We lived in Vera Cruz, when he was chained on the clothes line run and got tangled up and hung himself one night. I never shed a tear. I hate pug-nose dogs of any kind to this day.

John, Jon, Nancy, and Hazel Gilliom.

John had a maiden Aunt. Aunt Sarah. She was Grandma Gilliom's sister. She made her home with Grandma & Grandpa. Those of you who remember mom know she did not take criticism well and being ordered around by other people even worse. She wanted to call Jon, "Barry," and Aunt Sarah did not like the idea one bit. Mom said if it had to be John, at least she would spell it the way she wanted to. Hence, the "Jon."

Dad used to get pissed off that Grandma wanted to name him Barry. He hates that name. I imagine he's over it by now, because he hasn't mentioned it in about 20 years. Maybe it's just too sore a topic.

I was going through photos here and found an autobiography Uncle Jon wrote for a class in grade school. It was a fun read - he said when he grew up, he wanted to be a barber, "so I can meet a lot of new people in a well-ventilated shop.”

Q:  To all relation of Gilliom roots:  Are we French?  Folks think my last name is French??? Are we French ... Guys I have to know. It’s really been bothering me. Yes or no - is this true?

A:  No, we are not French. Basically we are Swiss. I think there was a French Grandmother somewhere back there but Grandma Gilliom and all the Aunts and Uncles spoke Swiss. Mom (Grandma Hazel) could not understand Swiss so when we were at Grandma's everyone would speak English.

"Gilliom" does sound French. Uncle Jon says we were based in Alsace-Lorraine for some years. Alsace-Lorraine went back and forth between German and French occupation. We could've picked up a French spelling of the name there. I'm not sure where all that fits in the timeline though.

Found Note: Fight of the Two Dogs

Found note:

Imagery: 
The fight of the two dogs.

Gilliom Heritage, pt. 1

[Compiled from various posts on the Gilliomville message board, contributed by various Gillioms and Franks]:

The Old Gilliom Farm House.
Photo courtesy of Ross Frank.

It was all started back in the old country of Switzerland by Adam Gilliom (who my [Rick’s] Adam was named after). Adam’s wife's last name was Roetlishbarger. They had a son John, whose wife's name was Elizabeth Schneck. John and Elizabeth had two sons named Christian and Abraham, who came to America in 1823. Abraham Gilliom was born on Mount Munster, Canton, Bern Switzerland Sept.14, 1811. At the age of 12, he and his family immigrated to Wayne County, Ohio. Isaac was born in Ohio.

They moved outside of Vera Cruz between 1845 and 1847 to a farm of about 330 acres which the present Harold Isch was part of. Isaac married Melanie Hanny. She was born in Canton, Bern Switzerland on May 3, 1836. She came to America in 1844 with her family. They were French. I met a strange little photographer in Sedona AZ when I was running my meat route and when I told him my name was Gilliom, he said. “You’re Swiss.” He said our family name is a "registered name" in Bern Switzerland and that it was a Swiss Gov thing. Possible cause: the Swiss Gov taxes everything!!

He also told me that "Canton" was or is another name for mountain. With Switzerland a neutral Country, many people were there from many other countries:  France, Germany, Italy etc. I don't know why our name is registered...if we were within the law or outlaws and just a bunch of German hillbillies. This is from a family tree written by Grandpa Orel. Aunt Dula lent me copy back in 1986 or ‘87 and I haven't kept it up to date. I think I gave Jon a copy.

Isaac Gilliom, 1833-1873 was the first Gilliom that belonged to the Apostolic Church. I have no idea what religion they were in Switzerland. Isaac had a brother, Jacob, who went West in 1854 and was never heard from again.

Orel Gilliom.

I was talking to Uncle Roy last Sunday and he told me a good story about great grandpa Orel. When Orel decided to ask for his first wife's hand in marriage, he followed the church's tradition of visiting the church elder to request a proposal be sent to his prospective wife. Apparently when he did, the elder said, "Well, my Lizzie has feelings for you.” So Orel married Lizzie instead of the person he originally had intended to ask for. I guess sometimes a sure thing is better than a chance of first choice.

The spelling of "Orel" has been corrected [changed from “Oral”] in Gilliomville’s online photo gallery.

I did a genealogy project in college. Cousin Carol from Michigan told Mom that Peter Meyer met his wife at a square dance when his fiddle got caught in her skirt. Sounds scandalous to me.

I think it was Grandpa Ed and Grandma Flonie that meet at the square dance. (Now there is a name for someone in the family to carry on - Little Flonie Fern).

There was an Obed, son of Orel. Obed was John's brother that was killed in a wagon/car accident in his late 20's. Obed was in the wagon and the car hit him. Some of the family were on their way to the hospital and had an accident themselves. I have no idea who was driving but I know Aunt Vi had a head injury and was unconscious for several days.

Ask Kenny Gilliom about the story about the car wreck, I think he was thrown through the window. And Ralph was driving, "after a night at the Bluffton Street Fair."

While the era of the horse-drawn wagon is indisputably over, I am proud to be of a line to stick with them even into the era when it was dangerous to do so. God bless Great Uncle Obed!

I don't mean to make light of Gillioms' past tragedies, but personally, I always thought a horse would be a safer way to get around drunk. On one hand, I hate to hear about folks dying no matter how it happens, but on the other hand, something about Obed's departure sounds so close to home -- almost predictable.

Amish Tendencies

My family's ancestors were Anabaptists during the protestant reformation. Over time, schisms within the Anabaptist movement gave rise to groups like the Mennonites, Amish, and others. My direct line came from a later Anabaptist splinter group in Switzerland known as the Apostolics. So, I share some common ancestry with Amish folk.

Our family’s lineage can be traced back to Adam Gilliom, who emigrated from Switzerland to Indiana in the 1800s. At that time, we were Apostolic. A few generations later, my father became the first member of our family to leave the church entirely—a decision he made on his own. He’s mentioned that it was a tough time because none of his friends were allowed to talk to him anymore, and he deeply missed hunting and fishing with one of his cousins.

According to my parents, when I was a little kid, I had a memorable encounter with an Amish buggy. One passed by our house, and I took off chasing after it without a word. My mom was frantic when she realized I was missing; she even called the police.

Eventually, someone reported seeing a little kid running down the road after a buggy, yelling, "Horsey! Horsey!" The police found me and brought me home. When my mom asked what I was doing, I told her with great determination that I wanted to be “an Amish” when I grew up.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Feb. 20, 2004]

Fork Fangs

Cousin Ross taught me this at Long John Silvers in Fort Wayne, IN during the late 1970s and I've never forgotten it. Fork Fangs are an example Hoosier ingenuity at its best.

It's an easy way to entertain yourself and others in a public dining area for no extra cost while your parents are talking for hours. 

Directions:
1. Start with a standard disposable plastic fork.
2. Break off the handle and center prongs.
3. Flip it upside down.
4. Place it in your mouth, and....ta-daaaa - Vampire fangs.
5. Fun time!

Recreating the Fork Fangs experience as an adult..

Fortress of Solitude (Presto Magix)

Does anybody remember Presto Magix? You would get a background with a sheet of objects and characters that you could permanently transfer wherever you wanted them.

The best Presto Magix kits included a large variety of characters, but there were some duds like Superman's Fortress of Solitude that didn't give you much to work with. The only way to entertain yourself with these duds was to make inappropriate half-assed creations like this one that I found in a box of old personal items some years ago.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Feb. 3, 2004]

Good Times

Enjoying a turkey leg in Missouri.

Missouri turkey leg.