prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. I blog a lot about my body and getting old. As I approach death life gets more interesting. More interesting is not good. I still drive. I attend sports, music, and civic events. I am writing my memoirs. I attend swim class three times a week. Some of my blogs might be interesting. A lot of my blogs are silly and trivial. None are very long.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

The Prunepicker registered for the Draft (WW II) in Portland, Oregon.

I was researching on Ancestry.com the other day. They had listed some draft information since I was last on the site. There was the surprising information that I had registered for the draft in Portland. This was startling to me! I was born and raised in Pomona, California. Portland, Oregon is 990 mile north of Pomona! What was a 17 year old boy doing 990 miles from home registering for the draft? Let me explain. Here is the draft card information.


Notice that I weighed 190 pounds. Also that I had lied about my age. I was born in 1925 not 1924. I was hoping to be drafted. I was. I went in the Army on the 10th of April 1943. It took four months. I was drafted from Pomona. I had tried to enlist several times, since Pearl Harbor, but my Dad would not sign for me. He loved me and did not want to see me get hurt. I could not enlist without my Father's consent, but I could be drafted with out it.

I was working in in a plant in Emeryville, California. The city is adjacent to Oakland and Berkeley. I heard that there were good paying jobs in the shipyards located in the Portland, Oregon area. I went there and applied for work. My prospective employers must have wanted to see my draft card.

So that is why I was in Portland on 12 Dec 1942. Do you know where you were on 12 Dec 1942?

Thursday, July 26, 2018

The old prune picker is 93!

My birthday was last Friday, July 20. On that day most of my family was out of town. However my sweet grand daughter Joy took me to lunch at the Taco Bell in West Monroe. Thank you Joy. I had a crunchy taco, cheesy potatoes, and a lemonade. One of my favorite lunches.

When the various schedules permitted a birthday party was planned for yesterday at Johnny's Pizza in West Monroe. My youngest great grand child Johnny Lynn Miller and her Mother were here from Franklinton, Louisiana. She and my great grandson Christian Newberry made this enormous and wonderful birthday card.


What a festive and jolly party.




This last picture was taken by my son in law, John Adams. Great shot of Ross Newberry, Ethan Newberry, Joy Newberry, Charles Elbert Monson (Age 93), Kerry Adams, Christian Newberry, Katie Miller, and Johnny Miller.


Saturday, July 21, 2018

Michael Ray and the old Prunepicker at the 2018 Folk Festival.


This is the third year in a row that Michael and I have attended the Louisiana Folk Festival. We almost know the names of some of the dancers. We had a great time. Cajuns are such nice friendly people.

Had meat pie on the way home.




Some typical Cajuns.


Monday, July 16, 2018

Ragamuffin



I was never a real ragamuffin but I was very close to being one in my pre-teen and early teen tears. (late 1930s) All of my siblings had flown the nest and there was now just my Dad and I. My Dad was a good man but he was worn out from bringing nine children to maturity. He relaxed and let me do pretty much what I wanted to do.

Here is a story from my ragamuffin years. I was crazy about movies. It took ten cents to get in the theater. That was big money in those days and I usually did not have it. I can remember calling my sister Jean who was the office manager at the Pomona Tile Plant and asking for a dime. It was a long Saturday morning walk out to the plant.

Here was another way that I used to raise ten cents. I would walk the alleys in the better part of Pomona and look in the garbage cans for bottles that were worth a deposit. They were usually wine bottles.
I hated the bottles that said they were not to be reused. They were usually whiskey bottles. If I was lucky I would find several returnable bottles. I remember the liquor store in downtown Pomona that would give me cash for them. The cash was two cents per bottle. And off to the movie I would go!


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Mutiny


While in the Army I was involved in only one mutiny. And I was forced into that mutiny by my fellow soldiers. I did not resist the acton of my fellow soldiers too hard. Let me explain.

Definition of mutiny.


Yes that is what I was involved in. It was in my last month of service. I was on a troopship in Tacoma, Washington.


We had shipped out of Seoul, Korea. It was several months after VJ Day. There were several thousand of us on the ship. Most of us had been over seas for some time. Our ship had been docked for several hours in Tacoma. Across the dock from us were busses waiting to take us downtown. We had been standing shoulder to shoulder waiting for the officers to let us off the ship. There were rumors of passes, and when the passes would be issued. We were thinking about steak dinners and the bright lights of Tacoma.

And then the mutiny started! Slowly several thousand men started to go down the gang plank. I was in the middle of them. The officers were yelling orders and trying to stop us. We pushed them aside.
the officers did not have a chance. Thousands versus several. Across the dock we went to the busses. I must admit that I was a participant in the mutiny. Boy, was that steak good! And with a big fresh salad.

The ship was docked and waiting to unload for several days. Many of us stayed at the USO in town while we waited to be sent to Fort Lewis. I remember being in a huge field house and listening to Betty Hutton sing "Doctor Lawyer Indian Chief".

We had our Christmas, 1945 meal at Fort Lewis. The meal was served by German prisoners of war.


Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Vital Signs for June 2018.

Good signs. Blood pressure is good. Weight from 240 to 234. Six pounds in June and 9 pounds in May. 15 pounds since I started back on Apple Cider Vinegar.

Notice I did 6700 steps on June 17. That is the day I flew home from Washington DC.


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