Pond Boss Forums GENERAL QUESTIONS Pond Boss And now you know the rest of the story

Dynamite on Cornhusker ladies, ehh?

You have no idea how many chicks I didn't get like that!

I have a somewhat humerous story that may fit this thread.

When I was 6 my brother 7 and my cousin 8. We looked like stair steps and almost identical. My uncle took the three of us to spotlight deer. His son ( my cousin ) was just getting into hunting and wanted to see some deer because they only get to come to my home once a year or so. So we were young, all in the front of the truck and all got to shoot a gun for the first time and were having a great time.

Before we left on this venture, my dad told my uncle (his brother) not to spotlight deer because it is illegal, and the game warden has been around. well we went to "the spot" its certain that you will see deer at dusk. So we got the spotlight out and were just looking at them when a vehicle pulled up behind us, and sure enough it was the game warden.

To set the scence we had 3 guns with us a .410 borrowed from a family friend, a 20ga and 12 ga that belong to my uncle. The three of us were scared stiff when the warden asked my uncle to step out and come talk to him.

The three of us wondered what was going on so we rolled down the windows and could hear "parts" of the conversation. I had no idea what was going to happen, I assumed my uncle was going to jail for sure and we were going to be left there to walk home.

We began to listen to the converation and this is what we all heard. my uncle was asked "how many he had" the answer from my uncle was 3. He was then told "well im going to have to take one of them with me". My heart sank, I knew at that moment he would put me up on the choping block to go to jail. There was no way he would give up his only son, or my brother for that matter. I knew it would be me. Sure enough my uncle answers with " take the little one because its not mine!!!!" he said it like he never gave it a second thought.

I immediately started saying goodbye to my brother and cousin, I asked them if they knew why i would have to go to jail, they had no answer. I was on the brink of crying.

My uncle came to the truck, opened the door, looked into my puppy eyes giving my best dont take me to jail look, and said, "could you get out jake?" I was ready to take one for the team so I got out and proceded to take the long walk to the game wardens truck.

My uncle asked me where i was going so i told him the story, and this then he laughed and the game warden may have too, I dont really remember.

He then straightened me out. and filled in the parts of the conversation me and the other two could not hear.

He gave up the little one that was not his because it was the .410 from the friend. ( it was the smallest gun, I was the smallest kid, the gun was not his just like he was not my dad) He made me get out of the truck so he could get the gun from behind the seat.

So finally I realized I was not going to jail, and had a pretty good story to tell. Just happened to have 3 guns and 3 kids, the next one a slightly larger version of the last. The game wared took the gun the light and gave us a fine.

Hope this made sense, sorry its so long. but now you know the rest of the story.

My wife and I built our home 4 years ago. It took 8 months of nights and weekends to build and many friends and family volunteered to help along the way. Anyhow we used leftover stone from some apartment building, leftover windows, leftover concrete siding, bathtubs, toilets, beams, trim etc. I even turned leftover oak hardwood flooring into our railing and newel posts along the loft. My dad and older brother build custom homes and most everything is special ordered and unreturnable when customers change their minds.

Anyhow, we have put our house up for sale and have our first open house Sunday from 2-4 pm. http://www.forsalebyowner.com/listing/7B315
We are going to rent for 2 years while we either fix up a place or build another.

Oh yeah, Bruce, I own my own bowling ball. I bet there arent many others that own their own ball???

Was that under the prestigious "Roy Munson Scholarship" Bruce???

LOL

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I was a traveling pool hustler. My "territory" were the Arizona copper mining towns of Miami, Superior and Globe. I still have a few visible scars from those days. My only momento of those days is a cue stick named Hot Lips.

I almost joined the Professional Bowling Association, but Uncle Sam was knocking at my door and that ended my entry into the PBA.

I have been a Lobbyist and testified in both Austin and Washington DC.

I have "ridden my thumb" to both coasts.

I have way too much formal education, a significant amount of street smarts and not a lick of common sense. "What was I thinking?"

I have learned the hard way to stay away from street bikes, flashy women, new products, any woman with a Lawyer, rank bulls and horses with that certain look in their eye.

I never forget an insult and have a friend named Sancho Panza.

I generally keep about 15 to 20 current, incomplete, projects around that I need to get onto. When I screw things up really badly, I open a beer and call Tom G.

66 years old (My father told me that I would never live to vote. "Boy, somebody is going to blow your damn head off.") 3 daughters, 6 Grandkids and 2 Great Grandkids. I like kids.

This is great folks. Exactly what I was looking for. Keep them coming.

It took 23 different schools to get me through high school, I have lived in 4 of the 5 corners of the US, I was married to the same woman 3 times. I have a father and a grandson who have traveled around Cape Horn on an aircraft carrier. I met Elvis Presley in Germany and had breakfast with Andy Williams in Las Vegas. Meadowlark and I worked for the same company and as for Sunil's name coming up in conversation, the answer seems simple, at least to me, you guys were drinking beer, a natural association.

You bet George. My father also grew up during the Great Depression and had much of the same values. He also had a pair of boots (construction type lace up boots) that he had resoled on many occasions. He use to say that a good pair of broken in boots were your best friend. It took me quite a few years to understand that.

The house is beautiful Natester!

Rad, how and why Thailand?

More stories, this is great!

I know I don't have much age to have developed an amazing story but I will try to chime in.

In college I went up to my friends dorm room and asked what she was up to. She told me she was going to move to Australia for a semester and asked if I wanted to join. I promptly said yes.

And that was how i ended up living in Australia for 5 months. I ended up getting a good buddy of mine to join, he didn't need much convincing either.

My first week there I road a Sea Turtle at the Great Barrier Reef. Got stuck knee deep in a crocodile, jellyfish, and stingray infested estuary (the lifeguard was very upset I was in there) and almost got evicted from my apartment.

Heaps good time.

Mikeyboy, I must disagree with you, that IS an amazing story! And with your spirit of adventure you'll have a life time of adventures to write about when you're my age (51). Keep the desire for a quest for adventure and knowledge and who knows where life will take you. You're off to a great start already!

Keep these great stories coming folks.

...only if she was in it

I was hoping to find photos of this whole episode before I told "the rest of the story." Unfortunately, I can't find them.

It is true that Patsy Cline (Ginny Hensley) was born in Winchester, VA, because that is where the closest hospital is still located. Her family lived just up the road from where I now live, in what is technically Gore, VA. I go by the Triangle Diner and Gaunt's Drug everyday -- places where she worked when she was a teenager.

Fast forward from the 1930s/1940s to the 1990s . . .

A "city" family bought the farm where I now live. They wanted some West Virginia "country decorations." The closest neighbor was Pasty Cline's cousin. The old Hensley home, about a half mile away was covered in vines and brush. They took a pickup truck and got the old outhouse and a window from the house. The outhouse was in our backyard when we moved in.

We knew it was the Pasty Cline family's outhouse when we bought the place, but we didn't know the history. It had two pink toilet seats, a tin roof, and a number of old Virginia license plates nailed to the walls and door.

I wanted to donate it to the Pasty Cline historical group. My wife was worried that it was illegally taken -- so it was a stolen outhouse. She also thought it was pretty ugly. It was made from rough-cut oak boards, and had a corrugated tin roof.

My wonderful wife convinced me to use the tractor to push it into the burn pit, where I set it on fire one October evening while she was at a community volunteer group meeting with quite a few people who knew the history -- but we didn't know it at the time.

As we found out in subsequent years, it wasn't stolen. The grandson of Pasty Cline's cousin now lives on the property adjacent to mine. He told me most of the story. Other neighbors have told me other parts of the story.

We unfortunately burned a historic outhouse.

That's one down the tubes so to speak.

One more . . .

I grew up where Manitoba and Ontario were much closer to me than the adjacent US States of Iowa and Illinois.

A little over 40 years ago, when I was almost 22 years old and still in college, Uncle Sam sent me an invitation for a six year all expenses paid tour of much warmer climates far away from Northern Wisconsin and Northern Minnesota.

Uncle Sam sent me a train ticket from Duluth to Minneapolis and a plane ticket from Minneapolis to San Diego. When I got to San Diego, Uncle Sam gave me a hair cut, new clothes, some shots in my arm, and free room and board.

A day or so after arriving in San Diego, I went to the Navy Exchange to buy a few little articles that Uncle Sam didn't put in my new "ditty bag."

When I took some money out of my wallet, the young lady behind the counter said I couldn't pay for my few items with "that stuff."

I was confused. She told me that was "foreign money." I slowly mumbled a jaw dropping and long dumb "huh??" I said that it was not foreign money -- it was Canadian money. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that was "FOREIGN MONEY!" It took me a while to comprehend that she wasn't going to take my money. Two of my cousins, and several other friends from my home area had the same experience.

Forty years ago today, I left boot camp in San Diego -- still with a fair amount of Canadian money in my wallet. After my 30 days of relaxation in Northern Minnesota and Northern Wisconsin, I made sure I had none of "that stuff" in my wallet as I headed to school in San Francisco.

I liked it a lot better when the Canadians were still our best friends and weren't those imagined radicals above the frost line. (To this day, I still feel they have bigger fish and better fishing than we do!) I now wonder how many times the old roads on the Minnesota/Manitoba/Ontario lines crossed between the countries without checkpoints -- when we visited the cousins, aunts, and uncles without a passport and lots of paperwork to come back after renting a car.

from bowling to cleaning teeth....truly fascinating



i couldnt take the peer pressure anymore....

http://s68.photobucket.com/albums/i9/jdsmith2/misc/?action=view¤t=MaryGSF.flv

yer next sunil...

Oh yeah!!!!!!!!!

That is great DIED! I never thought you'd actually make a video, how dare I doubt you... You are quite talented! Wanna play at my wedding? HAHA

Rock me baby!
Good one, Dave. Do you maintain your callouses, or do you work with sore finger tips when friends and family bug ya to jam?

Oncor oncor

DIED, you rock! See folks I told you DIED had mad guitar skills. And you thought this was just another one of my stories.

Right on my brother, thank you for making the video and posting it, that is truly awesome my good friend.

TOM G, you are dangerously close to a phone call.

You mean "Encore, encore!"

i'd love to play at the reception, but only after the bar has been open for a while...



very perceptive b'ski, they used to be so thick i couldnt a feel a thing, now after 10 minutes of playing i need first aid for the bleeding and wimper like a baby for the next three days.

BTW, that video was the second take, i could barely get through those last couple chords, on the first take i found out two of my power chords and my "cry baby" are shot.



nah, i'm done for probably another 6 months or so tom, but thanks for the props



jhap, my "skills" are a dime a dozen, but i'm tickled you had fun w/ this, i did too....i wont be quittin the day job anytime soon....



c'mon sunil, you have the encore......i gave you a taste of an old strat w/ an old amp, now lets hear one of yer sweet new axes..

and the crowd screams "su neeel! su neel! su neeel!"

Rock On!!