Bon Voyage

My name is schkowteechk and was given to me by Emeelia Okigawa, a Tlingit shaman, the earth mother of few. A glaaka not, though biologically incorrect. As I served my mission, it was unfortunate that my biological parents were over 1000 miles away as this occurred and unable to observe. The name referring to the overseer of a boat or the one in front leading and guiding the way.

Since this occurred, almost 40 years ago, in the small Alaskan hamlet of Petersburg, I reflect back as to how appropriate the name has become. I am, as most are aware, the most miserable follower and usually move to the forward of any pack. Co-incidentally my patriarchal blessing states that I am, to be, a most miserable follower and will always step into a leadership roll. “Thou shalt always be a leader, and let me state more, other titles of leadership wilt thou have, in thy day and age in the world.” The world,… really?

Perhaps this has been to my detriment as I am very competitive in most situations and become easily offended if unable to take the lead. This has occurred in family, church and community and can probably be well documented.

The snow was falling heavy in the Wrangell Narrows as the captain negotiated the narrow crack between the two islands to bring the ship of many, safely to port with only the guiding light of continual beacons to follow and turn. The singular lighthouse beacon of uninhabited San Salvador Island marking the spot that Columbus stumbled upon what he thought was India, actually discovering the Americas. Angels gate at Los Angeles Harbor that separates the protected from the open sea and Santa Catalina only a few miles, but a different world away.

I have found that some of my most memorable experiences have occurred co-incidentally, as schkowteechk the overseer of a boat. Today as we depart, and sail down the Missippi, your mother will know where to find me as we leave New Orleans for the Yucatan and ports further south. My mind will reflect back to the insight of Emeelia Okigawa, the earth mother of few. A glaaka not, though biologically incorrect.

BonVoyage

My name is schkowteechk and was given to me by Emeelia Okigawa, a Tlingit shaman, the earth mother of few. A glaaka not, though biologically incorrect. As I served my mission, it was unfortunate that my biological parents were over 1000 miles away as this occurred and unable to observe. The name referring to the overseer of a boat or the one in front leading and guiding the way.

Since this occurred, almost 40 years ago, in the small Alaskan hamlet of Petersburg, I reflect back as to how appropriate the name has become. I am, as most are aware, the most miserable follower and usually move to the forward of any pack. Co-incidentally my patriarchal blessing states that I am, to be, a most miserable follower and will always step into a leadership roll. “Thou shalt always be a leader, and let me state more, other titles of leadership wilt thou have, in thy day and age in the world.” The world,… really?

Perhaps this has been to my detriment as I am very competitive in most situations and become easily offended if unable to take the lead. This has occurred in family, church and community and can probably be well documented.

The snow was falling heavy in the Wrangell Narrows as the captain negotiated the narrow crack between the two islands to bring the ship of many, safely to port with only the guiding light of continual beacons to follow and turn. The singular lighthouse beacon of uninhabited San Salvador Island marking the spot that Columbus stumbled upon what he thought was India, actually discovering the Americas. Angels gate at Los Angeles Harbor that separates the protected from the open sea and Santa Catalina only a few miles, but a different world away.

I have found that some of my most memorable experiences have occurred co-incidentally, as schkowteechk the overseer of a boat. Today as we depart, and sail down the Missippi, your mother will know where to find me as we leave New Orleans for the Yucatan and ports further south. My mind will reflect back to the insight of Emeelia Okigawa, the earth mother of few. A glaaka not, though biologically incorrect.

K F W B, Color Radio, Channel 98. Eu E eu ah ah ting tang walla walla bing bang, and oh yeah the One eyed one horned flying purple people eater… number one on the big hit parade. “Standing on the corner watching all the girls go by,” on the one band AM radio of my dads Black and gold 1957 Ford Fairlane… a HOT car with tail fins. It was the late fifties and early sixties, and I was growing up in Los Angeles. Pope Pius from Rome and Jimmy Swaggart from New Orleans were on the television preaching religion along with the Grand Ole Opry. It wasn’t Lincoln or Washington but some old guy named Ike who didn’t have hair, was the president. My aunt and uncle were democrats and they were supporting some guy running for president who was from Massachusetts and named Kennedy ( no chance of winning-Nixon the VP would win the race). Marilyn Monroe and Jack Lemmon in, “The Seven Year Itch.” Hot stuff. Unfortunately that was adult stuff and I was just a kid.
I remember the night air on the Westside smelling sweet with the scent of night blooming jasmine, Sand dunes and salt flats on the way to the beach. It was only 6 blocks from my aunts house on Maxcella to Lincoln Blvd and the sand dunes where just across the road. (two lanes back then) cross the road and a vast playground for myself and cousins to play war and hide in the dunes and grass. When the rains came and flooded Venice and parts of Mar Vista, they just ran hoses down the streets and pump the water into the dunes and what was then wetlands.
Marina Del Rey (high priced real estate) now occupies this area now and the Pacific Coast Highway that actually ran along the beach back then became Highway 1 and was moved inland to Lincoln Blvd which was then widened. Later the Richard Nixon Freeway (SR90-Marina Freeway)would be built and link all this area to the newly built San Diego Freeway (I-405). These freeways as well as the Santa Monica (I-10) would soon be built. Dirt roads would be replaced with pavement and trees that had been planted would grow tall.

40th anniversary

Other than a few trips across the Mexican border for fishing and scout trips, I had never really left the sovereign territory of the United States. My friend and companion Don Roberts whom I had grown up with, was able to catch the more direct flight even though he had mis-placed his ticket. The rest of us had to take the milk run by leaving first and arriving last. Stopping 1st in what appeared to be a frozen waist land called Boise, we flew on to Portland, Seattle, and finally about dusk we landed just off the coast at a place called Lulu Island and we were finally there (well almost finally there). The van ride was short to downtown where pictures were taken in a professional photo studio. (Lucky for me, as I had crashed and burned the night prior and had a bandage and stitches in my chin- they were able to cover it up well). Finally up the hill to Shawnessey Heights and the mission home and our long journey was over. Or should I say the journey had begun.
40 years ago today I arrived in Vancouver, British Columbia to begin my mission. Many roads would be traveled in the next two years. It is hard to explain the sheer beauty one had to endure, to labor in such magnificent surroundings. The memories etched in ones mind of wonderful people and experiences that stay with one forever.
Two years later, my last day in Vancouver at the bus station I would I observe the Canadian Olympic team as they were departing for the Sapporo, Japan Olympics. Upon arriving home in California I was able to watch some of the Olympic participants I had met just a few days prior. Today I sit before the television and observed the Opening ceremony for the Vancouver Olympics. A lot has happened over these many years, including participating in the Salt Lake Olympics. I found myself wanting to be their again as the caldron was lit and take part of the spirit of the event. Unfortunately we will have to enjoy the view from our comfortable homes.

Flight of the Commanche Flight of the Bird of Paridise

My first trip on and airplane came at the age of 16, after driving across the US my adopted big brother, Ted Lyon, and I flew back from Oklahoma City to Los Angeles. I can remember listening to the stereo headphones playing the theme from the, Magnificent Seven,” as we landed for a short stop in Dallas and remembered the feeling for freedom and power to see so much in such a short time. Later that same year when my family flew north to San Jose to spend Thanksgiving with Aunt Anna I was already a seasoned flyer and always took the window seat to navigate the flight

When I was 18years old, while preparing for my mission, I flew a plane from Searchlight Nevada to Pine Mt. Utah. I worked for a construction company building The Lancaster II, III ward building and when the head electrician on the project (who lived in Salt Lake City, and commuted to and from Lancaster weekly) asked if we anyone would like to fly up with him for General Conference, I jumped at the opportunity. The next morning along with two other priests in my ward quorum (Arlo Blatter, Paul Cheney)we left in his Commanche Piper Cub four seater. An hour later we took a pit stop at Searchlight we continued north. Bro X (don’t remember his name) as the pilot, turned to me and told me he was tired and for me to fly the plane in the direction of the two mountain peaks in the distance while he caught a nap. Having never flown a plane before he gave me a few quick instructions told me it would be OK and nodded off. An hour later he awoke to find that we were directly between the two peaks and he re-established his control of the plane. Simple directions, and I few for over an hour in the small plane. We continued unscathed and enjoyed Conference that weekend. I would have the opportunity many more times that fall to fly with Bro. X and experience flying. I have since taken many an opportunity to find freedom in flying above the world and observing much the normal person can never imagine.

Recently Mom and I along with Jesse and Cammie had the opportunity to travel to Kauai and while there we visited the Kiliuea light house. A small historic facility only 80 foot tall and 31 ½ feet around with a kerosene light refractor on top that could be seen 100 miles out to sea. Historic with re: the Flight of the Bird of paradise which took off from Oakland California 6-28-1927. Charles Lindberg stated this more so that his own historic flight would be the greatest feat for aeronautics flying of the time, further than anyone, including himself, over open water to a select destination. Flying at a correct heading towards Honolulu they managed to miss Honolulu and the Hawaiian Islands by over 90 miles. Running short of fuel the co-pilot noted a flash of light to the south repeating at a regular interval. Turning south and flying 90 miles they discovered the lighthouse at Kiliuea, Kauai, and then turned east across a distance to land back at Honolulu.

Christmas

A Christmas to remember
After 37 years of family Christmas’ experiences, this year was a little different with just the two of us being here at home. It was OK, and as you all have your own lives and families to consider, we heard from all of you through out the day with much to reflect on in our lives.
Rememberance from my past:
1960 Church groups collect toys, dolls, and hula hoops and then deliver them to our neighborhood (Hazelton Avenue). I guess we were considered an under-privileged community. Dinner at grandmother or Aunt Pat’s house would include the men leaving to raid the local Christmas tree Lot, (everything was free after midnight) so off they would go and bring back trees and wreaths that we would burn in the fireplace for a nice Christmas smell.
1970 – Mission, Ketchikan Alaska - What was supposed to be a White Christmas changed suddenly when it rained and melted the snow away. College students from all over, arrived home to spend the holidays with family. Being a small branch they gathered and provided memories and correspondence that still lives through today.
1971 – Mission, Salmon Arm, British Columbia, Plenty of the white stuff this year and cold -40. Drove to Kamloops on Christmas eve, eve, (Dec 23) to avoid morning travel in bad weather for district meeting. Arriving late for church late, (evening Sacrament Meeting) we snuck in the back door and grabbed the two closed available seats in the small chapel… just happened to be the Choir area however. When the choir stood, so did we, and though they covered for us well, it was probably the worst rendition I have ever heard of, “Oh Holy Night.” Spent Christmas eve with Part member family. Lots of fun tubing in the bitter cold. Next morning was Christmas and when we drove to the Indian reservation, we were the only Santa to many of the children.
Hope you have a Merry Christmas and please remember to make memories for your families.
Dad

The Airport

WHEN DAVID DROVE ME TO THE AIRPORT IN DENVER MONDAY MORNING IT WAS 22 DEGREES WITH A CRYSTAL CLEAR SKY. THE AIRPORT (STAPLETON) USED TO BE CLOSE TO DOWNTOWN BUT IN THE 90’S D.I.A. WAS BUILT ABOUT 20 MILES EAST OF TOWN. IN THE CLEAR MORNING AIR YOU COULD SEE 10-15 MILES OUT ON THE PLAINS ALL THE WAY TO THE NEW AIRFIELD WITH THE ONE MAJOR HIGHWAY ARTERY LIT WITH THE RED TAIL LIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE ON THE WAY TO GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE.

THE FLIGHT TAKING OFF ON TIME AT 7AM WAS PHENOMINAL. EVEREYONE SHOULD IN THEIR LIVES WATCH THE SUN COME UP OVER THE ROCKIES. THE GRAND CANYON WAS TRULY GRAND AS WE RACED THE SUN TO CALIFORNIA. SOMEWHERE SOUTH OF LAS VEGAS WE STARTED OUR APPROACH TO LAX AND SOON WE WERE ON THE GROUND. AS WE LANDED I NOTED THE SPANISH STYLE BUILDING TO THE RIGHT THAT ONCE STOOD AS THE WELCOME MAT FOR ALL ARRIVING PASSENGERS TO LOS ANGELES. YES THE OLD TERMINAL STILL STANDS AT THE END OF AIRPORT BLVD NEAR WESTCHESTER. HOWEVER NOW IT IS A TERMINAL FOR PACKAGES LEAVING TO TRAVEL THE WORLD. THE TERMINAL BUILDING LOOKS A LOT LIKE OTHER TERMINALS STILL BEING USED AT BURBANK AND LONG BEACH TODAY,….ONLY SMALLER.

I REMEMBER WHEN MY FAMILY, IN 1954, WENT OUT ACROSS THE OPEN FIELDS TO THE LITTLE AIRPORT, MEETING MY ARRIVING GRAND PARENTS. WE SEARCHED FOR WHAT SEEMED LIKE HOURS UNTIL WE FINALLY FOUND THEM NEAR THE ONLY BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA WHICH WAS OUT DOORS. THE ONE MILE SQUARE AIRPORT, BORDERED BY CENTURY, SEPULVEDA, IMPERIAL, AND AVIATION BLVDS. TWO RUNWAYS WERE ALLTHAT SERVED THE LANDING AIRCRAFT.

NO FREEWAYS EXISTED AT THAT TIME OUTSIDE OF THE CENTRAL CITY. CENTURY BLVD. WAS THE MAIN ARTERY TO GET TO THE AIRPORT FROM THE HARBOR FREEWAY WHICH STRETCHED 8 MILES SOUTH OF DOWN TOWN (THAT’S THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THE TEHACHAPI HOUSE AND TOWN). NOT TOO LONG AFTER THAT, CONSTRUCTION BEGAN ON WHAT WOULD BE THE SEPULVEDA TUNNEL THAT WOULD ALLOW THE AIRPORT TO SPREAD AND STRETCH THE 3 & 1/2 MILES FURTHER WEST TO THE BEACH. ADDITIONAL INDUSTRIAL AREA NORTH OF CENTURY EXPANDED THE AIRPORT TO THE RUNWAYS WHERE TODAY PLANES LAND OVERHEAD OF WHAT IS NOW IN-N-OUT. HALF OF THE COMMUNITY OF WESTCHESTER AND ALL OF VISTA PLAYA DEL REY WERE WIPED OFF THE MAP TO MAKE WAY FOR THE EXPANSION.

AS CHILDREN WE WOULD RIDE OUR BIKES FROM CULVER CITY UP THE SEPULVEDA HILL PAST THE LOYOLA THEATER TO THE NEW AIRPORT. WE RODE OUR BIKES ON THE ROADS, IN THE PARKING LOTS AND INTO AND AROUND THE TERMINALS AND RUNWAYS. NO FENCES WERE REQUIRED BECAUSE ONLY SOME CRAZY PERSON WOULD THINK OF GETTING IN THE WAY OF THE PLANES THAT WOULD BE TAKING OFF AND LANDING. ON THE WAY BACK FROM OUR ADVENTURES WE WOULD STOP OFF AT WHAT WOULD BE DESCRIBED TODAY AS AN OPEN AIR SWAP MEET. AIRPORT VILLAGE SERVED ETHNIC FOOD OF ALL NATIONALITIES BUT SOON EVEN THE VILLAGE WOULD BE GONE, GOBBLED UP IN THE PATH OF THE SAN DIEGO FREEWAY.

SOON AFTER THE OPENING OF THE NEW AIRPORT, THE LOCAL SCHOOL CHILDREN, (MYSELF INCLUDED) WERE INVITED TO TOUR THE FACILITY. WE ALL WALKED THE TUNNELS THAT RAN UNDER THE RUNWAYS BETWEEN THE STREETS AND TERMINALS. THE PRICE TAG WE WERE TOLD WAS A WOPPING 16 MILLION DOLLARS (NO LOCAL TAX MONEY) TO BUILD THE PLACE. ALL THIS MONEY CAME FROM THE $1 CHARGED EACH PASSENGER’S TICKET TO USE THE PLACE.

THE OPEN FIELDS FROM DOWNTOWN TO THE AIRPORT WERE ALL SOON FILLED WITH HOMES AND FREEWAYS LINKED EVERYONE CLOSER TOGETHER. PERHAPS THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN WITH ALL THE OPEN PLAINS BETWEEN DENVER AND D.I.A.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS HISTORY.

DAD