Somehow, my teenage body got into the swing of it, however, and by the end of the first week, I hardened to the task.
We bunked in a small cabin on Frank’s land, drawing water from a well next to the cabin. We shared cooking and cleaning chores. At night, we played rummy or pinochle or just stretched out and talked.
Cy Nims and I thoroughly enjoyed the ruminating talks we had on the road that summer. And what a wide and wild array of subjects we touched upon—
What the future might hold, in store for us—Howard Hughes and his new round the world speed record—names of the constellations—baseball and the Portland Beavers’ losing season—pretty girls—the Spanish Civil War— learning to fly—good movies and bad movies—Art Deco— juicy cheeseburgers—FDR and the Great Depression— Orson Welles’ recent radio scare, “War of the Worlds”—modern architecture—Benny Goodman, the King of Swing—Adolph Hitler—the launching of the S.S. “Queen Elizabeth”—life cycle of the Chinook salmon—working at the Portland, Rose Festival—favorite books we’d read and some we hadn’t—our parents—Don Budge’s Grand Slam championships—adventure in the South Seas—Fascism vs. Communism—skiing at Mi. Hood—the University of Oregon Web foots—our favorite movie stars—Willamette riverboats—the blues and all that jazz—•and on and on and on.
As for Butch.—he talked about football, pancakes and getting laid.
C’est la vie!