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Sunday, September 30, 2007


Don King implicated in human fighting operation


LAS VEGAS—This week investigators searched Don King’s home for evidence that might link him to human fighting. The search was based on an informant’s claim that King had financially backed the training of humans for fighting and even promoted human fighting events to drive ticket sales and gambling revenue for the events.



In June, reports came in that King was under legal scrutiny as federal authorities launched an investigation into allegations that he had extensive involvement in the subculture of human fighting and related gambling. An initial search of his 28-acre property revealed several photos, belts and trophies that seemed to have a connection to a human fighting operation.


Click here for the rest of this story:



http://thegiantnapkin.com/donking.htm

Friday, September 28, 2007





More Colorful Forrester Memories

also published here:

By Jim Banholzer












I always admired dad for the choices he made buying houses adjacent to wilderness areas. The house he purchased in the mid-sixties at 140 North Columbus Street, affording us young rascals rich opportunities to run around in the woods and sprout up without “nature deficit disorder.”



Our Arlington Forest home stood next to one of the paved paths that funneled down into the park. It was the perfect intersection for us to set up a lemonade stand on sweltering Saturday afternoons. Sometimes, as we rapscallions barked out fruit juice availability, we would receive cherished mercury dimes for the fare. And sometimes our lemonade profits became as elusive as quicksilver as my brother; David would promptly spend them on Italian Ices from the Popsicle truck.



During this era, Batman was one of our favorite shows on TV. One sunny afternoon, I dressed up in my yard as a caped crusader in my miniature Batman Costume. Wandering over to the park entrance, I noticed that some “bad teenagers” had furled up the metal “No Parking” signs, so that they were illegible. With all the tremendous strength my six-year-old body could muster, I tried unfurling the bent signs, so that the good Arlington Forest citizenry could again follow the posted law. But it was to no avail. Just then, a police car screeched to a halt in front of our house. Although I was in the right, I became nervous, ran and hid behind a rock in my own front yard. The policemen shouted, “Hey you!”











I emerged from the rock with a meek, “Who me?”






“Yes, what are you doing damaging that sign?”






I started to whimper, explained that I was fixing it and added, “I’m Batman. I’m a good guy!”






The officers politely laughed, saw that it was a misunderstanding, sternly thanked me for trying to mend the sign and drove off in the dust to fight some larger crimes.






I always thought that I would like to tell this story to Adam West, the actor who originally portrayed Batman, since I am a writer living in the same Idaho valley as he. It would be extra bat-nice if he could sign my bat-heroic photo. Perhaps he has an online fan club of some sort. Hmmm…



~ ~ ~



Another friend from Virginia, Colt, told me a related story from this era. One morning he was watching the Ranger Rick show on his black and white Zenith television. The Ranger appeared holding a black and white spiraled spinning top.






He proclaimed that once it started turning that the kids would see colors emanating from the spiral, even if they only had a black and white TV. Colt called to his ma in the other room to announce what was about to happen. She brushed it off nicely with a, “sure that’s nice, son”, but after he became more adamant, she stepped into the room in the nick of time to witness the optical illusion miracle of colors dancing out from their black and white TV.

Part two: Grinning back at Barrett:

http://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/2007/09/grinning-back-at-barrett-by-jim_17.html

Part one: Shopping Center Dreams and Depts Unpaid:

http://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/2007/08/kindly-recompensating-impossible-man-in.html



















































PRE-SCHOOL POLITICAL AD

Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Church Bell and the Police Scanner

Kids tuned in on their edge

To the police scanner

To hark about what

Crooks and liars

Were up to

The church bell dinged out

Twenty-nine glorious times

Once for each grizzled man

In the cold sea gravy of

The Edmund Fitzgerald

When will some body

Invent a scanner

That never fizzles

But only dribbles out

Brighter shades of news

Like

Angels cheerfully juggling photons

Or how most of the children at

The Community School

Held zippy smiles joyfully pasted

Upon perfectly sunny days

Hardscrabble landscape





Dave Freeman’s landscape crew met in Arlington Forest for a day of work. At the appropriate minute, the workers showed up and loaded themselves into the back of his stake-body truck. The poor laborers came from various backgrounds and seemingly every nationality.





Since the truck was filled with men, the two youngsters came along in my rig over to the jobsite. The job was in the middle of Arlington Forest, except that it was futuristic. Instead of landscaping, we were shifted over to work on a skyscraper. The work looked very dangerous. We were given the choice of working up very high in the sky, or else below in the earth, way down where steel beams connected mantle.





While awaiting Dave’s truck, two shirtless men and I started running very athletically along the street –back and forth up the cobblestone hills. One of us stopped to sip a tiny amount of wine and beer, magically combining the drinks with two small canisters. This was baffling. The man (an earlier me?) drank – then spiked the glass against a brick wall, before continuing on his almighty jog.





A wino there became very angry with himself. He didn’t realize the offer he turned down, which the athletic man had made to give him a ride had been a true one. We all ran some more, then suddenly the area opened very wide into the diplomatic area of D.C. -centered by the Brickskeller bar.


I thought to offer the men that they might like to stop in sometime for a drink there after work. What is more, I wasn’t sure if I was capable of holding up at this hardscrabble job beyond the next hour.




Airport security arsenal adds behavior detection


So then who will screen the screeners for their intentions?
God forbid that a TSA Rambo wannabee has their innermost secret desires loudly broadcast over an airport transmitter, such as “I can’t wait to tear apart some Towel-head Islam butt with this cheer tazzball bat.”



http://www.usatoday.com/travel/flights/2007-09-25-behavior-detection_N.htm?csp=34

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Abnormal Psychology

College of Southern Idaho

Professor Nancy Kneeland

Two Troublesome Things

By Jim Banholzer

A. Activating event

Although, arrowhead hunting is one of my favorite hobbies, sometimes I hold trepidation of running into rattlesnakes, while searching for Indian points amongst the sacred Picabo desert sagebrush. Rattlers have stuck at me four times. Once with the snake biting the crease in my blue jeans at the side of my knee.

B. Beliefs

Upon my return from my first arrowhead discovery there, I ran over a wealthy landowner’s cherished Labrador retriever in his driveway, killing it. This led me to believe that I was cursed, since I had drunkenly removed the arrowhead from the same grounds where my ancestors committed genocide, thoughtlessly killing multitudes of Native Americans.

Snakes karmatically guard the territory, if I put out bad vibes, they will bite me.

If snakes bite me, I will become extremely sick and possible die.

C. Emotional, Behavior reaction & remedy

Actually, I think that the danger is part of the attraction. For one thing intersecting with rattlers is always an awakening encounter! Ten years ago, a friend and I were riding mountain bikes down there and had a rattler snap lightning-like at both of our bike spokes. Had nothing of the sort happened that day, it would not have been as memorable. Nonetheless, sometimes my imagination runs wild and I begin to think of things like; what if one bit me, and then I keeled over unconscious, meanwhile crushing my cell phone into a large obsidian rock, so that it became inoperable upon my painful reawakening. Mostly though, I try to send out good vibes to the serpent kingdom, wear thick lumberjack boots, two pairs of pants, avoid leaning my exposed shoulder too close into hills and caves and keep a first aid kit handy. In addition, I try to visualize that if I actually did become snake-bit that I would then need to become a cool cat. Becoming frenzied about the situation, will only make my blood circulate faster, resulting in quicker toxicity to my internal organs. Therefore, if such an occasion arises, I will need to make a sustained effort to mediate on peaceful cooling thoughts.

Recently I employed a specific ritual, as a remedy to “get past” my bad juju superstition. My friend Tony, who is Native American, hit two perfect bull’s-eyes on a tiny target with his crossbow. This I saw as an occasion to reward him ceremoniously with another arrowhead I had discovered in the same region as the cursed point. The point I gave Tony had the sharpest point of any I have so far discovered. We even joked to be careful, because it looked so fresh that it might still have frog poison dipped on it. Superstition, placebo effect, call it what you may, since rewarding Tony with the “returned” arrowhead, I feel as though my travails and trepidations in Snaky territory, will now shift to the better. I will travel through Picabo Desert with hopes of emanating vibes positive enough that snakes will sense my good intentions. Maybe, I’ll even become friends with one. After all, snakes need a good scruff behind the head and belly rub too, don’t they?

~ ~ ~

A. Fear of driving over the Perrine Bridge (worse fear of walking over it)

The bridge could fall, taking me with it. Ice is not nice. Terrorists might choose to explode it the moment I am traveling over it. (It was heavily guarded in the weeks immediately following 9-11.) A tractor-trailer, Meth head, or someone suffering from a stroke could suddenly veer out of control or not hold enough respect for the dangerous area, resulting in a disastrous crash.

Avoid thinking about bridges and tall places. I tried this for a while, but the fear eventually returns. Ultimately, I decided to confront the fear head on by writing about it. This led to this letter published in the Times-News:

Story published at magicvalley.com on Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Last modified on
Monday, November 13, 2006 11:55 PM MST

Perrine BASE jumping invites more suicides

By JIM BANHOLZER
Hailey

If you are a smart shopper and travel to Twin Falls, then by now you’ve been distracted seeing jumpers purposely plummet off the 486-foot-tall Perrine Bridge, then spiral safely to banks of the majestic Snake River. While this towering bridge attracts sportspersons, brimming full of life, hardly able to contain their energies, its low railing design also tempts those of an opposite polarity. Sometimes people in the process of despair, jump off bridges without parachutes.

One of the world’s top suicide magnets is the
Golden Gate Bridge, with no obstruction to prevent death leaps. Since 1937, an estimated 1,500-plus people have ended their lives by jumping off this San Francisco inducement. Thanks in part to an in depth series: “SFGate’s: Lethal Beauty,” officials there are conducting a study for constructing a suicide prevention barrier with funds gathered from government groups and private donors.

As
Idaho’s population increases, the Perrine Bridge is apt to become more of a fatal attraction for the distraught if no barrier is constructed. In the “Lethal Beauty” series, it’s shown that “in the late 1970s, two scientific studies concluded those survivors of suicide attempts from the Golden Gate Bridge do not ‘just go someplace else.’” It would be wise to start a similar feasibility study now for constructing a suicide barrier and/or installing crisis hotline telephones on the bridge ends before more terrible tragedies occur.

Obviously, there is a challenge to redesigning or improving any bridge that will continue allowing BASE-jumpers to utilize it. Still, there are certainly ways to improve protocols of bridge jumping for legitimate sportsmen along with the construction of an improved barrier.

I urge those that are concerned and those with further constructive ideas about this to contact local newspapers and The Idaho Transportation and Health and Welfare departments.


This in turn, led to this thank you note from an Idaho Public affairs specialist:

Dear Mr. Banholzer,
Thank you for your email in concern to suicide prevention measures being taken on the
Perrine Bridge. I have passed your letter onto our District Engineer and other staff. We greatly appreciate you sharing your concern and taking the time to offer solutions to improve the bridge to prevent tragedies. It is always nice to hear from members of the community who are looking out for their fellow motorists, pedestrians, BASE-jumping enthusiasts and those in great despair. We need more voices like yours. Thank you again and feel free to contact us anytime. Have a great day.


-----------------------------------------------
Amy Lierman
Public Affairs Specialist
Idaho Transportation Department
P.O. Box 2A
Shoshone, ID 83352

-----------------------------------------------
886-7828 (office)
316-0897 (cell)
amy.lierman@itd.idaho.gov

Travel Smart. Travel Safe. Dial 511.

During the process of writing about something as daunting as suicide prevention, I discovered that it was actually very cathartic. When I received the heartfelt note posted above, it felt especially rewarding.

Abnormal Psychology

College of Southern Idaho

Professor Nancy Kneeland's class

C

C

Two Troublesome Things

By Jim Banholzer

1.

A. Activating event

Although, arrowhead hunting is one of my favorite hobbies, sometimes I hold trepidation of running into rattlesnakes, while searching for Indian points amongst the sacred Picabo desert sagebrush. I have been stuck at by rattlers four times. Once with the snake biting the crease in my blue jeans at the side of my knee.

B. Beliefs

Upon my return from my first arrowhead discovery there, I ran over Dart Binker’s cherished Labrador retriever in his driveway, killing it. This led me to believe that I was cursed, since I had drunkenly removed the arrowhead from the same grounds where my ancestors committed genocide, thoughtlessly killing multitudes of Native Americans.

Snakes karmatically guard the territory, if I put out bad vibes, they will bite me.

If snakes bite me, I will become extremely sick and possible die.

C. Emotional, Behavior reaction & remedy

Actually, I think that the danger is part of the attraction. For one thing intersecting with rattlers is always an awakening encounter! Ten years ago, a friend and I were riding mountain bikes down there and had a rattler snap lightning-like at both of our bike spokes. Had nothing of the sort happened that day, it would not have been as memorable. Nonetheless, sometimes my imagination takes over and I think of things like what if one bit me, and then I keeled over unconscious, meanwhile crushing my cell phone into a large obsidian rock, so that it became inoperable upon my painful reawakening. Mostly though, I try to send out good vibes to the serpent kingdom, wear thick lumberjack boots, two pairs of pants, avoid leaning my exposed shoulder too close into hills and caves and keep a first aid kit handy. In addition, I try to visualize that if I actually did become snake-bit that I would then need to become a cool cat. Becoming frenzied about the situation, will only make my blood circulate faster, resulting in quicker toxicity in my bloodstream. Therefore, if such an occasion arises, I will need to make a sustained effort to mediate on peaceful cooling thoughts.

Recently I employed a specific ritual, as a remedy to “get past” my bad juju superstition. My friend Tony, who is Native American, hit two perfect bull’s-eyes on a tiny target with his crossbow. This I saw as an occasion to ceremoniously reward him with another arrowhead I had discovered in the same region as the cursed point. The point I gave Tony had the sharpest point of any I have so far discovered. We even joked to be careful, because it looked so fresh that it might still have frog poison dipped on it. Superstition, placebo effect, call it what you may, since rewarding Tony with the “returned” arrowhead, I feel as though my travails and trepidations in Snaky territory, will now shift to the better. I will travel through Picabo Desert with hopes of emanating vibes positive enough that snakes will sense my good intentions. Maybe, I’ll even become friends with one. After all, snakes need a good scruff behind the head and belly rub too, don’t they?

A. Fear of driving over the Perrine Bridge (worse fear of walking over it)

B. The bridge could fall, taking me with it. Ice is not nice. Terrorists might choose to explode it the moment I am traveling over it. (It was heavily guarded in the weeks immediately following 9-11.) A tractor-trailer, Meth head, or someone suffering from a stroke could suddenly veer out of control or not hold enough respect for the dangerous area, resulting in a disastrous crash.

C. Avoid thinking about bridges and tall places. I tried this for a while, but the fear eventually returns. Ultimately, I decided to confront the fear head on by writing about it. This led to this letter published in the Times-News:

Story published at magicvalley.com on Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Last modified on
Monday, November 13, 2006 11:55 PM MST



Perrine BASE jumping invites more suicides

By JIM BANHOLZER
Hailey

If you are a smart shopper and travel to Twin Falls, then by now you’ve been distracted seeing jumpers purposely plummet off the 486-foot-tall Perrine Bridge, then spiral safely to banks of the majestic Snake River. While this towering bridge attracts sportspersons, brimming full of life, hardly able to contain their energies, its low railing design also tempts those of an opposite polarity. Sometimes people in the process of despair, jump off bridges without parachutes.

One of the world’s top suicide magnets is the
Golden Gate Bridge, with no obstruction to prevent death leaps. Since 1937, an estimated 1,500-plus people have ended their lives by jumping off this San Francisco inducement. Thanks in part to an in depth series: “SFGate’s: Lethal Beauty,” officials there are conducting a study for constructing a suicide prevention barrier with funds gathered from government groups and private donors.

As
Idaho’s population increases, the Perrine Bridge is apt to become more of a fatal attraction for the distraught if no barrier is constructed. In the “Lethal Beauty” series, it’s shown that “in the late 1970s, two scientific studies concluded those survivors of suicide attempts from the Golden Gate Bridge do not ‘just go someplace else.’” It would be wise to start a similar feasibility study now for constructing a suicide barrier and/or installing crisis hotline telephones on the bridge ends before more terrible tragedies occur.

Obviously, there is a challenge to redesigning or improving any bridge that will continue allowing BASE-jumpers to utilize it. Still, there are certainly ways to improve protocols of bridge jumping for legitimate sportsmen along with the construction of an improved barrier.

I urge those that are concerned and those with further constructive ideas about this to contact local newspapers and The Idaho Transportation and Health and Welfare departments.


This in turn, led to this thank you note from an Idaho Public affairs specialist:

Dear Mr. Banholzer,
Thank you for your email in concern to suicide prevention measures being taken on the
Perrine Bridge. I have passed your letter onto our District Engineer and other staff. We greatly appreciate you sharing your concern and taking the time to offer solutions to improve the bridge to prevent tragedies. It is always nice to hear from members of the community who are looking out for their fellow motorists, pedestrians, BASE-jumping enthusiasts and those in great despair. We need more voices like yours. Thank you again and feel free to contact us anytime. Have a great day.


-----------------------------------------------
Amy Lierman
Public Affairs Specialist
Idaho Transportation Department
P.O. Box 2A
Shoshone, ID 83352
-----------------------------------------------
886-7828 (office)
316-0897 (cell)
amy.lierman@itd.idaho.gov

Travel Smart. Travel Safe. Dial 511.

During the process of writing about something as daunting as suicide prevention, I discovered that it was actually very cathartic. When I received the heartfelt note posted above, it felt especially rewarding.



I recently returned from Island Park, Idaho in the eastern part of the state –adjacent to Yellowstone.

I was on a quest for some interesting stories about hunting. And I found some:


The first thing evident when we pulled into the summer cabin area, were six game & fish officer trucks, parked together at the entrance. Turns out that a hunter and Grizzly bear got into a confrontation with each other, over an elk that the hunter was dressing. The hunter clipped the bear with his pistol, so now there was a wounded grizzly wandering somewhere around the cabin area. Not a good place to take your dog for a walk! There was some concern that hunting would be shut down for the area, but we believe that they caught that bear the same day.


Recently the area drew national news with a story superbly entitled “Critics hate Idaho hunting ranch’s guts


Evidently, a private elk ranching operation has been dumping (apparently legally) gut piles from their expended stock, only slightly buried outside their fence line. There has been much speculation that this is what is attracting more Grizzlies than normal to this area adjacent to Yellowstone.


My friend drew a moose tag. However, in the 5 days up there, we encountered very few moose in our travels. We speculate that the known Grizzly presence in the area is making the prey animals more skittish than normal. Same thing happened right after wolves were reintroduced en masse. Not that any of this is bad, but all the rational animals appear to be more on edge.


I probably looked out of place, walking around with the hunters, while donning my Sun Valley threads and acting with non hunting-fever mannerisms. At least, I hope that a few folks got a good chuckle. Each night the grizzled hunters in our camp would recount their wild safari stories from afar. And each morning, I would scribble them down as fast as I could to remember them. We actually saw a grizzly bear one evening, munching away at grass and grubs, seemingly unconcerned about us peering down from a mere eighty feet, above in our truck. Anyhow, I have more stories, but in all the rush to get out of there, I left my other computer at the cabin, with the scribblings and with my abnormal psyche class homework. Wonder if the instructor will believe me, if I tell her that I was spooked by a Griz -causing me to leave the laptop atop the woodpile?

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Osama skating by in Central Park?


Re:


Yes Elbert, and that famous living off the land mountain man Claude Dallas -who people sometimes forget is now free - was captured in front of a Quickie Mart. Would not that be ironic if Bin Laden was nabbed while watching the wheels go by in Central Park? Homeland Security sharpen up your ice skate skills! By the way, NYC does have an elaborate underground system. Probably more tunnels and caves than Afghanistan & Pakistan combined.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Grinning back at Barrett





By Jim Banholzer





I’m the guy at the bottom center here -with the dark suit and white turtleneck.


Although the quality of this second-generation photo has faded, I expect it will still help augment this story.


~ ~ ~


In the Sixties, our family lived in Arlington Forest. I attended Barrett Elementary from 1965 -69, until we moved to Fairfax. I still have fond memories of Barrett and the surrounding neighborhood. I recollect learning how to read on that dazzling first day of gradeschool - how it all started flowing through me in a miraculous manner. Barrett started a cutting-edge NASA program for us children in 1967 or ’68. You can see by the class photo that we were called ‘Team 3’, as we were no longer termed with ‘grades’. Students were permitted to work at their own comfortable paces and this program worked well. I remember excelling with math, science and creative writing. It was an exciting time; the Apollo space program had just begun, and we were aiming for the moon.


I see from Barrett’s website that the school is once again connected with a NASA program.



A few years back I called my brother on one of the anniversaries of the first moon landing, as we had watched it together in Arlington Forest. Our recollections of that defining day at 140 N. Columbus St., I eventually spun into a story / opinion piece, which ran in the local (Idaho) newspaper and then again on my personal weblog:


http://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/2007/07/one-giant-leap-for-humankind-or.html


I disremember if it was 1st or 2nd grade; but at one point, there were two sisters at Barrett who both were instructors. Incredibly, the taller sister’s name was Mrs. Tall and the shorter sister was Mrs. Lowe! We kids got a good giggle out of this, since it struck us as very Lewis-Carrollian. Back then, Tetherball was quite popular as was jungle gym and playing kickball with red rubber balls. Some of us children would chant the popular-at-the-time Red Rubber Ball song by The Cyrkle as we played in our splendid replete. http://www.loti.com/sixties_music/the_cyrkle.htm Twice we had running races, which encircled the whole school. The teacher said that whoever won the race would get their name pasted into Barrett’s permanent archives. I wonder if that truly was the case.


One evening after school at Barrett, we were playing some baseball. The team I was on was called the Evening Optimist. I hit a hardball blooper into far right-center field and tried sprinting for a triple. After rounding second and trying to slide into third, I collided hard with the shortstop receiving the relay. I was knocked unconscious and both teams rushed over to help revive me. I’ll never forget dad standing there shaking me with encouragement, saying, “Son, you’ve just gotten the wind knocked out of you!” The only thing my young mind could fathom was, “If that’s only getting the wind knocked out of you, then what does really getting hurt feel like?”


The one week we didn’t have gym class in my four years at Barrett, was when the gym teacher set up a black and white TV on one of those roll-around stands in the cafeteria to let us watch the World Series played between Detroit and St. Louis. Sometimes for PTA meetings, we kids would perform acrobatic acts, including climbing ropes to the tippy-top ceiling of the gym as fast as we could to impress the parents with our super strength. It seems rather dangerous now, looking back. Nonetheless, I’m glad that Barrett did have a rigorous athletic program. Now I hear that children at many schools have limited recesses. That to me seems deleterious to children’s developmental skills. I hope that this is not the case at Barrett today.


Another sunny day, a folk singer came into school to entertain us. All of the classes sat transfixed by the quality of his songs in the cafeteria, which doubled as an auditorium. I thought perhaps the singer was Pete Seeger and wondered if anyone else out there remembered the captivating folksinger from that day. I suppose I could send Mr. Seeger an inquiry, since he is still strumming out songs of peace, love and understanding, although he probably played at such venues on innumerable occasions.


Barrett also had a stamp-collecting club. Two kind elderly gentlemen came in biweekly and told us kids about everything we might want to know about the meaning of stamps. Then they would give us a bunch of old stamps for us to happily press into our scrapbooks.


Recently my sister and I started corresponding about these days of yore in Arlington Forest. This led me to write another story about that area, which the Arlington Forester recently published in their great community newsletter


When we moved from Arlington Forest to Fairfax, My mom told me decades later that they feared that the ambiance of the place might change for the worse after the Washington D.C. riots immediately following Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s April 1968 assassination. That however did not stop my sports-enthusiastic father from bringing me to the Washington Senators opening day game mere days after the tragedy.


Here is a box score from that game:


http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/WS2/WS2196804100.shtml


Another mentionable item here is that the attendance for this game was 32,063. This was one of the few opening days that this stadium, which came to be known as RFK, was not filled to capacity.


After we moved to Fairfax, I attended Oak View Elementary. Last year, I wrote another story from those days called “Solid Oak View Memories” and recommend anyone interested in reading about those days access that story via either of these links:


http://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/2006/11/january-13-2006-solid-oak-view-memories.html


http://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/2007/06/tim-quietly-conquers-idaho-reminisces.html


The Solid Oak View story I sent to the principal of Oak View, after seeing that some other alumni had contributed letters to their website. They posted it online for a few months, until they redesigned their sites.


Looking back at it now, we grew up in a turbulent but also an enlightened time. As one of Barrett’s ancient alumni, I cherish those reminiscent days and am appreciative for the great jump-start the progressive instructors gave me for a long and remarkable life.
































Slug:

Initials: JB

Headline: Leave no Rolling Stone unturned

It’s remarkable that Rolling Stone magazine founder Jann Wenner is moving his award-winning river-rock stilted manor house; out of the Broadford Rd. floodplain area, and up to his new spread, in the Hyndman Creek drainage (out East Fork). The Broadford house lies at the end of the same driveway, where a decade ago two local men, while excavating it with a skip-loader, found 96 ancient coins worth somewhere between $20,000 and a million bucks –depending on who you talk to.

This tale full of intrigue grew into a parable of biblical proportions, with money souring friendships, attorneys profiting highly, and one of the most powerful businessmen in the country ultimately receiving the buried treasure discovered in his topsoil. Even the New Yorker magazine, featured a piece of writing about it.

It’s easy to imagine workers on the current project, taking extra care to examine each rock, unearthed by the equipment –perhaps shoveling more robustly then usual, while wondering if a Minnie-Moore miner from the pre-Geocache era, stashed away second or third jars, safe from the banker’s grubby hands –in that decade before the Great Depression hit hard.

It would also be interesting to hear if this past decade has been enough time to mend the impasse in Mr. Anderson’s & Mr. Corliss’s once strong friendship, and if in fact they now can now share laughs together over this Huck Finn-like fable from bygone days, from which they were the lead rascals. Or does reopening this earthly wound in the hundred year floodplain, spout forth from their eyes another 96 tears, which irrigates barren ground under Poverty Flats gravel stones, when contemplation of their gone astray coins is reassessed?

These tarnished coins are now an additional ten years older, which gives them even more value. Perhaps they will soon vibrate in a jar, in a kitchen window with the most picturesque view of the Pioneer Mountains, waiting to reveal their next priceless lesson.

Reference links:

JUST_ANOTHER_STORY_OF_FOUND_GOLD

The Slow Death of Treasure Trove