Mitchell Way
I knew a man named Bud. He was one of my scout masters. Bud was average height and build. He had little hair left on his head and what he did have, he combed over his bald scalp. Bud also had a glass eye. How he lost his eye, I do not remember, but some nights as we sat around the campfire, he would pop it into his hand just to gross us boys out.
My sister Tricia recently brought me a manila envelope which she had been keeping in storage. The envelope was stuffed with memories of my dad, Paul Phillip Mitchell. I poured the contents out onto the floor. Included in the pile were newspaper clippings of his life and his important documents from WW2.
Mr. Alan Watts was an English teacher at Bellingham High School during the 70s. He was a timid and fun-loving man who was not at all like the coach-teachers who would sharpen axes on their grinding wheels and thump their chests during class. The requirements for Mr. Watts’ Class included your pencil, a notebook, the English book, and a tetanus shot.
Exodus 14 and 15
The year is approximately 1300 BC. Moses and his brother Aaron have just led the Hebrew people away from captivity in Egypt. Pharaoh, realizing his mistake in letting the people go, sends his army on chariots to bring the Israelites back.
Sitting in the “Lab for Creative Ideas,” I had just hung up the phone after talking to my Patent attorney, Butch Cassidy whom like his historical namesake was trying to rob me blind. Apparently, ideas #407, the stick gum dispenser, and #408, the “Sleepy Sling” baby carrier had proven to be unpatentable in his findings during patent searches.
Thanksgiving 1965, my mom and my cousin Gae were alone in Gae’s kitchen. The buzzer on her counter sounded and Gae rushed to the oven door, looked through the glass window and announced, “The turkey looks done. Yell down the stairs and tell everyone to come up to the table.”
Elwood K. Wayson was a man of the woods. He was a hunter, trapper, and fisherman. He was a spar tree setter for logging camps and later a lineman for the local power company. Elwood lived in a small house behind mine when I was growing up. Since I had no living grandfather, I adopted him to be mine.
I was an eleven-year-old in sixth grade All City band. It was two hours each Saturday that the family would not have to listen to me practice my trombone. There is only so much a parent can do to encourage a child. After that, they play a game called, “Hide the Slide.”
You may have heard the familiar quote from E.A. Bucchianeri stating, “Art is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone will have their own interpretation.” It seems to be fairly popular; everyone around the lodge is repeating it.
Author’s note: In April of 2005 I had the opportunity to perform this song for Ralph Pauley at the Alumni Band’s spring concert (video is below). I was helped with the talents of Alumni Band members and the BHS Swing Choir. In August of 2005 he passed away. It was an honor to play for the Music Man.
I knew a man who had his own band, the Bellingham High School Red Raider Band. The first time I met him I was the young age of ten. He marched his whole band to the far side of town, and he showed my small school how big band should sound. He showed off each instrument and he challenged the children to play. The thing that I saw in the eyes of his band when he raised his baton and he tapped on his stand was a sense of respect and admiration for the man and I knew . . . it was an honor to play for the Music Man. They marched straight and tall for the Music Man. They gave it their all for the Music Man was their mentor, their teacher, their friend.
It was a time in life that every boy either looked forward to or shuddered to think he must be a part of. It was a freshman class in high school that every boy had to participate in to graduate. It was a required class and girls were not allowed. They called it Boys’ Health and, Sex Ed.
2009-2020
My granddog, Milton Barry and I walked through the tall grass to a hilly knoll overlooking the ocean. He wasn’t walking as fast in his old age, but he didn’t mind the walk together. As the afternoon sun was setting, we sat together and I laid my hand on his back.
“Be careful. Don’t break it!” he growled.
“The two pieces of pipe aren’t lining up,” I said. “If I put anymore strain on this PVC elbow, I think it’s going to break.”
Gerald Metzger and I were installing new meters in the water association shutoff boxes. Gerald had for many years been the association mechanic. His dad helped found our association and it was officially known as the first registered water association in the United States. As I lay on the ground over the meter box, Gerald stood over me barking orders while staring into the hole.
Elizabeth Vangelder was born in 1929 in the city of Bellingham Washington. She was born with a Nuchal Cord, where the umbilical cord is wrapped around the neck one or more times. As a result, she was born with brain damage and cerebral palsy which led to intellectual disabilities and developmental delays. Although she could walk as a child, in her later years she was confined to a wheelchair bed, her back twisted, her wrists atrophied, unable to straighten, unable to eat, dress or use the bathroom without the help of an aide. Every day she would be parked on the front porch of Needhams Rest home alone to watch the world go by. Though people would walk up and say hello, they would quickly leave when they realized that though she was smart, due to the cerebral palsy she could not talk in a language they could understand.
I had a friend named Angie who lived not far from Needhams. Angie was 18. Every Sunday she would walk from her home in the morning to her church to teach Sunday School. The route passed the front porch of Needhams. One day as she passed, she noticed the wheelchair bed, a woman’s face and eyes that were following her. God asked her to stop.