Read What I Write, Not What You Think I Write

I caught crabs while in Washington. (Oh stop that!) We went out to the Straits of Juan De Fuca in a small boat that I heartily wished was a much larger boat. I didn't have a license to catch crabs. My shipmates actually caught the crabs. About a dozen or so nearly eight pounds each. And one guy reeled in a 30-pound King salmon.

For those of you who have never tried salmon, the best way to fix them is to slather the inside with mayonnaise (having cleaned the fish first) and place slices of two lemons inside as well. Some sea salt and pepper works nicely too. Then wrap the salmon in tin foil and put it on the barbie. Turn the package over once. No Worries, Mate!

About 15 minutes (depending on the size of the fish) at maybe 325 degrees will produce the most succulent salmon supper you ever tasted. Serve with asparagus spears and garnish with parsley, paprika and lemon wedges.

But that's not my main topic this week. I want to talk to you about the changing times. We in Northeastern Montana live a life that is insulated and isolated from the “other” America. We live in the part that is mostly still America as us older folks remember. Before political correctness, hate crimes, being gay, no child left behind, mandatory seat belts, AIDS, illegal immigration, cars that talk to you and park all by theyselves, cell phones, 911, iPods, iPads, comfort pads, .com, lift and separate bras and tubeless radial tires.

I visited one of my old high schools while in Washington. Back in the day there were maybe 125 kids in the sophomore class of 1960. The total minority student body, all classes, was less than 20 in 1958. We rated 8 of 10 in the Good School rating.

Today my old school is 65 percent Hispanic. Drugs and gangs are prevalent on the campus which, BTW, has increased to 1,884 students (2014 numbers). They rate only 5 of 10 on the GS rating today.

I drove over to the west side, across the Skagit River, which was, in my day, the “poor white neighborhood.” But the houses and yards in the 50s and 60s were nicely maintained. There weren't a bunch of cars of all descriptions in all stages of disrepair on the streets. Today it's like what those in Los Angeles would call a barrio. The white population has either died off and not been replaced or have moved up river to Concrete, Sedro Woolley or Marblemount, towns populated by loggers and other assorted rednecks!

Times change. I'm not saying it's bad. The Mexican population has been an integral part of the Skagit Valley since the first white or Japanese farmer decided he would rather pay someone else to do his stoop work. The first Mexicans to inhabit the Skagit Valley were mostly hard-working industrious folks who endured horrid living conditions while picking strawberries, beans, tulip bulbs and many more stoop-work crops while earning extremely poor wages.

But just like with the whites, the Mexican dinosaurs die off to be replaced by the younger generation whose ideas, books, technology, movies and TV, school, social interactions, language and dress are all vastly different from what their parents had. Now, hold on there; I'm just saying it's all . . . well . . . different. Just as Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey were replaced by the Beatles and Elvis, dial phones replaced by touch-tone, replaced by cell phones, replaced by smart phones.

I've been accused of being a racist, and I must admit I do watch NASCAR on occasion. There are those who have called me a curmudgeon, some have called me a gator (or was that a gayhater?). I'm none of the above. What I am is observant. When I travel I observe, when I watch TV or see a movie (two of the biggest brain-washing machines ever invented) I watch closely and now I tell you about what I see.

I think it was Albert Einstein who wrote “I fear the day that technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots.”

Some will agree with my observations, some will not. This proves we still have a teaspoon of freedom of speech left in America. Someone asked my managing editor, “Why do you let him write the stuff he writes?” I have three words for that flamin' liberal.

First Amendment!

"Regarding H. Pippin"

I spent a wonderful week mirthfully trying to figure out just what it was that Heidi Pippin was so P.O.'d about. (Letter to The Editor, Glasgow Courier 8/5/15.) I don't recall using the word hate towards any race, ethnicity or person in any of my columns in the past six years. I have no opinion about most of the stuff I write about. I merely write about things I see, my observations, my premonitions and predictions.

I have never voiced an opinion on the subject of the mixing of the races. Here's why.

My fourth wife was half Portuguese and the other half Jehovah’s Witness. My brother married a lady of Mexican heritage who was born and raised in America. One of my sisters' took the last name of De La Fuente having succumbed to the romantic charms of a Mexican guy.

I took some of my chef training at the Anchorage Westward in Alaska back in the early 70s. I was the only one of the cooks who could speak almost perfect English. The executive chef was Dieter Dopplefeld (Germany), the sous chef was Ricardo Estevan (Spain). The pastry guy was from the Netherlands and there was a guy from Argentina. They'd all gather in a corner talking their universal chef language while pointing at me over at the steam table making a batch of hollandaise sauce.

So, Mrs. Pippin, don't tell me I know nothing about race or discrimination. I've been there . . . done that. Have you? I know nothing about discrimination??? Try being a white guy in a prison for three years, where the population was predominantly black and Hispanic.

Oh, and BTW, I wasn't “cowering in the corner” [in the ER] as you so delicately put it. (See above mentioned LTE.) Actually I was under the desk admiring the nurse's fine turned ankles. Or maybe it was her calves that turned me on. I don't recall.

You wrote there is too much HATE in my stories and added there was too much hate in the world or words to that effect. I may be wrong but I felt a little twinge of the hate that you seem to abhor, coming through your letter. But what more can I expect from someone whose role model and mentor seems to be Horace Sense. Yikes!!

There's so much more that I would like to say but it seems you, Horace and a few others read into what I write things that you THINK I mean. You see racism and bigotry where there is simply observation. Read what I write . . . not what you think I write.

Aw hell!! I'll keep writin'. You keep readin'.

That's it for now folks. Thanks for listening.