Originally posted by Rose Livingstone
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Arbitrary Reflections
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I wish there was a way, it seems the Fennship has sailed and the chase will go down as a scam. I guess it is hard to split up an arrowhead. Maybe that Clovis collection will now be called the Fenn Cash, I mean the Olds cash. what a legacy 30 years of working planning and playing the chase, and it was all about fishing
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I can feel the empathy for my fellow man with every new post on Thor. The love of money, envy and lust can't make you into something you were not already. When the test came, justification was found. When the chance came, it was turned down.
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Originally posted by Knowledge View PostI can feel the empathy for my fellow man with every new post on Thor. The love of money, envy and lust can't make you into something you were not already. When the test came, justification was found. When the chance came, it was turned down.
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Words.....
"In contrast, for me it’s not so much the poet as it is the words. There are a few poems located somewhere in the back of my memory where I can pull them out on occasion, mostly for my own enjoyment. Much of the time I don’t remember who wrote the words because I am not cultured enough to care, if the truth were known. An exception is Invictus by Henley, as you observed.
There is poetry for all occasions and sometimes I startle even myself with words that I can remember. As we all know, words can both sooth and alarm your pulse, and that’s what makes it so interesting.f"
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Originally posted by Rose Livingstone View Post
Yeah, I guess it's game over, zero hope, for all have failed and there is no recourse. Guess mass koolaid is the solution, huh?
Self. Don't leave home without it.
Be safe
Tim
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Originally posted by Knowledge View PostI wish there was a way, it seems the Fennship has sailed and the chase will go down as a scam. I guess it is hard to split up an arrowhead. Maybe that Clovis collection will now be called the Fenn Cash, I mean the Olds cash. what a legacy 30 years of working planning and playing the chase, and it was all about fishing
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Originally posted by DanNunCheck out George Parker’s, aka “Butch Cassidy’s” childhood home! I just visited and I wish I could’ve been a part of those thrill seeking days! It was so cool!
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My family has one of those, it’s my grandfather’s now, but he grew up in there with a slew of brothers and sisters (many lost to flu very young) but we visit occasionally, not as often as I’d like. Anyway, from what I remember as a kid it was absolute paradise. Then they started stripping the mountain away. The creek behind the cabin became polluted, and the hole area looked washed up.
We had a nice view of the landing strip, right on the fold of that hill. It looked tough on occasion, but most of the pilots flying in there knew how to maneuver through the trees and creases. Then there was this one time, a plane came puttering in late one evening, hopping around like it was playing hopscotch in the sky.
Took a pass, and I’m guessing the pilot wasn’t sure of the angle, so they took a new route and came back around from the North.
I always wondered if they made that landing or not across the fold. I feel like there was a sign in the smoke trail that said they were just fine."Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great."
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I lived here as a small boy, a place rich in history. If I had found the chest, it would have been mine. I still remember finding an arrowhead at age four. The babysitter took it and I never saw it again.I told Forrest, that is the difference when your dad is there or far away from your life. What set a lifetime of memories for him, was a passing thought in my young life. The house was a Post office, the garage a store and our barn a livery. There was also a French trappers cabin right on the lake. In the fall, before my time, the Native Americans would camp between the lakes along rt 182 and tap the sugar maples and trade with the French. Dillinger got stuck in the mud, next to the house, after a shoot out in the next town. He was making his way to Minnesota. He paid the farmer one hundred bucks to get him out with his horses. Forrest would have told him, watch out for the mud. I got to tell Forrest some history of the area before he passed. I think, I hope, he enjoyed it. I told him it is strange, the way there are certain places that funnel history to them. Well God created the funnel, where time after time man had to make his way between the lakes in Springstead WI. Some lost arrowheads, others packed Tommy guns. I always wondered if they were hiding the money that was never found, when they got stuck in the mud that night. That is one treasure hunt I will never make, it is now too far to walk.
https://www.trulia.com/p/wi/park-fal...0#lil-mediaTab
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