Mick's Memories

One of the stories that Kirsten used to tell me fairly often was of the spring break that she spent hiking in Zion National Park in Utah. As with most of her stories, I wish I could remember this better. I only remember the story she told of the journey back, and that only in parts. I think that she was living in a hippie house outside of Missoula at the time, that she called Toura (?) House. One spring break, a bunch of folks set out for Zion in an old station wagon. It was heavily loaded down with people, dogs, and their luggage. I can't remember any of the other people involved, except that one guy had the unlikely name of Peachcraft. She had a great time hiking in Zion, as I can well imagine. That part of Utah is among the most beautiful parts of the world. I myself spend a summer in Natural Bridges National Monument, one of the highlights of my life. On the way back to Montana, a very long drive, they passed a couple of hitch-hikers. They were heavy laden already, so could not...

I graduated from Milnerton High School in 1986, and had a quite satisfying celebration at the beach. I first bought a 12-pack of beer then boarded the Melkbosstrand bus up the coast. The beer of choice at that time would probably have been either Castle or Carling. Anyway, I got off at a stop somewhere along the coast road, then walked until I was alone on the beach, something easier to do in those days. It was a hot afternoon, and the beer very enjoyable. I kept it cold by burying it in the sand, just a little ways into the water. I then proceeded to relax, contemplate my life, and drink beer. Doesn't get much better. At about my fourth beer, a dog approached me. I petted it a little, but it wasn't interested in scratches behind the ear. It seemed to want to tell me something. Actually, it was kind of like a stereotypical "dog wants me to follow him" scene in a movie. The dog would come close to me, bump me with his head or suchlike, then trot off down the beach and ...

The stories people tell are real history, they shouldn't be forgotten. But people forget and move on. Or die and are forgotten. My late wife Kirsten used to tell many stories, tell them almost non-stop. I heard some of them many times, until I grew tired of them. Now that she is gone I would do almost anything to hear her tell those stories again. You'd think that after hearing them so many times, that I would remember them almost verbatim. But I don't. Some I've forgotten completely, and some are very hazy. Those stories are gone forever, and that should not be. It saddens me. I'll tell some of Kirsten's stories in this blog, those I can remember, and in that way preserve at least some of them. Mostly I'll put my own stories here. Some will be long and meandering. Some will be short and pointless, just a couple sentences. Maybe my remaining friends will chuckle at some of them. But mainly I'm putting them down in the hope that they will live on, somehow...