Dawson Springs

Sometimes people put significance on the first memory a person can recall in their life. I can't say this is my first memory, but it is an early memory and unquestionably has had the most impact on me from my early childhood.

In the Summer of 1948 when I was 5 years old I went to stay with my paternal Great Grandfather—and my namesake-- and Great grandmother Timothy Arthur and Frankie Jones in Dawson Springs, Kentucky. It was the end of World War II and my mother, a daughter of a 1^st generation immigrant from Lithuania and my father, a man of Irish heritage, arrived in Dawson Springs just long enough to drop me off for the summer. I didn’t know exactly why mom and dad dropped me off at Great Grandpa’s house. I had never remembered seeing these relatives before in my life.

Being a War baby, I was shuffled between relatives, neighbors, and friends’ houses my first five years so that my mother could work as a factory turret lathe operator in the Chicago area making parts for tanks to support us while my father served in the wartime Merchant Marines. War times were hard enough for a young boy to understand, but now was doubly perplexing. Dad had a job, mom was working in retail and the country’s economy was just beginning the recovery from the war. This new predicament certainly didn't foster any feelings of importance and of being wanted—more like abandonment, actually. Why didn't they want me around? Had I done something wrong?

Dawson Springs, Kentucky was a far cry from Chicago! I was dropped off at the doorstep of a small white house. The little wood house with peeling white painted siding perched up on cinder blocks, high enough for little inquisitive five year old boys to crawl underneath, no problem. However, this particular five year old was not inclined to do this too often because I detested the bugs and spider webs that called it their domain. A small hand pump stationed next to the kitchen sink was the only form of plumbing in the house. The ‘bathroom’ was a 2-seater outhouse located 50 paces out back from the little house. Meals were cooked on an old coal-burning stove. Simple wood floors that were bleached parchment white from diligent scrubbing decked the house and a small porch with two cane bottom chairs graced the front door that was always open to anyone who came by. Even for 1948, the living conditions were rustic and humble. Were they a thrifty people? Downright poor would be more accurate! Poor they may have been, but dirty they were not! My Great Grandmother Frankie kept the little place tidy and spotless as if it were the Whitehouse.

My Great Grandfather,Tim Jones I., had been a coal miner most of his working life prior to retirement. His mother had come to America from Ireland as a single mother and had worked most of her life on the King Ranch in Texas. Tim was a lean, wiry guy of tall stature. Even in retirement, he was a hard-working man, raising hogs and chickens and planting crops, well into his 70’s and beyond. He had a mule named Mike. Yep, Mike the mule! He harnessed Mike the Mule to plow the field out back where he raised corn. He did his own slaughtering and hung the hog carcasses in a smoke room out back to cure. Every day or two Great Grandpa Jones walked a wheelbarrow up the hill a mile or so to the coal mine, filled it up with coal, and wheeled it home to use in the cook stove.

Great Grandpa Jones was a good man, not harsh or abrasive, but stern. He didn’t take any guff from a 5 year old upstart, I can tell you firsthand. One time he chased me up a tree after discovering I had done something mischievous. I sat on a tree limb relishing my triumph at outwitting him and escaping the punishment. But Great Grandpa, I'm afraid, got the last laugh as he stood, switch in hand, just underneath the tree and painted the more realistic picture for me: “You might as well come down, boy. I can wait a lot longer'n you can”.

One day a bunch of people came over to the little white house. Great Grandpa put ice and salt into a wooden bucket as I looked on, enthralled. Then he put another container with a handle into the first. All the kids took turns cranking the handle. After every child had a turn, Great Grandpa took the top off and everyone had a share of the most delicious ice cream I have ever tasted!

Great Grandma Frankie Jones was hardworking as well. She awoke before the first glimmer of dawn each morning and baked biscuits for her husband's breakfast. In addition to being industrious, she was also a woman of faith. Every Sunday she walked up a dusty dirt road to a little white steeple-topped church to worship. While I was staying with them, she took me along as well. One typical hot Kentucky summer Sunday I watched my great grandmother fanning herself through the church service with her hand-held paper fan on a stick, and I remember asking myself, “What are we doing here?”.

That was the beginning of the thread of God’s working in my life. That simple question and the image of Great Grandma Frankie sitting there in the sweltering heat became the first of many such spiritual mile post markers in my life before I came to know God, the Father as my savior. Who knows what strikes each person as significant? For each of us it is different, but for me seeing my great grandmother sitting there in the stifling heat told me what she was doing was important enough to to her to endure the heat for some reason and I wanted to understand that reason.

Over the decades, I have come to also realize that it was the prayers of this faithful relative that stood out as beacons for my soul. I am forever indebted to Great Grandma Frankie and others who laid the groundwork for my entering the Kingdom of Light, even when what they saw in the natural was anything but encouraging as I walked through some black decades and should have been dead many times over.

“The effectual and fervent prayer of a righteous man [woman] avails much” James 5:16 NKJV

Copyright©2007 Timothy and Kimberly Jones

The Vacation

The Vacation

Typically vacations are an opportunity to get a change from the ordinary, a time to relax, a time to change the scenery and change the thought processes. Most vacations achieve these simple, but needed goals. This year our vacation reached most of those goals in a real and meaningful way. But the one that is most often sought after was greatly lacking. There is no way that there was any relaxation.
It started with a basic assumption that the engineers and city would complete the short plat in their stated time frame. I had figured that we would sell two lots and be in good financial condition to take an extended vacation. Plan A. Buy an RV and tour the USA, from Washington State to NY to Florida. I have an uncle in Florida that I haven't seen in over forty years. It became apparent that the project was going to be over time. The engineers missed their contracted completion date by over a month. And what can I say about the City? Mama always said, "If you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all. So we went to plan B.
Plan B still included a RV trip, but for only ten days. We put in an Accelerate conference http://www.accelerateyouthconference.com/ for Gaby and a Drama workshop. Also Veronica wanted to attend Jesus camp so she could go dirt boarding and kiss Bucky the stuffed deer. But I still needed an RV. We all went shopping and looked at several used ones. We found one that everyone liked. It was 29' class C. The girls liked the bunk over the cab and Kimberly and I liked the separate bedroom with a "queen sized" bed. It had many features including self contained generator and automatic leveling jacks. Of course we would bring along a DVR satellite receiver. What else could we want? Just after I spoke for the RV and on the way home I got this overwhelming feeling that this thing was going to cost a lot of money and that I should not have bought it. Was it buyers remorse or the Holy Spirit warning me? Oh well, we'll just take a short trip and sell it on returning . How much could the repairs cost any way. What is the worst that could happen? An engine could blow, a tire might need to be replaced. Little did I know the truth!
One the way home from purchasing the rig in Granite falls, about eight miles out, with Vronnie, my ten year old daughter, riding shotgun, we heard a loud bang followed by a thump, thump, thump. When I pulled over to the side of the freeway, I discovered that a tire had shed its tread causing damage to an outside storage compartment. So we limped to a tire shop. Kimberly, who was driving the Caravan stopped and gave us ride home. To prepare for the vacation, we took a weekend trip to The coast and Oregon. We made a list of things that were to be needed, like portable bar-be-que and a bunch of other stuff. Plans for the Vacation were now made. we decided to anchor two dates and improvise the rest. We made reservations in Riggins, Idaho for two nights and one all day rafting trip with steak dinner after. We also bought tickets for "Taming of the Shrew" in Ashland Oregon. The rest we would wing it. If we didn't find a RV park we could always go to Wal-Mart and stay on their lot.
July 5th came and we were ready to Go! We checked out list, all was in order. At about 11 AM we departed. It wasn't long before the events of record started happening. Just west of Ellensberg, about two hours into The Vacation a bump and rough ride started. We went to Les Schawb in Ellensberg. They found that another tire had shredded. They proceeded to try to sell me four new tires for the rear. This made no sense to me since I had just replaced one with a brand new tire. Also they were having them delivered from another store and could not be put on until tomorrow morning. Not understanding how this could be in my best interest, I tried to gain understanding of the issue. In the process, I quit talking to the salesman and talked to someone who claimed to be a manager. He looked way to dirty to be The Manager. Anyway, at he least he looked at the door tag .to see what the required tires would be rated. 8 ply was what he found, not the 10 ply that the salesman wanted to sell. When the manager looked he found that they had plenty of 8 ply in stock. He installed two new 8 ply. My new bill was one forth of the proposed bill from the first guy. Now I understood that the salesman's bottom line was more important than his customers need. The Les null Tire company doesn't seem to be the same that it was in 1969 when I first did business with them. Maybe it has changed since the old guy has passed on. Sad.
So "onward we pushed like true Queensland Rovers". But it wasn't too much further before another event occurred! From Ellensberg to Vantage is about twenty miles. We went to Vantage and checked out an RV camp, we pushed on. Just out of Vantage, Gaby heard a funny sound. I stopped and checked under the hood, but didn't see anything. So, I started driving. I noticed that the battery voltmeter was low. The engine temperature was OK. So, I pushed on. "We'll rant and we'll roar like true Queensland Rover. We'll rant and we'll roar as onward we push." I stopped at a closed service station in Royal City, about 14 miles from Vantage. The alternator belt was missing. null, maybe the process of its disappearance caused the noise that Gaby heard?
Thinking that we can a long way on just the battery in the daylight we pushed onward. The next town was Othello, about another 24 miles. Once we hit Othello, I asked directions to a auto repair. I was told how to get to a Les null, but couldn't find it. But we did find an Auto Zone on the opposite side of a WalMart parking lot. We parked. I went in and bought a battery charger. We turned on the RVs AC Generator, plugged the battery charger in and hooked up to the battery. We let the battery charge and began to fix something to eat. Soon a stranger came by and asked if we needed help. He made a phone call. A friend came to look at it in about five minutes. He couldn't do anything for us, all the parts places were closed. A little while later someone else came by. Mike was his name. He looked at it, looked under the RV. He left, but said that we would see him tomorrow morning at 7:45. It was now getting late.
In the morning, Kimberly and I did a little shopping in Wal-Mart. As we came out there was Mike pulling up a few minutes before 7:45. He had told us about fixing RV's for a living at sometime in his past. Then he and I got in his truck and went to the NAPA store, since the Auto Zone didn't open til 9:00. He replaced the missing belt and the other one , too. The fan belt was weather checked pretty bad. About 9AM we pulled out feeling that we had our problems fixed. Little did we know!

We continued on our way, heading towards Riggins. Idaho has these brown signs along their highways that tell of major and minor historical events and old Indian lore. We stopped at many of them. Some I would read, some Kimberly, but the best reading was done by Gaby. (Because she is THE BEST reader ever, seeing as she's going to be a HUGE Broadway star someday. The word 'HUGE' not being physically) At one point we saw a memorial of a battle of the Nez Perce wars. The names of the Us Calvary that were killed in action were listed, but none of the Nez Perce.

We continued on our way, heading towards Riggins. Idaho has these brown signs along their highways that tell of major and minor historical events and old Indian lore. We stopped at many of them. Some I would read, some Kimberly, but the best reading was done by Gaby. (Because she is THE BEST reader ever, seeing as she's going to be a HUGE Broadway star someday. The word 'HUGE' not being physically) shortly, we came to a sign to that said, "RockShelter, 7 miles next right." So off we went. It was a paved, twisty, and downhill ride. I was going slowly because of the heat and the nature of the road. For miles it seemed that no one lived on this road. At about five miles down Graves Rd, as it was called, Gaby shrieked that a bee was in the cab. Just at that point there was a pull out. So I pulled off the road to look for the bee. I had a friend once that was bread truck driver. A bee had gotten into his truck while he was driving. He had continued to drive and chase the bee out. He only succeeded in driving off the road and rolling his truck on its side.
When I stopped I could smell the cooking brake pads. I have been told that meant that the brakes were over 1000 degrees. This was much too hot for safety. I looked at the under side and saw flames where the brake lines joined the hub. It was easy to put the fire out. We thanked God for the bee that warned us. It was still miles to the bottom of the canyon, and a run away 29' RV would not be fun! We waited for quite awhile, until the brakes cooled. When we continued, we soon came to the Rockshelter. We were soon to the wide spot in the road that was the Rockshelter. It consisted of a cave that had been occupied 10,000 years ago. But, the archaeologists had filled it in to preserve the artifacts. We were a little disappointed that there was nothing to see. But, onward we pushed.
According to our GPS software, the shortest way now to our destination was not the we came, but to stay on road that we came in on and to continue. We should come out south of White Bird and a little north of Riggins.
It is the White Water Capital of the World! Soon there were a few ranches, there was maybe one or two every mile or so. We crossed a bridge that spanned the Salmon River; it was only wide enough for one vehicle at a time. We never had to wait for anybody, nor did we cause anyone to wait for us to cross. We were remote. The River was a most beautiful sight for us in the Cab. Unfortunately, those in the back were not able to see it. We continued on. Soon the road turned from pavement to dirt. From the evidence the road was mostly used for log trucks. For miles we saw neither homes nor ranches. The road began to climb. Since it was a hot day in the 100degree neighborhood, I keep a close eye on the engines water temperature. It never got much over half way. At one point there were numbers spray painted on the trees. At the tree with the number one, I just noted it. At 1 1/2, I began to wonder about the numbers. I never saw a 2, but where I would have expected a 2 there were no trees. Soon came 3 and then 4. I was keeping the rig to about 15 to 20 mph, for safety sake I thought. We used the GPS and thought that we would find the highway in about one to two hours at our present rate. That was ok.
About mile 5 or six the RV started acting funny. It was as though the engine was out of gear. I stopped in the middle of the road and got out to take a look. When I looked under the rig, I saw a flaming puddle, and flaming balls dripping from the joint where the engine and transmission were joined. I got back in the RV and backed it up, hoping to drive away from the flames. When I got out and looked again, it became obvious that the transmission housing was engulfed in flames from some substance on the surface. I hollered at Kim and the girls to abandon ship. All we got our was what we were wearing. I stuck my head back in. The air was not thick with smoke from a fire that was extremely rapidly consuming the RV. While we were abandoning the RV, a motorist squeezed by the RV. He was only able to accomplish this by putting the outside two wheels off the road. This, the first vehicle we had seen in about 45 minutes gave us a ride to the house that he was staying. We got to the house, it was so remote that no cell pones worked, and there were no power lines. The only communication out was by satellite phone. A call was made to the fire guys. When we left the scene fire was shooting several feet out of both cab windows.
As God would have it there were two firefighters coming out of the woods from fighting other fires, that saw the smoke and arrived on the scene .5 to a whole hour ahead of the truck that was sent. We heard that two helicopters were also sent. There wasn't much need for some of the equipment, since the vehicle had been stopped in the middle of the road, the area didn't get torched, just mostly scorched.

At the top of the hill where our friendly host gave us a ride. There was a house that was off the grid. It was powered by photo voltaic cells and a windmill. The owner of the house, Mike Ulrich was the most helpful. He got out a set of keys to his Chevy Suburban, and said, Take the Suburban and go into Cottonwood, get a room at the Village Inn, use the vehicle as needed. If you don't leave it at the motel, but need to use it more, just tell the police chief or sheriff where you left it." God may use many hands, but His provision is assured.

God's provision never ceases to amaze me! The young waitress at the Village Inn Cafe was most gracious. After dinner, she let us make calls from the cafe phone. All calls out of Cottonwood are long distance. Our cell phones had no signal, not even a roam signal. The motel was really small, only six rooms, and had the strangest phone system, Ever! From the rooms,we were unable to make any long distance calls. So she let us use the Cafe's phone for our out bound calls. What was incredible, was that she was willing to go many extra miles without being asked! When she realized that we needed to buy everything down to toothpaste and toothbrush, she said that tomorrow was her day off. And that there was a "Wal Mart" kind of store in a nearby town. And that she would drive us there to do any shopping that we might need to do. I am sure that God will richly provide for one such as this girl is, who is willing to spend her time and energy on complete strangers.
Kimberly made several calls to try to cancel our reservations for the next day. I called my son, Heath, and told him of the situation. I started off by making it clear that what I was about to tell him was not a joke. He seemed to get it. Then he said that he had a wedding to go the next day, including the need to know within twenty minutes,since the we wouldn't be able to accept phones calls when the restaurant closed. But, one of his sisters and her husband were house sitting. About ten minutes later, Shaleah who was house sitting, called us. She needed to be sure that the situation was real. I said that it was. She asked where we were and said that she would call us in the morning with an accurate estimated time of arrival.
It turns out that two of my other daughters were with her at the house having a get together. Shaleah and her husband had been in Colorado for the last year, as Keith, her husband of a year completed, his residency as a MD. She had started to practice medicine that year. They were taking a break before moving to Nebraska, where he would become an indentured Doctor. Nebraska will pay for medical school for qualified people,if they agree to return to Nebraska and practice medicine in a small town for four years. Not a bad deal, if you are willing to live in Nebraska in a small town like Broken Bow, pop 3000. Nebraska made a good deal! They got two for the price of one! Although it was 10:50 pm, the sisters got into gear. One gathered the clothes, toothbrushes and other things that we needed, one made the coffee, and the other went on the Internet and called up the necessary maps. Then two of them, Jennifer and Shaleah, jumped into our Caravan and drove to Cottonwood, Idaho, to rescue us. Before we left the cafe, the Cottonwood police chief came into the cafe. I looked at him and he looked at me. Then I said, "Are you looking for Tim Jones?" he nodded. I said, "He went that way." pointing towards the back of the cafe. Fortunately, he laughed. He began to explain that, although some attempts had been made by local people to move the chassis, it was still partially blocking the road. Cars and pickups could now get by, but the loggers would be using the road starting at about 2:00 AM. No they don't start driving after the bars kick them out! In the middle of summer, the woods get dry and become a real fire hazard. During this season the loggers do what they call hoot owlin'. They start at two AM and quit before the morning is over. In a matter of days, or at most weeks, the logging is over, if there is no rain. So, the chief pointed out that the loggers would want to get to work in a few hours. Could I arrange to have the remains removed? He called a towing company, and asked me to arrange payment. During discussions the towing guy said that the insurance companies have never paid a bill for a job like this one in his thirty-five years in the business, and hung up. No resolution on that point yet.

A shower was in order, so we all went to our room and cleaned up. After all the excitement, we were a little tensed up. So Gaby and I took a walk. We headed downtown, looking for a place top buy a soda. The cafe was now closed. When we passed the Catholic Church, we noticed that the Police chief and the sheriff were parked in the church parking lot. Of course we joked about them probably having their late evening donuts and coffee. Gaby and I talked about the things that we had lost in the fire. She said that it was sad, but the only thing that she missed that burned was a pair of old tennis shoes that she had . The reason that she missed them was that they had been signed by her friends in her last year at Canyon Park Junior High School. We found a pop machine, got pops and went back and went to bed. A little after midnight, I was awakened by the Chief. He had another towing company on the line. I talked to the guy, but I guess that he wasn't sure that he would get paid. The Chief tried to give him my credit card number. He would not take it.

I told the chief that it had been a difficult day, and would he find someone to clean up the mess. If he would send me the bill, I would take care of it. He pointed out that it might be someone from a couple of hours away, indicating that the bill might be kinda high. At this point, I would take care of that later. But, now I needed some sleep.

The next morning we awoke to a knock at the door. Both Jennifer and Shaleah were here to help. We all said hi and hugged. The next thing was to brush our teeth, even Jenn and Shaleah. We had a wonderful breakfast at the Village Inn Cafe, and left soon after. The trip back was short and sweet.

We took turns driving, and during a period that I wasn't driving. I had a time to reflect. One of the things that came to me was how a major upset in our plans didn't seem to upset anyone. There had times in the past, on previous vacations, that a simple flat tire would have bummed me out to close to the point of throwing the tire iron. But, now a major event, or trial only brought on a peace that transcends conventional thinking. This in spite of the fact that there was certainly a large financial loss to be sustained. The RV had only liability insurance on it. I did not know that the personal items would be covered either. There was also the question of how the clean up of the county road would be paid for.

One time when I telling this story to a friend, he asked, “What else happened?” As if there could be no more. But there was more in store!

When we got home there was a business bank statement that had arrived in the mail. It seemed prudent to reconcile the account to determine the best way to settle the bills. Once and a while bank account reconciliation can be really exciting. This was one of those times! One check had been made out to a credit card company for $124.52, but had been cashed for $1548.50. What a surprise! If you don't think that the universe has an intelligent designer, and that the devil has plans to try to thwart the design, then tell me the odds of having all the flack come at once! Although, the RV was a few years old, it didn't have a whole lot of miles on it, and had been recently checked over by a competent RV company. Fortunately, our joy and peace are not dependent on material things. We started to replace some of the things that were lost in the fire. I called the police about the check. Apparently, some mail was stolen from our mailbox, and the thief is good at lifting the laser printing. It is then easy for the forger to reprint.

It turns out the Washington Mutual Bank will make good the check. The culprit that forged the check was not very clever after all. He was smart enough to change a check well enough that I could not see the alterations, but he was still pretty dumb. He put his finger print on the check, and used his driver license for ID. The police officer called me and said that his guy has done this before. Is there any meaning in all this? True it is a fallin world, there is random bad stuff that happens, but there is also purpose and trials. Just before we left Pastor Casey Treat asked if anyone liked tests when they were in school. My hand shot up because I liked most tests, true some more than others. But on the most part I liked tests. So did he. He went on to say that passing a test meant that he could go onto the next thing, and he is a forward looking person. If those many disasters were a test, and I think that they were, then what would be the next thing. Or did we even pass the test? I think that we did pass. I also think that the first part of the vacation was a turning point in our lives. We did finish the vacation after we got the police business done. We went to Ashland to see Taming of the Screw, and from there to Central Oregon to dig Geodes. We were not going to let the Devil have the final say!