Scrapbook One Hundred Thirty Two…

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FEBRUARY 2015

 

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This letter came from Allison with no return address so I don’t know where she is, or who she is. Since I can’t respond by mail I’ll post a message on Dal’s blog and hope she reads it:

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Dear Allison,

Thank you for the $100,000,000 check. It cleared, and is now in my Santa Fe account. The banker said funds will be taken from your father’s future pay checks. Please thank him for me. I think you are made of sugar. Send me your address so I can give you some bubble gum.

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I will give an easy clue that will take you to a special place in the forest north of Santa Fe. But I know several girls named Allison so to be sure you are the right one, please tell me by email what is on the back of the envelope you sent me.

Good luck, and thanks again for the money.

Your secret flame,

Forrest Fire

Scrapbook One Hundred Thirty…

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FEBRUARY 2015

Not Tired Yet

 

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The Cuddles Twins

Okay, so we look a little wear weary, who cares? And the tarnish we’ve taken on is from walking around for the last forty years. It just proves that we’re low maintenance.

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Illustration by the author

But to say we’re on our last leg shows you don’t know doodly. Who asked you anyway?

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Keeping an eye on wannabes

Nobody wants you so your future will have to wait a while, because it just will. Our seasoned guard dog is watching you. Besides, your label says “Fabrique en Vietnam,” Ha, big deal! Don’t call us, we’ll call you.

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Cuddles off duty

Bubba doesn’t call us “Cuddles” for no reason. It’s an endearing term. We have dependability on our side so you can go cool your heels in the closet and gather dust with the other standby wannabe house shoes. Our place is near his recliner in the den. Got that?

Sure, we’ve suffered some usage wounds on us, or “battle damage”, to quote the boss, but what’s wrong with having experience?

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Doesn’t Bubba wear us when he needs warmth and comfort around the house and in the yard? Yes, it’s us he wants, not you. His toes have indented little compartments in our sheepskin, and they’ve grown to like the fit.

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Wannabes

Not Cuddles

Wannabes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your labels say ‘Made in China,” and “Fabrique en Chine,” respectfully, so we’ll count you guys out also.

“This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more …”

Thank you Mister Shakespeare, but we didn’t ask for your opinion, and we’re not ready yet to retire. We’ll let you know when. Hope you’re taking notes.

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Cuddles on duty

No comfort shoes can compete with us when it comes to staying power and customer satisfaction. If you don’t agree, then prove your point and Bubba will send you one of his experienced socks.

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Scrapbook One Hundred Twenty Nine Point One…

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JANUARY 2015

Glenna Goodacre

Since there seems to be an interest in Glenna’s work I took some photos of a few things in our collection. All were gifts to us from the artist.

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The little bronze is one of a small edition. It is the first little ballerina of her daughter Jill, who grew up to be a Victoria’s Secret model and married to Harry Connick Jr.

 

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The 7 ½ inch coin is ceramic and was cast from Glenna’s original that the dollar coin was made from

Sometimes Glenna makes ceramic copies of her bronzes to give to friends.

Sometimes Glenna makes ceramic copies of her bronzes to give to friends.

 

 

 

Scrapbook One Hundred Twenty Nine…

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JANUARY 2015

My Eric

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Here’s my seventeen-inch bronze portrait of Eric Sloane created by Glenna Goodacre. She made it just for me, and that’s the way she is. You may not know that she made the Sacagawea dollar coin for the U.S. Mint,

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and of course she also sculpted the Vietnam Women’s Memorial that’s on the National Mall in Washington.

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Even Glenna’s flaws have artistry. That’s if she has any, flaws I mean.

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Eric’s depiction of an airplane flying above the clouds on the front of my bronze is a take-off of his 59 x 75 foot mural that’s on the wall of the National Air and Space Museum in the Smithsonian. Lindbergh’s famous airplane, the Spirit of St. Louis, hangs in front of the mural.

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Eric said that I was flying the airplane in my little painting. His smiling words fell softly on my willing ears. Such was his friendship.

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Glenna captured that mischievous smile on Eric’s face. I know it well. It meant he was about to say something entertaining, probably at my expense.

He was the most productive man I ever knew. He could paint a major painting a day, lunch with me, and dine out with his wife that night. And he wrote fifty books in fifty years, or close to it. I talked about that in his biography, Seventeen Dollars a Square Inch.

Glenna also gave me a $1,000 bill. It was to commemorate ten years of being in the art business together.

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If I’d put it in an interest bearing note when I received it, thirty-three years ago, at 6% interest compounded annually, it’d now be worth … oh, never mind. Maybe someone can tell me. I flunked math class in high school. I don’t intend to spend the bill, but if someone steals it, please keep your eyes peeled for me. Its serial number is J00003274A, and it has President Cleveland’s picture on the front. If it had been my choice, I’d have probably put Eric’s photo on it.

Scrapbook One Hundred Twenty Eight…

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JANUARY 2015

 

In a Tuck

In 1952, my buddy Sammy Myers and I were Buck Sergeants in the Air Force, stationed in Greenville, South Carolina. Our job was repairing airborne radars and flying radio operator on C-82s and C-119s.

noguardSammy and I enjoyed a friendly competition with each other on a personal level. Compared to him, I was shorter, less obvious, and more talently disadvantaged. But I had the instincts of an adventurer, and he didn’t. Maybe that gave me a slight edge in areas where results could easily be measured.

One such place was The Tower. (I hated that thing with a dedicated cynical fervor.) I don’t even want to remember how high off the water it was, but it was enough high for me. I had jumped off the Leon River Bridge at home a few times so I knew how long the fall time was – it was forever, or at least that thought came to me.

IMG_1354d1sSammy and I dove off the intermediate level a few times, and jumped off the top a couple. Then he made a nice swan dive from high up that barely broke the surface of the water. I figured he was warming up to do a dive that I didn’t even want to think about. He appeared too nonchalant for my taste.

“Do a ‘show off,’ and I’ll take your picture,” Sam dared from ground. I just stared. The pressure began to build, and it was so terrible my mind went into spacial overload for a few seconds.

While standing on the top, in the #1 position, my entire life flashed before my eyes. Did I dare? I’d done a few 1 ½ forward somersaults from a ten foot springboard, but I didn’t do them very well. Now it was put-up or shut-up time. My smile was a misnomer and I knew the desire in my heart was at odds with reality, but I was drawn to the seductive glamour of Sam’s camera.

IMG_1354a1sWith a deep breath and a giant spring, I left the platform in a tuck, which opened too late, and my dive quickly unraveled into an over-rotation that landed me flat on my back. Whatever confidence I had was knocked out of me with a sudden traumatic jolt. The blistering pain was almost visible and my embarrassment rang out in exaggerated decibels.

“Got it,” Sam yelled, “They heard the splash in Memphis! You almost made it, Buddy, try it again. I have one more shot on the roll.”

With all I could muster, there I stood again in the rarefied #1 position. But this time I was mad … mad that he’d ask me to do it again after I’d just maimed myself, and mad because with his street level imagination, he thought I wouldn’t try.

If I’d over-rotated trying to do a 1 ½, what if I stayed in the tuck a little longer and went for a 2 ½. Ha, I’d never even thought of that before, but what a great idea. To forget my previous mistake would be done at my own peril. That was for sure.

IMG_1354b1sWith the thought that talent has no loyalty, I left the platform in a tighter tuck than before, thinking that I wanted to see the sky twice as I rotated, then quickly open and enter the water.

And to my great surprise and satisfaction, that’s exactly what happened. The dive was not very pretty, but it was there, and both my body and tattered ego were intact. Sam got the picture, and congratulated me with a pleasant sincerity that felt really good. I never climbed the ladder on that tower again, and I still haven’t.

Scrapbook One Hundred Twenty Seven Point One…

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JANUARY 2015

 

Here's a fly that I tied which could be posted on Forrest's Scrapbook127. This is an extended body dry fly.  This type of fly is rather difficult to tie, because you need to criss-cross wrap the thread out to the end of the body and back in mid-air off the hook, and let the delicate tails extend beyond the body.   But it allows you to use a smaller, lighter hook which usually stays above the water, and you achieve a very realistic mayfly pattern.  There are no Jungle Cock eyes, but there is ginger hackle, fine grey deer hair body and tail, and foam wings cut to shape and colored... The downsides of this tie are that it's very time consuming to tie and vulnerable to damage.  If you catch a trout, it may be history.  But then you caught a trout.   Halogetter


This is an extended body dry fly. This type of fly is rather difficult to tie, because you need to criss-cross wrap the thread out to the end of the body and back in mid-air off the hook, and let the delicate tails extend beyond the body.
But it allows you to use a smaller, lighter hook which usually stays above the water, and you achieve a very realistic mayfly pattern. There are no Jungle Cock eyes, but there is ginger hackle, fine grey deer hair body and tail, and foam wings cut to shape and colored…
The downsides of this tie are that it’s very time consuming to tie and vulnerable to damage. If you catch a trout, it may be history. But then you caught a trout.
Halogetter

This is my first Fly to ever make. I learned a couple things while making it. 1) I could use a third hand. 2) It's alot harder than it looks. Don't bother asking me what kind it is because " I don't know "  and  I'm sure it doesn't fit into any class... Anyway , this is my Fly to enter into Forrest's  " Fly Challenge "  Focused

This is my first Fly to ever make. I learned a couple things while making it. 1) I could use a third hand. 2) It’s alot harder than it looks. Don’t bother asking me what kind it is because ” I don’t know ” and I’m sure it doesn’t fit into any class… Anyway , this is my Fly to enter into Forrest’s ” Fly Challenge “
Focused

I hand tied this one using my needle nose pliers .  It's not pretty but I suppose it would do the job. Made from deer hair and coyote fur  &  thym. Doesn't have a name. !!!! Woody Bogg

I hand tied this one using my needle nose pliers . It’s not pretty but I suppose it would do the job. Made from deer hair and coyote fur & thym. Doesn’t have a name. !!!!
Woody Bogg

I call her "Beauty", and as you can see this is one good looking fly!  I used a plastic rubber mold casted body for durability under fishing duress.  I chose the near extinct sand flowing hair of the Barbie Cocke  (doesn't matter how I say it... it sounds wrong).  Topping the golden hair is a duo of proven Bass lure colors in the "cotton candy" hair bow and frill skirt.  The skirt scantily camouflages her size 2 Octopus barbed hook, ideal for luring 8 trout in at a time.  Finishing off the visible touches is a ruby red lipstick to match her passionate eyes.   Every fly I make has to be stored for 48 hours beside my good luck charm "Cardiac Carl", in order to imbue the tiny weapon with his magical properties.  Iron Will

I call her “Beauty”, and as you can see this is one good looking fly! I used a plastic rubber mold casted body for durability under fishing duress. I chose the near extinct sand flowing hair of the Barbie Cocke (doesn’t matter how I say it… it sounds wrong). Topping the golden hair is a duo of proven Bass lure colors in the “cotton candy” hair bow and frill skirt. The skirt scantily camouflages her size 2 Octopus barbed hook, ideal for luring 8 trout in at a time. Finishing off the visible touches is a ruby red lipstick to match her passionate eyes. Every fly I make has to be stored for 48 hours beside my good luck charm “Cardiac Carl”, in order to imbue the tiny weapon with his magical properties.
Iron Will

Hello everyone ,  I have already sent a pic of my first fly ever to tie and after looking at other flies online I determined that my first fly looked like an over sized Mosquito that was crossbred to a dragon fly  :-)  . So I decided to tie some more and update everyone on my progress.  I sure have a long way to go  before I can say I'm qualified enough to give advice on this subject. These are my " second , third , fourth and fifth " flies to ever tie in my life.....and I  feel like I'm improving .  Now I just need to get a fly rod and test the ones that I have . I don't know if trout will eat these or run for cover. anyways it will be fun trying them out. Thanks Forrest for the " Fly Challenge ". I have had a blast .  " LET'S GO FISHING "                                                                                                    Sincerely, Focused

Hello everyone ,
I have already sent a pic of my first fly ever to tie and after looking at other flies online I determined that my first fly looked like an over sized Mosquito that was crossbred to a dragon fly :-) . So I decided to tie some more and update everyone on my progress. I sure have a long way to go before I can say I’m qualified enough to give advice on this subject. These are my ” second , third , fourth and fifth ” flies to ever tie in my life…..and I feel like I’m improving . Now I just need to get a fly rod and test the ones that I have . I don’t know if trout will eat these or run for cover. anyways it will be fun trying them out.
Thanks Forrest for the ” Fly Challenge “. I have had a blast .
” LET’S GO FISHING ” Sincerely, Focused

This is the Redneck River Reverberator. Nice M-80, disguised with turkey feathers. Fly rod is optional. Guaranteed to bring up the big ones. Even those finicky fish. Forrest, can I come fish in your pond? Pirateofgold

This is the Redneck River Reverberator. Nice M-80, disguised with turkey feathers. Fly rod is optional. Guaranteed to bring up the big ones. Even those finicky fish. Forrest, can I come fish in your pond?
Pirateofgold

There are more things wrong with it than right but I don't think that matters.                 Pacman

There are more things wrong with it than right but I don’t think that matters.
Pacman

 

Scrapbook One Hundred Twenty Seven…

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JANUARY 2015

Holy Feathers

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This cape was one of my father’s favorite objects. It came from the Jungle Cock, which was a fowl indigenous to India.

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Jungle Cock

Flies made from its feathers were popular among trout fishermen in the 40s, but not so much anymore. The “eyes,” as we called them, were always tied on the hook in pairs, one on each side.

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There was a time when the bird was classified “Endangered,” which meant no one in America could legally buy, sell, barter, or import the feathers. They became so scarce that a frightened stillness fell over the entire fly-tying community. Fishermen spoke in hushed whispers about the law that seemed unreasonably punitive. But the war was going on and there were other big issues to think about.

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I caught a nice brown with this fly, and you can see how it got chewed up. I retired it to a place of honor in my ornament box. I used a lot of peacock herl on my streamers, but never made two the same. The fish didn’t care, because they were so hedonistic in those days they’d eat anything that looked like a bug, and Jungle Cock eyes made them all the more ferocious.

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My special fly box still contains about 200 Jungle Cock flies that I made as a teenager. They were so handsome I retired them also. No malodorous fish was going to chew those beautiful bugs.

If anyone can make a better looking fly than this one, and post its photo on Dal’s blog, I’ll give them a quarter. Just send me a SASE,

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Each fly my father sold was impaled upon one of these little advertisements.

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