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11.10.2015
Spent the first couple days on a high-speed grind across six states I'd already crossed and re-crossed dozens of times since college. I did consider passing the miles by counting trees (Hey, I've done similar with kayak strokes by the thousands) but there were just too many of them.
I finally just shifted into Stoic mode -- which I'm good at a€“ hunkering down and staring at the road ahead for dangerous debris.
Occasionally I see an annoying sign alongside the highway and latch onto its theme to pass the time.
My traveling companion (I'd say my pal) Kawasaki has been behaving and is giving me 50 mpg. Who knows, you may get lucky and I'll be left speechless by the beauty of the Great Plains.
In the 62 years I've been consuming corn -- popped, on the cob, candy corn, tortillas, chips, corn syrup and liquor -- I'm sure I haven't eaten more than an acre's worth, tops two. Spent most of yesterday crossing Missouri on Route 70, a nondescript stretch of highway notable mostly for its gentle undulations -- like a kiddie roller-coaster -- and the amazing number of billboards atop 50-foot stanchions lining both sides of the road. The pace is going well enough that I'm giving up the interstates for the smaller, slower roads.
The drawback to abandoning the interstate is no longer having the shelter of the underpasses when there's rain or lightning. 98 degrees yesterday, possibly higher today, and the engine I'm straddling ups it even further. But, as they tell you at the beginning or end of many church services, "This is the day we are given. Drove up into the Bighorn Mountains yesterday to get some relief -- and it did knock 10 or 15 degrees off. Spotted a fluid leak from my rear axle, which is a concern because I have limited tools with me and even less know-how. But I remember seeing it in 1952 and unless they've added some guys up there, I figure I'm covered.
This stark, barren topography of northern Wyoming looks so familiar to me, and I realize it's from that 1952 trip when the Old Man drove Mom and us four boys out here to see the national parks. Traveling in the car with him was like being confined in tight quarters with a very cranky grizzly bear. Aside from the 1,500 miles of lush farmland from Ohio to Nebraska and the Bighorns, I liked the Black Hills of South Dakota lots -- if you erase the tourist towns of Custer, Sulphur Springs and Keystone, which are pure kitsch. Last night I drove far afield and couldn't make it back to a population center where they might have brand-name lodging -- Holiday Inn, etc.
The large dining was was empty except for five young waitresses on break, sitting at a round table with a quiet young fellow about their age. The youngest and smallest of the ladies -- I'd say she'd just finished high school, or was about to -- came over and asked if it was cold outside. Then she grabbed a telephone and called her boss, who apparently had composed and printed the menu.
The other waitresses had jumped up and gone through the entire supply of new menus, only finding the a€?bubesa€? misprint in four of them.
I pulled out a map to occupy myself: Yes, I was the one who found the typo, but I was laying low on this topic. Still bothered by the SUV rollover I came upon three days ago high in the Bighorn National Park. The lone occupant of the vehicle, a Jordanian student working at a park resort for the summer, had multiple and truly grave injuries -- fractures, gashes, internal bleeding that was bloating his belly.
Although successive people held his hand and tried to encourage him -- and a passing doctor and EMT specialist did all they could -- what he really needed was an operating room, quick.
So he lay in agony alongside the road for almost two hours until an ambulance arrived from a town 30 miles down below and carried him to a patch of road that was flat and open enough for a medevac helicopter to put down.
As for the rodeo action, for me it was like expecting to see the Yankees and getting the Newark Bears -- not even a€?single-Aa€? ball. Many lassoes were flung but few calves were roped, barrels mostly got knocked over in the circle-the-barrels horse races, and nearly every cowboy immediately got bounced off the bucking broncos and bulls. The most fun of the night was when they invited all kids 12 and under to the arena floor to win a prize for snatching ribbons ribbons tied to the tails of three calves running loose.
I was hoping the boy, who appeared bright enough to do it, would remind him that New Hampshire was one of the original colonies, but maybe he was too polite. The Testicle Festival near Missoula, Mont., is in mid-August this year, and I'll be long gone. So many bikers around the South Dakota-Montana-Wyoming junction that everyone's a€?quit waving.
The road west through the Lolo Pass into the Bitterroot Mountains overlies, in part, the path of the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1805-06.
For me, to travel over the same ground covered by these 32 brave and resourceful men (never forgetting the remarkable Sacajewea with her baby) is an electric experience. For me, to drive along this pathway -- now Route 12 -- was a privilege and an honor I can't properly put into words.
The journals of Lewis and Clark are among the great American documents and the best kind of adventure tale -- a true story experienced by people we hope we could emulate. Two of them were in a motel in Grand Island, Neb., two in a passing car in South Dakota and one in a roadside softball game in Nevada. True, I haven't gone through any real cities, but I'm wracking my brain and I can't recall seeing any other African-Americans. In the category of What Else Is New?: a€?In Riggins, Idaho, a rough-feeling former mining town on the Salmon River, now a a€?summer rafting center, a 50-ish tourist I'd seen an hour earlier strolling on the street a€?lurches away from the Salmon Inn, a billiards joint that sells beer and pizza. Rolled my bike out of my brother-in-law's San Diego garage, reset the odometer to zero from the 5,060 miles recorded on the westbound leg, and I'm off! The terrain turns bleak just a handful of miles east of San Diego: Barrenness, rock piles, occasional scrawny bushes.
In this visual monotony, the mind drifts and I recall driving past a menacing looking blockhouse of a bar in San Diego that had a foot-square white sign on its door. From Yuma east to Tucson is Moon-like landscape with scrub brush and mountains in the distance. Had the joy, in the far outskirts of Phoenix, of spending eight hours or so talking with Bil Canfield, the best cartoonist The Star-Ledger and before that The Newark Evening News, ever had. Drove -- and drove some more -- east through the startling sprawl that is Phoenix and into the Pinal Mountains. I drove nearly all the way across New Mexico staring at the a€?skies: Fortunately, the straightness of Interstate 10 let me do it without a€?wrecking.
I know it's a vestige of my time in the military, but I have a great a€?aversion to people in uniforms. Well, this strip above the Mexican border-- from California across to Texas -- is positively crawling with uniforms.
You see them in McDonald's, they're racing around in trucks, they're in helicopters scouring the desert, they're at random checkpoints miles north of the border. The waitress was a bubbly local girl named Cindy who was pleasant enough but had a voice so shrill it pierced to the bone.
There's a lot of guys in these parts driving pickup trucks in what I would call a hostile manner. The 140 miles of Route 180 north from El Paso to the Guadelupe Mountains National Park are little-traveled but gorgeous.
I left the bike on the shoulder of the highway and walked off 100 feet to try capturing the scene with my camera. He gives me the exact mileages, tells me how long it'll take to get there, says where to turn en route and notes that there's 18 miles of construction along the way but it shouldn't slow me down. The sky heading north into West Texas was all bright and blue except for one dark patch, which grew larger as I rolled onward As the black area expanded I could see lightning strikes and columns of rain in its core. I sped up -- to 90 mph at one point -- figuring I would outrun it or outflank it, but the storm always stayed directly before me. While I was struggling to put a tarp over the bike, a blocky lady sheriff in a gray-panted uniform ran out of the diner to her cruiser. I covered my bike, took a photo of the nastiest looking sky I've ever seen and sprinted to the safety of the diner. The young fellow, wearing a Texas Tech T-shirt, brushed dead flies off my table next to the front window. Half a dozen were bouncing against the window pane and others were flitting on and off about every surface in the place. I ordered a coffee and burger and waited, taking comfort in being in a safe place with a kid who seemed to understand weather conditions I didn't.
In another few minutes I gave up trying to clear my helmet visor by hand: I lifted it and took the rain in my face.
I couldn't judge which way the storm was traveling, so there was no evasive actiona€?to take. I spent the better part of one day crossing the length of Oklahoma east to west with a 30 mph blow going on. Finally, Cheryl got them all up and busy, filling sugar bowls and wiping down chairs in advance of lunch, and I left. So many bikers around the South Dakota-Montana-Wyoming junction that everyone's quit waving. I'm saving one Butte mystery for another visit: How a bar in a blue-collar neighborhood next to the pitmine got the name Helsinki Yacht Club. I get the impression a lot of folks out here don't much care for Easterners, or maybe it's just me personally they don't like. In the category of What Else Is New?: In Riggins, Idaho, a rough-feeling former mining town on the Salmon River, now a summer rafting center, a 50-ish tourist I'd seen an hour earlier strolling on the street lurches away from the Salmon Inn, a billiards joint that sells beer and pizza. A A  Had the joy, in the far outskirts of Phoenix, of spending eight hours or so talking with Bil Canfield, the best cartoonist The Star-Ledger and before that The Newark Evening News, ever had. A A A  Drove -- and drove some more -- east through the startling sprawl that is Phoenix and into the Pinal Mountains. A A A  I drove nearly all the way across New Mexico staring at the skies: Fortunately, the straightness of Interstate 10 let me do it without wrecking. A A  I know it's a vestige of my time in the military, but I have a great aversion to people in uniforms.
A A  The waitress was a bubbly local girl named Cindy who was pleasant enough but had a voice so shrill it pierced to the bone. A A  There's a lot of guys in these parts driving pickup trucks in what I would call a hostile manner. A A  The 140 miles of Route 180 north from El Paso to the Guadelupe Mountains National Park are little-traveled but gorgeous.
A A  I left the bike on the shoulder of the highway and walked off 100 feet to try capturing the scene with my camera.
Weetamoo was first married to Alexander (Massasoita€™s son) from 1653 until his death in 1662.
Another book, Massasoit of the Wampanoags by Alvin Weeks (available in the Los Angeles City Library, but which I have not been able to obtain) says that Weetamoo had two additional husbands, or a total of five.


If Weecum were Weetamoo's daughter by Alexander she would have been between 13 and 22 years old, certainly of marriageable age and about the same age as her husband Benjamin. The Pocasset Tribe was one of the largest and most powerful tribes in the Wampanoag Federation.
It was Corbitant who, in July 1621, shortly after the Pilgrims arrived, contrived a plot to become the Great Sachem of the Wampanoags. This plot was thwarted when Hobomock and Squanto heard Corbitant's speech to the Nemaskets. In March of 1623, when Massasoit was suffering from his serious illness, Winslow was sent to pay his respects to the dying Sachem.
After dinner Corbitant asked Winslow, if it had been Corbitant who was ill, would Governor Bradford have sent medicine and would Winslow have come such a long distance to heal him. Winslow had to think for a moment on this and then replied that it was a mark of respect and they treated all people that way when they felt a great respect for them. Their conversation turned toward religion and they were both surprised that their religions actually had much in common. Following Alexander's death, Weetamoo returned to her home to assume her role as Squaw Sachem of the Pocassets. Weetamoo eventually married Peter Nannuit, (Petanonowett, Petanunuit.) Little is known of him, except that at the outbreak of the King Philip War, he sided with the English. As the main body of Indians moved north, Weetanoo, went to Ninigret, Sachem of the Eastern Niantics, in Rhode Island. In the fall of 1675, while she was still with the Eastern Niantics, Quinnapin escaped from jail in Rhode Island and came to seek refuge with his friend (and father's cousin) Ninigret.
Quinnapin was the son of Canjanaquand, (Cagianaquan) who was a brother to Miantonomo, Great Sachem of the Narragansetts before his son Canonchet. Quinnapin and Weetamoo joined with Canonchet in his swamp island shortly before the surprise attack of the English known as the Great Swamp Massacre, of December 19, 1675.
Under the military leadership of Canonchet, Quinnapin became one of the leading war sachems, striking hard with his force of 400 warriors. Following the death of Canonchet in April, Quinnapin was the leader of the Narragansetts in battles. In early August, as the end seemed to be nearing, Quinnapin led what was left of his Narragansett warriors, back to Rhode Island.
There remained some question as to her cause of death but this is the state in which her body was found and desecrated. After returning to Rhode Island, Quinnapin was also hunted down by the English and eventually captured. Little is know of Weecum (Weecome) except that she was a Squaw Sachem, probably of the Pocasset Tribe. Pamantaquash (Pomantaquash) was the Sachem of the Assawampsetts Tribe in the Wampanoag Federation. Pamantaquash has been confused, by some writers, with Poquanum, the Sachem of Nahant, a tribe located north of Boston on a peninsula south of Lynn. In 1668, six years after the death of Massasoit, Pamantaquash had the following will recorded by Nathaniel Morton, secretary of the Plymouth Colony, naming Tuspaquin as his heir.
Tuspaquin (Tuspequin Tispaquin, Watuspuquin) was a highly regarded sachem at Assawampsetts Pond.
In contrast to the very tall, fair complexioned Indians of New England, Tuspaquin, is said to have been short, very heavy, with unusually long arms for a short person. Tuspaquin was regarded highly enough to win the hand of Amie, the daughter of Massasoit, for his wife. There are indications that Tuspaquin extended his domain to include the Nemasket Tribe to the north as he is sometimes referred to as being the Sachem of the Assawampsetts and Nemaskets. Although he seemed compatible with the English settlers, Tuspaquin never aligned himself closely with them.
At the outbreak of the War, Tuspaquin led a large force of 300 warriors in support of Philip. After Philip returned to Wampanoag country near the end of the war, it was easier for the English to enlist volunteers and also to surround the holdouts. Of Tuspaquin's and Amie's children, it is quite certain that William was killed in the war. Benjamin Tuspaquin (Tuspaquin II, Squim, Squin, Benjamin Squinnamay, Benjamin Squamnaway) is the only child of Old Tuspaquin and Amie known to have survived the King Philip War and remain in this country.
After the King Philip War, the surviving Indians recognized their place as a conquered people and settled down to be subservient to the English in, what was formerly their land.
Lydia's parents both died when she was young and she was raised by her grandparents, Benjamin and Weecum.
At the time of his second marriage, Andrew already had two children of his own from his prior marriage. A point against the argument that this was a case of mistaken identity and that the dead man was not Andrew Newcomb, is the fact that he was known by the men who identified him. The obvious omission of his oldest son, Andrew II, as an heir could be due to the fact that this son was already well established in life and had no need of an inheritance; or it is possible that there was a falling out between father and son. The first record of Andrew buying land was on 20 April 1669 (deeds at Alfred, York Co., Maine, Vol. At this time Andrew Newcomb became Constable of the town and was living at the Shoals, or in Kittery.
The name of Andrew's first wife, Sarah, appears only once, on a deed of land sold and recorded 21 July 1673 (from the deeds at Exeter, N.H. At Edgartown, Andrew became a prominent citizen and his name appears in many documents, as witness for land transfers, etc. Sometime after his arrival in Edgartown, Andrew met and married his second wife, Anna Bayes, daughter of Anna Baker, of Boston and Captain Thomas Bayes. By 1690, Andrew was an established member of the community and had acquired several parcels of land.
Although some records list 11 children for Zerviah and Josiah Bearce, other records make it clear that they, in fact, had no children. Bearce says (9) he knows from family tradition that Margaret was the daughter of one of Massasoit's two brothers but he could not remember which one. The birth date of Margaret is not known but, it is likely to have been about 1612-15, or about the same time as her Uncle Akkompoin. At the arrival of the pilgrims, Quadaquinna was in his thirties and could easily have been the father of the 6-9 year old Margaret. Even before the arrival of the Pilgrims, while exploring New England, Captain Dermer was captured by the local Indians at Nemasket. When the Pilgrims landed, in December of 1620, Quadaquinna was in his prime, probably somewhere in his 30's.
As Quadaquinna entered the English lodge where they were to meet, he was concerned about their guns and refused to sit down until they had all been removed from the building. It is not known whether Quadaquinna died young, or whether he was so much a part of Massasoit's company that no one bothered to specifically mention him again.
Nothing is known of Quadaquinna's family except that Bearce (9) says, one of Massasoit's brothers was the father of Margaret. Gabriel Wheldon was born in England and seems to have had a wife and children before coming to America.
From the pilgrim's records, it is not apparent that Gabriel Wheldon was sent, or sentenced, to Matachees. To summarize much of the above, Gabriel Wheldon arrived in Plymouth, probably from Nottinghamshire, England, in 1628 and went immediately to Mt. After living with the Pokanoket Indians for some time, Gabriel must have felt safe in returning to the town of Plymouth.
On October 27, 1646 Ruth Wheldon, the daughter of Gabriel and Margaret, was married to Richard of Yarmouth. A record can be found of an Indian Sagamore by the name of a€?Richarda€? at Yarmouth at this time. A dissenting view is expressed by Bearce, who says that a€?Richard Tayler was born in England.a€? No source, or support is given for this statement. Richard of Yarmouth, the tailor, at about age 42, married Ruth Wheldon, age 14, October 27, 1646.
The Indians on Cape Cod were considered part of the Wampanoag Nation but, that may have been because they really didn't have much choice.
The Indians on the Cape, those of Marthas Vineyard, Nantucket and Elizabeth Islands were part of the Wampanoag Federation but more removed physically, socially and perhaps politically. During the life of Massasoit, most of the Nipmuck tribes, of central Massachusetts, and many of the Massachusetts Federation, of eastern Massachusetts, also gave allegiance to the Wampanoag's Great Sachem and were considered to be part of Massasoit's followers in about the same way as the Cape Indians. Because of this, there is less known of the Cape Indians than of some of the other Wampanoag Tribes. It is not absolutely clear if all of the other Cape Indians belonged to a single tribe, or if there were further divisions. Coneconam, Sachem at Manomet, was one of those captured by Captain Edward Harlow in 1611, along with Epanow, Sachem at Gay Head on Marthas Vineyard Island.
It will be remembered that, the first encounter the Pilgrims had with any of the natives was in December 1620, when they first landed on the Cape. In June 1621, less than three months after Massasoit and Quadaquinna signed the first treaty with Plymouth, a young boy from the colony got lost in the woods. It was no secret to the Indians where the boy was, but when the colonists were unable to find him they sent word to Massasoit, who responded that they need not worry, the boy was safe and in good hands. Before they could return to their boat, it was mid-day and Iyanough invited them to stay for lunch. Aspinet then told them that Massasoit had been captured by Canonicus, of the Narragansetts, and recommended that they return to help him as soon as possible. As soon as they got underway they met with such strong winds that the colonists could make no real headway.
Iyanough was evidently supportive of the Treaty of Submission to King James, signed at Plymouth on September 13, 1621. In January, Miles Standish, the ill tempered military captain, went with the ship and a shallop to Nauset to pick up the corn that had been left there. Shortly thereafter, in February 1623, Miles Standish went to Mattachee to pick up the food that Governor Bradford bought and left there.
About the same time, Governor Bradford made a trip to Manomet to ask for food from Coneconam. 20121 Kings 8:28 -- But please listen to my prayer and my request, because I am your servant. I did have a deer bound in front of me on Route 80 in Pennsylvania but my horn-honking turned him.
But these cornfields stretch outwards hundreds and hundreds of miles from here (Grand Island, Neb.). I think it's to find some little bit of company and comfort out among all the larger vehicles.
Without that cover overhead, you're on open country roads getting soaked and -- worse -- sitting on a big piece of metal that attracts electrical charges.


Forecast for the next four days where I'm going in Montana-Idaho is for the same temp, with chances of afternoon thunderstorms.
The look of the Bighorn National Forest is austere, powerful, vast, a lot of rock faces with detritus heaps below. I was concerned the fuel injector wouldn't automatically adjust to these changes in altitude (4,500 feet on the high desert to 9,000 in the Bighorns), but it's purring wherever I take it. Rushmore the other day but didn't make the effort to go see it, which sounds vaguely anti-American even to me. It was hard traveling, especially to make a two-week 4,000-mile round trip like the Old Man did, as the lone driver.
But he did want us to see places maybe most kids didn't and I think he wanted to make us adventurous. The formula for making them would be: Take a sea of sand about 200 miles across, stir it up a bit so you get rounded, swelling waves, top it with tall grass, sprinkle lightly with black Angus cattle and every mile or so plunk down a windmill to draw water for the cattle.
As I ate, dust clouds from the adjacent road being repaved swirled around the parking lot, a crushed root beer cup was whirling in irregular circles near the table, and in the distance, jagged lightning bolts among the dark clouds atop the Bighorns. I explained that my leather jacket wasn't for warmth, but for padding, in case I fell off the bike.
The last thing I am is a flag waver, but when the pennants of the rodeo's sponsors -- Coca-Cola, Dairy Queen, Pinnacle Bank, the U.S.
Picking their way along Indian trails and bushwhacking through the towering evergreens, Lewis and Clark had no idea how deep this forest would be, only that the Pacific lay somewhere ahead.
I stopped along the way to read every historical marker, each keying the location to a specific entry in the two expedition leaders' daily journal.
With this kind of light ahead, I think I'll need shades every morning till about 10:00 all the way home. Then the Imperial Valley, which is inhuman in its sterile, mass-production agriculture way.
The landscape is all creosote bushes about 20 feet apart and occasional gray rock ridges sticking out of the dust like the dorsals of buried lizards.
Who's more manly, Hulk Hogan or Mahatma Gandhi, who probably couldn't bench-press two Wheaties boxes on a stick but helped topple the British Empire? I assume folks come here to warm their old bones -- it gets to 115 degrees in summer -- and stretch their savings. The old copper mining towns of Miami and Globe have great potential for photos but the light was wrong and I couldn't wait for it to get right. Billowing several thousand feet in the air, it a€?looks like the product of the largest explosion that ever was, but it a€?doesn't float away or change in any way.
The driver was from Utah -- and a look-alike for actor Charles Laughton -- who had doubled back to see if I needed help. If my bike had been disabled, he'd have committed himself to driving me 75 miles to arrange for repair, and he knew that. I veered off the road next to a small town's grain elevator, which I thought might give me some cover. Its occupants turned out be a skinny kid in charge, who stood about six-foot-six, somebody working the kitchen, me, and about a thousand flies. After about half an hour the kid said, "If you're goin' to Lubbock, you should be all right now. I could still see a thin strip of blue sky and sunshine before me along the horizon, but raindrops began pelting my windshield. Hailstones began to mix in with the rain, pellets about the size of peas ricocheting off my plastic windshield and helmet.
I was hanging off the right side of the seat and still had to tilt the bike a couple degrees in that direction to counter-act the northbound wind. As I ate, dust clouds from the adjacent road being repaved swirled around the parking lot, a crushed root beer cup was whirling in irregular circles near the table, and in the distance,A  jagged lightning bolts among the dark clouds atop the Bighorns. Someone has popped him on the cheekbones as perfectly as as you can be punched -- pinpoint shots.
Billowing several thousand feet in the air, it looks like the product of the largest explosion that ever was, but it doesn't float away or change in any way. She would also have been a part of the royal family which would make her a suitable mate for Benjamin. Rowlandson says that a victory dance a€?was carried on by eight of them, four men and four squaws.a€? Weetamoo was one of the squaws.
James Church and certain members of his company of friendly Indians, in consideration of services rendered by them to the Province tract of land in what was then Freetown, but now East Fall River.
1666-7, in the Ketch _______, Andrew Newcomb, Master, for Virginia for account of John Ely and Eliakim Hutchinson--various horses described--avouched by Mr.
Andrew Nurcom complayneth agaynst Amos an Enden (Indian) for Inbaseling or purloyning away Sidor & Rum.
2 p.24) Late that afternoon, the shallop finally got out of the harbor and made Plymouth before nightfall. Driving through the puddles on the highway was a little unnerving but there were no overpasses for shelter, so I had to keep going. Louis for Night 3, but otherwise it's been just the banter with waitresses and gas station folks.
I got out the sturdy Pope Paul II church key someone gave me (OK, I bought it) and used it as a kind of giant screwdriver to tighten the fluid cover.
I drove hundreds of miles out of my way to get there because it was billed across the state as a hi-grade rodeo.
They bolted and the kids chased them every which way, sprawling in the dirt and whatever else was on the ground. When I walked away from the bike to take photos I found a€?myself straining to get enough oxygen. Winter was approaching, and the party's hunters were having no success in finding game on the steep slopes of these unending woods. Lassen, Calif., to visit with my buddy of five decades Ted and his wife Carolyn, then wrap it up with two broiling days down Veggie Valley (California's Route 5) to San Diego. Don't know if you have to bring your own water: I sure didn't pass over a flowing stream or see a lake for a couple hundred miles. Bil suffers from Blatt's Sydrome, wherein the body ages normally but the mind never makes it past 18 -- well, maybe 15 in Bil's case. The place bored me quickly: Only the cowboy hats distinguish this casino from the the East Coast brand.
The pluses with a bike are limited to the physicality of the travel -- if you like that -- and a natural buzz from rolling along out in the open.
When I walked away from the bike to take photos I found myself straining to get enough oxygen.
This Indian plantation was afterwards surveyed and divided into 25 lots, of which the 19th, 20th, 21st and 22nd lots were assigned to the lineal descendants of Benjamin Tuspaquin. John Kendrick was the first ship-master who went on a voyage to the northwest coast from the United States and discovered the Columbia River. 25, 1651-2, at Barnstable, Mass.) The King Philip War had just ended in which her husband, Joseph, served for the English. After half minute of mayhem, the boy who had grabbed the first ribbon brought his proof to the announcer in the center of the arena. About 17 years old, he's attempting to a€?grow a beard but it's a€?sketchy and mostly fuzz. And the clouds, which are soft and thinnish at eye level, become brilliant white, three-dimensional puffs directly above. I thought maybe they had given me the plexiglass model from the a€?food showcase in the lobby and slathered barbecue sauce on it. I thought maybe they had given me the plexiglass model from the food showcase in the lobby and slathered barbecue sauce on it. I ate my Papaburger Special at a giant picnic table in front of the place, joined by by six unruly kids who piled out of a van from Missouri.
A redhead, a€?about 30, who Ia€™d seen walking with him earlier, chases after him for a a€?while, a€?calling his name. A redhead, about 30, who Ia€™d seen walking with him earlier, chases after him for a while, calling his name.
Summit reminded me a€?of the fjord area around Bergen, Norway -- no trees, just rock and some hardy a€?vegetation. He had a€?fond memories of the place, which police shuttered in 1982 after 100 years of operation.a€?a€?Went out for a beer in Uptown, but the bars were too raucous. She gives up after 100 feet, turns and runs back to throw her a€?arms around the neck of the guy who did the thrashing, a very beefy fellow about a€?25 in a muscle T-shirt.
Summit reminded me of the fjord area around Bergen, Norway -- no trees, just rock and some hardy vegetation. He had fond memories of the place, which police shuttered in 1982 after 100 years of operation.Went out for a beer in Uptown, but the bars were too raucous. She gives up after 100 feet, turns and runs back to throw her arms around the neck of the guy who did the thrashing, a very beefy fellow about 25 in a muscle T-shirt. 1716, she married Josiah Bearce I, the son of Joseph and Martha (Taylor) Bearce, and grandson of Austin (Augustine) and Mary Bearce. Negatively, entire working class neighborhoods were gobbled up by the mining company as a€?the pit expanded.a€?The Uptown District is on the National Register of Historic Places but that's a€?not doing much for its current economic health. Negatively, entire working class neighborhoods were gobbled up by the mining company as the pit expanded.The Uptown District is on the National Register of Historic Places but that's not doing much for its current economic health.
They're trying to restore the a€?district but it still looks worn, like the subjects of an Edward Hopper painting.
They're trying to restore the district but it still looks worn, like the subjects of an Edward Hopper painting. I love Hopper.a€?I stayed at the Mindlen Hotel, a 1924 knockoff of the now-demolished Astor a€?Hotel in NYC, but this version's only nine stories tall. I love Hopper.I stayed at the Mindlen Hotel, a 1924 knockoff of the now-demolished Astor Hotel in NYC, but this version's only nine stories tall.
The Mindlen's been a€?restored to its a€?original condition, which was that of a fine businessmen's hotel.
The Mindlen's been restored to its original condition, which was that of a fine businessmen's hotel. Tall-columned a€?lobby, chandeliers, marble floors.a€?I didn't detect there were any other guests with me on the second floor, which a€?is maybe why I slept so well. Tall-columned lobby, chandeliers, marble floors.I didn't detect there were any other guests with me on the second floor, which is maybe why I slept so well.



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