The Tale Of Olaf

He who does not look ahead remains behind.

Mexican proverb
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This is the tale of Olaf.

Any man can tell you that some of the most arcane literature can be found written on men's room walls. Contrary to what most people think, and against old wives tales, I don't remember ever reading anything that said something like:

"For a good time call Daisy"

with a phone number attached. But there are statements that seem to find their way onto all the men's room walls of the world. If I have to read one more time:

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy"

I think I will kick the wall in a rage. Maybe it was mildly clever the first time around, 35 years ago, maybe, but enough is enough. It is worth noting that in some rare cases something can be found of interest. Near a theatre I used to manage was a bar and grill that I liked to frequent at night after the show was over. Among the other nonsense on the walls of the men's room someone had written:

"What's hot and swims"

That curiosity kept me and my colleagues amused for some time.

I used to live in northern New Hampshire, near the White Mountains. It was a tourist town. Almost all year round people would come up from southern New England, what the locals called Flatlanders, to enjoy the recreational aspects of the area. In the winter that meant skiing. There was a cocktail lounge with food and entertainment not far from where I lived, and I used to like to go there for a beer and some lunch after my radio shift was over.

It was usual that there would be plenty of snow by mid to late December for the visiting skiers. But one year the snow was late in coming. And on the men's room wall someone, probably a frustrated flatlander, had written:

"There's no snow"

A few days later I was in the same restaurant and underneath it someone else had written:

"Olaf knows why there is no snow"

As the winter progressed with still no significant precipitation some one else had written:

"Why, Olaf, is there no snow?"

The winter came and went. During the Spring the walls of the men's room had been painted, thus erasing all communications to and about Olaf.

But the next winter's weather was comparable. Folks were waiting and hoping for a major snow storm that wasn't happening. I ventured into that men's room one afternoon and, sure enough, there on the wall someone had written:

"Where's the snow"

After about a week I found written this plea:

"Where is Olaf when you need him?"

That seemed like a serious, ongoing saga about Olaf and the lack of snow when a few days later another men's room journalist had written

"Olaf moved to North Carolina"

It seems that in North Carolina they had mastered the art of making snow. And thus ended the tale of Olaf.

DB
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WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)

What was the most significant even that happened in 2010?

dbdacoba@aol.com

I await your answer.
DB
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The Wild, Wild West

Whipping posts are on all sides, but there is a clear road between them.

John Newbrough
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This is a true story. It was told to me by one of the two men who lived through this experience. He is a friend and colleague and I know him to be an honest and trustworthy fellow. Both of the men involved in this frightening episode are black, which is important to the story as you will eventually learn.

One December day, many years ago, they started out from somewhere in the Midwest in an old Chevrolet to drive to California. After several days they made it across the plains and headed for the mountains. When they reached the mountains they began their ascent up the mountain highway. Soon it began to rain. As they kept going the rain turned into freezing rain and then into snow.

They thought of putting in somewhere, perhaps for the night, and waiting out the storm. But nothing was open. The truck stops, shops and motels were all closed and locked up. So they kept going.

The snow became very heavy. It blanketed everything. There was no other traffic on the road, no car tracks to follow, and it was difficult to see. They would occasionally slip and slide on the icy road.

Night came. The snow was now coming down in great globs, The headlights were showing nothing but snow falling. There was also a very strong wind which whipped up the snow in front of them. They couldn't see far enough ahead of them to know if they were even still on the road.

My friend said he was so frightened he curled up on the back seat and closed his eyes, certain that at any moment they were going to plunge over the side of a cliff and die. But his buddy, the driver, just kept going.

My friend said the wind was so strong it would push the car from the side and make it slip on the ice, the wheels would spin before they grabbed the surface. They didn't know where they were. They could see nothing.

After a long time they began a descent. As the snow let up they could see that they were still on the road. And then the snow became freezing rain. The road was very slippery and treacherous. The danger of lunging over the side was great. But they kept going.

Torrents of warmer rain came and made the driving difficult but no longer dangerous. Eventually that rain let up and it was morning. They made it down to level ground, the day was breaking and they were almost out of gas, the meter was reading empty.

Up ahead they spied a truck stop, with gas pumps and a diner, so the parked the car with great relief and went inside.

Inside was a counter and some tables. There were stuffed animal heads hanging from the walls, a snake skin tacked up over the rest room door, a rifle hanging in a rack and other items to tell them they were in red neck territory.

The owner poured two cups of coffee and brought them over with some menus tucked under his arm. He asked them where they came from and if they had come over the mountain pass during the night. Then he put the menus down in front of them and went to the pay phone. He made a couple of calls and spoke in a low voice about two guys who just came in. My friend said he couldn't hear the conversation but he did hear the owner say to call some of the boys.

My friend said they were beginning to get scared. They were certqin they were the only black men around those parts and they didn't know what was going to happen. They thought maybe they should get out of there and run, but with no gas in the car they weren't going to get very far.

The owner didn't ask them what they wanted to eat, he just scrambled up some eggs and threw some sort of meat on the griddle. They jumped with fright when they heard the toast pop up.

Soon they were served a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. While they were eating a pickup truck arrived. They could see the American flag decals, a rifle in the back and other signs of a local cowboy. The driver got out, took a paper bag out of the back of the truck and came into the diner. He sat down next to my friend and asked if they were the boys who came over the mountain that night.

My friend said the cowboy spoke very slowly and quietly and said that it was the worst storm in a hundred and fifty years, that they closed down the roads and evacuated all the people. Then he reached into the paper bag, took out a six pack, pulled off two cans for each of them and one for himself. After a moment another pick up came with another cowboy and another six pack. He came in and shook the hands of the two men and pulled out some more beer. Pretty soon more trucks and cars arrived with more beer. My friend said they told the story of their trip across the mountains at least ten times. By mid morning the diner was full of cowboys getting drunk, congratulating the two adventurers and whooping it up.

They were heroes. Their breakfast was paid for, their gas was paid for and they were put up in a motel for the rest of the day and night. The next morning they were on their way west.

DB - The Vagabond
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AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. Autumn is almost over. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
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