Category: Misery and Company

July 22, 1969: It’s all fun and games until…

Photo credit here

Got up and drove to Howard Prairie Lake near Ashland, stopping at a good store & bakery at Medford. The kids swam.

Marge Binder, July 22, 1969
Could this be the last photo of Tim with his glasses? Maybe.

Mom must have submitted her diary entry before the drama that unfolded later that night. My brother Tim, a gifted raconteur, was holding forth around the campfire after dinner, doing impressions, mimicking the Borscht Belt greats, “owning the room.”

At some point, he slung around and — phwoosh — off flung his glasses into the fire. While we all reacted in horror (and a bit of “what an showman!”), Tim went about trying to retrieve them. But they were already literally toast.

To a Binder boy, lost or broken glasses meant humiliation, like getting a C+ on a test (Tim was the exception to this analogy). Lost glasses was just one more piece of tinder to stoke our raging insecurities. Our childhoods were littered with such spectacles (pun intended), some involving snowball fights, scrapes at school or simple stupidity.

On top of the initial sting of loss, Tim would be blind for a while, until we were someplace long enough for lenses and glasses to be made — pretty much the remainder of the trip.

No matter, it was really funny. Mission accomplished, Timbo! You owned it!

Fun story: When I finally got contact lenses in 1978, I lost one before I even got out of the office. Must have been a sight (puns abound!) for arriving patients to see a half dozen nurses and admins crawling around on the floor.

Note the address: Dead Indian Road. Well certainly they’ve changed the name of that by now. Nope. It’s actually got a pretty significant history. You can learn about it here.

July 21, 1969: “Es mejor que nada, baby!”

Photo credit here.

Dad was not a fan of the campsite along the Rogue River. Mom describes it as “dusty.” After all that she had endured on this trip, though, I’m sure she made due.

This occasion would have been ideal for Mom to proclaim her yet-to-be-TM’ed motto: Es mejor que nada. Spanish for, It’s better than nothing. The “baby” was tacked on later, probably during her tenure as a high school Spanish teacher in Fairfax County.

Mom voiced this mantra often in the past 40 years. It’s at the heart of who she is: a Depression baby who appreciates what you have, because it could be worse! Yeah, she was an optimist, a trait I did not inherit.

Years later, I had shirts printed.

Packed and left. Got a late start. Drove north along the coast then into Oregon. Camped in a dusty park on the Rogue River. Jim didn’t like it.

July 19, 1969: Tim Sees a Doctor

Mike has a friend next door named Mark—6 ½ yrs old, several inches taller than Mike and over 100 lbs. Took them on a hike with the ranger. Went to town to buy groceries and have a doctor look at Tim’s rash. Swam and went to the camp fire. 100° by the river but nice & cool at night.

Marge Binder, July 19, 1969

Okay, I’ll admit the headline “Tim Sees a Doctor” seems a little unexceptional. Thing is, it’s huge. Tim avoided doctors his whole life, so I don’t think he went willingly back in 1969, especially for a measly rash.

In his life, Tim experienced several injuries that would require anything from stitches to not-simple surgery. The ones I can remember from the last 20 years or so: he got bit by a copperhead snake and watched his hand swell and turn black, waiting several days to seek treatment; he dropped a fish-cleaning knife into his foot, severing a major tendon and was goaded by Dad into finally seeing a doctor, only to forego the kind of therapy he needed to heal; a few years before he passed, he twisted his knee in an unfortunate encounter with his car on an icy driveway, so he used a cane from then on rather than get help.

That was Tim, and he was proud of it.

In the book we made for our parents’ 60th anniversary, Tim contributed an essay about one of these doctor-avoidance episodes, something I called “Medical Attention Deficit Disorder.” Here is an excerpt:

Until the last few years, fish-cleaning was done on a makeshift table
in the garage. In 2002, I was butchering a bountiful day’s catch with a
murderous and electric fish-fillet knife. Between salmon, this implement
fell — while switched on — off the table and onto my right instep, slicing
a tendon neatly in two, and causing blood to gush. It also caused a vocal
argument between Boss, who advised a trip to the emergency room, and
I, who wanted to wrap it in gauze and duct-tape and go fishing the next
morning. As Captain of the ship, Boss’s will prevailed. Besides sutures,
the local doctor advised surgical splicing of the tendon, which I declined
when told this would keep me off the water for several precious days.

T. James Binder, 2010

July 15, 1969: More Hippies!

Hippie Tree Photo

Before we get to the hippies, there’s another thing that happened this day. I got separated from the family at Fishermann’s Wharf. I have visual memories of the terror: strange crowds and cars and noise and movement in every direction; and no Mom! Maw says she was equally freaked.

We were reunited soon enough because I followed my parents’ advice: “If you get lost, just stay put and we’ll find you.” Or maybe they taught me that after this episode. Anyway, it makes sense.

Okay, now on to Dad’s favorite people: hippies!

https://allthatsinteresting.com/san-francisco-1960s-photos

Hippies were everywhere by 1969, but the Bay Area was still the epicenter of the peace and love action. They seemed nice enough to me, a little dirty and odiferous. For Dad, though, hippies represented a culture counter to his own. He was an establishment man and a veteran of WWII. As the editor-in-chief of ARMY magazine, he was working with a positive narrative on the events in Vietnam. It’s a topic we hashed out many years later; much to my fascination, Dad was both clear-eyed and clear of conscience.

And for all his disparagement, I think Dad liked being around them at Bootjack. I think he found them fun-loving and non-threatening.

We have a beautiful view and the road isn’t too bad. Went to Tiburon and then S.F. Had fish at Fisherman’s Wharf and saw several ships & a museum. Took a cable car & taxi ride. Many hippies at Bootjack.

Marge Binder, July 15, 1969

Dad also liked to recount an event from this day that Mom glosses over in her diary. As he tells it, we were preparing to jump aboard a cable car. While he waited for one to slow, he saw Mom in his periphery hop aboard the runner with me dangling from one arm. Somehow he managed to get aboard, along with Tim and Mike

July 12, 1969: “It never rains in Southern California…”

Clamming, Pismo style. I guess it all can’t be surf ‘n’ sun.

Maw still hums this song every now and again. The data agrees (see below), at least for July. We learned a very different lesson back in ’69.

Speaking with Maw a few weeks ago she recalled this day in detail. I added up all of the challenges: thunderstorms, heat, tent camping, laundry, more rain, power outage with soaked clothes. That must have been the worst! Mom was like, meh.

Actually had thunder and rain – then a fairly hot day. Went to San Luis Obispo to buy Tim a new rod. They swam. Another shower in the evening and the power went out just as I was finishing the laundry.

Marge Binder, July 12, 1969

July 3, 1969: Lincoln Lives!

In my head: “Wait, I’m pretty sure that dude is dead. He definitely has some issues with mobility and speech. Poor Abraham Lincoln. Let’s go ride the train.”

Seriously, this show freaked me out. We boys had been immersed in American history in our few years in Virginia, so I was one confused little 4-year-old.

I don’t remember much more of that day at Disneyland. I was too small to ride the Matterhorn (something I finally checked off my list 25 years later). I have the feeling my first day at Disney was a strictly A-Ticket affair.

FUN FACT: E-Tickets Matter!

Those old Disney ticket books could be worth big coin! Even if you just have a few individual tickets from way back when, Guest Relations at the parks can calculate what they’re worth and pay you on the spot. If you have complete books in good condition, Ebay can calculate what they’re worth, and the sum total might be worth college tuition to a decent, in-state school.

Had a time getting Mike’s allergy shot but finally managed. Picked up Jim and got to Disneyland about 12:30. Had pancakes etc and visited everything. Stayed until 9 o’clock fireworks. Big crowd.

Marge Binder, July 3, 1969

Disney and Life

This was my first Disney park experience. I wouldn’t return to Disneyland until 2001.

In the meantime, I was introduced to Walt Disney World just a few months after it opened in 1971. As I do the math, that was a scant two years after my Lincoln freak-out. No matter, WDW became a big part of my youth; Mom and Dad arranged for the Family to spend every other Christmas there for years. More fond memories of roadtrips and camping and so much more. (Blog-worthy, yes, but not nearly as epic as this journey we’re on.)

When I worked at WDW in the 80s, in a number of capacities, I thought of my Mom whenever I dealt with families in distress. They’d planned, they were protecting family, they just wanted to enjoy the experience, but sometimes things don’t pan out as they’d hoped. If I had the ability to make things right (which I most often did in Guest Relations), I would, because I know what it would mean to Mom.

That empathy made me really good in those WDW jobs, and I think it affects my approach to work and people to this day.

June 30, 1969: Part 1

“25 miles north of Azusa…”

…A place which will live in infamy.

Had trouble pulling stakes & had to leave several. Drove down that terrible road. Doug threw up his crackers and kool-aid when we got to Azuza. Visited Uncle Russ & Aunt Marge. Had lunch. Phoned campgrounds. Set up at Lomita trailer park. Visited the Pacific.

That “terrible road.”

This is the road Mom references. Looking at it, I’m feeling the kool-aid and crackers gurgling up even now!

Seriously, what could go wrong when you load a four-year-old up with crackers and Kool-Aid, stuff him in the back seat and then traverse this serpentine nightmare?

As I recall (which might have been a dream), I erupted forth with a smooth pink sloosh into the front passenger seat, right down Tim’s back.

Ever since, Mom considered this episode a highlight and a low point of the trip and my childhood. To this day, Mom refers to this moment by its exact geography: “25 miles north of Azusa.”

June 26, 1969: Nobody Likes the Grand Canyon

“Windy and dirty.”

In my 54 years I have never met anyone who actually liked the Grand Canyon. It’s a place you have to visit, of course. You stand on the edge, make some jokes about falling in, take some pictures and head back to the car. (These days you might also attempt a selfie, an activity that has been thinning the Gen-Y herd quite aggressively here in 2019). Then you drive for hours back to whatever highway you’d been on and put the whole dusty encounter behind you.

As a courtesy, past visitors don’t bad-mouth it to others who are thinking of visiting. Let them undertake the same aforementioned actions and draw the same lame conclusion for themselves. Shhh.

Got a very early start with no packing to do. The kids slept again later but I drove 350 miles. Stopped at Flagstaff for groceries, a picnic and Mike’s shot. Set up in a KOA at Williams and drove 60 (+60) miles to see the Grand Canyon. Windy and dirty.

Marge Binder, June 26, 1969

Here’s your chance to own a campground!

There weren’t many KOAs (Kampgrounds of America) back in the day, and Mom was keen to camp there whenever budgets afforded and a hot shower beckoned. Guess what: Today, you can own your very own KOA. Go on, sounds awesome! I’ll stop by. On my way to a Hyatt or a Marriott.

June 22, 1969: Perry’s and History

Hot and windy. Slept in the car because storms were all around us but none hit here. Had breakfast at Perry’s in Grove. Washed the car, trailer and tent. The boys swam a long time. Tim caught some channel catfish.

Marge Binder, June 22, 1969

There are a number of references Mom makes in her diary to businesses that no longer exist, not even on the internet.

In putting together this blog series, I reached out to various chambers of commerce and historical societies in places like Grove, OK and Lomita, CA without much luck. I also scoured Pinterest sites for like-minded amateur historians. That’s been fun but largely fruitless. And to those who assumed that this project involved me physically retracing the steps and stops of the 1969 journey I say: I’m obsessive to learn more, but not that obsessive.

If you’re interested to learn more about Grove, OK in the 21st Century, click here. And enjoy this postcard that captures Grove’s colorful history.

June 21, 1969: Stormy Weather


Did the washing. Grove has 10-cent double dip ice cream cones. Windy. The sky turned green about noon and it blew down the tent. Had to get a pole fixed. The boys swam. Barbecued chicken and made s’mores.

Marge Binder, June 21, 1969

This day I do remember. The tent was not small or lightweight, so it was quite a violent sight when it blew apart. We were still in the first week of this trip so I’m impressed (and inspired) that Maw kept moving west, seemingly undaunted.

And I love that Maw chose to chronicle the 10-cent double dips in Grove; it’s amazing what discount ice cream can do to a person’s disposition.

Visit this site

This graphical piece from the Washington Post is pretty spectacular. It doesn’t stretch as far back as the 60s, but you can see how increasingly robust are the nation’s extreme weather events. Looking back, I’m amazed that we didn’t encounter more instances of violent weather crossing the midwest. (These days it seems like lightning, tornados and flooding are a daily occurrence, at least according to our nation’s Doppler-armed and sensationalized meteorologists.)