Uncle Bob

Like I mentioned before, the whole point of these trips every year was for an annual family reunion at Wind River Ranch just outside of Estes Park, at least that's how these trips started. A large contingent of my family on Dad's side would congregate for ten days at the dude ranch and we would all do cowboy and Rocky Mountain activities together. For me it was always a lot of fun and I always particularly looked forward to spending time hanging out with my cousin, David, who for the most part was my best friend. But the patriarch, and de facto leader of our extended family while staying at the ranch was Uncle Bob.

Even though Uncle Bob commanded respect, and compared to Dad was infinitely more "strict", I remember him actually being very nice and gentle, not scary or unreasonable about spoiling our fun like Dad would sometimes claim. Uncle Bob was the only person who could veto Dad's shenanigans without argument, effectively resolving a tedious situation. Us kids began to recognize that while my Dad's decisions could be way more fun, Uncle Bob's decisions to counter the fun were probably for a reason, and all of us kept our mouths shut about it. For instance: like when the miniature golf game was dragging on without any foreseeable end in sight because us younger players didn't have the skill or patience to time the ball correctly through the windmill obstacle, Uncle Bob had the authority to change the rules up a bit, allowing for a temporary stoppage of the windmill and making it easier for all of us. This rule breaking was not necessarily without it's advantages, narrowing the handicap between kids and adults and giving everybody a satisfying final score.

Uncle Bob had a rare and practical sense of humor, with results that would last for years to come. One early year at Wind River Ranch, it was decided that David and I were to get proper hair cuts, fitting to young cowboys. Uncle Bob claimed to have superior hair cutting ability for boys and owned the electric clippers to prove it. David and I sat on the porch of one of the cabins and Uncle Bob proceeded to shave both our heads clean and smooth as cue balls. This was done without the prior consent or knowledge of my Aunt or my Mom, and when we revealed ourselves, pretty much everyone was both amused and shocked, and a mildly embarrassed for us boys who had to parade this indignity to the entire ranch, the rest of the cousins were also probably having a good laugh at our expense, as well as Dad and Uncle Bob who probably conspired over beers to do this and mostly likely thought this was the funniest thing to happen at Wind River ranch in years. I wouldn't be surprised if Dad suggested Mohawks for both of us (mind you this was way before the time Mohawks were mainstream and common for anybody to sport, let alone kids) I suspect what really happened was that Uncle Bob fully intended to give us regular "butch" haircuts, but his skill level and expectations got away from him and one thing led to another, a little even-ing out here, a tad more off the top... and eventually he just said "the hell with it" and took the easy way out and shaved us clean... done. Lucky for me and David we were both in the same boat with our conspicuous new look, easing the self consciousness, and also, we were cowboys and were able hide our mean looking bald heads under our cowboy hats.

Speaking of cue balls, Uncle Bob was the person who taught me to play pool. For me he was the expert at pool, he owned a real pool table at his house (unlike the dinky 1/2 size Sears pool table we had) so I reckoned he had plenty of practice and I was always eager to take his pool playing advice. Wind River Ranch had this great rec room, complete with a piano, soda machine, shuffleboard, and of course a pool table. I distinctly remember Uncle Bob instructing me the proper way to hold the cue, aim the tip of the cue at the white ball and properly hit one of the color balls to sink it into a pocket. At the time I was too small for the table and I also had this annoying habit of purposely just missing the cue ball right before I attempted to strike it. After a few minutes of me awkwardly hitting balls around without any success, most everyone else would lose patience and forbid me to play, Uncle Bob on the other hand would get out the "Granny stick", that special cue with the bridge on the end for long, across the table shots, and let me have a chance to at least sink one ball into a pocket with it's assistance. This would eventually satisfy my pool playing curiosity and I would eventually get bored and let the adults and bigger kids play without my interference. Over the years when I finally got big enough to see over the table and maneuver the cue without the "granny stick" I remembered the tips and trick Uncle Bob showed me and David and instilled the foundation for my pool playing instincts.

But one day Uncle Bob showed his control during one of our family picnic hikes into the park. It was the first year we went to Wind River Ranch without David, who was involved in a Boy Scout Jamboree that Summer and couldn't make it to Estes Park. I was terribly disappointed and found myself at a loss most of the time, hanging out with the girl cousins or making feeble attempts at making friends with other guests at the ranch. In any event I ended up doing pretty much nothing, and out of desperation I even tried taking up embroidery which the girl cousins were into, and thinking back I'm glad to say I was completely bored with this sissy activity. So on this particular hike I amused myself by collecting bits of wildlife and nature, such as poisonous mushrooms, rare wildflowers, frogs and snakes (if I could catch them), and I took along an ice bucket with me to catch and keep all my live specimens. The whole family found a nice spot next to the rushing river with plenty of rocks to sit on and opportunity to watch nature in action. The river was rushing fast but not particularly dangerous and I only needed to be mildly aware of the risks to stay out of trouble.

Toward the end of the picnic activity I was busy collecting live specimens and needed to fill my bucket with fresh river water. I had to lean down on a sloping rock and dip the bucket into the river to get the water, not realizing that when I put the bucket into the river, the current grabbed hold of the bucket and pulled me off balance, and into the river. The current was strong and whirling and quickly swept me to the other side of the river bank where I was hopelessly separated from the rest of the family, all the time I kept a tight grip on the bucket. This was immediately noticed by everybody and they all urged me to stay on the other side until something was figured out, but I took it upon myself to walk downstream and look for a suitable place to cross back over.

Only a few yards down did I notice an old fallen tree spanning the river, the log was sturdy and adequately crossing the river, it also had old worn branch stubs sticking out the entire length of the log giving it the appearance of a spiky pole, which made it both easy to grab, but somewhat dangerous in that one slip could impale a leg or other tender parts of the body. But regardless of this I attempted to cross back using this natural bridge against the protest and desperate warnings of Dad and Uncle Bob urging me to not do so, and all the time holding the bucket.

As Dad and Uncle Bob looked on helplessly I slowly creeped across the log maneuvering carefully around the spiky branches so not to stab myself in the crotch or something. Uncle Bob I remember had an exasperated look and Dad was merely annoyed. I made it exactly halfway across when I inevitably slipped and fell back into the river. I fell on the upstream side of the log which made the current push me underneath the log as I hung on, still holding the bucket. Dad came rushing to save me first and awkwardly crossed the log and tried to pull me up. The current dragging me under the log only made it more difficult and frustrating for him and he then attempted to push me under the log and try to gram me up from the other side, but doing this only made Dad fall in the water himself which prompted Uncle Bob to come to the rescue.

It was obvious Uncle Bob had no intention of getting himself wet, and was more than ticked off at me and Dad for requiring him to risk his neck to save us, but Uncle Bob quickly managed to control the situation, allowing Dad to gain control of his own predicament. The first thing Uncle Bob did was to rip the damn bucket out of my hand and fling it as far away as possible, which then allowed both him and dad to pull me up and literally drag me to shore. Dad was complaining that it was all my fault he fell in the water and that Bob only complicated the situation, Uncle Bob kept his mouth shut and suggested I stay out of the water from now on.

My Aunt and Grandmother were severely pissed-off at me at this point and Gammy proceeded to yell uncontrollably for a few minutes about my lack of judgement and ability to ruin a otherwise good picnic. After I was yelled at my Aunt and cousins explained that Gammy was upset because she loved me and was worried I was going to get hurt, but I knew better and believed she was just mad, and it was going to be a long time before she got over it.

Later, after we got to the cars, Uncle Bob approached me and admitted with some humor that cousin Bobby had stupidly fallen into the rivers on a number of occasions and needed to be saved several times, that maybe what had happened to me was just a youthful and expected rite of passage. I got the sense that he wasn't as angry at me as he led my Aunt or Gammy to think.