Pie Boys

My dad was the oldest of eight with five younger brothers, three of whom were life-long bachelors. I suppose he too would have remained a bachelor had the loneliness and separation experienced in WWII not changed his heart. Some may doubt this statement concluding this change is merely the transition of a spoiled, selfish boy who finally grows up into a responsible man. No, not so! Hearing dad talk, (though never complaining) about his childhood experience, I've concluded that growing up in a large family, existing in poor and crowded conditions all you dream of is your own space.

Front row: 2nd from right is Uncle Ivan
Front row: 4th from right is Uncle Bob
Sun Valley Snow-cat Operators 1960's

Two of my eternal bachelor uncles, Ivan and Bob "Stubs" visited our home often. Both of these gentlemen loved pie. Pie? Yes, not just any pie, it had to be my mom's homemade apple pie.

Like waterfowl tracking an ancient migration route, they always knew when there was a fresh pie in our house. Looking back, I'm not sure if they ever knocked on the door or if they just let themselves in. I do recall they'd typically come as they were -- all covered in hay, grease, snow, or mud.

What I remember clearly was their love for apple pie and coffee. With the insatiable appetite of a bachelor, they cut right to the chase. Bypassing the niceties of even a casual "hello" they both would blurt out the same question to my mom. "Got any pie Trudy?"

The question really seemed more like a statement or a demand rather than a request. Though they never visited together, the question seemed rehearsed and staged to be delivered identically with the same cadence and timing from both of them. I am sure they collaborated on the most effective statement for being served a plate of pie, never thinking this would wear on the thin nerves of the tiny cook. Typically, after pie, they'd ask for a cup of coffee and then more pie and then quite often....dinner!

With the advent of the mid 1960's came the health food craze. Mom read and applied all of Adelle Davis' recommendations cited in her well known works, Let's Eat Right to Keep Fit and Let's Get Well. By this time my dad was pre-diabetic and he had to watch his sugars. Even though the desserts stopped, the apple pie remained. The healthy modifications of whole wheat, honey, and fresh butter didn't seem to deter the uncles. In fact, since it was health food they boldly asked for a quarter pie slice rather than the usual sliver.

sialia artica and I

Sialia artica, the mountain bluebird, became the official state bird of Idaho in 1931.
My dad who had a fondness for pointing them out to me, was born in Idaho eight years earlier.
I have his eyes.
A large, clear blue set of orbs that can spot the small thrush species feeding on berries at 200 yards. Kind eyes that can see the good in most everyone and everything.

My gentle parents who loved to explore the outdoors often called me Bluebird; a sweet nickname to complement the formality of my given name, Cynthia.
Like the mountain bluebird, I was born in the American West with adventurous pioneer genetics, consistently displaying traits of an independent spirit.

My family was close and we spent quality time together whether it was week nights at the dinner table or on weekend sojourns. Learning was encouraged so the six of us took time to satisfy our innate curiosities. Weekends and vacations were endless explorations where we spent the days hiking, rock hounding, camping, hunting, bouldering, skiing, gold panning, swimming the clear rivers and high country lakes, and poking around ghost towns. In the evenings, we relived the adventures relating through stories, laughter, and at times....tears.

Moments and memories make up the stories of our lives. Stories build a foundation for future generations of story tellers. It is healthy to reflect, reminisce, and reconstruct stories. It is true, as it has been said that reflection is an art and a science that takes time. Time, a perishing commodity and one that lacks in most contemporary lives. Sieze the passing moments, take the time. And then, be like the colorfully plumed bluebird with a distinctive song...bringing beauty, meaning, and love to someones heart with a story of life.