"The bluest skies you've ever seen are in Seattle, and the green's the greenest green in Seattle..." When Pat received orders in early 1967, we were both elated to learn that we would be going to the west coast. "U.S. Naval Shipyard, Bremerton, Washington", he was beaming as he read the directive.
Moving across country with four small children might be overwhelming to some people, but when you are military, you are somehow always prepared to be uprooted, just when you begin to feel settled. There was no actual hard labor involved in the packing and moving, as the military takes care of it all. If you pack-up grandma's fine, hand-me-down china, they will unpack it and do it over. The biggest challenge was planning and packing for a four or five day trek with three active boys and a baby.
We loaded up the big 1965 Pontiac station wagon and off we were, on another of our many family adventures. To make room in the wagon, we strapped a couple of the suitcases to the rack on the roof. Who ever heard of seat-belts? "It's my turn to sit in the way-back", one of the boys would howl, as another was climbing over the back seat. Pat would drive during the day while I tried to keep the kids amused. "Oh, we don't know where we're goin', but we're goin' just the same, and we'll follow the lead of the raggedy man who doesn't know his name", we'd sing. I would drive at night while Pat and the kids slept. I enjoyed the peace and quiet, the calm of the night. It was like having a life free of the every-day hassle of doing dishes, chasing balls and wiping noses. This was MY time. I was humming along to the soft radio music when all of a sudden I felt a 'thump, thump, thump'. As I slowed the car, I could see debris fling through the air. "What the heck was that?" Pat hollered as he woke abruptly from his sound sleep. I pulled the car off the highway to a stop. By now the kids were all awake and the baby was crying. As soon as I stepped out of the car I saw a little hand tooled leather belt hanging from the antenna and I realized that my children's clothes were scattered up and down the highway. It was 2:00 AM, so there was no traffic. I could not stop laughing as we gathered up two suitcases and as many clothes as we could find. We made room for all of it in the way-back, where it should have been stowed in the first place.
After a brief visit with my folks in Butte, we continued on to Washington . My brother had moved to Seattle in 1962 and his family had grown quite a bit since the last time I saw them. He had five children now, between the ages of fourteen and two-and-a-half. It was like a three ring circus when we arrived with our four kids. I ventured to take all nine of the kids on the ferry from Seattle across the Puget Sound to Bremerton. A kindly, older gentleman watched us curiously as we boarded the boat. As I got them all seated on a bench and handed out snacks, the old fellow approached me. "Hey," he inquired, "Are these ALL your kids?" "Oh, no sir, the rest of them are home with their dad," I replied, trying hard to deep a straight face.
My husband bought an 18-foot fishing boat. He was excited to be able to take it out on the Hood Canal. He and my brother came back after a long day of fishing with a magnificent 15 pound salmon. I had dinner on the table, so I told them, "Just throw it in the bath tub and you can clean it after dinner." I sent the kids in to wash-up and we could hear them oohing and awing over the big fish. When we finished eating, the guys headed to the bathroom to take care of their magnanimous catch. "Oh, my God," I heard Pat gasp. It seems that my son, Don, had decided that a fish shouldn't be out of water, so he had filled the tub with HOT water. There staring up at the proud fishermen was a perfectly poached, UN-gutted salmon. Well, so much for my grilled salmon recipe!