"Bones" - The Original Series

From what I gather, there is a popular television series called "Bones". This crime procedural drama has just concluded its eleventh season and is slated for a twelfth and final season. Having neither television or Netflix and not subscribing to Hulu or any of the other video on demand sites, Wikipedia was consulted and trusted for this information.

Although "Bones" seems to be a very popular series, I must let my millions of blog readers in on a little known fact. It is not an original series...

In the early 70's, for some strange reason, I became interested in bones. Archaeology has always intrigued me and since it really is a short step from Archaeology to Osteology... My "Ologys" may have become somewhat muddled!

This phase of my life was probably a real shock to my Mom...when she started to clean and straighten up my closet... The top shelf was dedicated to my bone and teeth collection! To her credit, she didn't get hysterical and think that a dog with three heads, four ribs and seventy three teeth had died and decayed in her youngest son's closet. She took it in stride and let it remain as long as it didn't stink.

It so happened, that when I was in this chapter of my life, my Dad bought the old Oak Grove schoolhouse. Oak Grove was a one-room schoolhouse that was closed when it was consolidated into the Junction Hill school district. Its location was on Highway 160, right across the road from where my brother Ralph now turns off to go to his house.

The school building had been converted into a house but was in such a state of disrepair that Dad decided to just tear it down. After we had torn it down to the floor, which was setting on rock pillars, things got very interesting.

As we began tearing up the floor and exposing what was beneath, a virtual "animal graveyard" was brought to light! Bones of every shape and size...Skulls, teeth, little mouse bones, big raccoon bones... I collected bones until it was time to quit and go home! Another shelf had to be cleared off and my new collection moved in! My poor Mother....

A real life mystery happened during this "Bony" phase of my childhood. Late one Sunday evening after church, we came driving up to our house at Junction Hill... And right in the middle of the driveway, where we parked the car, was an honest to goodness, bleached out white, teeth still intact, COW SKULL! Glory Be!!

Now... Mom drew the line at the cow skull... No! Not in the house!

It took us an hour or so but we finally unraveled the mystery. It seems that my Uncle Marion and Aunt Janice Riggs had gotten wind of their nephew's budding aspirations to be an Anthropologist...and decided to advance my career! That afternoon, they had been driving around on some property they owned, found the cow skull, knew we would be in church, and placed it right where we would be sure to find it!

To this day, I vividly remember our puzzlement in finding a cow skull in our driveway, the boneyard at the old Oak Grove schoolhouse and my foray into "Bones" (The Original Series!)

The Country Boys That Went To Town

When I was a boy and we lived at the Farley house, we were exactly three miles east of the West Plains city limits. It might as well been thirty.

I was "country-fied" to the core and to be called a cityslicker would have been more of an insult than I could've endured. The city did have its allure though.

There was the Dairy Princess Drive-in, Mo's Drive-in and Kinder's Burger Inn for starters. For things non-food there was Western Auto, Otasco, Firestone, Sterlings and... Aid Hardware. And there was another draw toward the big city, Momo and Popo's house on West Main!

My big brother Ralph and I had been asking Dad and begging Mom to let us "ride our bikes to town". There was and still is a wanderlust in both of us and to hit the open road on our bikes was just the height of adventure. Dad wasn't hard to convince (we get our wanderlust from him I suppose.) But convincing Mom? This was a tad more difficult and just like most things in life, required compromise.

We were prepared to take the paved county road west to U.S. Highway160 and follow this highway right into town, thru town and finally wind up at my Grandma and Grandpa Riggs' house on West Main... Take the High Road so to speak.

When this plan was broached to Mom, she immediately saw us splattered out on the highway by a speeding semi truck... Adolescent road-kill that would have to be scraped up off the pavement, placed in a closed casket and properly mourned and buried.

So... We compromised...

Dad and Mom mapped us out a route that would require us to ride a minimal amount of time on the highway and would take us down less traveled, lonely back roads. Please note that in that day and time (early 70's) no consideration was given to the possibility of being abducted by some crazed, deviate person along our "road less traveled by."

We were to take the paved county road, west to Highway 160, Ride-Down-The-Right-Of-Way...Not-On-The-Pavement, to the gravel crossroad. Go south on this gravel road to the first gravel road to the west. Go west to the first gravel road south and take this road south 'til it turned west and then just follow it west toward town. Once we were on East Olden Street, by the High School, we were to go to the intersection and turn south on Howell Street and follow it straight to Grace Avenue (This was before the Broadway extension made a bend in Howell Avenue.) When we got to Grace Avenue, we were to turn west and go to Walnut Street, go south to Leyda Street and follow it west, over the big hill and down to Arkansas Street, go north on Arkansas to Garrett Street and then west to Harlin Drive. Once we were on Harlin, we could ride north a block to West Main and then we were in sight of Momo and Popo's house! (You can see the map of our journey here )

We sallied forth, fairly early in the day... "Don and Sancho" on our "Rocinate's", ready for the open road!   I had a single speed "Moto-cross" bicycle and Ralph had a three-speed with curled racing handlebars. We followed the pre-planned route and just took our time. It was a pretty uneventful trip and for some reason, the only part that I really remember is the leg of the journey that took us down Grace Avenue. We made it to Momo's kitchen in time for lunch and then out the door to ride bikes with some of the kids on West Main.

Inevitably, our play soon turned into full scale bike racing. The "Country" vs. the "City". I didn't fair so well but Ralph pretty well whupped everybody on the street, even the ten-speed racers! This continued until it was time for supper and all the neighbor kids had to go home.

Our plans were to spend the night with our grandparents, so Mom and Dad were going to bring our "overnight things" later that evening. After supper, while there was still daylight, we decided to go visiting.

We jumped on our bikes and rode up Garrett Street west, to the top of the hill, turned south down Pine Street and went to the house on the west side of the street, at K highway. This was where my Uncle Marion and Aunt Janice Riggs lived. Again, for some reason this part of our adventure just sticks out in my mind. We stayed long enough to get a drink, visit a few minutes and then back down the hill to Momo and Popo's house.

We spent the night, (loudly entertained by Popo's snoring) and woke up the next morning, ready to go home. We didn't make the return trip on our bikes though. Dad came by, picked us (and our bikes) up and we traveled home in style...already planning our next traveling adventure!

A Porcine Phenomenon

An equinox occurs every spring and autumn. The plane of the equator, passes directly thru the sun and every person in the northern and southern hemispheres has a perfect day - an equal amount of sun and darkness. There are other celestial wonders that occur only once in a lifetime, like Hally's Comet.

Sometime though, the terrestrial powers that be, wield their influence, and you have an honest to goodness "Porcine Phenomenon".

We were traveling home on 160 highway from a long, hot summer day of surveying in the "Big Woods" in western Oregon County. My brother Ralph, Rolan Norsworthy and I, had been following an empty cattle trailer, (traveling very slowly) for a few miles and had made it over "Radio City Hill", when everything started going south.

About the time we made it to the flat, past the little hill in front of the radio station, the back gate on the cattle trailer swung open... And Behold!, we discovered that the cattle trailer was not empty!

While all of us watched with utter amazement and amusement, a huge Yorkshire sow came wandering back to the now open gate! She stood at the edge of the trailer and looked down at the highway speeding past her nose at 40 miles per hour...

Hold on! There's more... While the old sow stood placidly looking out the back of the trailer, about six or seven little piglets wandered back and lined up right beside Mammy!

By this time, our driver, Rolan, had begun to flash his headlights and honk at the truck pulling the "Piggy" trailer, trying to get him to stop. And the pigs continued to be blissfully unaware of the catastrophe lurking mere inches from their snouts!

The driver of the truck finally figured out that something was amiss and pulled over at Allen street, right at the city limits. And that was where the fun began...

When the truck and trailer stopped rolling, we were right behind it to try to keep the pig and piglets IN the trailer. It worked really well... with the piglets. The old sow however? She saw the open gate for what it was... FREEDOM!!!

The very second that the trailer stopped rolling she was out and makin' tracks for Arkansas!

We piled out of our truck and were joined by the pig's owner and some other men that had stopped, in an impromptu (un-greased) Pig Scramble! Whoa Nellie! We chased her down the street, across yards, through business parking lots, all the while trying to keep her from going across the traffic on Highway 160. In a few minutes, there were enough of us to corner her and then, (if it were possible) things got even more exciting.

It was time to decide how best to get her back into the trailer. We had already seen how herding her went down. So we decided just to CARRY her back to the trailer... Remember, this is a sow and she will weigh 500-600 pounds!

We didn't want to get bit so the handiest thing at the front end was ears. So two men latched onto an ear apiece. The rear end provided three handholds... two legs and the tail. The only person I vividly remember with a hand on the pig was Ralph...he had a back leg.

Did you know that pigs squeal? Did you also know that a pig's squealer goes into overdrive when they are picked up and unceremoniously carried?

Did you also know that a pig can kick with it's back legs? The very instant the old sow went airborne, she started kicking! Not little, slow, soft kicks... But rapid fire, bone jarring, honest to goodness piggy kicks! Poor ole Ralph's teeth were chattering, his head was rattling, his arms were being jerked a-mile-a-minute and all while trying to hustle toward the back of the trailer!

When we got her to the back of the trailer, another problem arose. How do you put her in without her immediately turning around and escaping again? The little piglets had been herded behind a cross gate in the trailer so there was no danger of them escaping... So we decided a "Bacon Launch" would do just fine.

We stood at the of the trailer and did the old "One-Two-Three!" and sent old porker sailing into the trailer and quickly slammed the back gate shut!

The pig's owner thanked us, we climbed back into the truck and continued on to the office... Tired but satisfied that we had done our good deed for the day...

A One-Legged Tripod

Years ago, when a newbie came to work on my survey crew, there were always a couple of questions I asked; And one or two points of understanding to be stressed if they worked with me. One of the questions was "Do you know how to drive a standard shift?" Sending a guy back to drive the truck around, only to have him return...walking, because he can't drive a stick shift is not the way to win friends and influence the crew chief!

One point of understanding with a new crew member?... Don't talk to people and try to explain what we're doing! I've just about had to fight my way out of a couple of situations because of a blabber mouth.

Another thing I stressed was not being afraid to use the tools and instruments. My standard statement was "If you tear it up or mess it up, I can probably fix it."

Through the years I have been called on to prove myself... I have bent a 60d traverse nail into a wrench, with a hammer, in the middle of the wilderness; to tighten a loose bolt on a tripod. When a leaf spring breaks on an old International Scout... out in the boonies? A steel "T" post makes a dandy replacement if you don't mind the rough ride!

And if necessity is the Mother of invention, one particular day, Momma needed to give birth.

I was working on a project in the Mark Twain National Forest near Willow Springs, setting Forest boundary corners. My "Modus Operandi" was to start with the corner farthest from the truck and then work my way back throughout the day. On this particular day, the first corner was a few miles off the beaten path and a couple of miles off the not so beaten path.

My helpee and I left the truck, with "all" our equipment loaded on the four-wheeler. We drove county roads, forest roads, logging trails, cow paths and then took off thru the woods. When we arrived at the corner location, the remoteness made me feel like I was "about a quarter of a mile from the end of the world."

We began to unload all the tools we would need to set the monument. Aluminum monument, post hole diggers, spud bar, metal post, monument sign, sign bolts, witness tree tags, aluminum nails, PK nails, hatchet and scribe.

Since this was a calculated corner position, we were going to "set up" on two previously established GPS positions and "turn in" the corner with the total station. I unloaded the total station and walked to the back basket of the four-wheeler to get the tripod.

The tripod...

It's hard to explain the emotions of that moment. There is a fleeting sense of panic when you think of your beloved tripod lying mangled in the road because you didn't strap it down on the bike and it bounced off. Then there is anger... at yourself, for forgetting such an important piece of equipment. And then there is resignation. What do we do now?

I could send the helpee back and get it but who knows if he could find his way... let alone get back. I could go back and get it but that would take at least an hour. We could just pack up and go back to the truck and set this corner another day (this option was gaining quite a bit of traction in my mind!)

Or... I could follow my own precept and find a way to "fix it".

In my CMT MC-V data collector with "C&G Software" installed, there was a function called "Resection". This function allowed you to set your instrument up at a remote position, within sight of at least two points with known coordinates, and determine the coordinates of the remote position. This was accomplished using a combination of distance and angle measurements (which was done in the brain of the MC-V data collector).

Having no tripod to set at a "remote position", I chose a 4" Red Oak tree which was reasonably straight at the base. Now... I had forgotten the tripod... but I hadn't forgotten my chainsaw! So I proceeded to cut the tree down at about the four foot height, so it would be reasonably stable.

After the tree was down and the top of the stump had been cut fairly flat and level, it was time to "set up the instrument.

I drove a short "PK" nail in the top center of the stump. This was to replace the "Dingfodus" on the tripod that threaded into the "Ji-Widdler" in the bottom of the instrument which kept it attached to the tripod (I hope all these technical terms are not too confusing.) After I set the instrument on the "PK" on top of the stump, it was still way too unsteady and "loose".

In the absence of  duck tape and baling wire, bungee straps come in a tight third as a Redneck Band-aid. There were several bungee straps on the basket of the four-wheeler so I incorporated them into my contraption. I drove four 60d nails into the stump, two on a side, opposite each other, a foot or so below the instrument. Then I "cross-stretched" two bungee straps across the base of the instrument and hooked the ends to the nails. She was solid as a Rock!

Now all I had to do was resection in from the two GPS points, establish the position of the corner, set the monument and continue the day.

Did I mention that the stump was about four feet tall? And the instrument is maybe a foot tall? Putting the total height of the instrument at about five foot.

I'm six feet five inches tall... I just about pulled a kink in my back, bending over to look thru the instrument and turn the corner in! But, since this was seemingly the only flaw in my rustic creation, I was pretty proud.

Proud enough to chronicle in photograph and prose for posterity, the story of the "One-Legged Tripod"...