Rear view volume II
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Kappy’s best friend was Christy Dissing, who lived next door, and one of their favorite pastimes was creating tap dances or ballet dances with appropriate costumes. Performances were frequently given for their young neighbors, invited to attend with the added inducement of cookies and soft drinks supplied by the performers. Another of Kappy’s enjoyable events was attending Girl Scout camps near Oklahoma City. On one such occasion (not conducted by Carol, as many were) when she was about 7 or 8 years old, she impressed a number of her fellow campers (and Carol and I when we heard about it!) with two of her unofficial achievements. One was winning an impromptu contest in her tent one night as to who had the most mosquito bites, and the other was accepting a supervisor’s joking offer to let Kappy skin a snake the supervisor had killed. Carol and I of course never saw the results of Kappy’s introduction to biology (a subject in which she later majored in college), but we both had a case of the shudders when we heard about it! Summer temperatures were always miserably high, and whole-house air conditioning systems were extremely rare. Our first year in O.C. was a bad one until we heard about window air conditioners. I bought one but had difficulties installing it since it didn’t fit my window sizes. When I mentioned that at the office a draftsman who was a very good carpenter ( a “draftsman craftsman” –how appropriate!) volunteered to install it for me, and did. We were at first undecided as to where to install it, but finally settled on the master bedroom. And how marvelous that was! Hearing of our pleasure in such night time comfort, the kids requested to be allowed to sleep (on the floor) in our bedroom. We could hardly refuse, and the rest of the summer we all shared that bedroom. We later got more window conditioners for other house areas, but got used to them and none ever gave us quite as much exquisite pleasure as that first bedroom air conditioner. * * * * One of our preferred methods of coping with the summer heat was to go camping in the hill country where fresh air and cooling breezes were most apt to be found. I and my family had no interest in public campsites. We enjoyed finding our own campgrounds in rather remote wooded areas devoid of the clutter of civilized activities where we could (as the cliché says) “commune with nature”. And such campsites often provided a small element of adventure for the kiddos, frequently involving wildlife. One example occurred one summer when we decided to spend a weekend tenting in the Wichita Mountains wildlife refuge northwest of the Ft. Sill Military Reservation, in southwestern Oklahoma. We had two tents, large enough to accommodate the four of us. After cruising the refuge trails until it was almost dark we found a fine spot in the vicinity of a small creek, miles from any visible civilization or other campers. It was not a very wooded area, but had great expanses of rolling terrain well covered with a variety of wild grasses and shrubs, which gave us a fine feeling of being alone in a wilderness. On our first morning I awoke before anyone, and decided to get a fire going to be ready for breakfast for what I knew would be a hungry group of campers. I quietly dressed and exited the tent. As I went to pick up some of the firewood we’d assembled I glanced eastward to admire the sunrise, and was dumbfounded to see about two dozen buffalo grazing about a quarter mile away. I had hoped and expected to see some deer during our stay, but I had forgotten having heard that the wildlife refuge, appropriately enough, was home to such a herd. As I watched them with great interest for a few moments, I was a bit startled to realize they were slowly heading in our direction. Our campsite was in the midst of a broad patch of grass adjoining the small creek, and I realized that the buffalos’ objectives were probably both grass and water. I was not much of an authority on such critters, and I doubted that they would attack people, but I suspected they wouldn’t be as easy to shoo away as a herd of cattle. So I hurried back into the tent where Carol and Kappy were still sleeping. “Carol! Kappy! Get up and get moving,--looks like we might have some buffalo visitors here pretty quick!” Carol came to immediately. “Oh my! Might they hurt us? What’ll we do?” “I think we all better get in the car,” I replied. “ They might walk right through these tents!” Carol excitedly roused Kappy as I dashed back into the other tent. “Jerry Mike! Get up quick,--a herd of buffalo is coming!” He woke up slowly. “What? What did you say, Dad?” “I said a whole batch of buffalo are headed here, and we need to get in the car in case they decide to waltz through our camp.” Jerry M. settled back in his sleeping bag and said, “Aw, Dad,--this is a funny way to wake me up. Some joke! There aren’t any buffalo in this country any more.” I said, “Get up and see. And hurry! We need to get in the car.” He finally did get up, got dressed with some mumbled complaints, and I led all three of them out were they could view the slowly approaching hairy horned horde. They were astounded, especially the kids who had never seen a live buffalo before outside a zoo.Their jaws hung open momentarily; finally, “Wow!” from Kappy, and “Holy smoke!” from Jerry Mike. We all assembled in the car, and in about ten or fifteen minutes the animals were arriving in our area, cutting a wide swath as they grazed and slowly meandered toward the nearby small creek. About a half dozen headed directly into our campsite, apparently unconcerned by the presence of the tents. “Toot the horn!” said Carol, “Maybe that will scare those away.” But I was dubious about doing so. “I’m afraid if they do scare they might spook and run right through the tents.” So I didn’t honk. Two or three managed to stumble over the tents’ stake ropes but not badly enough to topple the tents. They came quite close to the car and inspected it, but I was thankful they didn’t consider it was any hazard and nudge or butt it with their horns. Eventually the herd moved on through to the creek with minimal damage to our camping facilities. But we decided not to risk the chance of another possibly more hazardous visit the following night, and we packed up and headed home, --an exciting weekend that provided good conversational material with our friends. By early in our O.C. stay I had worked the ten years with Carter to qualify me for three weeks of vacation, which we could divide between Wisconsin visits and other trips and camping ventures. We began doing some of the latter in Colorado, and found many good non-public campsites in the mountains and aspen forests. On one occasion we selected a rather remote spot in the San Isabel National Forest near a sparsely inhabited village named Cuchara, which is 28 miles north of the Colorado-New Mexico state line and 28 miles east of the center of that line. (“Cuchara” means “spoon” in Spanish; the use of this word for a town name is puzzling.) We arrived about 6 p.m. and after unloading camp equipment, setting up tents, and laying a circle of fire control rocks around our campfire area, we had supper and enjoyed a hike through the surrounding aspen forest. After a good night’s sleep we exited the tent the following morning to find that our grub box and other food containers had been trashed and looted. “Good grief!” exclaimed Carol. “Wow!” and “Gosh!” echoed the kids and “Damn!” said I. After some discussion and analysis we concluded that a bear must have done the deed, since no other animal resident of that forest would have been big enough to upend the big grub box and scatter our camp equipment quite so thoroughly. Breakfast was rather minimal, with much of the food scattered or inedible. The ice chest was knocked over and the milk in it spilled; the box of cornflakes was ripped open and what hadn’t been eaten was strewn on the ground, as were the remains of our bacon and eggs supply. But the kids were too excited to be very hungry anyway. Jerry M. said, “I’m glad he found some food outside so he didn’t come in our tent to sample us!” After we had cleaned the camp up a bit we took an inventory of our remaining food supply and decided we’d have to drive to Walsenburg (another 28 mile distance!) for replenishments.(On our trip in I had noticed there was no grocery in Cuchara.) Carol was rather dubious about being able to drive through the narrow and extremely rocky wagon trail we had come in on, so I suggested she stay in camp with the kids and I would drive. “Hey,” exclaimed J.M., “ Kappy and I don’t want to stay here. Can’t we go?” “Wait a minute!” said Carol. “Suppose the bear comes back for lunch while you’re gone. He might come back to look in the tent and I sure can’t climb a tree.” “I don’t think he’d try to hurt you, hon. You could probably scare him off.” Carol finally agreed to stay, I agreed to take the kids, and off we went.
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Chapter V: Tulsa (1959-1961) Seven years in one place with Carter was a record for us, and we began wondering where the next move might take us. Our few years’ stay in Wyoming, our frequent trips to western states, and our numerous visits and vacation camping trips in Colorado, had given us a love of the West, so we hoped I’d be sent to Denver to replace Dick Hicklin, and not to the Eastern Division office in Mattoon, Illinois, nor the Southern Division in Shreveport, Louisiana. But neither move was to be. In early 1959 we were returned to Tulsa, with my assignment to be in Carter’s headquarters office. We were quite happy to be again in Tulsa, and my new job had rather exotic implications,--Chief of Foreign Geophysics! I was flattered to have my name and title added to Carter’s headquarters stationery letterhead, and the nature of the job would be an interesting change to a more adventurous work style. In those days Standard of New Jersey, which operated worldwide through a variety of subsidiary companies (e.g., Creole in Venzuela, Imperial in Canada, etc.), conducted exploration in many countries by the use of geophysical crews. Geophysics included the use of such instruments as magnetometers and gravity meters to ascertain the nature of subterranean rock formations, but at the time of my new job the great majority of the geophysical work involved seismograph crews and equipment designed to set off explosive charges in shallow holes at planned intervals. The energy reverberations from buried rock layers would be registered on recording devices planted at the surface. The subterranean differences in height of prominent rock layers occurring from station to station might hopefully indicate the presence of buried anticlines or fault ruptures which geologists might interpret as being potentially oil producing. A typical seismograph crew would include a truck-mounted drill and personnel to drill shallow holes and install and detonate explosives in them. An Operator with perhaps an assistant would supervise and interpret the resulting recordings and plan the layouts of dozens of cable-connected surface recorders (“jugs”). These had to be moved and reinstalled after every “shot” along a continuous mapped line where data was to be obtained. The moving of recorders was done by several “jug hustlers”. Total personnel would typically be about thirteen. The initial assignment in my new job was to prepare a new contract detailing all the mutually agreeable terms and financial arrangements which would regulate the loaning of geophysical crews by Carter to Jersey. The previous contract had become out-dated by some deficiencies which often caused operational problems frequently requiring intra-company conferences and negotiations. This required me to spend quite a bit of learning time conferring with Carter’s headquarters geophysicists and accountants, but after about a week or ten days of head scratching and pencil pushing I finally produced a contract of which the Carter managers approved, as did Jersey representatives after I had a quick visit with them in New York. Thereafter my job duties mostly involved the logistics and approval of crew assignments and facilities, and personnel placements and records. To do so it was advisable to visit the geophysicists locally in charge of the crew operations, so I enjoyed occasional visits to South America, Europe, and Africa. More on these later. * * * * We assumed we’d be in Tulsa for a lengthy stay this time, in Carter’s headquarters group regardless of specific job assignments. So we bought a large house on a corner lot at 4310 East 53rd St., where I did some extensive yard work and planted numerous trees. I assigned a space in the back yard to Jerry M. for his vegetable garden, and I think his fine results there were probably the origin of his love of gardening for many subsequent years. Our move had some disadvantages for all of us, however. We all regretted leaving the many friends we’d acquired during seven years in Oklahoma city. The kiddos, now in the seventh and ninth grades, found it a bit hard to get adjusted to the big new schools, especially with their fraternities and sororities at the Junior High level. And we found it hard to get acquainted with our neighbors who were not like the outgoing and sociable ones we’d had in O.C. and previously in Tulsa. But one of our compensations for being with a major company was that in spite of numerous moves we always knew some of the other employees to socialize with. One notable addition to the Kyle family in Tulsa was a female puppy we named Chica. Carol and the kids had gone to the SPCA and after inspecting the numerous candidates for adoption decided a young Border Collie was the cutest and friendliest of all, and took her home. That night we introduced her to all of us. We all sat in a big circle on the floor in the club room and deposited Chica in the middle. Chica was obviously ecstatically happy to be out of the SPCA kennel, and ran to each of us in turn, leaping into our laps, licking our hands or faces, and telling us with body language how happy she was to be in our family. The first few nights we let her sleep in the garage, then in the utility, and finally in the club room. She was easily trained to follow proper hygiene procedures, and always stayed where told to in the house. At Christmas that year (1959) we decided to drive to Wisconsin and be with our folks and the Smatlaks. We had recently bought a new car, a big beautiful gray Buick that was artfully decorated with a black top and long curved black panels along the sides. We had never been on a long trip in it before, and greatly enjoyed the passenger room and riding comfort. But we didn’t get to show it to our folks. On the day before Christmas, as we were cruising through mid-Iowa near Forest City and Carol was driving, we encountered a long stretch of icy U.S. highway 69. For quite a way we were behind a slow moving large truck, and Carol finally decided to pass. The truck was too big for us to see ahead of it, but as Carol cautiously began to maneuver around it we could suddenly see an oncoming car. Carol began to slow and ease back behind the truck, but the ice kept her from turning back into our lane and we suddenly had a crashing head-on collision! We all got bruised, the worst being Kappy who was in the front passenger seat, and was thrown severely against the dashboard. (We unfortunately weren’t using seat belts.) But the only serious injury was suffered by the wife of the other car’s driver; she was thrown forward like Kappy but her head smashed out the windshield, and she also suffered a broken knee cap. Our car was totalled, and we had to stay overnight in a motel in Forest City. The next day I was able to rent a car to finish our trip and use the few days we were in Wisconsin. I can’t now recall how we eventually got back to Tulsa,--whether we kept the rental car or flew, or what. I eventually bought a Ford Fairlane to replace that fine Buick. * * * * By early 1960 we were established in some social circles with quite a few new acquaintances (mostly Carter employees), and had renewed association with friends we had known before in Tulsa. One enjoyable activity we and three other couples we’d long known was a monthly dinner meeting hosted by each couple in turn. Two couples lived in Oklahoma City,-- T.P. (“Tepee”) and Mary Woodward, and Francis and Gloria Stewart. Our Tulsa partners were Bill and Robbie Bramlette. All the men were geologists. The ladies had once taken issue with some menu suggestions some of we men had made at an initial get together, and had challenged the men to take over future dinners and do better. In an irresponsible and liquor lubricated mood the men agreed to henceforth do so,-- plan menus, prepare and serve dinners, and do dishes afterward.. And the only obligation of the women, we specified jokingly, would be to repaint the kitchen after-ward.. So from then on dinners were prepared and hosted exclusively by the men, in cooperation with each other, and we agreed among ourselves that each dinner would have a menu based on a foreign theme. I thought our dinner group ought to have a name, and since I mentioned the matter I was voted to christen it. I have always liked acronyms that would form a word that would suggest the organization’s objectives, so after considerable thought I came up with a title with an acronym that would doubtless appeal to the ladies It was: Inter-City Chapter of the Fraternal Order Of International Epicures,with the acronym of ICC FOOIE,--which as two words might conceivably be a lady’s comment after tasting some of our concoctions. The name was unanimously approved by both the men and women. We had some unusual dinners with foreign dishes that took some research to produce, and most of our culinary creations were more or less edible. But we four men often had some unusual experiences as we tried to interpret foreign recipe specifications. On one occasion at the Woodward’s T.P. thought a Cajun menu would be appropriate since he was from Louisiana. We assembled the sauces and spices without undue trouble, and were ready to cook the rice to go with it. His kitchen had a big supply of rice in a large jar, but we couldn’t spot any recipe for cooking it. “No trouble,” said T.P., “I know that all we have to do is put it in a big pot of boiling water and cook it until tender. But I’m not sure how much we may need. What do you guys think?” After some discussion the consensus of opinion was that a cupful of rice per person might be enough, cooked in a huge kettle T.P. had found in the pantry. And it was! We ended up with cooked rice all over the stove, the floor, and most everywhere in the kitchen. The ladies never understood why we had to spend so much time after dinner cleaning up the kitchen, and we never told them. One of the dinners I hosted was with an East Indian theme. Bramlette and I had some difficulty trying to find East Indian recipes in any cookbook, and at that time we could find no East Indian restaurants in Tulsa to consult with. We finally went to the public library and after some food research got enough ideas for our purpose. One menu included “Bombay Duck” as a recommended item, but we couldn’t find any cookbook that told how to prepare a duck in “Bombay” style. So we began shopping for pre-cooked ready- to-serve ducks of that category in a few grocery stores that included foreign foods. But we had no luck in finding any, or even anyone who knew what we were talking about. We’d decided to switch to another main entrée when we somehow heard about a small restaurant in a remote section of town, populated mostly by recent immigrants, that did include some East Indian dishes in their menu. We went to find it, and were greeted at the door by a friendly young fellow who offered us a couple of printed menus “Thanks.” I said, “but we’re not here to eat. We’re wanting some information about an East Indian recipe for cooking duck Bombay style, if you wouldn’t mind us asking.” And I went on to explain about the dinner party we were planning. The man laughed. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a recipe for cooking ducks, but we do serve Bombay Duck here, and I could sell you some. But you obviously don’t know what it is. It’s a type of cooked and spiced fish, served as an accessory dish,--not a main entrée.”After some embarrassed laughter on our part, we decided to buy some. We ultimately served it and it was rather delicious. Our main dish was also pretty good,--East Indian Chicken Curry, the recipe for which we had found in our library research. To add to our dinner theme we served Singapore Slings, and for dessert we listed on the printed menu “Yogi Berries” and “Mahatma Candy”. (We actually served cake, but we liked the puns.) The “Nightcap” was listed as “Sparkling Alka Seltzer, en carafe”.We also added to the main menu a supplement section labeled “Today’s Diet Special (for no-guts guests)” which read “Try Our Omar Khayyam Slenderizer: Jug of wine; Loaf of Bread; Thou.” And to add to the East Indian atmosphere I donned a white towel headdress and full black beard while I read my rather long poetic creation titled “Thoughts on Board the Ruby Yacht of Omar Kyleham”, describing some of the interesting features of living in India. (Copy on next page.) It was a good party. In addition to the ICC-FOOIE dinners, Carol and I enjoyed staging parties with some unusual themes, at our home both in Tulsa and later in Houston. Some of the classics that the many guests enjoyed included such ones as our “Going-To-The-Moon” party (after NASA’s first man-on-the-moon event) and our beatnick era bash (where the invitations decorated with my appropriate cartoons read, “Hey—feel like you’re a little Beat, Nick? Well, then,--better come to our Greenwich Village Party, at the Kyle pad.”) One of the best was in Tulsa,--our Hallowe’en Treasure Hunt. It was a big production with 36 guests, that took a lot of advance planning and preparation. I had selected 20 locations scattered throughout suburban areas and edges of Tulsa where I planted clues, each of which would in rhyme direct the finder to the next clue. Carol and I grouped the treasure hunters in parties of 4 each, with all married couples split up into different units. After administering everyone a drink or two to get them in the mood, each party was given a different numbered clue in an envelope which they could open and study after the start of the hunt was announced. (Each party was given a clue to a different location so they wouldn’t all be arriving at a clue location more or less together and simply follow each other from clue to clue.) The hunters were told that there were exactly 20 clues hidden, each to be left intact after being read, and that the winning party would be the one who returned with a correct description of the 20th clue they encountered.in their sequence. (I had previously recorded each party’s sequence of clue finding, so none could report back and describe, say, the 18th or 19th as being the 20th , since my records would show which the 20th would be for each party’s sequence.) Download 0.54 Mb. Share with your friends:
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