Cousin Joe Departs

Mount Lassen. (Tanya photo 2008)

Cousin Joe Calvin Clayton Junior made his departure from his body recently.

If I remember the family history right--cousin Joe Calvin Junior, as we called him, was just about my age which is always a thought provoking coincidence--I think.

Our paths hadn't crossed in years, but I remember him vividly as a ten-year old kid living in easy walking distance of the tidal flats of mythical San Diego which, both flats and town, have vanished so very completely that even in my memory's imagination I can hardly recall them.

But ten-year-old Joe is always easy to remember.

He was loaded with charm-- with bushy blond hair and a pug nose and a sort of suntanned ten-year-old athletic build which I admired--and a very California Beach Kid grown up style--for example he called girl's breasts "Knockers" which I thought was VERY fast!

I was just an Albuquerque, New Mexico boy--years behind California Cousin Joe!

We spent some very good times together during summer vacations in those days!

Grandpa Clayton, Mom's dad, with some other adults, took Cousin Joe and my brother Joe and I with him on a great adventure to Northern California--we planned to spend a week at a real gold mine owned by a friend of Grandpa's somewhere in the northern mountains but that turned out to be a pretty dry and dusty place so we went on to Emerald Bay on Lake Tahoe and camped out there for a week.

Kid bliss!

Early one morning Brother Joe said we three kids could probably hike to the snow, which we had seen on the mountaintops as we arrived, and get back to the campground by lunch--so off we went.

There was a sort of a trail part of the way and when it ran out we continued cross country and uphill for a long time. Me, the least heroic of the three musketeers, started complaining that I was hungry and that we had walked quite enough, but brother Joe insisted that the snow couldn't be much further and cousin Joe agreed that it couldn't be much farther--and on and on we hiked.

We came to a beautiful little lake of delicious cold water and from there we could see the snow on a rocky slope on the far side of the lake and on up the mountain.

To go back after seeing the tantalizing snow patch far above us would simply not do--so we scrambled around the lake and struggled up the sharp rocks of the mountainside. Brother Joe (the young naturalist of the group) found some dark stones which contained garnet crystals, he said, which was a big thrill for him--and he explained to us how rare they were and how lucky we were to actually find them!

And we reached the snow--dirty and much the worst for wear late in the summer as it was--but it WAS real frozen snow in the middle of summer!

But it was long past lunch time--in fact evening was drawing on--and even Brother Joe started thinking that we might be missed back at Grandpa's camp--so we began hurrying back down the mountain.

There was a subtle noise in the bushes above us and we suddenly remembered that there were bears in these mountains--and we began to run--first easily and then as fear prodded us--to run for our lives!

When we came panting and gasping back into camp, Grandpa and the adults of our party were so happy to see us that they didn't scold us much--but just told us to "always tell them first where we were going before we started out".

And besides, a park ranger had told the adults that just the week before, a fisherman HAD been attacked by a bear in the same area where we took our hike.

The next morning, Grandpa had us lead him back to the little alpine lake-- where he tried his luck with the trout--and I think I even remember him catching one or two--at least that's the way I would like the story to end...

...

Well remembered, Cousin Joe!

Oh, so well remembered.

You will be missed--but you will live in our happy memories until we too are dust in the fields.

Cousin Tom

...