ON THE ROAD TO.........

I am on the road to my special place where Mr. Key and I once camped.  ...and I would like to tell you about it....There's a camp called Don't- You-Worry, On the banks of the River Smile....Where the Cheer-Up and Be-Happy Blossoms sweetly all the while......Where the Never-Crumble flower blooms beside the fragrant Try;  and the Never- Give -Up and Patience point their faces to the sky.     In the valley of Contentment, in the province of I-Will.....You will this lovely site, At the foot of  No-Fret Hill.  There are paths so delightful, in this very charming camp, and on every hand there are  Pine Trees, named the Very-Seldom-Frown.  Rocks and logs quite enticing..You'll find scattered here and there, and to each a vine is clinging called the Frequent-Earnest-Prayer.  I was so happy here, and singing all the while....In that place of Don't- You -Worry, on the banks of River Smile.   It had seemed like a long day, but as the Sun was setting, I drove up the Angeles Crest Highway all the way to Buck Horn Camp Grounds.  I was going to do what Mr Key and I did.  go on through Buck and weave the car between the Pines to our secret camp.  On the way through Buck Horn..there was a lone woman and she was building a fire.  She had set up her tent but seemed to be having trouble getting her fire going.  I stopped the car and yelled to her and asked if she needed help.  She looked me over a little and told me she could not get it lit.  I asked if she would like me to help get it going (!)   and she said she sure would appreciate it.  There was not enough small material and I would go get some deutritice.  I purposely used that word meaning dried material..the kind you rake up.  She laughed at the word and said  "What a way to clean your teeth."  Then I laughed..."Yes, I guess you would not want to use that word with your mouth full."   I heaped pine needles  and a few pine cones under the larger branches she had found and soon there was a good start to her fire.  I mentioned one of my favorite smells was the smoke from burning pine cones on a cold and cloudy day.  She looked into my eyes and said "I like that, are you a poet or a writer?"  I told her I did write but was a Psychologist practicing in San Francisco.  She, in turn told me she was a columnist with the Sacramento Bee Paper. " Oh, so you are a writer, too."  I replied.  "   "Yes, and I love my job because I am sent on assignments to find things to write about......I was asked to do a piece on How to Find Serinity."  I said; "Well, you have come to the right place....I am here to relive a precious memory of the best friend I ever had...we came here when I was a boy, and I learned alot of things here...he passed away years ago and I have come here to relive that life changing experience."  She was quiet for a moment and said  "We don't know each other, but I think I have just found something to write about...I hate to seem intrusive, but do you think you could tell me about that time?  Of course I would need your permission to write about your story...I won't use your name."   She was a woman about in her late thirties, slender and quite.....striking...obviously very intelligent and proper.  "First, my name is Robert Fishback.  "Its a  pleasure to meet you Mr. Fishback....."    "Just call me Bob" I interrupted.  ...'Well, Bob, just call me Blythe....Blythe Arnette."  I kidded her about Blythe being one of the hottest towns I had ever driven through and she said "Yes,  but Needles is hotter."  Her fire was going pretty good and I excused myself because I wanted to go to our camp.  "Don't think me strange, but that camp I told you about is through those trees and I am going to try to drive in like we did a long time ago...sure nice to meet you, Blythe."  "Nice meeting you, Bob....I hope to see you soon so we can visit.  If you want to cook something, come on up and use my fire...seeings you built it..."  Thanks, Ann....we will talk soon"  I drove into the thick of things and reached my destination.  It looked just the same to me.  I felt like I wanted to cry like a baby......(to be continued)