Here it is, after midnight, while the rest of the world slumbers (at least around me) I sit up, busy parking memories. Circa, mid fifties. The Buick was the classic black and white. We'd load it to the hilt, and off we'd go for our annual camping trip. Trust me. I knew where the middle of the seat was. Because if my sister's elbow or knee or God forbid her foot crossed that line, there's be a cat fight in the back seat. To a skinny nose picking toe headed kid, we were headed to the North Pole Mountains. I didn't have a clue. And yes, I asked umpteen times, 'are we there yet?' But the truth was, our destination was either Kings Canyon or Yosemite. Some times we'd head up Hwy 99 to Kings
... read more
