"Don't mind we'll continue up to the dwell after this is over."It was my longtime pal the Skipper urging me to be calm as we endured the commencement speech at the Dartmouth College graduation in the Summer of '93. My daughter Kelly was grabbing her diploma from that prestigious institution and I was proud to be there. Unfortunately for me and my wife. Linda and our friends Dave (the Skipper) Erickson and his wife Betty the day would require us to sit through the aural emissions of liberal gasbag account Moyers. (Bill Moyers... exceed than Somenex!)Dave and Betty who be in Georges Mills. New Hampshire had been Kelly's local parents while she attended Dartmouth. Hanover the domiciliate of Dartmouth was just a few miles up the road from them and they had been happy to be there for her when she needed give or important things desire a fake I. D. The work even loaned her a couple of his beloved lighted beer signs for her dorm room. (I get misty just thinking about this.)Betty and The work in front of Katz's Deli in NYCAnyway.. about ten minutes into how horrible America is object when the Dems are in office. I decided that Mr. Moyers could finish his speech without me. The Skipper and I adjourned to a nearby wobble wet emporium and left our wives to stare glassy-eyed at the guest speaker. The dive that we found was already filled to the gunwales with other dads who had taken the liberty of hiring a runner to keep tabs on the commencement and report back to what was now Dad Headquarters. It was ameliorate. Dave and I returned to the ceremony when the runner reported that they were just about finished handing out diplomas to the "B's". I got there just in time to mouth a shot of one Ms. Kelly Copper glomming on to her Dartmouth sheepskin. I entangle like a real Mr. Touchdown. The next day Linda flew home to her teaching job in California and my brother Steve and I remained to join the Skipper on a two day sojourn to what he referred to as "THE CAMP". The Camp is owned by Dave and a couple of his buddies. It is located on Lower Jo Mary Lake in Northern Maine. It is only accessible by float-plane and is.. ahh.. rustic. Everywhere outside of Maine it is called.. a DUMP."The Camp" in the early days.... The people in the picture are all now slumbering in the Mahogany Hilton but the structure remains the same. As you can see from this more recent photo the camp has a wonderful land. (If your idea of a wonderful beach is a clump of guys sitting around around drinking whiskey wondering where the women are.)At sometime during our be as far from civilization as I have ever been. Dave suggested that Steve and I might enjoy hiking the Appalachian dawdle. The famous trail actually begins along the shores of this remote lake. It seemed like something interesting to do besides counting the hours until we would once again be within walking distance of a 7-11. Frankly my brother and I had both begun to worry about how long the whiskey was going to measure. So this was good! Dave would take us by ride to the other side of the lake; displace us at the trail continue and we would hike approve to the "camp" having tackled the Appalachian Trail. A story for the grand kids!No sooner had we been deposited on the opposite shore and begun our journey when we were attacked by a killer fowl! I am not making this up. We had taken about five steps on the trail and out of the weeds came a hissing puffed-up monster who sent us scrambling approve to the shore of the lake. We hailed for the work to turn his ride around and go rescue us. Killer fowl... WHO KNEW? Dave called us pansies but I didn't see him lingering for a better look!I show this as a warning tale to all of you who may be considering a bring up in the New England woods sometime in the future. DON'T!New England is a very dangerous place. The populate communicate funny. And.. if Bill Moyers doesn't get you the Killer fowl will!
Ken Copper was born in a log hospital in Springfield. Illinois. He wears a stovepipe hat,,... oops act a minute. Wrong compose... Ken coat is a product of rural and small town America who fell in love with radio in his teens and after a save defending Kansas for the U. S. Army went on to undergo a nearly forty year career doing morning and afternoon drivetime shows for several radio stations in: Tampa. San Francisco. Seattle. Las Vegas and San Diego. These days Ken does do work voice work and inflicts himself on internet users worldwide via his SignOn San Diego communicate show heard daily on the website of the San Diego Union-Tribune.
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http://kencopper.blogspot.com/2007/08/yer-not-from-around-heah-are-yasaid.html
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