My brother....

We lived in Livingston MT and use to walk all over the mountains in the area. The county (Park County) had a pretty famous fishing contest; the prize for the largest trout was $1,000 - this was in the 1950s so that was about $17-20,000. Up on the hill was a fish (for the contest) and a P (for the county). We grew up pretty wild as our house was the second from the edge of the development. The fish and P was just up the hill from us; we (Gerry, my brother), Gail (see first blog) and I dug a fort in the eye of the fish. We fought mock combat using a grass we called spearweed that grew on the hillside - the stuff would not travel far when thrown but if you were close enough, you could throw a handful and have most of them stick. We were far enough north that we would have long periods of twilight - if we had to be home by dark, we could push that to almost 10:30.

There were a lot of gulleys in the area; one was about 1/2 a mile from home and pretty deep. I was about 8 or 9, Gerry about 10 or 11 and Gail was born between us and I am 63 now so I don't know how deep it was but I remember that we had to scrabble up a fairly steep slope to where the cliff started and the cliff had to at least twice my height. Where the slope met the cliff face we built another fort; the entrance was large enough that we could crawl in on our hands and feet. About 3 or 4 feet in we hollowed out the fort until it was large enough for the 3 of us to sit and talk. Once we finished this part we then started digging up so that had another entrance/exit. I remember being out there late one night standing up on top of the cliff while Gerry and Gail were digging second entrance, the night was moonless and I could see the huge sky full of stars and I heard a nighthawk cry - the cry is really spooky, very piercing. I have driven past/through town on the freeway and it looks like the housing development has expanded up over the hill so the fish and p is gone - or at least moved.

One year we bought a bunch of fireworks including roman candles and played war. You haven't played war until you have fired roman candles like a rifle, shot bottle rockets and thrown firecrackers. My parents didn't like Gail much; dad was a banker and I think they thought the Maroneys were not status enough but also he was a big, hulking kid who was awkward and broke things without meaning to.

My memories are racing each other for outlet and I don't know if I should start another post or what.

Gerry, my big brother - he was a boxer so he would chew 5 to 10 sticks of gum at a time (so did I because he did) to strengthen his jaw. I don't know if it worked but I do know that though I have not been in a lot of fights, I have been hit in the face some and it only pissed me off; never knocked me down. We were close while we lived in Livingston but after we moved to Plentywood MT he got a girlfriend and I seldom saw him. It is true that we moved after I got out of 6th grade (go St. Mary’s Braves - well, I remember it was Indian related so it may have been changed) so I was 13 and Gerry was 15 so we were probably doomed to split up 'cuz those 2 years are real important. Gerry married his sweetheart while he was a jr. - his daughter was born shortly after that all