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"...I'd be a professor in a Kindergarten Class..."
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1205
At a garage sale in the Valley, there for the rocks, and - by coincidence - this garage sale is selling them. All sorts, everything, lots of crystals, Quartz, Tourmaline, gems, specimens, minerals...This is great. The prices - so-so, better than Shop Prices but not as cheap as finding them yourself...
...Probably cheaper if you factor in the expenses, but I don't think that way...
...Anyways, the "host", or proprietor, he's talking about his gems, he's worked as a geologist in 66 countries, knows his stuff, some great pieces...
He introduces himself, at a guess I say "Rod?", another Rod I met, prospector, out in the field, who found some of the more famous local claims, older, white haired like him, but not him - "No, but I know him..." he says. His familiarity with him drips of contempt so I don't pursue it further.
"Anything Local?" I ask, he's a couple of pieces, nothing of great interest, I leave him and browse around on my own. I recognize him from the laundromat in town, eavesdrop on his conversations with other customers...
...he knows the story of every rock, found every one himself, and he's got thousands, ..."I picked this up beside the road, spotted it from my car..."...and "at the turnoff to the I90, spotted it glistening a mile away in the desert...".
I place him, from the laundromat, a bit of a blowhard, boaster, braggart, American, has a house in North Carolina, etc, etc, it comes back to me...
A new age hippie has cornered him, is loving his crystals, is asking him if he's a member of the local rockhounding club, "OF COURSE NOT!" he replies, "That would be like a PROFESSOR in A KINDERGARTEN CLASS!" and then struggles to find a more apt metaphor, this one wasn't extreme enough, no, it would be like GOD trying to talk to ANTS, or ...
"I guess so..." the hippie meekly replies, rounds up her purchases, he mollifies a bit, she's buying something, and he's explaining the different crystal properties to her..."This one ... under Kirlean Photography...displays an interesting aura..."...
He notices my laughing, time to get out of here...
Aussie Cologne
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1132
Found it in a Thrift Shop, couldn't just leave it there, thought, thought, and thoughtfully re-purposed it and re-gifted...
"Aussie Cologne" I tell him..."The Saleslady recommended it...their number one seller..."
He gratefully accepts it and sticks it in the bathroom...
Haze and the Lake
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 1303
A long day's drive up to Golden, a few prospects up there, but at the end, all in all, too far, there are far too many local points of interest, no reason to drive this far...
Some pictures of Kootenay Lake I took along the way:
The Tourist Economy
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1828
I've never worked the "resorts", and while you could hardly call this place a resort 90% of the economy in the summer derives from Tourists, or "Part-Time" locals who summer here and winter elsewhere.
The tourists, they're the tippers, they have money, they spend money, they know - for the most part - how to tip, and without them I couldn't afford to be here.
However, the tourists, these same sightseers, they slow down the service in the local cafe's and restaurants, locals have to wait in line for tables at their favorite haunts, to grab a coffee at the bakery, they drive the speed limit, they fill the ferries with wait times and getting off a ferry behind a parade of motorhomes all driving 20 under the speed limit to gawk at every single chipmunk or roadside deer (85 KM to Creston, No Passing), well, it takes a lot of patience. They own vacation properties that sit vacant for 80% of the year while the locals, the people here serving them, live in tents down on the beach or up logging roads or if they're "lucky" at the BBI or one of the trailer parks in the neighborhood. The tourists, they're driving newer, nicer cars, they've got current registration, insurance, credit cards, they represent every dream everyone who ever moved to the Kootenays had to leave behind...
This love-hate thing with tourists, I'm getting it...
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