Page 8 - Super Cowboy Rides Again
P. 8

in St. Anthony. The food didn’t hold a candle to
Mom’s, but I wasn’t going for the food. Neither was
my dad. He was going because he enjoyed visiting with
everyone in line. Along the line, booths were set up by
the Fish and Game Department for people to pick up
fishing and hunting regulations. Politicians were
always there, according to my dad, to make promises
they had no intention of keeping.

      We went, and sure enough, at the very end of the
breakfast line was Smokey Bear. The Forest Service
said to call him Smokey Bear and not Smokey the Bear,
and they had pins for us to wear. Smokey shook my
hand, and I was so proud of it I thought I would never
wash again—ever. I never really liked to wash anyway.

      I had to load extra syrup on my food to cover the
burnt taste of the hash browns and the gooey inside of
the pancakes. My brothers call undercooked pancakes
“Twinky cakes” because of the “cream filling.”

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