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Ralph and Rosemary's Hobbies and Interests

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Boating

2006 Season's Last Day

Tractors

Radios

Guitars

Our Friend, Mariah

Amateur Radio:

Rosemary's Interests and Hobbies:

Holidays:

Fishing and boating is a great.

Both Rose and I enjoy many days and evenings at Lake Michigan. Sometimes we take the boat out to fish for Salmon, Lake Trout or Perch. Other times we just enjoy crusing the lakefront in our boat. Hot summer evenings we boat a few miles east of shore in order to escape the heat. On the left is a picture of Rosemary fishing in the small pond on our property. She loves to fish here with a cane pole. She is a great fisherman (fisherwoman), and she catches many fish when other people can't. Although, I have to bait her hook and remove the fish from her line.

What can you talk about after being married for years?

"What do you talk about all the time? What the hell can you and your wife possibly have to talk about after all these years?" These are the words I have heard for many years, as a matter of fact, friends have asked me this since my Rosemary and I were married only a few years. Well, I don’t know what we talked about exactly, but generally we talked about everything. There was never a time when we couldn’t, or didn’t have topics to discuss.

When we were young we talked about our dreams of tomorrow, and the plans for our future. We talked about the things the children did during the past days, weeks and months. We talked about our plans to improve our home, our progress during various remolding projects. We discussed our brothers and sisters and their plans for the future.

We worked for ourselves for over twenty five years. I was the floor sander, and Rosemary did all the office work. She gave estimates over the phone, scheduled much of my work for repeat customers, she did the bookkeeping, she paid the bills and ordered parts and sanding and finishing material. She did all this, and at the same time raised our five children. During these years there was never a lack of conversation. If it wasn’t business related, it was conversation relating about our children or our interests.

For five years I worked for Digital Equiptment Corp.I had to go through a lot of training in this job, and I wasn’t used to working for a boss. Rosemary and I had a terrific amount of things to talk about while I worked here. She was always interested in everything that I experienced at Digital.

During my disability years and retirement, we stopped every two hours to have coffee and talk. Sometimes, only for ten or fifteen minutes, and other times for a half hour or more. We would talk about our children and their plans for the future, our grandchildren and the different personalities of each.

We always talked about our fishing experiences, seeing that we both liked fishing and went fishing very often. Talks always covered what we caught, what we would use for bait next time out. How the boat handled last time on the water. We would talk about different people we knew around the lake or our slip. It was nice to talk about different boats and activities at the lake. Our conversation often focused on the Cubs, the team we all know, Rosemary loved. Typical of a Cubs fan, she always dreamed of "next year".

I was involved in amatuer radio for over twenty five years, and during that time we talked about my experiences using Morse code, and the many different people, in different countries around the world that I talked to and received QSLs from. Rosemary and I produced a series of language books for amateur radio operators. It took us over two and a half years to finish all five. Each book contained four foreign languages and their translation to English. It gave us years of things to talk about. We advertised the books in various radio magazines, and Rose packed and mailed all the books to the many customers that bought our books.

Together, we bought antique radios that were usually destroyed when we got them. With her help, we rebuilt and restored all of them. Some radios we sold, but most of them we liked too much to sell. During that time, we stopped every two hours and had coffee and discussed our progress and whatever else happed during that day or week.

We had computers here in our home for almost 40 years. So, naturally, we talked about our computers and how computers have progressed from year to year. Our first experience with a computer was an Atari that Grant bought when he was in high school. (1981)(With 8k memories, wow!) So these monsters always gave us plenty to talk about.

I play the guitar, slightly, and she liked hearing the music. Rosemary and I talked about the guitars and the different music I played. She always prised my playing, even though I knew it wasn't vey good.

Rosemary collected all types of items. They could be jewelry, music boxes, dolls, soldiers, pictures, etc,etc.. Many of these items I would repair for her, and they gave us hours of discussion. She loved her collectables and we were always discussing different pieces. Her "Story Book Dolls" and her music boxes were her favorite collections . The "Story Book Dolls" she began to collect when she was only sixteen years old.

Whenever I worked on her car or my car, she would always come out to the garage to have coffee with me, and talk about what was wrong and how the repair was progressing. Rosemary was interested in me and how I felt, not really interested in the car repairs. In the last few years, Kurt and Russell have been buying old tractors and we have been repairing them. Rose would still come out to the garage every two hours for some coffee and conversation.

Now the house is quiet. There is no conversation. There is no life here. I can’t express how much I miss Rosemary, and how much I miss stopping what I was doing, having a cup of coffee and talking with Rosemary.

We were interested in each other and just talked about everything.

Thank God, when she was here, we spent so much time.. Just Talking......Yes, just spending so much time with each other, just talking.....

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A True story of the Lake:

On a terribly hot July day, my wife and I decide to drive to Lake Michigan to find some cool relief. While I hitch up our sixteen foot boat to our old Ford truck, Rosemary fills our thermos with hot, black coffee and puts it in the boat. Then we begin our familiar drive to Waukegan harbor stopping to get gas for the truck and to fill the two red six gallon gas tanks that we keep strapped down tightly in the stern of the boat. As we approach the lakefront we already notice a nice difference in the weather. Small waves with only a touch of white gently roll into the shore. We know this usually signifies calm water, the type of water conditions that Rose likes. I back the boat into the water and release it from the trailer, allowing it to slide gently off the rollers and I hear the sound of water splashing as it finds its destination. The sun is still high in the sky so we decide to stop at the Dockside Deli that is located at the harbor. I order a turkey sandwich and a small root beer, and my wife orders a beef sandwich and a small coke. We pay for our food and take it out on to the small patio next to the shop. We know by the color of the water and the lack of wind that the water will be nice and calm, so we decide to go perch fishing. I buy a few minnows to use for bait, and Rose prepares the boat, checking all the instruments. Within a few minutes I start the engine, and we are on our way onto the lake. As we pass fishermen on shore, we are wondering if they are having any luck. We notice a familiar sight, a family walking with a sailor from Great Lakes. In the summer when sailors graduate from boot camp they enjoy walking along the harbor with their families. From our small boat we see other families walking along the shore, trying to escape the heat of the day.

It looks like everyone is here trying to get cool, Rose says as she coils the tie line and hangs it inside the boat, and is beginning to coil the second line. I nod my head as if to answer yes, watching the water as I steer the boat toward the harbor mouth. The hot, red sun is beginning to settle in the west and I steer to our favorite fishing spot. A place where we have caught fish many times before and we hope tonight will not be different. We fish until midnight then we reel in our poles. The nice bunch of Lake Perch is now in the cooler on ice, but we don’t want to bring our boat back to shore yet, because it’s still muggy. We start the boat engine and head out a few miles to where the water is cool water and the air is refreshing. It’s a dark night now with no moon. We seem to be all alone, and once in a while we see a white light on the stern, or a red or blue light on the bow of a boat in the distance. After a few hours one gas tank is almost empty, and I replace it with the full tank, and we decide to return to the harbor.

As we head back, we notice a sailboat driving erratically. When we are about a half mile from shore, the boat sails directly in front of ours. We can hear the sails flap and the noise of the lines ahead of us, and we notice the boat doesn’t have any starboard, port or stern lights. Although the water is still very calm, the night has turned cloudy, and it is difficult to see what is wrong. As our boat comes close to theirs, we see a man and a woman waving at us. I steer the boat in their direction to see what is wrong. We are in range now, and we can hear their frantic voices calling to us. “How far were you from shore? Did you see anything or hit anything?” I answered, “We were out about five miles. Why? What’s the problem?” They reply, "We think we saw someone swimming about a mile or two form shore but we are not sure. We are worried if it was a person, you might hit him. He is possibly two or three miles out by now. We don’t have a radio, and we can’t call the coast guard. Can you search the water and look for him?"

By now Rose is looking for our large spotlight, and I tell the people on the sail boat that I will turn around and search the water. I drive very slowly now, and Rose moves the spot light from left to right, over and over again, searching the dark water. We watch the round white circle in the water, hoping to catch something or someone in the circle of light. My instruments read two and a half miles from shore, and we still don’t see anything but water. I asked Rose, Do you really think those people aboard the sailboat saw someone or something out here? We’ve driven over two miles east of the harbor and we haven’t seen anything but water. It seems a long way for a person to swim, especially at night in this cold water. I don’t think the people on the sail boat saw anything. I think it was their imagination. Or, maybe it was a log or a plastic bag, or maybe they just had too darn much to drink. You know Friday night, it’s party night. Rose keeps the light moving back and forth, and after a few minutes of silence says, Let’s keep looking. If we can’t see anything or anyone in the next ten or fifteen minutes, we better call the coast guard.

A few minutes later the circle of the light focuses on something floating in the water. Both Rose and I are silent as we drive closer to the object. It looks like a person’s head, but we’re not sure. Maybe it is a board, a bottle or something else that someone threw overboard. It isn’t moving, and we don’t hear a sound except for the whine of our motor. I look around, and I can’t see any boat lights. The only light visible is the constant flashing light from the lighthouse two or more miles in the distance. Our boat is now about twenty or thirty feet from whatever is floating in the water. Rose keeps the light directly on it, all the while hoping it is just a piece of driftwood. I call, Is anybody there? Are you ok? Do you need help? We can pull you aboard our boat. I have a line and some life jackets I can throw you.

I grab a line and prepare to throw it overboard when a tired, young voice answers us. Stay away from me. Go away. I don’t want any help. I don’t want a life jacket, and get the damn light off me. I want to die. I plead with him to come aboard our vessel and after a few minutes I ask my Rose to contact the coast guard. Fortunately we receive a reply. Remain with the subject, we are in the process of refueling our vessel, and as soon as we finished, we will join you. Don’t lose site of him and watch for our vessel. They say. We are relieved help is on the way, yet it is difficult to keep the young man in sight. We drive in a large circle keeping him in the center of the light. Sometimes he swims under water trying to lose us. I ask him over and over again to board our boat, and he doesn’t answer. His only reply is the same, Get your light off me. Leave me alone. I don’t want any help. I want to swim as far as I can from shore, where I know I won’t have enough strength to swim back. I’m exhausted already, and I know I’ll never be able to swim back. Go away.

After a few minutes we see the large coast guard vessel speeding our way. We hear the engines roar and the wake of their vessel churning the water as it heads toward us. Rose flashes the light and calls them again on the radio to verify where we are, but it isn’t necessary. As they arrive I move my boat away from the young man and the coast guard vessel. They turn on a huge spot light that seemed to light the whole lake. We hear one of the coast guard personnel say, Son get in our vessel now. If we have to jump in the water to get you, and we get wet, you will really have a problem. Shortly after that the boy climbs into their boat.

Rose and I turn off our light, she lights a cigarette, and I pour the two of us a cup of coffee. Then I turn the boat around and begin to steer towards shore. Neither of us speaks, even when we arrive in the harbor and begin to tie up to the dock. Everything seems so quiet here. It is past three in the morning, the harbor is completely dark, the ducks are asleep, the seagulls are quiet, and there are no sounds of people or cars. The sailboats that are tied to their moorings are perfectly still, not rolling back and forth as they often do, and the only sound we hear is the soft sound of the water gently rolling onto shore. We load our boat on the trailer, tie down the stern of the boat, and begin our short drive home. Neither of us speaks, unwilling to disturb the silence of the night. Finally, when we are only a few minutes from home, Rose looks at me and asks, What could be so terrible that a young nineteen year old boy wants to give up living? His life is just beginning.