That song title should be the story of my life — because after these ?? years, I still don’t know the answer.

Being born on April Fool’s day has had its ups and downs throughout the years. In my family, I was the only child my mother had who was born outside the state of Idaho. I was born in Jordan Valley, Ore. Mom told me I was born before she could get to the bed. She was highly insulted when I asked her if she dropped me on my head! The doctor didn’t arrive until late in the afternoon.

I was the 13th child my mother gave birth to…eight of us lived to adulthood. and now, there are only three of us, both having past the octogenarian status.

Folks moved to Boise, Idaho. I’ve lived there, in Honolulu, Montana and Yuma. So?

And, I was married on my birthday in las Vegas. I said “April Fool” for 40 plus years but the marriage ignored the terminology.

I’ve been  treated to  special cakes —  one an 12″x18 colorfully decorated. My son, daughter and friends brought it to me, waiting for candles.When I lifted it, it was not heavy. When I cut into it it certainly was light — it was a cardboard lid!

Many jokes have been played, and it has been a learning lesson to me — always laugh first!!

And, if anything happens, it’s not my fault!  So, April Fool! from one who has been that for enough years to know better!

(You, Alfred H!! can share this day!)

So, what does “water under the bridge mean?” It is a nostalgic way of remembering the water under the bridges I recall…Bridges over the Snake and Boise Rivers in Idaho and the Colorado River in Arizona.

And, it’s how little things trigger memories. I saw a small sticker on a windshield that had “Mountain Home AFB” and discovered a fellow Sun employee’s brother had been stationed there recently.

Flashback! Word War II in the late 1944-45 I was a civilian in the motor pool at Gowen Field, Boise, Idaho, 30 or so miles from Mountain Home. Both were Army air Corps stations, and many times I would be sent to Mountain Home, driving either a pickup with some supplies or military crewmen or a staff car with VIPs.

My dispatcher, Mack, was a grey-haired man and a neighbor. When I’d turn in my trip ticket that had been signed by whomever on the trip to and from Mountain Home Mack would raise an eyebrow. Those were the days when there was a governor on the car engines to control speed at 35 miles per hour.

Finally, Mack asked me, “why haven’t you had a speeding ticket?” I just explained to him in an innocent voice that “well, of course I didn’t speed, but, asked ‘how many tall clumps of sagebrush was there between Gowen and Mountain Home’?”

Another out-of-town trip was to McCall, Idaho, where there was an R and R (rest and relaxation) spot for the military personnel. On one trip I was assigned to go to the mess hall and pick up supplies. This was in a ton and a half truck . When I pulled to the dock at the mess hall I started to shift gears and stopped. The gearshift came loose and I was holding it in my hand!

I checked the base of it and saw a cotter pin had fallen out and couldn’t be found. So, I just took out a bobby pin from my hair and inserted it into the slot before taking it back to the motor pool to get another vehicle. Back in those days no guys wore bobby pins!

Another tip to McCall was in a pickup and it was cold with a lot of snow alongside the road. The route to McCall was over Horseshoe Bend, aptly named because of the curves in the road. I made the trip just fine until I came to the entrance to the camp. I slowed way down, but when I turned into the driveway, the pickup slid into the snowbank. Took a lot of kidding, but I was the first one to make it to the camp…others had slid off the road and had to be pulled back. The trip back ended after dark, and the cook riding back with me had a nickname of “Sleepy” but when we got back to Gowen the name was not appropriate.

Motor pool days were prior to going to work in headquarters, and that’s another memory.

BY PAM M. SMITH, Content Specialist

Preference in music is one’s own choice, and age has much to do with that selection.

There was a great group in town last evening— the Riders in the sky. They played more country western, recalling days of the movies when the cowboy heroes sang more songs than they had shoot-outs and fights.

Three of the professionals have been performing for 30 years, and the “young kid on the block” joined them two decades ago. When they belted out the song “Rawhide” it was a reminder that Clint Eastwood got his start in movies as a young cowhand.

Anyhow, talent is outstanding.  Ranger Doug kept the guitar going and sang in a wide range up to high pitch and yodelting. The fiddler Woody Paul admitted to having dropped his ponytail, and Too Slim, the bassist kept comedy going and slapped his own face without music. The new guy, Joey, added his accordion touches.

Might sound boring to some, but the Historic Theatre had a packed house with laughter and applause. And, you could understand the words to the songs, and none of the instruments were electric.

Time changes, and so has music, but will this era’s style continue in popularity? Classic still maintains its place…