October 28, 1915 (Hello Reader, the disadvantage of Julius writing this diary was it must contain his observations, thoughts, experiences and perhaps a pastiche of his current readings. As the narrator of this heartbreaking story, I saw the next scene. So, now for something completely different. I am going to give Julius’s technique a whirl. […]
October 27, 1915 I did not sleep well last night. The knowledge of JJ having us watched ups the stakes. I rose from bed before the dawn’s early light and started a fire in my cook stove. I watched the coffee pot until and well after it boiled, thinking of my, really our, current situation. […]
October 26, 1915 “Gus, you bought another saloon, the Oasis. Is that three now? On January 1, the state will be dry. What’s the plan then?” He shrugged his shoulders and pushed a cold mug of beer across the bar top to me. “It’s what I do. I invest in businesses and properties. The building […]
October 22, 1915 “You’re writing everything we say in your diary.” “Not everything.” “Julius you are a burglar of conversations,” Corina teased. “It helps me remember.” “Good, bad and sad?” “Yes, all of it, I guess.” The full moon rose above the mountains and illuminated Corina’s Garden, now nipped by frost. Odd shadows of stalks […]
October 15, 1915 I have been helping the survey crew on my days off from the restaurant. I have embraced abstract thought and have started milling it to my situation. Arthur has boasted for two weeks, “Did I tell you how many fish I caught at Trappeurs Lake? I could have used four hooks and […]
October 1, 1915 “How did you pick up this job? When did you learn to land survey?” I asked du Bois. “My last year of school. I’m good at math, trigonometry, geometry and such. My instructors insisted I try it for a trade. It came easily and apparently there is a surveyor shortage in Steamboat […]
September 22, 1915 I love cottonwoods. I do not know why. Perhaps it is subtle grandiosity. They tower tall, endure the wind, and offer a home to the transient wildlife. They stoically cast shadows along the river and the streets of Steamboat Springs. I have a thin leaf variety close to my backdoor. I cannot […]
September 8, 1915 “Goot sausage needs no mustard,” Frank Muench bellowed to the crowd in his German smothered Swiss accent. His concession, set up facing the field and near the first base dugout, had a black chalkboard trimmed in blond wood. On the top in carefully drawn bold letters was “New Meat Market.” Below a […]
September 1, 1915 “The phone call is for you,” Maggie shouted from the kitchen. “Hurry up, we are on a party line.” Who would be calling me? I have only used this new invention occasionally and only because no one was around to answer the ringing machine. “Ah… hello, yes?” “Julius, it’s Corina.” “Oh, hello. […]
August 27, 1915 “It’s her third divorce that I know of,” Gus said as he unconsciously wiped the bar top. “You were married to her for a while,” I replied. “Almost nine years. I rarely get to see my little girl. I married Nellie, not to be confused with your Cajun friend, a month after […]