The Hobbit

INTERMISSION

Due to the graphic content of this next section, parts where left out

..........Left the door shut, the lights out, the shades drawn.  In the distance, Taps was playing on some lonely trumpet.

            I was in a play once.  Sixth grade and the play was “The Hobbit”.

            If you have ever read the book or seen the movie, you will of course remember the three trolls that capture Bilbo Baggins (the Hobbit) at some point in his journey.  I was one of the trolls.

I will have to get the book again and find out all of the names of the trolls but I do remember that I was Bert.  Lance Lindo played the other guy troll and Vickie Thompson played the girl troll.  Ohhh Vickie, Vickie, Vickie.  Another bump girl.  Eric played the hobbit.

            During one scene, us trolls get in a fight about how were going to eat ol’ Bilbo.  While we were doing our masterful choreography of punches, rolls, and ducks, Lance’s part had him falling to the floor on his back.  Myself and bumps girl grab Lance like were going to hit him and then with all three of us in sort of awkward lunging, standing, positions, we freeze so the lights can fade to black and the curtain closes.

            This was all going perfectly to schedule until the light fade.  You know how the stages in elementary schools are usually made out of really nice hardwood flooring? At least they used to be.  In addition, you know how the stage was usually hollow underneath for storage of the foursquare balls, parachutes, chairs, and other cool stuff?.  The problem with the hollowness and the flooring is that it echoes and reverberates when you walk on it. 

            OK, so here we are acting our best, we fall, we lunge, we freeze, and then we go silent with fade.  Problem is, about that time when the audience and the auditorium is silent...Lance farts. 

Do you know what a fart sound like when your butt is being pressed on by two people and you’re against that hollow wooden stage floor?  Thunder...loud, reverberating, echoing, last for an eternity thunder.  Could the lights have faded any slower?  Add to that the muffled snorting and gagging of three sixth graders and there you have it.  Our big debue with Lances fart being heard by at least twenty bazillion parents.

            It was during the play and working with Lance that I learned that he played the guitar.  Mom put Julie and me into guitar lessons for several years before this but all I had learned was the parts of the guitar and some finger positions...no real cool stuff.  We took the lessons at “Johnny Smith’s Guitar Centre” and my teacher was Mel Bay.  At the time, I didn’t know who that was except that he was the guy who taught guitar.  Look him up if you don’t know who he is.

Anyway, mom and dad had bought the guitars for the class and mine was now sitting in the closet at home...so was Julie's...both Gibson's.  After watching Lance play actual chords on his guitar one day, I decided that I would give that a try.

            I pulled out one of the old guitar lesson books and found some chord charts in the back.  After a few weeks, I was getting pretty good if I do say so myself.  Lance and I starting hangin’ together at school with the guitars and we learned to play “House of the Rising Sun”...COOL!.

            Well, Mrs. Waterson (my English teacher) found out that we could play.  Somehow, we were picked to play the guitar for the schools Thanksgiving show at school.  This was...how you say...Awesome!.   While everyone else had to stand on the stage in rows, Lance and I got to sit in chairs down in front of the stage and play the songs.  ANOTHER FIRST!.  I was a star (in my own mind).  Just a note, About the time I was seventeen we had a garage sale and I sold both of those guitars for ten dollars each and an eight track stereo for the car...can you say Dork!.

            At one point in the school year, each class got to go on a weeklong trip to “High Trails”.  This was a camp up in the mountains a few hours away.  This was a big deal because for one thing, you got to get out of school for a week.  You did however have to do school things at camp.  Since our class was so big, we had to split into two groups.  Group 1 left for a week while group two stayed behind.  Then we switched.  I got to go on the second week.

            I am certain that this trip to High Trails was the beginning of realizing that I loved the mountains and had to live in the mountains.  This was the perfect place to be. There were cabins that held twenty kids and a counselor, horses, a mess hall for eating, a teepee with the “Council ring” in front, trees, rivers, and the best part was a fifty-five gallon drum that was converted into a fireplace that sat right in the middle of each cabin that you used for heating the place.  No fire hazard here!

            At night, the counselor would get that baby cookin’ to where that thing glowed.  If you put your tennis shoes against it, you could write your name on it in melted rubber.  The best thing though was when you put pennies on top of the drum and they would melt after time...so cool.

            Ah yes, and who could forget the nightly raids on other cabins.  The chief bean of the camp told us all these scary stories about running around at night outside with bears and Indian ghosts Etc.  It worked for most kids, but not us.  You know how dark it is in the mountains at night.  It’s hard to see anything when you look out of the window of the cabin.  There were lots of windows to, and all about top bunk height.  We would run around quiet like to the next cabin with our cameras and flashbulbs.  After scratching oh so scary like on the building and windows, someone would just have to look out a window to see what that spooky noise was.  That’s when you blast em’ with a flash from the bulb!  Not only would the kid inside be instantly blinded for life and more, but you would be to if you were dumb enough not to shut yours eyes to before firing.  You cannot see. I’m sorry but your blind...hello?  The kid inside might be blind but he’s safe inside!  I’m out there with the Indian ghosts and bears trying to find my way back to safety.  I can stub my toe on hair lint too let alone rocks, twigs, corners of cabins, porches of cabins, doors of cabins, and beds in the cabins.  Man that was living.

            I could have stayed there forever until I got a letter from a girl in school.  She was in the first group that went.  She wrote me about how wonderful her time was but that it could have been better if I had been there with her...Hello!  I received a letter a day filled with her desires for my hot bod and her longing for me to come back now that the trip had opened her eyes to her feelings for me...another Hello!  She said that she would meet me at the bus when we came in on Friday and that she would be wearing the blue dress.  Oh baby I had to get back.

All week I thought about who this girl could be.  I had to burn the steamy letters in the bonfires at night they were so good.

            Finally, the day had come...Friday.  I almost wanted to hurl I was so tensed up when we pulled up in the school parking lot.  I played it cool and waited until almost last to get off the bus.  When I stepped out, I other kids, Eric, Kurt, Etc. However, no blue dress.  I looked and looked, but nothing.  Eric and Kurt came over and asked if I was lost cuz I was looking so hard.  I of course couldn’t tell them what was going on.  I was looking for the girl of my dreams after all.

            Pretty soon though, their laughing was getting a bit too loud to handle so I asked them what was so funny.  They asked me if I had gotten any “letters” in camp from anybody while I was there.

Can you say LOSER...I bet you can

Dirt Clods

Mom also worked for dad but wasn’t paid.  I never could understand that.  She worked in the front office once in awhile doing a lot of typing and such.  I think she did pay role also.  I didn’t see much of her but as I said, I was only there in the summer time.  Dad had a den in the basement, which he did a lot of work in and she was always in typing or shuffling papers around.

During all the time in Holland Park I didn’t see Julie to much except in the evenings after school and even then not to much.  What’s with that?  I do remember getting into a big fight with her in her room on day though.  I don't remember what it was about but I do remember that I had just about enough and punched her in the stomach.  Man was I going to be trouble unless I thought fast.  Julie was on her knees trying to breathe so I quickly fell to the floor grabbed my stomach and started crying.  When mom came in, she saw me crying on the floor, tears flowing everywhere.  I was pathetic.  Of course, she had to ask Julie what she had done.  Not being able to speak, mom grounded her, and; after several minutes of yelling; sent me to my room to recuperate?  Man was I good.  Mom still doesn’t know about that one.

Did I mention that I was in Cub scouts about this time?  You know “Do your best” was the motto of this organization.  I even remember the promise...I, Jamie Koch (the name my mom always called me) promise to do my best, to do my duty, to God and my country, to help other people and to obey the law of the pack.......and to pop your big sister one in the gut when she annoys you.  The last lines a freebie.  I was also a Webelo Scout and can you believe it, I was and may still be the youngest Eagle Scout in Colorado at age 13.

One Easter after church Julie and I had just finished the Easter basket search and were just settling in for lunch when dad suggested that we look under the couch.  He thought he heard something scratching earlier.  We immediately ran for the couch.  Underneath were two small rabbits and two small colored chickens.  Cool.  I’m not sure, what happened right after that period of time but we did end up with a large chicken coop and rabbit hutch in the backyard up against the house.  We had rabbit poop and eggs everywhere.  Sometime later that all disappeared to make way for an above ground pool.  We had that for a couple of summers and it to go elsewhere.  It did leave a rather nice round pit that had lots of sand in it though.  This was a much better place to play with cars.  The Gully-washer was history.  When you have sand, you have it all.

By this time I had been in school for a few years and had made a few friends.  There was always somebody at our place ready to play.  I think they just liked me because of my cool toys and dirt bike.  I had several friends on my block but my best friend Eric lived down on Horne St. around the corner and down the way.  I always rode my bike down there to play after school for awhile until time to come home for supper.  Eric had asthma big time so he always had to carry his inhaler everywhere he went.  He was allergic to literally everything except the sun.  The sun allergy was left up to Andrea…..A redheaded freckle face girl down the block from me.  She had a big sister that was Julie’s age and was just as goofy looking as Andrea.  She had “bumps” though so that was cool.  My friends and I spent a lot of time playing over there. Andrea lived right next door to two sisters that were my age who were ugly and weird.  There just isn’t any other way to describe them.  I can’t even remember their names.

Jimmy was the crybaby of the neighborhood.  Everyone used to pick on him all the time.  When he got mad he would turn red, clench his fists, start to froth at the mouth, grunt a little, and then just shake and start to cry.  We knew it was all over when he fell to the ground and quivered.  His big sister Faith started the “Gothic” movement before it became “Gothic”.  She wore nothing but black clothes with black lipstick and eye shadow.  She had long straight jet-black hair too.  The whole family made wonderful impressions on everybody.  I remember one Halloween after somebody who was trick or treating before us egged their house.  Just as we were coming down the street Jimmy’s dad came out in his underwear screaming obscenities waving a shotgun.  He let on fire off and cleared the whole street.  “How’s that for treat” he was screaming!  “How’s that for trick” the parents were mumbling as the police hauled him off.  We didn’t see too much of the family after that.  Except for Jimmy, they stayed to themselves inside the house.  I heard later that Jimmy had joined the Marines or the Army right after high school.

            During this time, I found out that I was a pretty good aim when it came to throwing rocks.

Eric and I had been playing out in the field with our bikes.  We had made a gnarly ramp out of dirt at the bottom of a rather large hill.  We would take our stingray bikes with the banana seat tilted back for optimum performance, bike to the top of the hill and then as fast as we could, fly down the hill, hit the ramp, sail through the air at least 200 million feet above the dirt floor, let go of the bike while pushing away, crash to the ground, roll, spin, kick, flip, crumple, all the while getting cuts and bruises in really cool places, pick up our bikes, re-adjust the handlebars, fix the seat, get on, and do it all over again.  What a kick!  These guys on t.v. with their Motocross dirt bike jump championship stuff have nothing on us.  We started the whole thing WAY back when.

            Anyway, while we were having fun maiming ourselves, three brothers who lived on the next block over from me had wandered into the field.  They were watching us from behind a large mountain of dirt that had a big pole on the top.  After several minutes, Eric and I started to see and hear rocks coming down around us along with large puffs of dirt that would shoot up like smoke clouds...oh yes, the famed “Dirt Clods” of death.  Not only would these clods hurt if they hit, but they would also leave you scrambling for cover from the dirt cloud.  Dirt, dust, in my eyes...must get cover...need ammo captain!

            After several minutes of the barrage from the enemy, we decided to return fire.  We dropped our trusty bikes in the dirt and started throwing.  I must tell you that at this time, Eric and I were out numbered and out classed.  There were three of them remember and they had cover behind the hill.  They had clear shots at us and all we could do is watch the rain of clods come from behind the enemy encampment.  Why if I remember right, Eric and I could even hear the whistle of bullets as they flew by our heads, yeah, that’s it, and barb wire spools had suddenly sprung up the depths of the earth to block our every move.  Darkness was falling and in the distance the glow of fires, burning in the abandoned French farmhouses could be seen.  The smell of smoke lay heavy in the air.  Eric and I had been cut off from our men behind enemy lines.  We crawled for hours through the darkness taking shelter whenever possible.  Now and then we would take aim and throw a clod grenade in front of us to clear a safe passageway.  Most of our grenades would unfortunately hit a large burned out French bakery, or was it a commoner’s shop...how about a dirt hill.  To our surprise, the grenades would merely bounce off and not explode.  Through the maze of wire and rock, we crawled.  The crumpled bodies of soldiers lay before us.  One enemy soldier had a nasty cut above his right eye.  He was alive! No, wait...That’s Stevey, one of the brothers.

            Stevey had obviously taken a perfectly aimed rock shot in this area.  But who was to blame?

Unfortunately, everybody pointed their fingers at me...even Eric.  How could that be?  I must have been one heck of a good shot.  I did have a good technique though.  Eric would just throw straight on when one of the guys would pop out from behind the hill.  I however would use the arch approach.  I would throw high and let the rock fall behind the hill.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to hit anything unless somebody stepped away from the protection of the hill like a dork to look for a good rock to throw...Oops, dorky Stevey.

            Well, after the screaming and crying had settled down, the three brothers went home to go tattle on me.  Eric went home just because, and I, I ran AWAY from home.  Yes, I was young, I had a bike, I was a rebel, and I knew I was going to get into trouble for defending myself...and America.  I was running on all the instinct that a ten-year-old kid could have.... OK, I had nothing.  I ran South to freedom and my new home...the Gully Washer.  No, to creepy at night...plenty of water though.  I ran north...the school playground.  No, to obvious.  I ran west.  Ah ha! This could be it! No.  I could make it over the foothills behind the subdivision but I would be trapped by the Freeway.  I went east.  I ran for what seemed an eternity and two halves....OK I made it one block over from my house.  The search for me must have started immediately because I no more than turned the corner when I saw the Rambler coming up the other way.  No escape, It was mom and dad.

Jim Koch's (JT Reno's) Ramblings

Forward

Before I start this project, I want it made perfectly clear that I am not a writer or a genius when it comes to writing.  There is no format to this and I am using a standard dictionary to correct my spelling, so do not start analyzing this half way through.  My thoughts jump from paragraph to paragraph with no rhyme or reason.  I tried to keep the chronology of it intact however.  The entire purpose of this is to get my thoughts and experiences down on paper before I forget things. 

Just a note, I started this on September 17, 1999 and worked on it on and off whenever I got the chance or the computer to do so. 

Me in Saudia Arabia on jobsite.......24 years old

 Jim Koch

I was born in Burlington Iowa although I do not have memory of that wonderful sounding place.  Mom and dad were coming back from Alaska from a trip or something and on the way, back I popped out right on the Mississippi River... You know...The Old Man, the Mighty Miss’s sip, Old Miss, Old Man River, Yadda Yadda Yadda.

OK, so I was born...and at a very early age, I might say.  After that, total blank until... 

My earliest memory I would have to say was in Woodland Park Colorado where we lived for a short time.  I was trying to fill a water gun in the house.  My sister Julie was outside with one of her friends pulling the legs off “Daddy long-legs” and I wanted to squirt them while they wiggled around.  I guess the faucet inside was not my mom’s area of choice and when she told me to go outside, I said what was on my mind with a very colorful word inserted in the sentence.  Soap has a taste you never forget.  Who cares what brand it was?  The bar was huge and scraped on my teeth.    I also remember Julie stepping on a nail across the road from the house and a Shelton pony we had in the backyard.  We got rid of it after it bucked Julie off on day.  What a dork; Julie that is; not the horse. 

We moved to Colorado Springs where dad was building a house in a sub-division called Holland Park.  The house was at 1007 Ellstone St. It had a basement with a wet bar that had all the fixin’s for any kind of ice cream concoction you could think of.  It also had a huge backyard with a rock garden and fishpond that overlooked the foothills and the notorious “Gullywasher”.  The Gullywasher was an area out by the cliffs that turned into a huge river every time it rained.  The water came down the pasture area to the right of the cliffs and shot right off the edge.  After time, the water dug a perfectly cool canyon in the cliff.  This was prime territory for playing with your cars and certain death according to every mother on the block.  Either we were going to be washed away and drowned or a wall was going to cave in on us.  Please, the walls could not have been more than 30 feet high and only crumbled a little when the wind blew.  I spent a lot of time down there.

             The neighborhood was just in the process of being developed so there weren’t too many families around yet.  To help pass the summer, dad bought everybody in the family dirt bikes.  Mine was a yellow Honda 50 trail bike and was the coolest thing in town.  Julie also had a 50 but it was red.  Mom and dad both had Honda trail 70’s.  We used to take them out to the foothills everyday and ride.  Our house was right on the edge of the development so it was easy to get to the field.  Just open the backyard fence gate and off you went.  I’m not quite sure how old I was at the time.  I started first grade at Jackson Elementary School so I had to be at least six years old.

            Dad had a big plumbing business in Colorado Springs named Jet Plumbing and Heating.  It was the biggest and busiest place around.  I used to go to the shop with him in the summer and hang around playing out in the shop or the yard.  He had a soda machine in the office area that had a lid on top you had to open to get to the bottles.  After you put money in, you could grab the top of a bottle and thread it through a little maze to the end that had a flap door for the bottle to go through.  If you didn’t put in your money, the door wouldn’t open.  I always cheated and used the key that opened the side of the machine and grabbed them from underneath free.  I had a thing for Nehi orange soda.

            Sometimes in the morning, I would tag along with dad on the job sites.  We always had to make our first stop at the “Wrangler” diner.  Here dad would get with different people such as contractors or employees and plan out the day.  I always got the pancakes and yet another soda.  Hey, I was with the big boy’s now.  During the rest of the day, I would munch on health food such as peanuts and soda.  The best way to drink a soda is to first pick the right soda.  If you were planning to dine on peanuts also, you had to use Pepsi or Coke from the bottle.  Once you made your selection from the above, you would take a small bag of the finest Planters Peanuts available and put them into the bottle of soda.  The more fizz the better.  There’s nothing like a mouthful of peanuts and Pepsi swishing and crunching at the same time.  This saved time to since you were eating and drinking at the same time.  I was very efficient even back then.  One day we went to a job site that had a bunch of scaffolding in a large bay area.  Of course me without my shoes.  Dad kept telling me to put my shoes on because of the nails lying around.  I found my way up on scaffolding and was minding my own business when dad told me to jump down because we were leaving.  Of course, I jumped…. Right on a big 6-penny nail.  That puppy went clean through my foot between my big toe and second toe about 3 inches back.  Funny thing is it only hurt real bad for a few minutes and then went numb.  Well, during all of the screaming, dad was trying to pull it back out but it wouldn’t move.  After the foot went numb though, he was able to get a pair of pliers on it and give it a good tug.  Didn’t hurt a bit.  What hurt was the tetanus shot I had to get after that.  I swear the needle had a square tip and was as big as a Q-tip.