Adventure 656: Memoriam for George Esher Williams Jr.-Part One

We took an overnighter to Lewiston, Idaho, the town of my birth and the home of my father through his formative years. Our intent was to scatter some of Dad's ashes in places he lived. There will be another phase in Coeur d' Alene where I will scatter a few ashes on the hillside formerly owned by my great grandmother where George spent time as a kid. The final phase will be in Bend on Dad's birthday (July31) where we'll place the final bits in a grave next to Margaret, George's wife of over fifty years. We stayed overnight in Hell's Gate State Park. We drove around Lewiston finding sites, and afterwards we spent some hours hiking the trails around the state park. It was a good overnighter. And in cribbage news, the Cager fell in three games to forfeit the Hell's Gate Championship.

Arguably the best time of year to tour the Palouse.

We did couple of five mile loops on the hillside trails above and behind the state park. They are clearly marked and service hikers, bikers, and horse riders, and range from easy to difficult. The view from the ridge trail is especially nice.

For dinner we ordered take out from the deliciously decadent Effie Tavern, a downtown dive home to the  famous one pound dinner plate sized Effie burger.

One will feed four. In this case, one fed two. We had to take two cracks at it.

Dad grew up in the Lewiston Orchards near the corner of 23rd street and Grelle. It has fallen into disrepair in the seventy years since he lived there. When grandpa George and grandma Rosa and their six kids lived there, the place was pristine. I sprinkled some of George Jr. next to the patch of lilac bushes in the front yard.

I'm not sure, but these bird houses could date from Geroge's time.

Grandpa and Grandma moved to this house at some point after their kids were grown. My brother Tom and I lived here with them and George after my parents split. Many memories flooded back, including one scary one that surfaced. See the top window in the front. I was in a sniper's position with my bb gun. Tom was in the front yard. I caught him right in the cheek just under his eye. I thought the gun was unloaded, but one bb remained. Needless to say, I lost bb gun privileges, got the razor strap across my bare bottom, and have lived with the memory seared into my cranium ever since. Other memories, too many to count, are much better. We sprinkled a little of George here.

I lived in this house until my parents separated when I was in fourth grade. More memories... including climbing the now defunct fir tree next to the house. Tom and I were swinging like weights on a metronome when Mom ran our and screamed her warning note, "Timothy Allen, Thomas Michael, get down from there this minute." We sprinkled a little of George here.

We  also took time to visit my  Mom's parents who lay at rest in the Lewis and Clark Memorial Garden.

We sprinkled the last bit we had in the swim area along the Snake River where Dad used to take us swimming as kids.

Judy said a few prayers; I wished him peace.

The cops are still looking for a Wiley Cager with a handful of lilacs.

Wildly successful journey to the old home town.