Ode to Art

This gallery contains 2 photos.

My mother bid Art into my life as she prayed over her ‘babe in womb’—“if the child is a girl let her sing”—then sang excerpts of her favorite arias for my lullabies that wove a musical cloth into my bunting. … Continue reading

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The Book of Wellington Part 6

Workmates

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WORKMATES

 

MEETING RANDY BOWLES: A LIFETIME EXPERIENCE

Fred and Randy first met when Fred’s company, Oregon Food Service, was a distributor for Proctor & Gamble, Randy’s company. Randy and Fred became road buddies, terrorizing the Bend area. Golf also was a major part of their life, and while playing East Moreland one fine day they were teamed up with a guy from Flavor Pack. Randy schmoozed him with flair, and moved to Flav- R-Pac, his new career for life!

Randy liked his toys. One Saturday he showed up at Fred’s house on a very, very old motorcycle (probably almost his age now). Somehow Fred was coerced into taking a little ride—the gears jammed and Freddy went flying head over heels and ended up under an approaching car. Luckily it saw him flying and stopped with Fred just underneath the bumper of the car. Randy, with little remorse, took his toy and went home!

One day Randy told Fred about a gal he had met who was singing at the Pickle Barrel Tavern over by the Lloyd Center. He raved about her and Fred went with him to hear this wonder of wonders! Although Randy called her “Songbird,” Fred found out her name was really Cathy Lunsford.

Shortly after that both boys got really romantic. Fred married Judy and introduced her to Randy and the Songbird. A little while later, Randy finally swept Cathy off her feet and they got married.

Wedding

As good friends often do, Judy stood up for Cathy

It was at the reception that the Pfau’s found out the Bowles’ had some really strangely-dressed friends:

Reception

Well, life rolled on, and on, and on, and on, and some of us survived the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s. Christmas cards came and went, children were raised, people moved, but friendship remained.

Cathy and Judy still ran Randy’s and Fred’s lives in 2001. We caught up again in Eagle Crest with some great drinks, food and golf. Everyone looked just the same!!! What a miracle!!!.

Fred-Judy

WELCOME TO YOUR 60’S, MILORD RANDOLPH!! Fred & Judy Pfau

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A “Ducks” story by Jack Ramsey Story 1

Randy and I both worked for Procter & Gamble and when I was in Portland I always stayed at the Benson hotel. One night after work Randy and I were in my room and I called my wife to check in while Randy used the bathroom. All of a sudden I heard noise of running water over the phone. My wife kept saying, “what’s that noise?” I kept saying, ” I don’t know isn’t it on your end?” Well you guessed it, the Benson had phones in the bathrooms and Randy was peeing holding the phone down by the toilet. He came out of the bathroom just cracking up. I never told my wife the true story.

Story 2

We had liquid oil called Prep that was to be used for pan and griddle frying. It was supposed to replace butter or margarine. Randy had an account that he convinced that he should deep fry his chicken and French fries in Prep because it would make them golden brown and impart a buttery flavor. Now keep in mind that P & G had the number 1 selling liquid frying oil, a brand called Frymax which would withstand the intense heat and constant use of deep frying. Of course P & G had the best minds in the food industry testing these products and they said Prep should not be used for deep frying. But Randy knew better, and he had his own little test market. He was so excited until after a few days in the deep fryer the Prep started smoking, gumming and turning black. Randy’s test market concluded at that point!

Love Ya Ducks, The Ram Jet

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Ron Martell

1. Calling his Mother-in-Law late at night while on a business trip because he thought something was wrong at home due to repeatedly getting a “disconnect” recording. Randy was calling the wrong number.

2. Randy washes his workout clothes at the office locker room by showering while wearing them.

3. Making Cathy time him with a stop watch practicing getting the shotgun from under the bed in the dark in case a burglar breaks in.( Randy who can’t see his hand in front of his face without his glasses on.)

4. The load of bark dust he ordered dumped in the driveway because he didn’t want to pay the extra to have it blown all the way to the back yard. The pile remained there for……months. Or the other bark dust story…when he had it delivered while Cathy’s car was in the garage and couldn’t get out until the pile was gone…..weeks later.

5. Trying to get the squirrel out of the attic, but instead, sealing it in.

6. Trying to get into the wrong hotel room and arguing with the irate occupant. Security was called and brought him to the room he was supposed to be in.

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Dave Stafford

My first question is…”Why Are We All Assembled To Honor One Man?” Is it because he’s a great politician? NO…Is he a terrific sport star?…NO….Is he a great lover…DEFINITLY NO! Soooooo, who is HE?

He’s a man who has a great capability to ‘laugh’ at himself, making others laugh hysterically. He’s one that dresses up like an Alaskan musher to perhaps scare a Raccoon hiding in his home.

He carries a bowl and a spoon in Sun River, searching for cereal that he forgot to buy for the family vacation. He sits in his backyard with a shotgun and scotch waiting for the mole that is destroying his yard. He goes to the NRA in Chicago, gets drunk on the plane but has enough dignity to ‘tip’ the doorman, lying in the gutter of the curb. He is notorious for losing keys and melting his Hide-A-Key container because it’s too close to the muffler. He’s been known to set friends carpeting on fire during a bathroom fiasco, then never being invited back. He’s perfectly comfortable remembering every shot during his OWN golf round, while being unable to remember just ONE shot his opponent might have made.

HE IS RANDY BOWLES !!!

This MAN…now revealed…Randy Bowles has more CHARACTER in his ‘pinkie’ than 95% of any human being I’ve ever met. He exudes strength, is a protector of his family, highly ethical, honest (to a fault), great father and even a better husband, expresses love for family & friends, bends over backwards in his generosity to others, is a loyal friend..(paramount among males), and is incredibly COMPASSIONATE. Which leads me to a personal experience I’d like to share….

Anyone that knows ‘Uncle Davey’ knows that the past 3 years could be referred to a ‘Bad Vegas Roll’. Last summer while golfing at OLCC…I went into a deep depression, becoming close to comatose during the round. Being abnormally ‘quiet’ for 17 holes and Randy sensing my distraction and discomfort we came to the 18th hole. After hitting our drives, we drove to my ball. Randy gets out of the cart…picks up 4 crow feathers, turns to me in the cart and says….”Hey Dave, you think you’re having a bad day?…this guy was on the wrong side of the meal !!” The comment turned my mental state in a moment and I ended up laughing hysterically. Randy…YOU ARE THE BEST AND MY FRIEND FOR LIFE. Much Love on Your 60th- Dave Stafford

Click here to read The Book of Wellington Part 7

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The Book of Wellington Part 5

 

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VOLLEYBALL MATES

To His Royal Highness,

Randolph Wellington Bowles

On the special celebration of his 60th Birthday

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1978

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Randy has always considered himself Royalty, but in reality he can sometimes be a P_ _ _ _!! And who is your Indian friend?

We’ve had so many good times together over the years, who can remember them all? The football parties, golf outings, volleyball trips, BICT parties and dinners at the hindquarter, to name a few. How can you be 60 already? You’re just a kid at heart.

Here are just a few of our stories.

Randy and Cathy became our neighbors and later our “house guests” in January 1978. Randy in his infinite wisdom removed the wood stove from the middle of his living room to prevent their infant son, Drayton, from getting burned. The following week an ice and snowstorm hit the area and our power went out. Couldn’t go to a Motel because we couldn’t get our car down our steep driveway.

That evening the doorbell rang and there stood Randy, Cathy and Drayton, and a couple and their little girl, friends visiting from Denmark. They were shivering in the cold. We invited them to join us around our roaring fire. We cooked Gourmet meals on our camp stove and sat huddled around the fire and sang songs as Cathy and her friend played guitars. We had many laughs and jokes were told, as you can imagine with Randy around. Cocktail hour, which arrived earlier each day, found us with sufficient ice for our drinks by breaking off the icicles from the house. We had more fun than if we would have been there alone! What a 5 days!

Sometime in the ‘70’s Roger Baker, Craig Fergus, Tom and Randy were in Sun River for a golf outing. They had a nice, friendly gambling game going. Baker and Bowles are known to have a few beers on the golf course. As was the case this day. They got to the 17th hole, Par 3, Randy had honors. The sign says it is 138 yards to the green. He took his 8 iron and hits a perfect shot. Unfortunately it landed 42 yards short! He was flabbergasted! They informed him that it was 182 yards from the back tee, which they were playing. Typical of Randy, he wanted to hit the ball again because no one had told him it was 182 yards and not 138 yards. But, the guys told him that according to the Royal and Ancient golf rules he could not hit again. His request was denied. Baker and Tom won because of his bonehead play.

At the volleyball Nationals in Dayton, Ohio Randy had a fake phone with an authentic ring. Remember, this was before everyone had a cell phone. During a timeout, Randy triggered the loud ring. Randy answered it and handed it to the Referee saying, “it’s for you”. The Ref was dumfounded!

Here’s to you, Randy on your big 60! And wishing you many, many more fun-filled years.

In love and friendship,

IceStorm

Tom and Marilyn Becic

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RANDOLPH WELLINGTON BOWLES A Friend for all Seasons

By Philip White

In the spring of my life, when everything was still fresh and new, and all things still seemed possible, a tall, crazy guy came into the locker room and my life — and was to become my best buddy and a major influence throughout the seasons of my life.

He’s a loveable, energetic guy, who loves all of life and whose motto should be “Hail-fellow-well-met” — who believes strongly in the loyalty of friends and works hard at maintaining those ties — even if you sometimes shake your head at the outcomes.

On the evening of the 1977 ice storm, Randy and I had been at our favorite watering hole, and I, of course, needed a ride up the hill to home. Randy, being the ever present friend, agrees to run me up the hill. But being a true friend, he agrees (after much pimping) to take me down the steep hill right to my driveway. Randy’s better judgment did not get in the way of trying something — well, as you can imagine, Randy’s car got stuck and he couldn’t get home — nor did he really want to, since he had no power and we did. Poor Cathy and Drayton, but “the King lives on in luxury”!

The spring of our lives found Randy and I sharing many adventures that only two good buddies with beautiful bodies can enjoy — after all, as we’ve always said, “You’ve got to love yourself first, before you can love anybody else!” — and we practice that to the hilt.

Volleyball often took us on the road for tournaments, and our obsession with always “be styling” really came out. We would go nowhere ‘til our morning routine was complete, which took awhile with only one bathroom. One particular Vancouver, BC tournament, Randy’s image was shattered when he tore a muscle in his calf. He was moaning and groaning and I, the ever-helpful friend, suggested that the DMSO would get him well in a hurry. In addition, we heaped the “Red Hot” ointment on also, which caused a huge reaction and swelled his leg like a balloon. Not very stylin’ Randy. Again, poor Cathy, as we deposited him back home for recuperation.

As the spring of our lives turned to the “heyday” or summer of our lives, and in spite of many snafu’s, our friendship grew. During our best years, Randy really helped me get the store going. He was not only a fabulous customer — he was a great bird-dog — always sending new customers my way and talking up the store to anyone who would listen.

Randy was a featured model often in The Phillip Stewart ads. He was always looking his stylin’ self and the store became his second home. In fact, when I turned 40, Randy was a big player — leading the pack in that zany ‘Men Only’ celebration night starting at the store. By the time the 50th rolled around, Randy helped Carol plan and MC’ed the party at the MAC — our other home. Of course, Carol nearly killed Randy before it was all over. Typical Randy, two minutes before the party starts, comes in with his assigned slides — but they have not been ordered or put in the tray. Never plan ahead.

Randy was a great support to me during stressful times as well as fun times. As my life changed, Randy was instrumental in opening a new chapter of my life.

When Carol and I got married, Cathy and Randy stood up for us and helped us celebrate that very special time in our lives. He again led the charge at the reception with a fun and witty recap of times gone by.

Kids grew up, beautiful bodies aged, hair turned gray and relationships changed, but through it all, Randy was right there. As we enter the fall of our lives, time has become more available for fun times and more laughs.

On one of our travels together, the four of us went to Scotland and Ireland, and what a time we had. Randy had lost his golf clubs before we ever left the states, and his wallet before the money ran out. But, in his typical style, you can’t get mad at him — only shake your head and let the good times roll…

A late evening return by train from Edinburgh found Randy driving the Van. We turned here and turned there, trying to follow our “bread crumbs” back to the B&B — but 15 minutes later found ourselves right back at the train station. “Holy shit” exclaims Randy, “we’re right back where we started!” No shit, Sherlock….

At Bally Bunion, we had a lovely golfing afternoon. Cathy and Carol had their rental clubs returned, their shoes changed, hair combed, and in the Van awaiting the guys who needed to merely walk to the Van. They waited…..and waited….and still no boys. Cathy went to investigate as dusk was setting in. There the boys are, sitting dejectedly on a bench. “What’s wrong?” she asked warily. “I’ve looked and looked, and my wallet is no where to be found. We’re going to have to re-walk the course to find it”. Cathy, rolling her eyes, offers “Let me look through your bag again”. Out comes the jacket, –Plop– on the floor falls the wallet. “But I swear, it wasn’t there when I looked!” exclaims a bewildered RB — yet again.

As we look forward to the winter of our lives, I cherish the thought of growing old with my buddy. We’ll slow down a little, but not too much — we have too much pride to let THAT happen! No sitting on the bench feeding the pigeons for us! Maybe sitting on the bench showing the girls our beautiful bodies, but no pigeons for us.

More laughs, and new eventful sagas to tell at his next wake. I know we’ll have a lot of golf, more travel, a lot of toasting and boasting, One thing I know for sure, he’ll still be my friend– for all seasons.

Phil White

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Story by Joe Moran

“Randolph Wellington Bowles III”…………………..is how he introduced himself to me the first day I met him. I do not actually recall but he may have added “Stay close to me if you want learn everything”.

He was reading the Sunday paper in the kitchen of the Army Reserve hall where I had just joined as a buck private. Randy had been in the military for 2 years and he too was a buck private. A buck private cook! (Tough place to get promotions? Not for most!)

During our illustrious military campaign together we introduced, practiced and perfected many of the covert ops that are practiced (nay copied) by many secret, government agencies throughout the world even today. We were on the cusp of invention of how to get away with anything you wanted. Randy was the master. I the student, a grasshopper.

To this day I still profess “when I grow up I want to be just like him”. And with no second thought I share with you the secret to his secrets:

When you decide to do something….do it! If you decide you have done enough military things by 10:00 in the AM, then leave! If you felt you needed a beer at 2:00 in the PM, then go get a beer! If the Songbird must be caged, then capture her heart. That was Randy’s MO….. Military Operation, Motus Operandi, Making Out, Moving On. It all fit!

While we were attending summer camp for 2 weeks (sited at Sears Hall on SW Multnomah Blvd. and at Portland Community College) keep in mind that this was the military and this is where they chose to have us do annual training……in our home town, where we knew all the bars, all the women and all the ways to do exactly what we were not supposed to do. Further bear in mind that this is the same military unit that some time later actually scheduled and held a 2 weeks summer camp at Treasure Island in (no, not Las Vegas) San Francisco Bay just 2 miles from downtown San Francisco. Was that a bad idea on their part or what?

But I digress…………….back in Portland, I had the privilege of accompanying Randy to the Hindquarter Restaurant in Lake Oswego where and when he met a fresh young singer billed as Mary Catherine Lunsford……….an angel to whom Randy gave the “Songbird” moniker. During this 2 weeks stint our daily, military newsletter kept the entire military machine up-to-date with each of Randy’s visits to see his “Songbird” at the HQ. (Sorry, for you military purists that is The Hindquarter not Headquarters). The Author of that letter was Sgt. Jim “Otto” Homolka. He helped promote (that is to encourage and not to indicate Randy was promoted) Randy’s pursuit of what we thought was the unobtainable. Members of the unit were actually arriving each evening at the HQ just to see Randy in action. We were all there to find some action….but it was Randy who found all the action he could ever handle.

Now that brief introduction was to set the stage for the story about Randy that I want to share.

Again it was military. Again it was summer camp. Again it was with Randy. Randy was (I think) once again a buck private after a short stint as a corporal. (I think the reduction was caused by cutbacks in military spending.)

Summer Camp at Camp Roberts, California-Situation:

Randy is a cook with the 364th Civil Affairs unit of the US Army. I was pressed into service to be the ranking Non-Com (don’t worry about what that means as it was and is not that impressive or important). I had now been in the military 3 years to Randy’s 5 years. I out ranked him by 3 or 4 grade-in-rank (military talk for “Randy had a problem with dealing with military protocol”.)

Location: We arrived at this hotter-than-hell location half way between somewhere and Paso Robles, CA. So hot that during certain hours in the heat of the day it was forbidden to be in certain exposed places for fear of heat stroke or exhaustion (it was also a good idea to keep certain personal things from being exposed as they would get singed).

Stipulation: The first day on location we were assigned the obligation to man the officer’s mess hall for meals 3 times a day, seven days a week. We split these duties with 2 other reserve units. Randy, Pat Sweeney and I (thee were several others but this story is about Randy) managed to negotiate with the other units that we would be on duty for alternating days leaving part of two days in a row with free time. Now we further negotiated that we would take 2 days in a row and then switch with another unit taking their day of obligation and before you knew it we had 4 days in a row off duty. But we agreed to take the first 2 days (Saturday, the day we arrived after 4:00 pm and too late to provide meals and Sunday when no one would be around to have to feed.)

We rented a car for our stay and decided to drive to Paso Robles for a sight seeing tour and beer. We found the beer. In a small, hot cantina we happened on some of the local farm workers playing pool and our bashful Randy immediately got into the play. After having completed the break one of the local patrons addressed Randy, “Senior, what do you have (referring of course to the ball numbers….solid or strips, big ones or little ones)”? Randy responded, “I have the big ones, you know the ones with the strips!” (Helping with the language barrier no doubt) to which the competitor lashed back to Randy: ”Si, I know the strips are the big ones, what do you think……I just got off a lettuce truck?” ( I have never seen Randy laugh so hard to learn there is a pecking order in the lettuce fields and being on the truck must be like being a buck private!).

Now the rest of the story…………..

Randy, Pat and I having maneuvered 4 straight days of time off sped off to Capitola, California which is located next to Santa Cruz, CA where Randy’s parents lived. Capitola is where the Bowles family had a cabin over looking Monterey Bay. That is where we were stuck for 4 days at a time (we actually had to return for a 2 day stretch to complete actual military obligations at Camp Roberts).

After setting up camp at the cabin we set off to recon the local terrain. A case of beer and to the beach to watch Randy play volleyball for……….well as long as the case of beer lasted. That evening we patronized the local hot spot known as “The Crow’s Nest” at the marina. Good food (we heard). Well what a night it turned out to be. Randy, Pat and…………

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Memo from Craig Fergus

It was my third year of playing golf and I was about a 17 handicap.

Randy asked if I would like to be in his member guest tournament for the small fee of $150.00. I was excited and said ok. We had one practice round. It was the first or second time I had ever played at Oswego Lake.

At the Thursday night dinner we were into the cups and made several confident bets after playing a good practice round earlier in the day. The game plan was an early breakfast, and hit a few range balls before the shotgun. Arrival time was 7:00 AM. I

arrived about 5 minutes to 7 the next morning and got a table for Randy and me. I waited about 35 minutes….no Randy. I decided to eat and after breakfast…still no Randy. Panic started to set in as I approached the starters table . . . ALONE!

They told me that we would start on the thirteenth hole. I had no idea where that was. I could not call Randy because he had a private number. At about 3 minutes to 8 an assistant pro steered me out to the 13th and I was in a complete panic because it was best ball. I bogged the 13th and went to the 14th, and after teeing off we all see Randy being carted up to the 14th where the other two players allowed the idiot to tee off. He promptly sliced on into the trees and recovered with a triple bogie…after getting the story that it was a sleep deprivation problem. I started chasing him with my driver and thinking of the bets we had made the night before!!!

Needless to say we got our asses kicked. What a wonderful first member guest tournament!

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Stowell
A Picture is worth 1000 words!

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Click here to read The Book of Wellington Part 6

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“I am a child of the sixties, and I do not go into that dark night, quietly,” I recently told a friend. Continue reading

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The Book of Wellington Part 4

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ANCIENT FRIENDS

Story by Gary Bracelin

I have had the distinct honor of being one of Randy Bowles’ buddies over the years… This guy can be described as a true American Classic. From the first time I met him until today, he is always a joy to be around….

The very first time I met the birthday boy was at a summer yard party at his home. Jim Hughes invites Jan and me along to the fun. As Randy walks up to greet us and shake our hands, Hughes slaps on a handcuff to Randy’s wrist that just happened to be cuffed to a piece of lawn furniture. Guess who got to spend the rest of the afternoon in front of all his guests cuffed to his lawn chair. Very funny….

On one weekend trip to a mountain cabin we are playing a word game with out the help of a Dictionary….. After a hot dispute over the meaning of a word, Randy has us pull over at the first farm house we come to where by he marches up to the door, gets the people to give him the dictionary and away we went. Oh, the rest of the story was it was eleven o’clock at night and he got the people out of bed……Only Bowles…….

If you have never gone to a football game with him you owe it to yourself to try it once… His idea of a tail gate party is to stop by any group of people when he is hungry or thirsty and just ask if they happen to have any extra beer or food… He does offer to pay them for their kindness but 90% of the time it’s free… This takes a little bit of getting use to but after a few times you get the hang of it and away you go….

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The Book of Wellington Part 3

UNIVERSITY CHUMS

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Story by John Harris

First Impression–What an Asshole!

I attended Willamette University. Before my freshman year began, I pledged Phi Delta Theta fraternity. I lived only 60 miles from the University, so my mom and dad drove me down on the day I was supposed to check into the fraternity house prior to starting school. I was told where my room would be. It was a small room for two people–a bed, closet, dresser and desk on each side of the room. My dear mother took the time to make up a bed, put my clothes away and straighten up my desk. We then went out to dinner. I returned much later that evening, after saying goodbye to the parents. I quietly opened the door to my room to find my bedding, clothes and other items thrown to the other side of the room, and some stranger, sleeping like a baby, in the bed that my mother had so painstakingly made up hours before. Still naive, and not wanting to cause a ruckus in my new home, I made up the other bed and went to sleep. The next morning, finding the stranger to be a little bigger than me, I decided it prudent to approach the subject gently. After introducing myself, I casually mentioned that I had arrived early and made up the bed that he ended up sleeping in. Randy’s response was very straight forward; he said he “preferred that side of the room”. I’ve always appreciated brevity, honesty and a direct approach to things, so I said OK and let it go. I begrudgingly started to like him (how can you help it!!) until——-

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Book of Wellington Part 2

Milord’s Family Lore 

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Milord Randyland Story Volume One: The Car By Prince Andrew 

Growing up my dad drove a BIG BLACK shinny car with RED PIN STRIPES down each side. I’m not talkin’ big by today’s PC, GAS Constrained, Spotted Owl huggin’ standards. The series of Oldsmobile sleds that graced our driveway and pulled up at various sporting events, Cub Scout gatherings, and Parent Teacher Conferences were behemoths. It was clear from my earliest recollection of school that Dad’s car wasn’t normal. According to Dad it had all the “Bells & Whistles.” But it was the very package, the presentation if you will, that drew one to conclude that this must be a PIMP WAGON.

Pimpmobile Dad wasn’t a ‘car guy.’ We didn’t have much more than a few screw drivers and a hammer in the garage at home, but he clearly liked luxury. As a kid I once asked my Dad how he selected his Oldsmobile. And boy was I surprised when he came back with the fact that every three years he received a glossy catalogue and sat at his desk to choose the latest in a long line of black & red love machines. Saab

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The Book of Wellington Part 1

 Milord Randolph Wellington Bowles

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A series of excerpts from the entire book, which is made possible through the compilation of stories submitted by the many friends and family of Milord.

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The Book of Wellington

by Milady MCatherine

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