At the time of my graduation from Johnston High School, my brother was in the army. My parents sold our farm and we headed west, settling in Long Beach, California. Dad bought a laundry and I started working at Western Union and Treasure Island. We returned to Warren, Ohio, a year later as mother had poor health.

I was restless, so I boarded a bus back to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where I had been promised a job at the Hotel Harbor. I had my first taste of the real west; rodeos, hiking, horseback riding in the mountains, and basking in the sun at the Hot Springs Pool. I learned very early not to lie in the sun very long in high altitudes.

Dad passed away suddenly and prematurely at 44. I returned home to Ohio.

Unknown to my mother, I had answered an ad for airline training school. I was quite surprised when a gentleman appeared at our door ready to sign me up. Off I went to Kansas City Missouri. After getting my radio operator license, I was offered a job with National Airlines in Pensacola, Florida, as a teletype/radio operator. While stationed there, I had the opportunity to take mother on a trip to Cuba (before Castro).

When the pilots went on strike, I was transferred to Charleston, South Carolina. I did not care for Charleston, so I applied to the US Air Force which was just surfacing as a separate unit from the U.S. Army. I was in the second group and sent to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, for basic training in November of 1948.

In January of 1949, we boarded a plane to Washington, D.C., to march in the Harry Truman Presidential Parade. The new “blue” uniforms had not been approved, so we had to wear khaki and we wore them proudly. Returning to San Antonio, we were grounded at Montgomery, Alabama, due to weather and were entertained royally and highly publicized. We took the train back to Texas where we received another grand reception. We received our chosen assignments, mine being a radio operator school which meant Illinois. The school was later transferred to Biloxi, Mississippi. I loved it! Next came Lowry Field, Denver, Colorado; Omaha, Nebraska (SAC); and Lowry Field (MATS). By this time I had been a file clerk, message center, radio operator, administrative clerk and was now assigned permanently to the control tower. I was, also, a model for the new “blue” uniform while at Lowry.

(GCA), Ground Controlled Approach was then in the experimental stage. I was sent to Roswell, New Mexico, to be on the first “all-girl” team. We worked in a trailer parked at the end of the runway and we guided planes by radar-scopes to the runway. Actually, we “talked” the plane down, and were training pilots, as well as ourselves. When the wind would change, we had to move to a new runway, level the trailer, and reset the scopes. On night duty, we slept in our clothes in a shed at operations so we could “scramble” on a moment’s notice if a pilot were in trouble. My, how times have changed.

When I worked in the Roswell Tower, I observed the explosion of an atomic bomb at White Sands which was over one hundred miles away. Now, that was scary!

I decided not reenlist in 1952 and returned to Warren, Ohio. I became quite ill. An appendectomy was performed by Dr. Harry Elston, Jr. We were married January 31, 1953. The next six years produced three boys and a girl. Harry was elected Trumbull County Coroner and I did the office work. We moved to Sharon, Pennsylvania, when a new hospital opened. I worked as a volunteer for twenty years and managed the gift shop three years. We purchased a cottage at Pymatuning where we enjoyed learning to sail. We, also, boarded two Mexican students, a brother and sister, and sent them to school so they would have better opportunities when they returned home. After housing a Rotary Exchange Student from Japan, I said, “enough is enough”!

During our marriage, we and our four children drove in a station wagon to Fairbanks, Alaska. . twice. . . camping out along the way. We drove all of the roads we could, and Harry and I flew into the interior to Fort Yukon, fished at the Brooks Range, and on to Anatuvuk Pass where the oil companies were trying to block the migration trails of the caribou. We landed at a village of the Aleut Indians, who were nomads living in tents in the summer and sod huts in winter. They have no roads, no running water, no plumbing nor any modern conveniences. Their only communication with the outside world is by short wave radio, or planes flying overhead who would radio to see if they needed health care, or anything for the next trip. The so-called runway was made of large cobblestones which were known to break the landing gear of small planes bringing in doctors and nurses once a month, or picking up a sick or injured person, or delivering supplies. Teachers are provided by the government and they must serve two years. A man and wife had the duty while we were there.

When we landed, we were met by the village. Kids poked their heads inside the door of plane to see who was there. “Are you doctor”? “Are you nurse?” they asked. They don’t get many visitors. We asked if they had any masks. Most of their living was earned by this craft, and the masks were sold in stores throughout Alaska. This was our way of seeing their living conditions. In the tent, carpet was made of twigs (which was unusual because there weren’t any trees nearby). The bed was a large white polar bear skin on the floor. A swing hung from the tent top with a sling canvas attached to make a crib for their baby. Children grabbed our hands and talked, questions, questions, questions! When we returned to Sharon, I wrote a letter to the school thanking the school children for their hospitality, and sent them a box of “goodies”, tootsie roll pops, bubble gum, and popcorn. It was to be passed out as far as it would go. Long after, I received an envelope in which each of the children had written us a beautiful letter thanking us and telling us of their activities. (I shall never part with those letters).

Back in Fairbanks, with our children, we took a tourist paddlewheel boat down the Tanana River. There had been a drought and the river was low, but were told not to worry as the boat had a steel hull and quite safe. When the hull scraped the bottom, we were all told to go to the rear of the boat and then to the upper deck - to raise the hull. It was finally announced that we had cracked the hull (for the first time), The river was glacial melt and was quite swift with a temperature of thirty-two degrees. We would last about three minutes in the water, BUT they were going to TRY to reach a sandbar. Fortunately, they had a two-way radio on the boat and called their home base. The only food on board was coffee and donuts.

When we landed safely, there was a cabin and were given a real tour of the Alaskan back country. The “frontiersman” had malamute dogs which he used in winter on a dog sled. There was a fish wheel which caught salmon going up river and dumped them in a pen. He gathered, cleaned, dried, and smoked them. He had a food cache, high on stilts, safe from the bears in the winter. He had a squaw who disappeared when we landed and wasn’t seen again. Their cabin was spotless. The so-called refrigerator was a square hole in the cabin floor with a wooden lid. Food was put underneath on the permafrost.

The boat crew, finally, told us we would have to walk out through the woods about a mile to the nearest road which was under construction. They had been given permission for a bus to use the road to pick us up. Black flies tormented us all the way and they were nasty! It was a true Alaskan adventure at the road.

Coming home, we took the train from Whitehorse to Skagway, only to be informed there was a gas leak under our car. We were encouraged to take the car from the flatbed, but my husband was so anxious to go on that train that we patched it with a piece of chewing gum. When we arrived at Skagway we were fortunate to find a mechanic who could fix it in time to catch the boat down the intercoastal waterway. Skagway population was about 500.

Over the years, we traveled to Mexico, England, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Italy, Canary Islands, the Caribbean, and Marrakeesh which looked as if it were still Biblical times. In 1975, Harry and I decided to go our separate ways and I headed for Colorado. I worked in apartment management, in the Record Department for the Denver Police Department, and for the Community Development Agency.

In 1984 I was called to Florida as my step-father could no longer manage his life. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and he passed away eight months later. Mother had passed away in 1974. I fixed his properties, sold most of them, settled his estate, and I went to Green Valley, Arizona, to be with an aunt, 83. I did much hiking and picked up incidental jobs, but Arizona is NOT for me.

Next was a trip to Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti, and Hawaii, before house sitting for friends in Denver. I worked part time for Grandy’s Restaurant as a Granny Marketing Representative, and part time for the Denver Drug Clinic. I could see that these were dead end jobs, so I talked to one of the restaurant customers, Chuck, to see if he would take me with him and three other fellows when they went to California to dredge for gold. I passed inspection after promising to “hold my own” and take scuba lessons.

I purchased a four inch dredge and camping equipment from a garage sale and was off to the Trinity River, Big Bar, California. Two of the fellows left before I arrived and another left when I insisted he pay his share of the expenses. Chuck found a “cutsy” and, since gold was no longer important to him, I was left alone. I lasted three summers, going to Redding in the winter to take care of elderly ladies, and returning in May to set up my camp again along the river. I purchased a larger dredge and a claim of my own.

I will NEVER forget a continuous, dry, lightening storm, and the results. I did not realize what it meant at the time, but when smoke encompassed the whole area, I found out. (Maybe you will remember 1987 and the California fires). People were leaving the river and signing with the U. S. Forest Service to work on the fires. Women worked in the kitchen cooking and making lunches for the firefighters. I decided that I could do that, so, I volunteered.

I was told to take a sleeping bag and clothes that I could layer. A car was hired and I was driven two hundred and fifty miles northwest to a town called Cecilville (where they still had wind-up telephones) and assigned to the Finance Department. and the “timekeepers/ payroll” tent. We slept under lean-to’s on the ground and were warned to check our clothes for scorpions and recluse spiders that liked to climb into nice warm clothes. I was one of two civilians hired. Everyone else was a government employee. I was one of the first to arrive at that camp and observed the whole camp taking form. Besides Indians, there were prisoners from Georgia.

We had two thousand firefighters at our maximum strength. Everyone had to go through our department. One of the Indians collapsed and died when he no longer had the strength to run up a hill. A helicopter was caught in a “back Fire” and three people were killed. We were committed to seventeen hour days, if necessary, with no overtime pay. I worked for four weeks. Fall weather arrived and I knew it was time to go home. I never realized until I left, just how much the dust and smoke had affected my lungs. It was quite a learning experience.

I returned to Big Bar, secured my dredge, and found that I had become a legend in “them thar hills”. It is quite a surprise when a stranger comes up and says, “Can I shake your hand! I just had to meet you”.

I returned to the River the following May. Two brothers were dredging next to me. One drowned on a day I was in town. About a month later, I was asked if l would care to work with their crew as they were short handed. I did not like working alone as it was too dangerous, so we joined forces for two summers. Gold? Ah yes! Ninety eight per cent pure gold nuggets... .I never sold any of mine as I was the first person to have ever seen them and I had worked too hard. I did have jewelry made. It is irreplaceable.

There was much drug dealing in the area. It’s known as the Emerald Triangle. Those not dredging were raising marijuana on forest land. The area crawled with DEA agents in the fall when the crops matured. There were a lot of questionable deals going on. I had the feeling that I was going to get a rattlesnake in my tent when I wouldn’t conform to the macho-men and was given a gun. They didn’t like this “little ‘ole’ lady” infringing on their image. I knew I was out of my league and decided that it was time to call it quits.

I went back to Arizona and found my aunt was actually starving to death. I nursed her back to health and she is still living. . .93. I planned to stay two weeks and stayed a year and a half. (This was 10 years ago and Aunt Carrie Belle is no longer alive)

I saw an item on TV one evening about a Volunteer Tracker Trash Program at Lake Powell, Glen Canyon National Recreation area which is located on the border of Utah and Arizona. Six people go out for five days and pick up trash at the spots frequented by party boats. You work for six hours, early morning and evening, and the rest of the time is yours to fish, swim, or explore the area. You sleep on the boat. I had heard so much about Lake Powell, I said, “Oh boy, just what I want”. I made arrangements for my aunt and drove the four hundred miles north.

Everything I had heard was true. It is a beautiful place. There is a year’s waiting list now to get on any of the Trash Tracker Trips as it is so popular. As I got my things together to leave the boat, I found a piece of beige fur about the size of the palm of my hand on my jeans. When it started to move, I screamed and jumped. The boat captain came running. It was determined it was a “baby tarantula”. They said not to hurt it as it was harmless, and they eat bugs. He picked up the jeans and held it to the dock as the spider sauntered off. If it was a baby, where was its mother? This trip put me on the mailing list of the Department of Interior and I was sent a questionnaire asking if l would care to volunteer anywhere else.

I received a call from Rocky Mountain National Park, and of all places Colorado. Yes, I had been in the Park twice since I had lived in Denver. . Soon I was in Estes Park and got a job in food service at the YMCA of the Rockies which was a room and board situation. This is a large conference center and great for family reunions. We fed about 3000 to 4000 meals a day in the summer, and it is open all year round. It is outstanding for families. I worked here four years off and on, and the General Store for six months. After completing a training course at Rocky Mountain National Park, I worked as a volunteer at the Downtown Visitor and at Sheep Lakes on my days off Sheep Lakes is where the bighorn sheep come down from the mountains after giving birth and surviving the winter living on rocky ledges to escape predators. They partake of the “vitamins” in the mud around the lake. We stop traffic so that they can cross the road safely and manage people, as the sheep are very nervous around humans, and even MORE nervous around coyotes. We had to anticipate the sheep’s every move. My biggest thrill was the day we had ninety-eight ewes and their month-old babies. Two older females (nursemaids) accompanied them and looked after the lambs while their mothers ate the mud. It was the largest group ever seen there at once. What a treat the bystanders got that day!

October is the VOLUNTEER BUGLE CORP FOR THE RUTTING SEASON when the elk come from the high country (tundra). The males gather their harem (which is how many females they can service, thirty to forty, or I should say, how many they THINK they can service). The park has about sixty volunteers during the SEASON which is, also, the turning of the aspen leaves. We have wall-to-wall people and cars that come from many miles around. We keep people away from the ACTIVITY and try to keep some sense of order. You will see five hundred elk or more in an evening, which we must count. Rangers patrol on horseback.

In the winter the elk “hang out” in town, but their favorite place is the golf course. We had three who liked to bed down in our back yard. There were about twenty deer in the yard, also. February-March the bull elks drop their antlers. People follow them around in hopes of picking up a prize. Then the antlers start growing again. It is amazing! It is forbidden to pick up antlers in the park as it is food for the small rodents.

In May of 1994, I left the YMCA and promised myself that I was going to get a job in the park. This is a virtual impossibility, but I was lucky and quite by accident, I landed the one job I wanted at “Bear Lake” for July and August. The elevation is 9,475 feet and it can’t get any better than that! People asked me how I could stand all that beauty, but I just explained that “somebody had to do it.” I loved it!

In the fall, I worked at the Moraine Park Museum, Lily Lake and Headquarters as the park winds down for the winter and employees leave. I am hoping I will get back again this summer for the Rocky Mountain Nature Association. If I don’t, I am sure that something interesting will come along..

My love of nature resulted in a long time desire to visit the Galapagos Islands. It was my birthday present to me in March, 1992, arranged by my son, Tim, and his girlfriend, Donna, a travel agent.

We landed at the capital, Quito, Ecuador, only fifteen miles from the equator, elevation 9,350 feet. We toured the usual churches, monuments and the La Tacunga Market by bus and on to Riobamba where we spent the night. The next day we boarded the Expreso Metropolitan, a steam train, to go through the Andes Mountains. We were permitted to ride “on top of the train.” Yes, I did!

At the DEVIL’S NOSE, the train stops and backs down a thousand foot cliff to a station. We, also, went through three tunnels. I was glad that I had followed instructions and had worn old clothes and sneakers. Since this was the rainy season, the tracks were in very poor condition. The train jumped the tracks three times. The crew had to get off the train and maneuver the wheels back onto the track. We came to a small community, and after some delay, it was announced that there was a train coming in the opposite direction that had mechanical problems and was blocking the tracks. A work crew had to be sent from Quayaquil and it would take a minimum of five hours for repair.

We were given a choice of waiting or walking out to the nearest road which was about one and a half miles. The group opted to walk the tracks through the rain forest, in a pouring rain, past the stalled train AND some of the local residents. It must have been a common occurrence, as it seemed to give them their chuckle for the day. We arrived in Quayaquil at 7:00 P.M., six hours late at our five star hotel. We were a sad mess of humanity.

We boarded a plane the next morning and flew to Baltra Island of the Galapagos, located six hundred miles west of Ecuador and protected by the National Park Service of Ecuador. Of the many islands, only three are inhabited by people. The largest ship allowed in the area is the ninety passenger, SANTA CRUZ, which controls the number of visitors to the islands. A naturalist, speaking several languages, must accompany you to protect the unique plants, trees, birds, and animals which are found no where else in the world. How did they get there? That question has never been answered.

We sailed from island to island during lunch times, and at night as we slept. There are no facilities on the uninhabited islands. I spent a week cruising the islands and swimming, snorkeling, and hiking each island. Sea lions swam with children who screamed with delight. We visited the Darwin Research Laboratory on Sana Cruz Island where there were several giant tortoises. Their eggs are gathered, hatched, and raised until they are five years old. They are then deemed able to survive and are introduced into the ocean, hopefully to preserve the species, as they are nearing extinction.

There were frigate birds, the males inflate their red breasts to attract the females flying overhead during their mating season. The female picks out the one that appeals to her most and dives down to his side , to nest. There were flightless cormorants, birds that cannot fly, but swim for their food. There were beautiful sally crabs looking as if they were hand painted, different species of iguanas that piled on top of each other to keep warm, miniature penguins, several species of finch, and red and blue footed boobies, to name just a few. I was surprised to see pink flamingos who get their color from eating shrimp.

The trip was everything I expected, and then some. Fortunately, I had come from 8000 foot elevation in Colorado, and had done much hiking and was quite comfortable; not so with the “flatlanders”. They had done only three days, but I extended mine to seven. It had been a great time to visit as it was cloudy and the sun was not extreme on the equator. It was the “mating season” of most species and much activity.

MY CHILDREN

James Timothy Elston, born in 1953, attended Penn State University; worked as an animator and artist in Los Angeles and now is a freelance computer animator and web designer. Most recently, he developed a program on dinosaurs for the Museum of Science and Technology in Portland, Oregon, making some thirty five dinosaurs come to life. He lives in Grass Valley, California with his partner Kara and her two sons.

Gary Lee Elston, born in 1955, is a graduate of Youngstown University and is a computer programmer. He is married with his wife Hilma and lives in Newton Falls, Ohio.

Michael Lawrence Elston, born in 1956, is a graduate of Casper College and has his own plumbing business in Casper Wyoming. He is married with four children, ages one to thirteen.

Susan Jane Elston, born in 1959, is a Paralegal College graduate. She lives in Simi Valley, California. She is married and has two children, Angela and Joe. Sue is now a grandmother!

This is a little of what I have been doing since graduation. I have not managed to get to Bryce Canyon yet, but I will. So much to do and so little time….

SO LONG...