Thursday, July 24, 2014

Master Criminals

One of my blogs directed to family members. Hope others aren't bored.

Murphy’s Law has an interesting post up on Arizona’s Petrified Forest.


That dredged up an old fart memory. Around 1955 my parents took a driving vacation and brought along her Wyoming rancher parents. My grandfather was an avid rock hound.

At the Petrified Forest, there were signs everywhere forbidding any removal of anything, with large fines promised. My grandfather collected several small specimens and stashed them in the bumper guards of my father’s 1951 Ford, assuming the rangers would be searching every car as it left. That didn’t happen.

After clearing the area, my grandfather tried to retrieve his loot, but couldn’t get the specimens free. Once back in Wyoming,  he and my father spent the better part of a morning removing the bumper guards. My father had a few, respectful, choice words to say on the subject.

During our next visit, my grandfather presented him with a well crafted petrified wood bolo (string) tie.


Grandfather Era Burtis, Grandmother Hattie Burtis nee Latham, daughters Virginia, Lois, Harriet, and son Ray. Both men had to turn slightly sideways when they went through a doorway. My grandfather always wore bibs. Here he is wearing his "business at the courthouse" hat. 


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