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Huckleberry Finn got his name because, like huckleberries, he could not be domesticated. |
Montana Moments – Favorite Stories
By: George Noga – August 19, 2018
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This post contains some favorite vignettes about life in Whitefish and NW Montana. The natural setting, adjacent to Glacier National Park, is so spectacular that (unbeknownst to viewers) many commercials you see were filmed here. You can go off the grid in nearby Polebridge which has no Wi-Fi, internet or electricity. Ted (Unabomber) Kaczynski did that for many years not too far away. Enjoy! Bear Bell: The club where I play golf has a “blind” approach to the 18th green. To signal the group behind that it is safe to hit, departing players ring a loud bell as they complete the hole. When the bell inevitably rings, I act surprised and concerned and tell my visiting Florida guests that was the “bear bell“, warning that a grizzly is nearby. It works every time and the reactions from my unsuspecting guests are priceless. Huckleberries: Hucks grow many places in the US, but are especially prized in NW Montana, which has huckleberry ice cream, pancakes, jam, syrup, martinis, etc. Hucks only grow in the wild and cannot be domesticated despite prodigious efforts to do so; that’s how Huckleberry Finn got his moniker – he was wild and undomesticated. Each season there are huckleberry festivals and the status of the current huck crop is a ubiquitous topic among Montanans. Families have secret huck patches handed down through many generations, the locations of which are jealously guarded secrets. Poker Talk: I frequently play Texas Hold’em poker at live games which are legal in Montana. During games, which often last many hours, there is much conversation among the players. Once there was a particularly voluptuous lady in her 40s or 50s playing and a male player remarked several times that she looked “awful familiar” and hadn’t they met before. Finally, when the guy asked again for the umpteenth time, the lady averred, “Maybe you’ve seen me before; do you watch much porn?” Judge Wears Jeans: Even government works better here, as most interactions with citizens are polite and efficient. This is because Whitefish is such a small place that if any government employees behaved imperiously, word would soon get around and they would be shunned. I once went to city court to contest a speeding ticket. Upon entering, I noted the judge wore blue jeans and cowboy boots under his robe. When my turn came, I pointed out there were no speed limit signs posted on the road where I was ticketed. He conferred briefly with his clerk and promptly invalidated my ticket. Great Northern Cabaret: Every Sunday at 9:00 PM there is live cabaret with a new show each month written and produced in Whitefish to incorporate local humor. For example, nearby Butte is the butt of jokes – much like Bithlo is for Central Florida. If you are somewhat priggish, this is not for you. By the way, a Scotch costs only $2.75. Private/Public Partnerships: The 36-hole golf club where I play is governed by a board composed of half public and half private members because originally one course was public and one private before they merged. Whitefish also has “The Wave“, a massive indoor aquatic and fitness facility with pools, lockers, food court and myriad daily activities for all ages. During long winter months, it is so popular (and affordable) that some days 25% of the town’s population goes there. The golf club and The Wave both are well-run, first-rate facilities. Private/public partnerships seem to work in Montana. Next on August 26th we discuss Mokita – truths that no one will discuss.
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By: George Noga – July 25, 2016
During summer I lighten up my blog with anecdotes about my summer home in Whitefish, Montana. Whitefish is sited in the Flathead Valley of NW Montana only 50 miles south of Canada and 100 miles east of the upper panhandle of Idaho. I belong to the Whitefish Lake Golf Club that has a half-century tradition called Derby, which is open to anyone; I have been playing Derby for the past seven or eight summers.
Each Thursday at high noon, anywhere from 15 to 27 golfers are divided into three man scramble teams made as equal as possible by the commissioner, the member in charge of Derby. The commissioner is chosen to maintain the Derby tradition and serves for life. The teams compete with only modest stakes of one dollar per person per hole. This could happen at almost any golf club in the USA, you may be thinking.
Your thinking would be wrong; Derby is unique. For starters, all 15 to 27 golfers play as one group and manage to play 18 holes in about 4.5 hours – an average time for the course. Usually three people hit simultaneously; it is a miracle no one has been injured. Imagine the scene with 27 golfers and 15 golf carts barrelling down a fairway toward an unsuspecting foursome of visiting Canadians. Note: I spent several summers playing in Derby before I learned that drunken Canadian was two words.
What makes Derby special is the eclectic combination of participants. Players range in age from 18 to over 80. Some earn minimum wage; others are multi millionaires. Some are scratch golfers; others are high handicappers. Some lack higher education; others are professionals with doctorate degrees. There are Americans, Canadians and Native Americans. Many are Montanans; others like me hail from throughout the USA.
Some players openly smoke dope while other participants are deputy sheriffs who pretend not to notice. Other players imbibe liberally from adult beverages in ubiquitous coolers in many golf carts. Some do both. There is a cohort of Mormon participants that conveniently ignores strictures against drinking and gambling. Some players have Derby nicknames too ribald to include herein. The repartee is incessant and priceless.
Everyone clearly revels in the camaraderie despite what, on the surface, appear to be wide chasms among the various cohorts: young and old, rich and poor, accomplished golfers and duffers, dishwashers and attorneys, dropouts and PhDs, potheads and law enforcement officers and Mormons coexisting with gambling, drugs and alcohol.
Two factors combine to make Derby an enduring tradition: (1) shared love of golf; and (2) Montana. Derby probably wouldn’t work outside Montana as there clearly is something very special in the air up here. If you golf and visit NW Montana, consider playing in Derby; you will understand why there is nothing quite like it anywhere.
But if you should visit the Treasure State, please don’t stay too long; Montanans are fond of their bumper stickers reading: Welcome to Montana – Now Go Home. Recently, the population of Montana surpassed one million for the first time and the news was greeted universally throughout the state with great sorrow, gloom and melancholy.
The next MLLG post from Montana will be distributed in about a week.
By: George Noga – July14, 2016
A nanny state is being imposed by progressives who believe they know better what is good for us; they began by infantilizing children but are bent on infantilizing all Americans. Age 16 has become the new age 10. Following is a small sample of nanny state regulations promulgated by the federal government and by certain blue states.
These strictures do not constitute mere advice or suggestions on the part of government nor are they attempts to reason or to persuade. They bear the full force of law. Miscreants and scofflaws are subject to the government’s monopoly on the legalized use of force. SWAT teams can and do take children from parents and subject them to the full panoply of horrors common to state agencies.
Amidst all this infantilizing, it is comforting to know parts of the real America still exist. One such place is our summer home of Montana. During summers there is a weekly rodeo near the small town where we stay and a regular event is youth bull riding. Kids as young as 8 ride bulls; to be sure, the bulls are young with their horns cut back and the kids wear helmets. Still, the 500 pound bulls are undomesticated.
At the same rodeo it is common to see teenagers with serious hunting knives (think: Crocodile Dundee) strapped openly to their waists. Imagine the same sight at a blue state junior high school football game. Within an instant panic would set in; heavily armed SWAT teams would fast rope in; and the stadium would be evacuated.
In Montana a youth can get a hunting license at age 11 – and the first one is free. Youth deer hunting season is the Thursday and Friday preceding the opening of regular hunting season in October. So many youths go hunting that all schools in Montana have been forced to close during the two days of youth hunting season.
Infantilization of children is child abuse. Emotional development of victims is hobbled; they are at increased risk of self harm; and they have academic problems and poor social skills. They are averse to responsibility and often fail as adults. Children are but the first victims; it is the aim of progressives to infantilize all Americans and to turn America into a nanny state with government as the nanny and all of us as children. As with all liberal doctrines promising benefits, the end result always is grave harm.
I’m not sure I would want my eight year old to ride a bull or my eleven year old to go deer hunting. I am absolutely certain however that I prefer to live in a place like Montana that leaves such decisions up to parents rather than to the state.
The next post in about 10 days describes a zany Montana golf tradition – Derby!