DANIELS TRANSFER, A. W. Daniels, proprietor,

This photo was taken in front of the California Café, in downtown Placerville in 1912. The gentleman on the back of the wagon is my great granddad, Asa Wilder Daniels.  This photo is from an advertisement in the form of a postcard.  The accompanying ad ran in The Placerville Republican & Nugget, and is dated February 14, 1912.  It reads as follows: DANIELS TRANSFER, A. W. Daniels, proprietor, Handles U. S. mail & Wells Fargo Business.  Trunks called for for Sunday and morning trains, and all other trains.  Everything that is moveable taken care of.  Reasonable rates.  Office phone, 433 & Res. 133

PRIMAL PASSIONS

Stark and leafless branches,

Festooned with buds of spring,

While robins dot the greening fields,

And unseen crickets sing;

Evergreen branches dripping ice,

Bright droplets melting snow,

While rivers crest their muddy banks

And tributaries flow;

Up above the timberline,

Granite boulders shed fresh sand,

That’s carried by the snowmelt

To create new spits of land;

Spring’s elixir swells the branches

Of sapling sprigs and shrubs,

While momma bear slips her winter den

To immerge with wrestling cubs;

Crocus struggling toward the light

Through dwindling drifts of snow,

While delighted children send up kites

As balmy breezes blow;

The sigh of old growth evergreens,

As evening breezes shift,

Trout feeding at the sparkling edge

Of an ice flow’s lazy drift;

The roaring of a waterfall

As rainbow mists drift by,

The primordial cry of eagles

And their circles in the sky;

All God’s creatures great and small

Shaking winter’s chills,

While meadows, lifeless days ago,

Erupt in daffodils;

Each one emblematic

Of a fresh, inviting spring,

Alive with opportunities

And all the hope they bring;

And at last the call of northbound geese,

Impervious and free,

Arousing primal passions,

Stirring souls and calling me.

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HIGH SIERRA BLOOD

I’ve always loved the mountains.

Heaven knows I always will.

It was way back during the gold rush,

My momma’s folks arrived in Placerville.

I’ve hiked its peaks and meadows,

With my granddad, as a kid.

If anyone loved the mountains,

My granddad Daniels did.

He hiked them with his granddad,

During Hangtown’s glory days,

Wading creeks and panning gold.

He knew the mountain ways.

Time in the High Sierras

Was my granddad’s greatest joy.

He’d hiked its fields and forests

From the time he was a boy.

Together we camped its lakes and streams,

We feasted on its fish,

Saw heaven from its summits,

Stood awestruck at the stars, and made a wish.

Granddad watched the devastation,

Through seventy-two long years.

The clear-cuts and conflagrations,

And I saw it all reflected in his tears.

The Sierras are resilient,

Sympathetic and forgiving.

Despite the treatment they received,

The Sierras thrived; the Sierras went on living.

But in ‘69 my granddad died.

The foothills lost their luster.

When time came to leave old Placerville,

It took every bit of courage I could muster.

We moved back to Missouri,

The childhood home of Father.

There I met and wed my wife.

God blessed us with a son and with a daughter.

Through the years, I grew to manhood,

Built a home and tilled the earth,

Sought God, and spread Dad’s ashes,           

And saw my grandson’s birth.

Life moves on; we’re given choices.

There are chances we must take.

Freedom can’t assure success.

Freedom’s found in choices that we make.

In the end, our joys dependant,

On what our choices are.

Sometimes you paint your wagon

And follow a wandering star.

So now I’m in the Ozarks.

My choices brought me here.

I’m happy in Missouri,

And heaven knows I hold the Ozarks dear.

And I’ve lived a long and prosperous life,

Beneath God’s bright blue skies,

But my heart pumps High Sierra blood,

And I’ll die with the High Sierra’s in my eyes.

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SMILE & SING & SOAR

High in the Sierra’s where the winds blow free,

When this flesh drops away that’s where I’ll be.

Keep your harp and keep your cloud.

Keep your glum, self-righteous crowd.

I’ll have no use for either there,

When my spirit’s free to take the air.

I say this not to cause you grief.

Don’t worry yourself with my belief.

Don’t shake your fist or wring your hands.

It’s sufficient that God understands.

Don’t stew and fret for the path I’ve trod.

What I believe is between me and God.

High above bright granite peeks,

That’s the heaven my spirit seeks.

Lazy sweeps on the gentle breeze,

At one with stars and streams and trees,

At one with The Lord who created it all,

Keep your heaven, its way too small.

I’ll have no use for flesh up there.

I’ll have no grief, no pain, no care,

No robe of flesh to snag like before.

I’ll only smile and sing and soar,

High in the Sierra’s where the winds blow free

With only the Lord for company.

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SHADES OF HANGTOWN

Placerville, California 

aka Old Hangtown

Sometimes in the evening

When the sun is sinking low,

And the pines are silhouetted

And I’ve nowhere else to go,

I remember good ol’ Placerville

In the distant days of yore,

And I’d very nearly sell my soul

To walk its streets once more.

When its avenues were dusty

And its storefronts weathered wood,

When the girls were thin and lusty

And the Ivy House still stood;

When Main Street ran a rutted course

And blooms were yet a bud,

The only ride to town, a horse,

And gold was in our blood;

When the Hangman’s Tree served nickel beer,

The Cary House was new;

Lamp-lit saloons exuded cheer

And frosty mugs of brew,

The three mile house was always full,

Lake Tahoe days away,

And folks who stopped at Hangtown

Almost always came to stay.

Father in Heaven, hear my prayer.

Dear God, please grant my plea.

If I could just awaken there.

If time could set me free.

If once more I could stroll its streets

And once more breathe its air,

I know there’s soul’s aplenty Lord

Who could benefit from prayer.

Shannon Thomas Casebeer

PATRIOTISM

Passionate opponents shaking hands,

Bipartisan agreement,

Civility and Compromise,

With Handshakes every bit as firm as cement;

Men of every faith and creed,

Embracing just as brothers,

Minister’s preaching from The Word,

With partisan politics strictly left to others;

Politicians serving Country,

Never swayed by greed or money,

But pursuing their forefather’s dream,

Of a peaceful land overflowing with milk and honey;

The perishable torch of liberty,

Impervious and strong,

Tended, celebrated and

Passed faithfully along;

Ignited by founding fathers,

As the goal for which we strive,

Worthy of all sacrifice;

It falls to us to keep that flame alive;

A government of, by and for the people

Bound by freedom’s call;

Unified by our mutual pursuit

Of Truth, Justice and Liberty for all.

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Seemingly endless summers

MORE STUFF I MISS

There’s no sense denying it.

There’s lots of stuff I miss:

Like dancing till I’m soaking wet,

And parting,with a cola scented kiss;

Seemingly endless summers,

Exploring the creek with my coon,

Snipe hunts with the neighbor kids,

Beneath a harvest moon;

Sending away for plastic toys

With cereal box tops I’d saved,

Weekend trips to Tahoe

Before the roads were paved;

Knowing that my momma’s hug

Cured problems great and small,

Be it new math or little girls,

Who didn’t return my call;

Picnics up to Wentworth,

Aunt Macie’s chili beans,

Climbing granite boulders

Till I wore out all my jeans;

Our very first horse, old Patches,

Her canter in a race,

Her powerful strides beneath me,

With the wind upon my face;

Dear friends in the neighborhood,

Hot Jello from a cup,

Our dandy dog, ol’ Rebel,

When he was just a pup;

Marshmallows on graham crackers,

And chocolate galore,

Roasting on a campfire,

While watering mouths anticipated more.

Swimming high Sierra streams

In snowmelt, bright and blue,

Palms caressing while professing

Love forever true;

Holding great grandmother’s hands,

Her blue, pulsating veins,

Marveling at her heritage,

Her youthful joys and unimaginable pains;

The firmness of Dad’s handshake,

The belief he’d live forever.

Thank God for eternal bonds,

Not even death can sever;

Gazing in my dear wife’s eyes,

When she still thought me grand,

When our whole lives lay before us,

And we faced each day together hand in hand;

Those days when both our kids were home,

And each new day brought joy,

The moment that the Doc announced,

Your wife is fine. Your baby is a boy;

Holding our precious daughter,

Swaddled all in pink,

Showing her off to Mom and Dad,

And relishing my father’s blissful wink;

The day my little girl was wed,

Walking her down the aisle,

That first Christmas with our son-in-law,

And my daughter’s blushing smile;

Youthful romance,

Carefree years,  

First embraces,

Kissing away my bride’s elated tears.

Thank you, God for memories,

And the innocence of youth.

Thanks for hope and faith and love,

And incontestable Truth.

Thank you for your Blessings, Lord,

Through everything I’ve done.

May my life reflect Thy mercy, Lord,

And each day find me following Your Son.

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