Chance encounters: colorful character slings fish in Hermiston

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 30, 2016 12:01AM

Through my work as a journalist, I get to meet all types of unique and colorful characters. And recently, I came to know Captain Jonny.

My first contact with Captain Jonny Rush was this past April as he was getting ready to come to Eastern Oregon for a Cinco de Mayo Seafood Circus in Milton-Freewater.

The first thing I learned about Captain Jonny is that he’s quite the talker. Rush, AKA Carl Trentadue, is an eccentric fishmonger.

He sells salmon, halibut, sea bass, ling, shrimp and whatever else is biting out of a bus named Red Dog. More than a fish market on wheels, the 1974 GMC Thomas bus also serves as a traveling billboard and catch-all for artwork, souvenirs and memorabilia from Rush’s music career.

I heard the captain’s familiar voice last week when he called to tell me he was coming to Hermiston. Parked next to C&C Secondhand, 30654 Baggett Lane, which is located off Highway 395 between Hermiston and Umatilla, Rush is hawking fish in the area as long as he can stand the heat.

Rush says he moves with the tide.

“The freeway is my ocean and the beaches are my rest area,” he said.

The captain isn’t exactly sure how long he’ll be in Hermiston during this trip, but likely at least through Sept. 10. It depends on how quickly the fish moves, he said. However, he’s offering a Red, White and Blue Labor Day special during his entire stay. He plans on giving away samples of salmon to people that stop in. If you have a few minutes to chat, you can call him at 503-860-1851 to make sure he hasn’t drifted with the tide.

Rush began slinging fish nearly 20 years ago. An opportunity to make some money fell into the longtime Washington resident’s lap when he was in Rapid City, South Dakota.

“Captain Jonny had a van and one freezer. Broke and didn’t have a dime, he sold 15 cases of shrimp and that’s how he learned how to do it,” Rush said, referring to himself in the third person.

For some photo opportunities and interesting conversation — and maybe pick up some fish — drive along Highway 395 and look for the red bus. You can’t miss it with the flashing lights. Also, it’s covered with everything from masks and flags to statues, corks and nets. In addition, there are signs advertising a variety of fish.

“It’s a sight to see,” Captain Jonny said.

Indeed it is.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Stay-cation results in home-grown fun

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 16, 2016 7:09PM

I recently took a couple of days off and hung around Hermiston for a long weekend.

I rarely do stay-cations. However, that may change in the future — it’s a great way to get away from work for a bit without your pocketbook taking a major hit. I got to spend time with some of my favorite people (and canines) doing fun things.

Thanks to a lucky draw at work, I won tickets to Thursday night’s Farm-City Pro Rodeo. My husband, John, and I even got hospitality tent passes for a free dinner.

I’ve been to a number of rodeos over the years, including that one in Pendleton. And, all I gotta say is Farm-City is the best — hands down! There’s nothing quite like being in a box seat so close to the action that dirt from the arena flies into your lap.

John and I took our German shepherds, Lucifer and the General, to the river Friday morning. We had great fun taking a dip in the water and pretty much had the beach to ourselves.

I do have a shiner below my left eye. In his exuberance, the General rammed my sunglasses into my face. I think the goofy guy thought I was hiding from him (we often play hide-and-seek) and ran smack dab into me.

Although the reason for the event was a somber one, Ron’s Pink Memorial Party was one crazy gathering. Held Friday night in the Let ‘er Buck Room, it celebrated the life of a guy I knew through my previous job with Umatilla County.

Ron Fisher died Aug. 4 in a freak car wreck in Baker City. The shindig was pretty wild with most everyone wearing pink. In addition, the officiant was a drag queen — with great legs, I might add.

The thing that struck me is how cool it was that his family and close friends threw the type of party Ron would have loved to attend. Ron wasn’t a stuffed shirt type of guy — neither was the farewell gathering held in his honor.

On Saturday, John and I enjoyed looking at exhibits at the Umatilla County Fair. Oh, and sampling some fine huckleberry desserts.

In the evening, we headed to Hermiston Super Oval for the School Bus Trailer Races. I even got to ride in one of the buses. It was before the actual bus races and was supposed to be for kids (and their accompanying parents). I sort of nonchalantly got in line and climbed aboard. I’m a kid at heart.

After watching the hornets and legends race, the grand finale featured full-sized school buses dragging trailers and racing through the figure-8.

Seriously, take a moment and visualize that. Sparks flew and trailers were destroyed! The last bus with a trailer still attached was declared the winner. I laughed. I laughed a lot.

Sunday provided some much-needed girlfriend time. I went golfing with my besties, Carol Greene and Deana Cordell.

With our busy schedules, it’s been awhile since the three of us have shared face-to-face time together. In addition to taking selfies, posting on Facebook and making plans for our annual fall trip to the coast, we also swung our clubs a few times.

I returned to work Monday morning — reading emails, making phone calls and typing some words. I think I need another stay-cation.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Tour de Oregon provides connection with family

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 3, 2016 10:42AM

I recently completed what my mom called a “mission of love and mercy.”

Encompassing more than 1,300 miles, my Tour de Oregon came as a result of my aunt Willamae Holt’s death at the end of May.

I knew lots of people would be around to comfort my uncle Jim, my cousins and my mom during the memorial service. Instead of making a quick trip to Medford, I decided to spend quality time with family in the weeks afterward.

“You don’t know how special that trip was,” my mom recently told me on the phone. “It was perfect timing because there were lots of family and friends after Willie died. After awhile, people don’t reach out as much but we’re still grieving.”

The first leg of the trip took me to Coos Bay to see my folks. We didn’t do anything extraordinary — thrift store shopping, a drive to the beach and out to eat a few times. But the moments were special.

My mom seems to become a night owl when I’m in town. She laughed and cried while reminiscing about her big sis. Sharing about their special bond, she again apologized for not giving me a sister.

I always tell her I have a couple of close friends that are like sisters. And, even if time passes between our visits, the connection with my cousins is special.

Many people say cousins are our first friends as children. That certainly is the case with Laura and Lynda. Growing up, family vacations often included trips to visit them.

We shared lots of fun times and childhood diseases — one summer I exposed everyone to the mumps. When we moved to Jackson County, I had the advantage of instant friends when starting a new school.

With Coos Bay in the rear view mirror, I headed to Medford to visit Lynda and uncle Jim. The Fourth of July weekend provided opportunities to spend time with Lynda’s son, grandson, oldest daughter and niece.

Quite the character, uncle Jim suggested we should become “blood brothers” since we aren’t actually blood relatives. Even at 81 years old, he was game for our adventures. He said he needed to keep a close watch on Lynda and I to make sure we didn’t end up in jail.

I came home long enough to work a few days, do some laundry and re-pack my bags before heading to Joseph. Laura and her husband, James, live in a beautiful slice of paradise above Wallowa Lake.

We enjoyed the outdoors and savored our share of good food. And, I learned my cousin was a bit of an Annie Oakley — picking off some of the pesky varmints that destroy the trees from her deck.

An added bonus, I got to see Laura’s son, Matt, and survived as a wedding crasher even though the officiant was armed with a six-shooter.

I embarked on this journey without specific plans, other than to connect with family. Mission accomplished!

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Husband’s retirement brings reflection, projection

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on July 12, 2016 11:01AM

In 1985, my husband and I packed our belongings and headed to Eastern Oregon.

When we drove to Umatilla for John’s interview, neither of us had ever been beyond The Dalles.

“It’s looking a lot like desert,” I told John during the drive.

He said the trees would return but as you know, they did not.

With teaching jobs at a premium, John accepted a job at Clara Brownell Middle School in Umatilla. We planned on staying two years. Nearly 31 years later, we are starting a new chapter in our lives. Well, at least John is as he recently retired.

When he went to the interview I wanted the answers to a couple of questions, including what the weather was like. He was told Umatilla was in a “banana belt.” Whatever, I’ve never seen a banana tree here. And, that first winter it snowed before Thanksgiving, staying on the ground until after the new year because it was so cold.

I continued to work in Portland for a few weeks after we first moved. I rode a bus through the Columbia River Gorge, ending up at home in Umatilla in mid-September.

Eager to explore the area, I suggested we go to Pendleton. Little did we know it was right smack dab in the middle of the 75th annual Pendleton Round-Up.

We soon found out we were Levi’s people living in a Wrangler world. Our friends from the city were amused — especially when we sent them flocked tumbleweeds for Christmas.

Over the years, the slower pace of life in Eastern Oregon grew on us. And, we’ve even owned a few pairs of Wranglers.

We don’t really miss the city life, especially the traffic. But we miss the green trees.

I told friends when Hermiston’s brand was “You Can Grow Here,” it didn’t mean we were going to grow old here.

While we’ve enjoyed the past three decades in Eastern Oregon, we’re hoping to move on to greener pastures. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll call Hermiston home, but one of these days we’re hoping to set out on a new adventure in the Silver Valley of northern Idaho.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539

Wild ride includes broken bones, bruises and scars

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on June 8, 2016 7:19AM

I didn’t set out in life to represent a quote attributed to gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

I dispute people’s suggestions that I’m accident-prone. However, it seems I’ve had my share of weird medical mishaps.

My husband, John, is amused with how I cracked a bone in my wrist. After showering, I hadn’t put in my contacts yet. Freaking out thinking a spider was crawling up my arm, I swung around and hit my wrist on the door jam. The suspect spider was actually loose strings from my towel.

The second time I broke my nose — the first time I took a line drive in the face while playing softball — was just a freak accident.

During a trip with friends, we stopped at a Goodwill in Portland. While trying to remove something from an upper shelf, a large wooden item came crashing down, striking the bridge of my nose.

My friends were elsewhere in the store when they heard someone asking for help for a woman that was bleeding. Curious about the commotion, they showed up to find me looking bewildered.

After getting home, John took me to the emergency room. I ended up getting stitches. However, that wasn’t the end of the saga. It got infected, requiring two courses of antibiotics, an antibiotic ointment and a steroid cream.

Speaking of infection, one time my thumb swelled up so big I thought it was going to pop. Flying home from Florida, it was red, throbbing and inflamed.

Literally sticking out like a sore thumb, I went to the doctor. The diagnosis: cellulitis. Evidently bacteria entered through my cracked cuticles.

Swollen all the way to my wrist joint, I went back to the doctor. I could hear the nurse talking to him through door. When he said the antibiotics needed time to take effect, the nurse replied, “No, you have to see this, it’s A LOT bigger.” Luckily it responded to additional antibiotics and I didn’t have to get IV medications.

When I broke my femur sliding into home playing softball, I had no idea the severity of the injury. While getting x-rays, I asked the technician if I would be staying overnight. He responded, “Honey, you’re going to be here awhile.”

Then there was the time I broke my humerus — only I wasn’t laughing.

Friends have suggested I need my own personal bubble. Or at the very least, I should have a warning label.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

New phone and narcotics don’t mix

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on May 24, 2016 1:00PM

Here’s a tip for you: Don’t make phone calls, send texts or make social media posts while under the influence — of ANYTHING!

A few days after I had my hand and knee surgery last month, I received a message from Renee Struthers, my co-worker who takes care of community stuff when I’m out.

“Are you on some strong painkillers,” she said through Facebook Messenger. “You left a … sort of rambling message earlier.”

I sat there looking at my shiny new Droid Turbo 2 and thought, “I haven’t made any phone calls.”

However, when I looked in the call log there was irrefutable evidence that suggested otherwise.

I later figured out what happened. I was attempting to respond to Renee in either Messenger or by text through voice-to-post (it was much easier to talk into the phone rather than typing with one hand).

Between being confused with my new phone and being under the influence of narcotics, I evidently called her desk line. While attempting to voice-to-post, I was talking into my phone but the words weren’t coming up on the screen. So, I would pause and repeat what I was trying to convey in the message — thus the “rambling.” In addition, there was likely some extra commentary such as, “Why the #$%@ isn’t it working? Stupid &^%$@ phone.”

Honestly, I don’t even know why they call them smartphones. Mine is dumb.

I’m sure others have had similar situations. We all know there’s a learning curve whenever getting a new smartphone.

I remember when new cell phones came with a small book that provided the ins and outs of the new device. Those days are gone. It seems a bit odd that the more complicated devices have become, the less information they provide with it.

I guess you’re supposed to conduct a Google search to figure things out — that is, if you can get on the Internet. That was the initial issue with my husband’s new phone.

The tech support person I talked to said John needed a Gmail account. I suggested he could just use mine. Without providing an explanation, the tech dude said that wasn’t recommended.

Whatever!

Well, turns out he was right — it wasn’t a good idea. When my hundreds of work-related contacts showed up on John’s phone, he was none too pleased.

And, don’t even get me started about auto-correct. Most of the time, it ends up being auto-wrong.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Two-for-one specials not always the best deal

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on May 10, 2016 11:11AM

I’m a bargain shopper. I mean, who doesn’t like two-for-one specials?

In spite of how practical it may sound to have two surgical procedures done at the same time — think twice before doing it.

I figured since I was being knocked out last month, I might as well get my hand and knee fixed at the same time. When I told my friends about my upcoming surgery, they responded with dismay.

“I figured why not take care of both at the same time,” I told them. “Heck, if I could get another surgeon in there I’d have a colonoscopy, too.”

As patient number eight at Dr. Richard Carpenter’s office, I’ve had my share of orthopedic procedures over the years — including a right hand carpal tunnel and several knee procedures.

What I forgot to factor into the equation was that I’m a few years older, which results in a longer healing process. Also, without the use of one hand, it makes it rather difficult to use crutches.

However, before I even attempted to become ambulatory, I came to the realization that having both procedures done at the same time wasn’t my best decision in recent years.

All bandaged up, my left hand was rendered useless. And, I couldn’t bend my right arm because of the placement of the IV.

My generally jovial post-op personality was nowhere to be found. There was no singing of songs or laughter — I was miserable.

As I came to in the recovery area, my nose itched, my hat wasn’t quite right on my head, I was hungry and I was thirsty. And I was a pain in the ….

The nurses in the Good Shepherd Medical Center day surgery area were great. Despite my less-than-pleasant demeanor, they maintained their professionalism. For that, I’m very grateful.

With my healing process in full swing, I can now tip my hat to them and say thanks. And, in recognition of National Nurses Week (May 6-12), I encourage you to thank a nurse for all they do.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.