Let me tell you a little about my Grandpa. He was a Logger. He was my hero. He was born in Bonita, Louisiana on August 8, 1908. His Grandpa came from Ireland in the 1860s. His first loggin' job was carrying water for the grade in 1922. He was 13 Years old. They use to put water on the roads that were made of wooded planks to keep them slippery.

In the mid 1930's he took his family to County Fair. They had a little bear-wrestling contest. If you could stay in the ring with a bear for 3 minuets you could win a 10-dollar bill. That was a lot of money. My Papa (That's what we called him) took his turn. Like he told me, he needed the money. Like I said my Papa was a Logger; he went right through the bear's legs and got behind him. Grabbed him by the collar and the seat of his britches and tossed the bear out of the ring. That is how strong he was. I told you he was my hero.

He left Louisiana with 25 cents in his pocket. He left his family, my Grandma Pearl and 5 Kids. It was hard money. He told me he didn't like the way he was being treated, and there was no work. He hopped a freight train heading for Oregon. He knew how to build; farm, railroad and he knew how to log. He had heard there was work in a place known as ‘God's Country'.

He went to work for Weyerhaeuser over in Eastern Oregon. Working at a loggin' camp they called simply; ‘Camp 6'. We have a picture of him shoveling out snow that was way over his head. In the mid 1940's he moved to Oakridge, Oregon, where he worked his way up to woods boss for Pope And Talbot. He retired there after 30 years.

He was quite an athlete. He was a catcher for Chatham Louisiana's town team. He once caught a no-hitter tossed by Ed Head who played in the Big Leagues with the Brooklyn Dodgers.

I never logged for my Grandpa. I was blessed to go out splitting Cedar post, and Buddy he just flat split Cedar. My Uncle Gene told me that when Grandpa was loggin', "He was always on the run". I've talked with a few fellas that worked for my Grandpa and they had nothing but respect for Walt Henderson. The Crew's safety was my Grandpa's biggest concern. But you best be on the run when he was around.

No words or songs that I write can relate how much I loved my Grandpa. People think I'm tough. I couldn't hold a candle to my Grandpa, My Dad or any of my Uncles. They are all Loggers.

When I was a sophomore at Churchill High in Eugene, there was a group of known as ‘The Hard Guys'; they smoked and hung out together wearing their leather jackets. I was talking to one of those dudes. He was thought to be one of the toughest guys in the school. He was telling me how loggers were dumb. I told him my Dad is a Logger and my Grandpa, he's a logger, and they are not dumb. My Grandpa is one of the smartest guys on Earth. He can do anything. He looked at me with a real hateful look and said; "If your Grandpa is a Logger, he is a dumb son of a bitch".

I pretended to walk away. I must of weighed 130 pounds. I figured I was going to get beat up. But I couldn't let anybody talk that way about my Papa. I pulled an old Indian trick on him. He must have been about 6" 3'. I reached down and pulled one of his legs out from under him. Now I didn't know a lot about fightin', but I knew a lot about playing soccer. I pretended his head was the soccer ball. I must have kicked him 10 times. He was balling. My friends had to drag me away from him as I was caught up in anger.

I had to go see a Counselor. He said; "This isn't like you Bobby". I told him what happened. He said he was going to have to call my parents. I told him how us Henderson's don't go for being called ‘Son of a bitches', and if he calls my Dad down here and tell him some tough guy called my Grandpa and him a ‘Dumb Son of a bitch'. Well them is fightin' words, and my Dad is a Logger and has twice the Irish blood that I have.

I didn't get suspended or nothing. He never called anybody. That tough guy spread a rumor that he and his friends were going to beat the tar out of me. I hung out with athletes. 2 of my friends told them that anything happened to ‘Herbie' (that's what they called me), They would all get their butts kicked the Lancerway. I never heard any more about it, and there wasn't anybody talking shit about Loggers.