Teasing siblings has been a family ritual since the beginning of time. Slim Jolly continued the practice and then feels the switch. Read on.

The Grant County Historical Society has compiled several volumes of Grant County history. The books are available for purchase at the Historical Society Museum gift shop in Ephrata.

I bought the series in 2009 and secured permission to relay some of the history through this column.

Memories of Grant County, compiled from taped interviews by the Grant County Historical Society.

Today we backtrack a bit and then continue the story of Coulee City, by C.K. "Slim" Jolly, recorded July 13, 1976:

I am wondering just what it would be like to all of a sudden from our present style of life to just go back 80 years, all at once, or to come from 80 years ago to our present life style.

I think that would be worse, to come from 80 years ago to what our lifestyle is now, because I think it would just about scare a person to where he would find a hole and climb in it. Don't you think?

Just think of all that hay that was put up at that time. They used to use a pitchfork and wagon and now the hay goes into a stack without touching it by hand. Even pick it out of the field and stack it and 'touch it by hand. I wouldn't want to go back to that era. I kinda like our lifestyle. Some people talk of the good old days, but in the time I can remember, back when I was 12 to 14 years old, I kinda like our style of living. I really do!

There is one thing I didn't mention. Right at our home, on the four corners north of Leahy, the Indians used to come and get water, and camp. I can remember that my brother and sisters and I would sneak around keeping out of sight of the Indians, because we didn't know for sure just what they'd do. And you know, their youngsters were doing the same things to us. I thought that was kinda interesting at an Indian encampment.

My brother and I were coming home from school one day and there was a rock no higher than that table there, kinda sloped down, but anyhow my brother and I climbed up on this rock. I got down and I told him to get down, and he said no that it was too high.

"I'll get hurt, and I want you to help me," he said. I wouldn't help him because I knew it wouldn't hurt him and so, being kinda independent, I went home.

My mother said, "Where's Dan," I said, "Oh, he's up there," "Up where?" "Up there on that rock." "What's he doing there?" "Well, he got up there and wouldn't come down. It wouldn't hurt him if he fell, but he couldn't fall." Mother went down and he was laying on the rock asleep. She went home, got a switch, but I was the one who got the switching.

I suppose all of you know where Pilot Rock is, up on the west side of Grand Coulee, the highest point until you get clear over to Waterville. You can see it from Davenport and Mansfield and many areas so they named it Pilot Rock.

The early settlers tell me they used it as a landmark for traveling from one area to another. Carl Lewis might be interested in photographing that from the air. It is right in the corner of my field, just outside of my field and what was Vern Adams' ranch.

The Rev. David H. Crawford compiled and published a history of families in and surrounding Wilson Creek titled, "Family Memories of Wilson Creek Area." The book was printed in 1978, which was the 75th anniversary of the town. David's son, John Crawford, has given permission for those memories to be a part of this column.

Today we begin the story of Dana R. Kelby:

I was born in Wilson Creek and moved to Seattle when I was four years old. We had a store for about a year and then moved to Kirkland and then to Northrup. In 1946, we moved back to Wilson Creek and lived in a tent for a year while dad built our house.

In 1951, I joined the United States Navy after graduating from high school. I went through boot camp in San Diego, then traveled to Hawaii where I was stationed at Perl Harbor. I met and married my wife, Ann, and we had one child, Karen, born in Hawaii. Our son Raymond was born in Bethesda, Maryland. We moved to Washington D.C. in 1955 and I worked in the Pentagon.

We were transferred to San Diego and my mother and father spent two weeks with us which was really a surprise, and a memorable visit. I served aboard the flagship of a destroyer squadron. A squadron consists of eight ships divided into two divisions, four ships being attached to the flagship staff.

We spent time on each of the eight ships. One particular incident occurred while we were highlining across to the USS Ranger, an aircraft carrier. Highlining is to sit in Boson's chair attached to highline from the highest spot on a ship due to the roll, so a person won't be drenched.

At any rate just after I was safely across and breathing again, I looked back in time to watch the next man go for a swim as the highline broke. Quite a furor as both ships conducted their man-overboard drill. He was hauled aboard safely. The Commodore decided not to go back the same way, which made the rest of us breathe a sigh of relief. We didn't go back to our ship until we pulled into port and could walk to it.

The next incident involved refueling at Sea from a tanker. The hose connection attached to our ship on the fantail came loose, and thousands of gallons of fuel oil poured over our ship. Naturally the hatches on deck were open and most of the crew quarters were drenched in oil.

The next incident involved mail call at sea. We were receiving mail from the Carriers in our task force by helicopter. One day the copter was hovering over our fantail preparing to lower a Chaplain and our mail. All of a sudden the copter dropped on our deck and before it bounced twice, the pilot later explained, a copter will usually explode when it hits down that hard. There was no damage done to the copter as it somehow landed in between all protecting items on our deck.