Whenever I need to recharge my deep discharge batteries, I pack up and load out for my secret retreat near stands of towering California heritage oaks and the fast flowing American River which based o observations yesterday, appears to be laden with shoals of rainbow trout just minutes before he season opener. My retreat is located in the tiny village of Rescue, California, Not located near anyplace, Rescue has everything I need to get perspective on my life. Rescue lacks a gas station, a supermarket, convenience stores. It’s a place where you plan and shop for your meals before you make the three-mile trek up from US 50. I’m chirped awake in Rescue by choruses of nesting birds and the raucous screams of mocking birds trying to imitate the mating calls of chainsaws. Yeah Boy! Rescue makes me smile. Rescue is a red dirt kind of town. It’s 1300 inhabitants are a mix of retired state, aerospace and electronis workers who fled cities for the rural California dream. Even television reception is a problematic thing here in Rescue. The local branch of the El Dorado County Library is very busy and the delivery person for the Sacra mento Bee fulfills a lot of subscriptions, rain, shine or infrequent snow. When I come up here, I stay with my best friend and his family, which includes my Godson, AJ.--- aka “Der Bub.” Rescue has become an important part of my life. It’s where I go when I need to recharge or expand my horizons. It’s a pace where I laugh, read, and can stretch out my writing style. I come here every time when I really need to see life afresh. After I was legal to drive again after my stroke, the first place I wanted to go was Rescue. And the first thing I did when I got here was fire up “Sparky the Flame Throwing Tractor” and mow four acres of green weeds. Rescue unleashes my Inner Huck. When I’m up here I’m in full blown Huck “Put Your Back Into It, Jim” Mode. It doesn’t matter if its cutting weeds, tinkering in the barn, or researching a story I want to write about deja vue all over again California gold prospectors. But the persistent theme of my time up here recently has been to hang out with Der Bub. Laugh amd help him fledge into manhood. AJ starts high school this year, and lately I’ve come to really emjoy my role as a Godfather. Lunch with AJ at a wing gril in Folsom is very enjoyable. Table top conversations about whether the M14 or the M16 was a better Infantry Rifle are pretty routine, taking Der Bub to a sporting goods store to buy his first athletic supporter following the conversation was something I’ll always remember and smile about. I have three big chores today; mow my friend’s upper field with Sparky, reduce a five foot tall burn pile to ashes and pump wine into French oak barrels for aging. Let’s see, show my Godson how to safely burn pruned wood-- that’s easy. Mow two acres without causing an conflagration, even easier. Maybe catch a couple of fat trout down at the confluence of Weber Creek and the South Fork of the American? Be still my damaged heart. I kind of go off my diet when I’m here. But that’s allowed, Rescue is about enjoyment, and relaxation. And while it doesn’t have a gas station or a convenience store, there a Bell Market six miles away and Huck wants to show his skinny Godson how to make sausage gravy for biscuits and gravy. --Jim Forbes on 4/22/2011.