Kneebockers is a book about life. It is a name, and yet it is also a spirit within my being. The name was given to me at ten years old by another boy, probably based on what I was wearing at the time. I was a lad from the east, dressed in short pants, suspenders, shirt, sweater, and leather Buster Brown shoes, standing in the front of a two-room schoolhouse in the Wild West of 1946, where blue jeans were the norm. The incident, at the time, seemed to be just a short, quick response made by a group of school kids toward a boy who looked and seemed different. However, the name of Kneebockers stayed with me for a lifetime. I would not realize until years later, as I grew and matured, that the impact of the name on me would become bigger by the day. No one else, other than my father and those few kids, knew that I was Kneebockers. Kneebockers was within mea spirit, a drive, an identity. A human being who was somewhat different. My father was a major influence on forming a path for Kneebockers. He provided a solid foundation for a young kid of ten and allowed me to mature through my teen years and into adulthood while safely bound to that basic structure. The tales in this book tell a story of the bonds and love between my father, a tough, hardworking ironworker and welder, and me, his easygoing, innocent son. Together we headed west from New York State to Reno, Nevada, in 1946. Wes Blackburn, my father, was my mentor, my rock, and my inspiration in a lifetime of experiencing how to really live and appreciate each and every day. My lessons began when living in and appreciating the vastness of the Nevada desert and the mountains in the West. Two people together who many times never saw another human being for days on end. The deer, coyotes, rabbits, eagles, hawks, and buzzards became our company. It was there that I began to discover who I could be on this earth and what I could learn about the earth. My classroom was nature, and the first topic was history. Prospecting was a vehicle for turning back the clock to the 1800s. Standing in an old mine with all of its strange tools still sitting intact against the tunnel wall due to the preservation of the dry desert air was more than just a reminder of days long ago. These desert experiences formed a foundation for other exciting adventures that are a part of Kneebockerss life. This single book could be many books: Kneebockers, River Guide; Kneebockers, the Golfer; Kneebockers, the Teacher and Coach; Kneebockers, the Voice of the Warriors, or Kneebockers in the Political Arena. Although this book covers only some of these episodes, it holds open the opportunity to find out what Kneebockers is up to in his later years. In this book, I have looked inside myself to share the overwhelming emotions that occur when drift fishing on the Smith or Klamath River for salmon and steelhead, hopefully, allowing the reader to experience pulling hard on eight-foot oars in heavy current while maneuvering through riffles, whirlpools, backwashes, and large rocks to put the boat in proper position to catch that spectacular fish. I strive to share the butterflies entering the stomach as a golfer gets up to execute a one-hundred-fifty-yard golf shot, flying over a lake and bunkers, to hit a green and sink a putt to win a golf championship. It is the spirit of Kneebockers that provides the drive, the incentive, the eagerness to tackle such challenges in life. I love the Kneebockers in methe energy, the drive to do my best. A saying comes to mind that pretty well sums up the Kneebockers in me: Lets be winners even if it must occasionally be in defeat. I used that mantra as a guideline for my coaching of players in both basketball and golf. I have used it as a guideline for my life in general. I hope that these tales will provide a lightness to life in this stressful world. I hope that some individuals can benefit from the lessons of a solid relationship