"There I was on Rabbit Island, raisin' rabbits..."

I figure that I better give an explanation as to why I think it's fittin' 'n proper( I don't) to start another damn blog when I already have as many as I do children( 2, if you are wondering.), and here it is: My Grandpa J.E. Jones( mom says there wasn't a name for the J, or the E, but grandma used to holler at him 'Jesse!', 'Jay!' 'Jesse Earl Jones!'...). Well, he's not the main reason for the blog, maybe just the muse. He was my mom's dad, a WWII vet, reformed alcoholic, singer songwriter, teller of tales, hunter and fisher, and just pretty much an over the top wildman. Mom didn't necessarily love the idea of us boys( I have 3 brothers, 1 sister) idolizing our Grandpa Jones, as he certainly had his demons, but to a little boy coming up in the world of 80's cartoons( The Smurfs, G.I. Joe) and rainy Oregon days, Grandpa Jones was money. I clearly remember rummaging through his garage, finding hunting knives, WWII relics, wool blankets, tackle boxes and tools. Now that I am grown and searching for 'mantiques', I recognize the old thrill of going through Grandpa's junk. Even the smell of the old things found remind me of Grandpa's nicotine stained fingers. (Grandpa tried to teach me to roll a cigarette once while he was driving, all the while warning me: "Now, dont you start smoking. I started when I was 12, so its a bad habit- but I dont want you to do like I did...")

This year seems to mark a change in my life, almost going back full circle. I recently moved back to the remoter of Washington's big cities, and began wearing flannels and logging boots, buying army surplus packs, and collecting old WWII knives. I have labeled my return to outdoors style 'Robert Service Chic', 'Forest Service guy in the 50's', '60's Outdoorsman', but in all reality, I could just call it 'The J.E. Jones'. The picture above perfectly represents Grandpa's 'uniform', as it were: green work pants, netback hat, button up western shirt, white t shirt, and work boots( hes wearing old rubber boots in this one, I think). This picture is how I best remember him when I was a kid. There are other pictures of him as a young man, looking perfectly bitchin', which I will try to post as well. When I recently got a new pair of Red Wing boots in the mail, wrapped in brown paper, and smelling of leather, I thought of J.E., and his old boots, in a white t shirt, standing on the porch in Portland, Oregon, smoking a camel cigarette.

So this inaugural Gazette post is to my Grandpa JE Jones, and his uniform, and his memory. I would also like to dedicate this to my brothers, Nate and Jake('Kid'), who have recently undergone this whole sustainable life change with me, and have inspired me to new JE Jones fashion heights. Nate, for the whole Red Wings craze (gawd they're beautiful...), and for getting tired of a throw away society, Kid ('Jake') for all the fashion tips, and for being one of the first proprietors of JE Jones fashion as a young man in wool pants and leather dress shoes. Also, to my brother in law Andrew, who is just a man's man, a carpenter, a Lionel train lover, and showed me how to tie my scarf and buy logger boots. And to Kevin, living in Albuquerque, NM, in a stucco house, and buying dapper fedoras.


And so, for the kick off of the Gazette, I will leave you with one of my Grandpa Jones' favorite sayings that none of us ever understood:
"And there I was on Rabbit Island, raisin' rabbits...."(Smoky laugh)