This Isn't Happening

Trapped

2011-12-28T02:33:00.001-05:00

   Today Lois ~~and I~~ did some work in the basement. When ~~we were done~~ she was done we drove out to the land fill and disposed of some much unwanted stuff.
   As we left we decided to drive up the street to see if there were any blue herons nesting in the tower we discovered last year at one of the nature reserves. I got a new camera for Christmas and we wanted to try it out. We have been here a number of times. They have a couple roads with signs that say, "Open from 8:00 to 5:00" and the gates are always closed. This time they were open and we decided to go in and drive the designated roads. We saw many blue heron and swans and other wild fowl. We had just made the loop and drove back to the access road we came in on and noticed the gates were locked. It didn't take us long to realize we were locked inside a state-operated facility and that it was 4:00 in the afternoon and if we were going to get out we had to work fast.
   I called a friend of mine who was familiar with the area but he couldn't find a phone number for the Department of Wildlife Resources. I also wanted to connect with someone who knew where we were and could help if things got bad. We then had Aly get online and google the phone numbers of the bird reserve where we were trapped, the landfill directly across the street and the Division of Wildlife Resources. I called the Wildlife Resource number first and got a voice-automated menu with a number of listings that I couldn't hear because Lois was in a full panic. I was laughing at how funny it was while she was yelling, "This is not funny!" Turns out she needed a restroom.
   "Oh come on," I said, "You've got to admit this is pretty funny."
   "No," she said, "This is not funny at all."
   I finally handed her the phone because I couldn't hear anything the operator was saying. Eventually she reached someone and we waited for what seemed like an hour while he tried to get us some help. At 4:30 he got back on the line and told me a game warden was coming and it would take about a half hour. He wasn't lying either; about 4:55 a guy showed up and pulled out his ring of keys and fumbled around. Lois got out of the Forerunner and said she was going to go talk to the guy. I said, "He's probably going to give you some grief."
   "Oh no, he's not." she said. And sure enough he did. He wanted to know what we were doing behind the locked gate and how we got in there. "Well, I just picked up the truck and lifted it over the fence," she said in her head. Out loud, she said, "The gate was opened -- and said it would stay that way until 5 p.m."
   Mr. Game Warden was less than pleased and told her, "This gate is suppose to be locked at all times and I need to be somewhere at a quarter 'til 5."
   "Then you're already late and you might want to get someone to change your signs," Lois told him. "But you're not going to leave us in here." I'm not sure if he noticed she was casually stroking the place on her jacket embroidered with the name of her newspaper employer.
   Mr. Game Warden fumbled around in his truck, after taking a minute to read the sign -- which said, basically, we're open 'til 5, so come on in. Seeing nothing that would let him challenge her further, he pulled out a bolt cutter and clipped the locks.
   Ah, sweet freedom. Did I mention that the landfill across the street smelled like a -- well, like a landfill.

Cassie 2000/2001 to 2011

2011-12-07T01:19:00.000-05:00

   We had to put Cassie to sleep today. It was very hard for all of us. The vet called me a couple of hours after we dropped her off this morning and explained that the tumor had already done extensive damage across her palate. Cassie started bleeding shortly after the tumor was opened and wouldn't stop. The vet said that with or without the biopsy, Cassie wouldn't be able to lead any quality of life under the circumstances. He recommended that we euthanize her and suggested we wait no longer than a week. Because the tumor was so rapid, the damage would only worsen and she would be in pain.
   Lois and I talked about it and decided we should put Cassie to sleep. There was a good chance that the wound in her mouth wouldn't even heal within the week and it would only prolong her misery.
   The last week has been very strange. Lois received a letter a week or so ago saying Cassie was supposed to get her rabies shot and at the same time I saw her jowl was a bit extended on one side. I brought it to Lois' attention and she was going to have the vet look at it. When Lois and Aly took Cassie to the vet, they discovered Cassie didn't need her rabies shot until 2013. Odd? The visit was not unwarranted, Lois had the vet look at Cassie's mouth and he discovered the tumor. When we tried to look at it beforehand, Cassie would whine and move away. We figured it would be best for the vet to look at it.
   All day long Lois and I both felt like maybe we could have done something different. That we should have noticed her mouth sooner. We wondered if we as pet parents were doing our jobs. Even the veterinarian's wife made a remark that, "I can't believe you didn't notice it." As if we didn't feel bad enough already. But they said it was fast-growing and just wasn't noticeable until about a week ago. We all agree that none of us noticed her mouth until we received the rabies shot notice in the mail. It almost seems like it was a forewarning. Like we had been led to vet.
   We will miss you Cassie.

Cassie

2011-12-06T01:19:00.000-05:00

Cassie

On Saturday, Lois had to take our pound puppy Cassie to the vet for a shot. It turned out that she didn't need the shot after all. She did however have a sore puffy lip and we wanted to get it checked out. I thought that maybe she had a splinter or a bone fragment in her cheek. Maybe it was an abscessed tooth. Aly called me at work when they were done and I could tell by the crack in her voice that something was wrong. The vet had just informed them that Cassie had cancer.

Lucy

Cass

   We have had Cassie for 8 years now. We brought her home shortly after we got our black lab Lucy. The two of them have been loving members of our family and are about 10 years old. Lucy grunts and groans and age has clearly left its mark of gray on her fur. Cassie on the other hand has always been agile and her white and brown fur makes it hard to distinguish the color of gray. Lois and I have talked frequently about Lucy growing old, but I don't think either of us ever gave much thought to Cassie's age because she behaves so much like a pup. She still digs in the trash and steals food off the counter. When I heard that Cassie might have to be put to sleep, my heart sank. We have all been having trouble dealing with this news. Tomorrow morning we are taking her to the vet for a biopsy and then we'll have to make some choices depending on whether or not it is malignant. If it is benign, she could still lose some teeth. If the tumor is malignant, we will have to figure out how to handle it rather quickly. The vet says that it is fast acting and can be very painful.
   The girls weep and I have not had such a heavy heart in a very long time.

2011-10-18T12:56:00.004-04:00

The Mile

This is a re-post from two years ago. I wanted to write another Halloween story, but I just didn't have it in me. If you are a new follower, I hope you enjoy it.

Billy Larue rushed up to his bedroom window. Grabbing the cuff of his shirt sleeve, he rubbed away the condensation and peered outside. He could just now begin to see the full moon rising, silhouetted by the maple trees as the last of the autumn leaves lightly fell. They slowly floated to the ground before they came to rest on the dew-covered lawn. Dying they were, he thought. He desperately wanted to go outside and play in them one last time, before winter claimed them. But he knew it was already too late. They had already begun to wither once they had touched the ground -- death decaying.

Remembering then why he had come upstairs, he half jumped and half climbed up onto his bed. And sitting there, he waited. Soon the sound of wood hitting wood made soft thumping noises out in the hallway. The woman made a low gutteral noise as she entered the room. Almost, he thought, like an animal. Setting her cane aside, she smiled at him and held out her long flailing arm.

"Here, Grandma," he half whispered.

"I'm too old for those stairs," she laughed.

"Never," he said, "Just take two at a time and be done with them."

"Oh world," she said, "Two stairs! I'd certainly be done with them then."

"Here," Billy said, holding out his hands, "Right here I am."

"I see you," she chuckled. "Now give me those bandages. We'll have to hurry; it's almost dark."

"How do you know when it's dark, Gram? You're blind."

"Oh, well ... that's my secret now, isn't it?" she said.

"Well I suppose..."

"Give me your hand -- the one you'll use."

"This one I'll use." Billy said, giving her his left.

"Let's begin then." she said.

Twenty minutes later Billy was standing in front of his mirror admiring himself. "The best ever!" he said.

"Let me see," his grandma said. Reaching out, she found his wrist and slowly started patting down the young boy's torso. Yards of bandages covered Billy's upper body. "The best ever!" he said again.

"How are your legs?" she asked.

"Perfect," Billy replied. "But how?"

"Pins and needles," she said, "That's why you'll walk like this."

She stumbled forward with her arms held out, imitating a mummy. They both laughed.

"You didn't," he said, "Nary a one. I was watching you."

"Another secret." she said, "Just a grandma's touch."

"Will you go with me this year?" the boy pleaded.

"You don't need an Old Witch walking you around." She started, "This cane of mine has seen too many miles already. Besides, you and Bessie will be alone this year. It's time. Somebody's got to light The Mile."

Billy walked over to his window. From the second floor of the house he could see the faint outline of the old rickety fence that skirted the property. Letting his eyes follow the driveway to the very end, he could barely see the gate. It was as tall as the cornstalks that lined the road. And, it was exactly one mile from the house to the gate. Along the driveway, Billy could see the jack-o-lanterns that they had placed there three days ago. There were over a hundred of them.

"We've got to hurry!" he said, turning to his grandma, "It's almost time."

"Go get your sister, then." she said, "But don't forget these."

The room had darkened considerably, and only the wick of one flickering candle danced in the twilight. The old woman's hands seemed to disappear into the folds of her dress and then they reappeared with a box. Just like magic, he thought.

She handed him the box and then smiled. "Go now then," she whispered.

Billy seemed to vanish from the place he once stood. Candlelight bounced off the walls and he was gone. His footsteps could be heard as he took to the stairs. Yelling over his shoulder he said, "Thank you, Grandma."

Outside in the courtyard, Bessie danced with excitement. The night was warm but the wind had picked up since the afternoon. There was a storm coming. "Hurry Billy!" she cried out anxiously.

"I am," he said. Carefully holding the box that Grandma Mabel had given him. Every motion was almost reverent.

The moonlight shined down on the silver clasp of the box as he unsnapped it. Inside were two candles and a single wooden matchstick. One match, he thought to himself. What if it takes two? He gave the box to Bessie and he let his mind wander as he summoned up his nerve to strike the single stick. Bessie looked at him with wild anticipation. She held out one of the candles and waited.

An eerie howl swept across the cornfields and they both turned to look at the horizon. Lightening flashed in the far distance. The storm was moving away from them toward Barrow County.

"Now," he whispered. Bessie leaned in close with one hand cupped around one of the candles as Billy struck the matchhead against a stone that lay on the ground. Fire lit up and briefly danced and then the flame disappeared.

"No!" they both screamed. And as they stopped to look at each other, the matchhead jumped again and a tiny spark lit the other side of the matchstick. The two held their breath as they leaned in close to light the candle Bessie held in her hands.

"Now the other," Billy said. Bessie's hand disappeared into the long black cape that she wore and then reappeared holding the other candle. Just like Grandma, he thought.

Lighting the other candle, the two flames jumped in the night as they quickly moved from jack-o-lantern to jack-o-lantern, bringing life to the haunted house behind them. They turned to see Grandma Mabel standing in the doorway, waiting for them to finish.

One by one the jack-o-lanterns came to life. Ghouls and goblins shined through the hollowed out pumpkins. Images of Dracula and Frankenstein danced in the night among witches and warlocks. When they had finished, they stood at the gate. The first Treaters had arrived. Billy unlocked the wrought iron gate and he and Bessie slowly pushed them open.

"Trick or Treat," the first guest said. And they all ran down The Mile toward the old haunted house, back from where Billy and Bessie had just come.

Open note to Lois (or how I got my crush)

2011-08-28T20:48:00.000-04:00

It was the first weekend in July. We were a day late. We'd missed the wedding. There was a cacophony of laughter coming from inside the house and soon the voices made their way outside on to the lawn to greet us.
"Where were you?" and "What happened?" echoed among all of us. After explanations there was a brief round of introductions. I had met your family before. Another time. Another place. Another occasion. One less friendly. Not hostile, just mournful.
You said, "Hello" and it resonated with laughter. Your smile made me smile. I remember it well because it gave me goosebumps. Then there was that pitter-patter your heart does when it has a crush. That weekend we became inseparable. We laughed and smiled and shared things people just don't generally speak about.
Later there was the brushing of skin when our hands found each other. And towards the end of that weekend we managed a hug under the pretence that we were saying goodbye to each other.
Days went by. My heart ached like no other. You were in my head all day. You were in my sleep. And then one day there was a call. Later I was at the airport. When I saw you we smiled and there was that "Hello."
I will never let that go.

Riddle

2011-08-08T00:19:00.000-04:00

Aly gave me this riddle.

Question:

How do you get out of a room if there is only a mirror and a table?

Answer:
˙ǝןoɥ ǝɥʇ ʇno ןʍɐɹɔ noʎ ˙ǝןoɥʍ ɐ ןɐnbǝ sǝʌןɐɥ oʍʇ ˙ɟןɐɥ uı ǝןqɐʇ ǝɥʇ ʇnɔ puɐ ʍɐs ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʇ noʎ ˙ʍɐs noʎ ʇɐɥʍ ǝǝs noʎ ˙ɹoɹɹıɯ ǝɥʇ uı ʞooן noʎ

Giants

2011-07-01T23:47:00.000-04:00

   We went to the Redwoods last week for our vacation. I have never been there before, but I was amazed by the size of these trees. The funny thing is, back in the day I used to cut trees down for a living. The girls enjoyed the Redwoods too, but Jenifer seemed to feel that once you've seen a couple thousand, then you have seen them all. I think they enjoyed the ocean more. Aly spent as much time in the water as she could. I'm not sure how she survived the frigid temperatures.
   We left Salt Lake and drove to Sacramento on Saturday morning. The following day we headed off to Santa Cruz and got a motel a few blocks away from the beach boardwalk. Aly and Jeni started out by swimming, and then Aly and I went on some rides while Lois and Jeni hit the stores and walked the boardwalk. When we met up later, the girls were ready to go swimming again.
   The following day we drove up the beach toward Leggett, California, and only made it 55 miles. How we did that I'm not sure, but we vowed to make up for it the following day. We did that by driving 110 miles on Tuesday. Eventually we made it into the Redwoods and we did a lot of stopping. We drove through a couple trees and visited some gift shops. When we left there we drove all day long through Oregon from Grants Pass to Ontario and then to Nampa, Idaho, where we spent a couple of day with friends of mine that I have known for 30 years. It was fun to catch up and be among friends I haven't seen for years.
   On Saturday we went to Boise and visited another friend of mine who has always been like a father figure to me. He is very ill and it was part of the reason that we decided to travel back to Salt Lake through Idaho. It was nice to visit him.
   It felt great to take some time off. I have been wanting to go on vacation for a long time. I was so happy when the girls got out of school for the summer. I am posting some pictures of the redwoods and I will post other picture on my Reflections blog later.

Early Morning

The Cathedral

Giants

The Dyerville Giant

Looking Back

2011-05-22T14:38:00.001-04:00

What if everything you were told was a lie?

All of my life I have been held hostage to the notion that I was all alone. My parents signed emancipation papers for me when I was 16 years old. Even my blood sister I grew up with seemed like a stranger to me and remains so to this day.

What if everything you believed was a lie? My parents never liked to talk about my adoption. When my blood sister and I found out that we were adopted, naturally we had our own questions.

"Who am I? Who are our parents?"

These were some of those first questions that came up. They were ones my sister asked. She is 21 months older than me and at the time those questions were not anything I ever thought about. When she asked them my parents froze and they immediately set up a wall. From that time forward any questions that were asked were like much guarded secrets. The subject was taboo.

At the time I was too busy growing up and being a kid. I was in the back yard climbing a ladder so that I could jump off the roof into the deep end of the swimming pool. I was busy climbing our 40 foot flag pole to see if I could touch the top. And all I got from that was a blistered butt when my dad got home. He took punishment pretty seriously.

My sisters questions drove her crazy. So crazy that she ran away from home when she 12 and ended up in a group home. We would drive over and see her on the weekends and she would always refer to our parents by their last name. It was all kind of sad really, watching a child disown her family.

"Who am I?" I could hear my sister asking this in my head.

What kind of question was that? You are the same person you were before you found out that you were adopted. Nothings changed.

Later I had my own questions. All I ever wanted to know was who were my natural parents, what were they like and whether or not they loved me.

My mom could never talk to me about my adopted parents, at least not until we met later in life when I was in my 30's. And even then it was a sketchy story. She said that my mom had given my sister and I up for adoption at a very young age. We went into foster care and were passed from home to home for a couple of years because nobody wanted us. She said that all she knew was that we had it very bad according to the case worker. But there was always an indication that maybe my mom knew something she didn't want to share. Her voice would always change when she spoke to me. She would physically shudder as she spoke about it. This from a woman who endured life in Nazi Germany and had horrible memories and scars from there. As much as I wanted to know about my adoption, I could never bring myself to push her too hard. And besides that, she had a firm line she would stand on and if you tried to cross it you would lose. She could be a lot more stubborn than me sometimes.

So I am talking to my sister on the phone a month or so ago and she is almost screaming, "That adoption was not supposed to happen. Those names on the court records are made up names. They weren't going to let it happen. Dad had to fight to get it to happen."

And you really have to know my sister to get the whole effect, "Sweety," She says, "Dad told me what happened. He had to get some Senator in Arizona to push the thing through. Barry something or another. The whole thing was a whitewash!"

"Wait a minute," I say, "Are you talking about Senator Barry Goldwater?"

"Yes!" She screams, "Barry Goldwater."

Now she's talking to her husband in the background.

Sister: "Honey. It was Senator Barry Goldwater wasn't it?"

Sister's husband: "Yes, I believe it was."

I am hearing a story that I have never heard before and I am suddenly having an out of body experience. I hand the phone to Lois and we pull off in a parking lot because we are driving and I say, "You have got to hear this."

Twenty minutes later.

"That is insane!" Lois says.

"Is it?" I say.

"Well what do you think?" She asks.

"Dude, I don't know what to think anymore."

One month later.

My wife calls to tell me that we have finally got my original birth certificate.

"You are not going to believe this. This is unbelievable!"

"What?" I ask.

"This birth certificate shows two different names than what are on the court records."

My whole life I always believed my natural mom was a minor and that because she was too young to take care of us so she gave my sister and I up for adoption. I believed this because this is what I had been told.

My birth certificate showed that my moms name was entirely different than what was on my adoption records. It also showed that she was 29 years of age at the time of my birth; instead of a minor. It revealed that I had other siblings. And that my birth fathers first name was also different than the adoption records said.

After we received the adoption records and I did the math while considering my mom was a minor when she had me, I figured she would be in her mid-sixties right now. But this new age of 29 would bring her to around 77-79 depending on birthdays.

I don't know if we will ever find her but I still hold out on hope. Today I miss her. Today I wonder what happened back there. Today - like so many others - I still don't have my answers.

~September, 2009

Sara's Dog

2011-01-01T03:06:00.003-05:00

It was the juice that caught the dog’s attention. She had been sniffing the odor all night long. But when she heard it dripping on the duck, she opened up her eyes and looked at Sara. Sara was looking directly at her and she slowly wagged her tail. She wasn't allowed to eat duck unless Sara first had sawed it off the bone. That was a rule. Gypsy had learned the bone rule long ago.

   Sara didn't have to speak to Gypsy at all. Her eye was her command. She spoke to Gypsy with smiles and nods and stares. So it was that Gypsy laid on the floor, tail slowly wagging, waiting for the bell. It delighted Sara that Gypsy played the game. Each night, a while after dinner, Ivan would enter the kitchen with the bell cupped in his hand to prevent the dog from hearing it. Gypsy would look at Sara, who stood back and smiled. Ivan, who'd done the feat each night for weeks, would look at his wife and give the nod. Sara would place the bowl off in the corner where the dog generally ate and stepped away. Ivan would prepare the bell and then shake his hand.
   Ring-ring the sound came, and Gypsy would look up at Sara with one eye while the other focused on Ivan. Once, early on, Sara tested her theory and gave no nod and Gypsy sat on the floor staring at Ivan and the bowl. The whole time Ivan rang his stupid bell. Eventually he spoke rather loudly and said, "Gypsy!" To this the dog slightly stirred and then Sara smiled and ever so gently moved her head. Gypsy trotted to her bowl and began to eat. Ivan gave a “harrumph” and showed a bit of satisfaction and left the room. The bell now nestled in his hand.
   Sara decided that that was probably enough and never did it again. She would spare both Ivan and Gypsy any grief. Of course the bell trick at home was always between Sara and the dog, but Gypsy would also respond to Ivan’s bell whenever Sara wasn't around. It had become animal instinct thanks to Sara. And Pavlov never knew.

MMXL

2010-12-31T23:45:00.002-05:00

" Wishing Everyone A
Happy
New Year!"

The Emperor's New Clothes

2010-12-12T17:49:00.000-05:00

Can't Touch This

2010-12-02T22:33:00.005-05:00

Did you catch Jimmy Fallon and Bruce last night? This was pretty funny stuff.

12/1/2010

2010-12-01T18:42:00.001-05:00

Normally this post would be something you'd read on my other blog, but because time and this illness have steadily moved forward, I thought I should post something here.
I have slowly moved up the list, despite that my numbers have dropped a little over the past couple of months. In two weeks I will know if any of that will change. What won't change is the illness. I feel different these days. The soreness in my muscles constantly ache. The physical aspect of it all seems rather moot really; it has been going on for so long. What bothers me is that it is difficult to write. It is hard to keep a blog when the words don't come. I can go through the motions and blather all day long, but I don't seem to be able to finish anything.
Part of my illness is that with it comes confusion. They say that it all gets better...eventually. I would love to continue writing, but for the moment I don't think that is possible, not with any regularity. Hopefully after transplant all that will change.
I have been quite fortunate over the past couple of years. I have a loving family who have kept me strong through all of this. On my good days they have shared their love and laughter, and on my bad days they have done a good job at ignoring my sour attitude and trudged along.
I have also met a lot of people who for the most part are strangers, but have shared with me their compassion and kindness. I thank you all. There is nothing better for a bruised heart and soul than a warm greeting and hello. Somehow words always lift a smile.
For now it seems unlikely that I will be doing any posting over here. I will try to keep up with the other blog and my photo blog, but even those seem to take some work.

In the meanwhile I seem to have messed up my template over here and I can't figure out how to do any editing. Blogger refuses to let me change, add or show me anything. It's a conundrum. I may have to take some drastic measures. Advice is welcome.

Wishing you all a wonderful new year.

Pretty Penny: Part 3

2010-10-31T23:56:00.003-04:00

Pretty Penny (Part 3)

Thomas Mason, Billy Larue, Bob Sanders and Molly Carver stood in a drain pipe beneath the city of Astoria, Oregon, right off the mouth of the Columbia River. They carried flashlights and weapons. After the street lights went out they had all gone to Bob's house to gather flashlights and to arm themselves. They were going after Pretty Penny.
The kids had pulled the metal grate back where Penny had been digging and slipped down into the tunnels. The sounds of dripping water echoed through the pipes. Somewhere in the distance they heard Penny barking and the strange noise that they had been hearing all night. Thomas took the lead as they walked into the tunnel. At first they weren't sure where they were going, but when they saw a street name painted on one wall they realized that the layout was similar to the streets above where they all lived.
"What is that awful smell?" Billy asked.
"It smells fishy." Molly said.
"Dude, it really reeks." said Bob.
"I think I know what it is!" Billy exclaimed. "Maybe it's a sea monster."
"There's no such thing as sea monsters." Thomas said.
"Just think about it! How far is the river?" Billy asked.
"We live in a city that's only a mile across one way and less than two miles the other. I'd say it's not very far." Molly said.
"What if this is something new, like a new species?" Billy offered.
"Dude, there's no sea monsters." Molly said.
They walked for a little while longer until they heard Pretty Penny yelping again. She was much closer to them now and the smell was getting worse.
"What if it is a sea monster?" Bob asked.
They all looked at each other and shrugged.
"I just want Pretty Penny." Molly cried. "I want her to be safe."
"When we see her we're going to grab her and we're going to run," Thomas said.
"Does anyone know how to get back?" Billy asked.
"I do," Molly said. "We follow it back to Kensington Street and stay left."
They moved into anothet tunnel and the sound bellowed out.
"What is that?" Billy whispered.
"I know!" Molly said, "I know what that is."
The sea monster loomed over Penny. It's fins flapped along its side. The group tried to comprehend what they were looking at, but what they saw made no sense to them at all. Down here, below the city, this creature seemed impossible and out of place. The three boys looked at one another while Pretty Penny bounced and jumped and barked and yelped. She was playing with the creature and it was playing with her.
"Is that..." Thomas started.
"It's a sea lion." Molly finished, "It's been missing for two days now. They had that show at the museum and that night it disappeared."
"You mean it's been stuck down here?" Billy said, "It must have found a way in through the water ways somehow."
"We have got to go get help. We need some sort of rescue crew," Thomas said.
"Yeah," Billy replied, "I'm thinking that will cost a pretty penny."

###

By Beaux Kyle
© 2011

Pretty Penny Part II

2010-10-31T16:53:00.004-04:00

Pretty Penny (Part 2)

Bob Sanders stood frozen in his front yard. Thomas and Billy waved at him as they approached.
"Hey, guys," Bob said.
"Did you just hear something weird?" The two boys asked.
"I'm not real sure what I heard, but I think it's underground."
"Dude," Billy looked at Thomas, "There's no way I'm going down into the sewers."
"How do you know it's underground?" Thomas asked.
Bob looked at him and he appeared to be a little frightened. "I know because I stood right here in this yard and I heard the noise when it started way up there and ended when it got way down there." The boy pointed at one end of his yard and then to the other.
"It's Pretty Penny!" Billy said.
"We don't know that." Thomas replied.
"It wasn't Pretty Penny," Bob Sanders slowly shook his head.
"Why do you say that?" The boys both asked.
"Because whatever it was, Pretty Penny was chasing it."
Pretty Penny was sitting on her haunches in front of a storm drain. She had her head was cocked sideways and she was whimpering.
The boys had only gone another block when they saw her. She turned and looked at them and bared her teeth.
Thomas got off of his bike. He squatted and took one knee and called her, "Here girl. Come here Penny." Pretty Penny whimpered and ran to Thomas. She jumped up into his lap and he picked her up.
"What is it, Penny?" Bob asked. She wagged her rear and looked at the boys. Thomas thought he saw her smiling.
"I can hear it!" Thomas said.
The three of them moved closer to the storm drain and listened. They could hear running water and the sound of heavy breathing.
They all stepped back.
"I am definitely not going down there now!" Billy said.
From the time when Thomas stood on his porch; to when Molly Carver came up behind Billy and him, and to when the three boys gathered in front of the storm drain listening to the heavy breathing, only 15 minutes had passed. Since then ten more minutes had passed and three things had happened. The first thing was that they had all managed to scare themselves. Secondly, Pretty Penny was going crazy and was trying hard to access the storm drain and the third thing, which was perhaps the most important of them all, was that the Trick or Treaters were all coming out.
The sound of laughter and high pitched screaming began to fill the night.
"We have got to warn them." Billy said.
"Really, what are you going to tell them?" Bob asked, "Hey, we got a heavy breather out here."
Just then, they all heard a loud whimper and turned toward the storm drain.
"Guys," Thomas said, "Where's Pretty Penny?"
They all started looking around and were frantically calling for the pug. And then something awful happened. Molly Carver was standing in the midst of them. She looked at them and her face was full of panic. "Pretty Penny?"
"We had her," Billy said, looking at the drain. "But I think she went down there."
The hole that Penny had been working on was bigger, just enough for the small pug to slip through. Molly Carver was about to scream, but she heard a strange and familiar noise coming from the drain pipe that made her jump and suddenly Pretty Penny was barking. The noise coming from out of the drain sounded like terror. And as if it were all on cue, lightning struck and the street lamps all flickered and went out. The only light there was came from the jack-o-lanterns on the street.

Pretty Penny Pt. 1: A Halloween Tale

2010-10-30T16:27:00.009-04:00

This is my favorite season. The turning of the leaves. Halloween. Scary movies. The color of the world. For about a month it stays this way and then it turns to winter.

Pretty Penny (Part 1)

A light rain fell as the clouds began to part. Thomas loved the smell of dirt and rain. He could just see the glimmering moon as it came over the horizon. From his front porch he could hear two sounds clearly. The first did little to bother him. It was the sound of an owl hooting. The second sound ... well, the second sound sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"There it is again," he told his friend, Billy Larue.
"I heard it!" Billy whispered.
They quickly jumped off the porch and wheeled their bikes out onto the wet asphalt of Madison Street. There they waited.
While darkness slowly engulfed the last bit of day, Thomas could hear the reverberating sound of thunder as the storm moved east, streaks of lightning following it. The shrill, ominous sound pierced the silence once again and the boys jumped.
Billy buried his head in his hoody and pointed down the road toward Lexington Street. In unison the boys pedaled to the corner and stopped. For a full minute neither of them spoke. Thomas was about to open his mouth when they heard the sound again.
"Geez," Billy said, "What is that?"
Even before Thomas could answer they were pedaling again. They headed west toward 10th Street. This time neither of them stopped when they neared the next block. They crossed 9th and kept going. "One more?" they both said at the same time. Nearing 8th, they slowed down. A street light buzzed and flickered on. A glow of halogen slowly lit the street and they suddenly felt exposed. Thomas and Billy coasted under a canopy of maple trees and waited.
"It sounded like a lady." Billy whispered.
"It sounded like a tortured lady," Thomas added.
"It sounded like a tortured lady being tortured." Billy said.
Thomas looked at Billy and leaned in closer, as if he had something very important he wanted to say.
"What?" Billy asked.
"Do you know how stupid that sounded?" They both belted out laughing. Their laughter bounced off the night and seemed to echo down the street going nowhere.
"What's going on?" A voice from behind them made them jump. Billy Larue turned and looked toward the voice.
Molly Carver stood behind them staring at the night. Her long black hair lifted off her shoulders just as a gust of wind came swirling down the street.
"Wow! You look awesome," Billy said, to the eighth grader.
Molly glanced at the boy and then at herself. She frowned. "I'm not even dressed up, you punk."
"Oh," he said, realizing the mistake he made seeing her in her goth like - I'm not Goth - look. "How incredibly stupid of me." He wanted to say. Instead, he muttered, "What are you doing?"
"I've lost Pretty Penny."
"Excuse me?" The two boys said.
"My dog, Pretty Penny. I've lost her."
Just then the night filled with a screech and the three of them looked at one another..
"What is that?" Molly raised her voice.
"I thought it was a woman," Thomas said, "Now I'm not so sure. It almost sounds like an animal."
"Oh please tell me that's not, Pretty Penny." Molly whispered.
"I don't know what it is, but we're trying to find it." Thomas said, "What does your dog look like?"
"Pretty's like this," Molly moved her hands around to form her shape the best that she knew how, "And, so tall. She wears a purple scarf."
"I know that dog," Billy smiled, "It's a pug."
"Pretty Penny," Molly nodded.
"We'll find her." The two boys, said. Together, they rode their bikes to Kensington Ave.

Be Still My Beating Heart (or her heart)

2010-10-22T02:06:00.002-04:00

We just spent 4 hours in the emergency room at Primary Children's Hospital with our youngest. Lois called around 5:30 tonight and said that Aly was having deep chest pains and that she wasn't feeling well. She says she took her pulse and it was racing. All of this was very scary.

When Lois was a teenager she had to have open heart surgery and when Jeni was 11 months old she had to have heart surgery as well. They both were completely opposite things. One of them had a valve that should have closed, while the other had one that didn't open. We later found out from a heart surgeon that Jeni's condition was most likely related. Our first thought raised suspicions that maybe Aly had some sort of inherent condition.

We spent the first hour waiting to get admitted and then they did an EKG. The results from that turned out great and even though she was still in some pain that kept waxing and waning, her pulse and vitals were perfect.

Lois and Aly and I had already run through a bunch of questions trying to pinpoint some other problem even before we arrived at the hospital.

The pain it seemed, had started earlier in the week. I asked Aly if she had injured herself and Lois realized that they had almost been in a car wreck on Monday. A woman had cut in front of her and Aly while they were driving and Lois had to slam on the brakes. They both had mentioned it on Monday but I had forgotten about it. It turned out that even though there wasn't a wreck, Aly could have suffered some injury from the seat belt as they both flew forward. The pain had slowly been growing over the week and today she got sick and threw up. The doctor did an x-ray and they didn't see anything unusual. So the end result was that she had two things going on. One was a viral infection and the other was some chest trauma. Something like that. They ended up giving her some Ibuprofen and that seemed to work. We were told to keep an eye on her and see her doctor on Monday, but if there was any more of the rapid heart beating over the weekend, then we needed to bring her back.

Sigh...now I can't sleep and it's after midnight.

It's Nice to Have a Day Off.

2010-10-04T13:49:00.004-04:00

I ripped up the living room carpet last week and we started installing a hardwood Brazilian cherry floor yesterday. It required getting up and down all day long and I am sore and tired. I'm sure Lois feels just as bad as I do.

Everything is now packed into our kitchen and it looks like a giant mess. The animals of course are freaked out. We are hoping to minimize the dander problem we have and make things easier with the cleaning. But then, we have the kids so I'm not so sure how that's going to work out. You would think there was a win-win in there somewhere, but I just feel sticky stuff on the bottoms of my feet.

This stuff is pretty easy to work with provided you have the proper tools. Unfortunately my table saw is little small and using the guides is kind of hard because the wood is too wide and it is even harder doing the angles. Did I tell you there were 127 angles? The bay window, the stairway and the entry way to the kitchen all have different angles. Not easy ones like 45 degrees, but more like 41 and 67 degrees. What's up with that home builder? There is also a pantry closet and I predict a couple days inside of there. There are only 4 boxes left and the plan is to finish today. If I have time I'll post a picture.

...Laughs

(3 hours later...)

We're going to need some paint here. And some half inch molding. And a little stain. And a new back.

"You need to get out of the water and carry your raft!"

2010-09-20T00:39:00.002-04:00

On Saturday, Lois and the girls and I went river rafting. We floated the Provo River from below Deer Creek Reservoir down to an area above Bridal Veil Falls. We were worried about the weather being too cold, but as it turned out it was very warm and sunny. Perfect weather for river rafting. We stopped at Bridal Veil Falls and took several pictures.

Mountain crop just below Timpanogos Cave.

Burned out observation deck above Bridal Veil Falls

As I was taking pictures, I kept noticing a structure at the top of the Falls. I pointed it out to Lois and the girls thinking it was an observation deck and told them that there was probably a trail that led up there. Later after I did some reading on the area, I learned that there was an aerial tram that led up to the deck and that there used to be a restaurant. It was built in 1967 and the only way up there was by tram or helicopter. The tram was destroyed by an avalanche in 1996 and then was rebuilt. There was a second avalanche in 2008 that left the place in ruins and a fire later burned the ruins. A month later the tram lines were cut down and removed.

Jeni discovers there is another way of exiting a vehicle.

This is our third rafting trip. Our first was up at Flaming Gorge when we did the Green River and a couple of months ago we did Henry's Fork of the Snake River up by Island Park, Idaho outside of Yellowstone. We are starting to get pretty good at it.

This company actually told us that we had to get out of our raft, lift it over a fence and carry it past two bridges. "It's only 50 yards people!"

"You want us to do what?"

This is a part of the old Heber Creeper Railroad line that is no longer in service.

The Fall colors were so beautiful that Lois and I got up around 6:30 this morning and drove up to Park City and Heber to take some pictures and then came back around through Provo Canyon. I am going to be posting them over on my Reflections blog tomorrow.

We also went out to the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge and took some other pictures that I will probably post later on. Great day for a road trip.

One salad, please. Hold the grease

2010-08-27T02:00:00.000-04:00

Remember that time when I said my daughter was a vegetarian? And I said that I'd play her silly game? Well it turns out that it wasn't so much about her being a vegetarian at all. It was more about her hating fast food.

She really dug her feet into the ground on that one. In the past four months, she has not ordered one single thing off a fast food menu. Nary even a fountain drink. Not that that surprises me. This from the girl who boycotted Miley Cyrus for being...well, Miley Cyrus. It's kind of funny, whenever the oldest gets something in her head, she doesn't back down. She's not stubborn, she just has very strong convictions. I find this quite admirable and even a bit scary. I already have an image of a much older daughter chained to a barricade or carrying around a picket sign in front of some major corporation.
So, out of respect for Jeni's new found way of life, we have basically stopped going to drive-throughs. I have personally lost my taste and desire for the double cheeseburger. But that only depends on where I go. Today I had my first cheeseburger in weeks and it was to die for. I am a big fan of Crown Burger. Yes, that's right. That's C-R-O-W-N B-U-R-G-E-R in case you missed it.
But back to the fast food stuff. My intake of grease and cheese and quasi-cooked meat has been the bare minimum. All right, I had a Wendy's single a week ago, but I didn't like it. I am willing to guess that since Jeni's crusade started, I have only had about 4 burgers and none of them tasted good. Until today. Today was like a dream. But after I got back to work all I could smell was the after smell of raw onions and meat and whatever secret sauce was on it and I had to wash my hands a hundred times and brush my teeth. But that did nothing for me once I had to burp. Then the whole brushing of the teeth thing was over. And even popping in the three Eclipse breath mints only hid it for a moment. I finally had to admit to myself that even the To-Die-For burger wasn't worth it. It just sat there in my stomach and it frightened me.
Thank you, Jeni, for helping me see the light. I am totally with you on this fast food thing. I have lost my taste for said fast food and I think I am going to join you. I won't, however, be chaining myself to a tree or be out there boycotting whatever it is you'll be boycotting. Not any time soon. At least I don't think so.

Full Moon Rising

2010-08-25T02:39:00.003-04:00

Tonight we went to Park City and saw three great legendary musicians of soul and blues.

Under a full moon B.B. King inspired the women in the audience to reach out and kiss the man they were with. The King had no idea the moon was rising when he said it. It just magically worked out that way.

Buddy Guy opened the show and played some wild music and the audience was truly captivated by seeing the performer let it all out. I have no doubt in my mind that the 74-year-old Buddy Guy would have played all night if he could have. After playing a half dozen songs or more, Buddy ran up on to the hill where everyone was sitting and played to the crowd. He played a couple more songs and then turned the stage over to Al Green.

Mr. Green played some old yet familiar songs and just about every woman who had already had more than two glasses of wine was up on her feet swaying to the music. I was thinking to myself then what Lois mentioned to me later. "You never ever really forget a concert." This was indeed the memory of a lifetime.

I was just a teenager when most of these songs were written and in some cases just a baby boy. Our girls were with us and it is likely they will never understand what they saw tonight, perhaps three of Rock-n-Roll's most influential figures playing together for the last time.

At night's end B.B. King had most of the audience on their feet. We sang with the musician and listened to him reminisce. With the full moon rising and that kiss, how could it not be a perfect evening?

Yellowstone (as promised)

2010-07-24T01:25:00.001-04:00

So...I had hoped to show some pictures of some bears, moose and bald eagles, but unfortunately that isn't going to happen.
The day before we left on our little trip I told Lois that I needed to get another SD card to take with us. She said, "Well, why don't we empty two cards on the home computer and delete the cards and take them with us?"
"That works for me." I said.
And 48 hours later I filled one card that had less megabytes then I realized and we had brought along a card that was already defective and wouldn't read when it was placed in the camera. So we decided to empty the working card onto Lois' computer (a Mac) and just use it. When we got home we found that it had transferred more than one file repeatedly to her computer and there was a large file and a small file. In some case only small files and the transfer had repeated itself as many as 4 times. I have no idea why this happened (maybe because it was a Mac), but it was too late to fix because the original card was already deleted. Sigh.
Anyhow, I have one picture of a blue bird and an assortment of pictures Aly took.

(be sure to click on the photos to enlarge them)

On our second day into the park we saw the same usual suspects, there were bison and elk and a number of eagles. Later in the day we finally saw our first bear.
The first grizzly we saw was a long ways off -- too far for any good pictures. The next bear was a black bear and I couldn't get a good picture of it through all the high grass. Aly, however, had better luck. Later we saw another grizzly and her two cubs.

We saw at least 6 or 7 bald eagles and a couple of osprey. That is the most I've ever seen in the park. I also think I am getting a little bit better at spotting them.

This year we went to a place near Fishing Bridge that we've never been before. We've been on Fishing Bridge before and just a little past it, but there was another 19 miles of road that we hadn't seen before heading to the east entrance. We didn't go the whole distance because it was late, but we drove to a place above Yellowstone Lake just before sunset and watched two-foot swells skim across the surface. It was like looking at the white caps on the ocean.

After that we hurried off towards West Thumb and went to Grant Village and ate at a restaurant overlooking the lake from the other side. We got there just as it turned completely black outside and were relieved to get some food before everything closed up for the evening.
The following day -- Aly's birthday -- Lois' brother Ken took us down Henry's Fork of the Snake River in canoes. It turned out to be another windy day and even though we were headed downstream, for a while there we kept moving back upstream. After hours on the river the girls and their cousin eventually got tired of being in the canoes that they all got out and started wading downstream. In all we spent about five hours on the river that day. I was happy to be able to go this year.

We stayed at my brother-in-laws cabin and we had a great time. At night you could turn out the lights and see the Milky Way and just about every star there was up in outer space. I had forgotten how much I missed the mountains. Next time I'm going to have to try taking a picture of the stars.

"Wait! What?"

2010-07-16T01:39:00.001-04:00

Overheard from the backseat of our Toyota as we headed to Yellowstone.

(Girls talking)
Aly: "Do remember the time when mom gave us that chap stick and we both ate it?"

Jeni: "Yes! Dude, that was so gross."

Aly: "Why'd we finish it?"

Jeni: "I don't know?"

(Me)
"Wait! What?" I asked.

"Mom gave us some chap stick that was Tootsie Roll flavored and we thought it was candy so we ate it."

"So you just kept eating it?" I asked.

"Yes. We didn't know any better."

"And the taste didn't give you a clue?"

"Um..not really. (long pause) Why did we finish it?"

Our road trips usually divulge certain things about ourselves. This conversation shows that the girls don't always use their heads. But in their defense, I don't really know how old they were when this took place. However, this one sentence -- "I'm leaving now." -- bounced around the cab of the Forerunner for a brief moment before we all chimed in and said, "Wait! What? Where do you think you're going? We're in a moving vehicle."
We had more conversations that went a lot like this but I'm not at liberty to talk about. They may be considered a little incriminating for some of us. We did however make it to Yellowstone and back and nobody was wounded or left for bait. We saw plenty of animals and I will post a few pictures when I have a chance to retrieve them off my wife's computer.

In the meanwhile I wanted to say a few words to let everyone know I'm still here. I've had a couple of inquiries and I thought I should at least respond. So...I'm still here.

I also wanted to say thanks to a couple of new followers. It's funny how you can not write and still gain followers. I'm not sure how that works but it makes me happy when it does happen. So thank you and to you over there in Lisbon. Thank you also.

I promise to write more on Yellowstone.

In the Moment

2010-07-05T15:56:00.000-04:00

Each Fourth of July weekend the family has usually gone to Ogden, Utah, for the big Hot Rockin' Fourth of July Festival thing that they have going on. The last two years the girls have gone without us and spent time with the family. This year was a little different. The girls were invited by Lois' niece Tracy (and their cousin) to go camping in the mountains afterward.

This has been one of the things that they have been dying to do for a very long time. I am anxious to hear the details of how the night was spent sleeping on the cold ground, slapping mosquitoes and using the facilities of the great outdoors for an outhouse. I have been somewhat reluctant to take them camping anywhere for this very same reason. It was just this year that Lois proposed the idea once again of maybe taking the girls on a camping trip. We had just spent a morning up Millcreek Canyon and the thought of spending time in a nice manicured campground didn't seem like a bad idea. And besides, I was once a child and I remember having that same desire to go run and frolic in the woods. At least if I get cold and tired and scared from the thought of catching West Nile Disease, then I can just curl up in the Toyota Forerunner (which is where I'd be sleeping anyways, I'm sure).

I suppose I could handle this. Just because I'm almost 50 doesn't mean I should deny the girls this kind of opportunity. And there are no rules when camping. Just because the girls would be sleeping on the ground doesn't mean I have to.

Anyways, what I really wanted to say had nothing to do with camping. I just got sidetracked.

Lately Lois and I and the girls have just been taking things slow. We've kind of developed this free sense of adventure. Most often we have been taking a lot of short road trips and wandering around the valley taking lots of pictures. I'm going to have to find a place where I can download them because all my cards are starting to get full. We have also found a lot of cool things around the valley that we otherwise would be oblivious to. It's a lot like stopping to smell the roses.

Everything seems less important these days. We seem to take one day at a time. It is not always that easy because you still have to plan, but for now it seems to be working out between work and doctor appointments and time off. We are hoping to make it to Yellowstone again this year. That would be fun and I know the girls would love it. My only worry is that there's no cell phone reception where we go and that is not good when you are on a transplant waiting list. For the time being, we are living in the moment and things are good there.

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-20T11:45:00.000-04:00

Super Size Someone Else

2010-05-31T00:07:00.001-04:00

A month or so ago my oldest watched a movie at school called "Super Size Me". I didn't pay too much attention to this because it kind of seemed redundant. I know at the time she declared that she would never eat at McDonald's again.

"Yes...whatever," I thought, "I'll play your silly game."

And then it came to my attention that not only was she not eating at McDonald's any more, but she wasn't eating fast food from anywhere any more. Or meat.

Somehow I had missed that one.

"You're not eating meat?" I asked.

"I'm a vegetarian," she replied.

"When did that happen?" I asked.

"She saw a movie..." Lois started to explain.

"Yeah, I remember that."

In my head I was thinking: "Wasn't that like a month ago? Haven't we been eating meat all this time? Has she been eating 'not meat' every time we sit down for dinner for the past month? And because it was late Sunday afternoon and we were all starving and driving around town doing weekend shopping stuff, I asked myself the most important question of all. "Where the hell are we going to eat?"

Later on a little light bulb came on and I was all, "That's why she's been eating all those avocados! And why Lois bought that tofu the other day. And why Jen is always asking about gelatin."

The other day while Lois and I were walking through the grocery store and doing this double shopping thing, I asked her, "Does Jen know what she's doing?"

Lois explained to me that she told Jen that if she's really going to do this, then she needs to educate herself on what's a balanced diet and how to prepare foods.

"I'll help her," Lois said, "But this is like uncharted territory. We're just going to have to play it by ear. And in the meanwhile, if she's going to stay away from anything bad, it may as well be fast food."

I had to laugh. Remember when it used to be just drugs and alcohol?

"Pay me in gum? I love that idea."

2010-05-19T22:31:00.000-04:00

My girls are generally pretty good kids. Except now they are at an age where they fight a lot. They are always bickering about this or that, and there is no rhyme or reason to it. I see a little competing but I don't really understand it. What the hell are they competing for?

We have always tried to teach them about respect and courtesy and that kind of thing. And for the most part they get it. They are nice and polite outside of the home. Their school teachers tell us how wonderful they are and that they wish they had more students like them.

"My kids!" I think to myself. "Have you met my kids?"

Now that they are older we have had them doing a number of chores around the house. Since they wanted animals, we've been very adamant that they take care of them. They get to change the kitty litter on garbage day and clean up after all the critters they have. After school they load the dishwasher and put the clean ones away. Or we have them run a load of clothes in the washer. But the biggest thing is just getting them to clean up after themselves. They just don't do it. You can literally watch them leave a trail behind them as they go about their day.

It starts with a water glass that gets left on the table and then maybe a plate or a napkin. After a while there are potato chip wrappers that have been discarded here and there. Pretty soon you don't even notice them because they have been kicked under the couch or table. And then the clothes start to pile up. The ones that they washed and dried and never put away. Then you notice that they have been sitting on half a couch because the other half is full of laundry.

I'm beginning to think it's time to take away their allowance (if we haven't already) and use some other sort of incentive.

I guess it's a good thing that they don't care about an allowance.

Not Dead

2010-04-25T15:33:00.001-04:00

I'm not dead. All though I have been feeling kind of miserable lately.

A couple of weeks ago I was balanced on the edge of the tub leaning in to wash my hair when my knees came out from under me and I slipped. I came down rather hard with my hands inside the tub and my legs outside; straddling the ledge with my rib cage. At the time I considered myself very lucky. I could have broken a rib, or worse, cracked one. I didn't go to the doctor because I knew all they would do was take some x-rays, wrap my ribs and charge me $500.00. I figured I may as well save myself some money.

What I should have done was take some of the money I was saving and sprung for some Tylenol and a large Ace bandage and wrapped my own ribs. I can't believe how much pain I have been in for the past couple of weeks. Last night after I got off work we ran and got a bandage. I almost feel like a new man. Even though I'm still sore as hell, it has improved my quality of life tenfold.

I still don't know whether I have a cracked or broken rib(s). It seems to be a moot point now. I do know that I'll be keeping this Ace bandage close by for a while.

In other news, just before my bathroom plunge we went to San Francisco for a few days. The weather was slightly warmer and I would go as far as saying that it was perfect travelling weather. We dined everyday on the Wharf and spent a great deal of time visiting the street vendors (we didn't buy much) and riding the trolley cars and BART system. The girls played on the beach and even though the water was still freezing, they lied and said it wasn't just for a chance to get wet.

We took them to the Exploratorium which is located at the Palace for Fine Arts and checked out the giant science museum. If you have kids or you are an adult who just likes science, it is a neat place to check out. It is also free to the public on the first Wednesday of every month. We went to Alcatraz and that was really cool. The girls were pretty fascinated with the history of the place and the stories. I got to listen to one of the curators tell the story of the Birdman.

There were about a thousand things I wanted to do but didn't have time. I wished we'd gone to the Aquarium. I wished I'd have taken more pictures. I wished I had eaten a lobster tail. I wish I'd crossed the Golden Gate bridge. I guess we will just have to go back.

Travelling with the girls is always a fun thing. Once they loosened up and they have no place to go, conversations between them get more relaxed and you learn a little about them. One argument went like this:

"I'm making your heart beat."

"No you're not!"

"Yes, I am. You can hear it can't you?"

"You're not making my heart beat!"

"Am, too."

"Am, not,"

"See, there it goes again."

"Mom, Jeni say's she's making my heart beat..."

After the California border we stopped at the agriculture check point where they asked us about fruits and vegetables. They questioned us and then had us open our trunk. The oldest yells: "Is this because we're black?"

"Jen! We don't talk like that," my wife says.

"Is this because we're people of different color?"

"Move along." The trooper said.

I also started another blog because I have nothing better to do. It is mostly like a photo journal and there are supposed to be poems and stuff. Even though I haven't written one or expect to. I just figured I'd say I could in case I did. It's called Reflections and it's on my side bar or you can hit This link.

In all, Spring break was nice. The kids were a blast. And the rib thing sucked but I will survive. There is also a sidebar to see other pictures on my photo post.

Take good care. I have been moving slow and reading most of your blogs. Sorry I don't always comment. I get tired a lot these days.

I will leave you with some pictures of San Francisco.

Fisherman's Wharf

Alcatraz

San Francisco

Golden Gate Bridge

The Bay Bridge

Pier 39

(50 feet above sea level)

Something for Kreg

Walmart Delivery

Some Street

Home of Monk

Clueless

2010-04-03T13:37:00.001-04:00

Apparently blogging has taken second seat to just about everything I do these days. It's in a close race with my procrastination. Actually I guess that's not entirely true. I write quite a lot. I just don't publish anything. I probably have about 2 dozen drafts sitting on my desktop right now. I have no idea how many I have in blogger.

I'm pretty sure all of this has to do with being ill. So I kind of think this is going to get worse until I get better. That kind of bites considering I really like blogging. Until I figure out how I'm going to fill the void I guess I'm going to probably be snapping more pictures, drawing more cartoons and leaving colorful comments on your blogs. I'm a bit undecided because everyday is different and tomorrow I might be sleeping. But that is my plan. Plus painting stick people can be hard work.
Right now my procrastination is working overtime. I somehow need to get a handle on this or find someone to help me. I have this plumbing thing I need to take care of in my bathroom and I finally bought all the parts a month ago and I have still not done anything. I have the wrenches sitting right there where I need them, the cabinet under my sink is empty to make working more easier and all I need to do is gather up all the parts (which are probably all scattered here and there or are lost by now) and start working on it. My wife has been telling me that she has a leak in her bath tub now for two months that needs fixing and yesterday she informed me that in 24 hours it filled up half the tub. I'm not a mathematician, but that's got to be a lot of water. Even my damn priorities are screwed up. I've been worrying more about my non leaking problem in my bathroom than what's actually happening in her bathroom. I think I will address this next Saturday. Maybe on Sunday.
Meanwhile, on the homefront. My youngest has busted up her leg. It didn't break. She just stretched some ligaments. I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I went down the slide...on my knees...while it was wet...so I wouldn't get wet."
I can see how she would have thought that that was the better solution. Because who wants to go down the slide only to get their butt wet? Knees are okay though because...because...huh?
It is Spring break and the oldest brought home a quarter ream of homework. How inconsiderate was that of all the teachers?
Get a clue.

Hope everyone has a Happy Easter.

Full Moon

2010-03-29T01:11:00.002-04:00

The Lady on the Moon
Do you see Her?

All The Cool People Are Doing It

2010-03-23T13:58:00.001-04:00

Dear Facebook,

I know we have only known each other for a short time; shorter than MySpace, but I think it's time we said good bye. The truth of the matter is I'm not very fond of you, or the likes of you. That is why I dumped MySpace. Even now, MySpace still haunts me and continues to stalk me by sending me e-mails begging me to come back. I've tried to use my spam filter, but that hasn't helped any. I wish I could have deactivated it, but I didn't know how. I had to resort to deleting all my information, but I'm still considered a user. I think MySpace is the user.
But seriously, FB, I didn't really know what I was getting into when I signed on with you either. Oh...I know you found two of my friends, and that was nice of you. But what else has come from this relationship? Lately you have become a real nuisance. You are kind of overbearing with all your new rules and notifications and your apps have become increasingly invading and borderline obnoxious. I don't like the way they sometimes make up random lies about me. Like saying I've joined the Starbucks Pastry Team. I didn't do that. And this thing about sending out 'Smiles', I never did that one either. What is it with you? I've never sent out anything. My wife has sent me butterflies before, but that's about it.
And what about the games you play? Millions and millions of users are trapped for hours at a time playing Farmboy or Scrabble or whatever the hell you have them doing. Even I got sucked into that awful scramble word game. And I don't know how many hours I've watched my family looking for Easter eggs.
Well I'm tired FB, and I really see no sense in continuing on with this online affair. All my friends already know where to find me. So it is kind of pointless. Plus, it's not like I spent a lot time visiting you anyways. I really don't think you'll even miss me, what with the millions of people who sign on everyday.
So good luck FB, and please don't pull any of that crap MySpace has been doing. It gets really old.

Sincerely, Customer User 2,486,394

Aye Matey

2010-03-21T00:46:00.002-04:00

On St Patrick's Day we had two birthdays in our family. Lucy, our black lab, turned 8 years old and Shamrock, one of our guinea pigs, turned 2. What was supposed to be a pleasant evening of animal celebration soon turned into chaos. Jenifer went downstairs and found that one of their gerbils was very sick and seconds later it quit breathing. From what we can piece together, the little critter was doing his exercise running on the wheel when it slipped and landed on the sharp edge that he had been using as a chew toy.

This obviously traumatized the girls and we told them we would replace it with another one the next day. But they were having trouble with the idea and didn't seem interested. This is like their third gerbil/hamster/guinea pig that they have lost over the past two or three years. It is always a horrific event and their girlfriends all come over and they dig a hole in the corner of the yard and gather around and say a prayer and for two or three days they all share stories about the particular critter who has passed. It seemed so much easier back in the day when they stood around the toilet bowl and flushed their favorite fish. Nowadays when a fish dies they just grab it and flush it. No more mourning, or tears, or prayers. Just the sound of water and a quiet, "Goodbye".
I decided that maybe...just maybe, we were ready for birds. So I talked to a friend who said that he had a cage that his son was selling and that his kid would probably give me a deal. The deal turned out to be a $140.00 cage for $25.00. That was such a deal that it made getting the birds-- a pair of parakeets the girls named Max and Eliza -- very nearly a steal.

Eliza and Max

Six Impossible Things (A quick review)

2010-03-17T15:14:00.004-04:00

It occurred to me the other day while watching the new Alice in Wonderland, that I had never read the book. All the things I believed to be part of the story were actually bits and pieces of things I'd heard growing up over the years. As I googled some of the characters I learned that there were similar characters written later in Through the Looking Glass and that the story weaved itself differently through many versions that have been written over the years. Even in Burton's version I had to ask myself. Was it really Wonderland or Underland? And what about the Jabberwocky? Was he in Alice in Wonderland? And Tweedledum and Tweedledee? And what did the Dormouse really say? It wasn't, "Feed your head."
My oldest daughter -- the one who loves the Beatles and Bob Marley -- was dying to see this movie. She loved the Mad Hatter and Absolem -- the Hookah-Smoking Caterpillar (I am really starting to wonder about her. I can almost hear her singing the lyrics to White Rabbit by the Jefferson Airplane).
We all loved the movie. Depp was great as usual and Helena Bonham Carter didn't have to do much to get into character, all she had to do was throw on some make up. Hathaway was a little odd and I'm not sure black and white is her color. Mia Wasikowska was a natural playing the ever enchanting Alice. She was as much as I would imagine her character should be: Strong and determined, kind and compassionate, and charming and lovely. She was really everything but lost. As far as modern day fairy tales go, I give it 4 thumbs up and the 3D effects were pretty good. Plus for 11 or 12 bucks you get to keep the glasses.

I got my eye on you.

2010-03-13T15:57:00.000-05:00

After buying Frosties from the Wendy's hamburger place around the corner we drove on home.

"There's only one straw!" I said.

"That's for your drink, sweetie." Lois said.

"What about my Frosty?" I asked. "What will I do without a straw?"

"That's what the spoons are for." Lois explained, "Don't worry, we have straws at home."

Pulling into the drive way, Lois quickly told each of us what we all needed to do as we got into the house.

"Beaux, call you other daughter and tell her food is here. AnaLisa, You and Aly get your snowboard out of the trunk of the car and take it in the house. Alyson, would you also get Princess a straw."

"I'm not a Princess!" I yelled.

Without missing a beat and a deadpan look, my wife looked at me and said, "I wasn't talking about you."

(Nicely played you. Nicely played.)

Frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails,

2010-03-07T02:00:00.001-05:00

Lois meets her great-nephew.

Jackson Christopher Martin

Quit Spamming me Spammers

2010-02-28T15:20:00.002-05:00

Not a lot happening. I got kind of sick and we had to adjust some of my medications, but I am doing better now. Then I actually caught a cold and took some time off of work. I am just getting over that.
I have been doing my best to keep up with everyone's blogs, but I have to admit I have missed some.
Meanwhile I have been watching the Olympics and I have discovered I love figure skating just as much as I love speed skating. Ever since Lois and I got to see Apolo Ohno in the 2002 Olympics here is Salt Lake, I have become a big fan. There is something magical about the Olympics. It's as if all the unrest in the world disappears for a couple weeks and we're all on the same team. Sure there is all the rivalry, but generally without the hostility. Plus watching figure skating while listening to Metallica in the background is also kind of fun.
Also, my oldest turned into a teenager on the 22nd. I was going to blog about that but didn't. That might give you an idea about how crappy I was feeling. Happy Birthday Sweetheart! This morning she actually said, "Remember back in the day when..."
Sometimes I really question her age. Her favorite group is the Beatles and she is always talking about Bob Marley.

I also spent this morning cleaning up spam and I have turned back on my word verification for a little while.

(Okay, I changed my mind, C I. This is a real post)

Random Zoo Fotos

2010-02-18T23:26:00.003-05:00

Recent shots that Aly took at the zoo

Mmm?

Yum

...zzzzzzzzz...

"I'm crouching tiger, I mean snow leopard."

Tuxedo Twins

"I'm a Soul Man."

"I'm tired."

Baby

For Whom the Bells Toll

2010-02-17T21:06:00.000-05:00

I have been following a blogger lately named Barry. Barry and his wife live in Toronto and if you don't already know this gentleman, then you should drop by and peruse some of his posts. He has an eloquent way with words and has a brilliant way of expressing himself on paper. Or in this case I suppose we should call it cyberspace.

Barry is doing something fun tomorrow (on the 18th) and hundreds of followers are joining in, including Lois and myself. Go visit Barry's blog and see what the Bell is all about. It is a refreshing idea that another blogger named Anvilcloud came up with to help Barry celebrate tomorrow's event. I think it is ingenious and an inspiration.

Bye to an old friend

2010-01-30T13:25:00.001-05:00

There is a heavy sadness today. Last night my wife's cat of 23 years passed away. Oscar has been part of the family almost ten years longer than I have, and he has known the girls since the day we brought them home from the hospital. When I first met him he was a healthy twenty-two pound cat who loved to jump in your lap and wanted nothing more than to be loved by someone and petted.

We have known for quite some time that this was probably Oscar's last year. Last night he yeowed, stumbled and went behind the couch. I glanced behind me just in time to see that he was moving slowly and I saw him wobble. I pulled the couch out just far enough away from the wall so that Aly could squeeze in to lift him out. She was crying and said, "Mama, I think he's sick."

His eyes were cloudy and we gently covered him in a towel because he was cold. We suspect that he may have had a stroke.

We thought of taking him to the vet but we knew they would just put him to sleep. And since he wasn't howling out in pain, we chose to keep him with us.

He looked at each of us as we all gathered around him. Lois held him in her lap as we all sat around and cried like babies. She told us all the Oscar stories that we've heard time and time again and we all laughed and cried.

I eventually had to go to bed because I had to work and the girls and Lois camped out in the family room. The girls set up an airbed by the couch and Lois curled up on the couch with Oscar in her arms.

At 1:30 this morning Lois came upstairs crying and said that Oscar was gone.

It has been a long time since I've felt this sort of grief. Sitting here I have tears rolling down my cheeks. I am thinking of my wife and the pain she must be going through. I am thinking of my youngest daughter who woke up this morning only to learn about her beloved friend and then who fell back to sleep with tears on her face. And later this morning, the other will wake up to the sad news and the crying will continue.

I have not seen our family shed this many tears in a long time. And as my friend Renee said the other day, "Hard times."

Please stop by and offer your condolences to my wife at Miscellany.

Ghost of birthdays past

2010-01-24T14:17:00.000-05:00

Today is my 49 birthday. A little over a year ago I had my doubts that I'd make it this far. Now I realize that was only fear.

My children and my wife showered me with chocolate, books and clothes this morning, and I think we're going to see Avatar.

I've never been big on the birthday thing. Before I got married I kind of always disappeared. I've always been somewhat of a loner. Even after 13 years of marriage it is still hard for me to get used to it. It is amazing how we as children can be psychologically scarred for life. My father, who was once mad at me and in fury took away my gifts right before my birthday or Christmas. I can't remember which. He dragged out a little red tool box out of the closet that they were going to give me and said, "See this, this is mine now." The other gifts came out and went away just the same. I have never quite gotten over that.

I am still not used to it, but as the children get older and their want for celebration gets more enthusiastic each year I cannot help but smile. They are pivotal in coaxing out the little boy in their father. Sometimes I am stunned by their actions when they do something that brings tears of joy to my face.

I look forward to the many years ahead, and while I don't want to live to be a 100, I want to see them date and go to college and walk them down a rose-strewn sheet of pedals. I want to hold grandchildren and watch them laugh and play. I want to shower them with gifts.

Darkness

2010-01-15T01:36:00.000-05:00

Tonight there is a new moon. From what my wife tells me, Haiti at night is pitch black. Imagine how that must be right now. Swallowed in darkness. Now imagine being swallowed in rubble and darkness.
My heart breaks for this country. As if they didn't have enough hardships already.
Lois went to Haiti in 2000. She went with a Salt Lake City team called Healing Hands for Haiti on assignment to write about their work establishing a rehabilitation clinic.
For nine years she has talked about her experience there. She has talked about it often with a gulping, stifled cry.
She has talked about this beautiful place that has garbage piled knee deep on the sides of the streets because the garbage trucks don't run and there's no place for the people to put it.
Now there are bodies stacked there as well. She has talked about the people she describes as lovely and who hang onto hope, always smiling.
For the last two days as news breaks through in bits and pieces, she cries and half screams, "They need equipment!" The rehab clinic that she helped work on is now in rubble and there is no word on some of the staff. But the doctors and nurses that work in these clinics may not even be capable of helping the wounded. Nobody knows. The bandages and medicines that are extremely needed are now buried beneath the rubble.
My wife's niece over at From the Top of the Stairs sent out an e-mail today to friends and family saying that her friend had just gone to Haiti (just outside Port au Prince) on Sunday for what was supposed to be a 10-day humanitarian mission helping out in an orphanage. She has a broken ankle and cuts, but there is worry of infection. Another thing buried in the rubble is antibiotics.
I was thinking of what Lois said the other night, "It is pitch black and the night is filled with screams. I can't imagine."
Tonight this keeps running through my mind and I am praying for some comfort and hope and help.

Happy Holiday Everyone

2009-12-24T18:07:00.000-05:00

" Happy

Holiday!"

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Ho Ho Huh!?

2009-12-22T14:04:00.001-05:00

The Smile

2009-12-20T04:11:00.003-05:00

1996 St. Petersburg

He couldn't talk when I saw him. He smiled though. His face lit up as big as day.
Every so often he would reach over and grab my arm and speak to me in a rapid voice. It was as if he was trying to tell me something of the utmost importance. But he was incapable of speech and all I heard was: "Thr mi dush arn efas dechs."
"What?" I kept asking. But all I got was the same thing and I would wipe his eyes because he was crying.
My mom said that he didn't understand and that he was incoherent.
Not that incoherent, I thought. The man recognized me. He knows who I am.
Again with the Kleenex. This time to his nose. He blew and I had to get another one.
It's all real vague still. I look back and kick myself for not staying longer by his side.
I should have spent my nights in the hospital. I should have held his hands during the day.
But I went with my mother to the wharf or a ballgame; whatever the agenda was that day.
You see ... we had not seen each other in 12 years.
I had walked out on my parents when I was 11 years old. Almost 12 years later I returned. For 6 months I stayed with them and lived their lives. And then I walked out on them again. And almost 12 years later here I was again, holding my father’s hand. He wouldn't let go. Every time I got up to leave the room he would try to upright himself and ramble faster than speech is meant to go. "Dnt Goa."
He understands.
"I'm coming right back," I'd tell him. In the hall I'd cover my face and sob. This went on every day that I was there.
Every time I'd enter the room I would say it, "Hello, Dad." My smile somewhat broken. Up close you could probably see right through it. Hairline cracks ready to shatter. Me thinking: Keep smiling dad or I'm going to break.
I do remember his smile. The day I shaved his face for him he kept running his hands across it. Beaming. Happy.
There was laughter there. I smiled just as hard and still tears rolled down my cheek. We must have looked like two nerdy twins.
The night I left his room after saying goodbye was the hardest. He cried and bounced and spoke that rapid language.
"Is he going to be all right?" I asked my mom.
I think she said, "Yes."
But the real answer was no.
I've never told anyone this. There was never a reason. My father died from brain cancer and other complications.
After spending a whole life apart from each other, we reunited for one week to say goodbye. The one thing I will never forget over that week before I had to return home, was how he would smile.

Today I miss you, Dad.

I'm thinking about it...

2009-12-17T01:22:00.000-05:00

Lately I have been feeling kind of removed. And moved. So many things seem to be happening these days that it is hard for me to get a grasp on them. I am almost like a whirlwind of polarity. Happy Sad. Scared Brave. Awake Asleep. You get the picture.

The one thing that I do know is that I am having trouble writing these days. I find myself writing 10 or 20 posts and when my desktop gets full I delete them.

"Well quit deleting them; there's your problem!" you're probably saying.

And you could be right...maybe. But I think it's more than that. I think I'm starting to lose my train of thought. No really.

I've written three post for a Part 2 of a Spoon Full of Sugar and nothing is working. I've written about the Large Hadron Collider and Admiral Richard Byrd's obsession with The Hollow Earth. I've written about The Traitorous Eight and Shockley Semiconductor Laboratory. And I've written 3 posts called Crap, More Crap and Pieces of Crap. It seems like one of these should have worked.

"Quit deleting them!"

I am almost thinking about one of those twenty-things post. Almost.

A Spoon Full of Sugar...

2009-12-01T23:51:00.000-05:00

A year ago the girls made a deal with their mom. They would both quit drinking soda pop for a year if they were each paid a $100 dollars. I'm not sure how this even came about. Maybe it was a New Year's resolution gone bad and somehow mom was conned out of money? I'm guessing it went something like this:

Daughter 1. "My New Year's resolution is to quit drinking pop for a year."

Lois.             "You won't do that."
Daughter 1.    "I'll bet you a hundred dollars right now!"
Daughter 2.    "Oh, me too, me too!"

Whatever happened, a deal was made and it looks like the girls will be receiving some money come New Year's Eve.
It has really been nice, though. We have probably saved ourselves a lot of money between buying pop and dentist appointments. And I am pretty sure we've made fewer dental appointments for them in the past year.
The other day while Lois and I were driving into work, Lois told me that Aly asked her if she could get her money early. She said Aly wanted to use it to buy Christmas presents. This made me smile. Aly has always had a good heart and she is always thinking of others. Whenever she does something like this it always melts my heart.
At Christmas time she is always the first to run up to the Salvation Army's Santa Claus to drop change into the bucket. In the summer she will ask if we can give the guy on the corner a buck or two. The other day while walking through the grocery store Aly asked if she could buy a couple cases of food to donate to her food drive at school.
I have always admired this trait of hers and I am moved by it each time she does it.
As we drove into work on that one morning Lois went on to say: "Do you know what your other daughter is going to buy?"
"What?" I asked.
"I don't know, probably Hot Cheetos and clothes. But I'm pretty sure she'll spend it on herself." Lois said.
And we both laughed because Lois is right. And I love her just as much but for different reasons.

Weekend Photos and Touch-ups

2009-11-28T03:17:00.004-05:00

There is no post here today, just some pictures. I promise I'll write something sometime soon. Even if it's one of those twenty things about something. I might be able to come up with 10.

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving.

The Fishing Trip

2009-11-23T00:03:00.001-05:00

And you're searching for this why?

2009-11-11T21:41:00.001-05:00

The other day I was looking at a google search that someone did trying to find my blog. Actually they weren't trying to find my blog at all; they were looking for something else and ended up at my blog.
The search query was "forced to smell teachers feet." I looked at Lois and I told her that someone had just found my blog by that query and she laughed. "How weird is that?"

I didn't really give it much thought until the next time it happened, which was only a couple of days later. So I clicked on the link because I couldn't understand how my blog kept coming up with that search. It turned out that a story I wrote during Halloween carried the line, "forced to smell feet" and there was another post that I had written that had something to do with teachers. My blog has since then come up numerous times under that google search.

The other night I ran across yet another query for this and Lois once again said, "How weird is that? Why would anyone even think about looking for 'forced to smell teachers feet?' People are just bizarre."

I shrugged my shoulders and agreed.

Tonight when we came home from buying the girls some winter boots, I turned on my computer and looked at my blog and, yes, there was yet another search for "forced to smell teachers feet."

I of course told Lois and then listened to her jump out of her skin at the mere creepy thought. She said she was going to google it right then and see what came up.

A minute later she said, "Well, you're not in the top 10."

"That's good." I thought.

"You're number 12 out of 2,710,000. Huh, you should read number 13."

Or maybe not.

Moon Rise

2009-11-02T01:57:00.004-05:00

Beautiful moonrise tonight.

Happy Halloween!

2009-10-30T01:21:00.003-04:00

Happy Halloween!

Kregarious

2009-10-26T04:05:00.003-04:00

When Lorrie Veasey from Our Name is Blog first said that she was going to send Krëg our way, I was a little apprehensive...what with the children and all. I thought my girls might pick up some bad habits. But as it turned out, I think they all swapped some ideas.

Like there was the time when I caught the girls showing Krëg how to fill up water balloons to throw at people. I was going to talk to them about it and tell them not to encourage him, but then he decided to show them it was much easier chasing people with a water hose.

When we first picked up Krëg, he had just stepped off the fun bus from Wendover, NV. We asked him how he did but he just held his head down and seemed a little reluctant to talk about it. Somehow he overshot Salt Lake by over a hundred miles and wound up in a casino.

Krëg said that he was really starving because he hadn't eaten anything for three days. He asked if we could go Red Lobster. We were sorry to inform him that we didn't have a Red Lobster.

First night out on the town

After dinner we took him out to see an NBA Jazz game. He seemed to really enjoy that. By the time it ended it was pretty late so we took him home and showed him the guest room.

Jazz game

The following day we took Krëg to the Great Salt Lake, unfortunately the seagulls kept attacking him. Later we decided to take him river rafting up on the Green river and he thought that was pretty cool.

River rafting

The next day Aly had a field trip and he decided to hang out with her and her class because Lois and I had to work. I thought that was real nice of him.

Krëg on the school bus.

Krëg telling the school kids where to go.

When they got back, the girls talked Krëg into rocking out with them for a jam session. They even talked him into wearing their band outfits. I think he was a real good sport about it.

Jeni and Krëg

Alyson and Krëg

We were going to take Krëg around town and show him some of the local sites, but even we realized that letting Krëg loose in downtown Salt Lake City was probably not a good idea. So we did the next best thing and took him up to Park City. Krëg wanted to go to a bar but I explained to him the alcohol content is only .032 percent.

Park City, Utah

"Are you sure you want to go that route?" I asked, "You may have to drink 23 beers to get a buzz. Plus, I guarantee they won't let you on stage to play in the band in this state. You need to have something like a business license to get onstage. And, if you get caught drinking while you're playing, you will have to pay unbelievable fines."
"That's just ridiculous," he mumbled, "I think I want to go back to Dallas."
Five minutes later Krëg was gone. We went looking all over for him but we couldn't find him. One person said they might have seen him hitch-hiking with a Colorado sign in his hand. But then they changed their mind and said it could have been Canada.
We had a good time though, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation, Krëg, and make it home safely.

Random Weekend Shots

2009-10-19T20:27:00.005-04:00

A Real Live Pumpkin Head

Girls being crazy

Going into Hibernation

Girls rock climbing in sandals

Lois waiting for girls to tumble off of big rock

Snow and Autumn

My Beautiful family

The Dark Night.

2009-10-17T00:44:00.003-04:00

The warrior looked at the woman and grimaced. He could not quite understand why she smiled at him. Her face was grotesque and it almost sickened him to look at the protrusion that stuck out on her face between her eyes. It had to be three inches long and there was some sort of lump on it. He wanted to use his laser sword that he carried on his side to remove it. It would only take him a moment, he thought. And that tall black thing she wore on her head was very strange to look at. The pointy thing hung down like it was some kind of animal and it moved every time she cackled. He saw no function for it. These creatures were so primitive.
Now she was holding a large orange object in her hands and when she set it down on the ground she reached inside of it and used something to start a fire. He did not understand how she did it. The fire seemed to jump out of a magic box. That device could prove to be functional. When he returned this way he would stop by and remove it from her hand. He was itching to use his laser. But for now he was only here to observe.
As darkness started moving across the sky he began to see them. They were everywhere. They looked like bugs crawling out of nowhere in masses. High shrill voices made him grab his ear. They were small creatures but they were different from the woman. He almost recognized some of them. But he couldn't understand how these creatures came to be grouped together. It was as if they were in alliance with each other. He had not expected this. All of them carried some sort of satchel with them and they all traveled from one lodge to another chanting the very same thing.
He stood by the corner of a lodge and watched as a group of creatures went to the doorway. In unison they screamed those same words when the door opened.
"Trick or Treat, Give me something good to eat."
It was the same thing every time and more creatures would line up behind them screaming similar words. The people inside their lodge would fill their satchels and the creatures would run into the night.
Suddenly the warrior became tense. He had never seen such a thing in his life. Somehow these creatures made him tremble for his life.
He saw more of those women; only they were a smaller breed. They all had that same protrusion hanging between their eyes. There were furry covered animals and there were men in black capes with very sharp teeth. Some of them said, "I've come to suck your blood".
There was no way his clan could wage war on this planet. The way these creatures moved together showed a sense of unity unparalleled to his planet. And the awful shrieking noise they made hurt his ear. He suddenly found himself walking in the shadows under the cover of darkness. He didn't want them to notice him. Again he heard the chanting as he passed by their lodges.
"Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet, Give me something Good to Eat!"
This was just unbelievable. They wanted food and it seemed as if you didn't abide with their demands you would have to smell their feet. He gagged as the thought occurred to him. They were all sick from disease or something. There were more creatures now. Tiny looking nymphs and angelic creatures. Robotic automatons. There were walking dead things. He would die before he smelled their feet.
"Trick or Treat!" The chanting came from the lodge behind him. He turned to look and he saw that more orange things lit up the night. They all seemed to have eyes that flickered. This was like a ceremony. There would be blood tonight. Lots and lots of blood.
The warrior was done scouting this particular pathway. He'd already seen hundreds of soldiers racing through the night and he wondered how many had already been forced to smell feet. He wondered what kind of gifts were thrown into the satchels to ward off these demonic looking creatures and how much blood had been spilled for not obeying.
"Trick or Treat!"
The warrior grabbed his ear and turned to see a small creature standing below him. It had little wings that came out of its back that appeared transparent.
"I'm a fairy." The creature said, in a quiet voice.
The warrior placed his hands over both his mouths and ran down the street snorting. His snout flung from side to side as he raced to the field where his ship was hidden. He didn't want to call attention to himself. He just wanted to leave.
There would be no battle here. They would look further.
Earth was a scary place.

By Beaux Kyle
© 2009

Back in the Game

2009-10-13T22:45:00.000-04:00

After months of anguish involving our insurance and a drug called Prograf, getting my adoption records opened and trying to register with my Native American Indian tribe, we have finally found some relief. It looks like we will be able to get our Prograf.
Our family started a journey a few months ago that has been both painful and heart-wrenching. We have gone down roads that I never expected I would ever have to travel on. Searching for my adoptive parents was one of them. This was something that I was not eager to do.
As most of you know, our insurance coverage changed when the economy went all crazy, and as a result the anti-rejection drug Prograf came off the table when the new plan went into effect. This backed us into a corner trying to figure out how we were going to be able to come up with the thousands of dollars a month to pay for this one drug alone that I will have to take for the rest of my life. We were told by the transplant center that there would be no transplant if we couldn't get aftercare drugs -- something our insurance plan originally covered.
This past week we were notified that our insurance will offer an option that will cover Prograf. The insurance will be expensive, but nothing compared to the cost of the drug without insurance. We were overwhelmed, to say the least. Over these past months we have been blessed to have so many people step forward to help out in whatever way they could. Some offered advice, some legal counsel, and some offered friendship. There were many prayers and many thoughtful wishes. Lois and the girls and I are thankful to everyone who has helped us along this journey.
While all of this has been going on, it has also opened up some questions about my adoption records. We have court records showing that I have two sets of names for my parents. How does that happen? Well, we aren't sure, so we are still going to try to figure out all that. It also suspends any hope of trying to get registered with the Indian tribe. We were asked by a representative of the tribe to get the original birth certificate so they could run it against their membership. We did that, but that individual never responded when we tried to contact her to let her know. Most of that problem can be attributed to just one person who doesn't seem to care about our request. Maybe we will have to talk to someone higher up in the tribal council or make a run to Arizona. One step at a time.
Again I have no words. We thank you all.
And YEA, Prograf!

NAME?

2009-10-08T23:24:00.006-04:00

I'm sorry, how long has school been back in session? August? And you still don't know my child's name?

We went to Parent-Teacher conference tonight and one teacher actually had the gall to say: NAME? And then ask: What period?

What's that all about Mr. S.S.O.B.? I saw your name written on the whiteboard right behind you 5 hours ago and I remember your name. It's S.S.O.B. I knew it before I even introduced myself to you.

Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, you have a classroom full of students that you have to become acquainted with, maybe several classrooms. Some of their names are probably even hard to pronounce. But in my defense, it has been a few weeks. And, YOU'RE. THE. TEACHER.
The only teacher, I might add, who had no clue as to who my daughter is. The other seven teachers learned her name.

Three months from now when we come up for our visit and you say: NAME? I just might grab you by your scrawny little neck and start squeezing.
That is all.

Terminal Velocity

2009-10-06T01:27:00.000-04:00

I was going to jump out of an airplane earlier this summer. I had some reservations at first, but then I finally decided that life was just too short. In a way it was kind of like my bucket list. I am jumping out of a plane.
I called my transplant coordinator to see if it would be all right. She e-mailed me and wrote back saying, "Are you crazy?"
At first I thought that meant NO, but then I saw the little smiley face she left and I thought: "All right. Here we go."
A week later I physically over-exerted myself and I was in a fair amount of pain that lasted three days. I weighed the outcome of what it was I wanted to do and I realized that I was probably being foolish. My bucket list would have to wait. I can't even put a band-aid on without it peeling off my skin when I remove it. I could just imagine how terminal velocity would reap havoc on my poor body. I quizzed three of my co-workers and my wife about their experience jumping out of a plane and they all said the same thing, "Yeah, I got jerked around a lot." and "I was sore for days."
Now being somewhat of an old dog, I got to thinking. I think I know my body pretty well right about now, and in dog days that means I would probably have to take a month off just to recuperate. Maybe even spend some time in the hospital after I had my organs removed from my chest cavity and I would most likely be nursing a broken leg after it snapped. The part that scared me the most was the thought of all the bruises I would have incurred from the harness as it threatened to rip me in half after I pulled the rip cord. This doesn't even begin to account for the 200 lb. instructor who probably uses me as a cushion to soften his landing.
So now that I've played this all out in my head, I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever jump out of a plane. Because it just sounds like so much fun.
Ask me after transplant.
What is the craziest thing you've ever done? Or have almost done?

O Happy Dagger

2009-10-01T00:59:00.002-04:00

The other day I came home from work after a 12 hour shift. It was Saturday and the girls and their friends were gathered around the T.V. set singing karaoke songs to the PS2 SingStar. It was just after 6:00 p.m. I don't have any idea how long they were there before I got home.
About an hour later they asked me if the neighbor girl could spend the night.
"I don't care," I said.
"Yes!" They shouted and ran away.
At 8:00 p.m. they were all still singing. Not smooth-flowing melodies either, but sharp raspy high-pitched shrieks that blended and merged into a cacophony of 30 songs sung at the same time. If I closed my eyes it almost sounded like Hawkwinds "Sonic Attack."
At 9:00 p.m. I glanced upstairs with a scowl on my face. Maybe worse. Maybe it was a look that resembled something like pain. Like I might have just hit my finger with a hammer.
At 10:00 p.m. I was ready to be put down. I now understood why dogs howled when they heard noises that they couldn't stand.
At 10:05 p.m. I told Lois I was dying. She laughed and said it didn't bother her. "They're just having fun."
"Dude, they've been singing for 4 hours. STRAIGHT!"
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.
At 10:30 p.m. Lois told the girls that it was time to stop.
I thought that I would cry.

Tonight the girls told me there wasn't any school tomorrow and they asked me if the neighbor girl could spend the night.
"I don't care." I said.
At 8:00 p.m. they started singing. I turned the T.V. up so I could hear what Lois and I were watching.
At 9:00 p.m. they were still singing. Again, I turned the T.V. up so Lois and I could hear what we were watching.
At 10:00 p.m. Lois shouted. "All right girls, that's enough. Find something else to do."

I need to learn how to do that.

--"O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust and let me die." Romeo and Juliet

Flu Shot

2009-09-22T13:56:00.005-04:00

Here we go for my Flu Shot.

I am very brave.

The nurse comments on how brave I am.

Lois drives me home.

And so it begins...

2009-09-10T22:23:00.002-04:00

My wife was telling me today that our oldest daughter has boy problems.

That's just great, I thought.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"She has three boys who like her." Lois said.

Of course there would have to be three. Not just one, or two, but three. Why shouldn't I have to worry in 3s.

"One of the boys asked her for her phone number," Lo said, "An eighth grader."

Ay-yi-yi!

Three seconds later:

"Did you hear what happened to your youngest daughter yesterday?" Lois asked.

"Uh...what?" I answered.

"An eighth grader asked her if he could be her boyfriend."

Holy Cow!!!

"Do you know what your daughter told him?"

"What?" I asked.

"They were standing out in front of the yard and she said, 'I don't know. Let's go inside and ask my dad if he thinks that's a good idea.' "

(YES! My sweet angel. Great answer.)

Kids are Something

2009-09-09T00:03:00.000-04:00

Lois and Alyson got new cell phones today. (Incidentally, if you are going river rafting, do not leave your cell phone in your pocket. Or your flash drive. Or your SD camera card. Or your car key fob.)

For the past hour or so Lois has been trying to get her ringer on her phone to work. I asked her if I could give it a try and then handed it back to her - unworking - 20 minutes later.

Alyson came through 5 minutes later and played with it for about a minute and now its working. Show Off.

This just in...

2009-09-07T00:51:00.001-04:00

This weekend our family is in Flaming Gorge for Labor Day.
We had originally planned on going for a drive so that Lois could look at a drilling rig.
Instead we went exploring inside of a dam, river rafting and hopefully we will go horseback riding tomorrow. It is very hard to tell what we'll do next.
More after we return.

Schoolduggery - Part II

2009-09-03T22:33:00.001-04:00

I've been reading about this for two weeks now. Child goes to school. Child leaves mom or dad at home. Mom or dad goes crazy and has a meltdown. Not a real full-blown meltdown, but more like "I miss my Billy!" or "I miss my Susie!" kind of meltdown.
I remember being a bit overwhelmed when Jeni went to kindergarten. It was, I suppose, a perfectly natural reaction. Standing on the playground with dozens of other parents, I realized that I was not alone. There were others who held that same wet gleam in their eyes as I did. It was, after all, that moment when most of us had to let go of our children for the very first time. Entrusting them with somebody else, even if it was only for a couple hours of the day.
I admit I shed some tears on that first day of school when we dropped off Jeni and I did it again when we dropped off Aly at pre-school. I don't recall doing it again after that, but I do remember a fair number of times when Lois and I dropped off the girls in those first couple of weeks and I gulped a lot as I watched them both start to cry as we headed for the doorway. Sometimes it seems like it was just the other day.

Fast forward 7 years.

Last week while Jeni was busy doing all her drawing in math class, she also managed to miss a class because her schedule was changed and nobody told her. That was something that worried her because she didn't want that becoming a part of her permanent school record. In her first 6 years of school she prided herself because she had only missed 3 days of school because she was sick. The idea of getting zapped on her attendance record for a mistake that the school made really bothered her. So Lois said that they would go in this past Monday and see what they could do to clear it up.
I wasn't there, but the way I heard it told was Jeni was absolutely embarrassed to show up at school with her mom. Outside, as they walked up to the school building, Jeni walked with head held down and two feet back and to the left. Noticing this, Lois stopped and asked Jeni if she was embarrassed to be seen with her mom.
"No." Jeni said. Although she stopped exactly two feet behind her mom.
Lois came home later that evening and told me, "My oldest daughter doesn't want her Mommy anymore."

This morning when we dropped the girls off at school I asked Jeni if I could walk her in. All I heard was a sharp "NO!" as she slammed the car door. I'm not sure who's having a meltdown, but I'm pretty sure it's not me.

Schoolduggery

2009-08-31T17:57:00.006-04:00

My daughter is upset with her new school because she has a problem with her math assignments. I guess in a small way I can't blame her, but at the same time I'm thinking to myself, "Maybe you should hold on to your hat there Turbo, and cut the teacher a little slack. Maybe the teacher is just getting a feel for the class and maybe in another month when the real assignments start coming out you'll have something to whine about. Maybe how about that, huh?"
I think it's probably something else though. I think now that she has finally moved on from elementary school and is in the 7th grade, she wants real 7th grade homework.

"Oh, you'll get your math, darling little daughter. I can already see it spewing out of your tiny little head."

Last year Jeni struggled with math. I think her problem is she tries too hard. I also think that the word problems are her hardest problems to solve. They are the ones that always set me back when I was in school. Problems like: A freight train leaves a station traveling at 30 mph. A passenger train leaves 1 hour later traveling at 50 mph. At what time will the passenger train overtake the freight train?

You may as well ask me something like this, "If I was walking through the forest with a canoe on my head and the wheels fell off, how many pancakes will it take to cover the dog house?" I. DON'T. KNOW!

Anyhow, her first assignment was to draw someone who was a mathematician. After giving this some thought she decided that she would draw an accountant. This is the picture that she drew.
The teacher informed her that she had done a nice job on her drawing, but then told her that she was taking points away because it didn't fit into her idea of what a mathematician should look like.
I looked at my wife and I asked her, "What does a mathematician look like?"
"Beats me," Lois said, "Nothing like an accountant, I guess."
I asked Jeni, "Did you tell her it was an accountant?"
"Uh, huh." Jeni said.
"Hmm?" I thought. "Well, you'll get your new math soon enough."

********************

The following day there was another home work assignment. Jeni was asked to draw herself doing math. "Really? More drawing? I already have an art class." Jenifer told us. And so this is her complaint: she is upset that she is having to draw in her algebra class.

********************

One Day Later.

There was no drawing. However, Jeni got in trouble because she neglected to follow her assignment rules. She was supposed to show her work and the teacher was mad because she didn't.
I have a feeling this is going to be a very long year. Personally I think she should draw every chance she gets because in another month I have a feeling that she's going to be having some real problems when she starts working on her algebra.

This is my drawing of a mathematician.

Photo's

2009-08-30T01:03:00.007-04:00

New Photos from Alyson. I saw a few pictures the other day that were quite good but I can't find them. There are two shots here that were taken with the zoom lens fully extended. I think she did a good job on holding the camera steady. They are the Bald Eagle and the Wolf.

Oriole

Red Finch

Another Red Finch

Wolf in Yellowstone. We were a long ways away.

Caterpillars

Bald Eagle in Yellowstone.

I have no idea how she got this shot.

Déjà vu

2009-08-24T01:43:00.009-04:00

Remember that time I had my adoption records opened? Chirping birds flew in my window and they started singing that Tra-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la song. Outside the heavens opened up and bright sun beams shined down all over the planet. I remained composed of course, because I was somewhat busy being shell-shocked by an event that took some 43 years to transpire. But I took some comfort in it all because my waiting on this information was also consequential to the fact that my very life depended on it. I was hoping -- praying -- that I would be able to use this information to help me enroll in my Indian tribe. Because, you see, that's what it was all about to begin with -- getting enrolled.
That first week while Lois and the girls and I took time to process this all, we realized that we still didn't have my original birth certificate and so we set about to take care of this. I should actually say that Lois did, and through much effort, frustrating phone calls and a lot of determination, the bridge was hurdled. On Monday last, Lois Fed Exed the certified court order the judge issued and they sent us a copy of my original birth certificate back by the end of the week.
On Friday morning Lois called me at work and said, "I got it!" For the second time within a couple of months the heavens parted and the birds sang. I held my breath as Lois spoke to me. The first thing she said was that there was something weird about it all.
"What's that mean?" I thought to myself.
And before I could ask her she said, "The name's on your birth certificate don't match the names on your adoption records."
"What names?" I asked.
"All of them!" she said. "They're all different except for yours. Your name is the only one that is the same."

(insert Perry Mason music here) "WTH?"

After another month of waiting for a name that would tie me to the tribe, everything changed. The names of both of my birth parents in my adoption records didn't match my parents' name on my birth certificate. The only name that was the same was my father's last name; but not his first. And my mom's name was entirely different, though slightly similar. She wasn't a minor as was reported in the adoption records. She was almost 30.
I cannot imagine how any of this is possible. What happened all those years ago? As I try to wrap my head around the thought that this could be a clerical error, all I see is stars; blinding flashes of light that make me blind. How could any of this have happened? The only thing that makes any sense to me is the fact that my mom signed her name on the birth certificate.
So why doesn't her name match on the adoption records?

(to be continued)

If You Build It, Will They Come?

2009-08-21T22:15:00.000-04:00

Now this is flying Stand By

'Hood ornament

2009-08-21T01:40:00.004-04:00

Dear Gene,

It bothers me to write this letter because I feel somewhat responsible for what I have to say. You see, the problem is your car has been parked in front of our house for over a month.
Now I know we said that you could park it there until you got things figured out, but I kind of thought you'd come by over that first weekend with one of your buddies and haul it away. I didn't realize you would be leaving it for this long. I didn't realize that when you said it was a piece of junk and you were just going to get rid of it that you would be doing it here.
Because, honestly, I already have enough junk. I don't need any more.
I really don't have a problem with you abandoning your car. It's your car and you can do that if you want, but just not here; in front of our house. So I was thinking that maybe, and this is just me thinking out loud, maybe you should take it home and think about selling it. Perhaps you could get it running long enough and then maybe take advantage of the Cash for Clunkers deal they got going on? What do you think about that, Gene?
The reason I bring this up is because the Cash for Clunkers program is ending very soon, like on Monday I think? And if you act now maybe you can turn this thing around and make a little money or something. That gives you 4 days, Gene. And I know your car runs. We drove it to my house after we got it running when we found you stalled on the freeway off-ramp. I remember because I was sitting right next to you. And I had told you beforehand after you had broken down that we would be happy to let you park it at our house so that you could get it off the street and avoid having it towed away. But that was before I understood that you were just going to leave it here permanently, like some unsightly yard decoration, Gene.
If I knew then what I know now I would have said something like, "Lets drive her down to the supermarket and park it in the parking lot." But for some reason, I didn't think of that.

"Uh, Where Are My Clothes?"

2009-08-17T01:20:00.008-04:00

A little while back when we moved the oldest daughter downstairs into her new bedroom the whole house began to change. We decided that while we were moving things around we would take the time to pull out the carpet in the master bedroom so that we could lay down some hardwood floor. The whole second floor has been a mess ever since. Dressers and armoires and chest trunks were pushed into corners of the youngest daughter's bedroom for a brief period of just a little while until we could get things under control. We packed everything into dozens of unlabeled boxes so that we could move stuff around much easier and then shoved them into every available corner we could find.
The youngest has been quite pleased with this. All of this moving around has given her the opportunity to camp out on various couches and air matresses and basically spend her summer time having one big slumber party. And so, for the past two months she has mostly settled in with her sister downstairs in the lower regions of the house, and it has seemed as though this was enough.
But then I caught the tail end of a conversation the other day and my heart sank.
I aaaaammm a lousy parent. My wife had inquired why Aly had been wearing the same shirt for two days straight and how filthy it was. We are used to this from our youngest daughter. It is one of those traits that she was born with and will hopefully outgrow. She can put on clean clothes and a minute later they are dirty. I don't know how. But then I heard my daughter's reason. And I felt absolutely awful. Upstairs, in the room packed with dressers and trunks and boxes and bed frames and mattresses was her dresser, tucked neatly in the furthest corner of the bedroom. With all of her clothes. Our daughter has been keeping herself groomed and in clothes by washing laundry for herself for the past two months. Whenever we ask the girls to run a load of laundry while we're at work, Aly has been clever enough to make sure she had clothes for herself.
Today I unburied her dresser and made it accessible. I'm pretty sure tomorrow I am going to have to figure out a way to get her room back now that school's about to begin.

Gone Fishing...

2009-08-04T13:46:00.002-04:00

The New Trash Jewelry

2009-07-25T10:49:00.015-04:00

A couple of years ago our oldest daughter had a wrist band placed around her wrist at the Hot Rocking 4th of July festival. Little did we know at the time that it was the first of many more to come. We celebrated the 4th and then we went on home. Sometime later; maybe in September and quite possibly October, we heard her let out a shrill shriek and the whimpering sound of "NNNOOOOOoooo."

"What?" I asked her.

"My BAND!" She cried.

"Your what?"

"MY BAND!" She whimpered again.

"Okay." I said, pointing two fingers at my eyes and then her eyes and then back at my eyes. And willing her to focus I said, "What are you talking about?"

"My wristband from the 4th of July. It broke."

She held up a thin piece of string that somewhat resemble the nylon cord that gets wrapped around a bale of hay. Only this was gray and stringy and gray. As I got a better look at it, I could tell it was actually just a piece of trash. Inside my head I was doing the math and asking myself questions. That was like three months ago I thought. My daughter has been wearing trash on her hand for almost three months now. How did I miss seeing that? And what was that other thing on her wrist? Is that more trash!

"Dude," I pointed at her hand, "What's on your wrist?"

"That's from roller skating." She replied with a smile.

"Why are you wearing this...this...this stuff on your hand?"

"It's cool." She informed me.

Immediately we went head to head about taking off the trash, but she informed me that these unique pieces of string were getting washed everyday. She took very good care of them and they were washed every time she took a bath. The only thing I could think of was what if she cut her wrist somehow. She could get gangrene from these things.

And then finally she said, "Mom, knows."

I then looked at her mom and shook my head. Holding both of my hands out in front of me palms up, I gave her a gesture that said, "WTH?"

"Yeah," Mom said, "About that...she has been washing them."

Even her school teachers were aware of her newly found jewelry. Sometime this past year her music teacher asked her what she was wearing. Jenifer just held up her hand and showed her the different bands that she had on. Her teacher asked, "Is this like...something religious?"

"Uhh...sure." Jeni offered, and then walked away.

I think the only religious thing about them is she never takes them off.

I Miss You

2009-07-24T15:37:00.008-04:00

This is the weekend. The one that haunts me. For four years now I have done this dance.
I jokingly asked you when you left the building if you were coming back.
"I don't know." or "Maybe." was your reply.
It seemed as though I could no more tell than you could -- the way you looked down at your feet -- as you stared out into the...
...the what? The distance? The Past and Future present?
You had no more walked out the door when I called Lois.
"Something's wrong!" I said.
"Call her." she replied.
Minutes later worked consumed me.
I got busy. I forgot.

When I got off work I finally remembered. I made the call. No answer. I left a message.
"L. It's me. You kind of scared me when you left the building. Are you doing alright? Call me."
It was the first message of three that I would leave you. Each one more panicked than the last.
I always wondered what they heard when they went through your phone messages later. When your father hit play messages. When your kids passed the phone back and forth.
Somebody would have recognized my fear and then said, "He knew."

It was a very long weekend. Every time I called you it went straight to voice mail and I resolved to tell myself you just went out of town, you were out with your friends, everything was all right. Everything was all right.

I called work on Tuesday night. "R., it's Beaux. I have a question."
"Shoot." R. said.
"Do you know if L. ever came to work today?"
There was a long pause. Too long. I almost dropped the phone.
"Oh Beaux! You haven't heard yet have you?"
R. couldn't speak anymore.
"She's not coming back is she." I half asked.
"No." R. said, "She's not coming back."

Later I started to remember. You had been giving your things away. You gave one of your kids your telescope. Your most prized possession. You had mentioned other things that you had given the children. Your bike. Why did I not see that? My intuition has always been very strong. I should have found you four years ago. I should have hunted you down.
But they say it was too late. Everything happened early on. And even if I had found you. Even if I could have stopped you. It may have only been for that day. Or maybe a week. Maybe even a year. But you would have eventually chose the path you were on. I think the world had already driven you to this end. Your pain, your sadness, your body. They had all said enough.
It was on this day 4 years ago when you walked out that door. I still remember your half smile. Your voice when you said, "I might come back."
It was your voice that made me look up from what I was doing.
It was your voice that made me call Lois.
I wish I had walked out that door with you.
I wish I had trusted my instinct.
I wish I had held your hand and said don't do this.

I miss you.

Roller Babies

2009-07-22T22:41:00.005-04:00

This is cute.

A Moving Story

2009-07-18T19:50:00.007-04:00

If you haven't already heard of 5 year old Kate McRae then you should visit Maggie May's blog at Flux Capacitor or stop by Here or just visit the internets to find other stories about this young girl.
About three weeks ago Kate McRae had a tremor in her right hand and was taken to Phoenix Children's Hospital for a CT scan. Holly McRae; Kates mother, soon learned that Kate had a massive brain tumor the size of an egg and that she needed surgery. Holly called her husband Aaron shortly after that and the whole families nightmare slowly started to unfold.
You can read more of Holly and Aaron's journal pages at carebridge.org.

Open Letter to Alyson on Her Birthday.

2009-07-13T23:54:00.005-04:00

My Dearest Alyson,

Now that you have your own Kodak camera, I hope that you are ready to part with mine. Please make sure that you wipe your grimy fingerprints off of it and carefully return it to its rightful place and owner (me). And please don't break your new camera, (because we didn't buy the extended warranty). I'm not really sure why; because you're only eleven.

With this in mind: Happy Birthday Sweetheart.

I can't believe that you are starting out a whole new decade on planet earth. I sometimes had my doubts that you would make it this far, but I will explain all this to you in another decade.

I want you to know that I love you very much. You are a wonderful daughter and a sweet blessing. You have such a kind heart and so much compassion for everyone. Animals just love you. You are like the zoo whisperer. If I ever end up in a lion's den I would want you to be there with me (I am not joking). If I ever go on safari, I want you with me. You have such compassion for others but I wish you would stop watching the news. It breaks my heart when I see your face when there is something bad on (which is all the time) because your empathy for others is just so powerful. But your kindness is extraordinary. I've seen you cry for strangers because their plight in life has affected you so much. Sometimes I think you're a very old soul in a very little body. I love that when you go to bed you try very hard to include everyone in your prayers, but sometimes I'm pretty sure you're just pushing to stay up late when you start talking about the tree that fell over or the bug that got squashed.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart. And please consider this your birthday card because I forgot to buy you one.

Love, Daddy.

I know my name, but who am I?

2009-07-08T21:09:00.004-04:00

I grew up in the likes of a Buddhist ashram chanting Hari Chrisna. It is perhaps my most memorable memory from childhood. I was raised by a group of burned out hippies who knew and followed Timothy Leary through the '60s. I was reading books like the 'Bhagavad Gita' and 'Be Here Now', the former written from ancient text, while the latter had barely come out in print. Those books meant nothing to me then, but I would read them again a dozen years later so as to understand them. Here I would learn about Arjuna's journey towards battle and his talks with Krishna, and follow the antics of the good doctors tales. I spent my mornings watering flower gardens, tending a gold fish pond and grooming foot trails that led from one building to another. There were round adobe-like yurts and small buildings spread out across a few acres of land on a thousand acre ranch in the Arizona desert. My hair was down to my butt and I had the nickname Snake. I was also a ward of the State.
When I was 11 years old I ran away from home and I ended up living in a group home in the Sonoran Desert near the base of the Rincon Mountains. I lived there with dozens of people. We were men and women, and boys and girls. And we were all there for different reasons. Some of us were sent there, while others just came. We were lost souls and runaways. We were bullies and thieves. And we were disheartened victims of abuse. In 1973 I was a runaway. For almost two and a half years I lived this life, and then one day I walked away. Everything I learned; everything I believed, it all happened here.
Early on as children we are marked by scars and injuries both mental and physical that we carry into the future. They are the wounds that link our past to present; uniting infancy with age. They bear witness to the people we become and are a testament to the lives we lead. It is rare to go through life without them.
At night we would gather in the dining hall. Wood carved tables and chairs filled the room. The walls were made of stone and cement at least one foot thick. A large round open-faced fireplace was in the center of the room for those cold winter nights. I still remember the smell of mesquite wood burning. They built that place two years before I came. In the summer the students and teachers united, and months of work followed. Boulders of river rock had to be moved into place. Eight foot sections of railroad ties were stood upright and were the supporting structure for the walls. Layers of cement and river rock were poured in between them. Inside giant timbers ran across the ceiling locking out the light of day. I do not know how long it took them, but I can imagine the months of pain. I can almost feel their blisters and certainly there is blood inside those walls. These people left other things as well. Small relics as reminders. On one wall you will see a handful of marbles embedded in the cement in an intricate design. There are names in the cement floor and you will see a peace sign next to an Anhk. There are green and purple glass insulators protruding out of the walls here and there for coat hangers. Burned into the wood you will see symbols such as the Yin and Yang, more peace signs and the Hindu Om sign of Absolute.
Inside there was a corner library. Bookshelves lined the walls. Over the next two years I would read most of them: Carlos Castaneda, William Goldman, Kurt Vonnegut and Wilson Rawls. There are titles I can’t even remember and titles I can: The Catcher and the Rye; Mister God, this is Anna; and Gibran’s Prophet. Sitting there at night I would read line after line and verse after verse. I was particularily enamored with Castaneda's story 'The Yaqui Way of Knowledge' because I am a Yaqui Indian. This story was unique to me because in its own way it tied me to a heritage I knew nothing about. I eventually outgrew my fascination with Castaneda. Don Juan was a little too colorful of a character for me and so I stuck a little closer to home.
My parents and I never spent much time living together, sometimes I think it was act of preservation. But the fact is they were my parents, and the only parents I ever knew. When my mom died a few years ago I remember that feeling of loneliness. I remember thinking that I was all alone and that I was an orphan. I have felt that way from time to time ever since her passing. And I have always felt like I was the last of my line save for my children. All of that changed today. Today we finally received my adoption records. I don't think I've ever felt this way before. Today I have a name for both of my birth parents. I think I'm going to have to let that sink in for a while.

The Angelina Interview

2009-07-04T01:06:00.004-04:00

(Sometime during the hour of 11:00 a.m. and 12:00 p.m.; January 2002)

When my wife first told me that she might interview Angelina Jolie, I think my jaw dropped. And if it had been summerime, I think I probably would have swallowed some flies. My wife looked at me and said, "You want to meet her, don't you?"

"YES!" I blurted. Actually "YES!" is the tamer version. I'm pretty sure I said something totally different. But then the hammer fell and she chuckled, "Yeah, well that's not going to happen."

Wiping something that resembled spittle from my face, I looked at her. Why would she do that? Oh yeah...because she can. I carefully composed myself and I think I was primping (just a little). The vanity mirror in the car was down and I was looking at myself. So yes, I was probably primping.

Me: “So...(very nonchalantly)...what's up?”

Wife: “I might be interviewing her."

Me: “Man your job really sucks. How awful would that be.” ( I LOVE THIS JOB OF YOURS!)

Wife: “Excuse me?”

Me: “I said, your job really sucks.”

Wife: “Hmm. Yes, well. (She stops and stares at me.) There's a big conference coming up with Wayne Gretzky, Angelina, and the governor. It's for the Olympics.”

Me: “Hey, I know the governor. Mr. Leavitt’s a fine man.”

Wife: "You don't know the governor. You've only met him. Twice at best.”

Me: "Yeah. Well that's more than all those other people who have met him once."

Wife: "You can't go anyway. You work Saturdays.”

Me: “Hey! Just because I work on Saturdays doesn't mean I can't take them off, (I think) maybe.”

Wife: “Well, anyway...I'm not sure I'm going to do it.”

Me: “Dude! That's Wayne Gretzky you’re talking about. You'll want to do that interview. You should take my camera, too. And take lots of pictures. Of everyone. That's there.”

Wife: “You’re a weirdo. You just want pictures of Angelina.”

Me: “ It's the Olympics man. We should be taking lots of pictures. Of Everyone.”

Wife: “Whatever.”

(Months later)

Me: “Dude, whatever happened to your Angelina interview?”

Wife: “My what?”

Me: “Your Angelina interview?”

Wife: “Who?”

Me: “Angelina Jolie...and, and, and...that other guy. That sports guy. The ice rink guy.”

Wife: “Wayne Gretzky?”

Me: “Yeah, exactly. Whatever happened to that?”

Wife: “It never happened. I was too busy.”

Me: “Dude, you were going to take pictures!”

Wife: “You’re a WEIRDO! And QUIT calling me DUDE!”

I never did get to meet Angelina Jolie because it turns out I work on Saturdays and nobody wants to work for me on Saturdays. They like their Saturdays. And my wife never got to meet her, either, because her work took her somewhere else that saturday also, (OOH...burn) and somebody else got the interview. I never meet anyone.

Birds Eye View

2009-06-17T01:17:00.006-04:00

Alyson has come to be quite the little bird photographer. Here she is sitting quietly on the side of the house with a pair of binoculars, her new cell phone (with the ringtone set to play "A Time to Love") and my camera. Which she was kind enough to let me borrow to take this shot. We sat out here on this bench for an hour or so and we probably saw hundreds of birds every 15 minutes. I wanted to pour cement on this side of the house so that we could park the camper and the truck and the boat we don't have. It turned out that my wife's idea of planting just a couple of things until we were ready really wasn't such a bad idea.
Please leave plenty of nice comments because Alyson will be reading them later.

mY e-MaiL aCcOunT Is WeiRd

2009-06-16T12:39:00.007-04:00

I have had the same e-mail account for years. A few months ago my wife noticed that my blogging name Something Happened Somewhere Turning was coming across on all my e-mail messages. That it is my blog post name. I like that name. FOR BLOGGING! I mean if I e-mail a friend of mine and they are seeing the title Something Happened Somewhere Turning instead of my name then they will either delete it thinking they are being spammed or their account will spam it automatically.

Well the other day I set up a Gmail account because I wanted to have some mail sent to a different address other than my regular account so that I could keep track of it easy enough. I then thought that I could also use it for blog corresponding and it would be a nice way to keep everything in a neat little package and maybe the ghost in the machine would take over my Gmail account and recognize me as Something Happened Somewhere Turning over there. So I changed my e-mail on my blog pages to Gmail and I figured now I'll just sit back and watch to see what happens.

So this morning while I was leaving a comment on somebody's blog (I hadn't logged in yet). I was typing in my regular e-mail address -- the one I used to open up my blog account -- and I received an error message that said I needed to login using my Comcast address or my Gmail account before I could continue.

Dude -- That's Exactly What I Was Doing!

A Baby No More

2009-06-09T21:40:00.004-04:00

Several years ago Lois and I built a house in a newer subdivision. We were living in a small red brick bungalow located about 10 minutes from where Lois worked downtown. Jenifer was only a few months old when we decided we had to move someplace different. In fact, Jenifer had just had heart surgery when she was 11 months old and we had barely moved into the new house. This house. It was somewhere in that time frame when she learned how to walk. She came home after her surgery and we couldn't keep her down. She was insistent that she was going to climb stairs and that was all there was to it. And so, we put up gates. There are still holes in the walls in the family room.
It seemed like a few weeks later I was taking her to kindergarden. I still have vague memories of those trips that first year. I remember the mornings when Lois and I would sometimes drop her off together and Lois would kiss her goodbye and as we left Jeni would follow her back out the door. And how she looked so sad as we explained we had to go. Wet-eyed, but not really crying, she would go stand with her teacher and eventually her new friends.
Today, seven years later, she didn't want to stand by her teacher (or her parents). She wanted to run around school with her friends and say goodbye to everyone.
As the Grade School Class of 09 ran through the halls, it was something of a big event. Jeni was one of the first wave to attend this newly built school. Today, many of those same children who walked into that school seven years ago to attend kindergarden, all walked out together for perhaps their last time. New schools and seventh grade awaits. Graduating from 6th grade to 7th doesn't seem like a big deal. But for the school it was kind of a milestone. The first children to attend were now leaving and the school played it up that way. Somewhere between the award certificates, the student recitals and the attendance trophies I got a little teary-eyed. I leaned over and mumbled to Lois how we just dropped her off here for kindergarden the other day.
They say that time flies. That in a minute tomorrow's gone. That in a blink of an eye you have memories. Today I got to see a little of that.
Congratulations, Jenifer!

I'm just saying...

2009-06-07T22:16:00.012-04:00

Rocky Mountain News

Saturday, April 23, 1859 - Friday, February 27, 2009

I was thinking the other day that there is something wistful about picking up an old newspaper and getting print on your finger tips. Years ago when I used to run 2,000 pound rolls to the printing presses and waited for alarm bells to ring between roll changes, I would sit at my station and read fresh copy hot off the press and catch the daily news before it had even hit the street. I would start out reading the business section; move on to the local section, and avoid the obits because I didn't know anyone in town. I would always end up finishing the crossword puzzle. What I didn't read ~~very often~~ was the classifieds. They were always just there. I shuffled them to the bottom of the pile. I didn't really need the classifieds; I pretty much had everything I ever needed or wanted. I know...I know... Everything you ever needed? How is that possible? Well it's true. In fact, when my wife and I married we had everyone write checks to either Sub for Santa or Christmas in April and throw them into a wishing well. We donated it all. But back on track...
I think I've always had printing in my blood. Before I ever ran rolls to the printing presses I spent time working for a small time newspaper in Idaho several years earlier. My best friend Tina, and her husband used to work for the oldest newspaper in Idaho. It was a weekly publication that got put to bed every Tuesday night and then we would drive it over the mountain to have it printed so that we could deliver it across the county on Wednesday.
At first I would wander in every Tuesday night to visit. But then I was starting to get simple instructions like "Grab that brush out of that bowl of hot wax and run it down that column right there in the middle. Now take that strip of font right there and paste it down all nice and even." Later I would begin to typeset. It never occurred to me that years later I would end up in the printing business. I never thought that I would find myself dipped into ink up to my elbows or that I would crawl inside a three story press using my body as a giant sponge to clean the thing. One day I told myself that I needed to do this job but without the monkey suit or apron. I wanted something cleaner. And so came the days when I started stripping four-color film and the only ink I got on me was from my Papermate or Sharpie when I missed putting the cover cap on. I started working for the shop I'm in now and I burned plates and bluelines all day long. But even that had started to get to me. So wherever there was a ladder I would climb it. Eventually our mom and pop shop changed along with most of the rest of the world. We went digital.
This new process has done a lot for the industry. We used to joke about how one day our jobs might be in jeorpardy. The old printing presses are slowly being dismantled and sold for scrap metal while the new automated presses are getting replaced by newer models just to keep up with the times. We used to joke about how my department could eventually disappear completely. The files that are sent to my department are inspected one last time for quality control and then queued up so that plates can be made and sent out to the presses. Eventually the newer presses will be able to read digital files and the plates will be sent directly to the presses, cutting out a whole department. I hope that doesn't happen at my shop.
The economic downsizing of jobs across the country have me thinking about my place in the work force. In our city I have seen many printing shops go out of business. The demand is no longer there. Customers have cut back on the quality of paper they are using. Gas has taken an enormous effect on paper delivery, and shipping and handling. Ad revenues and page content have decreased in size in both magazines and newspapers. I miss the good old days when you could count on opening up the Sunday newspaper and its contents would spill out onto the couch and floor. There was no expense saved for the pile of print that you paid extra for because the ads were flourishing.
It is sad to see that an industry once so powerfully an institution is slowly disappearing with the roll of a stone. And it is simple to look at. If there are no revenues there is no money. If there is no money there are no jobs. If there are no jobs there is no staff. If there isn't a staff then lock the doors.

Am I wrong for not wanting to stand by my wife?

2009-06-03T23:19:00.004-04:00

And let me just say here that I'm not talking about the time when she got cut off in the parking lot and rolled down her window to give Mr. Big As A Mountain an earful. I wasn't very comfortable with that, seeing how he had at least an extra sixty pounds on him and he looked like a boxer and when he got out of his rig and did a shrug that resembled Do You Want Some of this Boy? I'm not talking about that.
Before I go on, let me back up to yesterday.
Inside the store we were in before the thunderstorm, we wandered around doing various things. We were getting close to finishing up when I decided to go downstairs and look for something else I had been wanting. Lois got in the elevator and pushed the button and SNAP! She was zapped by some static electricity and she screamed "OUCH." We separated briefly when we reached the other floor and I looked over to where she was standing just as she reached down to grab something to show me and SNAP, more static electricity. I watched her face grimace as she muttered something under her breath and shook her fingers. Now you have to know my wife to understand that this is a common phenomenon that plagues her. But yesterday she was definitely carrying a strong load of current around with her. I blame it on the wool sweaters she wears. When we got back in the elevator she pushed the button and SNAP. By this time I was starting to feel sorry for her.
So fast forward. I am standing by the glass doors while Lois is paying the cashier and the rain is falling in buckets. I jokingly go back to her and say that I think it's time that she takes one for the team; suggesting she make a run for the car and then swing up and grab me. And we suddenly have the same thought. I'm thinking to myself: Dude, you've got current running through you. I'm not walking out those doors standing next to you. While she is saying to herself: You're going to let me go out there alone.
So...Am I wrong for not wanting to stand by my wife?
We wheeled the cart to the door and stood there gathering the couple of sacks we had and looked outside. Lois looked at me and said, "I'll go get the car."
As nice as that sounded I couldn't let her go out there alone. I told her I was going with her. And so, like Butch Cassidy and Sundance we opened the doors and ran. My eyes watching the sky the whole time.

The Perfect Shot

2009-06-03T02:25:00.009-04:00

Lois and the girls and I have a number of cameras. We didn't always use them, though, until we went on vacation. It wasn't until my aunt from Boston sent us a bird feeder a couple of years ago that I really got inspired and started snapping bird shots. Now we have dozens of bird houses and bird feeders in our yard and if you're driving down the street it kind of looks like you're going by an aviary when you pass our house. I try to take my Kodak Easy Share DX7590 almost everywhere I go, but sometimes I forget and then I kick myself in the rear when I see a shot.
Like tonight. Tonight there was a beautiful landscape shot over the Great Salt Lake and brilliant rays of sunlight broke through the brooding thunderclouds. We just happened to be up on the bench overlooking the valley and were leaving the hospital when I noticed how breathtaking it was. I don't know why I forgot my camera. Without failure, everytime we are up at the University of Utah and leave the hospital, there is always a shot.

This evening you could see pure blue skies toward the south and dark ominous clouds in the north. Sheets of rain fell between them out west and the sunlight sparkled off of them as they moved toward the city. About 40 minutes later I could hear the sound of thunder crashing outside over the store we had stopped at. I anxiously told Lois we had to hurry. "I know." She said. When we got up to the register we looked around for the clerk but didn't spot her right away. She was standing outside watching buckets of rain come down as lightning flashed all over. Doh! Camera! Again! I mumbled to myself.

After thinking about it later I realized I need to take some different pictures. The birds have gotten old. I try to catch the bees and the butterflies, but I hardly ever see butterflies. They are so rare. So I got online and I found myself looking for butterflies. When I was in Boise a couple of years ago there was a butterfly exhibit at the local zoo and I was thinking I should go back. But after looking at the website it looks as though the exhibit will be closing down this year and moving. The next place I found that had a butterfly exhibit is at the Birmingham Zoo. It is housed inside a 3,000 square foot exhibit and claims to have hundreds of butterflies and twenty different species. That would be awesome. But it is a very long way to go to see a butterfly. I think I better shoot for something closer to home. Maybe I'll just have to go back to Yellowstone and find another bear.

On an afternote: In order to raise revenues, the federal government is offering 3 free weekends this summer for National Park admissions in most areas. It may be a nice way to take advantage and visit your national parks.

Tempus Fugit

2009-06-01T19:39:00.004-04:00

We saw Up this weekend. The girls loved it. I found it equally entertaining. I think Pixar's animation continues to get better and better and the story was fun. While we were there, they teased the new Toy Story III. I remember thinking to myself that Toy Story was Jeni's first movie. Man, time flies. Go see Up ... guaranteed to put a smile on everyone's face.

Twenty-4

2009-05-29T21:22:00.002-04:00

(annoying mind numbing digital synthesized clock sound)

"Dammit Zoey, hurry up! I need that damn code! If we don't stop this bomb the whole eastern seaboard is going to vanish."

"Quit yelling, Zack. I'm doing all that I can. Just hold your damn horses."

"I'm sorry, Zoey, it's just this job. I've only got twenty-4 hours to stop this all and every second counts."

"Save it, Zack!" Zoey scoffs.

(uncomfortable silence)

"I'm sending you the 24-digit code now, Zack. But remember, as soon as you gain access to the hyper-chamber you only have 24 seconds to disconnect the 24 lead wires before that room starts to fill with chlorine gas."

"Is there anything else, Zoey?"

(more uncomfortable silence)

"Zack, there's something I haven't told you."

"I know, Zoey. You hope that I'm going to be okay and that we all make it through this alive."

"No, Zack. That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that once you go into that room, then you're on your own. I won't be able to help you any more. The com will go down and you'll be on your own. And one other thing, Zack. Each of those 24 wires have to be disconnected in an exact order or the bomb will bypass all the safeguards and go off anyway."

"Dammit Zoey, when were you going to tell me all this?"

"I'm telling you now, Zack. Oh just...just never mind."

(Com goes silent)

Zack Bower quickly punches in the 24-digit code and waits for the airlock to open. He is just starting to count one-Mississippi; two-Mississippi in his head when he hears a cacophony of gunfire in the room behind him. Wasting no time, he jumps into the hyper-chamber. He quickly reaches into his duffel bag and pulled out a small screwdriver to open up a small panel that houses the 24 lead wires and then realizes that he is running out of time. "There's No Time!" he screams. Tears roll off his cheeks as he tries desperately to disconnect all the wires. No longer able to concentrate, he starts randomly tearing wires out; hoping that nothing bad will happen. Suddenly there is a high-pitched noise and a brilliant white flash...

Zack wakes up to the sound of crashing water and pure blue skies. He is lying on his back and the sun is beating down on him. He is trying to figure out where he is when he hears a voice behind him.

"Dude, are you all right?" a very very large man asks.

Zack jumps up and does a somersault and takes the very, very large man down.

"Dude, what are you doing? Quit throwing sand in my face."

"Who are you?" Zack screams.

"I'm Zurley. Dude get off of me!"

"Where am I?" Zack asks.

"You're on the Island. And we're trying to get off."

Zack turns around to see who the voice is behind him. They all hold guns in their hands. "Who are you people?"

"I'm Zate," the woman says. "That's Zohn Lock and Zayid over there, and this is Zawyer, Zun and Zin. You've met Zurley. And that's Zack."

"My name's Zack, too. Look I don't who you people are, but I've got to get off this Island. I got to go Back!"

"All in good time, Zack. All in good time." A little man says.

"Who are you?" Bower asks.

"Well, my name is Zen, and I'm driving this car."

(annoying mind numbing digital synthesized clock sound)

The Soldier

2009-05-26T23:24:00.002-04:00

Almost 13 years ago, I stood between rows of white granite and marble gravestones that ran in perfect lines over rolling valleys. I was at Jefferson Barracks Cemetery in St. Louis, Missouri. My wife and I had just gotten married in Vegas on Memorial Day weekend and now we were there to bury my father.
I did not know my father very well. When I left home I was 11 years old and the years before that are somewhat hazy. My father had been on active duty in those earlier years. He was stationed in Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and eventually came home after he and his brother got in a car accident while he was on furlough one weekend.
When my father recovered, he still continued to work as retired military at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona, where we grew up. I do not know what his full detail duty was, but he always said that he was a warehouse man. Whatever his duties were, he was in charge of everything at his post and the people who worked for him admired and respected him. That was clear to us growing up as he had many friends visiting over the years.
My mom would tell me years later that he was a big shot when he was in the service. He had a Purple Heart and a Bronze Medal. He had saved lives.
The other day I found a letter from one of my dad's best friends when I was growing up. At the end there was a P.S.: "Your Dad had an influence on all who knew him for he had mastered the communications with the rank-and-file people. He was also the truest American hero if you really knew his record. Not many made it through what he did and the trips he took while serving his country."
I do not know my father in this way. He was a different man at home. Quiet and reserved — and sometimes very harsh.
I do not know why he had a Purple Heart or a Bronze Medal. I had never heard about it until he had passed away and my mother never spoke of things like this. She told Lois one day while we were standing in her bedroom and she never explained. Later she said that she would tell us about it on another day. That never happened. It is another of many unanswered questions I have.
I don't know much about my father. I know he left home when he was 16 and joined the army. He lied about his age and they accepted him into the U.S. military. It was his life and he loved it. He served in the Korean war and Viet Nam. He met my mom in Germany and married her there. When they were getting ready to catch the boat to the states my mom and dad split up to finish some last-minute things. He had to take care of some paperwork and she went and did something else. She came back and she had missed the boat. They united three months later. She joked that she never missed anything after that.
Without ever really knowing this man, I can say that he was indeed a true patriot. He was born to be a soldier and countryman. He lived his whole life this way. In this regard I had the most utmost respect for him. When my mom died in 2002 we returned to this military cemetery and her ashes were buried next to his. It was in April and we stood under an awning as it rained. My two heroes laid to rest for eternity.

I had to work on my anniversary yesterday and Memorial Day kind of slid right past me. If I had posted, this is what I would have said.

A Day at the Movies

2009-05-24T23:41:00.000-04:00

When I was growing up, I absolutely loved science fiction on T.V. The first thing I ever watched was Lost in Space and Star Trek. There were other programs that I waited for every week. The Green Hornet, The Twilight Zone, Batman and The Outer Limits. There were dozens of shows that caught my eye and I looked forward to seeing them each week. Some 40 years later, nothing has changed, except perhaps for the names of the programs. Nowadays I wait for Fringe, Lost and the Terminator. And then there is the movie theater .... I love going to the movies.
Today the girls and I went to see the new Star Trek movie. As the first few minutes played out I could see where it was going. I suddenly remember Captain James T. Kirk's predecessor Captain Pike. I could remember the wheelchair. This rekindled old memories. Of course Pike would be in this movie. This was how it all started.
I wanted to laugh and cry as a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I wanted to share all the things I could remember about the story with my girls but it would have meant nothing to them. The old Star Trek episodes were nothing but old celluloid film in metal canisters. And as the movie introduced its familiar characters I smiled as I thought about the countless episodes I used to watch. I kept looking over at the girls to say something, and then I would remember. They would have no idea what I was talking about. And so I watched. Smiling, laughing, and yes...there were a couple of gulps and tears.
Thank you J.J. Abrams, boycotting Christian Bale was the smartest thing I did today.

What The ?? (Here we just give our children milk)

2009-05-22T21:17:00.008-04:00

I was a bit confused when I saw this. And I'm pretty opened minded about a lot of stuff, but this was just kind of bizarre.

And then I saw this...

A Night at the Mansion

2009-05-19T11:54:00.011-04:00

I always wondered if I'd get a chance to break out this photo. It's a nice photo actually. Save for the fact that Jeni looks like she's ready to fall on her haunches.

Gov. Jon M. Huntsman Jr. and his wife, Mary Kaye. Soon-to-be ambassador to China.

Sweetheart

2009-05-18T11:07:00.003-04:00

Lois, Happy 50th Birthday!

I Love You

Square One

2009-05-14T22:42:00.006-04:00

Today we heard from the State of Arizona. My wife got the letter when she got home from work. When she opened it up the news was disheartening to say the least. There was no record of my adoption in Maricopa County in Phoenix. We did not expect this. The thought had never crossed our minds. The letter said that we should try another county. The end. I can't believe they can't take my reissued birth certificate, which has a unique number, and look behind it to see where my life changes took place. We don't have the resources to try endless counties.

All my life I was under the impression that my adoption had taken place in Phoenix because I was born there. It never occurred to me that it might have happened in a different county. I was born in Phoenix and raised in Tucson. Pima County. Tomorrow we are going to have to get another petition notarized and send it off to another courthouse. There is one more person left that might be able to help me find some answers. I have been thinking about my dad's best friend while growing up and how to contact him. We are crossing our fingers, but we are back at square one.

Achoo...

2009-05-13T22:32:00.009-04:00

I just pulled up our bedroom carpet and found 12 years of dust. After Lois had her sinus surgery she had one of those allergy tests done. The kind where they stick you 1,789 times with allergens. She unfortunately found out that she was allergic to everything, especially dust. She is allergic to every tree in our yard. And naturally everyone in the neighborhood put in the same trees. She is allergic to the acre of grass on our front and back lawn. And probably all the bushes. She is allergic to all our animals. And perhaps the worst thing being her beloved cat Oscar. The doctor asked her if she wanted to be treated for these allergies and she asked how much. "Well, it will cost you hundreds of dollars, as you can imagine."

And of course we could, knowing already that our insurance wouldn't cover it. So we begged off and went with the home remedy approach. We have started to fortify ourselves from dust mites by buying new allergen-free mattress covers and pillowcase liners. We will put in allergen filters in all the vents around the house. We bought an AirFree 1000 hepa air cleaner that can be moved from room to room. We will replace the carpet in our bedroom with either new carpet or tile. And I think we are probably going to be buying many more products that say they are allergy resistant, allergen free or dust proof. The doctor told Lois that unless she takes care of her allergies by eliminating the problems around the house, she will end up having the same problems she had in the first place. The polyps will return and eventually she will need surgery again. And of course, the shots would definitely help.

As I was pulling up the carpet I was thinking about this and wondering if perhaps it might not be cheaper in the long run to just pay for the shots. Or just go another route all together and just buy a bunch of these...