Happy birthday....from Nellie

I have two fold purpose in posting this blog. The first is the fact that Aunt Nellie (Mom's older sister) will be having her birthday shortly and I wanted wish her a happy birthday and remind all you who know her to do the same.
The second is relate the story of the birthday gift she gave to Dennis many years ago that he considered to be the highlight of his youth. We had been told it was a huge surprise and that I was part of the event as well. We were both giddy with excitement and wanted to know what was going on. It was some special activity that we had to drive to Durango in order to recieve. Durango! Anything out side of Mancos was a thrill, but Durango only added to the anticipation of it all.
On the appointed day Nellie came by the house, Mom, Nellie, Dennis and I all jumped into the car and off we went. I always loved the trip to Durango. The road would rise up and into the foothills and I would look out either side hoping to see deer and other sites. The road to the north that would take us to Grandma Matlocks house and small farm passed by. The open area on the south side of the road showed a sloping mountain where there were rope pulleys for skiers. There were never skiers, but it was obvious the mountain side had been cleared for that purpose and we fancied ourselves being skiers and falling down the slopes in the attempt to get to the bottom. There were the camel hump hills to the north as we got closer to Durango, all the while the anticipation was building up in us. We entered Durango and took the turn south that had us going into the direction of Pagosa Springs. It was just a short distance out of Durango that we turned off the road and pulled into an area that had hangars and flying machines all around.
"This is it! You are going to take a helicoptor ride today!" Nellie said.
"Wow" said Dennis "A helicoptor ride!!"
"What?" I exclaimed "A helicoptor ride?"
"Sure" came the reply "Let's go finish off the arrangements" and into the office we went.
There was some brief conversation as Dennis and I looked out the windows wondering which one we would be flying in.
We were told to follow and off we went to meet the pilot and start Dennis's birthday activity.
I'll admit right now that I was nervous at the prospect of having some little bubble with blades take me up into the air but Dennis was just all ga ga over the upcoming experience.
We were told something to the effect that there was a wind blowing and that might affect the duration of our flight.
Wrong thing for me to hear! I immediately had visions of us ending up some where over the rainbow which is nice for Dorothy on tv, but wasn't something I wanted to encounter there in Colorado.
We were buckled in, the adults backed away, the motor was started and the rotors starting whirring. I thought there was going to be more time to get clearance for lift off so I was surprised when the pilot said "Here we go" at the very same time the chopper started rising up off the ground.
I had the feeling I had just lost my stomach and I could hear Dennis say "Whhhheeeeeeeee"
We were up in the air. I could feel the tail tilt up and we were in forward motion.
"That hurts! Let go of my leg? Dennis pleaded. I was holding on for dear life. About this time the pilot looked back to see how we were doing. He must of read the horror from my face because he smiled and said "Relax. Look around. This will be fun"
I got a sudden burst of anxiety knowing he was not watching the road and I almost told him to watch where he was going, but then I realized there was no road to watch. Dennis was already immersed into turning his head in every direction. Out to the left then to the right, up, down, backwards, forwards. He was thrilled with his birthday gift and was amazed at being up in the air. It took me only a few seconds myself to come to the realization that we were indeed having a wonderful experience.
Just as I was starting to calm down and getting used to the whir of the rotors the helicopter bounced and lurched and I again grabbed ahold of Dennis's leg.
"OOOOps, there is the wind I told you about" said the pilot.
He tried his best to make the remainder of our flight a smooth one but he cut the flight a bit short and back to the hangars we went.
Now the downward flight for the the landing was worse than the take off, but I am proud to say I did not loose my breakfast or my lunch and when I was back on solid ground I had to agree with Dennis...that was one of the most memorable activities of my youth. Dennis had a birthday gift he would never forget....Thanks Nelllie

Let's go show Mom!!!

Here at the Bauer House Dennis's physical problems with Muscular Dystrophy grew to be very, very obvious. The disease had made his body start to contort, his physical strength was diminishing and his walking ability was becoming more impaired and falling for no reason was becoming more and more a daily event.
As he and I were returning home from a visit one day by the riverside, he did a little stumble which caused him to do a face plant onto the compacted dirt path that made its way from the river bank. He tried to get his hands out in front of him to break the fall, but the disease again was robbing him of his reflexes so his face landed mostly full force as he hit the ground.
Dennis rolled over and sat up. It was immediately evident he had struck his forehead on a slightly protruding rock and he had an instant, purplish bump that was quickly swelling with a slight bit of blood oozing out of the growing goose egg. His eyes looked slightly dazed and he started to make the attempt to get up. Dennis had fallen before so similar head injuries were something I had already experienced with him. I could tell this fall was a bit worse than the others and I could see if Dennis got to his feet he might easily fall over again from his dizziness, so I gently put my arm on him and kept him down on the ground.
In his irritation he looked up and started giving me a verbal lashing, but must have interpreted the concerned look on my face immediately so he stopped in mid sentence to ask me what was wrong.
I couldn't imagine that such a large knot on the head was not accompanied by a great deal of pain, but it never was Dennis style to give any outward indication he was suffering any.
"You have a growing bump on your head" I replied, to which Dennis immediately put his hand up to. As he pulled back his hand he could see the little patch of blood and knew instantly he was not in a serious blood loosing situation. He put his hand back up a second time and carefully felt the entire area of the bump and used different touching styles to test the pain factor and feel how hard the bump was. It had to be one of those bumps that was easy to determine and as I watched him I could swear it was still getting bigger.
Slowly a smile came across his face as the dazed look in his eyes disappeared and he became fully aware again of his surroundings.
"Let's go show Mom" he said as he could picture the reaction it would elicit from her as she turned into mild shock, but still would put on her best face that it was as normal a thing for us as picking our nose.
I helped Dennis up to his feet and off we excitedly went to present our newest disaster to Mom.

Don't try this at home

The childhood stories I've related up to this point were all at the Elliott House. At some point around the time I started the first grade we moved into the Bauer House. It was here at the Bauer house where I experienced my first episode of “Death by Fire”. It ended up becoming a popular event and we continued this activity often during the summer for several years to come.

The procedures for “Death by Fire” were simple. We’d capture ten or fifteen grasshoppers and put them in one of Mom’s canning jars to await their execution. Some we’d squish, some we’d pull their hoppers and antennae off and turn them back loose to fend for themselves, but most were to suffer a fiery death.

We would take gas meant for the lawnmower and pour it around the glass jail cell filled with grasshoppers. We’d strike a match and set flame around the jar, thus starting death by fire. We’d continue pouring gas around the jar to keep the flame high. As the jar inside grew hotter and hotter the hoppers would try to jump to freedom. Of course, we had the lid securely in place and each hopper trying to escape would make a resounding “pop” when it hit the lid. Soon it would sound like we were making popcorn as the grasshoppers went mad in their attempt for survival. Alas, soon the popping would stop and we had a jar full of well done, dead grasshoppers. Then we’d capture more grasshoppers and start over again.

It was on one such “Death by Fire” excursion that I carelessly spilled gas on my pants. I was oblivious to this fact until we lit the match to start the usual fire and my pants burst into flames. I’d seen a lot of fire during these exercises, but the sight of fire on my own clothes turned me into a hyper jack-in-the–box!

I jumped and screamed. I ran and hopped. I shook my leg. (I didn’t use my hands to try to beat the flames down because I knew that would burn me…duh) Still the flames persisted to leap from the fabric of my pant leg. I was more than a little worried my skin would soon feel the agony we were hoping to inflict on the grasshoppers.

Dennis kept a cooler head than I had at the moment. Which is only understandable, he wasn’t the one on fire. He dropped to the ground and started throwing dirt on my pants. Normally I would have sworn at him for getting my pants dirty, but even in my state of panic I could see that dirty pants were better than charcoal wear and I joined him in the dirt throwing contest we now found ourselves in.

The flames were soon extinguished and we had a good laugh at how energetic I had just been. We relived the event momentarily and then grabbed the gasoline and got back to the grasshoppers. This time we were more careful in dispensing the gas.

Why is it these things happen on a monthly basis????

Dot and I went to the local Hales Center Theater to use our season pass to view the latest production this past week. I arrived just barely in time to be seated so I had no time to run to the men's room. It was a long (but enjoyable) production. When it was time for intermission I had no urge to use the restroom so I did not make a bathroom visit and sat excitedly in my seat to await the final acts which were entertaining and comical. When the lights came up I strongly had the urge to go use the restroom so I did a quick jog hoping there would be only a short line requiring no waiting!!! It was a blessed moment as I found I was the ONLY one in the mens room so I quickly finished the job I had jogged in to do. Whew, relief. I walked over to the sink to wash my hands and found that no matter how far up I pulled on the hot water knob there was no water in that pipe. I turned my attention to the cold water knob and pulled up on it with equal gusto thinking it might need to be full throttle to get any water out...big mistake. It was as if all the water pressure for two knobs were condensed in the cold water pipe. The sudden blast of water sent water spouting down into the sink and then splashing out of the basin, drenching me quite thoroughly.
When I put my coat on it covered up my wet shirt quite nicely but it was very much apparent by looking at my pants that I APPARENTLY hadn't gotten to the toilet in time to take care of my bodily functions.
Oh well, what's a guy to do? Being the end of the show, most everyone was already out in the parking lot trying to leave the area. There were only three ladies who got a look at my wet pants. I can tell you for the most part they didn't raise their eyes up to my face so they'll never recognize me again anyway..............

Creating My Own Bad Karma

The Mancos River almost flowed through our back yard when we lived at the Elliott house. It was a very short walk to the bridge just south of the house and we loved to spend time playing in and around the water. One of our favorite activities was to find an assortment of empty beer cans and beer bottles for our rock throwing contests. After finding a goodly amount of cans and bottles we would stack up probably 10 times as many rocks on both sides of the bridge as we readied ourselves for the the bombing game.
We would take a can or a bottle and heave it as far up stream as we could from our perch on the bridge and then we would start hurling our rocks at the small floating object as if we were trying to sink an enemy ship. As the bottle or can bobbed and floated down the river towards us we had those rocks just a flying as we pretended we were bombers. Sometimes they'd sink fast, far up stream due to a direct hit. Some times they would sink on their own simply because they had taken on too much water to stay afloat. Other times they would survive completely even after having passed by us under the bridge, slipping away from all the flying rocks that were being thrown from the down river side of the bridge as they sailed safely down the Mighty Mancos River away from us.
Still, there were times when we wanted to enjoy the coolness of the water on a hot summer day and venture out into the water with sticks or just to flail our hands and sit in the current. On one such outing while wading across the rocks and feeling the cold water flow past my legs I became a victim of my bombing expertise. I felt the sudden sharp sting of something poking into my foot. As I jerked my foot out of the water I could see the instant dropping of blood falling back into the river and quickly dispersing as it flowed away. I made a quick plunge of my hand back into the water to see what the green colored object was that caused my cut... You guessed it... A broken beer bottle that most likely fell to the bottom of the river after I had broken it with one of my best throws. It was the first time I remember seeing such a goodly flow of blood out of my body. I had just become a victim of my own bad karma.