Come share my life

You'll poke your eye out kid!!!

2010-06-04T08:36:00.000-07:00

It must have been the fact I had already made a bit too much trouble so my parents decided to get me into Cub Scouts to make better use of my time. Along with the membership in the new pack they presented me with this itty bitty pocket knife that might have been maybe one inch long unfolded. As with any toy I wanted to go outside immediately and try it out so off I ran into the front yard to carve my name into the front tree. Mom must have watched my quick travel because she forbade me to do any carving into a tree we didn't own.Not to be deterred I ran into the back yard to cut up the biggest weed I could find. I was sure she wouldn't mind if I destroyed a weed or two, she was always bemoaning the fact they grew faster than she could pull them anyway. I found one that was taller than I was, grabbed it high and pulled it down in front of me to start my attack. I placed that half inch blade on the back side of the weed and started sawing away and pulling on the knife to make sure it cut through the meat of that weed. I was putting my all into the effort and could see I was making progress. That weed was as good as dead. I could see I was almost all the way through so I put some added muscle into the thrusts.ZIP came the knife through the last of the weed and the momentum of my hand made me smack myself in the eye. The only trouble with this, was the knife was still in my hand so it was more than a smack...I had stabbed myself with that little blade. Lucky for me it was a little blade or it might have gone all the way to my brain which never had yet figured out when a dangerous situation was arriving.I immediately dropped the knife and cupped my hand over my eye. I could feel liquid oozing into my hand so I held my head back to make sure my brains didn't flow out of the wound as well. "I've poked my eye out!!" I thought to myself and immediately wondered how I was going to hide this one from Mom and Dad. I didn't really feel much pain considering how much pain I usually had when I got even the littlest piece of dirt in my eye, so I lowered my head a bit and opened my eye to look through the cracks of my fingers.I could still see!! I closed my right eye to make sure that indeed, this now wounded eye was able to see on its own...it was working just fine. I pushed my finger harder against my eyeball to see how much liquid had leaked out of my eye and I was thrilled to find it still felt firm and in place.I could see my hand was covered in blood so I figured the next step was to get in front of a mirror to actually see what the damage was. As I did this after sneaking into and through the house to the bathroom, I figured I stabbed through the eyelid and the blade went a short distance over the top of my eyeball and into the eye socket doing no more damage than cutting the hole through my eyelid.I washed off the blood and pressed the wash cloth against the wound until it had fully stopped bleeding and then it dawned on me that I had lost the knife.Oh oh...now I'm going to be in big, big trouble because I had lost the knife on the very first day it had been given to me. I quickly made my way back out to the weed patch and found my little knife laying at the base of the much shorter weed. I picked it up, folded the blade back into place and stashed the little thing into the coin pocket of my Levi's.It wasn't long after that I learned one of the first safety lessons of knife usage in the pack meeting...while using a knife, always cut away from your body...too late!! I already learned that lesson from personal experience.

My day with Mom

2010-05-20T16:47:00.000-07:00

Today I spent the day with Mom getting her to grave sites of everyone that is buried in the area. When I went to pick her up in Tooele I found her sleeping soundly. I roused her and off we went. Lori's daughter Kim left a note saying Mom was so looking forward to getting out but that she has eaten mostly nothing for 2 days and will be very weak, which she was. I popped open a can of Pepsi for her and off we went. She held up well for the activities. I got off the center street exit in Provo and went to my store to get flowers for the grave.
Vic's daughter Amber works at the store now in the floral department so I sent her out to talk to Mom while I got the flowers. When I came out Amber turned her head away from Mom and started to cry...."I hate seeing her this way"....she said as she wiped the tears away. Mom does look all skin and bones. She is a petite woman anyway but now she looks all of her 85 years in a withered way. Amber gave us two bouquets of Gerber Daisies to put on the grave sites of Joel and Vic which we were happy to do.
After leaving the store we headed up to the court house building where Ron's office is. I had hoped to send Ron down for a visit with Mom much like I had done with Amber but his office was locked up and vacant....maybe for lunch...I'll have to talk to him later.
We went up to Dennis' grave first there in the Provo cemetery. I asked her when she had last been to his grave and she could not remember a visit there since he was buried but I know that is not correct because I have taken her there before.
Her conversation for the day was quite sharp and with good recollection until we started home and then it was evident I had tired her out with the activities of the day.
We stopped for gas before going to the Orem graves to see Vic, Joel, and Jayden.
As we visited each spot during the day Mom had no emotion at all. I was not quite sure what to expect but I was thinking she would show something at the site of Vic's head stone as she still feels his passing just was something she still can't accept...but she showed nothing.
On our way out of town I took Mom by to see Brooke. I don't know how many more chances we will have for that one last memory with Mom so Brooke came out from the middle of a hair client to smile at Mom and give her a little hug. I'd advise you all to make a visit if you can arrange it as well.
I asked her about all sorts of memories I have of past times but most of them she had no recollection of which only disappointed me a bit. It was just good to be with her for the day.
I got her back home and into her favorite chair, handed her the newspaper, thanked her for the days company and for being a great Mom.

Vic the hothead

2009-10-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

Ron tells the story of a time when Vic was just entering the gymnasium in preparation for and upcoming church basketball game (church ball is notorious for bad sportsmanship unfortunately).
As he made his way across the side of the court there was a loudmouth player arguing loudly with the referee about a call that was made. Vic wanting to stick up for the referee yelled out,
"Give him a technical!"
To which the player responded, "Mind your own business".
This got Vic just a little peeved so he yelled back a bit louder, "Give him another technical"!!
At this point the obnoxious player started on his way over to Vic to have words with him as well.
When he got with in striking distance Vic let loose with a quick right handed punch which caught the would be trouble maker full in the face and fell back immediately on his back there on the basketball court.
Vic was thrown out of the building for his violence.
When Ron caught up with him later and was able to ask about him about it and asked him how he felt about it Vic said, "Actually, it felt pretty good...."
Vic the hot head!

The athlete of the family

2009-10-21T10:28:00.000-07:00

Ron has made mention himself that one of the things that made Vic a hero to us was his athletic ability. Although he got the most notoriety from his football days...All Conference and 2nd Team All State...when high school was over, so was hit football career. Vic was good in basketball too during high school but lacked confidence in his ability and true talent he had for basketball.
Still, of all the sports basketball was the one he loved the most. He continued to play long after his high school days. He and I teamed up for Ward ball in Brigham City. With a more relaxed atmosphere and no pressure to win the conference title his basketball game bloomed and he exerted his natural ability well.
Years after graduating from Mancos High Vic found himself living back in Mancos again with his young family and the year he was there Mancos High had a player good enough to win All Conference honors himself for his talents. Vic found himself alone on the court with this young man and asked him if he would like a game of one on one with Vic. The young man, being competitive and always wanting to win replied..."Are you kidding? I'll eat your lunch!!!" as he accepted the challenge.
Vic took control of the game and schooled the youngster in basketball and then patted him on the shoulder and told him "Good game" after he had whupped him good.

Back to the bully

2009-10-20T16:48:00.001-07:00

After having a better fight showing against Dickie, we had hoped that would be the end of the bullying that went on towards Dennis...we should have been so lucky.
Dickie picked a time when he had two of his buddies around to be mean to Dennis on his next attempt. Vic was feeling a bit bold with his newly practiced fighting skills so he jumped right in to defend Dennis again, but was not prepared to take on all three fighters at the same time. He got pummeled worse on this encounter than he did the first time and when Mom found out about it she did not loudly say "I told you I didn't think it a good idea to encourage the fighting mentality..." but I am sure it was very close to the tip of her tongue.
This interaction between Vic and Dickie happened over a period of months. All the while Dennis was getting weaker and weaker as Muscular Dystrophy sapped him of strength. The weaker Dennis got the less interest Dickie had in tormenting someone who was less and less being able to even walk, so there soon came a time when Dickie no longer tormented Dennis and Vic did not have to come to Dennis's rescue at all in this regard.
Still, this showed Vic's compassion for those in the world who are different, who are weak, who are teased and tormented by others. Of all us children Vic would be the one who got into the most fights and I can honestly say that the vast majority of the time it would be because he was protecting the rights of someone else. He not only rooted for the underdog, he was willing to fight for him.

Standing up to the bully

2009-10-19T11:46:00.001-07:00

When Dad found out Vic had gotten in a fight protecting Dennis from the bully he decided it was time to help Vic out with the next encounter. His solution was to get some boxing gloves and teach Vic how to be a better fighter.
They would go out into the back yard and actually go at it in a mild manner with Dad giving pointers to Vic on the nuances of keeping your wits about you as you try to take your opponent out.
The next time Dickie came after Dennis in a bullying manner Vic was ready again to come to Dennis's defense. Vic and Dickie had a few words before engaging in hand to hand combat again.
Vic held his own this time and got in a few blows that made Dickie back away and retreat with a few bruises from the battle.
As we headed back home we were full of ourselves with excitement that the bully had been beaten at his own game and when we told Mom the good news she was less than thrilled. She didn't agree with Dad that promoting violence was the answer to this problem but was a bit at a loss as to how it all should be addressed.
When Dad found out about the encounter he was pleased and patted Vic on the back and said "Way to go son!!"
Even in my excitement I asked Dad if he could teach me how to fight. Thrilled at the prospect of me asking for improvement he put the boxing gloves on me, got down on his knees so we could be more eye to eye and he started giving me my first boxing lesson.
"Stand at an angle to me with your left hand kind of out in front of you to use for short punches he said."
"Keep your right hand back closer to her chin to protect your self from any in coming blows like this one," he instructed as he threw a very slow, right handed arching punch at me which I brushed aside for my safety.
"Good job," he said which made me beam while Dennis and Vic looked on.
"Now what you want to do is give me a quick jab with that left hand if you see an opening and just keep your mind calm so you don't get overly excited."
Dad then put his hands down on purpose to expose himself fully, giving me a wide open shot at his face.
"Go ahead and do that jab if you see an opening."
Dad was quite surprised when I let loose with a quick jab that caught him squarely on the nose and even made his head pop back some. His eyes watered up and a quick grin came across his face when he saw the look of terror on my face.
It was a dire sin to do any back talking to Mom or Dad and now that I had lashed out and actually attacked him with a vicious blow to his face....well, some how I had the instant vision that I had a big spanking coming to me even though Dad had encouraged me to hit him.
"You are quicker than I thought. You caught me by surprise with that jab. I'll be better prepared next time tiger," he said. I was much relieved.

Vic's Protective Nature

2009-10-19T00:54:00.000-07:00

When Dennis had progressed significantly with Muscular Dystrophy it was very evident he was not normal. This made him an easy target for teasing and the designated mark for the school bully.
Dickie found it very amusing to come close to Dennis and brush up against him which would cause him to fall. It was intentional and Dickie got a big kick out of having power over Dennis with such and easy action.
Dickie was a year older than Vic, four years older than Dennis and six years older than me so he was at the top of the food chain in the local school we attended.
When it was just me and Dennis and Dickie wanted to be the bully nothing was done to him as he towered over us both.
Vic ,on the other hand, jumped right to Dennis's aid when he saw Dickie make him fall.
"What did you do that for?" Vic demanded.
"Because I can" was Dickie's reply.
"Why don't you pick on someone more your size?" Vic spit out.
"You are close to my size. You want to do something about it" Dickie shot back and the fight was on.
Dickie had been the school bully long enough to be ready for the fight Vic was willing to wage in Dennis's behalf ,so that first fight went rather badly for Vic. We all went home and when Vic presented himself and his split lip to Mom she got furious and Vic cried in having to admit that he was so mad at Dickie that he lost his temper.
There was more action in this regard so I'll post the next part soon.

Another Movie Day Adventure

2009-10-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

As a five year old child I would spend an afternoon at the theater with my older brothers Vic and Dennis. Those early childhood times spent with my brothers are some of the best memories of my life. One particular afternoon we headed off to see some monster marathon and upon entering the movie house I had been inflicted with a mild case of laryngitis. I knew it would be useless to scream at any movie monsters, so during the shows I was content to just sit in my chair as tense as a frozen log in winter.As we exited the theater and started on our way home we passed Mrs. Johnson, an energetic, happy old lady who greeted us with..."Hello boys".We had been taught to be polite and that a return address was expected, so I tried to get out a "Hello Mrs. Johnson" of my own to mind my manners.To my surprise, the greeting came out full of energy and in strong voice. It seemed my laryngitis was miraculously gone. In a joyous state I walked along the street continuing in my polite mode..."Hello Mrs. Johnson...good morning...hi there..."I was talking out loud to no one as a result of the surprising rediscovery of my voice.Vic and Dennis had slowed to a near stop and let me continue on ahead of them, much amuzed at my babbling conversation with an invisible woman. After five seconds of walking and talking I realized there was a good round of laughing going on behind me. When I turned and realized my brothers were having a good laugh at my expense I became immdiately outraged and ran back to inflict a wound on their laughing lips.Dennis was closer to my age and height so I was going to hit him first. I reached my arm back and was getting ready to land a big, right handed haymaker when Vic stepped in to save Dennis. Vic caught my hand in flight towards Dennis's mouth and easily pushed me up against the store building we were passing by. This only enraged me more so I took a swing at Vic with my left arm that was free. I hit him only once in the chest when he took my left arm and also pinned it up against the building. I had a nasty reputation as being a volcano as a little child and was not about to let this chaining of my arms end my angry eruption, so I started kicking Vic in the shins as violently as I good seeing how I couldn't hit him with my arms. Vic had been in battles with me before and knew how to counter act the flailing of my legs. He simply pushed his knees into my legs, thus completely nailing me to the side of the building.There we were, the three, hardly united Musketeers. I was completely harnessed now by Vic physically, but still had another weapon ready to unleash upon him. My mouth was now working very well as the laryngitis had disappeared and I stuck my face forward and shouted out as loudly as I could..."Shit!!!"Vic's face had an instant look of shock. I could see I now had the upper hand."Shit! Shit! Shit!"I started yelling out as loudly as I could.Vic would have none of this profanity so he let go of my right hand so he could cover my mouth to shut me up. With my hand now free I started pummeling his face as best I could to get my anger out of me and inflict some just punishment. Again, Vic found himself in a dilemma. Should he uncover my mouth and protect himself? Of course he should!!! I was now beating the crap out of him.When Vic grabbed my hand to push it back against the building to save himself I started with my profanities again..."Shit shit shit..."There was no winning the battle for Vic so he let me go completely and backed away about five feet. I was steaming mad, but had used up about all the energy I had left so I just stood there looking at both Vic and Dennis. Dennis had been a bystander through this short war Vic and I had just waged and was the first one to start in with conversation."I'm going to tell Mom and Dad...."I knew I was in trouble.My anger subsided immediately as I made a plan of how I was going to run away from home...it seemed the only way I could escape the long arm of parental law.

Our special movie day time

2009-10-16T12:18:00.000-07:00

Going to watch a matinee movie was always a special treat. I suppose like many of you, there was a special day in the month when Vic, Dennis and I were allowed to spend an afternoon in the movie house watching an assortment of monster movies, westerns and an occasional mystery movie. There were a few preliminaries that we always indulged in as we made our preparations for such expeditions. I always have considered myself a normal person so please let me know if you did the same thing I did. First, we always made sure we had our slingshots in our back pockets. Secondly, before entering the show house we would stop at the neighborhood store and buy all the chewing gum we could with what little extra money we had. Third, we'd try to get up into one of the chairs at the front of the theater. Now we are ready for the fun so let the show begin. As the lights darkened and the movie came up on the screen we would pop one of the pieces of chewing gum into my mouth. I always loved the first bites of chewing gum. All that sugar separating itself from the gum and making its delicious trip down into my stomach. You know how fast that sugar leaves though and then you are left with this tasteless bullet of gum in your mouth. Did I say bullet? Of course I did, that is why we would always bring our slingshots along. After much of the sugar was gone from the gum it left a perfect little projectile that fit nicely into the leather tongue of my slingshot. The theater was always dark enough that we could aim the slingshot from my hip and launch my gum wad up at the theater screen and no one was any the wiser that some dastardly deed had just been committed. Most times we couldn't tell if our gum wad even made it up to the screen. If it arrived, did it stick? If it did stick, was it on a brown tree or the black monster? We usually couldn't tell. During one western starring, John Wayne I hit right on target. It was one of those close-up scenes where John Wayne's face covered the entire screen. I pulled back the rubber strings on my slingshot and let go with a very fine blob of gooey gum. Suddenly out of no where, John Wayne had a new mole on the left side of his forehead above his eye. If you had been there that day it wouldn't have been a noticeable addition to his features but, I saw it immediately. That was the day I got the better of John Wayne. Early movie days with Vic are leaving me with a warm nostalgia today.

Remembering Vic--One of those irritating sayings

2009-10-14T17:55:00.000-07:00

Vic would have been close to being a teenager for this one and he had this very irritating saying that he repeated for dumb acts. It is probably because I am the champion of dumb acts so he used it on me often.
Like one time when I was not holding the garbage bag securely as I was doing my chore of taking it out. The bag ripped and fell from my hands onto the floor. Rather than come over and help me in my time of immense trial Vic clapped his hands in appreciation of my dumb act and half way shouted out..."Smooth move Exlax"...
I think all of us might have a phase we remember going through when we acted in a similar manner to this and had some catchy phrase we used on others.
Well, like I said, Vic used this one regularly on me so I shouldn't have to inform anyone it made me seethe with anger.
One evening at the dinner table Vic reached up and over his plate to get more of whatever delicacy we were eating for the night and he knocked over his milk. Not wanting to pass on the event I jumped to my feet so as to give him a standing ovation and repeated his own works...
"Smooth move Exlax"... but I was not content to make it a mere casual statement. I said it loud but not in a yelling mode..."SMOOTH MOVE EXLAXXXXXXX" and I was heavy on the xxxxx.
Vic turned a sudden crimson color himself out of anger at being caught in his own belittling phrase and I know if I had been somewhere other than the exact opposite side of the table I would have gotten punched in the face.
Mom gave me a stern look herself for acting in such a manner at the dinner table and Dad had the most quizzacle look on his face as if to say..."What does that mean?"
Still it was a choice moment of comebacks in my revenge list and has stuck with me to this day.

Ahhhh how I would love to have him humiliate me one more time with it.....

That Dean boy streak

2009-10-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

I remember the story being told of Vic when we were living with Grandma Matlock (Mom's mom)
It seems that things were might quiet around the house which is never a good sign with inquisitive toddlers. After a quick search to find him they discovered he was in the cupboard area under the kitchen sink and had stowed himself away with a bottle of Karo syrup that he had pretty much emptied onto his head and face.

Remembering Vic II

2009-10-13T00:11:00.000-07:00

One of the stories Mom tells of Vic was shortly after Dennis was brought home as a new born.
Mom did one of those parental baby checks that new mothers make very regularly to check on her newborn Dennis as he was down for one of his daily sleeps.
She was very surprised to see Vic had gotten out a suit case and was getting ready to put Dennis inside of it. At this time Vic would have been closing in on three so it was not a safe thing for him to be lifting Dennis, let alone putting him in a suit case.
Mom said she wasn't sure if Vic was putting him in the suitcase to send him away out of jealousy or if he was planning on running away with his new best friend, but she stopped him from doing it no matter what his intentions were.

Remembering Vic

2009-10-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

The day Vic was born was a very exciting time for Dad. You would have thought the veteran who had seen action at the end of WWII would have been a little more composed, but every time he told the story of the day Vic was born he would laugh at himself.
When Mom told him she was in labor and ready to go to the hospital, a big uneasyness set in for Dad. While Mom was out waiting in the car Dad ran back into the house to get some towels before tearing out of Mancos in a big roar to get Mom to the hospital in Durango.
Dad was going way over the speed limit which caught the attention of a waiting policeman who immediately started a chase that Dad would not stop for.
If it wasn't bad enough he was speeding, he than ran every red light and stop sign between him and the hospital.
As he pulled into the hospital parking lot with the policeman flashing his lights Dad refused to answer any of the questions being asked him as he tried to pull Mom out of the car and carry her inside.
I'm not sure the conversation that was going on between Mom and Dad during the drive from Mancos to Durango, but there in the parking lot Mom told him to quit acting like a lunatic and let her walk into the hospital so she could get to the task at hand of delivering a baby.
The first steps Mom made found Dad right behind her with his hands on her making sure she did not fall down. Again, Mom told him to leave her alone and the thought flashed through Dad's head he had not used those towels he threw into the back seat so he ran back to the car to get the towels while trying to negotiate with the policeman.
Dad ran back to Mom and was trying to figure out how to use the towels on her when she again told him to leave her alone. (Apparently he was way out of his comfort zone if he was not on the battle lines)
Dad said he did not know what to do with the towels so he threw them in the bushes outside the hospital doors as Mom was entering in.
Back in those days fathers had to wait outside the delivery room so Dad did much pacing while Mom was doing all the work of bringing their first son Victor Irwin Dean into the world.
Luckily for us all, Dad's over exciteability did not rub off on Vic and the rest of October 18th, 1947 was a happy, calmer day.

2008-09-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

What child doesn’t have a story of a tree house while in their youth?
In our back yard was our tree house. Dennis was getting weaker as the MD progressed in his body, so we made sure the tree house was easily accessible. It was low in the tree and the steps leading up to it were wide and well secured to the tree. We had gotten a bb gun for Christmas the previous holiday and we were eager to find a bunker we could shoot it from. The tree house was perfect. It was cumbersome for Dennis to make several trips into the tree house, so we always made sure we had plenty of ammo to last us awhile each time we ventured into our bunker…which was often.
From the cover of our private club house we were safe to send a barrage of bullets upon any unsuspecting animal venturing into our shooting range. If a stray dog wandered close to our property we were quick to send him on his way yelping. The same was true for cats. Although we wouldn’t consider the sound they made to be a yelp. Many a bird met its maker when they would land in the tree that housed our bunker.
Even neighborhood animals have intelligence though and the visits from meandering dogs and cats grew more and more scarce as they learned they would get pelted if they came too close to the certain area that comprised the range of our gun. What is and army to do when they don’t have a foe to shoot at? We started shooting at something new.
Across the street and one lot to the east of our tree house was a business run my Mr. Zender. He had a repair shop where he worked on all manner of small engines and parts. He would work on some of my future lawn mowers from this very shop which now became our newest target. His entire building was made of galvanized sheeting through and through. From the door to the walls, from the floor to the roof, it was all galvanized sheeting. The sound of a bb hitting galvanized steel is quite resounding, so Mr. Zender could easily hear each bb that hit his building and echoed through out his shop. One day in every week was torment Mr. Zender day. From the privacy of our tree house we’d shoot a single shot onto the roof of his shop. The initial landing would make a very audible “ping” upon its landing. As the bb took its long, rolling trip down the inclined, corrugated roof, it made its own definite, tortuous sound. The sound would reverberate throughout his shop until it finally reached the bottom edge of the roof and fell harmlessly to the parking lot surrounding his building.We would shoot several rounds, one right after another to make the annoying sound triple in intensity to get a reaction from Mr. Zender. He would come running out from the inner sanctuary of his shop and peer up and down the road looking for the perpetrators of this hideous noise. We always made our salvos onto his roof when absolutely no one was around to heighten his frustration in not being able to find the guilty party. We would peer out the many knot holes in our tree house and watch as his head would rip from side to side in an attempt to locate us. Usually on the third trip Mr. Zender would yell some threat that if he ever caught us we would be sorry we were ever born. Such a threat would bring giggles out of us and make us stop shooting for a brief period. We made sure we had our sandwiches and drinks for lunch so if he were looking out the window hoping to find any slinking bodies, his resolve to find us wasn’t stronger than our hunger. In such fashion we vexed Mr. Zender many times, never getting caught.

Third Grade Follies

2008-08-22T09:10:00.000-07:00

Carolyn was the cutest girl in the class and I was always doing some childhood stunt to get her attention. We didn't have any ink bottles at our desk I could put under her pig tails, nor did I have the dream-come-true opportunity of sitting behind her, so I always had to make my impressions during recess.
One particular day I caught sight of her just as recess was ending and she was hanging up her coat before entering the class room. As she stretched up to put that coat on the rung it caused her dress to hike up some and gave me a view of those mysterious under pants that us boys were never supposed to see. It was such a situation that made me burst out those famous lines I had learned from my perverted friends and brothers...
I see London, I see France
I see Carolyn's under pants
I thought it was a great ice breaker line, but Carolyn had a very different reception to what I had said. She must have been schooled by my younger sister Roberta...Carolyn immediately headed into the class room and told on me to Mrs. Eschelman who made a quick snap of her head in my direction and had a look of fire in her eyes...I didn't know those words could create such passion in women.
Mrs. Eschelman excused herself in front of all the class and grabbed ahold of my collar..."Let's take a visit to Mr. Smith young man" she said as we started in the direction of the principal's office.
I hadn't been to the principal's office before, but I had the feeling Mr. Smith was a pleasant man given the few interactions I had with him from previous school years. Still, I had never been delivered to him as a delinquent so I wasn't sure what to expect.Upon entering the door Mr. Smith stood up tall and gave a stern look our way. I'm sure the body language of Mrs. Eschelman and the fact my collar was still firmly in her grasp let him know I had been up to no good. (Another thing not in my favor was the fact my two older brothers had made themselves known at the principal's door before me as well)
"How can I help you Mrs. Eschelman?" was his queery.
"Ricky has been looking up Carolyn's dress and spouting embarrassing poetry" came her reply. "I've got to get back to my class. Send Ricky back when you are done" she commanded, she then spun and whisked herself back towards my fellow classmates and Carolyn.
Mr. Smith showed me the chair in front of his desk and asked me to be seated. He then shut the door. I knew I was in for then. Nothing good happens behinds closed doors does it?
"You were looking up a dress were you?" He asked intently.
"Yes sir" came my reply. I was hoping the extra bit of respect and politeness of "sir" would help me out a bit.
"Was it an accidental peek? Or were you kneeling down, pretending to tie your shoes kind of peek?"
I must of had an instant look of guilt on my face because I have to admit that I was fully bent at the waist trying to get the best view I could...I couldn't muster a reply but I knew Mr. Smith was now convinced of my answer.
"Are you going to make a habit of this in the future he asked?"
"No sir" was my quick response.
"You'd better get back to class then...and make sure I don't see you in here again"
I ran back to class in quick order. I must admit that I made several more trips back to Mr. Smith's office but never for looking at underwear or for reciting bad poetry.

2008-08-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

I have a sudden flash back of the second grade and my student/teacher inter actions with Mrs. Bircher. She was a rotund lady that tried to teach and I was an energetic/curious student who tried not to learn. I always did seem to have an experiment that I wanted to try out and one day I had the grand idea of putting a thumb tack on the teachers chair to see if a rotund lady could actually jump up off her chair instead of slowly getting herself up as Mrs. Bircher always did. On the appointed day I got into class and put said thumbtack in the middle of her chair while she was up and about getting her supplies ready and then I went to my chair to watch how my experiment played out. Mrs. Bircher would almost always do her talking and teaching from her desk once she had sat down so I was anxious to see if that tack would change her style. My anticipation heightened as she neared her desk and began her descent towards that tack....PLOP...nothing. No reaction what so ever.I was disheartened. What happened or didn't happen as the case may be?
I had supposed she had sat down so perfectly that the tack ended up being placed where the crack in her behind was and the tack, being so short, didn't do its entended purpose.My solution was to try two tacks on my next attempt so such a result wouldn't happen again.The next day I followed through on the two tack plan and sat watching for the outcome ...PLOP...nothing. I couldn't believe it. Was this lady oblivious to pain? Had she endured this before and knew to just sit through it all to dumbfound curious students? Not to be deterred I decided to use 4 tacks to make certain the experiment was fool proof.I must confess in retrospect I was an idiot to start this experiment in the first place, so a whole lot of me is relieved to report that even with 4 tacks on the chair I didn't get to see if Mrs. Bircher was able to jump up. Still, I wonder what she was wearing that protected her from my stupid curiosity???

School Daze Confessions....

2008-08-07T14:47:00.000-07:00

With school soon starting up again I'm sure all of us can easily draw up memories of those special days in those educational halls and classrooms. Here is the start of a few stories to show you what a special student I was....

With school starting up again soon, I couldn't help but go back in time to relate some of the events that traumatized me while in the rooms of education during my youth. Mrs. Morris was my first grade teacher and I had been warned by my older brothers, Vic and Dennis, that she was strict and sour in temperment. I don't remember that first day of school, but I do remember one isolated moment when I became the main focus for every set of eyes in my class. I had been assigned to sit near the back of the class and in the middle row of seats. This was usually a good area for me to either lean forward, sideways, or backwards so as to blend into the bodies around me so I couldn't be seen by Mrs. Morris. In this near hidden state I could pull the grasshoppers from my pockets or whatever entertainment item I had dragged along for the day. On this particular day I apparently had nothing to occupy my hands and mind, so I was careless in hiding myself from Mrs. Morris while deciding to do the innocent, childhood activity of picking my nose. Mrs. Morris was able to scrunch her face up into several modes of hideousness depending on what was in her field of vision. When she caught sight of my finger embedded up into my notsril and buried to the first knuckle, mining for little green nuggets of nose ore, her face turned into the worst form of disgust I had seen all year. Her eyes went almost shut. Her forehead wrinkled downward, the corner of her mouth tweaked upward, her yellowing teeth clenched. Her nostrils flared and she started slowly shaking her head from side to side as if she were a bull getting ready to charge. She had stopped her instuctions to the class and the new silence caught the attention of every member in the classroom, who in the eon of silence, now looked up to see what had happened to the chatterbox. Upon seeing her contorted face all members of the class had to turn and see what she was looking at.
I had no idea what the proper ettiquette was for such situations. (If you know please enlighten me as I'm still not sure what to do under such situations)
So now here I was trying to decide if I should pull the finger out of my nose and show the audience my newest discovery, or if I should suddenly act as if I were asleep and then admit to the class that instead of sucking my thumb while asleep, I had the habit of putting my finger up my nose. I shrunk down in my desk, kept my finger in place and turned to several assorted shades of red in my embarrassment.
Mrs. Morris suggested I excuse myself and go the bathroom for some tissue. I quickly got up and headed for the door with my finger still firmly in place. Mrs. Morris started a path towards the door as well to intercept me before I could make my get away. Just before letting me get out the door she leaned down and whispered in my ear...
"Am I ever going to see that finger there again?"
I shook my head no, walked out the door, and quickly pulled my finger out to see if I had harvested anything of value...

A Mission Passed On

2008-07-17T19:26:00.000-07:00

Here are the directions: 1. Ad a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I have had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember. This can be about me, or any related memory of my family.... 2. Next, repost these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It is actually pretty funny to see the responses.

Life changing event

2008-07-16T16:45:00.000-07:00

During this time of Dennis's deterioration and the diagnosis from the doctor, Mom came to the realization there were going to be troubling times ahead for the Dean household. She was adamant that Dad should give up his drinking because his alcoholism had already caused too much damage to all, and turn his attentions to his family. Dad agreed and for the most part had given up drinking altogether when he received a phone call saying President Hamblin wanted to have an interview with him.
Although he had mostly given up alcohol Dad was still smoking and our church attendance was very sporadic at best. When President Hamblin visited with Dad, Dad was told he was being called to be the next bishop of the Mancos Ward. Dad was in total disbelief and said he could not be bishop because he did not obey "The Word of Wisdom", hadn't paid tithing for 2o years and was a poor example as a father and a husband.
{resident Hamblin's reply to this was..."Brother Dean, you can either accept this call from the Lord and receive the blessings or you can turn it down and suffer the condemnation..."
To this Dad responded, "President, when you put it that way I don't suppose I have any other choice but to accept...."
It took much courage and committment, but this decision changed all of our lives drastically for the better and for the next many years we were all on a different path of thought and actions in our lives.
Looking back in retrospect most of us are sure this change in attitude would not have happened to Mom and Dad if Dennis had been of normal health, truly we can see that God works in mysterious ways.

Doctor visit

2008-07-06T05:58:00.000-07:00

As a follow up to the last post, an appointment was made to have a general checkup with Dr Donesky, the family doctor, to have him give a report on Dennis. It was his opinion that Dennis might have had a slight bout with polio and that was the reason his body was looking different than normal. The symptoms did not mirror the usual effects of polio though, so Dr Donesky suggested that Mom and Dad take Dennis to see a specialist in childhood diseases. This was something that did not happen until many months later. As the specialist looked at Dennis he was able to make a fast diagnosis and told Dad that polio would have been preferable to the disease Dennis actually did have. He named the disease and the prognosis to Mom and Dad for the rest of Dennis's short life. He said that Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy would continue to make Dennis more and more weak and that he would probably die before the age of 18. Mom and Dad shared the news of what disease Dennis had but did not pass on the prognosis to us and we went on with our lives.

Never alone again....

2008-07-01T17:53:00.000-07:00

I've come some what to the time frame in the stories of my youth to this one that impacted our family quite dramatically.
Dennis had succumbed gradually to the effects of Muscular Dystrophy to the point where he fell on a regular basis simply due to the fact his muscles were not strong enough to carry his body. It was a slow struggle for him to get back up to his own two feet again to continue walking, but was something he was determined to do to keep on with what he hoped would be a regular life.
One day while at school there was a brief storm that left the ground cold, wet and slippery. When school was out Dennis headed straight for home, cutting through a back ally to shorten the trip from the school building to the house. While in the ally he fell down and started his customary method of getting himself up to a standing position again. This entailed finding a stationary object such as a tree, a door, or a building wall. Under normal conditions he would kind of pull himself up against the stationary object and his body would lean at a slant, he would then walk his feet back under his slanted body. The problem he encountered this stormy day was the slippery surface, which would not allow him to get the traction needed to finish his standing procedure. Each time he needed traction, his feet would slip out and away from him causing him to fall back to the ground. It was as if he were trapped in a cage. It was a situation he could not get himself out of himself.
As the day light was ebbing away, Mom and Dad became concerned enough that Dad left the house in an effort to find Dennis. The fact that Dennis had not come home right after school was not a concern as we would often play or stay with friends for a brief time on our own before coming home. Some phone calls had been made and when there was no accounting for Dennis's where abouts Dad started the little search party. His first obvious look was to do a reverse trip from the house to the school.
Dennis had started to crawl on his hands, belly and knees through the muddy surface towards the house as that was the only forward progress he could make. As Dad got over the foot bridge and to the start of the ally he saw Dennis and was then able to get Dennis home to warmth and safety, but also with the knowledge that things could easily have turned out very badly for Dennis.
As Dennis recounted his inability to get to a standing position he also was truly sobered by the knowledge that his inability to get up could have cost him his life if he would have not been found and was stranded in that ally after the cold had set in after sundown.
I remember Mom and Dad telling him that from that point on he was never to be alone again. It became a personal commandment to him that he could go nowhere without Vic or me with him again.
It was a proclamation that he hated to have to adhere to but also knew it was one he would have to follow for his own good.
From this experience it became obvious to Mom and Dad that they had better start getting some medical attention for Dennis's condition so appointments were made to get Dennis into the doctors office for some evalutations of some sort.
Dennis was very healthy in most every area. He did not have seizures, coughs, fevers, or any illness related symptoms in this regard but it was obvious his body was becoming arched and his strength was far below average.
This particular experience slapped us all into a changing of our daily routine and attitudes.

My Prayer

2008-06-21T00:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Father I thank Thee for all I've given
I don't feel that I deserve all I have here
The love of my parents who taught me the gospel
oh please bless them Father and always stay near.
My wife and my children the happiness they bring
for all of these blessings I sing

Dear Father for Jesus I thank Thee completely
My only hope is in all that He's done
His teachings, His longings for me to come home
oh please help me Father like Jesus become
increase my faith in your true eternal plan
Dear Father I know that you can.........

Death??

2008-06-20T05:17:00.000-07:00

Death?? Oh yes!! I'm familiar with him
He has taken my brother, my sister, my friend
He has taken my father, my granddaughter too
He has taken the old, he has taken the new.

And each time he came he tore me a part
and left me with such a large hole in my heart
but all you who loved me knew of my pain
and helped me until I felt normal again

So each day I pray and thank God above
For each one of you and all of your love
and I thank Him for each of those dear ones who've died
for they each added joy and brought strength to my life

And I know that some day death will visit again
I don't know the who or the how or the when
and when he comes I'll be broken anew
but thanks to you all I know I'll make it through

and someday death will come calling for me
and when he does, what a friend he will be
for love is eternal and death cannot end
this love that I feel for my family and friends

Jayden is waiting, Roberta is there
When we finally meet a reunion we'll share
and I know that my joy will be more than my pain
when I finally see all my loved ones again

Poems for silliness

2008-06-19T10:21:00.000-07:00

This one earned me extra credit in high school and is the earliest poem in my memory
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Once I told a little lie I didn't even stop to try
and think that it might hurt someone
that they'd get blamed for what I'd done
that they'd get spanked and yelled at too
for something that they did not do
and this is why a person should not lie
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If you recite this with a cowboy twang you'll get the sarcastic feel of it all
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I picked up the paper and turned to the section
of people who died yesterday
and I got to wonderin' if they had one more chance
what are the things that they'd say?
Then I got thinkin' , Hey! that could have been me
instead of them on this page
so if I should kick off tomorrow please know
How much I love you today.

In all of the hustle and all of the bustle
of life that we face everyday
Those who are near to us, those that are dear to us
are those that should hear us say
you are my every thing, please hear these words I sing
tomorrow will bring what it may
so if I should kick off tomorrow please know
how much I love you today

Tiny fingers

2008-06-18T20:12:00.001-07:00

Amy made a request for this. This was inspired by watching the girls as growing babies and wanting to teach them about life
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Tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb
Baby's laughter, your face is full of crumbs
Lie beside the one who gave you birth
She and I will tell you the wonders of the earth

The beauty as the sunshine greets another day
The wonder of a smile that chases tears away
Flowers in the springtime, the colored leaves of fall
The joy of having friends with whom to share it all

Tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb
Baby's laughter your face is full of crumbs
Lie beside the one who gave you birth
She and I will tell you the heart aches of the earth

The pain that burns within you when a loved one dies
Perplexed because there are no answers to your whys
War and its destruction, a million tears will fall
Each day that your alive you'll have to face it all

Tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb
Baby's laughter your face is full of crumbs
Lie beside the one who gave you birth
She and I will tell you the purpose of the earth

Each day will bring a lot of good and bad for you
So always help the needy, try your best to do
Both of us can truly tell you that this life's worth while
Oh yes we know it is every time you smile...................

My lullaby

2008-06-18T06:49:00.000-07:00

Here is a song I use to get the little ones to go to sleep while they are under my care...
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My little child the day is through
I hope that it was nice to you
your precious face has made me smile
Now let me sing to you awhile

There was a time I felt alone
your mother came, we made our home
and now you're here and you're so sweet
I need no more, my life's complete.

So close your eyes and go to sleep
your mom and I will try to keep
you safe from harm your whole life through
Please always know that we love you

There was a time I felt alone
your mother came, we made our home
and now you're here and you're so sweet
I need no more, my life's complete.

Your mother whispered in my ear
and now my eyes are filled with tears
I feel so blessed! What can I say?
Your baby sister's due next May.........

Day 3

2008-06-17T06:43:00.000-07:00

Here is a poem inspired by the raunchy portraying in some rap and other songs of what I feel is something intimate and personal.
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It was 7 til 2:00 it was heaven with you
It was pure delight.
You were with me at 1:53
It was a magical night

You made me smile for such a long while
We were as one as two people can be
It was heaven with you at 7 til 2:00
yes it was 1:53

We had so much to say that all the next day
We walked hand in hand
Together we walked, together we talked
Together we made our plans

That night we danced and we romanced
and then it happened all over again

It was 7 til 2:00 it was heaven with you
It was pure delight
You were with me at 1:53
It was a magical night

I made you smile for such a long
We were as one as two people can be
It was heaven with you at 7 til 2:00
Yes it was 1:53

Dot related because of her birthday...

2008-06-16T00:54:00.000-07:00

Here are a couple of poems that are Dot related. The first will be the short one which I wrote for our 20th anniversay. These are lyrics put to music but for this post will pass for poetry
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It was twenty years ago today
you came into my life to stay
I have never felt more okay
and I know you feel the same

and through out those twenty years
we've wiped away each others tears
you've helped me conquer every fear
that's why I always want you near

so now to heaven I implore
please, won't you give us twenty more
'cause of this one thing I am sure
without her I could not endure

and may our future years be blessed
with grandchildren and happiness
for this I truly will profess
of all men....I'm the luckiest.........
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Today's the day you completely changed my life
Today's the day that you became my wife
and now the world looks so much lovelier to me
and as you stay that's how its always gonna be

For now the sun seems brighter, I hear more laughter
and I feel things I've never felt before
My dear you've helped me open heaven's door

So as we walk together down the road of life
some days we'll laugh and there'll be days that we will cry
and one by one as our children come along
they'll look to us and we will sing to them this song

For now the sun seems brighter, I hear more laughter
and I feel things I've never felt before
My child you've helped me open heaven's door

Then when we're older and we're sitting side by side
We'll watch our grandchildren our hearts will fill with pride
and I'll look back at all the things that we passed through
and I will say I'm glad I spent my life with you

For now the sun seems brighter, I hear more laughter
and I feel things I've never felt before
My dear you've helped me open heaven's door

Some time next century when our lives are finally through
You'll see my spirit and my spirit will know you
We'll have those same old feelings as before
and hand in hand together we'll walk through heaven's door....

Who knew???

2008-06-15T09:35:00.000-07:00

There is a national poetry day in October, a national poety week in late August and a national poetry month in March...or so my google search informed me. Each day this week I'll post a poem I have written and I'll start off with this short poem I wrote for Dad and our love for basketball.

You cheered me on in basketball and in everything I've done
you've been proud to be my father, I've been proud to be your son
but when this life is over and our spirit life's begun
on that first day back in heaven I will take you one on one..........

Talk in church with Joel as the main topic

2008-06-12T14:34:00.000-07:00

This past week I gave a talk in church. As the new Ward Mission Leader I got my first speaking opportunity as we had the most recently returned missionary report to the ward.
The topic was missionary work of course and I used Joel as a prime example of how he bettered himself and chose to serve the Lord.
A mathematical fact I presented was this, there are around 13 million members world wide and 6billion people on the earth. That means that each member has the charge to introduce nearly 500 people to the gospel. Take into consideration most members let the full time missionaries do all the gospel sharing. Now, if 10% of the church were full time missionaries (which isn't true) then each missionary would have to contact and teach 5,000 people to have the work fill the entire earth. Take into account that missionaries travel in pairs, each pair would have to teach 10,000 people...the message was that everyone needs to be a part time missionary.
We can each do some changing in our lives in the missionary effort so that we can benefit the lives of others as Joel changed and benefitted each of our lives

2008-06-04T21:43:00.000-07:00

Many times our minds were piqued by something we had seen and we were curious enough to investigate some certain situation. On one particular cowboy show, Dennis and I were put off at the fact a man had hanged himself simply by kicking a stool out from under himself. Fake…boo. How could that possibly be fatal? I was seven at the time and Dennis was closing in on his ninth birthday. We had seen numerous hangings where the trap door was released and the bad guy’s neck was snapped as the slack ran out of the rope after a 10 foot fall. Now that was how hanging killed someone!!!
Still, we were curious as to how much death a person could inflict on themselves simply by kicking out a stool so we decided to field our own little experiment. For this we needed some rope, which we found in the back yard by the tree house. We didn’t know how to make a hangman’s noose so we just made a simple slip knot and made sure it wouldn’t come loose when we tried to hang ourselves.
With our rope now ready we needed a beam to throw the rope over. We easily realized the branch of our front yard tree would make a suitable beam, so we headed for the front yard.
Now we were ready to validate our hypothesis that just merely dangling from the end of a rope cannot cause death. To enact our plan it was agreed I would climb up the tree and put the noose over my head. I would then slip off the branch and hold onto the rope myself as I dangled in mid air. If indeed, I could tell this was a possible way of causing death I would let go of the rope myself and gravity would pull me to the ground, thus ending the experiment.
I climbed up the tree, got out into the middle of the branch, put the noose over my head and let myself slip off the branch while I kept a hold of it as if I were going to do chin ups. I let go of the branch with one hand and used it to grab a hold of the rope. There I was, possibly suspended between life and death. I had one hand on the branch, the other hand on the rope. The experiment was now only seconds away from its start. I let go of the branch and held on tight to the rope with both hands.The rope immediately tightened around my neck as I slipped down a few inches from the branch and the slack went out of the rope. I was quick to grab the rope with both hands. The grip only lasted for a hundredth of a second as I could instantly tell this was not a recommended activity for the human body. The slip knot held wonderfully as the full weight of my body was hanging there from the tree with only my head keeping me inside the noose. The fire in my throat was a quick reaction to the rope pushing my larynx deeper into my neck. The experiment was over in a second. I knew this was a bad way to die so I let go of the rope…My descent to earth did not happen. I was slowly slipping farther away from the branch. Finding myself in this precarious situation I started to flail my hands and wrench my body as if…as if…well..as if I were choking to death!!
Dennis immediately saw the cause of my slow return to earth. He was standing on the rope. He made a quick side step off the rope and I came hurtling down with a thud. With the slack now back in the rope I was able to breath again. I pulled the rope away from my neck and off my head. I had a rope burn about an inch wide all the way around my neck. I tried to cry, but could only emit a sound made by someone whose mouth is full of marshmallows. The rope had temporarily robbed me of my voice.
What is the moral of this story??? Don’t try hanging yourself. It is painful, dangerous and stupid.

My bare bottom spanking

2008-05-27T14:23:00.001-07:00

As Mom would cook dinner in the evenings it would be a common event for us to take our bath as she was doing the cooking. After ten hours of being boys, making mud pies, squishing ants, climbing trees, kicking up dust and all, the first order of business would be for us to take that bath so as not to contaminate any food presented to us.

Just because we were in the bath tub though didn't mean that play time was finished. We got the great idea that we could play "boat launching" at the same time we got ourselves cleaned.

Our tub was slanted on the back end so we got it in our mind we could use that slant like a playground slide. I was the first to be the launching boat. I got up and onto the back part of the tub, curled my legs under me and let go to the tub sides and slid down into the water just as we had seen ships do on television when they were being christened to make their maiden voyage.
I smashed down into the water with big splash and laughed out loud at my new adventure.

Dennis got a good splashing of the water in his face and wanted to return the favor. (We always bathed together, did you have a bath mate?) We traded places with me down by the drain and Dennis now at the back of the tub getting ready for a maiden voyage of his own. He was getting weaker from the slow but steady progress of Muscular Dystrophy but still had enough strength to get himself situated and then off and down the tub slide for an even bigger splash than mine, that sent a goodly amount of water up and over the edge of the bath tub.

Now that we both had had a good turn we changed places and I had the challenge in my head of making my second slide a bigger and better slide than the one Dennis had just pulled. As I teetered on the back edge of the tub I had the sudden realization that there wasn't very much water left for me to slide into..."what had happened to the water?" I thought but didn't do much rationalizing as I sent myself down into the tub for my second splashing.

Just at that moment Mom walked into the bathroom to see what the raucous laughter was all about and witnessed my little cannonball dive into the tub with its accompanying splash of water. Might I remind you she had just arrive from the kithchen where she was trying to do the cooking and she had a pan in her hand she had planned on boiling some food in. At the sight of her bathroom floor having more water on it that what was in the tub, Mom lost her self control. She hurried over to the tub, pulled me up and out with one hand and commenced to paddle me with that pan on my bare, wet bottom...TWANG TWANG TWANG...I heard the sound ring out and felt the accompanying pain zip through my butt as I recieved my punishment for trying to be ship when I should have been a cleaner.

We were given implicit instructions to clean up the water mess we made or a return trip would be made with a bigger pan. Needless to say we mopped up that mess immediately and when we were done I had Dennis look at my bottom to see what kind of mark had been left.

"Whew!!! Your butt is soooo red. She got you good."

If it was spring it was time for baseball

2008-05-18T13:33:00.000-07:00

Like many of my youthful activities, we had to make do with what we had at the moment for our recreation. We had a ball and bat that we had made good use of. That poor ball was so well used that the threads broke loose and the leather covering had come completely off, rendering the ball useless to us anymore. Still addicted to the thrill of trying to hit something over the fence, we took the bat out wanting to use it again. We decided small rocks would work just as well for baseballs, so we assembeld a small pile of rocks that would satisfy the need. Stevie was with Dennis and me and was the first one to step into the batter's box while I did the pitching. It took several throws to get the hang of throwing something smaller than a baseball and also for Stevie to zero in on hitting something half the size of a ball, but on one perfect pitch he connected and sent the rock zinging. It was a perfect line drive that came right back to me on the pitchers mound and caught the right, top edge of my head, right at the hair line. The rock made a glancing blow richocheting away and I had an instant ringing in my ears. I found myself teetering to the right and stepped that way trying to catch my balance. I fell to the ground and rolled over on my back as the ringing persisted and the sky had a look of little circles that pulsed in front of me. I could hear Dennis and Stevie talking to me, but I couldn't see them and I had the sensation of a slow, warm, trickling of blood that was flowing down towards my ear. As the image of their two faces came into view above me a feeling of intense pain surged into my skull. I now realized what Goliath might have felt when he had his famous encounter with David from Biblical times. Had that rock been one inch lower and to the center it might have had the same final effect on me as it did for Goliath...I suppose God had a different plan for me...I'm glad he was on my side at that moment.

Ronnie and diapers Part II

2008-05-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

One particular day I was put in charge of Ronnie, who was walking at the time, but still in diapers. Mom and Berta had gone off to the store, Vic and Dennis were several blocks away at our homemade swimming hole at the Mancos River and Ronnie had pooped his pants big time.
Being the wonderful baby sitter I was, I got his diaper off, rinsed it out and put it in that stinky laundry pail for Mom to wash. You remember cloth diapers don't you?
As I was rinsing out the messy diaper Ronnie decided it was time to go out and play so off he went, butt naked into the back yard to enjoy mother nature. I was a little worried when I couldn't find him in the house, but I had his new diaper in my hand and I went looking for him.
It didn't take long to find him and when I did, he threw one of those little brotherly fits because he didn't want me interferring with his life. He was, after all, not much smaller than me and shouldn't be taking orders from someone close to his size.
Try as I could, Ronnie just would not cooperate and get that new diaper on. The law of the house of course demanded that I take Ronnie to a higher authority to put the message into his brain he had to listen to me, so I grabbed his hand and started dragging him up to the swimming hole where Vic and Dennis were so Ronnie could get properly educated in just how much power I had over him at this moment.
Getting to the swimming hole required that I march right down the middle of town and in front of several businesses. I had done this many times before, but not with a naked child in tow. I got several strange looks and Ronnie was howling up a storm. I don't know which was more irritating, the people only cringing in horror and not helping, or the naked ball and chain behind trying to rip my arms out of their sockets. We must have been a vulgar sight to behold.
It was quite the wrestling match, but I finally got Ronnie up to the swimming hole where Vic spoke out loudly in disgust..."Ronnie doesn't have any clothes on!!!"
"I know that...duh!!...He won't let me PUT any clothes on him. Tell him he has to listen to me"
"Ronnie, you listen to Ricky and put your clothes on!!"
Vic said it with so much authority and conviction that Ronnie gave up his fight immediately.
We turned around and off we trudged again through the middle of town. The only thing that was better for me was the fact Ronnie wasn't screaming this time...The looks from all the people we passed by?? Well, I guess they just plain ol' didn't care much for the Main Street Streaker. You all know what a fad Ronnie started as streaking soon became the rage several years after that...a boy ahead of his time and I was proud I had my little part in history as well.

Ronnie and diapers Part I

2008-05-10T11:49:00.000-07:00

When we moved into the Bauer House (the era of stories I am now relating to you all) Ronnie was still in diapers. One winter day Dennis and I donned our jackets and went out into the front yard to revel in the newest snowfall. It had to have been a good storm as it left a snow depth deep enough that we kicked through it launching imaginary footballs up into the air.
As we left the house though apparently we left the front door ajar and Ronnie toddled out onto the front porch in an attempt to come out and play with us. We had planned for our little venture outside and were well dressed but Ronnie was in sneak mode and stood on the front porch with nothing more than his diapers on. We saw him immediately and started in with our brotherly duties of watching over him.
"Hey Ronnie, come to me" said Dennis from his spot on the south side of the lawn. Then he signaled to me to do the same thing.
I immediately saw the fun in wondering which of us Ronnie would come to in his near naked state so I echoed the invite, "Ronnie, come this way. Come to me."
I'm sure he was already shivering, but Ronnie got the biggest smile on his face knowing he was being invited to play with his older brothers. He turned around and started off the porch in his backwards, going down the steps mode and stopped immediately in his tracks when his bare feet entered the snow. He found himself up to his little knees in the snow and was quite aware that the diaper was not doing enough to keep him warm. He started crying immediately which was a warning to us that Mom would be appearing any moment so we both started our run in his direction.
Mom's have that radar sense that allows them to hear their children's bleating and made her appearance before we could get to Ronnie and help save him. I don't remember any thing being said to either Dennis nor I about being neglectful, but then again, Mom didn't know that we had made a game out of calling out to the naked one in an attempt to see which of us he would come to.

Mother's Day

2008-05-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

This is a short story I recall Dad relating which shows Mom's quiet commitment in knowing what is the right thing to do.
Dad told of the day when he was going to be presented in Stake Conference for a sustaining vote on becoming the new bishop of the Mancos Ward. He related that just the thought of standing up in front of all those people had him nervous to the point that he was thinking he would be better off forgetting the call and leaving to head back to Mancos to slip back into the life he was familiar with.
Mom, not wanting to go back to that life, held him firmly by the arm and walked forward by his side into the building and found the proper place to sit. As Dad related the story he expressed how Mom had a better hope than he did at the time for an improved life situation and refused to be by his side if he chose to go backwards but was fully supportive in getting him into a better future.
I know for my part that Mom has been supportive with me in my positive ventures and not condeming when I've done my stupid acts. I love you Mom and appreciate your quiet commitment in helping to make me a better person

My first kiss

2008-05-02T08:19:00.000-07:00

It was summer time and my youth would soon be coming to an end. Fall would bring me to the halls of Mancos Elementary to start the first grade. This summer had to be one where I prepared myself to enter the arena with all other big people. Our neighbor to the south of us had her granddaughter, a girl my age, staying with her for the summer. Nancy wasn't like my sister or any other of the girls I knew. She came right over and wanted to play baseball with us. We were reluctant to let her play, until she knocked me down and took the ball away from me. She said she wouldn't give it back unless we let her play....she became the first baseman. This must have been symbolic because later on in the summer, Nancy would be the first girl I ever got to first base with. Nancy loved to climb trees, throw rocks and dig for worms. She was just like one of the guys...only she wasn't a guy and I knew it, even though I was only six. Our club wasn't very big, but Nancy fit right in and we spent many hours together every day. We talked about frogs and sports, little brothers and marshmellows. We played red rover and kick the can, catch and tag. Nancy had worked her way into my life, but still, I knew she was a girl...a girl I was beginning to like a whole lot. One afternoon as the sun was going down and the light of day was escaping fast from our back yard. Dennis, Nancy and I decided it would be a fun time to put together our make-shift tent. We always had to make do with whatever articles we could find when we embarked on some new experience like this one. We grabbed a big, black plastic tarp that Mom had used to cover vegetables earlier in the year. To make it like a teepee tent we used Dad's step ladder as the center pole and we gathered up quite a few rocks to use as the securing poles at different areas out side on the plastic. By the time we got our little tent all put together the sun was down and darkness had settled in. I was kind of feeling like we were our own little family and we had built our first home. I suppose it might have been only chivalrous and proper if I carried Nancy across the threshold of our new house, but I was just feeling a bit too awkward to ask her..."My beloved Nancy, let me carry you, my love into our new abode..."I did have a plan though and put it into action as soon as we were inside the tent. Just as the last opening of our tent was being closed I made a quick gander to see exactly where my true love was situated. With the closing of that last flap at night time, the inside of our tent was completely black. I moved over to where I remember Nancy being situated with my lips in a complete and full pucker...I made contact. Where, I wasn't sure.I immediately felt the hot flash of pain on the left side of my face and only a second later could hear and see that our tent was being destroyed. She had hit me!! It wasn't a girlie slap either. Remember, she was just like one of us guys. My face started to throb immediately.
"Hey!!! What was that?? Nancy shouted out. "Some one kissed me? Who was it?
Even though it was dark the expression on all of our faces was easy to discern. Dennis had a look of bewilderment. What was Nancy talking about?? Who kissed me?
Nancy had a look of fiery indignation...how dare any body kiss any of the one of the other of us when we were all just one of the guys? I'm not sure what kind of look I had. I just knew my face hurt and I hoped it was dark enough that no one could see the welt shaped knuckle indentation that surely was lodged there in the side of my face.
"Well!!! Which one of you kissed me???" demanded Nancy.
I could see Dennis was afraid to get himself pummeled so he spoke up the truth immediatly..."It wasn't me!!" he said.
Nancy turned her fiery eyes my way and I could see she still had her fist clenched ready to club me when I confessed my big sin."It wasn't me!!" I squawked out.
Nancy stood there looking back and forth at me and then Dennnis. Me and then Dennis, trying to figure out who was lying. All she had to do was check the side of my face to see the perfect mark match of that fisted hand, but she didn't. I was half tempted to ask her if she had kissed herself, seeing how neither Dennis nor I had kissed her, but I could see she was in no mood for any of my jokes. Nancy spun on her heels and stomped back over to her grandmother's house not to play with us again during what short time was left of that particular summer.
Dennis turned his bewildered gaze back my way. "What was that all about," he asked?
"Darned if I know," I replied, "Is that what they mean when they say girls are so unpredictable?
""Must be," said Dennis.
The next day when we got up I had a bit of black eye and that undeniable welt on the left side of my face.Dennis took one look and me and gave me a disappointed look...."Liar"...and that was all he said.

Happy birthday....from Nellie

2008-04-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2008-04-25T07:55:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-20T16:43:00.000-07:00

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????

2008-04-06T13:08:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-04T18:34:00.000-07:00

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.

Early onset of Alzheirmers

2008-03-23T09:40:00.000-07:00

I have a quirky tradition that the grandkids seem to love and the adult family members wish I would discontinue. Any time I burp while around the grandkids I make sure I do it with full force so the whole world can hear. After each noisy eruption I immediately try to blame it on someone else, which usually creates a good deal of laughter. Sometimes the others in the group will join in and try to put the blame on whomever I fingered as being the culprit, but most times they all respond in unison letting me know I was the guilty party after which I innocently ask..."That was me?? Oh!! Then excuuuuuuse meeee!!!"
I will do this even when I am with only one of the grand kids, but still blame the burp on someone who isn't anywhere near us.
This was the situation Brynlee (our youngest grand daughter) found herself in recently when I cut loose with one of my patented burps. Immediately I blurted out..."Arianna" (the absent grand daughter) to which Brynlee reacted to in an unusual manner.
Brynlee walked the few feet that separated us and put her hands up to both sides of my cheeks to make sure I could look her squarely in the eyes..."No grandpa, this is me , Brynlee, not Arianna...."
She must have thought I had a sudden onset of Alzheimers to the point that I didn't even know which grand daughter was which. It was a precious moment, but I am still following the same method of blaming someone else for my burping moments

We weren't angels/Wielding an ax

2008-03-08T07:06:00.000-08:00

"Bet you can"t"...how many ill advised, youthful activities have started with this challenge? We were at the sandbox just south of the house with Curtis Scott to see if he could successfully accomplish the dare we had issued to him. The sandbox was a square made of 2X10 planks keeping the sand in its rightful place. We had gone into the house to steal the wind up alarm clock that sat on Dad's side of the bed in Mom and Dad's room. The dare went something like this..."Bet you can't chop through that big board in 5 minutes using this ax..." and we were set to go.
Curtis must have been 8 or 9 at the time. He was older than Dennis, but younger than Vic and Dennis at this time would have been 7 or so.
We waited for the big hand to get on an easy to calculate spot for the chop fest to start. Ready, set, go!!! The arms started swinging, the ax was falling and the wood chips were flying. It was an impressive sight to behold. Curtis did not have a lumberjack body though, the sweat started streaming down his face and the heavy breathing soon set in. The blistering pace of the falling ax slowed considerably and the flying wood chips were becoming more the size of sawdust. When we let him know his five minutes were up he wasn't even halfway through the 2X10 and we let out a short hoot of triumph knowing we had given a challenge he couldn't meet... he dropped the ax and walked away without saying anything.
As he walked away I felt the urge to try to finish off the board so I picked up the ax and tried swinging it myself. It was evident after only one swing that this was a feat quite beyond my 5 year old body. The ax hit at a crooked angle and the ax spun out of my grasp.
Dennis tried the same thing, but having the onset of Muscular Dystrophy his body also was not up to the task of ax swinging so there we stood, looking at the ravine now lodged in the middle of that sandbox board. We turned and looked into each others eyes and both had the instant realization that certain adults would not be as thrilled with this activity as we were. Unfortunately for us there was no easy way to glue all those wood chips back together so we put the ax back into the shed and hoped that no one would notice...like that was going to happen! When we were asked if we had chopped the sandbox up we were truthful in saying it wasn't us. When we were asked if we knew who did, the truth came out. We tried to blame it all on Curtis, but all excuses fell on deaf ears when it was found out Dennis and I started the entire fiasco with those convicting words..."Bet you can't"...we reaped the punishment dealt out by the parental justice system of our house...a quick paddling by Dad.

Happy surprise anniversary

2008-03-05T19:09:00.000-08:00

It has been awhile since I danced last but Megan was very forgiving when I stepped on her toes

Dot was thrilled when Conner came up and asked if she would like to dance
Amy said we looked like we were enjoying ourselves,,,,you know what??? We were
Hello...let me introduce you to our crew Megan and Conner are the 10 year olds standing in the back. Stockton (standing) will be 8 , he was our favorite waiter. Zander is sitting on Dot's lap and Garrett is sitting on on mine.

Amy, our oldest daughter, invited us over to join them for dinner last night. Little did we know it was a special dinner to help us celebrate our 33rd anniversary. Actually, our anniversary was last month but we spent the special day watching Amy's children while she was having a wonderful time with her husband on a cruise. They felt guilty for having us do this for them so they organized the special dinner for us. It was a complete surprise!! The boys greeted us at the door with their suits on and ushered us to our table which had candle light and roses. It was a hoot but also very cute to see them with cloths placed over their arms as they tried their best to be professional waiters. They were careful to download many of my favorite songs onto their ipod and were very attentive while we ate our dinner. Niel...our compliments to the chef.
After 33 years of married life we both consider our family to be the greatest blessing of our life. Thanks guys for making this belated anniversary celebration our best ever.

Dumb Moves\Mom and Roberta

2008-03-02T09:51:00.000-08:00

There was one day when Roberta decided she wanted to join us out side for our daily explorations. I think most times we just headed out the door and whatever we saw first is what we put our efforts into. It must have been spring time when the ground was not frozen from the winter, nor sun baked from the hot summer temperatures, the first thing we saw was a shovel so we decided to find some buried treasure or some similar artifact. The truth is, one hardly ever finds buried treasure unless it was put there by themselves at a previous time so we had to be content with a goodly supply of earthworms we had dug up.
Roberta was a youngster and you know how excited they can get just from the simplest of experiences, so Berta took a close inspection of the worms and a curious probe into the texture of their skin and the reactions they got from her blowing on them, touching them, you can probably imagine the scene.
When she started off away from us with the small collection of worms in her hand we wanted to know where she was going, so we inquired as much after her.
“I'm going to show Mamma” was her reply.
We could never see the need to let Mom in on our escapades, after all, such information usually got us into trouble so we tagged along just in case we had to do some explaining and defend ourselves.
Berta marched right up to Mom and thrust her little hand up and into Mom's face as best she could, displaying the little collection of nature she was holding there in her palm for Mom's consideration.
I know Mom doesn't have any fear of little creatures as harmless as worms, but she had to make some kind of reaction to the offering that was now in front of her. It might seem a common thing for a boy to have in his hands, but for a little girl? Mom pulled back in mock horror, opened her eyes widely and let out a forced “EEEK!!!” while throwing up her arms as if a big, ugly mouse was being forced upon her.... bad move.
Roberta now seeing Mom's repulsion at these poor little critters figured she must be in some danger, so she immediately dropped the whole pile of the little slimies onto the floor and stepped back quite aways to have a safe distance from the squirming monsters.
This wasn't quite the reaction Mom hoped to instill, but couldn't do anything after that to let Roberta know she could do other such things that were natural activities if she were going to be a tomboy. From that day on I don't think Berta ever followed us out again to participate in our world of being boys. As a result she turned out to be much more interested in curls, frills, lace and anything princessy.

Dumb Moves\Dad's Turn

2008-02-29T06:41:00.000-08:00

The first job I remember Dad having was that of a delivery driver for Clover Club Potato Chips. I don't know if he took anyone else on the route with him or if he took me out more than this one particular time. I just remember it being very, very memorable.
Delivery trucks really aren't meant to have passengers. If I wanted to sit, it had to be on one of the steps that led down to the out door to the right side of the truck, much like a school bus. If I sat on any of those steps there was nothing to see , but if I stood up to look out the window there was nothing to hold onto so I became a swaying body trying to keep my balance while standing next to Dad there in the front center of his delivery truck. Things were mostly fine on the open road as we were headed to Durango, but the balancing act got very tricky once we were inside the city with all those stop lights, lane changes, turns, etc. It was becoming a fun challenge to change the position of my feet or the leaning of my body as if I were on a surf board trying to navigate a big wave towards the beach. Unfortunately for me a big wipeout occurred! There is just no planning on an inattentive driver who is trying to make a quick lane change and cuts you off...Dad had to instinctively react as the driver to the right of us started to pull over and cut him off the lane he was in. As Dad slammed on the brakes I took a face smash into the front windshield and as he jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid a collision I did a twisting feet over head tumble down the stairs and landed against the door on the bottom step upside down and almost unable to move as if I were a square peg pounded into a round hole.
The first words out of Dad's mouth were directed at the incompetent driver and not fit to be listed here. Being at the steering wheel in the middle of traffic he couldn't come to my aid and as I was attempting to aright myself he started driving again which caused my misplaced body to take one more fall so I was now lying flat on that bottom step. This allowed me to be able to jump up in a normal standing position there at the bottom of the truck, so I turned and looked up at Dad who was making quick turns of his head from me to the road, from me to the road, in an effort to avoid any more catastrophes.
All this took place in about two seconds. When Dad saw I had survived my in-flight acrobatics the look on his face changed from anger at the driver to instant relief. I must have had a befuddled look on my face because he broke out into laughter at the situation. This brought sudden anger to me that he would find my plight so amusing so I pushed my head in his direction and yelled out..."What did you do that for?" as if it were all his fault (does this remind you of the war with Vic??). This made Dad laugh even louder at my theatrics. All in all it was a combination of dumb moves on everyones part.

Dumb Moves II

2008-02-24T07:04:00.000-08:00

On the east side of the house in which we were living at the time was a tree I loved to climb in. The branches seemed to grow straight out from the trunk, allowing me to climb into the tree as if I were going up a ladder. With my slight build, the branches didn’t bend much even if I got out onto the outer parts of the highest branches. As I got better and faster at climbing the tree, I relished the ability to jump from branch to branch as if I were a monkey or a squirrel. I have seen movie clips where even monkeys can fall from their perches and that is why this particular tree climb sticks in my memory. I was in the upper most part of the tree and I started to fall. Whether it was from me trying to jump from one branch to another I don’t recall. I do remember the fall. As my body flopped downward from branch to branch I tried desperately to grab hold of anything to save myself, but I had no such luck. It was as if I were a pinball and gravity was pulling me to the bottom of the machine. As I hit the lowest of all the branches, I landed on it almost squarely with my face down and I straddled it with my legs and arms. This position only lasted a split second as my body spun there on that last branch and I found myself upside down, still straddling the branch. My arms were the first to let go. Half a moment later my legs parted also and I fell the remaining few feet head first and I landed in the grass squarely on my head. Most all parts of my body had scratches from the fall as I scraped against all the branches I had fallen through. I laid there momentarily, trying to decide if I were alive or not. My neck had such a pain in it from the final landing I knew I was indeed alive. This fall didn't deter me from tree climbing as I had a similar experience several years later while I was trying to showoff my tree climbing abilities for a cute neighborhood girl. They were both truly dumb, painful moments, even for a five year old.

Dumb moves

2008-02-22T06:57:00.000-08:00

There was a shed to the south side of the house. As a youngster it looked quite large, though considering the activity we used it for, it couldn’t have been very tall. It had a flat top roof and we accessed the roof by climbing a ladder attached to the building on the north side of the shed. We decided it was a perfect place to play “King of the Mountain” All you had to do to be king of the mountain was to be the last one left standing on the shed. One by one we would throw each other off the roof. That’s right! The losers were physically thrown from the roof top to the ground below. I have always been small for my age so it wasn’t uncommon for me to be the first one thrown overboard. Curtis Scott was a husky kid and as I recall, was always the king. You would think there would be some serious injuries from this activity, but the only wound I ever remember anyone receiving was when Dennis slipped off the ladder, gashing his leg in the fall. Maybe we were catlike and always landed perfectly. At any rate, I remember hating to be the loser so I would immediately ascend the ladder once more only to be thrown overboard time and time again. I think maybe that is why my joints are aching right now just reliving this particular activity.

Chocolate Wars/The Pecking Order

2008-02-17T08:35:00.000-08:00

Every time Mom would bake a cake or a batch of brownies all of us, her children would line up like ravenous vultures to finish off what batter did not make it into the oven.
Mom knew the pleasure we got from getting a preview taste of the upcoming treat as it was entering the oven so she was always generous in the amount of batter we shared among ourselves. The big spoon she used to scrape the batter into the pans was reserved for Vic. Dennis and I would each get one of the beaters. Roberta got to dab her finger into the the mixture straight from the pan just before it went into the oven.
The first time Ronnie wanted to join in the tradition of batter eating, it had us all scratching our heads. The routine had been set, the pecking order established, still, there he stood with that pathetic look on his face that made us all feel guilty as we wrapped our tongues around the different utensils that the pecking order dictated was ours. Although Mom was generous with what was left on our individual licking spots, she was very thorough in making sure that almost every molecule of batter was taken from the mixing bowl. We pushed the bowl in Ronnie's direction and told him if he wanted any he would just have to stick his head down into the bowl and lick off what ever he could find.
He was thrilled at the blessing of finding his spot in the pecking chain and stuck his little head down inside the bowl and started lapping at the bottom and sides just as a thirsty dog would go after the last drops of water in its water dish. It was amazing to us Ronnie could get so many stains on his t-shirt from such little batter. I don't suppose I need to mention that his hair was quite matted down as well from the chocolate treat. Mom made a quick gasp at the site of the chocolate mess in front of her, but couldn't resist a smile at seeing how overjoyed he was to know he had a spot in the pecking order in the baking cycle.

Chocolate Wars

2008-02-13T12:09:00.000-08:00

I remember one of my first sleep outs. I remember it being only Dennis, me and the stars....and our desire for chocolate milk. We flopped a blanket over the branch of a tree and put rocks on each corner to hold it in place. We now had our own little tent. Dennis excused himself so he could go into the house and use the bathroom. When he came back he had a tall glass of chocolate milk he had whipped together by putting chocolate powder into a glass of milk. I thought it looked very tasty and being a chocolate and sugar addict even at that early age, I asked Dennis if I could have a drink. His reply was something in the manner of, “If you want a drink, get it your self. I made this for me.”
I promptly raced into the house and whipped up a big glass of the yummy liquid for myself and went out to join Dennis in a good, long brotherly drink. By the time I got out to our sleeping area, Dennis had already finished off his drink. He asked that I wait a moment longer to drink my quaff while he went inside to get another glass and then we’d enjoy our drinks together. Upon his arrival he boasted he had used up the last of the milk which meant he was going to be able to drink twice as much as I did. Booo!!! No fair!!! What a blow to my sense of justice and equality! I was not one to believe such bad news, so after drinking our drinks I went back inside to see for myself. Sadly, it was true. All the milk was gone. I felt it a travesty I had been cheated of an equal share of a wonderful, chocolate treat, so I did what any creative child would do. I filled up my glass with cold water, added a goodly amount of Nestle's Quick chocolate powder and went out to show Dennis he had nothing to crow about. It tasted terrible (this is probably why I remember this particular sleep out), but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had more than I did.

We weren't angels/Getting buzzed

2008-02-09T18:21:00.000-08:00

There was one particular day I remember before I was old enough to be in school. I remember getting hold of the hair clippers Mom used to trim us up with and turning them on myself. As many children do, I thought I’d try my hand at being a hair stylist…I failed miserably! I started at my forehead and cut a swath from the top, left side of my head, taking out a goodly amount of hair. I looked as if I had started chemo treatments.
What is a parent to do with such a hair style? You have the choice of leaving it as it is, gathering giggles and the pointing of fingers, or you shave it all off, gathering stares. Mom opted for the giggles and left the wide, bald spot to grow back in as time passed. I looked like such an oddity that Vic decided it was a great time to take me to school as his “show and tell” object. I remember several of the girls giggling and saying I looked soooo cute. They rubbed their fingers on my new bald spot and laughed out loud at the feeling of the stubble. I wasn’t quite sure if I should feel humiliated or honored by all the attention I was receiving. I will tell you this, it did cause such a commotion that the memory of it all is still vivid in my mind after all these years. Just the mention of show and tell makes me quiver. I’ve never tried cutting my own hair since.

We weren't angels/Movie Day

2008-02-06T06:28:00.000-08:00

Going to watch a matinee movie was always a special treat. I suppose like many of you, there was a special day in the month when Vic, Dennis and I were allowed to spend an afternoon in the movie house watching an assortment of monster movies, westerns and an occasional mystery movie.
There were a few preliminaries that we always indulged in as we made our preparations for such expeditions. I always have considered myself a normal person so please let me know if you did the same thing I did.
First, I always made sure I had my slingshot in my back pocket.
Secondly, before entering the show house I would stop at the neighborhood store and buy all the chewing gum I could with what little extra money I had.
Third, I'd try to get up into one of the chairs at the front of the theater.
Now we are ready for the fun so let the show begin.
As the lights darkened and the movie came up on the screen I would pop one of the pieces of chewing gum into my mouth. I always loved the first bites of chewing gum. All that sugar separating itself from the gum and making its delicious trip down into my stomach. You know how fast that sugar leaves though and then you are left with this tasteless bullet of gum in your mouth.
Did I say bullet? Of course I did, that is why I would always bring my slingshot along. After much of the sugar was gone from the gum it left a perfect little projectile that fit nicely into the leather tongue of my slingshot. The theater was always dark enough that I could aim the slingshot from my hip and launch my gum wad up at the theater screen and no one was any the wiser that some dastardly deed had just been committed.
Most times I couldn't tell if my gum wad even made it up to the screen. If it arrived, did it stick? If it did stick, was it on a brown tree or the black monster? I usually couldn't tell.
During one western starring, John Wayne I hit right on target. It was one of those close-up scenes where John Wayne's face covered the entire screen. I pulled back the rubber strings on my slingshot and let go with a very fine blob of gooey gum. Suddenly out of no where, John Wayne had a new mole on the left side of his forehead above his eye.
If you had been there that day it wouldn't have been a noticeable addition to his features but, I saw it immediately. That was the day I got the better of John Wayne.

We weren't angels/rubber bands

2008-02-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

At an early age I learned the wonder of the rubber band. With a handful of rubber bands you can wage a surprisingly intricate battle with your brothers and friends. If you put a rubber band on the tip of your index finger and pull it back as if you were shooting an arrow, it becomes a formidable projectile that can create an immediate sting. We would wage wars of hide and seek using the rubber bands to take each other out from our hiding places while in seek mode.
A discovery Dennis made was that a rubber band is deadly to a fly. While it might cause a sting for human beings it is right down disaster for a fly. A fly hit dead on by a rubber band becomes quite a squish mark on any window. I can see now as an adult why Mom didn't want us shooting flies off the kitchen counter but you know we would do all the shooting we could while her back was turned. We would roam the house looking for flies in every window and corner. There were times when the windows looked utterly ghastly after a successful hunt. When the flies were all gone for the day we'd simply go back to shooting each other. Yucchhhh. Now I”m having flashbacks of all those contaminated rubber bands hitting me in the face close to my mouth.
I continue the tradition of rubber band shooting still, trying to shoot the grandchildren as they scream and run away from the soft weapon aimed at them. They try to shoot me back, but are still trying to get the proper positioning of a rubber band to the finger.

A blessed man

2008-01-31T15:30:00.000-08:00

Birthday time is coming up for Brooke on the third. As I look back on my life I will admit that my daughters have given me great joy and satisfaction. Brooke is our second daughter and has been a bundle of energy from day one. Well, maybe after she learned to start talking and walking. Brooke has such a love for people and for animals. For those of you who know my feelings about animals, you should know I am envious for the empathy and concern Brooke has for all creatures. Brooke has such a bubbly personality and uplifting character that I can't help but be proud to be her father when all who know her say they consider her to be an example to them of how to all types of people should be treated. Brooke, I love you and hope your birthday is wonderful.
All you others can add a post for her now..........

We weren't angels/Roadblock

2008-01-27T09:02:00.000-08:00

One day we decided to build a roadblock Dean-boy style. It seems every place we lived there was a wood pile of discarded boards, many of which had nails in them. We got the great idea we could drag those pieces of wood out into the road and lay them end to end, all the way across the road with the nails poking up. After doing this we had planned to sit and wait until someone drove over the nails and flattened a tire or two. In our minds we could see this being a very funny event and had decided we’d laugh out loud at anyone dumb enough to drive onto our spiked road block. Victor, the oldest brother at age 9, Dennis and I strategically placed the nail infested boards end to end across both lanes of traffic and then went to our spot to wait for all the action to begin. We waited and waited and waited.....Unfortunately for us, or maybe I should say FORTUNATELY for us, Mancos isn’t a bustling town so no one gave us a chance to see if our clever plan would actually work. Not a single car or truck drove by. I remember getting bored of the wait and we moved on to some other imbecilic activity. It only occurred to me now that those boards might still be there…I don’t remember moving them off the road.

Early memories

2008-01-24T07:38:00.000-08:00

One of the earliest memories I have is from the time we were living in the theater in Mancos after having moved there from Denver. To get to our living area we would have to walk a tall flight of stairs that led from the street level up to the wide open audience area of the theater which we called our home. The particular area we were living in was the dressing area behind the stage. As children are prone to do, I’d consider it a personal challenge to race Dennis to see who could get to the top of those stairs first. I was closing in on my fifth birthday. Dennis was 21 months older than I was and being such, he should have won every race. Still, no matter how many times we did it the race would go something like this: Dennis would take an early lead befitting his age and body size compared to me, but at less than halfway up the stairs he would have most of his strength spent and I would start gaining ground. At the ¾ mark we would be even and Dennis would put forth an extra human effort to hold off my charge, but it wouldn’t be enough. In the last several steps I would pass him every time, leaving him disgusted and exasperated that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t beat his little brother in a race up the stairs. This was just one of the early signs his body didn’t have the normal strength and development of a child his age and would soon lead to Mom and Dad taking him to a doctor to get an answer to questions they were already asking themselves.... Is there something physically wrong with our son?

Excitement I Don't Remember/2

2008-01-20T07:05:00.000-08:00

(If you missed the story of my finger and the chiropractor you'll want to go back and read that to appreciate this follow up post today)
After my hand had sufficiently healed, I decided I wanted to be a helper with Mom once again and do everything I could to help her make a batch of cookies. I was standing on a stool that had been placed next to the counter where all the baking ingredients awaited my helpful hands. I have always had a small body and short arms so I had to lean forward to get to a knife I was hoping to use. As I leaned forward, the laws of physics once again kicked into motion. My legs pushed the stool backwards away from my body which kicked in the law of gravity. This pulled my body downward causing me to hit my forehead on the counter with a big thud. My legs, now being freed from the stool, made a forward flight to the drawers and stopped there. Naturally, the top part of my body wanted to follow the stool, causing me to throw back my arms in an effort to catch my balance. This caused me to fall over backwards off the counter towards the tile floor. A body in motion tends to stay in motion until acted upon by another source. My body stopped falling as soon as it hit the tile floor, with the back of my head taking the brunt of the landing.
Mom reacted as quickly as she could, but was not near fast enough to save me from all these laws of physics that had acted upon me. The medical result from all this was that I had rendered myself unconscious. Mom thought I was dead when I didn’t move at all and yelled for her mother, Grandma Matlock, to come save us both. When the two of them checked me out they thought I was not breathing so Grandma Matlock came to the same conclusion as Mom, that I must be dying and action had to be taken.
Well, I was a child before CPR had been discovered, so rather than blow air into my lungs, the thought came into Grandma’s head that if she grabbed me by my heels and spun me around in a circle the blood would flow to my brain and I would regain consciousness. Before she could even think through the usefulness of this maneuver I was up in the air being spun around by my feet. After two circles she put me down to see if I was back to normal……..I wasn’t. I was still out cold, so it was decided it was time to go see Doctor Chiropractor again.
I was quickly bundled up and hauled to the doctor’s office and he commenced to decide if he had the proper talents to rectify the present medical problem I found myself in. After a very short look at me he said I was beyond his help and I needed to be taken to the hospital with all the speed Mom and Grandma could muster.
The closest hospital at the time was in Durango, so off we started for the 40 mile drive over the curves and hills. All the while it appeared I wasn’t breathing, but my color was still mostly natural so no one knew how close I was to death.
As might be expected, the drive seemed to last forever to Mom and Grandma, but being a child and in a coma it was not a worry for me. Of course, the fact that I’m sharing this story with you tells you I survived the drama of the day. Mom says I finally fluttered my eyes and regained some consciousness as she was carrying me through the parking lot and a few raindrops hit my face to help bring me back from my hour long, self induced nap.

I have never felt so humbled....

2008-01-17T14:52:00.000-08:00

Being at the side of my wonderful wife at the birth of all three of our daughters was a most wonderful experience. As I was able to take each of them into my hands and look into their newborn faces I must admit that at no other time in my life have I felt more humble. To know that each of them would look to me the rest of their lives for guidance and that I had the immense responsibility of watching over them for decades humbled me as well.
Amy, our oldest has her birthday on the 19th. Might I say of Amy that I have gained much strength from her as she has withstood some of the hardest challenges life can throw at any of us and has come through with a positive attitude and the willingness to still give back to people in her life. Amy is excited about life and the future. Amy I love you and hope to be around for many more of your birthdays...Dad
You others can give her what ever wish you want as a comment

Excitement I don't remember.....

2008-01-16T06:15:00.000-08:00

While Dad was on military assignment in Korea, Mom, Vic, Dennis and I stayed with my Grandma Matlock in her house Mancos, Colorado. This is a story Mom has related to me when I was two years old or so.
It seems in Mancos the only doctor was a chiropractor. A man of some medical training, but not fully prepared for the visits I made to him.
One day Mom was doing the laundry and I wanted to be a good helper. I was my usual curious self and I was looking up under the washing machine trying to figure out what made all the noise and why the crazy thing vibrated the way it did. The actual engine that makes a washing machine a washing machine has fan belts and pulleys of course. Having the mind set that I did, I decided to see if I could stop the machine by stopping the fan belt, so I grabbed a hold of the belt in an attempt to stop it. Not being fully schooled in the laws of physics I immediately learned the pull of the fan belt was stronger than the resistance of my fingers and the belt pulled my hand up and through the pulley severing off the top of the ring finger on my right hand.
Mom immediately halted her washing duties, put the top of my finger back into place as best she could and hurried me over to the chiropractor to see if his talents were good enough to sew the top of my finger into its natural place.
Although he was not a true medical doctor he got many calls like this for his services. If the situation was one he thought he could handle he made use of his talents and rectified the problem. If it was beyond his talents he would tell the patient (or my case--Mom) they needed to go see a more qualified medical person. Now I ask you, how hard can it be to sew the top of a toddler’s finger back into place anyway?
Mom had washing to get back to and didn’t need any further delays, so Dr. Chiropractor got his sewing materials together and spliced the tip of my finger back into its proper place. After all these years there is still the scar of the stitches to go along with the scar of my severed finger. I think he did a mighty fine job because I have full feeling in every part of that finger and it grew back together nice and straight. Thanks Doc.

We weren't angels/Roberta part2

2008-01-13T09:39:00.000-08:00

When Berta had been newly potty trained and was aware of the fact when any of us, her brothers, went potty we did so standing up, she asked why she had to sit down when she went potty. We informed her she could stand up as well if she wanted and the next time she had to go potty she should let us watch. (It wasn’t because we were perverts) The next time she felt the urge, she invited us to watch. We howled with laughter when she puddled down her legs and onto the floor. She was sooooo proud, she had to grab Mom and show her what a big girl she was now. Our howls turned to whimpers when we saw Mom coming. She was more amused than angry so we all had a good laugh at Roberta’s expense.

We weren't angels/Roberta

2008-01-12T18:04:00.000-08:00

When Roberta was nearing the age of 3 I figured she was fair game for one of my first pranks.
We had a kitchen sink with a slow drip. In order to keep the area under the sink dry, we had a bucket positioned to catch the dripping water. As I recall, it was my duty to take the bucket out and dump it every day and then replace it back under the sink. True to my procrastinating nature, I went a day or two without emptying the bucket. When it occurred to me to check on my assigned container I found it full to the brim with water, ready to overflow. Berta happened to be standing by me when I did this bucket check and she stood close, looking at me with a vacant stare. One of those, “I don’t know what you are trying to do, but I’m going to watch you anyway” looks.
I thought this a good time to test her naiveté.
“You can see this bucket is full can’t you Berta?” I said as I began to lay the plot. She shook her head yes.
“Do you know why I am supposed to empty the bucket?” I asked, knowing she had no clue why. She shook her head no.
“If this bucket overflows, the water will get out onto the floor and we will all drown.” I said in full seriousness.
“Do you see how full it is now? I think I’ve waited too long. It will soon overflow and then we’ll all die,” I passed on to her, awaiting her reaction."
She still had that blank stare on her face. I wasn’t sure she fully understood the meaning of death, drowning or any other d-word for that matter. I could see if this plot was to take hold I had to insert some drama.
“Here Berta, help me move this bucket out so we can empty it,” I asked of her. “Be sure not to spill any water because then we will really be in trouble."
The look on her face changed from a vacant stare to instant apprehension---“be in trouble”---now those were words she could relate with.
As we struggled with the bucket, a goodly amount of water spilled out onto the floor. It was an amount I could easily mop up with a rag or two, but this was the exact moment I was waiting for. In an overly dramatic manner I said, “Oh no!! Now we are in trouble! We’ve got water on the floor and we are all going to drown!"
I stepped in the water, pretended to be overcome by some mystical power it held, and I fell to the floor trying my best to act as if I were in a life or death fight to save myself from the middle of the ocean. It was my intent to make Berta think I was drowning. It worked. In fact, it worked too well!! She broke into an hysterical shriek and began to wail, after all, she knew she was really in trouble now. Not only had we spilled some water, but I was overcome by some water demon.
It took Mom merely seconds to come galloping into the kitchen to rescue her screaming daughter. It was long enough to allow me to stand up, but not long enough to get over to Berta and stuff a rag into her mouth. Had Roberta had sufficient vocabulary to tell Mom what had happened I’m sure I would have gotten a good paddling for this prank. Mom first asked Berta what was wrong, but she just whimpered and cried a little more, offering no words at all. I’m sure I had a huge look of guilt on my face, but when Mom asked me what had happened I shrugged my shoulders and tried to look dumb (most all you know it is easy for me to look dumb). I must have had the look of a complete idiot as no discipline was meted out to me or Roberta. I think Mom was relieved no one was bleeding.She took the bucket of water out and dumped it herself.

We weren't angels/Vic

2008-01-10T08:04:00.000-08:00

As a five year old child I would spend an afternoon at the theater with my older brothers Vic and Dennis. One particular afternoon we headed off to see some monster marathon and upon entering the movie house I had been inflicted with a mild case of laryngitis. I knew it would be useless to scream at any movie monsters, so during the shows I was content to just sit in my chair as tense as a frozen log in winter.As we exited the theater and started on our way home we passed Mrs. Johnson, an energetic, happy old lady who greeted us with..."Hello boys".
We had been taught to be polite and that a return address was expected, so I tried to get out a "Hello Mrs. Johnson" of my own to mind my manners.
To my surprise, the greeting came out full of energy and in strong voice. It seemed my laryngitis was miraculously gone. In a joyous state I walked along the street continuing in my polite mode..."Hello Mrs. Johnson...good morning...hi there..."
I was talking out loud to no one as a result of the surprising rediscovery of my voice.Vic and Dennis had slowed to a near stop and let me continue on ahead of them, much amuzed at my babbling conversation with an invisible woman. After five seconds of walking and talking I realized there was a good round of laughing going on behind me. When I turned and realized my brothers were having a good laugh at my expense I became immdiately outraged and ran back to inflict a wound on their laughing lips.Dennis was closer to my age and height so I was going to hit him first. I reached my arm back and was getting ready to land a big, right handed haymaker when Vic stepped in to save Dennis. Vic caught my hand in flight towards Dennis's mouth and easily pushed me up against the store building we were passing by. This only enraged me more so I took a swing at Vic with my left arm that was free. I hit him only once in the chest when he took my left arm and also pinned it up against the building. I had a nasty reputation as being a volcano as a little child and was not about to let this chaining of my arms end my angry eruption, so I started kicking Vic in the shins as violently as I good seeing how I couldn't hit him with my arms. Vic had been in battles with me before and knew how to counter act the flailing of my legs. He simply pushed his knees into my legs, thus completely nailing me to the side of the building.
There we were, the three, hardly united Musketeers. I was completely harnessed now by Vic physically, but still had another weapon ready to unleash upon him. My mouth was now working very well as the laryngitis had disappeared and I stuck my face forward and shouted out as loudly as I could...
"Shit!!!"
Vic's face had an instant look of shock. I could see I now had the upper hand.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
I started yelling out as loudly as I could.Vic would have none of this profanity so he let go of my right hand so he could cover my mouth to shut me up. With my hand now free I started pummeling his face as best I could to get my anger out of me and inflict some just punishment. Again, Vic found himself in a dilemma. Should he uncover my mouth and protect himself? Of course he should!!! I was now beating the crap out of him.
When Vic grabbed my hand to push it back against the building to save himself I started with my profanities again...
"Shit shit shit..."
There was no winning the battle for Vic so he let me go completely and backed away about five feet. I was steaming mad, but had used up about all the energy I had left so I just stood there looking at both Vic and Dennis. Dennis had been a bystander through this short war Vic and I had just waged and was the first one to start in with conversation.
"I'm going to tell Mom and Dad...."
I knew I was in trouble.My anger subsided immediately as I made a plan of how I was going to run away from home...it seemed the only way I could escape the long arm of parental law.

We weren't angels

2008-01-06T07:29:00.000-08:00

When I was months within my 5th birthday we made a move from Denver down to Mancos, Colorado where I spent my youth. We Dean boys would start our reputation of being energetic and unsupervised. Without a job at the time, Dad and the family had to take whatever shelter we could find so the first spot we lived in when we moved to Mancos was in the town theater. It was a theater for live productions and our living quarters were in the back dressing rooms and the areas behind the stage. It was very roomy, but sure wasn't what you would call a home. The theater itself was right in the middle of town and the part we lived in was on the second story. We made all parts of the theater our playground.Still, there was the whole world of Mancos outside the theater that was waiting for my brothers and me to explore. We had been forbidden to leave the confines of the theater, so we contented ourselves at opening up the windows that over looked the main street of Mancos. The entire theater was on the second level so we had as high a view point as anyone in the whole town when we looked out from these windows. We would spy on the different people as they walked up and down the street and gaze down on the tops of the passing cars. And then, of course, we had one of those amazing flashes of Dean boy ingenuity that seemed to pop into our heads at a moments notice. How much practice would it take to actually be able to spit on someone from the second level of a building? It was a question Dennis, my older brother by two years, and I wanted an immediate answer for so we commenced to start spitting at everyone who passed under the windows. At first we were spitting way too late as the little bombs of saliva would land on the sidewalk far behind any unsuspecting pedestrian. We used our common sense to time our spit so the saliva bombs and the walking human target arrived at a certain point at the same time. When we finally perfected our spit drop attack we found it necessary to perfect our retreating method. We never actually hit anyone as I recall, but there was one particular lady that almost got hit. The projectile of saliva must have missed her by inches, coming down right in front of her face, causing her to stop immediately in her tracks. Dennis and I had our heads well outside the window looking down on our little battlefield below us. Our lack of common sense about the law of gravity didn’t worry us any and the thought that the lady might look up and see us gawking out that 2nd story window didn’t occur to us either….until she started craning her head up skyward to see if there were any clouds in the sky!!! Our hearts started an immediate pounding and we pulled our heads back into the safety of the theater faster than I ever thought we could move. We sat there just inside the window for maybe 5 minutes to see if the lady would walk up the long flight of stairs into the theater and give us a verbal or physical lashing for our antics……she never arrived and we stopped our aerial assault on the townspeople of Mancos…..for a day or two.

Two Christmas stories, one short, one long, this is the long

2007-12-25T12:51:00.000-08:00

When I reflect back on the many Christmas seasons I have been able to enjoy I am able to go all the way back in my memory to the time I was 5. It was a very difficult time for our family but being the tender age of 5 I was very much shielded and innocent in knowing the plight our family was in. At this time Dad was strongly affected by alcohol, we had recently moved back to Mancos from the Denver area and Dad was no longer in the military. It was Christmas time and the family was in a dire financial situation. Mom got us all organized and up to the town Christmas celebration where free bags of goodies were going to be given out to all attending children. I can't remember how the rest of the holiday played out, but I do know it became a time period Mom has said was the worst in her life.
As we got up to the area where all the activity was to take place there was a big buzz about Santa making a visit, which of course got me very excited, I was a 5 year old after all!! When the little bags of candy had been distributed Mom went and asked for a few extra bags and then told us all we were headed back home.
Headed back home? What was she thinking? Santa was supposed to be arriving shortly and she wanted to go back home? I pitched a fit and let her know that I was staying until Santa arrived. Little did I know that any of the gifts that Santa was going to be giving out were gifts that had already been purchased and put into Santa's sack by parents or other family members.
The only reason Mom had taken us there in the first place was to get some of those free bags of goodies because she knew that would be the only Christmas we would enjoy that year. We already had those goodies and she was all for getting away. I persisted in dragging my feet and killing time and I won out before Mom did, because Santa made his entrance before Mom could make her exit. Once every one else saw Santa, Mom was outvoted and all us Dean kids stood around waiting for Santa to hand out our presents....presents which didn't exist.
As the pile of presents finally dwindled down to nothing I and my siblings were the only ones left and I'm sure we had crushed looks on our faces. Mom must have been even more saddened at the scene than we were. I can remember her saying, "Now can we go home?" in an exasperated tone and we started to make our way towards the exit.
For my part I was so very confused. I knew I wasn't a perfect kid, but to not get anything at all from Santa???...Well, it just didn't seem right.
I saw Grandma Matlock coming towards us and she had a few words with Mom that I didn't hear.
Santa yelled out something to the effect..."Wait!!! Are the Dean children here? Santa must have left somethings out of his bag"
Our spirits perked up immediately and we did a quick turn around to ran back to Santa. He had several things in his hand that were not wrapped and called us by name handing each of us a different item. A pair of socks. A T-shirt. A pair of underwear....Hardly gifts that would excite a child, but still an offering that let us know we were not completely forgotten.
When I think of Grandma Matlock I always remember her, knowing she was the one who stepped in and did that last second shopping to save the Christmas trip to the town celebration....Merry Christmas

Two Christmas stories, one long, one short, this is the short

2007-12-25T12:38:00.000-08:00

All three of our daughters took piano lessons and performed in different recitals through the years. Many recitals are especially arranged at Christmas time and the music adds to the holiday season. One particular year Brooke had a partner and she learned a lovely version of "What Child Is This", a Christmas song I truly do enjoy.
Wanting to encourage and expand her piano experience I arranged to have her play the song again as part of our church's Christmas program and talked Brooke into letting me be her partner for the performance. At the appointed time Brooke and I got up to the piano and started the number in a very positive and moving way. We were doing a wonderful job in adding a beautiful touch to the Christmas program, but then I went into wander mode. For what ever reason I looked away from the music for a brief second and when I looked back to the pages I lost track of where I was at....my playing stopped. I had to confess to Brooke I was lost and asked..."Where are we?"
Brooke gave me a sharp glare and replied, "You're dead meat!!"
She then pointed out the spot we should be at and we finished off the number without any other distractions still adding a nice touch to the Christmas program.
I still get a chuckle every time I reflect on that moment when I got that threat from my daughter during the holiday season....Merry Christmas

One more Christmas thought...my song

2007-12-21T05:33:00.000-08:00

The time leading up to that last Christmas that Dennis was alive, was an emotional time for me. Doctors had said they didn't think he would even survive to see the holidays and in my mind I wanted to believe he would prove them wrong and make a complete recovery by returning to his previous normal lifestyle.
Still, the truth was, deep inside I was quite sure it was going to be his last Christmas so I wanted to do something special. I sat down and wrote the following poem for him and set it to music. At a later time I sang it for Roberta and when she heard it, she cried openly and said it was such a wonderful tribute. Now that Roberta has passed on as well I think of both her and Dennis each Christmas season and consider this to be their song.
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Once again its Christmas time
I can see you in my mind
Sitting by our Christmas tree
Pointing out your gift to me

I count those days as the best I ever knew...
Spending early Christmas days with you....

Now the years have passed us by
You have children, I have mine
When they ask about our home
Once again my thoughts they roam

I count those days as the best I ever knew...
Spending early Christmas days with you....

Oh yes, its Christmas time
And I still see you.......in my mind.....
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This Christmas season be sure and appreciate your loved ones. Let them know you care. We never know when it will be the last holiday we can spend with them....Merry Christmas to you all...my love to you as well

I had a mammogram....

2007-12-17T00:15:00.000-08:00

One morning about 5 years ago I awoke to find a humongous blister on top of my right foot just at the beginning of my little toe. At first I had no worries about the ugly thing other than a curious wonder as to where it came from. I have enjoyed athletics all my life and have had many blisters before, but never one this big and never one on the top of my foot.Two days later the blister, if anything, had grown bigger, but of new concern to me was the fact I now had a pain in that little toe nearest the blister. Now that I was feeling some intense pain I decided it was time to go visit the doctor for an assessment as to whether I had something more seriousthan a blister.
Upon presenting my pained foot to the doc along with the growing blister, his initial assessment was that this was a ganglion cyst and asked if I had received a blow to my foot in the last several days, which I had not. This concerned the doctor a bit as it would have given him the cause for the sudden appearance of the big water sack that now resided on the top of my foot. To get a better idea of what he was looking at the doctor ordered me over to mammography to get a soft tissue x-ray of what he hoped was a ganglion cyst.I put my sock on over the foot and walked the several hundred feet over to mammography with the doctors orders in my hand. Immediately upon entering the recieving area I could see I was the only man in sight and most every eye was looking at me as I was very much out of place. Now it has always been my dream to find myself as the only man in a room full of lovely, vibrant women, but now that the dream was a reality I felt oh so uncomfortable. In my brain I imagined every woman there thought I must be a pervert looking for the backside view of an open hospital gown or a peek into an xray room if a door was open in the hopes of seeing some cleavage. When I produced the request for a mammography to the receptionist with the instruction to take a shot of my foot I could see she was stifling a snicker, but she proceeded to have me fill out paper work and took me to the proper room.The radiologist (a woman again) came in and asked me to take off my sock so she could have a look. Upon producing my foot with the humongous blister her comment was..."Well, I've seen some small boobs before, but that is definitely the smallest"
I wasn't sure if she was talking about the blister or the fact I was at the hospital for a minor ailment, but when she said..."The first one I've seen without a nipple" I knew she was talking about the blister.
They had to bring in a stool for me to stand on in order to get my foot high enough up into the equipment to get a shot of my foot. I now have a new appreciation for what that machine does to you ladies. I had to hold my foot up in the proper place as if I were practicing some karate stance.
Upon returning to the doc with my mammogram shots I was given the good news that indeed it was a ganglion cyst and it would probably go away as quick as it came...which it did.
Just as he was getting ready to pull the xray off the screen though, the doc did a double take..."You have a broken toe!!!" he exclaimed..."I can tell by the way you walk though, it doesn't bother you. When did you break your toe?"
I replied that it was waaaaaayyyyy back in high school to which he replied..."Well, it didn't heal back together as one bone...you now have two bones in your foot that only healed over on the ends..."
I got far more than I bargained for that day...the ganglion cyst is gone but my foot is still broken....it could only happen to me...

My day as bishop ( case of mistaken identity)

2007-12-11T17:31:00.000-08:00

When my aunt died a few years back I was asked by her daughter (my cousin of course) to conduct and preside over her funeral, which I was honored to do. The funeral was in another state so I showed up to be of help to the family and get ready for the event.As I got to the funeral home and started meeting different family members I was a bit confused as to why several loved ones were coming up to me and jokingly saying, "Hello there, how is it going bishop"? It seems my cousin Dani, for what ever reason, thought I was a bishop in my local area and had that printed on the program. I am a church going person, but the biggest leadership role I have had is leading the choir, so most of those who knew me were getting a good laugh at my day of being a bishop.Still, I am glad to say I handled the honor of being the conductor of my aunts funeral and enjoying the tribute to her life.May I offer one last blessing to you all as a one time bishop.....

Happy Birthday Angela

2007-12-06T06:58:00.000-08:00

Angela is our youngest daughter and was our Christmas present twenty seven years ago. I remember the hospital having little, baby sized Santa caps that were put on all the little bundles of joy that were born that day and Angela looked very angelic as she made her entrance into our lives. There was one particular day the girls were half heatedly trying to get me to tell them which of the three was my favorite daughter. (I'm not sure if they'll remember the moment) I assigned each into a category and said each was my favorite. For Angela I said, "You are my favorite youngest daughter" to which Angela replied while rolling her eyes, "Dad, I am your ONLY youngest daughter".
Angela's birthday is coming up this week. I'd like to remind her again that she is my favorite youngest daughter and tell you some of the things that makes her so special to me.
Ang desires so strongly to be a good mother to Arianna, and she is. If there is one thing the world needs badly today it is more good mothers. Ang is considerate and looks for ways to help others in their lives and bless them. She is concerned for her sisters. I can't tell you how many times in conversation with Angela she has said she was so concerned for them and the trials and situations they were going through. She has often said she wished there was something more she could do than she had already done, when the truth is she had done more for her sisters than I had done as a father. I love that about Ang. Angela is a worrier and at times that drives me nuts. The truth is, that while I am doing almost nothing assuming and hoping things will work out fine, Ang is busy doing things to make sure they indeed, do turn out fine.
When we finally realized Angela would be our last child I made a concerted effort to be a better father to all my daughters, so to Angela this day I want to say thanks for being my daughter and bringing so much happines and joy into my life....Happy birthday to you

Last years Christmas lesson

2007-12-04T20:41:00.000-08:00

About this time last year a certain gentleman came up to me at the store with a surprising request. In general words he made the assumption I could tell a finacially struggling family from a well to do family simply by what it was they were buying for their daily food needs. The crux of the conversation was that he wanted to "upgrade" a family's Christmas and he was hoping I could find a family he could be a Good Samaritan to.
As I went about for a week observing families while they shopped I kept in mind the guidelines this gentleman was looking for and I grilled several potential customers as they became possible candidates.
I was talking with a customer named Cory, trying to see if his family just might be the one chosen for the Christmas benefactor.
"Cory, I see you are shopping by yourself again. Where is Barbara?" I asked as he came through my line.
"She isn't feeling well and hasn't been out of the house for nearly two weeks" he replied.
"Oh, why not" I inquired as I was looking for more information.
"You didn't know? Her liver is failing fast, she is very jaundiced and we are hoping she can get a transplant" Cory replied.
"Yikes!! I didn't know. How is she doing and how long has she been ill?"
"She has been very weak for several months"
I felt maybe I had the chosen family in mind now and I asked several other questions as to how the family was doing generally and let Cory know my thoughts were for their best progress.
The next time I met with the would be Christmas benefactor I told him of Cory and Barbara, their two children and the family condition.
"Perfect" he said. "This sounds like a family my family would like to help in the hopes we can "upgrade" their Christmas. If you wouldn't mind, would you ask them if we could make arrangements to help with their Christmas"?
He had given me a new charge and the next time Cory was in the store I asked him if I could speak to him for several minutes in private. Cory looked a bit puzzled, but still said sure, and up to the office we went.
I told Cory of the Christmas benefactor's request of me to help him find a family and that I hoped Cory and Barbara and their family could be benefitted by his gererosity.
Cory was quiet for ten or fifteen seconds and I could see he was pondering over the offer I had presented to him. His answer was quite different from what I had expected and I must confess it brought a tear to my eye.
"Rick" he said. "Christmas is Barbara's favorite holiday and we are quite certain this is going to be the last one she will have. We have pulled out money from her retirement fund knowing she will not live long enough to earn the payout. With that money we have gotten the kids a couple of things they want but with the rest, Barbara wanted to give it as a special Christmas to some other family that was in need. You can tell your benefactor we appreciate his offer, but we are planning on "upgrading" someone else's Christmas as well. Just the thought of doing this has brightened Barbara's attitude immensely and she is really looking forward to being a giver this Christmas..."
We both stood there looking at each other in an awkward way. Cory knowing he had confessed something their family had hoped to do in secret and me feeling much inadaquate in knowing they were being true examples of the meaning of Christmas...."It is better to give than to receive..."
I shook Cory's hand and wished him well as we headed back out of the office. I told him to give Barbara my best regards.
When I saw Cory in the store again the next time after Christmas I asked him how his holiday had gone.
"Best Christmas ever"!! he beamed.
Even though I knew of the problems they were facing in their family, I envied his joy of the season.

I told you so!!!!

2007-11-30T07:39:00.000-08:00

Do you remember the moment you found out Santa isn't Santa? (Don't let your young ones read this....Ha!)
It must have been the Christmas Eve before I turned 8. Dennis must have decided it was time for me to abandon my childhood notion of the jolly old elf and told me outright, "There is no Santa!!"
"What??? No Santa??? Who brings all the gifts then" I asked?
Dennis replied quickly and to the point, "Mom and Dad".
I must have had a dumbfounded look on my face so Dennis just said, "Stay awake tonight in your bed, you'll see"
That night I had mixed emotions as the evening lengthened on and Mom and Dad were trying to calm us down and herd us off to bed.
Dennis and I had bunk beds. I slept on top because it was near impossible with his disease for Dennis to climb the few stairs up to the top bunk.
As we layed in bed that night Dennis kept whispering up to me to make sure I was staying awake. Staying awake wasn't a hard task as the great ponderance kept running through my brain..."Mom and Dad are Santa Claus? No reindeer?"...just a multitude of questions swirling through my
head.
As we both layed there for a bit pretending to be asleep, I soon heard some footsteps shuffling our way in the dark.
"Ricky.....Ricky, you want some hot chocolate", it was Dad whispering to me very quietly in an effort to ascertain if I were asleep or not. When I didn't respond or budge he must have assumed it was safe for him to go onto his next task, which was getting into the closet right next to our bed. He clicked on a flashlight and as I slightly opened my eyes, I could see he was pulling gifts out which were destined to soon be placed under the tree.
As Dad quietly sneaked out of the room I could hear Dennis shuffling through his blankets in the bunk under me. "I told you so!!!" he muttered. When I didn't say anything he simply said, "I know you're still awake. I can hear you crying."

2007-11-21T17:20:00.000-08:00

My father died in early December. He lived an event filled life for 86 years so no one felt he had been taken too soon, well, except for Mom who had been his wife and sweetheart for 60 years.
As I look back on the day of the funeral I have several things to laugh at along with the life time of memories and lessons Dad shared with me. Dad was a military man up until the time I was five years old, so promptness was always something drilled into our heads..."If you are not fifteen minutes early you are late" was a common phrase uttered from his mouth. It so happened the day of the funeral Vic, Ron and myself had been asked by Mom if we would dress his body right before the funeral, which we were glad to do. The funeral home had said they would give us a call when his body was brought from the funeral home in Farmington to the funeral home in Kirtland where the dressing of his body would take place and from that funeral home they would bring Dad over to the church house where the funeral would take place.
Dad's body was put in a hearst in Farmington, but on the way to Kirtland that hearst broke down and a replacement hearst was dispatched to make the transfer. It was a slow transfer. By the time Dad's body arrived and we were called, few precious moments were left to get his body dressed so we could start the funeral. This was not something any of the three of us brothers were well practiced at, so it took us a lengthened time to get Dad ready. The final result of all this was that saying that you have all heard a hundred times before...."he'll be late for his own funeral"... well, he was almost late. Going by his own words he was not fifteen minutes early, so by Dad's standards he was indeed late for his own funeral.
After a long life, Dad mellowed in his attitude about different situations and I know he would have gotten a good chuckle at the irony of it all.
We remember Dad fondly at the start of each December.

2007-11-21T17:08:00.000-08:00

As I was going through some of my Father's papers in an effort to help Mom get their estate in order I ran across this poem I had written to him in an earlier time...
You cheered me on in basketballand in everything I've done
you've been proud to be my father,I've been proud to be your son
but when this life is over and the next life has begun
on our first day back in heavenI will take you one on one....

Dad loved basketball and though I had written him several poems, this is the only one I found he had kept. I suppose he is up practicing now so we can keep this committment on the b-ball court.

Grand kids can get you arrested!!!!!!

2007-11-15T19:35:00.000-08:00

I got a call from my youngest daughter who was laughing and wanted to pass on a conversation she had just had with our 3 year old granddaughter.It seems our granddaughter was giggling at something and when an inquiry was made as to what was so funny she said..."I am thinking of the time Grandpa was sucking on me...
"Well, needless to say this caused an instant picture of horror in the minds of my daughter and son-in-law so they started the interrogation. "Which grandpa was sucking on you?" they asked.
"The crazy one" was her reply. (Usually she calls me the silly one, but I got upgraded for this tattle tell story)
So now I was the suspect."How was he sucking on you?" was the next question.
Her answer brought confusion to my daughter."You know Mom. You were there. Don't you remember?"
This made my son-in-law's eyebrows raise even further as the this dastardly deed now involved my daughter.Upon further questioning it seems my granddaughter was remembering the time I was vacuuming up the stairs with the long hose from our central vac system. In a teasing gesture, each time she got close by me I would push the hose her way in an attempt to "suck" her up through that little hose and off the stairs along with the dirt particles. This would make her howl with terror at first, but then laugh with glee when she had gotten away to safety.The way she had remembered it and passed it on to her parents had my own daughter ready to have me arrested.I'm glad they did more questioning before calling the police......

A Christmas gift giving idea

2007-11-11T06:41:00.000-08:00

As Dennis progressed with his Muscular Dystrophy he became physically weaker and slower. We were a family that always loved sports and tried to play every chance we could get. Dennis had gotten to the point where no one wanted him on their team, as he would be a liability no matter what position he played ,so he and I started our own form of two man baseball. Rather than hit the ball with a bat I would throw the ball straight up into the air as high as I could. This would give Dennis time to take a few steps to get himself under the ball as it fell to the ground. If he caught it, I was out. If he dropped it I got a single. From first base I'd do the same thing again, throw the ball straight up in the air as high as I could. If Dennis caught it, I would be out. If he dropped it I then moved to second base and on it went like this until he had caught the ball 3 times making 3 outs or I would advance around the bases until I scored a run. We could play this way for quite some time. Every now and then Dennis would fall down for no reason, which was just a fact of life with the progression of Muscular Dystrophy and the Duchene Strain that Dennis had. It slowly robs the strength of every muscle in your body from your neck to your ankles. On one particular high lob that I had made, Dennis situated himself under the ball waiting to make the catch as the ball descended. Just as the ball was approaching his glove, Dennis' arms lost all strength and his arms fell to his side which allowed the ball to smash into his nose causing him to tumble down onto the ground in a bloody heap. Dennis never was one to cry, but easily let his frustrations get to him. He threw the glove away in disgust that his body wouldn't do what he wanted it to do. He took off his shoe and pulled the sock off his foot which he used as a hankie to help stop the bleeding. If it hadn't been such a sad situation it might have been hilarious...a boy with a bloody nose using a sock as a first aid remedy. Well, the truth was, we had encountered many similar situations before because of his disease and I was used to having these mini-disasters, so I couldn't help myself...I started laughing. Dennis' first reaction was anger. He couldn't get up to pound on me, so he took the bloody sock and threw it in my direction as best he could trying to hit me, but didn't come too very close to me. The blood continued to trickle down his lip so I took off my shoe and offered him my own sock to help him out. This made him laugh in return. After the blood had stopped we got Dennis to his feet and we went into the house, laughing at our newest experience and both of us only wearing one shoe.
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If you enjoyed this story might I recommend my book as a gift to give for Christmas. The book details Dennis' life and has several stories just like the above on that are both touching but sweet. The books sell for $10 and I can easily send you a signed copy that you can have in a week. Drop any request to me...cmydimple@yahoo.com

Chapter one of my next book

2007-11-04T19:53:00.000-08:00

It had all the markings of being a great week. The day before was filled with much laughter and reminiscing as many family members had met together at our house to share in the happiness of Joel’s homecoming from his two year mission in Baltimore, Maryland. Joel was our nephew, but had become more like the son we never had. He had made us proud of the change in attitude he had under gone since moving into our home to join the family six years earlier. The fact that it was his birthday was a mere coincidence, still it added a bit more luster to the day.
I think many of the visitors used Jayden as an added excuse to come by the house and stay a bit longer visiting and cooing at the newest arrival to the family. Jayden was barely six months old and getting cuter everyday as she grew and showed each us of something new every day. It was one of the reasons I’d get up each morning just to see her smile at me. She would wave her hands wildly and kick her legs in an animated effort to give me her best hello and let us know she had things she wanted to do.
Our oldest daughter Amy, and her husband were living in the downstairs area of our house as he made his way through college and offered us the blessing to be able to see and care for our dear grandchildren everyday. Conner was the older of the two grandchildren and was full of wonder and energy being the two year old toddler that he was. Jayden became our first grand daughter the previous November and we were enjoying the laughter and excitement that had been missing in our house for several years as we watched with amazement, the joy these two newest buds on our family tree were bringing to us.
It was Monday and I had just been awakened by my wife Dot as she was making her preparations to head out to start another work week. My attention was given to the chirping of a flock of birds that had taken up roost in the cherry tree situated in the backyard and probably about eye level with our upstairs bedroom window. I got up and peered out to see if I could count how many birds were making such a continuous conversation amongst themselves. I was surprised to find I couldn’t see a single bird, but knew they were out there just the same. I don’t have the best hearing, but it was evident that morning that my ears were better than my eyes. I’d soon be getting a message that my ears couldn’t believe and that would make my eyes tear up as well.
I have never been one to stay in bed when there is so much else to enjoy with the start of each new day. I turned my attention away from the birds and made my way down stairs to start my normal routine of the day. I went straight down the stairs and out the front door to retrieve my newspaper to catch up on the happenings of the weekend.
Everyone in our family had their own individual routine for starting the day. Dot had to be to work by 6:30 so she would stay in bed as long as she could and then do a rush, rush routine to get dressed, made up and out the door. She always prided herself in being able to get ready for the day within 20 minutes of getting out of bed. Sometimes I’d make toast for her, but most times she’d prefer to have a cup of hot chocolate and be on her way.
After our goodbyes and “have a great day” wish, I would settle into getting through the paper and doing my crossword puzzles. The headlines always hinted at what disasters and misfortunes were rampant through out the world and other people’s neighborhood and I always tried to not think of the fact that bad things could easily happen to me or my family.
I could hear Jayden rustling and crying a bit as I was finishing up my last blocks of the crossword puzzle and I waited momentarily to see if Amy would be attending to her soon. It is one of the perks of being a grandpa, I didn’t have the immediate responsibility of looking after a fussing child, but if anyone else was too slow to give attention then I could choose the be the first one on the scene to start the day for this precious baby of ours. We considered Jayden to be ours as well because we shared in the daily acts of bathing, diaper changing, feeding and all those required demands that a new one brings.
I was just getting ready to head downstairs and be the hero who started Jayden’s day, but Amy came out her bedroom door and headed towards Jayden’s nursery
“Jayden has been so fussy all night. I took her out for a drive during the night to help get her to sleep” Amy said. “I hope we didn’t keep you awake during the night.”
“No. I didn’t hear a thing at all last night and I doubt your mother did either. At least she didn’t mention anything before taking off.”
Amy looked tired already and the day had barely begun. She turned and whisked herself into the nursery to take care of Jayden.
Drat, I’d have to wait for another opportunity to be the hero.
With my crossword puzzle out of the way and my cereal gone it was time for me to make my way up to the shower and keep to my schedule that would lead up to my leaving the house to head off to another day at work. As I was getting into the shower I could hear Jayden crying again and knew she was fussy from having had another bout with her chronic bronchitis. She had several attacks during her short six months of life and the albuterol treatments were making her feel not quite her usual, happy self. Again, I waited that extra five seconds that we grandparents get before seeing if I could be of help with a fidgeting child……..hmmm not needed again. Maybe Jayden had finally fallen asleep. I got in and out of the shower, got dressed, took a few moments to write down some to do items, put away a few things and headed out the door.
I drove away from the house and arrived to work in a timely manner. All the joys and activities of the previous day were still fresh in my mind and the thoughts of all the love and blessings I was currently enjoying brought a broad grin to my face. What a lucky man I was. What a lucky man indeed.
I hadn’t been to work for even thirty minutes when Janet sent a page over the intercom for me as I was in the check stand.
“Rick, you have a phone call on 501”
Knowing that phone calls were not a proper thing to answer while in the check stand, I responded with, “I’m in the check stand, could you take a message please Janet?”
It wasn’t two minutes later that Dennis, my store director came and took my place in the check stand saying this was a phone call I needed to take.
I walked over to the nearest phone and picked it up.
“Hello this is Rick”
The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable to me as my neighbor, but she introduced herself just the same.
“Rick, this is Lavaun. Little Jayden has passed away and the paramedics are taking her to the hospital. You’re supposed to go meet Amy there”
Just like that Jayden was gone…..
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Now I could use the help of any who remember that day and the week that followed. Please drop me a note and share your thoughts of that day. What you did...did you come to the house? Make a phone call?
The rest of the story details that week and will end at the gravesite where we had that final ceremony. I'll be looking for your response...Thanks

On the lighter side

2007-11-02T07:27:00.000-07:00

November brings several birthdays to family members so this will start a highlight of something about each...enjoy.

I remember November 25th, 1956. It was just one of those much unexpected mornings from my youth!! I got up in my usual manner and headed right for the kitchen. I was in my normal sleeping attire, my kiddie briefs and nothing else. I could smell the welcomed aroma of breakfast being cooked and was anxious to get my day started. You know how many things a nearly 5 year old has arranged for his busy day.I hadn't gotten ten feet into the room when I froze in my footsteps...who was that stranger at the kitchen stove? No way was this Mom! Far too tall and wearing a dress. Mom never wore a dress for breakfast. She turned and I recognized her instantly as my Aunt Marguerite, the one aunt I was smitten with. She always looked so exotic. She was a beautician by trade and always made herself look as if she were headed out to an important social event. Just the type of woman I would be taken with.
What an awkward moment for me. There I was nearly naked and quite unprepared for this encounter. I was getting ready to make my sneaky retreat back into my bedroom when she turned and our eyes made that undeniable contact. My mind went blank. I was transfixed by her gaze. I felt weak at my knees. What hold did this woman have over me? I could tell by her body language she was not offended by my near nude state. After all, for a five year old, I did have quite the adonis body. She had a sweet smile, her arms were open...we continued in our transfixed gaze. It was the perfect moment for me to express my true desire. Tell her what a beauty I thought she was, but I found myself speechless still. Being the older, experienced woman she was, Marguerite was the first to speak, "Well good morning Ricky, come give Aunt Marguerite a hug." she said.
Still, I was frozen there on the kitchen floor stunned at this situation I found myself in. I must say something, so I gathered my thoughts around me and sounded out those three words that still ring in my ears today...
"Where's my mommy?"
Marguerite still had that sweet smile even though my question was so lacking in romance. "She is at the hospital. You have a new baby brother and I am here to get you started on your day. Here, I've got breakfast waiting for you."
She pointed to the chair at the table, turned, got a plate of pancakes and set them at the spot on the table where I'd be closest to her. My mind was still racing. What should I say now? Something sophisticated, enticing..."I've got to pee."
I've got to pee? What kind of line is that? Way to go Ricky, you are Mister Suave and Debonair. I turned and went to the bathroom. I didn't want Marguerite to know I was a liar on top of my other inconsiderate acts. I sat there on the toilet trying to regather my thoughts. Organizing the words that would turn the tide in my favor with Aunt Marguerite. I was searching through her words she had uttered to me, looking for a hint she was as smitten with me as I was with her when those words she had said suddenly hit me like a brick...I HAVE A NEW BABY BROTHER!!!
I hurriedly got dressed and raced out to the kitchen table. Novemeber 25th ended up being a very exciting day................. Ron's birthday will be on the 25th, wish him well.

Remembering Umberto

2007-10-25T07:12:00.000-07:00

It was this time of year 3 years ago I got a phone call from my oldest brother Vic. He is a nurse and at the time he was working in a local hospice program. It seems he had a patient that was up from Argentina and Vic needed someone to translate Spanish for him and Umberto so Vic called me.
I arrived at Umberto's apartment several minutes before Vic. I introduced myself and made inquiries as to what Umberto did (furniture construction), where he was from (a small town in Argentina), why he was here in America (he came for work opportunities to send money home), his family (he was married and had a 5 year old daughter he hadn't seen in 4 years).
When Vic arrived he got right down to business after shaking hands and making sure Umberto and I had met.
"Umberto, you have cancer" Vic said.
I was suddenly shocked but relayed the message to Umberto. He didn't looked surprised or shocked and took the message without a change in emotion. He replied he had felt very poorly for quite some time and knew something was wrong with him.
As we made further conversation we learned Umberto had come into the country illegally and as he had gotten sick, he stayed away from the doctors thinking that might be a situation where he was reported and deported back to Argentina. Because he had not gotten earlier medical treatment he was now in the late stages of cancer and Vic had to tell Umberto the conclusion was he had maybe 6 weeks or so to live.
This was a conversation that was very hard for me to pass on, as it made me very emotional and was a conversation I had never had to make in Spanish before.
Vic continued to ask Umberto what medications he was taking, who he had seen, how weak he was feeling now. Vic also passed on to Umberto what plans were being arranged for Umberto for the near future.
I was told to ask Umberto this next question...
"Do you want to die in Argentina with your family around you?"
It was a blunt enough question but it was the hardest question I have ever asked in my life.
Umberto said he did indeed want to get back to Argentina but he did not have any money to make the trip.
Vic replied back that over the weekend he would see what the hospice program and local people could do to help him. In the meantime he was to take the medicine Vic had brought along to ease the pain and other maladies Umberto was feeling. He was told we would be back on Monday after the weekend was over with results of help inquiries made in Umberto's behalf.
My thoughts and questions the whole weekend were of Umberto and his situation. Why couldn't he find work in Argentina? Why hadn't he gone to a doctor? Why this? Why that?...Just a myriad of questions to situations that each of us have as everyday blessings here in this great land of the United States.
On Monday Vic made arrangements with me to go talk with Umberto again. He said he had good news. We told Umberto all the funds had been raised to get him back to Argentina and he would be flying out in less than a week!
I was stunned and touched. Local people who didn't know Umberto at all had donated money for him. The airline had been called. Arrangements were being made. I was amazed at the goodness of people in my area willing to help a stanger in a difficult situation. At a time when illegal aliens were being pointed out, persecuted and shunned, unknown people were opening their hearts to a fellow brother and helping in his time of great need. As I passed on the news to Umberto I couldn't help but cry. He was not emotional but responded with a simple thank you.
Vic also had to tell Umberto because of his failing condition, there was a possibility he might die on the airplane during his flight back to Argentina so there were medical and legal things that had to be taken care of before he left. We told Umberto we would be back again with all the necessary arrangements before the week was over.
Several days later I met with Umberto for the last time. He was given an injection to thin his blood so he could withstand the air pressure change the airplane flight would bring. He was given a small mountain of medications to hold him through until he could see a doctor in Argentina. He signed several pages, one of which authorized the airline to contact his family should he die on the flight home to Argentina so they could come retrieve his body.....
I only met with Umberto 3 times but the entire situation has affected me greatly the past several years. How blessed I am to be able to see and enjoy my family everyday. How wonderful it is to live in a land where I have constant employment opportunities. What a great thing it is to be able to feel freedom from worry of wondering if some agency will become aware of my situation and send me away from my area when I want to stay....we all have so many things to be thankful for.
I remember Umberto during the Thanksgiving season. He did make it safely down into Argentina and was reunited with his family. He lived his last several days with family but also left a lasting impression on me. I hope his story can do the same for you.

Veterans Day...looking past Halloween

2007-10-19T07:27:00.000-07:00

First, I apologize if this entry seems so long ,and secondly it seems self promoting, but I'd like to share a personal experience I had last Memorial Day weekend.I work for Albertson's (a national grocery chain) and it is a tradition at my store to allow veterans to set up a table at each entrance to sell their poppy buddies to raise funds for the VFW on patriotic holidays.The gentleman who manned one of the the tables is a frequent customer of our store and reminds me much of my own father in his appearance and demeanor. As I had several opportunities during the day to stop by his table and see how he was doing, we made small chit chat. I told him my father served in World War II and in the Korean conflict. I told him we could never get him to talk much of his battle experiences, but he would always warm up when we asked of his poker experiences with war buddies or different social interactions with them. "I know exactly his reasons why too" was the reply. As the day wound down and it was time to fold up the tables this veteran went to get some food and personal items and then he came through my line to make payment. I totaled up his purchase and he pulled out his food stamp card a little embarrassed and entered the needed numbers to process the transaction. His purchase took his available funds down to zero and there was still a balance left which I informed him of. I could see immediately he was both embarrassed and troubled. He looked over the items to see which ones he should put back and told me he didn't have any other money for payment. I knew immediately it was close to the end of the month and his assistance funds were gone. This was Friday which left 4 more days in the month. It was also evident he had purchased the bare minimum needed to get him through the day...not the month. I reached into my pocket and said "Here, let me pay the difference for you. "No no, I can't have you doing that" came his reply."That's okay" I replied. "I do this once in awhile for my favorite customers." I was hoping he would let that suffice, but I could still see the hesitation in his face. The pride of a soldier who had been through much worse than this without any help."You can pay me back your next time in if you feel you must" I offered to him in the hopes of easing his angst of the moment."Okay, we'll do that" he said and I could see a little slumping of his shoulders at being less than a man in having to let someone else pay for his groceries. I told him he reminded me much of my own father, a veteran who had passed away last December, as I bagged up his groceries. He offered his condolences and I assured him our biggest concern was with my mother now that Dad had passed on. He flashed a sad smile and informed me his wife had died recently too, for which I offered my condolences. He also assured me his wife was in a better place as she had suffered greatly. For some reason I couldn't help myself. I pulled out my small wad of cash and offered him a $10 bill. He looked at me much confused and almost insulted. He could see I had chosen a $10 when I had some $20's available. I had quickly put him in my Dad's shoes. Twenty would be more than he would take. Five was less than he needed, there were 4 more days left in the month. It might just be enough.He looked around quickly perhaps as if wondering if this was a gag. Perhaps wondering who would see, I'm not sure. Then I said something to him I'm sure he already had heard."Peter Jennings said yours is the greatest generation that has ever lived. I owe you more than this. With that being said this noble man took the $10 and a tear started falling down his face which made me suddenly uncomfortable. I held out my hand for him to shake. He looked at me again with a questioning look on his face and I felt something more needed to be said."Thank you for being my father for the day" I said. Why I said those words I have no idea, but he took my hand in a strong grip and we both stood a little taller."God bless you boy" was about all he could choke out of his mouth. It sounded so strange to me as I am a gray haired man in my 50's."He has blessed me much, this is my way of trying to pay him back" was my reply.We both smiled at each other broadly, he turned and walked out of the store with an upright gait of a man who maybe was just a little more hopeful of the generation he had risked his life to preserve freedom for.This good man came back in again this last week to make arrangements to set up a table again for Veteran's Day poppy buddy selling.Please remember our beloved veterans as this special day arrives next month. I know through the passing of my father there are fewer and fewer of these great men at the end of each day.....