Another Favorite 60's Song

In 1970, George Harrison came out with this incredible double solo LP entitled "All Things Must Pass." The lyrics to his music were always great, and this album was no exception.

I had to write the lyrics to What is Life, one of my favorite songs on that album.

What I feel, I can't say

But my love is there for you any time of day

But if it's not love that you need

Then I'll try my best to make everything succeed

Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

What I know, I can do

If I give my love now to everyone like you

But if it's not love that you need

Then I'll try my best to make ev'rything succeed

Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

What I feel, I can't say

But my love is there for you any time of day

But if it's not love that you need

Then I'll try my best to make everything succeed

Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

Oh tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

What is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

Oh tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me who am I without you by my side

And she still manages to make me smile a lot after almost 36 years.

Music is my Passion

Some people don't understand why music is a big deal; consequently, few will ever understand why it was, is and always will be my passion. It reminds of things from the past.

This picture is one taken of me at the home of my Grandpa Cles and Grandpa Liza, about two months before his passing at the age of 48.

The tan-colored Ottoman is just to the right of an old Hi-Fi. There were stacks of 45's from the 40's and 50's, but my favorite was what my sisters and I called the "Burp Man Record."

It was a Spike Jones cover of "The Tennessee Waltz, a country classic. Growing up found my sisters and me talking my grandmother into playing that record repeatedly, and eventually, I actually made a CD recording of it. When I hear it, I think of that room--the woolen carpet with colorful ferns, the old Hi-Fi.

Maybe it was the first time I began associating memories with music. Growing up, my dad had a stereo that babysitters eventually destroyed, and in high school, I could never play anything on it that I didn't want to see damaged.

In my junior year, I bought a copy of Abbey Road, the last studio LP from the Beatles. Almost weekly, I would walk down the sidewalk with my sisters with album in hand. Grandma would play both sides for me, while my sisters and I sat and listened.

"Isn't this fantastic?" I would say to my grandmother, who usually found something to do while we sat and listened. "If you like it, that's what counts." It took years for me to realize that my grandmother probably didn't find magic in the music of John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Grandma liked Bing Crosby. She liked the sound of Sinatra's voice, but she found his behavior less than acceptable. "But one thing for sure," she'd say, "The old pup can sure sing."

I can't imagine what Grandma Liza thought about Lennon and McCartney and others from the 60's.

Then dad bought the new Magnavox at Christmas. I was absolutely thrilled. I played it continuously. But I'm sure that my grandma missed our afternoon visits, even though she didn't care much for the music.

Music reminds of the past. There isn't a time, when I hear a song from the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album that I don't think of Paul Jones, a member of the Malad High class of 1969. He drowned that late spring. It was a sad year, lots of rain except for the day that their class stood on the shore of that reservoir north and east of Malad.

He and his friends tried to swim to a dock afloat a distance from shore. They swam in their jeans and with their tennis shoes. He became exhausted on the way back and went beneath the murky water. It still makes me sad to think of it. I didn't buy that album until I was in my late 30's. I liked the music, but I couldn't stand to think of the tragic memory I associated with it.

And when I think of anything by Buffalo Springfield, I think of the first date I had with my Annie. There was a dance at school, and my dad bought me a Sony cassette stereo that we could put in the family car. He had our relative, a local mechanic, install it for my date.

I played their Greatest Hits called "Retrospective," and when I turned off the car, she told me how much she liked Buffalo Springfield. Now, I could have seen that as just small talk, but she knew the names of all the band members--Neil Young, Stephen Stills, Richie Furay, Bruce Palmer and Dewey Martin.

I knew we were soul mates at that minute.

Whenever I hear the band, or anything by Crosby, Stills & Nash or CSNY or Poco, I think of our times together.

And then there were some things I probably made a mistake with during my youth. Before I played any football game, I would listen to hours of Led Zeppelin to get me into a rage for a game. It was a ritual that I began to "psych up" for any game, and I know it contributed to the development of a nasty temper that I put aside after two years in Germany.

Now, some other bands also remind me of my past. The Moody Blues and Cat Stevens remind me of my short time at the university before my mission. It was a special time, one where you develop a sense of independence and a sense of self-worth.

And then there's my experience at Gem Boy's State in the summer of 1970. While there, I bought my first Grand Funk album, the red one. The group was an incredible three-man blues band that had searing guitar solos, great drums and a dominant base sound.

Music was also not just something that was a "passive" form of entertainment. I played and took a great deal of pride in excelling in it.

Again, my parents had a hand in that when they bought me my Selmer baritone sax. It was the beginning. I played in high school bands, participated in clinics and summer camps, and I eventually played at the university level in a jazz band and elite wind ensemble as a freshman.

I had a chance to tour Europe after my senior year with an International Band. Another classmate also had the opportunity, but being an only son on a farm meant having responsibilities. My dad would have sent me too, but he needed my help. I eventually saw Europe more times that I could ever have imagined. I'm glad it worked like it did.

And again, music is my passion. The memories it brought me are so strong and will always remain with me.

It always will be my passion. Although there are other people and things I feel just as strongly about with every beat of my heart.

Bambinos

Thursday was a great day. Angenette Pickett Call, a friend I taught in German at Rigby High, notified me that her brother was having a Grand Opening for their new fast food place year University Place in Idaho Falls.

Ann was in Driggs doing some contract work for the State Department of Ed., and Jack was in school. The whole thing began at 11:00 a.m., so I made a visit.

It was fun to see my old student, although realizing these one-time students are now adults with their own children, who are are either in school or about to be in school is intimidating, yet I have a couple of former students who are now grandparents. That more than anything else is a wake-up call. I am now officially an old fart.

The Grand Opening was fun. When I told Ann about it several days before, she was disappointed not to see Angenette and not to see the new business. We made a second trip in the afternoon.

Jack was with us. So what's the verdict with Jack on a Bambino at Pickett's Bambino? We tried several different ones, but Jack liked the cheese and cherry ones the best, and he was upset until we cooked him one the next morning for breakfast. He was grouchy Friday morning after the previous two days of festivities.

Thursday had been a busy day, the day after Jack's birthday. We made this visit and did several other things, including going to a movie: Percy Jackson and The Lightening Thief. My little "bambino" Jack loved the film, but getting ready for school Friday morning came early, and the fact that there was something special that day at school didn't help things either, even if they served doughnuts. Jack was upset to think that it was 7:00 a.m. already and time to go to school.

Like I mentioned, Jack was grouchy, and in fact, Jack was impossible. But the Cheese Bambino, we bought in a box of many other frozen ones, worked magic. After initial thawing, we heated it like Angenette told us to do.

Our little "bambino," who now loves Pickett's Bambinos, was happy, attended school, and when he returned home that afternoon, he went to playing with his Legos.

The only mistake was when he chose to take a nap. Nap is a bad word with Jack. A few years ago, I even used suspended animation once as a ploy, until he figured that it was worse than a nap. It was Pop Pop's way of tricking Jack into taking a nap. There was no suspended animation with machines and interplanetary travel. It was just a matter of listening to Pop Pop tell a story long enough so that slumber would take over. It didn't take long for Jack to figure that one. But Friday after school found Jack exhausted.

"I'm just resting my eyes," Jack said. Ann and I began watching the Olympics, and suddenly at 8:30 p.m., we noticed that he was still sleeping. We were able to get him awake.

But his eyes were rested until very early Saturday morning. But it has been a great week.

Retrospective 2009

Without a doubt, I can't start talking about favorite things of 2009 without mentioning the trip we took home to Idaho with three grandchildren. They were so excited to be with us, and to be honest, I was a bit nervous.

The last time we took Tommy and Anna anywhere, they both began feeling badly about being away from home, but they were older at this point, and not having seen grandma and Pop Pop for some time, it worked out that they would be able to stay with us without getting homesick, or at least getting homesick for a while. They both began missing their mom and dad, but they still had fun with us for a month in Idaho. It was a time I'll never forget.

Lydia and Jeff were so incredible to let us talk them into this. Lydia had been so sick during the first months of her pregnancy. We were very nervous about the whole thing, and after being in Rochester a short time, we could see that our visit was not helping, so we volunteered to do something differently: talk the little ones home with us for a short time to help Lydia get over the rough spot in the road.

I still remember what I did for them for breakfast in the morning. Anna liked bagels with strawberry cream cheese. Tommy is a waffle man, and he liked them with strawberry jam. Jack liked a traditional breakfast, an omelet and sausage links.
The first stop we made on the way home was at Mt. Rushmore. We purposely made sure we took a look at Teddy Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln, and when we were near The Little Bighorn, we stopped there too, letting Tommy and Anna learn something about Custer. It made it nice and much easier for them to enjoy the second installment of Night At The Museum. We did that when we returned to Idaho Falls.

Lydia and Jeff came out a month later to get the two little ones, but she was still so sick. We made another trip out to take them home, but it was incredible to have Lydia with us again.

In the fall, I felt panic. I wanted to see the coast of Northern California, and most importantly, I wanted to see the Redwoods.

It didn't look like we would get to it, but then things worked out well. We had three or four days, and we did this quick road trip. The first day, we drove to Williams, California. The second day found us on the beach. We would get to see those beautiful Redwoods in the afternoon. But I will never forget the beauty of this ocean scene, and the fog that morning made it even more interesting.

There's nothing like watching a grandson mirror the wonder in your own eyes as he watches the beauty of nature.

It was a simple trip, but the drive was something I'll never forget--the scent

of salt air, the cool ocean breeze, the

sound of sea birds, the view of people fishing or digging for clams. It was a beautiful morning.

But the thing I most wanted to see was a Redwood, and we wouldn't be disappointed.

There is nothing like experiencing the view of a forest like this for the first time.

First, you notice the spongy feel of the ground, the green ferns that make the entire area look so serene, the musk of the giant trees that shoot up toward the heavens. There is simply nothing like it anywhere, and I've traveled a great deal in my life: dangled my toes in the Aegean, watched dolphins jump in front of our boat, see an obelisk placed on a street by Roman hands thousands of years earlier, climbed steps of cathedrals in Germany, Austria and Hungary and the Czech Republic.

There's nothing like seeing these trees.

And looking upward gives you perspective, that I wish everyone could experience. You realize things you never thought you would.

The two trips we made to Disneyland this year were fun too, although Jack began by showing me an omen of things on the horizon: he was "too big" to knock on the door of the tiny cottage near the exit of the ride that takes children to Alice in Wonderland.

It's something he's done since he was there for the first time, when he was just a bit older than one. In September, it was out of the question, but in November, Ann tricked him into doing it one more time, but it was a chance for him to clown a bit as he posed for a picture.

He was too old for the Dumbo ride, yet he had no problem with the Fantasy Boat Tour or even Kasey's Train. The Peter Pan ride was alright too.

Watching children slowly move toward the "dark times" of teenage wasteland is difficult. And for Jack, it happens in six years and one day. It's unbelievable that he is already almost seven. I remember when my doctor told me I only had a 25% chance at best at seeing his first birthday, and those numbers didn't improve until after the second bout with chemo finished and I continued to survive in spite of what many believed. Maybe that's why the child-like parts of the park are important.

I don't know many adults capable of believing anything. Now, I don't believe in the tooth fairy or even Santa Claus, but I know why I survived, and my former oncologist and doctor talked to about that faith too. Tears came to his eyes as we talked. You don't forget things like that.

And I know Disney rides are a bad comparison to something like this, like all good poetry, I just hate to see the ultimate experience with grandchildren begin to change as they grow older.

But at least we have pictures to remind us of all the great memories, and in spite of how "old" any of our grandchildren become, I know two things: first, I will continue taking them to Disney Parks to make more memories, and secondly, I will never regret one trip we did with them--

not the visits to Universal Studios

or the trips to Legoland

or Disneyland and the California Adventure Park

But the ultimate came on our second trip to California. I've always enjoyed being able to get an occasional trip in the caboose of one of the Disney trains, and this time in November, we rode in the exclusive one, the Lillybelle or however you spell the name. It received its name from Disney's wife.

So when someone give's me the look when I tell them we spent three or four or even five or six days at Disney, I bite my tongue. It's because this phrase that Forest Gump often heard comes to mind, "Are you stupid or something?"

You see, where can you have a vacation where I have under $100 in fuel costs round trip. You have to eat anyway, and we always are looking for great hotels at very good prices, so our trips are not as expensive as most people think.

You can't relive moments with grandchildren. They grow up too quickly.