May 31, 1974--A Momentous Occasion

It was a beautiful summer day, although the season doesn't really begin until June 21.

The Wards have always been farmers. When Viking ancestors invaded Normandy in 1066, my family members were Norman lords. I'm not sure if I should capitalize "lord." The overemphasis just seems a bit pretentious to me.

We still have the ancestral urges: the need to grow things, and though by 1066 the family tree most likely was Christian, there is still an element in us today, that feels the urge to grip a sword and fight when it comes to defending family, or just when someone really pisses us off. It's not like we think engaging in battle will help us reach Valhalla or anything. We just find the aggressive process a needed alternative to just sitting there and smiling passively.

My father always told me this: "Don't take any wooden nickles." He left me to interpret it any way I wanted. In my opinion it was a reminder not to take crap from anyone.

But that farm thing was an issue with a May 31 wedding date. We were still planting grain, but it really didn't make all that much difference in 1974, because the horribly dry summer didn't work well for our dry farm. The crops were poor, and not being in the fields a couple of days would never have made a difference.

However, my Sweetie was something far more important than farming. And she still means more to me than the concept of Valhalla was for my ancestors. She has made all the difference in my life.

My parents were in their 40's. Ann's dad was about my age right noWithin only three or four years of this picture, he passed away. It's even more tragic now, because you realize when you're fifty, that even the late 50's aren't really all that old, although some days I wonder when I feel the ache in my knees, ankles and toes. They all shared that brief moment in time with us, celebrating the beginning of something extraordinary.

And regardless whether we go to a class reunion at the new high school in Malad,

shoot Zurg and his evil robots at Disneyland,

or squeal like little girls on a coaster at Busch Gardens in Virginia, we still have fun together.

Because it's not just about all that heavy breathing on starry nights, we lived an incredible life together--working, studying, sacrificing. It's what defines us.

It's what you do with someone you love. And for the record, the starry nights are still grand, even if I'm an old coot.

Cast Your Eyes Into the Abyss (Does It Gaze Back At You?)

Wisdom comes with age.

Some fool probably said that

while

looking at a glass

half full.

But whoever invented the idea never knew a few

people

I remember from my youth.

I remember one old man who lost a leg in battle

whether in the Pacific Theater

or Europe

it doesn't much matter, because either place would

never have made

it easier for him to smile any given day.

Some young customers complained

about

sniffles and sore throat. I watch

the old warrior glare

across the diner toward their table. Their food

was ready. He picks up the plates

and walks. Food slides

to each slant of a wooden pace.

He stops in front of them. They gaze momentarily

and then look confused at each other. "I lost

a leg in the war and half my throat

to cancer." His voice twisted and coiled

in pain. The heavy plates

made a dull thud as they hit the table top.

There was silence, both uncomfortable and

tense. He looked

at each of them for a moment

before

he limped back to his perch. "But I

never get a cold."

He turned and retreated behind the counter.

Locals smiled. The young strangers squirmed

uncomfortably in their seats

and talked

about the weather and ski trips and cars

while

they ate their meal. The seemed in a rush to get somewhere.

Not many were there that night

but my friends and I sat

at the far front end of the counter

because

we were still young enough to enjoy the spin

of diner stools.

A cousin cooked at the grill

and I knew

something would happen that night. Tension was like

broken chards of glass

and conversation

was uneasy. People stared, mostly in silence.

I watched the old man saunter toward the open grill. He held

out his right arm. I thought

it was for balance

but then

he slapped my cousin

across her backside with the flat of his hand. The sound made a clap.

"Move your lazy ass," he snapped the words and his lip curled in rage.

Pain leaves multiple scars

some temporary

that fade

with time. Others are wounds

deep and open

and unlike a good wine

time

only makes them fester.

Silence is heavy and tedious, when you wait for the inevitable.

Customers watched helplessly not believing what they saw

that night

in a simple dive

that served mostly burgers and fries.

I watched my cousin. Her neck reddened and her ears colored

in dark tones

like shades of a sunset in late summer.

Her back was to everyone. Shoulders trembled

as if affected by a January storm. She wiped her face with her hand

trying

not to show anyone

tiny drops

of shame. Why do victims carry the burden?

I was sixteen. I wanted to do something

anything

but fear is like

moments of early darkness when

nesting birds

make

nature's death rattle

wobbling and hopping and fluttering about

among branches for concealment and comfort

before night.

I wanted to do something to a pathetic old man

who slapped

a woman making less than minimum wage.

"Shouldn't we say something."

I forced a whisper from my throat. Three friends

smiled. "Why

don't you do something." They scraped

hash browns and gravy

onto their forks

and ate the meal

prepared by the hands

of my cousin.

She turned and looked at me and forced a smile,

its image awakened me.

The omen was to make me know she embraced

good intentions

but a design undone

never cures a malignancy.

I still see that smile sometimes. It haunts me like a scream in the still of night.

Morning is when regret hurts the most--the fear of being marked

by time and not spiced

with the hand of Picasso

and his magic brush.

The status quo admires photographs that show faces forgotten in time

where at least

a person's glance allows the glimpse of hope

to sleep well at night.

It's why people always count the toes on any newborn's feet.

People like ice cream with their pie.

But personally I like Picasso and his strange point of view

although sunflowers fascinate me too

and when it comes to life

there's nothing like a starry night

to put life

in perspective

because regardless how many ears the artist had

there is nothing like an epiphany in summer's darkness.

Moonlight never knows the difference. It makes no sound

but gentility adds character to the vision.

Normal is relative

and sanity is a fleeting moment

unscathed in time. It's like

a fresh leaf on a living tree

vibrating

fluttering

waving in the bask of summer breezes

enjoying life ala mode.

It's easy to seize the day

neither detached

nor wallowed down

in tragedy.

Sadness can be like clouds that ride mountain ridges in late November.

I talked with my dad about the night

in the diner

about my cowardice

about my fear

about my letting things happen.

To this day I wonder what he thought of me

worrying about

how someone mistreated and scorned

a woman like

discarded potato peels

because

a wise man once told me

a hard potato has no conscience. I never assumed

that a potato could see the light

except when shoots grow underground

from sockets to seek illumination

and life in the sun.

And I guess wisdom really does come with age

because

I recognize those black harpies circling in their mid-air dance

in blue skies

and now

I don't wait for the scent of carrion

to act

to make a difference

to stop the pain

to avoid seeing anyone smile politely after tragedy.

But even a brave act is subtle self-indulgence. Action helps me escape the guilt.

Fools find solace in nostalgia. They wrap themselves

warmly, contentedly

in memories

somehow distorted

and embellished

by their own point of view.

Those same fools shout the words carpe diem. They

relish a confident image

they imagine of themselves. Is there a smile in the face of a pond?

Being a passive observer has its price. Life without

passion is one bound my innocence

Karma is sometimes a cruel mistress

who cripples a lover with a smile

before leaving on a dark night. Can you hear her laughter?

Wisdom is a faint whisper in a wise man's ear

the message plain

simple but sometimes

hedonistic. Its message

resonates--I reserve the right to deny

service to anyone.

Life is like living with a contemptuous lover: "You never know

what you're gonna get." Chocolate is a suitable substitute.

There are advantages to being born

with a face

only a mother could love: you realize

that living and breathing is like

an airline schedule: an existence without guarantees

where you lose

checked luggage after paying extra for stowing it. Sometimes

your clothes just look better on someone else.

And besides

for those homely fortunates, excluded from style and pomp

of any fashion runway

narcissism will never be

viable

because

their strut will never attract attention

even if they trip and fall. But sometimes a sneer

or even a frown

looks more forbidding on an ugly face. Any fashion model could learn

from this.

Happiness is an amulet. It wards off those who seek to control fate.

Courageous choices let men sleep at night, but when you're young

visions of pretty faces and lace bring smiles too.

I choose to see beauty, even if it refuses to stare back at me.

Beauty is relative and doing the right thing

at a given moment

when

it's easier to remain

silent

is a photograph worth framing.

The Visit to PF Chang's With Jack and Flat Tommy

Jack was ecstatic, when he heard we we were going for lunch; however, the optimism soon faded. He learned that the "P" and "F" didn't mean we would see something to do with Phineas and Ferb there.

Jack loved the food.

Oh, and he liked the small plastic chopsticks they gave him to use too. Playing with them after the meal meant breaking off one section, leaving a sharp end, but the waitress gave us another one.

It shocked me, because after leaving drinking straws on the table, she waited a few minutes before retrieving mine. I guess I didn't use them fast enough, but I learned from my lesson and asked for two more: one for my water and one for the diet soda.

And I understood the strange behavior of the server taking away those straws. I'm OCD too, so I know compulsive tendencies.

Flat Tommy was there too. Although Tommy doesn't like fish of any kind, I felt he wanted me to order the sea scallops--as if it would have taken anyone to pressure me into that order.

Oh, and the lettuce wraps were nice too, not to mention the other things we found highly interesting.

I only wish I could be a "Flat Pop Pop," so that I didn't have to see my image in a picture. It's sad for three reasons--I look like the elephant man, I walk like ET meets Walter Brennan, and even more pathetic, I'm not only old enough to know who Walter Brennan was, but I also remember his stint on 50's television, when he appeared in a series called the Real McCoys.

We let Tommy me a cool dude too. I put my hat on his head, just like I remember some young dudes wearing their hats.

"Captain Jack" smiled. He likes it when his Pop Pop acts stupid in public places, as long as I don't call him my Pookey Bear.

That's not acceptable--no way, no how, NO CAN DO! But sometimes I do it anyway. I just whisper it.

I know I only have a brief time left to do something like that. Soon he'll be old enough to hate me for things like that. Now he just finds something to do that teases me later in the day.

Did I say that Jack loved everything about this restaurant. He loves Chinese food or anything Asian, as long as it's just chicken. I don't make jokes about "the other white meat," but that would never happen at this place.

It could, however, take place at a few of the dives in our town, where there isn't a fancy menu.

Jack tries his chopsticks here. And I know what he's thinking. He wants to use them at show and tell this next week.

Winter 2010

Living in Virginia is something I would love to do. When Cles graduated from UNC Chapel Hill, I attended graduation.

It was fantastic. The weather, although in December, was like what we have in late September or early October in Idaho. Cles and Leslie took me to Monticello, and the weather--even in the early evening--was still nice. Only bare trees told me it was winter.

But this year was different. Two storms--each one dumping two feet of snow in a single night--happened in an area that seldom has snow stay for more than a few days. For the first time, Cles talked about buying a snow removal attachment for his John Deere mower. The backyard, shown in this picture, has huge drifts.

I was there in August. It was hot and humid. The nights were clear, and the sounds of cicada dominated everything. It was beautiful, but this snow is only something to be appreciated if you've never experienced it before.

When Cles graduated, I flew out to see everything. Ann and I had been there in North Carolina a couple of times, but this visit was the icing on the cake.

It was fun to see Cles finish his degree, but it was even more incredible to see a Tar Heel game the year they won a national championship.

I always marveled at the fire engines, typically deep red, appearing in the same North Carolina blue you see graduates wearing. However, even more fun was to see the blue Santa hats.

I have one of those now.

I wish I could remember the team UNC played that day. It was a North Carolina team that usually acts as a spoiler during the NCAA season, although they rarely appear in a tournament at the end of the year. It was fun to watch and to feel the "vibes." Our family became instant fans.

Before I returned home, Cles and Leslie took me to Charlottesville to see Jefferson's Monticello. Even at night, the weather was spectacular, even in December. There was no need for a coat. It was like nice fall weather.

Seeing Monticello was a dream of mine. Ann and I had been to DC on a number of visits, but getting to Charlottesville was not easy.

The weather was beautiful, and the only way a person could tell it was December is by looking at bare trees.

I wish I had a copy of Cles and Leslie. I took a couple of photographs, but in the process of losing two IBM computers to virus problems in the last few years, I lost that picture.

But I will never forget the beauty of that day, especially the Tar Heel blue sky.

How would I have ever know that day that this would be where Cles and Leslie would make their home.

Another Sad Day For Education

My paternal grandfather never had the opportunity to go to school beyond the eighth grade, so for him, an education was not something that was by any means unnecessary. For my grandfather and all of his brothers, each of them worked hard on various parts of a large farming operation.

In the late 20's during The Great Depression, my Great Grandfather Ward made the largest land deal in the state of Idaho. His sons helped pull their weight, and at that time, an education was a luxury.

It appears that my grandfather regretted that lost opportunity, because he educated himselfNot only did my dad finish high school, but my grandfather also wanted him to attend college. However, it never happened.

The picture at the top shows our high school, built in 1921. Fifty years later, we were still in that building. There were three floors with numerous problems because of the age of the building. I returned to teach there in 1979, and a bond didn't pass until 1980. The class of '81 was the first to graduate from the new building.

It was a battle getting people to vote for that bond. Unfortunately, few people felt like my grandfather or father, both of whom not only expected children to get as much education as possible but also wanted something better for youth. Few people are like that, and the numbers are even fewer today.

It shocked me when I moved to Idaho Falls to teach. There was a great deal of support, but what stunned me was the reaction of those who had plenty of money. Some of them were the last to support any kind of funding or a bond in an election, and they were quite vocal about their choices. I refused to go to any doctor like that, and in one case, it saved me going back for the same surgery several times to fix something that initially didn't get fixed. The standard joke in the area for that doctor was pointing at someone's knee and saying, "Oh, there's the new door for the doctor."

Becoming a teacher meant that my passion for achieving an education for me was a priority, but I also felt that way about my own children. However, it extended beyond that. Students knew me and say me encouraging and sometimes nagging them to prepare to do additional training after high school. Education is the equalizer in today's world. It empowers people to become anything they desire.

So you can imagine my disappointment in the workings of the Idaho State Legislature the last five to eight years. When the politicians created cuts years ago to ensure public support, I knew what would eventually happen, and it did. The tax burden shifted. Politicians gave tax breaks to corporations, many of whom preferred having money given to create a strong school system.

And tax breaks also went to those with vacation homes.

Although both the sales tax and the lottery were items that the politicians promised would support schools, they shifted funding to other areas. In order to pander voters, especially the wealthy ones who also funded reelection campaigns, they successfully have now cut back taxes that forced the current situation. Within the past ten years, the legislature gave away over $200,000,000 in surplus to perpetrate a horrible situation. Rish, while temporarily in the office of governor, gave additional cuts. Businesses warned him, but he dismissed them.

Parents in District 91 refused to pass a bond that would act as a buffer during extreme cuts during the 2010 Legislative Session. It was the first time since our moving to Idaho Falls in the late 80's. On the day it failed, home school parents and children stood on the streets on Seventeenth Street and waved signs, which implied that they and their children were part of District 91's school population. They were another example of tax protesters. And they are an example of those who want no taxes at all--something I don't understand.

I was upset, so when the issue came up a second time, I decided to write a letter to the editor. That did not turn out well. I spent several days worrying about it, and after finally completing it, I submitted it before the end of business day. Here is the letter:

Some say it has been a difficult year for educators. It’s a negative status quo--decades passing without adequate salary increases. This year has seen the worst that can happen--many districts now offer pay cuts from 2 to as much as 6 percent, not including an additional 5% insurance increase, some view advanced classes and extracurricular activities as expendable, luxury items; most districts ignore needs for manageable class size restrictions in favor of a “practical approach.”

District 91 is at a difficult juncture. Passing the bond is a necessary solution.

Do you worry about an adequate education for our youth? Responsible leaders in this country have always placed educational and training needs at the forefront, understanding that an education empowers citizens to contribute to a healthy economy.

Options to trim budgets affect the continuation of programs, and “nay sayers” use oversimplification to justify their decision. The options they present appear at the last minute without the time for voters to realize that “simple” solutions are neither simple nor cost effective.

Please consider the mistake we make by taking a passive role on May 18th. Some argue we can’t afford the price tag for Idaho’s children. A true pragmatic approach will reveal that we can’t afford not to vote in support of District 91’s bond election. Inadequate education funding is unaffordable. Please vote in support of District 91’s bond election.

Jon Ward

Idaho Falls

When I checked my e-mail at a very late time of day, I found this upsetting e-mail:

Jon,

My poor old computer can't open your file. Can you cut and paste your
letter and re-send?
thanks,
corey taule
opinions page editor

I resubmitted it as requested at that time, and the next day, we sent another. Here is a second letter from Corey Taule, letting me know that he could not open it. I sent it a second time.

The next word I heard was that everything was alright. Ann and Jack and I were in Boise, so I didn't see the paper on our steps when we returned home. The letter was to be printed today.

Upon returning home from Boise, I found that the Post Register did not publish my letter as promised. My disappointment is with people who find it so difficult to understand how important a strong educational system is in this country. My government teacher explained it by showing why Third World countries did not become strong economically. First, they have no strong educational system, and secondly, there is no strong central government. These are two things that radical conservatives fight today, and I don't understand their position.

It's not an Idaho problem. We have the same situation nationwide right now. Recently in Indiana, over 17,000 teachers received pink slips. The legislature honored one new teacher because of dedication and an ability to motivate and to help students. There was a large media event. They asked the teacher to express feelings on the honor. She waved the pink slip. She was one of the 17,000.

So right now, the answer to solving education's money needs is forcing more students into classrooms. Districts nationwide close schools and fire the surplus teachers. It affects advanced classes and programs.

I am glad that I no longer teach, but it is unbearable for me to think that my grandchildren will enter schools anywhere in this country with these problems.

Teachers in Idaho have always had little respect from their state politicians, which I think is ironic. Because of the money they receive from lobbyists and the wealthy and powerful, I view their careers as the "Second Oldest Profession." One on a budget committee this year justified the 6% pay decrease this year by saying that educators are idealists, so they don't need money.

The comment is too stupid to spend time discussing. The bonds in Idaho need a super majority, and most are losing by a small percentage of votes, but the effects are devastating to schools.

There is a grassroots movement gaining momentum due to what voters have seen happening, and it won't take a super majority to get some out of office. One parent talked to me in Boise, without my bringing up the fact that I was a teacher.

It upset him that they refurbished the Statehouse and used millions to do it, that they renovated the Governor's Mansion and used money to do that, when Otter refuses to live in it. He drives from his ranch to work.

I wanted to add how Kempthorne also spent huge amounts of money securing Boise in the aftermath of the attacks in New York. It was just before George Bush selected a Homeland Security person. Kempthorne wanted the position, but he didn't get it. He had to settle for something else that he did poorly. He left Idaho before the term of his office was finished. It's just another example of how our public servants forget the people they should serve.

We live in a world, where self-promotion, self-indulgence, self-importance are most important. In spite of everything, I am glad to be alive. I'm glad I'm not still in the classroom. And I'll be glad if voters ever become truly enlightened.

I'm not angry, just because people have a different opinion that I do. It's because I've seen what an incredible effect that education has had on my life. I've also watched what it's done for my grandchildren. I guess some people like feeling exclusive about things, but regardless how impossible it becomes for everyone to educate themselves, society will ultimately pay for poor choices. It's not just about modern times. Charles Dickens used his writing to motivate change. He saw what threats want and ignorance are to any society, and when he used the term "want," it had nothing to do with hoping for designer jeans and fancy houses and cars. His definition of want was "wanting" food, shelter and basic necessities--all of which are available to citizens who have the opportunity to better themselves.

In Hard Times, Dickens ridiculed those he viewed as pragmatists. These were people who refused to make anything available that didn't generate profit. Educating people correctly doesn't make short term money.

When the Berlin Wall came down, the German government chose 22 American teachers to travel to Dresden to talk with people, who lived under the cloud of communism. I met one protestor who helped organize the rallies that helped end that restrictive government. Only a short time after the change to democracy, he he told me something interesting: he said a country, that restricts and stands in the way of people hoping to improve themselves, is not one capable of improving society. It is a government that fails in its purpose to serve its people. This man didn't want a "free ride" or a handout. He just wanted a fair shake.

The man hoped that democracy would enable him and his people to improve themselves, based on their own ability, their own ambition. His disillusionment was understanding that a free society had limitations too. Sometimes you don't find a way to improve your station in life, unless of course you belong to an acceptable class of people.

West Germans refused to put money into the newly acquired states, and it created a great deal of bitterness. In some cities, there was a 55% unemployment rate that lasted several years.

Our country's people forgot long ago what real hardship means. We complain when the unemployment rate exceeds 10%, and 5% is the norm. It reflects those between jobs nationwide.

Our country forgot long ago what it means to spend money constructively in order to remain strong: maintaining the infrastructure, maintaining a strong military, maintaining an adequate educational system. Necessary things cost money, and as taxpayers, it is our responsibility to pay our share to support a healthy economy. Business needs to do the same. Without roads and bridges and a power grid, the country is at risk. True leadership will remind American that everyone pays for these things. The tooth fairy doesn't just make them appear.

Oh, and it would be nice to give a helping hand to those down and out. I'm not saying we dole things out continually. I believe we provide educational opportunities, and after those in need find training in an area they choose, they will pay taxes too. It worked after World War II when veterans came home. Educating them and helping them and their families get on their feet is what made a generation so prosperous. The alternative is paying generations of impoverished people without hope. Anyone who thinks that this is avoidable with a simple plan is naive at best.

There are studies that show that overcoming poverty is a difficult task. People wallow in hopelessness. Helping them get out of a situation like this is the American way. You know, we live in the land of unlimited possibilities--a place not affected by a class system that doesn't allow a person to improve their social standing through ambition and intelligence.

It's interesting for to study ancient cultures. The fall of strong nations is a complicated issue. Rome clawed its way to world dominance, but that empire lost its way after struggling to sit at the top. In the end, no one wanted to serve in the military, no one wanted to pay money to pay soldiers or supply them adequately, no one wanted to maintain the infrastructure. The rich and powerful wanted to spend money on themselves. Education wasn't an issue for them, because in ancient times and even in our day, it's like Mel Brookes once said in one of his movies: "It's great to be king." If you were at the top of the society, you were there. Learning a trade often meant nothing more than being a valued slave. Money and power went hand in hand. There was no Middle Class.

In today's world, newspapers talk about the shrinking Middle Class in our country. It's not because the government overtaxes us. If you've been in Europe, you would understand just how absurd that premise is. Sales tax there is at least 10-14%, and in many countries, it's outrageously high. Taxes are very high too, but workers earn an adequate living. Companies succeed in spite of it.

Life is full of contradictions. Those with simple answers pander the ignorant. They insist that only one option appears plausible. Those who suggest such silly notions are dangerous. I love living in these days, although it is sometimes frustrating. I long to see today's America confront a problem, face the difficulty, form wise conclusions, and without assigning blame, developing a remedy for what sickens society. It is my hope and my dream.

It was those damned liberals who made it possible for the little guy to have some opportunities afforded free citizens. I still love this country shaped by them and their ideas. Those, who curse their paradigm, not only would have been Tories in the late 18th century, but they also will never understand what those men believed in so strongly--a nation of unlimited possibilities, a people of educated citizenry: intelligent enough to protect those basic ideas and concepts of freedom and equality, a culture of values, respecting others and honoring those true servants of the people. True servants of the people--regardless of political affiliation--don't make their vote available to the highest bidder, and they don't ignore basic needs of those they serve.

"You Say It's Your Birthday!"

I just couldn't resist buying this Star Wars ship, and it was fun to see Tommy's smile in this picture. Keeping a surprise was never something I could do in many instances.

Gifts were things I always found before the day came to open them, and in one bizarre case, I actually put decals on the toys before I received them, and on that same Christmas, I actually put together some game pieces on another game I received.

Now it's different. I sometimes get so excited about giving a certain gift, that it becomes impossible not to tell the recipient just what it is before the "big day."

Tommy's birthday was no exception.

When I called and told him about the package we sent, he was ecstatic about the ship he holds in the picture.

It was just too much fun for me to wait until his big day arrived.

There was, however, one gift he obviously loved, and the books we found in Barnes & Noble were what excited Tommy the most.

There was the war books--a couple about the Civil War and additional ones about the Revolutionary War. It was excited to find them, because Tommy was so excited to tell me about them over the phone.

It was fun to find them, but it was even more enjoyable to hear the laughter in his voice as he opened his presents.

Dr. Tommy

This is a great picture of Tommy. What makes it fun for me is to see him already thinking about possibilities in the future, and our grandchildren are beginning to do that, although it changes.

At one time, Tommy talked a lot about orcas. He would correct me when I referred to a Killer Whale incorrectly, and he loved visiting that park.

Jack loves movies, and he continually talks about films he wants to make, and he develops stories in a type of visual board that he can see in his mind. We have a camera at home, and occasionally, he talks grandma into filming one of his stories.

It is so much fun for me to see the creativity and intelligence of my grandchildren, and I love the fact that they read so well and that they do math so well. Reading was something I did alright with as a child, but math was not something I loved.

I hope I get to see these little boys excel in school and begin to select careers that inspire them. It's what makes like so much fun, and they're obviously having fun now as they consider options.

The "I'm Getting a Package" Package

Birthdays sometimes are sad. We mailed Tommy some things he absolutely loved on his birthday. And we talked several times over the phone, but we planned on sending some clothes for the kids, just in time for that brief period in Minnesota, summer.

It's a beautiful time. People aren't grouchy. You can hear the sound of song birds. Meadow larks join with frogs and kill deer to make a beautiful impression just as the sun sets. It is a nice time of year.

Ann and I found some great things on sale for the girls, and the two dresses--one for Anna and another in the same style for Samantha--looked like what they would like.

Oh, and I found this hat that I knew Anna would love. It was a light brown little hat, a Hedda Hopper meets Janis Joplin. Lydia told us that Anna loved it.

When I called after Tommy's birthday and talked with both Tommy and Anna, Lydia said that Anna handed her the phone when she finished talking, and with confidence and pride she said, "I'm getting a package."

It's fun making grandchildren smile, but enough of this "girly" stuff too. I found some great Jimi Hendrix T-shirts for both girls. That will be something we'll get this next week. We'll take them to Minnesota with us, when we go out in early June.

We Be Stylin'

My grandchildren are like their Grandma Annie--extremely camera shy.

These pictures found our little ones in Minnesota having some fun. I only wish there were a film clip, so that I could hear the laughing, that I know they were doing during this picture.

When I talked to Lydia the other night, Little Samantha now shows she has developed a personality, and at this point, she is "high maintenance." She didn't like her mom not paying attention to her, so suddenly I heard this growl. She was growling at the phone.

"Put the phone on speaker, Lydia." I started growling loudly, and Samantha stopped immediately. But Tommy and Anna laughed hysterically. Lydia laughed too.

"Dad, Samantha's eyes are as big as silver dollars." I then continued between Samantha's growls, and once I did Pop Pop Wolfman's howl. Tommy and Anna liked that too.

Grandchildren are fun. It makes me smile to know that I didn't get my wish that I had when all three of my own children were teens. I told a faculty room full of teachers that some days I regretted not having taken at least three or four leaps per day onto the bar of my red Schwinn bike from the time I was 8 until well into my teenage years. They thought that was funny. There is nothing funny about teenagers.

These little ones are too much fun. And like Samantha and even Tommy, when he was small, I like to growl too--and occasionally howl at the moon. Owwwwooooo000000ooo!

Jack and My Mom's Cookies

Jack met his Grandma Carolyn early. This was not the first visit, but it was one where he enjoyed being held by my mom. We began making stops when he was very young, and he was only a bit older than one here. This is about six weeks before we took our first trip to Disneyland--one of the most magical trips of my life. It was one with both my little grandsons, and it was a time when we stayed very inexpensively in a very expensive Disney Hotel: the one at the edge of California Adventure Park. It's the same lodging that looks so much like the lodge at Old Faithful.

When Jack was just a bit older and could talk, I would whisper to tell grandma to make some cookies. She had given him some fresh ones at one visit, so it wasn't a difficult thing for him to do. But I only had to do that once. After that, he asked each time.

This past weekend, Jack and I drove to Malad to see my mom before Mother's Day, and while there, we sat in the kitchen and talked while Jack watched television. He came into the kitchen.

"Pop Pop. I think I can smell cookies." He wrinkled his nose and smelled, but there weren't any fresh cookies. A couple of flat, metal baking sheets lay on the cabinet in one spot, but there was nothing there.

"Shhhh." I gave Jack the look, and told him to watch TV. He made his request softly, and I hoped my mom didn't notice. Jack did that three times in the next 50 minutes while we sat in the kitchen. Mom's back was to him, so I hoped that she didn't notice. For me, I don't want my little ones coaxing for something like that.

There were a lot of things to do that day, and several hours later, when we returned to my mom's house, she walked to her fridge and freezer, as soon as she heard me say we were on our way home. Mom pulled out a large bag of cookies she had in the freezer.

Jack smiled. His eyes sparkled with contentment. It was a "grandma moment" for Jack, a time to be pampered and spoiled with something he will always remember. It's what grandmas do.

Erma's Fridge--a Favorite Destination for my Three Kids

I grew out of patience with my children when we visited Erma's house one visit. I don't remember which one of my three did it, but they made a "beeline" for the refrigerator and stood looking at the food on the shelves.

Without knowing why they did it, Erma assured me that everything was alright. She had everything ready for our visit. There were chocolate puddings in small dishes with lids and a huge two or three layer cake--usually chocolate--sitting there for them too.

I remember the summer of 1970, when Ann and I just finished our junior year in high school. We had just started to date, and during the summer, our Sunday School class would go swimming at Downata Hot Springs once a week. My dad made sure we were in Malad on those nights, and the class always requested that Ann's mom bake us one of her chocolate cakes. That was the same type of cake she made our kids some 12 years later.

That's why grandmas are fun. They do things like that.

Flat Tommy's School Visit In Idaho Falls

Personally, I have good memories of school lunch and then there are those of which a Latin term best illustrates the idea: ad nauseum.

At Jack's school, however, the new visitor was a hit with the babes in Jack's first grade class. Maybe it was because Tommy's shorts was the same color that they wore at the time or a color of something that would match what they wore. Regardless, they just couldn't keep their hands off "flat Tommy."

It was cheeseburger day, and in honor of Tommy's love for chocolate milk, everyone seemed to want to drink the same thing.

Now I've visited the school during lunch and have taken a seat with Jack at the table. The noise is reasonable. I mean it's not like the Pink Floyd concert I attended in Stuttgart, Germany, that advertised a potential for permanent hearing loss without wearing "ear protection," but it was still a small room with tiny people and high pitched voices.

I have an advantage here. Maybe it's years of driving a Caterpillar D-6 Series C tractor which may have modified my hearing, or maybe it's my selective hearing loss my wife says I have.

"Jonie," she says just before damning me all to hell and continuing, "You only hear what you shouldn't or what you want to hear."

But I maintain that that lunchroom wasn't loud. But only dogs and dolphins can possibly decipher those high pitched tones expressed in excitement of coloring primitive art, playing tag at recess, contemplating joy in every breathing moment. It must be fantastic to be young.

I can't remember.

But it was a great day for Tommy at Edgemont Elementary in Idaho Falls.

Hoping that May 6, 2010 has Better Weather in Minnesota

Before Jack went to school

today, we had him hold up our

"flat Tommy" in front of him on the front lawn for a quick birthday picture.

Today is Tommy's birthday.

There was about an inch of snow on the ground, and it continues to offer flurries. The sky is grey. It's 37 degrees outside right now. The chirp of robins took a sad tone early this morning.

I chose not to whine about it. I'm beyond whining--just "ticked" about my hopes for spring.

I can never remember a time in my life when May had cold weather for this long, and it looks to continue. I just hope Tommy had a great birthday in Minnesota today, with smiles and cake and presents and friends. Birthdays are fun when you're under the age of 21.

And I will post happier moments to commemorate my birthday grandson's day throughout the next 10 hours or so. I just hope Tommy had a fantastic day today.

It's been a busy week for "flat Tommy," but there have been some moments of fun too, which included a visit to the Idaho Falls Public Library.

There were computer games. Jack likes those, and he enjoys the books there too, especially those of some "dragon" series.

I finished one with him last night, so we'll be taking another trip within the next few days.

There are always Star Wars books, and when in doubt, Goosebumps is an option too. Grandma isn't sold on those, and occasionally Jack has a nightmare after hearing a story from one just before he goes to sleep.

But there were other places in Idaho Falls that were interesting too, like Sub Zero. They make ice cream in this business with liquid nitrogen, so a visit there is like reaping the benefits of learning about science and eating something that tastes great but isn't good for you all at the same time.

But I guess ice cream does provide nutrition, since milk products are part a basic food group, yet I also occasionally view Dots or Sweet Tarts or Sour Patch Kids as satisfying the fruit requirement, and when ice cream isn't an option, there's always Mild Duds.

Last Friday, Jack was excited to take "flat Tommy" to show and tell. That was an eventful day. Grandma went with Jack to school to take pictures of this activity in the opening minutes of class.

Then we made a trip to get a yellow polo shirt for the elementary choir program performance, which began just before the end of the school day. We had his practice soccer shirt, but we wanted something else.

Jack wanted to have a polo like Tommy.

Then on Saturday, we decided on a number of activities--like the Farmers Market--one near the river and a second one near the mall.

Teton Mall's market had something particularly fun--a couple of young Germans from Frankfurt, who recently moved to Idaho Falls. They will be selling Bratwurst each Saturday.

It's the birth of another new Saturday tradition, and "flat Tommy" did all of that with us, but I don't think he would have eaten a brat.

The next stop was at the comic book store, where Star Wars characters were to be there for photo opportunities, but it didn't happen, so we went home.

Plans change. We wanted to take "flat Tommy" to Yellowstone Park, but the weather was even colder there than in Idaho Falls. Staying home wasn't a difficult decision. My idea of winter is sitting up to my neck in my hot tub in water heated at 106 degrees.

I don't think "flat Tommy" will be there for that, but Pop Pop will like the warm water.

But "flat Tommy" was able to see some great things in Idaho, like Pickle's Place in Arco. Jack and I ate there once.

The food was great. The atmosphere was like I would imagine at any tiny town isolated from the world. I listened curiously at some foreigners at the table next to us and found it interesting, that they would not only eat at a "little known" diner in a remote place, but that they would so easily blend in with "red neck" America with ragged jeans and hunting orange.

Then I realized they weren't foreign. They were aboriginal citizens of Arco, and when I finally began to understand their creative use of the English language, I determined a number of things--they didn't like outsiders, they hated teachers, they liked to kill animals, even at the expense of losing a job. Joblessness seemed less of a concern than satisfying bloodlust for anything that crawled or believed that wolves were an essential part of the ecosystem.

I could live with everything but one item. They didn't serve wild game, so it wasn't a problem. I was a hunter once. I believe that wolves keep wild game healthy and free from diseased animals, and when they kill domestic animals, I support farmers in their right to be reimbursed. But a hate for teachers is something I can't put up with, so I decided to eat at the only other restaurant in town, until I determined that they shared all of those cultural eccentricities: especially a hatred for teachers.

The good news is that there is one of those taco wagons, a renovated bus or even a motor home of any type, that became refitted by Hispanic immigrants to serve incredible Mexican food. It's great. Besides, they recognize the need for their children to get an education in order to succeed in modern society.

This picture was important for "flat Tommy" to see, because when these three Buttes erupt to the same time to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy, you know you have a "weather" closure at any area school. It's like Hades spills flame and ash, but it also has to happen in the deep of winter. That way, superintendents can know that they only cancelled school when "Hell froze over."

What's a visit to Idaho without driving by the nuclear laboratory. In the movie Overboard, Kurt Russell described the area as Gooberville, Idaho--a place near a toxic nuclear waste dump. I guess he and Goldie once ate at Pickles Place too.

From "flat Tommy's" smile, he enjoyed the ride with grandma on her way through the Idaho desert on the way to see Craters of the Moon. I'm still not sure whether it's a part of the National Park System or belongs to some other type of designation. My having hauled lava rocks on a farm really affected my love affair with any nature reserve that offers panoramic vistas of patches of rocks.

And what would a trip to Idaho be like without taking a picture of a "spud cellar?" It's like going to New York and not recognizing the Empire State Building. Potato is king here.