A Trip To Driggs And A View of Idaho's Side of the Tetons

Outside a restaurant in Driggs at the small airport, there is an incredible view of two things--the Tetons and a number of planes that take off during your meal.

Jack was with us last Monday, and we watched a number of small planes take off in the short time we were there. Jack's eyes widened each time the engines accelerated, just before the race down the runway and a climb into the sky.

Today was a trip for Grandma and Pop Pop. Jack stayed home to have fun with his mom, but I wish he could have seen the two gliders that landed today, but the most interesting was the small one-engine Navy jet. I can't identify fighters from the Korean and Viet Nam Wars like my son can, but it was incredible to see and hear the jet make its way into the sky. Jack would have loved seeing that.

Ann does contract work for the Idaho Department of Education, helping schools improve by observing and giving suggestions from the training she does. Just like she does with everything else from making jam to teaching children, she does extremely well. A short distance away from that restaurant is the school, where Ann did some work this year and will continue in September.

I'm just in this thing for the drive with my Sweetie. It gets me into some great spots to take pictures, and besides, it's nice to listen to what Grandma calls "Jonie's Groovy Music." My I-pod is a modern day miracle, containing a good portion of my music collection in a small instrument small enough to fit into the palm of my hand. It contains everything, except for my jazz, classical music, and some of the modern things I like to hear on occasion.

The only objection I had during the entire day was the jerk sitting at a table near us. It's impossible not to encounter people like that during a day in the public. But at the restaurant, haunted by wealthy visitors, it's often to meet eccentric people with big mouths and little class if any at all.

Last time, an old guy had the voice of Sam Elliott down. You'd think that someone trying to talk like a notable actor of Westerns would say something profound, but other than a few minor euphemisms and ignorant political rambling, he said nothing. He was just annoying.

But today was something more. This kid mentioned going home to Minnesota, but he didn't have the accent. He didn't say, "Oh, ja," or pronounce the word "about" in an interesting way that people do from Canada or Wisconsin or even parts of North Dakota. They say "a-boat," and any word with an "o" in it sounds pretty much the same way. Oh, and I've not met many Minnesota people who were loud and obnoxious.

This guy was a contractor working in Driggs for the wealthy and famous people there. He occasionally spoke of native Idahoans, like when he told this child with them this: "We don't much like people of your type who wear their Paawjamas in public."

I felt better when he said he lived in New Jersey for nine years. But I've been in Newark a couple of times, and if I were from Jersey, I wouldn't have claimed the guy sitting at that table.

He helped me remember what my father once said about contractors: "I've never met a person who was still in love with a contractor after the job." For the most part, it's not just a stereotype, although this guy seemed pretty stereotypical.

Ann and I finished the meal by sharing a slice of caramelized cheesecake. They used one of those little "flame thingers" to create a crust on one side, just like you see on that Cream whatever dessert that Jack and I love so much. The sweet tasting thing helped me forget the clown sitting next to us, until he made some comment about his fries. But since they were sweet potato fires, not something related to anything Idaho, I forgot the bore, and we started home.

We stopped at the top of the hill overlooking the beautiful valley beneath the Tetons for a few pictures. If I were ever to own a tract of land, I would love to have something with a stream running through it.

There was a bit of breeze on this summer day. And it was formally the first day of summer. It would have been nice to hear crickets, but I suppose that early afternoon is too early for that. The meadow lark was nice, but the view itself was enough to make the visit spectacular.

But you can't forget the Tetons, the reason I wanted to be here so badly. Last Monday saw a bit of rain, and clouds covered the peaks like a shroud. Today's picture is something I dedicate to the lonely French trappers from the nineteenth century, who so lovingly enjoyed the view of these majestic peaks.

Great Pictures In Yellowstone

Ann and I talked about returning to Yellowstone this summer. We didn't make it there once last year, so getting a chance was something we've been trying to do since April, but the weather has not cooperated this year. Today was the first Saturday we've been in Idaho Falls, that there wasn't snow or cold weather.

Not only was the weather nice, but the walking was good exercise I've needed for some time. I couldn't do the fist stop. Somehow, I believed the mud pots wouldn't give me any good pictures. That was a mistake that we'll have to take care of during our next visit. I forgot about the crystal blue waters in a number of springs there.

I didn't want to miss Grand Prismatic Spring. It was always my favorite stop, whenever I took visitors to the park. The only problem is that, regardless of the weather, steam often makes the spring impossible to see.

The mineral deposits there are as beautiful as the sky-blue waters in the mouth of the waters, disturbed only by an occasional bubble that rises to the top of the hot water.

I've been there in every season but winter, and seldom is the view as good as it was today. An occasional breeze drove the veil of white steam away from yawning mouth of the huge whole in the ground. The mineral deposits were spectacular.

The spring itself was beautiful too. At first, the photographs revealed only a hint of blue concealed by steam, but each breeze briefly swept the veil away several times.

Wind was gentle there. But it was strong enough to cause the blue to deepen and show the depths of the spring itself.

It was a beautiful day. The pictures were phenomenal and the day was perfect, except for the fact that I couldn't smell the scent of pine once while in the park. It's either living proof that I have become an old coot, or the rainy weather has had its effect on the scene, not allowing the trees to offer the musk I remember whenever we spent time in the park.

It reminds me of a situation when I was in my early 40's. These old retired swimmers, probably long since doing laps in the happy hunting ground in the great beyond, talked about options to aftershave. One used rubbing alcohol. He figured the ambience was just as good as any expensive cologne. The other argued in favor of another interesting chemical--Witch Hazel.

The edge of the spring found a small patch of yellow flowers.

Jack was a good sport about the walk, and the views of ponds and geysers were fun too.

The smell of sulphur was a bit much. He held his nose during the entire walk around the mud pots. That's the one I missed. There's something about the smell of that area that didn't appeal to me, so I stayed in the car and listened to music.

It worked out well. I saved my legs for the walk I always preferred.

Ann took this picture of the minerals between the spring and Excelsior Geyser. Jack found a stick, shaped like Yoda's small crooked cane. Grandma and I know little boys. And we're sure Jack wanted to write his name at the edge of the walkway. It's a given. It's like when they write their name in the sand while performing a necessary bodily function. Their pragmatic view is of "watering the weeds" and creating an artistic statement at the same time.

The view of Excelsior Geyser was also beautiful. The blue waters, the minerals, and the bench were welcome sights.

However, either they built that bench for four-year-old children, or they expected Hobbits to visit the park. It had to be no higher than 15 inches off the ground. And although I do have swollen and hairy feet, I am not a Hobbit.

It took Jack and Grandma and hosts of guardian angels to help me rise to my feet.

Now, I know the beauty of the spring and all, but my Sweetie is still a babe. And I love her smile, even when she's giving me that patented grin she always has given since she was very young.

The Excelsior Geyser is one I always hoped to see erupt, but logically speaking, it would be something to see once before suffering from scalding water. In the nineteenth century, it shot over 300 feet into the air, which is for me hard to believe. That would be an eruption that would shoot into the air the length of a football field. It would be beautiful, but I think I'll prefer just imagining how beautiful it would be to see.

Today was one of those days you remember as being a good day. Jack spent time smiling and having fun with us. Grandma was making me smile like she always has. And we found fantastic pictures.

I couldn't resist taking one more picture of the geyser, especially this one with the reflections of the clouds peering from the face of the still waters.

The blue sky is how I remember my youth on our ranch in Northern Utah. You forget how beautiful the sky looks like on a day like this, unless of course, you have months of clouds with snow, sleet and rain.

It has been a year with horrible weather. There has been no real spring, but today was an incredible day.

I was hoping for a good shot of Emerald Pool near the geyser, but what I found was even more fun--the face of the water reflecting the summer sky.

Great Memories In Minnesota

The three grandchildren were fun to watch together. For Jack, visiting his cousins is more fun than anything else he can imagine.

It was difficult to get a picture of the three without one of them teasing someone else.

I wish I knew who taught Jack about doing the rabbit ears thing for a picture, because it took at least 10 minutes to get one or two pictures of the three of them without two fingers making bunny ears.

The next picture was more serious. Either the sun was hurting their eyes, or in the words of Anna, "We "gotsa go pee."

Jack wore his Welsh Festival shirt from the celebration in Malad last year. I love the dragon.

Tommy stayed with the basic Star Wars look.

And Anna, well pink is her signature color.

Grandma and Samantha joined the crew for this picture. The weather was beautiful in Minnesota. For us, it was a glimpse at summer. We saw nothing but rain all the way from Idaho Falls through Montana and North Dakota. Only in Minnesota did the sun finally appear, which seemed ironic somehow.

On the way home, we rediscovered rain, seeing nothing but cloudy and rainy weather through the South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana and Idaho.

In my life, I have never experienced a year like this. Only at the end of my eighth grade year did I see rain like this year. Due to weather that year, my dad was unable to finish spring plowing until the conclusion of school. We began plowing around the clock as soon as the weather cleared, using a small offset plow behind our D-6 Caterpillar. It took about ten days of plowing without ever shutting the tractor off. I began at a little before six and continued until lunch. My dad would relieve me long enough for me to eat lunch, and then I would trade him again.

He worked all day, doing things to keep the tractor and plow going. Then he relieved me around 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. He would plow all night. In the morning, I would start again. Both of us did that until we finished. That was one year in my almost 58 years of life.

I have not seen anything like this year. But one thing for sure, the trip to Minnesota for a bit of medical treatment not only gave Ann and me a brief glimpse at good weather, but it also was a needed chance to see family one more time before their move to Florida.

The pictures we took there were classic.

Jeff's Graduation In Minnesota

The time in Minnesota this time was so short. We arrived. We did the appointments at Mayo, getting more information on how to wrap my legs and keep them from swelling.

And then as quickly as we arrived, it was time to return home.

There was no time to enjoy the sounds of frogs at dusk or to enjoy a good movie surrounded by grandchildren. Everything went so quickly, just like life. Things pass too quickly.

Lydia and Jeff left in the evening for the graduation festivities, and grandma and I watched the grandchildren. In between, we picked up some pizza and cheesecake at Mr. Pizza, and I didn't even feel guilty forgetting about adding points as I ate Strawberry Rhubarb Cheesecake and Triple Chocolate Cheesecake and Key Lime Cheesecake. Oh, and I forgot the slice of Pistachio Cheesecake Ann and I had one other night.

The visit was quick, but it was a great way to end our trips to Minnesota.

Shopping in Boise for Samantha

On our last trip to Boise, we took a lot of pictures for Tommy for a school project--his "Flat Tommy" assignment.

When Ann, Jack and I walked to this nice Chinese restaurant, we passed a little boutique. The clothes were incredible. I particularly liked the hat.

As soon as we arrived in Minnesota in early June, I took some pictures of Samantha in her new outfit.

Grandma spent more time sp

oiling our second little Zollinger Princess, holding her as much as possible. As for me, Samantha has this thing about growling. Before we arrived, Lydia let me hear her over the phone.

I asked Lydia to put it on speaker phone. I first howled, giving Samantha my imitation of Pop Pop Wolf Man. And then I would growl. Lydia laughed at Samantha's response. Her eyes grew big, and she stared at the phone.

In Minnesota, Samantha and I spent time each day growling at each other. As strange as it sounds, it was fun to see our little one make the connection: figuring out the face with the sound on the phone.

I only wish she would be able to remember the fun as clearly as I can. It happened each day, and hopefully, Lydia recorded a short clip of Samantha growling. It was one of those things that little ones do that make them unique.

Cles & Leslie's Trip to Italy and Greece

I love the pictures that Cles sent of Italy. He has told me a few stories about his return with Leslie to Florence. I'm not sure if he went back to the Uffizi Gallery: an incredible art art museum there, but he told me about things that made him laugh when we were there together with my group.

Europe has pedestrian walkways that began to appear in the city centers during the late 60's and early 70's. In Florence, they had a large number of vendors. It was illegal for them to sell their wares--mostly sunglasses and purses and other things with expensive names. Their products were fakes, and in Italy, policemen constantly monitor the streets.

Cles told me that the picture in Florence he took is the area where they set a portion of the film Hannibal. The square near the reddish tower in the center is the area where Lecter hung the policeman from a window in a museum.

When we were there, all of the people selling things were from various countries in Africa. After spotting an officer, they would grab the four corners of the blanket before them, and run with their things down the street.

In the event the authorities don't catch them, they fine anyone buying any of the items. Cles always laughed when they took off in their frantic dash.

My favorite spot when Ann and I did our Greek vacation was on the front of the ship early in the morning. Sunrise and sunset was always spectacular, but just after breakfast, we would always step to the side rails outside the dining area and watch dolphins dive in front and alongside our cruise ship.

Mornings and evenings the water is a bit choppy as in this picture, but occasionally, the Aegean is like glass. I will never forget the time there.

"Once I was the apprentice. Now I am the master!"

Whenever I took Cles to Europe, regardless of his age: either a sixth grader or a sophomore in high school, he would stalk pigeons and chase them. It made me angry, especially when the group was eating, and after a flutter of wings, pigeon feathers would begin to rain down on ice cream, french fries or a brat.

Ironically, Cles takes this picture in Venice of a small Asian child with a fascination with doing the same thing.

I particularly enjoyed Cles doing the Jaws theme in the background, and even more enjoyable was Leslie's laugh.

I can't imagine how fun it would have been to have been there for that trip, unless you were a pigeon.

A Visit To Florence in the Late 80's: The Need To Return

It was 1987. The year was not a good one.

Two years before, I sent a couple of students home from Germany, just as an administrator requested I do. In the months early in the '87 school year and before our upcoming trip, the man forced me to adopt a harsh plan, even though the way I handled the problem in the past was better. According to him, the school board wanted and expected me to do it before our next trip, so I did what he asked me to do.

Now some people may say something like this: Oh, you're just making excuses for yourself. Thinking or hearing that response without having seen and experienced what I did proves otherwise. It would seem illogical for a building leader to force me to adopt something like that and then refuse to support it when the consequences happened, but that is exactly what took place.

The board appeared shocked when I presented the plan. Not only did they have no idea why I would develop such a course of action, but they also seemed reluctant to support it. The board chair even asked me to reconsider and merely do what I did in the past. The men liked what I did in the school system there, and they supported me; they adopted the plan I wrote with the suggestions of my principal.

In '85, two students drank, and I caught them and disciplined them too, but it was not enough for the principal.

was so tense for the trip in '87, and as I prepared students, I reminded them of the change in policy. I didn't want to resort to the harsh measures of sending anyone home. I watched everyone carefully in Germany, but one night at an activity it happened: some students appeared at an activity under the influence. They clearly challenged my authority, and I ended sending both of them home. It cost me dearly.

In addition to those worries, my father had radical surgery in the days prior to the trip as a result of his colon cancer. It was not a good time.

The situation was bad in many different ways. Not only were there added expenses for having my wife accompany them, but it also cost me board support, parental support and even student support at a time when my program was thriving and growing. The results were devastating.

Ironically, my principal did not support me as soon as it happened, and he even called me while I was in Berlin. The board chairperson told me to back down. I didn't.

In 1987, a number of things had happened that further alienated the professional relationship between me and the building principal. There was an argument after he lied to me, and then one day he called me into his office.

"I just want you to know that you'll be teaching only English next year. We will hire a new Home Economics teacher from Soda Springs, and since your program is so strong, a new Spanish class could not survive, so we will discontinue your program." You will teach only English.

That particular year had also been interesting regarding my one English class. As sometimes happened in that district, a large number of unmanageable students magically appeared registered for the class. The principal not only refused to make any concessions, but in the situation, where they were mostly underachievers, I was to teach them a college preparation class rather than a basic composition component. I told a friend that I felt like a circus lion tamer each day, except without a whip or gun with blanks.

Class always began with a fierce but brief argument, just before we began reading Shakespeare or discussing another British writer.

After learning about the curricular change, I had an interview the next day, and the new high school hired me immediately after the initial meeting. Ann and I told no one. It was our little surprise.

I planned this incredible trip for the last group of students from that high school, and even though only six students participated--the smallest group I ever took from any school--I knew what I wanted to do and why. It was to be a swan song, but I wanted to show these students of mine an incredible time.

I planned this incredible exchange.

First, the German government selected me to participate in a program in Halle: a city in the former German Democratic Republic. It was an honor, and the opportunity was also a chance to see the educational and political workings of the former communist country.

I took a colleague and his wife with me on the trip. It was an easy choice, because I had taught with both of them. He was also my high school government and history teacher, and besides, I also thought of him and his wife as very good friends. They would be with me during the trip and then travel home with my students, while I attended the seminar in Eastern Germany. And I took my son, who was in sixth grade at the time.

The pictures on this blog are three views of this beautiful building in Florence. I think it's the white cathedral there, but these pictures are some that my son and his wife took on their recent trip to Italy and Greece.

During that '87 exchange in Southern Germany, I took those students on a nine day tour of Austria and a five day tour of Italy. That doesn't count the many sites we visited in Southern Germany. We visited castles and historical sites. And I helped them enjoy themselves. It was the trip of a lifetime for them, and I wanted it to be that for them.

In the final week of that exchange, we were in Ulm--touring the city and seeing the sites. We go to this pizzeria near the famous bridge, where a tailor once took a leap from the distance above the water while strapped to a small hang glider.

We were all eating, and my students chose to sit at another table. They started whispering, and occasionally they would turn and laugh at me. My son Cles was with me on that trip as a sixth grader. It upset him.

"We know something you don't know." One girl chided and sing-songed the words. Their eyes sparkled, and the smiles taunted me.

I suddenly realized, that they all knew what had been discussed by that principal in his office. They all knew about the change in my teaching assignment, and instead of being upset about losing the class, they seemed elated to sit and grin at me and my son.

"Well, I know something you don't know." I grinned back at them. It's always fun for me to see people "eat crow." And I spiced it up a bit. "I know something you won't be taking next year, because I'll be doing it somewhere else."

I didn't have to say anything else. The students were upset. And they called their parents, and their parents called other people. About fifty people called Ann during the week before our return. But I had already submitted my letter of resignation to the board, explaining my choice of other employment.

Before we left in the fall, the superintendent caught me at a football game and apologized to me about the situation and asked me to change my mind. I explained why I wouldn't and couldn't.

Another colleague with board connections talked to me a year after I left. "The principal's not going to be here much longer. Come back. You can put up with it a bit longer, and things will get better." I politely refused. Things went very well for me and my wife after our move. The change affected our lives in a positive way professionally. Things would never be the same, but more importantly, we would never allow things to be like that again. There would never be a time for patience in a place that refused to respect either one of us professionally.

It doesn't fully explain the weird nature of teaching for nine years in my hometown, but there is still a bitter disappointment I feel after all these years. I worked harder there than anywhere, but it was neither appreciated nor accepted as anything but laughable, yet state educational leaders recognized my program as an example of the best in Idaho. My students always outperformed those in larger schools. That would not change after the move. In fact, my students even scored higher honors.

I received calls from other states as well during those early years, teachers asking me about my testing and lesson materials. I did my own testing, something many teachers refused to do, but the way I measured foreign language skills was something that drew attention. Some of my teaching methods did too. Eventually, I began doing inservice work for the area teachers after a German organization in Seattle asked me to do it.

What I gained from the experience in my hometown was additional life experience. Working there made me "tough as nails." I became the type of person who didn't take "crap" from anyone, although I always loved my students and enjoyed their teasing. The type of teasing at other schools was never vicious.

The second thing that these exchanges did for me was to instill in my children the love of travel. These spectacular pictures are what my son and his wife took in Florence on a recent trip to Italy and cruise to Greece and Croatia. And like the trip I did with my son so many years ago, it also appears to be the trip of a lifetime for my son and his wife. I love to hear how he goes where the situation is challenging. For me, it was an adventure to go to a place, where I didn't speak the language. My son seems to do that also.

When I see the pictures, I think of my son, a sixth grader who learned German from me every morning during our walk to school. I taught him pronouns and verbs, and then we began using simple sentences. I spoke only German with my friends where Cles and I lived. The result was my son speaking more German than my high school students--some of whom took five years of classroom instruction. They would walk into a store and point at something and speak only English.

When I was about ready to go to the seminar in Halle at the end of that exchange, I called Ann. She recently took my letter of resignation to the district office. I had hoped she would sell the house while we were in Europe.

That was a silly notion. During the call, Ann told me either to get home, or she would retrieve my letter. In other words, the district was wanting both of us to stay, and if I didn't come home, I would be going through more of what I had experienced during the last nine years. Teaching under the conditions there is still how I picture hell.

It was not a difficult decision to come home immediately.

But before that happened, I had to change my ticket. My German friends, with whom Cles and I lived during that exchange, took me to a travel agent. Cles was taking a judo class after school, so he wanted to stay and wait for us. We expected to return at six in the afternoon, and Cles promised to wait for us.

Things never go as planned. We returned at 10:00 p.m. It was dark. I was frantic.

We looked all over the small "village" of 20,000 people for my son. We checked at an ice cream place, a pizza restaurant and several other stops. We finally went home, thinking we might have to call the local police.

Cles waited for us on the back patio. Not only did he walk home alone, following the same path we took each morning, but he also used the German money I gave him each day to buy a soda and a candy bar that day. He spoke German to buy the things too. My German friends in that tiny town told me that all the shopkeepers called my son the little German-speaking American.

It's funny how things happen. In spite of tough times--nine years of miserable working conditions--there was an incredible thing that happened.

My son is a linguist today. His courage to speak the language is what helped him be successful in anything he did. That was Cles. My daughters did things that made me proud too during their foreign exchange experiences. And I always recognized their academic gifts as well, each one doing well in something unique and different.

Oh, and before I forget. My former principal, who not only lied to me about the board wanting an "assertive plan" to discipline unruly exchange students but also lied about saying that the board planned to eliminate my program, had an interesting last few years. He hired another German teacher, who lasted two years before leaving. And then he hired a teacher, known for giving 15 page exams.

And by the way, it's funny how lies come back to roost sometimes.

My dad told me something that still makes me smile. School board members asked my dad why my wife and I left my home town, and after telling several board members about what I had been told, a prominent member of the community told my dad that what the principal did to my family cost that principal the chance of ever being the superintendent of that district.

Did I say that this fact still makes me smile, especially given the fact the man was such a penny pincher. The loss to him in terms of retirement will remain substantial for the rest of his life.

Karma really does play a role in a person's life. As Albert Camus once said, "We are the sum of all our choices."

Personally, I'm glad things happened like they did.

A few years before my cancer forced my retirement, we lost a number of teachers to other districts and other states, where contracts offered more money. It was late May, and teachers in my school were leaving in high numbers as they had done for a number of years. A student in class asked me why I didn't leave.

"Don't you know?" I asked. They shook their heads to show they had no idea. "I love you guys." It shocked them for a moment. I'm not sure why. I always had a way of saying things that people normally wouldn't say openly. A board member in that district once told me that he always asked me at meetings about my opinion, because he knew I would say what I thought and not what anyone wanted to hear.

My students knew me well. And I meant what I said.

When I went through cancer treatment, former students called, wrote, and a few stopped by to visit me. My last school was one I will never forget. Sure there were times, when I was upset with administrators, who always seemed to do and say things that irritated the entire faculty, but I am so glad that I had the chance to teach in that high school. And I emerged a better person for that choice.