Favorite Halloween Pictures

Halloween was simpler when Ann and I were small. Parents didn't have to worry about much. We always tried to walk in groups, but sometimes I would become impatient.

I knew it was getting late, and I would walk ahead--trying to get to Bannock Street. When I think of it now, that's a long walk for a small child from South Main where we lived. It's a distance of at least two miles one way, and when you consider that you're stopping along the way, it is not something you finish very quickly.

I remember Johnny Frederickson gave out whole candy bars. When he asked who I was, he always told me that he knew the Wards. Our family paid our bills during the difficult times during The Great Depression.

Ann told me how he respected her dad too. The times that I remember from Ann's picture are those simple times. We never had to worry about pedaphiles. The only one I remember in town was this weird man, who delivered newspapers or something and gave out free penny suckers to children.

"Don't ever let me catch you talking to that man." My dad was adamant about that, and I knew the consequences if I did, even when I had no idea, why my father was so nervous about it.

We lived in simple times. Costumes were things we created ourselves, unless we bought a special mask. You used a large worn white pillow sheet with holes cut for eyes, or you designed something out of a large box. It was about creativity. Actually, it was about getting the most candy without spending a lot of money or time inventing something fabulous.

Most of us gathered our candy in pillow sheets too. Even when my own children were doing the candy thing in my hometown, it was still relatively simple, although we suddenly drove them around.

Costumes were still simple, because we were so damned poor. Cles was The Creature From The Black Lagoon. Kristin was Minny Mouse. Lydia was a witch. But it didn't matter if you didn't spend a lot on a costume, because my children liked the candy. It was the focus.

Years passed. Suddenly, grandchildren came on the scene. It was interesting how things changed over the years.

This first costume was one the neighbors no longer had use for, because their children were too big for it. The picture here is one of my favorites.

Halloween is fun when children are small. They don't understand the whole thing. It's confusing, especially when adults occasionally wear costumes too. We had friends knock on our door, and I remember the shock and horror on Jack's face when he saw an adult for the first time dressed strangely.

When children are small, it's not a challenge to find the "right" costume. It's not even a challenge finding "one" costume, because as they get older, they suddenly find fun in having multiple things. Star Wars costumes are the ones that Jack liked the most. Dark Vader, Luke, a Storm Trooper--he did all of those. Some he did the same year. Then Batman and other heros like Power Rangers came into demand.

But before then, it was fun to have Tommy and Jack at a point in time, where you could say, "Let's have you be a Teddy Bear or a Frog."

That would lead to screaming and kicking and biting and overall remorse for any child being forced to be "cute."

No normal child wants to look like that, regardless how cute it is, so it is vital that a parent take advantage of those moments while they can.

Time moves too quickly. Years pass. Children become sophisticated in their tastes.

But before that horrific moment to occur, it's time to savor the moment when a child can be a frog or a bear or a monkey. Sometimes, like Anna, you can even be a pumpkin.

Yes, that won't happen again. Although the Greeks noticed how life goes full circle. You begin life crawling and immobile. At the end of life it happens too.

I've been in old folks homes, and sometimes, there is at least one person in charge with either a bizarre sense of humor or a need for adults to be cute too, because you see old people dressed like that too.

There is, however, a difference. Rarely do you see a four or five-year-old give you the finger.

And old people in nursing homes might be in wheel chairs or balancing precariously in walkers, but they still live life on the edge.

Giving someone the finger is something that happens. It happens because you have an excuse--either legitimate or not. Maybe it's must a way to show the world what you think about someone forcing you to be cute.

But that early phase changed quickly. Suddenly Jack decided to become Mr. Incredible one year.

At one point, he even flexed those muscles and showed the camera a "six pack," purchased for the price of a costume. Some people spend hundreds of dollars in athletic clubs for that sort of thing.

There are stair masters, treadmills. For every bit of flab, there is a unique machine to give you confidence.

I could never see the value in it. Few people look good naked. And most of those don feathers, paint, spears. National Geographic always featured those souls, whose bodies were hard from running for their lives from "lions and tigers and bears, oh my."

A treadmill doesn't give you enough incentive. There's nothing like being part of something's food chain to give you a burst of adrenaline.

But the charge of a rhino or elephant does the same thing I'm sure. I'm just glad that I never had to worry about that. We did in our high school, however, run to lunch every day. You have to be hungry or really competitive to feel the need to run swiftly to school lunch.

So as a parent, it's vital to enjoy the moment. A time when a child smiles at something so simple as being cute and adorable, because change happens.

First costumes become a must, and then instead of dressing like a small monster, a child becomes a teen.

Then the world really changes. You decide costumes weren't really all that bad.

When I experienced the teenage phenomenon as a parent, I always thought of the Frankenstein film. At breakfast in the mornings, I felt the need to pinch a line from the infamous doctor: "It's alive!"

I didn't. My teenage children would never have thought it funny. They would have rolled their eyes.

It's scary to see a teen roll their eyes, because you always think there is the chance their eyes will roll back, showing only the whites; their heads will spin 360 degrees, as they make this horrific yacking sound and spew pea soup on the rug.

Exorcism doesn't work with teens. It's like a disease. They get it. They keep it for five or six years, and then if you're lucky, they'll become an adult--if you're lucky.

However, even writing this, I realize how your perspective changes with age. I was not only a teen, but I was also a horrible teen.

But one thing about it, my cameras are a great thing. They record moments in time for me. Brief but unforgettable experiences of when a "little one" was cute is something every parent and grandparent must have.

It's those moments that get a person through the teenage years. They get you through other tough times too. There's always a hope that some day, things will be alright, and a child will possibly remember how much you loved them, and how much they loved you.

It happens, because life is mostly a good thing, but sometimes things don't happen like you expect. John Lennon said this: "Life is what happens when you least expect it."

Enjoying the moment is what I do now. I wait. I absorb every instant. Yes, I hate the smell of raw pumpkin, and I worry about cutting myself when we carve them, but the satisfaction that spreads across a child's face is something you can't resist. I'm just glad my Annie will make those fun things for my grandchildren.

Life is to be savored to be enjoyed.

When you smile back at even dark moments, it smiles back at you--sometimes.

I decided some time ago, that I will imagine that life happens that way, even if it really doesn't.

Being happy is contagious.

You never know what happens on any given Halloween, but the moments in these pictures are ones that are my favorites. Time spent with grandchildren is what I live for every day.

And if it takes a costume to do it, I'll buy it. Yes, you hope that things don't become more dramatic in the future, but for the cost of $20, a child lives in a world that soon passes away like dew before the rising sun. Those creative years pass. Children become "almost adults." People inhibited by what other people think. For now, I'll enjoy the moments.

And I choose to savor every day and hope that things remain simple and serene. It might be too much to ask, but I'll do everything I can to ensure that things stay that way.

Halloween 2010--Lot's of Fun Things To Do

In our family, I leave it to my Annie to do the carving of pumpkins. First, given the fact that I am on blood thinner, I would scare the entire neighborhood in a major way if I mistakenly cut myself while cutting through the thick orange skin.

Cooking isn't a problem, as long as I'm careful, but on occasion I catch a finger a bit, and that is not a good thing.

Secondly, Annie is the artist, and if my own children inherits any type of ability in that direction, they definitely get it from her. I can't even draw stick figures. I can, however, write a very good poem. That's not a Halloween thing, unless of course we're taking Edgar Allan Poe.

This one was my personal favorite. The whole skull and crossbones thing was fun. The worst part was trying to get a candle through the small opening.

There was a bit of wind that evening, and it even began to rain around 8:45 p.m., and I noticed that the other pumpkin had stopped flickering.

I take out the candle, light it, and I try to get my hand through the opening, which was too small for my hand. I gripped the small two inch container. But then I simply dropped it into the hole, and it worked well. The only problem was that no one stole pumpkins out of the neighborhood this year, so now both remain on our doorstep for a bit longer. I will light them as long as the candle still has enough wick and wax to do it.

The day began easily. Considering that Jack insisted on watching a movie with me the night before, he was easy to get out of bed. We had been able to find a Star Wars costume he loved on our return from our last road trip in California.

On the morning of this parade, he refused to open his eyes, when I spoke about breakfast. "You've got a big day," I said. "That Halloween Parade is going to be fun."

Suddenly he opened his eyes with a start, sat up, and looked at me. He was excited--very excited.

Jack's friend's loved his costume. And given the sudden movement just as I snapped the picture, it blurred. It actually works, if you think the friend at his left is a ghost instead of a Zombie, but if Hollywood can take liberties like they do with history, I officially do the same thing. Zombies are phantom-like today.

Jack loved having his picture taken, and the plastic helmet was OK, but he looked forward to the evening, when he would be wearing the fancier one we found in Target. Did I mention that he had a laser blaster to go with the whole "get-up?"

We left Jack at school to enjoy the class party they had planned, and then in the afternoon, we picked him up at the closing bell: just as the class was on their way to go to the bus.

Idaho Falls had something special planned for children that evening. At the river, a large number of business vendors took places within trailers, and each one gave out candy. It sounded great. The reality was it was a long wait.

The line stretched at least 800 meters, if not longer, and it took about one hour to arrive at this point. It was here where suddenly you turned left and began stopping at trailers. Z 103 had speakers there, and someone was doing voices and playing music from the last five decades. The Purple People Eater and a few things like that were songs from the radio in the late 50's. I remember my mother listening to it, before we had a TV on the ranch.

They had gymnasts, who did some routines there. There were also small businesses that do martial arts in town. They all had displays, demonstrations or cards to introduce themselves--besides the candy of course.

I found park benches along the way to sit for a bit. We were there for at least two hours or more, so my legs started bothering me. Just standing is sometimes more difficult that moving. I took this picture when my Annie and Jack approached. Jack is sporting his new helmet and laser rifle.

The worst part was waiting in line with people who seemed to enjoy the moment of standing in line with mobs of people. They wouldn't push their strollers. Their children wandered about ahead and behind them, and to make matters worse, people and their children behind us began crowding ahead of us.

This place at the river is beautiful, and I marveled at it, until I noticed who was there. Banks, investors and one particular politician, who created the whole educational mess when he briefly served after Dirk Kempthorne's appointment to something better and more profitable.

No one else seems to be able to afford the rent to open a business there.

This is the view of the vendors, handing out candy. It was an incredible gesture. They spent extra time, when they didn't have to do it. It combined for an incredible time for children and families.

My Computer Room

My computer room features one thing from my ancestry, a Welsh flag. Growing up in a community, where our family talked about those roots often probably is why I think so much about it. Besides, I always loved the whole thing about "dragons."

It was our high school mascot, another connection with those Welsh "roots."

Now one man had something to say about such a preoccupation with ancestors and things in the past: "The man who has nothing to boast of but his illustrious ancestry is like the potato - the best part under ground." Thomas Overbury (1581-1613)

However, the way adults taught us about the past was different than what Thomas Overbury spoke of in his quote. Adults took a different approach. It encouraged young people, persuading the youth to pursue music, poetry sports. But more importantly, they emphasized the need to excel in whatever we did.

And even though no one thought about ancient Druids when it came to talking to youth about Welsh roots, furthering an education was also something that was in the minds and hearts of most young people, who went to my high school. It was what we did.

The Druid way was a 30 year plan, a concept

that emphasized that you never stop learning. We never really accepted that, at least I didn't think we did. However, I still feel the need to educate myself through travel, books, enrichment.

The connection remains. I continue to hope to learn the language and travel there. I want to see the grass-covered mountains in early spring, to hear the sounds of streams, to taste the food.

It's all part of getting in touch with those ancient roots.

Anna's Imaginary Friend

Lydia and my three grandchildren took a break from battling cockroaches, lizards and other interesting creatures in Florida and visited us in Idaho Falls. We have rednecks. We even have an occasional Hobo Spider in early fall, but we don't have huge lizards or cockroaches, except the figurative ones who serve in the Idaho Legislature.

Our grandchildren never cease to amaze me. Each one does something that makes me smile, both past and present.

This blog is about Anna. We purchased this chalkboard we hoped to use near the phone. A name appeared, and after guessing a number of times as to some organization the three letters represented, either Jack or Tommy finally explained.

"It's Anna's friend," one said.

It made me smile immediately, and although Anna wrote the name on the board in late July or early August, it remains. I took the chalkboard picture in late October, just days ago.

It's like the rocks I occasionally still find. Two years ago, Anna collected "pretty rocks" from the yard.

There is a place for them too, and occasionally I look at them. It reminds me of our summer visit: a time when children played every minute, a time when I could hear the footsteps of all three throughout the house having fun and running together, a time when their laughter filled each day with memories.

Those, who don't have grandchildren, really don't realize what they're missing. It's the little things you enjoy--a rock, a message on a paper, a picture with their name on it. It's all good. Each item is a part of our memory now, great times with grandchildren

And just when you think you've found all the things that are fun, you find something new. In a notebook I use to write notes or prepare church lessons or even write poetry, I found Anna's name on the front--written in yellow crayon. I thumbed through the pages, and in the middle were a couple of pictures. Gems that I will save for the future.

An Early Birthday Entry On The Big 58

It's interesting how quickly things change. I remember having this picture taken. I couldn't have been older than three. My parents look really young, no cares, no worries, no loss. This was not long before my paternal grandfather's sudden heart attack.

It's lucky we live today, when we are so aware of symptoms and things that should tell us something is wrong.

I remember my dad telling me as a teen, how my grandfather's left arm kept going numb, especially his fingers. My mother gave me his watch. On the back is a message my grandmother had engraved on it, and the band shows how he had loosened it at least three notches.

My dad also told me how uncomfortable wearing a watch was on his left wrist. He would often take it off and shake his hand. This picture shows how happy all of us were at that time in our lives. I remember my mom's dress. And I remember the horrible clothes I had on that day.

They were wool. It made me itch, and I kept scratching. My dad kept telling me to stop and hold still. He is leaning close to me, just like he did each time he told me to stand still for the pose.

Memorial Day of 1971 was an interesting day. My dad must purchased this pup. I spent the morning with my dad and our family friend Max King catching fish at Daniel's Reservoir.

We had this interesting concept of our limit of fish. Since we often didn't catch very many, we all figured that on a good day, we could really keep pulling them in after we reached our limit.

My dad had me take the fish into town in our cooler around noon. I played with the dog. There was plenty of ice in the chest, so there was no worry about fish spoiling. We'd cleaned them.

I forgot to put them away. After driving back to the reservoir with a cooler full of fish and the new pup, the game warden met me to look at our dog. My dad saw me. They began bringing the boat ashore, and then he saw the cooler full of fish, just as he was about to place the additional limit in it. The game warden was standing next to the truck.

Nothing happened, because we had a cute dog. The game warden didn't notice, but we never did that again. And for any Fish and Game people who may read this, I only had one limit, and everyone who exceeded the limit are now fishing in the Happy Hunting Ground in another dimension.

After a quick trip from college, and I won't mention where I went to school at that time, because I followed my Sweetie there, even though I didn't date her again, until after I served a mission in Germany, my parents had a photographer take this picture.

It brings back memories of a simple time. Gas was cheap. I had no worries. The future was on the horizon. I still looked good in a suit like that without looking like a Mafia hit man. Big guys don't look good in the whole double button in the front thing. There's something about being barrel-chested that just doesn't look good.

Our home on Bannock still had the incredible pool table. I could still fit behind the wheel of my Model A Ford, and did I mention that gas was cheap. Oh, and it was a time before crappy disco or rap or what-ever-the-crap is that mostly hits the airwaves today.

Nixon was President, so I guess there were a few downsides.

I served a mission in Germany from '72-'74. Living in a Turkish Ghetto in a sprawling German Industrial City was something I did for the first five months. It was, where I had the most success and served with incredible friends. It's sad I only know where two of the three in this picture are today. Bart Croxford, at my left, was a fullback at Utah State. I have no idea where he is now. Those summer days in Oberhausen will always make me smile--great times.

I returned home in January 1974 after two years. I served at a time when you wrote letters and never had the chance to call home.

There was a last minute change in my flight plans a short time before my departure, and the mission office notified me immediately, that I was to call home and report the change to my parents, so that they could pick me up, when I arrived.

It took me three days to remember the phone number, and I don't forget things like that. I still remember phone numbers of friends almost 40 years after using them in high school. It was a strange sensation. Then one morning, I remembered. We went to the post office in Bochum, my last city in Germany, and I called home.

I'll never forget landing in Salt Lake City on that night. Ann was there, and I talked her into riding home with my family. We drove back to school together later that weekend, and we were married in the Salt Lake Temple in May. That decision made all the difference in my life.

Though I never thought it possible, because I loved her so much from our very early relationship in high school, I love her even more now.

She has been by my side during the best of times and during the worst of times--traveling all over the world, experiencing disappointment and economic hard times, laughing first with children and then with grandchildren on rides at Disneyland, experiencing tragic events in our family, that decimated and destroyed some relationships in others.

We remain in love.

We remain devoted to each other.

We enjoy every moment of life together, memories of the past and creating new ones in the present.

And she still makes me smile.

Pictures Like This

After a week from hell, it's a photograph like this that reminds me what is important, what I have to do, what is really important.

My dad taught me an important principle once, and it was difficult for me, because I watched my father react to a person try to run over the top of him on horseback. Their cattle were in our field. My dad warned them to get them out. We were on our way to corral them and contact a lawyer about damages.

When the man tried to run over the top of my father, dad grabbed his reins, and used them to drive the horse back on his haunches. Luckily for the man, it stopped there. I knew what that neighbor deserved. My dad was tolerant, even forgiving.

But you mellow as you get older. I went through a "scrapper" stage. Then suddenly I reached the 50's, and I was still someone who was prepared to fight for what I believed to be right. My disease taught me something different.

And I realize it was how my father reacted in his later years too. When a man spoke lies about my father in the local paper, dad told me this: "Anyone who really knows us, who knows me, also realizes that it isn't true. The others don't matter, because nothing you say will change their mind." It's a true statement.

So at this time in my life, I have found a sense of peace, although at times--like this past week, even this past summer--I feel stress at a higher level than I have in my life. Then I realize what is important. Nothing else matters. I survive to ensure that my wife, my grandchildren, my children are alright. They all have to make their own choices, but I will always do my best to ensure that no one can ever say I didn't try to make things better.

A Reminder For Lydia To Send School Pictures Of Tommy & Anna

This year has been a "West Virginia" year for Jack and Tommy, both of them losing teeth quite quickly.

Jack showed me something interesting. Whenever he loses a tooth, he brings it to me for the whole "tooth fairy" thing, but I am not all that convinced that he really thinks that happens.

But he does believe in the greenish picture of George Washington, and he always is excited to find that dollar under his pillow the next morning.

Star Wars Battles At Home

Pop Pop's Princess Does Soccer With Passion And Intensity

I wish I had a video clip of Ann running. These pictures are so cute of her in her uniform and running near the ball. She has no fear. It really is fun to see her play like that, even in still photography, but I still wish I had a short clip.

Anna takes anything she does very seriously. The intensity in her eyes is fun for me to see, but it's no surprise.

When we were in Minnesota, she would play with Tommy and Jack doing light saber fighting.

She would swing her weapon as hard as she could, and occasionally, one of the boys would "whack" her on the fingers or hand. She cry for just a moment, and seconds later, she's running with them again.

And when she started fighting, her eyes went from beautiful brown to black. In the best Yoda voice I could muster, I would say, "There is much anger in you little one."

Playing with passion is what you do, regardless whether it's light sabers or ballet or soccer, and Anna does all of that.

I love seeing it in pictures.

I'm wondering, if history will repeat itself--Anna getting red-carded out of playoff play as a result of her kicking, biting, and cursing opponents.

If it happens, I hope I'm there to see it.

"Just like Pop Pop," I'll whisper to myself, and I'll blissfully remember how many personal fouls I received my senior year for doing what Lydia did too.

I never bit anyone, but Dick Butkus, my ultimate football hero did, while playing with the bears. In a pile after a tackle, he bit a referee.

Now, I find that funny, but it's just my particular sense of humor that finds something like that humorous.

For the record, I wish I had some of those moments of Lydia on tape, which is probably why she never told Ann and me where or when she played.

And when she had a match, not only did she not tell us that, but she told us the wrong day, time and site. It's funny now, but at the time, I had a different reaction.

The History of "The Camaro Thing"

While doing a meeting not far from Jacksonville, Cles visited Lydia and the family. He called me when he rented a new Camaro, about 42 years after I successfully talked my Grandma Liza into buying one.

I was a freshman in high school, and I trembled with excitement at the thought of borrowing grandma's car. After hours of helping her add all the necessary extras--396 cubic inch engine, four speed transmission, dual exhaust system, four barrel carburetor--she needed for a "safe" ride, my Uncle Dave called my dad to tell him about my grandma's purchase.

The light in my room went on at 6:00 a.m. on a school day. "You've got 30 minutes to talk your grandma out of a car that will probably kill her on the highway son." That was all he said. I showered quickly, ate breakfast, and I walked to my grandma's house, all before 7:00.

I told her that the car would be too dangerous, and I also confessed my intentions of borrowing it. "Bless your heart," Grandma Liza told me as she gave me a big hug. "You're such a perfect young man!"

Everyone needs someone to tell them that, even if it's not true. I still regret not being able to smoke the tires on that blue Camaro. And although she assured me that I could borrow her large Wildcat Buick, I never did that. She was safe in that car, one built like a major battleship.

Cles loved this trip, and the kids enjoyed the Camaro. This big kid would have enjoyed riding in it too. And for a moment, I would have thought about my less-that-perfect intentions all those years ago. I would have shut my eyes and smiled, imagining the squeal of tires and the roar of a high powered engine.

Reasons I Want To Live In Virginia

Reason 1: The sunsets there are spectacular, not like the West, where the desert conditions has dust that affects the light. In the West you have brilliant colors--reds, purples, pinks, blues--all etching the various parts of clouds on the horizon. Sunset color is different in Virginia, but it is so beautiful.

Reason 2: Dusk is the time when choruses of crickets begin the ritual I love to hear. I haven't heard the richness of evening in sound in years.

Only in Minnesota did I find anything like it.

Reason 3: The Blue Ridge Mountains in the background look beautiful any time during the day, but dusk is probably the most impressive.

Reason 4: The vast azure sky darkens quickly, revealing the vast heavens with stars I have not seen in years.

Reason 5: It's all about serenity. There is a peaceful feeling you get living away from city madness--sirens, engine noise. It's better than the serenity bell I have in my Jetta, because no one finds it irritating.

Everyone stuffs tissues in my car's bell at home. I gave up a long time ago trying to take out the paper.

Cles took me to take these pictures the just about seven hours before we left for DC to catch our plane at Dulles.

The downside of a visit like this is the vacuum you feel left inside. You miss family still fresh in your memory but living so far away.

But pictures take away the sting.

The Visit At Monticello

The day brought another beautiful blue sky, although clouds remained here and there. It was cool enough for us to feel comfortable wearing jackets, but it remained nice enough to be comfortable while walking.

Steps leading to a bus to the right and up the steps from Grandma is where we took the bus to Monticello.

All four grandchildren were perfect during the tour.

I was so proud of them.

They walked where they were supposed to go, they didn't talk out loud when they weren't supposed to speak, they didn't fidget. It was a perfect day. Adults in our tour told us how well-behaved they were.

At the end of the tour, the guide commented as well. It was fun for me to see the little ones listening intently as we walked through Jefferson's mansion.

It was my third time there.

The first visit was while I visited Cles and Leslie at graduation ceremonies at UNC. Cles finished his undergraduate degree in December, and while I was out there, they drove me to Charlottesville to see Monticello. We walked about comfortably.

I was shocked. The weather that evening felt like late September or early October. The only indication of winter was the absence of leaves on the trees.

This is my favorite picture of Annie and me with the four grandchildren. It was a fun day.

When Jack and Tommy were very small, we were on our way to Disneyland together, and the boys told me they wanted a Pop Pop hat. At that time, I wore Volkswagen hats.

I gave one blue. The other wore green. When we went to Monticello, Cles gave Jack and Anna UNC hats. He let Tommy sport a Michigan hat with a large embroidered "M," which brought comments

from Michigan fans all day. Tommy loved it.

Anna loved the "Carolina Blue" one and wore it all day, at least until I found her a pink one at the gift shop at Monticello. Jack has always been a UNC fan.

And as for our little Samantha, she sported the Levi jacket we found for her in Charlottesville. It was a beautiful day, one I'll always remember.

After the tour ended, we walked around the grounds. I timed it perfectly to be at the entrance. In the late 70's or early 80's, I saw Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt, when he was at Monticello.

I always wanted to go there. The last closing clip showed the serene view of Monticello, just as the Chinese gong struck on the hour. I always wanted to hear it.

The guide let Cles and me walk near the entrance to hear it. It was incredible. Although you have to be there to get the full effect, I put a another post just after this one that allows people to hear it.

You have to be close when you're there. The clock is old, and although you could once hear the gong down in the valley, a person has to be close to hear it now.