Dillingen an der Donau

When I did my summer student exchanges as a German teacher, my favorite city in all of Germany was this little city on the border of Baden and Bayern called Dillingen. It was a perfect exchange, small town Idaho meets small town Germany; however, young people are so strange in situations like that. Some of the high school students felt "bored" with the fact that they were in a rural environment without shopping malls and discos who knows what. For me it was how I still picture heaven. In the evening when I jogged before swimming laps in the small city's Olympic size pool, you could hear the sound of a Cuckoo. I had never heard one, besides the one in my grandmother's clock or the faculty meeting rantings of several high school principals I worked with during my teaching career.

Dillingen was a special place for me. I lived with Willi and Erika Martin during that exchange, and during the first visit, I took my son Cles. I put pictures on an earlier blog showing the house where we stayed, a beautiful spot I will never forget. Erika was the cooperating teacher, since she taught English at the school we visited in the city. Willi taught elementary. Cles went to school with him every day. It was an adventure that Cles and I will never forget. There is just something about living in a small town that is totally different that what you experience in a large city.




Nördlingen was a city near Dillingen where we visited that still had portions of a medieval wall. Rothenburg is the city most tourists are familiar with when someone mentions an old city wall, but Nördlingen is the one you want to visit too. And while there, especially during my second trip with students from Idaho Falls the second year, Erika often had essays and tests to grade in the spring. Willi and I would go for afternoon drives in his BMW. He showed some beautiful spots in Germany. I only wish I could remember the names of the places.

The Tetons, Every Frenchman's Dream

My father taught me to appreciate the beauty of this mountain range on our first trip to Island Park. I was in high school, and we were traveling on Highway 20. I was frustrated for over an hour, because north of Pocatello, no one listened to "hippy" music. Just because I wore cowboy boots and also wore a hat for work to match did not mean I was a fan of all that crap that I found over the airwaves. There was nothing but hardcore "wahhoo doodoo." I was frantically working the radio dial on our '64 Chevrolet truck listening intently for any chance new discovery, when I am sure my dad was finally fed up with the ritual that I had to have done every ten to twenty minutes.


"Look over there." He pointed eastward while keeping his hands on the steering wheel of the truck. I looked and saw nothing.


"What?" I looked at the backyards of homes and scanned the horizon for anything interesting. Dad usually did not say that unless he saw a deer or pheasant on the road.


"No, look at the mountain." That was the first time I saw them pointing skyward. We were between Idaho Falls and Rigby. Ironically, some 20 years later, I would be a teacher having worked in two school districts in that area.


I watched the mountains grow in size as we drove further northward. And when I met the first ranger at a station in Island Park where my dad purchased a permit to harvest pine poles, I asked him about the mountain range. A teenager's mind is a curious thing. The only thing I remember was how they received their name: given by lonely but nasty French trappers in the area during the nineteenth century.



Years later when I took Germans to look at what the French named so long ago, my dad asked me if I had visited Jenny's Lake--his favorite spot in that area. Eventually, we explored more of the area and finally hiked around the edge of the lake.


The first stop, for young hikers with plenty of stamina and energy is at the top of the trail above the western shore. It offers a spectacular view, especially in the fall with the yellow, orange and red colors of Aspen and Maple among the pine. The woods offer the pungent smell of the forest and the sound of mountain song birds. Just sitting and enjoying the view is something I will always miss, because it is a hike that I will never be able to take again.



I will always remember this set of pictures, because my daughter Lydia knew a student from her high school who died while he climbed in the area just a month before I took the German students there. I told them the story I heard from people in the area. The boy and a friend were climbing. One fell and slid down a large ice field. He drove his climbing axe into the ice to stop the dangerous slide. He looked up at his friend just as the chunk of ice fractured, sending the victim in the deep chasm. The surviving climber watched his friend look up just before he disappeared into a cloud. There was no scream. The story still haunts me, even though I never personally knew the climber.



The top of trail has a beautiful mountain stream and water fall. Spray rises in the shadows of the woods there. And you can hear the sounds of the stream.

Unfulfilled Dreams: A Jedi Ordeal

During one of our last trips to Disneyland, Ann and I decided that we would try to get both boys on the stage. Ann took Jack. I took Tommy. Tommy sat on my shoulders, and I jumped up and down and tried as hard as I could. Ann does a better job at this, and she can do it without seismic activity that I trigger just stepping down from my electric stroller.

Ann is drawing attention. Jack is waving his arms and shouting too. And then it happens. Jack's throat gets dry, and he yaks. We felt bad. Having two grandsons train as Jedi warriors was not to be that day, but there will be another day during our fun in November of 2008. And besides, both boys have had enough training from Jedi Pop Pop. I just need the pictures.

Jedi Jack

A trip with Jack to Disneyland is not complete without a visit to the Jedi Training Center. For months he trains with Pop Pop, for months Pop Pop has sore knuckles from stray laser sword swings, for months he looks forward to getting his Jedi sword and Jedi robes from those dedicated to the destruction of Darth Vader and the Sith Lords. Just the thought of highfiving other young padawans is a lot of excitement for five-year-olds.


To stand upon the stage and enjoy the enthusiasm of the crowd is the cherry on the cake of Jedi Knightism.














The instruction begins while standing on the stage and awaiting the Jedi Master's command to activate the light saber.

To be chosen is part of the fun. Grandma puts Jack on her shoulder, our young padawan flails his arms while grandma jumps and screams, and Pop Pop holds the camera with a huge smile. Enjoying the scene is key here. Every child needs a grandma like my Annie.

The selection process is a quick one, and there is no disappointment, because there is always another training session an hour or two later. And besides, there is always the Finding Nemo ride featuring submarines just next door, and if that does not work, Autopia is sure to be a quick replacement, but on this day Jack receives training robes and a light saber.

They listen intently to their Jedi master briefly help them focus on their galactic mission.

Oh, and then the dark lord appears, but not before Darth Maul has his chance to scare the children and other foreigners unfamiliar with Star Wars trivia. The Jedi master then picks four or five experienced "younglings." Each steps forward and begins to fulfill his dreams--to skin the knuckles of an adult wearing a Darth Vader outfit. "I sense your fear." The mechanical voice of Darth Vader echoes on the stage. Jack approaches his opponent, light saber in hand. I would love to know what goes through his mind as he swings his weapon ruthlessly to the cheers of the audience. Jack does extremely well when he stands upon the stage. The first time was a classic event.

When he was only four and did it for the first time, the crowd laughed and cheered in approval as he swung his light saber as if his life depended upon it. To Jack, it was just another day of practicing with Pop Pop or Uncle Cles. But to them, it was entertainment "to die for" in a place where children have fun until they begin crying from overexposure to Mickey Mouse parades and toys and rides. Personally, I would drive the twelve-hour trip just to sit under a tree and feel the vibes and listen to the music. Of course, the churros are not bad either, although some one pushed them hard enough to deny the paying public from purchasing more calories in the form of hot fudge and caramel dipping sauces. I hope a Sith Lord finds those do-gooders and injures them with plastic light sabers. But I guess I could just bring my own jars of the good stuff.

The short battle stops briefly while the Jedi master instructs Jack further in light saber tactics.

And before the Siths leave the small arena, Darth Maul takes at least one or two more chances to scare children and foreigners, who have no idea why adults would dress like this.

The dark lord disappears as quickly as he arrived upon the scene, enveloped in fog, lights and sound. The crowd cheers. They clap their hands to the sound of familiar soundtrack music they enjoyed when they were small.

Two Stormtroopers remain, confused about why they did not get a cool entrance and departure from the stage with the help of a fog machine. And then each young chosen one must give their Jedi weapon and robe, the only hard part of the activity, but there is always another session a few hours later or the hope of revisiting the whole thing on the next Disneyland trip.

Again, the worst part is giving up that Jedi robe and light saber.

When we finished the whole thing this past February, Ann and Jack and I walked toward Space Mountain on our way to Buzz Lightyear. Jack looked up at us with a serious look on his face. "Grandma, now you have to call me Master Jedi Jack."

McLemore Avenue, A Favorite Album

When the Beatles released Abbey Road, it was without a doubt one of their most popular albums, and everyone had to have a copy. The cover was a classic with the four members of the band walking across a street. Another band, Booker T & The MG's, did a cover of all the songs on Abbey Road, and all of them instrumental.


I saw a copy in the early 70's in Malad's only remaining drug store, Allen Drug. They had a small collection of records, but they were a very good sampling. The minute I saw the album art, I had to have the recording, but I never bought it. I always regretted that. I guess I have always had the bizarre sense of humor I still have, because after all these years, I still think the album art is fun.



The back cover showed a girl in a miniskirt crossing the street like on the Beatle's album. Booker T did the same thing. I finally bought the CD in the 90's, but they did not do the album art like the original. It was great to find this online, not only for this post but also for the album art on my Ipod. The artwork from the sleeve appears below.

Some of My Favorite Things

There is this book that Victor Frankl wrote to explain his survival after experiencing the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp. He describes watching strong men, whom he thought would outlive him easily, eventually weaken and fade into the "sweet by and by." His book eventually reveals his method of helping him survive--thinking about his wife when life was unbearable, when life was burdensome, when life was fragile. It doesn't mean that those who did not survive did not do the same thing. I know that seeing my sweetheart by my side every day helped me. Not many women are willing to listen to the sound of a machine in the night the size of a small appliance pump chemo into a loved ones veins. And when the alarm signaled the end of the dose, she would get up in the middle of the night, disconnect the tubes and flush the lines with saline: lines connected to a main artery in my neck.


Memories of that are still unpleasant for me. They are dark. They are painful. They are impossible to survive without loved ones.
My three kids were there too at different times, but they were all there when I needed them, and I could depend on them. Not everyone has something like that, and not everyone survives dark times. It is not the only explanation for my still being able to enjoy their company, but it is one I will always be grateful for.

Three Reasons to Fight for Every Breath

When Tommy was little, he would wrinkle his nose, but he never did it when we had a camera in hand. In fact, Tommy was camera shy to the point that I could always tell he hated his picture taken, whether at a studio or just around the house. Only now do I see him pose a bit when his mom or grandma take a picture.

As a baby, Anna is giving us what I always called the "Erma look." She did then and still has this look occasionally where she looks at us with her eyebrows like they are in this picture. It reminds me of Erma. It is interesting how grandchildren have different physical as well as personality traits that remind me of different family members. I wish I could have been the story teller that my Uncle Merl Ward was. He could relate memories that always made me laugh, and when something surprised him suddenly, he would curse--like most members of my family, my youngest sister included--suddenly. But unlike anyone I have ever known, his voice would raise into a falsetto, and although it may have been my imagination, the nastier the word the higher the note.

In the picture at the right, I tried to get Tommy to wrinkle his nose. He would only do it whenever the camera was not ready, or maybe he was amazed that an adult would do something like I was doing in the picture.

My hair was just coming back from the horrors of chemo therapy when grandma took this picture. So all three boys had the same haircut.

Jack and Tommy--from the time they were just tiny--would often be mistaken as twin brothers whenever we were together anywhere.

For my birthday in October of 2006, Lydia took this picture of all three kids and used it to make a birthday card. When I showed it to some friends I worked with at school on a visit after my retirement, they wanted to know how anyone was able to make all three of them laugh like that. It is a picture I love, because it shows three reasons a person would kick and claw his way to stay alive. It is only a small part of the family I love, and it is only a portion of the miracle I still enjoy every day.

Adventures At Disneyland

On our last trip to Disneyland in February of 2008, Jack had told Ann and me that he wanted one thing for his birthday, breakfast at Goofy's Kitchen. That had been a place he enjoyed with several times since he was very young. Dancing and pounding on pots and pans with wooden spoons was fun, and the omelet there was incredible too. Jack loved the breakfast there.

I will always remember when he climbed down from the table when he was no more than three. The big blue bear came into view. "BAALOOOO!" Jack screamed at the top of his lungs.

For this last visit, we were able to try the rope ride at the Brother Bear section of the California Adventure Park. It looked like a rough ride, and it was, but Jack loved it.

More Pictures From Zion National Park

A trip through Southern Utah is not complete without a stop at Zion National Park. Although I always felt I might not want to try it again given my physical limitations, when I see these pictures, another visit is a must. And that visit has to be in springtime, when everything is so fresh and green.

Springtime is when you not only see a river, stained by silt, but it is also a chance to see small falls and ponds that appear at no other time of the year.

Views of Bryce Canyon

I never took my own children to Bryce Canyon. The pictures I took here were breathtaking, but what really took my breath away was standing near a sheer cliff and feeling sudden strong gusts of wind.

I will never take my grandchildren there either, but I do have these pictures from 1984. It was a time before Southern Utah felt the need for a coal-fired plant that generated electricity, so these pictures show blue sky and canyon walls in a better way than what the future will bring. The past few years have also been different as a result of wild fires in the West. That beautiful spring day was a great time to take pictures, vibrant canyon colors and clear blue sky.

The park was so beautiful there, and the formations due to wind erosion were fascinating. It is an example why living in the West has its advantages, although I would love to try something new--living in a place where water rather than wind might be a factor like here in our desert wonderland.

But there is no doubt about it. This park is one of the most beautiful things in the West, and the interesting part about it is the fact that it is not any more beautiful than Arches or Zion National Park or even Yellowstone. Each one is different, having specific things that you can never seen anywhere else.

Rudi tut gut! (Rudi does well!)

One great thing about Christmas is hearing grandkids sing Christmas songs that get them excited about the presents they look forward to open. Anyone who does not understand the excitement that a child feels either forgot or did not have the experience of having family who loved Christmas. My dad was one who loved Christmas.

I will always assume that his parents felt the same way about it. The only thing my grandmother told me about my dad is the fact that he always found his Christmas. Watching my dad smile when Grandma Liza told that leads me to believe that finding presents before the fact was as much fun as opening the gift on Christmas morning.

And I am not in a position to criticize my dad, because I did the same thing. In one case, I actually put decals on the toys and played with them before Christmas. That is why I know that the "quest" is as fun as the actual gift itself.

One gift that my parents gave me was a little record player with a stack of 45's, ranging from nursery rhymes to Christmas songs. I wish I still had some of those records. It would be fun to put them on a CD for my grandchildren.

Jack had preschool during the time when we took these video clips, and a part of their classroom activities was singing. As Christmas approached, Jack would sing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer every day on the way home in the car. Working like I did to make a living prevented me from enjoying my own children like this. Ann was with them, but I never had the chance to enjoy moments like this. And it is a moment like this in four clips that I will never forget.

Each grandchild provides me with moments like this--their singing, their giggling, their drawing, and their teasing. Everything about them is a magical moment that you can never relive.

The Art Of Spoiling Grandchildren

Tommy loves Star Wars, just like everyone else in the family. After getting my grandsons every spaceship and collectible figure available to them as Galactic Hero figures, they not only love to play with them, but my grandsons know every character they have and still need. Tommy let me know while in Idaho Falls that he needs the Storm Trooper whose uniform is soiled from battle. It is one that came with a land speeder. Between now and Christmas, it will give me something to do every time I walk into a Walmart or Target store. It is fun watching Tommy play with his toys, especially the way he organizes them. He puts his Star Wars figures in categories: Sith and Jedi; and his dinosaurs also appear in an order, yet I am not sure just how. But watching him place them, I know he puts them like he likes them to be.

As a Pop Pop, I just love providing him with all of the things he loves to play with that I would like to have had. The toys available when I was young were different, but my parents and grandparents doted on me too. I remember almost every toy that they gave me, and I also remember that their eyes sparkled just like I imagine mind to while I watch "the little ones" rip through paper to discover what surprise lay waiting.

Lydia is going to have to help me with this picture, because I have no idea where we were when we took it. It looks like a Chucky Cheese play area.

You know you love your grandchildren when you go to MacDonalds or Chucky Cheese instead of some five star ethnic restaurant. It is never a question for Ann and me. To be with grandchildren is what life is about in our opinion.

When it comes to spoiling grandchildren, I am sure that there is a fine line. It is just that Ann and I are not aware where that line is.

There's No Pink In Baseball!

This is a favorite picture of Anna, showing off her Baltimore Orioles T-shirt Uncle Cles sent her. The smile makes me smile.

I have two picture frames, one with a picture of Tommy & Anna and one with a photo of Jack. A feature at the top of the plastic frame is sensitive to light change, and so every time you raise or lower the curtain in the front window, I can hear my grandchildren.

After Lydia and Kristin made the initial recordings, Jack was missing Tommy, so he played with the frame and accidentally erased the voice track.

When Lydia came to visit in early July of '08, I put my track on it to remind her to rerecord the voice track. "Oh, L--Y--D--I--A! I need you to record the voices of Tommy and Anna for grandma and Pop Pop." The first night I set the recording, it went off twice when I opened the front window blinds and turned off the lights. Our neighbor across the street turned and looked. He must have thought I was out of my mind.

Lydia reset the track. Tommy starts. "I love you grandma. I love you Pop Pop." And then Anna starts, "I love you Pop Pop grandma." It is fun to hear the voices again.

It is not hard to find a picture of Anna dressed in pink. The final picture is one taken while Ann, Jack and I were visiting Ontario during one of our Disneyland '07 trips. I found the pink stocking cap in the Disney store.

Anna's Favorite Things

Each day that Anna was in Idaho Falls for the recent visit, Lydia would take her into the backyard in the late morning, just before the heat became unbearable outside. There was usually a slight summer breeze, and Anna could look for strawberries in the planter, but she found things that I thought only the boys would notice.

She would knock on the door--ever so gently--and enter, clenching rocks in her hand. They were not just a simple rock with rough edges. These were river rocks, possibly deposited in the valley floor by ancient glaciers and later rubbed smooth in stream beds. How they arrived in my yard is a mystery that only the people selling "top soil" to contractors can answer. Personally, I figure their ancestors sold medicine in the American West a hundred and fifty years ago--the stuff that not only cured everything from cold sores to ingrown toenails, but it also removed warts and heavy stains from clothing. It is so nice that they can make a living selling gravel as top soil to contractors, so that a granddaughter or grandson can find them to throw at windows or postmen or dogs. As a child I would have used them that way. I would have thrown them at some of my relatives.

By the end of their stay, Anna had an entire collection. Unfortunately, we threw some of them back into the yard, until one day I figured what I would do with them.

The sweet old dears at Porters, an Idaho Falls craft store, must have done a series of double takes when Tommy and I shopped there on one of those final days. It is not every day when a grown man finds it necessary to do crafts.

Tommy and I found this bucket-like thing that looked like a paint can, except for the clear plastic that allows anyone to see its contents. And we found a large number of flower stickers. As soon as Tommy and I finished shopping, we drove home and I put the thing together. Anna's eyes sparkled when she saw the finished product, a small jar-like object that carried most of her rocks and a pine cone she found in the yard. Anna carried it around the house the entire day, and when they left, she wanted it by her.

However, we were not yet finished at that point. When Tommy and I left Porters, we went looking for tractors, so that I could feel secure in my manliness. I know Tommy felt better about the whole thing, especially given the fact that he was able to get both a John Deere and a Case International tractor. The Case even had a front end loader.