Cruising In Mr. Toad's Car

My three grandchildren enjoy Disneyland, but all three learned how to close their eyes when things become too bothersome, even in Fantasyland. I guess in some cases they seem between a world of what is real and what is pretend. On one tour of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, it stopped momentarily while Jack's car was in hell with the dragon and devils laughing that hideous laugh that reminds me of one of my high school classmates. Jack's were like bleached white sand dollars on a beach. On a second ride, I noticed how he covered both eyes when headlight and chugging sound of a train began to echo in the darkness.

But outside the ride itself in this extra car, all three could enjoy the ride without their hands doing anything but grasping the steering wheel. Only Anna was at a disadvantage here, as the two boys just let her look at the wheel, but like her grandma Annie, maybe she was telling them how to drive.

Covering eyes is really a good thing. It allowed the three little ones to have fun while coping with things that frightened them, and like all children and most adults, some of the things that scared them were the very things that made the ride so much fun, especially the ones in Fantasyland.

Oh, To Be A Princess!

On the first day of entering the park, it was funny to see Anna. Like a moth attracted to light, Anna found a window with scenes of Disney Princesses. Lydia had already told her that she was not to ask grandma for any more princess dresses. There was the one that grandma bought during our last trip, and than the chest of three or four grandma and Pop Pop found in a store in Pocatello and sent immediately, so that Anna could wear them before the trip.

As soon as Anna was alone with us, she looked at grandma.

"Grandma, I want a princess dress." We laughed, because it was so cute. And it is so fun to spoil grandchildren.


When I was young, I remember watching Charlton Heston in epic movies--Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments, El Cid. Then came the NRA and his tenure as president of that organization. One of the things I remember him saying, as he held a black powder rifle above his head, was that the government would have to pry his dead fingers away from it to get it. It is not one of my favorite quotes, and that is not why I am writing it now, because personally, I am not really thrilled about the NRA or about that media event either, but when I saw this next picture, I thought about the actor who once was Moses.



Prying tiny fingers, formed into rigid fists, would have been the only way to get Anna's new princess dress off that night. She loved it, and grandma loved buying it, although she looked somewhat sheepish at Lydia at the first moment when mom spotted Anna strutting her stuff in a white princess dress with long gloves.

Every child deserves a doting grandparent, and every grandparent deserves a moment to do to grandchildren what they saw parents do to their own children. It's not a bad thing. We just do it because we love them.

Anna Poses For Pictures

I'm not sure who took these pictures, but Anna posed for them all during one day. It was more than fun being there. No one knows how great four days there can be with grandchildren, unless they experience it--the sounds of laughter, the faint aroma of of cinnamon and vanilla and the train whistles, and these things are just inside the front gate.

Anna enjoyed each picture, and her smile and pose were nothing but perfection. And she enjoyed the attention that grandma gave her, even as much as the rides.

Even though I spend a good deal of time in an electric cart, I still walk as much as I can; however, the joy of being there is just having time with grandchildren, whose eyes absorb everything. And yes, occasionally there are crying children who overdose on joy while at the park, crying because they can't go on a ride or have a toy, but the days we spent together there were more than spectacular.

As for the boys, it was something else entirely. They knew what rides they enjoyed, and what ones they wanted to avoid, and they did not want to waste time with pictures, especially if it meant standing at the very beginning of the morning on Main Street, as they watched families race to their favorite setting, but there a number of times during the day when grandma found a moment to photograph Anna, like while we were waiting for the new arcade ride called Toy Story Mania or at a photo stop while Kristin, Lydia, Jack and Tommy went on Thundermountain Railroad with me.

And like I said, for the boys, the picture taking was a slight irritation: time spent standing when we could stand in a line just as easily. Having spent hours at a store in Ogden, Utah called Fred M. Nye, while my sisters tried on stacks of clothing gave me insight to a situation that was slightly similar, yet we didn't spend hours taking pictures. Tommy did have "the look" on his face, however, and as soon as I noticed it, I tried to hurry everyone toward rides.

For my Annie and me, a visit at Disney Parks is time to cherish in memories, because you know that too soon the three little ones will have better things to do than ride with old people on Dumbo or spinning tea cups. They will have their own things they would like to do, and they may even have places they would rather visit, but as for me, I will sit and feel the vibes and remember memories like these any time of year. The cliche "any time of year" does not really have meaning in California. You have to live in snow country to understand its full meaning, and more importantly, you have to live in a place like where we live in Idaho where you have a short spring after ten months of winter.

Each picture my Annie and Lydia took is exceptional. When I look at the pictures, I can almost smell the churros and cotton candy, but then again, maybe its just me hallucinating after being on a diet for four weeks. Looking at a picture of the moon would probably do the same thing for me on some days when I really begin to miss some of the good, tasty things.

However, there is always a hope that starting this young to bring these three to Disney Parks means that they will continue to ride these rides with their grandma and Pop Pop when they are in high school or even college. It worked with my own children.

But even if that never happens, we all had some days in late November when the weather was warm, the crowds were light and our grandchildren were happy and having fun with us.

Though Disguised By Willie Wonka As A Giant Blueberry, Pop Pop Still Gets Soaked!

This was the first trip to Disneyland and California Adventure Parks, where I was able to ride the Grizzly River Run with both boys. They not only both made the height requirement, but they were also "kind of" excited to go on it. Again, "kind of" are the key words here. Lydia and Kristin went too, and they were excited to go. I kept thinking how difficult it would be for the boys, but they really enjoyed it. It was a beautiful first day, one where you don't really worry about getting hit with a wave of water. It was 92 degrees, and it felt so nice experiencing summer one more time at the end of November, which by the way, makes it so difficult to return to snow country. What made the ride fun for the boys was their somehow thinking that the plastic jackets were Jedi robes of a sort, and even more fun was the idea that their Pop Pop was playing with them.There was a short wait. A female worker, who could not have been older than 25, looked like Ebeneezer Scrooge meets Mommy Dearest. I have never met a woman in such a bad mood, not ever, and the park had only been open for an hour. For a brief moment I felt fear, and I wondered if the woman was a reincarnation of my fourth grade teacher. After waiting a short while for an open boat, we finally climbed in and prepared for the ride. The boys--as young Jedi warriors--not only believed that the power of the Force would protect us from this person who obviously embraced the dark side of the bed that morning, but they also may have thought their dedication to the Force would keep all of us dry. Their destiny was on a different path than that of Aunt Lydia.Jack had not been terribly happy about going on the ride. The boats are a bit rough at times, and the squealing of some girls on the ride in front of us made him uneasy. Jack has still not come to terms with the strange behaviors of teenage girls who believe screaming loudly enough to pierce the human ear is a valuable part of any ride. I was sure that their noise forced dolphins on the California shoreline to stick their heads above the water and chatter in response.

It took a couple of Pop Pop's corny knock knock jokes to make Tommy laugh and allow Jack to forget about the ride. During my teaching career, I found that dumb jokes work like twisting the lip of a horse while someone nails metal shoes on hooves. In both cases, the slightly painful method helps them refocus their attention.

This next picture was the last one that Lydia took before she placed the camera in a safe spot where it would remain dry. In the opening moments of our journey, Jack groaned at the sudden jolts and jerks the raft made on this giant conveyor that took us quickly to the top of the ride. As we reached the summit, a water pipe--designed to squirt riders--hit Lydia in the face. "Is someone doing that on purpose?" Lydia shouted looking around the outside of our raft, and then another squirt of water hit her again. At first I didn't know it happened. I heard this sound: something like a bumble bee, yet it was a bit louder and sounded deeper. And then I recognized it! It was the noise that Lydia made when Cles and I would put a glob of Guacamole on her face when she was in high school. A sound that made me smile on that warm November day, just like I did years ago with a finger dipped in Guacamole.

As we approached the bridge and the final stretch, I heard my Annie's voice. "Hey, Lydia!" Since Anna did not make the height requirement, Ann took our little blond on another ride. I think it was Monster's, Inc. Now waiting for us, they were in a spot to take pictures of us at the end of our ride. Having looked at the picture and seeing the base of the small hill where we splashed down, I recognize why "Hey Lydia" was so appropriate: Lydia was the one screaming. Anna appeared to look as if she were thinking, is that my mom?Anna leaned against the rail and watched intently for us to arrive. It was a very warm day in late November in the park, a bit over 90 degrees, so the splashing water felt really good. During the summer, I never really felt the need for a plastic parka to keep water from soaking parts of my clothing, but I did that day in spite of the beautiful weather. And I am sure all of us felt the same way. Most likely it was knowing that we did not have until eight or nine o'clock that night to dry in the heat of a summer day, and even though the weather was great, each adult knew that it would be dark by 5:30 in the afternoon: only a couple of hours later. We knew that we would need the sweatshirts we brought that morning.

Everything on the ride made it enjoyable for the boys. Their parkas kept them dry. It was not a busy day at the park, so another load of passengers wasn't bumping into us repeatedly during the ride, and most importantly, Tommy watched his mom and Jack watched his aunt express feelings that the two boys were too embarrassed to share with the rest of Disneyland. They smiled because they experienced fear vicariously, Lydia was their mouthpiece. Kristin and I enjoyed riding with Lydia too, and in fact, we hoped to go one more time before the end of our California trip, but this one incredible ride would have to be the one to remember. And it was.At the end of the ride, Lydia composed herself, pulled out the camera and took several pictures. We saw my Annie and Anna on a bridge waving to us as we approached the final bend. Grandma took several pictures of us just before we finished. My only regret was not having some pictures of Tommy and Lydia during the ride. But grandma took care of that with a couple of quick pictures of all of us as we turned and weaved our way to the end of the ride and to the spot where we would meet the grouchy Disney worker. At this point the boys were smiling and enjoying the moments with us. They were both glad we rode Mickey's rapids.

All of us were afraid to meet the young Disney attendant, but it was not to be. As with the entire trip, the fates allowed us to exit the ride with a smiling man who hoped each of us would have a nice day. We were all grateful not to look at the woman, whom we believed had an evil wish for all riders to drown. And we believed she wished the same for Mickey Mouse and his little dog too.

Holiday Memories

There is not a Thanksgiving that goes by that I don't think about memories about my family. When we lived on 181 South Main Street in Malad, the house near the new Middle School there, I sat at the table early Thanksgiving morning. My mother was at the stove stirring something, and Grandma Liza sat next to me. I was three or four years old--probably three, because I don't have a memory of my sister being there that day. I had been asking every adult I knew when Santa Claus was going to arrive, because there was a good dusting of snow on the mountains that morning. Grandma Liza pointed at the foothills. I can't remember whether she lifted me up to see through the window in the door, or if she pointed through the eastern kitchen window near the table on the eastern side of the house, but she told me that when the snow fell around the house, then Santa would soon arrive.

The smells of turkey roasting in the oven, cooked pies and all the other things remind me of those times that seemed so simple in my mind, yet I am sure there were also worries on the minds of the adults.

This was the typical Thanksgiving I remember, although this particular one happened one year before my entering the world. My parents married in June of '51, this picture was in November of '51. My birth was in late October of 1952, just under a year after this picture. Grandma always liked having Thanksgiving at her house, and everyone was there. It was a time I looked forward to attending. Cousins were there that I did not usually see, and we always sat at a smaller table while the adults ate and then laughed and talked.

Although this was not a picture at a Thanksgiving dinner, it was in the same room on the same large table. It was the large table here where the adults sat, and the cousins were at fold-up, card tables. The boys always liked the one with the checkerboard top that grandma had--a table where we sometimes played checkers. This dinner happened spontaneously. Julie and her parents arrived for a visit, and grandma called us to come for dinner. Dad had just arrived from the ranch. Dinner was ready, and grandma insisted that everyone come as we were. I think grandma was lonesome that day, and it probably felt nice to have the family around her. We did not dress for dinner, but she used her china that she always used for holiday dinners.

Christmas was my dad's favorite time of year, and he always had his signature tree, shaped like many other Welsh members of our family--a tree with "full branches," as wide as it was tall. In the early years, I remember the stringy icicles we placed on the trees. My dad soon taught me how to drag my feet across the carpet point at one, and the static would draw one dangling, silver string toward my finger and give me a start with a pop. I remember how dad laughed the first time he did that, and I will never be sure if he did it to see me reaction, to instruct me in basic science concepts or to tease me like he did on occasion. But it definitely was something that soon empowered me to haunt my sisters by using the same shuffling stocking-covered feet to generate enough power to ever gently tough the side of an ear.

The picture of my dad is also a bit haunting, because I can see that my dad was not feeling well. It shows in his face. This picture was in the late 80's, just after the initial battle with cancer and a short time before it tragically returned. I have used this next picture several times.

My fascination with it is because it was grandpa's last Christmas. He had complained of his hand feeling numb for a long time. In this picture he holds his left hand strangely in his lap. Dad told me how he would rub it with his other hand or shake it because of the tingling sensation. And I like this picture because of the setting. This was the dining room area of Grandma Liza's house on Bannock Street. The left corner, where the tree was, is where grandma had her Sylvania black and white television. When she watched us on an occasional Friday night, it was where my sisters and I sat on the floor watching Nightmare Theater, which aired every Friday night at 10:13. The time seems strange, because it always came after the news, and today the news runs at a different time, but I distinctly remember the time being 10:13 for that program. Before we sat in pajamas watching that program, grandma stuffed us with banana nut splits, pie, candy and chocolate. My parents would pick us up late that night, usually after the "scary movie," and then we would return home to our own beds, where at least one of the three of us would throw up all of the massive amounts of food my grandma spoiled us with. Dad finally told Grandma Liza about that, and then she cut the sugar rations in half. We didn't throw up any more, but we still were able to get tastes of great things at grandma's house.

I was in the seventh grade in this picture. We were in a rental home, waiting for the house on Bannock to be finished. That would happen a few months after Christmas. The hair style I wore lasted only that year. The teasing I took at school about "curly hair" explains why I kept it short, even during the 60's. Anything longer than a few inches on top turned into curls, and even when I used something to dry my hair so it would be straight, a slight rain or bit of snow would make me look like a Chia Pet.

This picture of Cles shows how we once also shared my family's tradition of having large pinion trees at Christmas. It took years to figure out why I always became sick during the holidays. I was allergic to trees, and my own children were the same way. It was not until our second year in Idaho Falls that we finally bought an artificial tree, and that one lasted until Christmas of '07, when we finally purchased a new one.

I will always miss the smell of pine, and I think my children do too, yet my grandchildren also get excited about having any kind of tree. In fact, they notice the decorations more than the tree, especially given the fact that we have specific ones that are fun. Tommy and Jack love the one like a tiny bugle. It is actually functional. Both boys also like the Star Wars decorations.

But when it comes to Christmas traditions, one thing stands out for my little ones: my two trains. As soon as I finish putting them out this year, I will do a blog about each one with a video clip.

This picture shows the first year when that tradition began. We had both boys with us when we purchased the large train at Sam's Club. They put on a show with the customers in the store. As I pushed the cart to the check stand, Tommy ran along at my side, not letting me or the train out of his sight for a minute. "Toot, Toot---!" he would yell. Jack then would yell, "All aboard." It was fun, and people in the store grinned. Both boys watched the box in the front room the entire day, and when I opened it, the next morning, the only way I could keep busy fingers away was by having Lydia put them on my back.

This picture of Lydia is also one that brings back memories. My parents eventually began buying an Austrian pine, and this one shows Lydia under the tree on her first Christmas. I always thought we never had anything pink on my daughters, but not only is her dress pink, but the blanket that my Annie's Grandma Peterson made for her has pink in it too.

And this last picture is one I will always remember as well. All my children enjoyed having Santa arrive to bring a few presents after a Christmas Eve dinner on Bannock Street, but Kristin enjoyed it the most. The expression on her face reminds me so much of Jack. The excitement and magic of Christmas is in her face.

The funny part about those Santa visits is Larry Thomas. He was a great Santa, but there was one problem: he taught Cles in church, and he always mispronounced the name as "Cleese." The first night he came as a Santa, Cles picked up on it immediately, and we still laugh about it. It was too late to take any magic away from a Christmas for Cles. By that time, he had been spending years in the weeks before each Christmas looking for gifts.

Lydia liked the visit, but she did not like the thought of sitting on the lap of a hairy old man. And she counted the presents each person received to ensure that each person had a equitable Christmas. It makes me smile. I love how each child's personality is different and interesting, but I especially appreciate that my children and grandchildren are intelligent, and like their grandparents, they do dumb things on occasion.

The family eventually became too large for Grandma Liza's dining room, and in the last year the cousins were at a table in the basement, which did not bother us, but grandma didn't like it at all. Then we began a few years of renting the Eagles Auxiliary Hall, the large red-bricked building across the street from the Malad Drive-In. It was fun for the cousins, because at that time, the swimming pool was not even an idea in the minds of anyone in Malad. A large hole in the old LeGrande Dance Hall allowed us to enter, and we spent ours sliding on the dusty floor and looking around the entire vacated place. For us it was adventure. Our mothers hated it. Each child arrived for dinner dressed in nice clothes, and we emerged from our adventures in smudged and torn clothing. We only spent two or three Thanksgivings there.

There were also the family dinners we had at a park in Garland. During this particular one, a couple of things happened that were funny. The "after dinner" picture created a bit of a stir, because those posing either didn't pay attention, or others didn't show up. No one really wanted their picture taken that day. There were too many exciting things happening. Like the event that happened just as it was getting dark. The older cousins spotted a local teen and a girl sneaking into a baseball dugout. When the rest of us saw the two oldest crawling on the stomachs across the grass to spy on them, we joined them in the new game without knowing what they were looking for in the darkness. Suddenly, there was movement in the dugout. The teen caught several of us and threatened us about saying a word about his being there. It was years before I realized what possibly was happening, but the older cousins definitely knew what was happening, because they experienced what no one else in the family did--dinner with family and a show. The teen threatened those of us who had no idea we needed to run when we were supposed to run. As I remember, Uncle Dave and Aunt Norm came to our rescue.

And then the last thing happened. Grandma Thomas was getting quite old at the time. It was just before the family had her placed in the nursing home. She sat in a chair most of the day, requiring people to help her walk. We had a campfire that night. Grandma Thomas sat near the fire in her chair. One of the cousins threw a couple of firecrackers into the flames. My Great Grandma Thomas went from candidate for a wheelchair to Olympic sprinter. I remember my dad teasing grandma how fast she jumped up from her chair and made a dash, and she smiled. No one ever really found out who had the frecrackers.

And then there were the famly dinners at Power House. All of the cousins had fun playing in the shade of the trees, catching frogs--or what we thought were frogs in the stream--catching hell from our mothers for handling toads. The picture of my mother and me is at a difficult time, and we are sitting at our table at Power House during one of those dinners. I remember my dad telling me about this picture in the 80's. He told me that it was after the death of Grandpa Cles. He put on a lot of weight; he was unhappy and he found it difficult as a young man trying to operate a large farm and cope with the loss of his father at the same time.

Personally I can't imagine what pressure he must have had at that time. My grandfather and dad were very close. For years, our summer vacation was a marathon driving event which usually ended up near Challis in a place dad referred to as Selway. It was where he hunted elk with his dad, and as I remember, he drove quietly as he arrived at "the spot." I now know he was remembering his dad and the things they experienced there. We would always stop and walk across a bridge that led to where they hunted together, and sometimes dad would tell stories about some of those huntng trips. Dad was also very protective of Grandma Liza. He treated her with the utmost respect.

The holidays are about families, and the fun part is how memories of the present sometimes join with the past to form new versions of those old traditions, and occasionally new things emerge to make the season enjoyable. The fun we share is something that lasts a very long time.

Life goes by so quickly. Family members bring us comfort during difficult times. That comfort embraces us and supports us as we talk to those near to us and remember those who are no longer with us. Those positive moments we remember is something needed by everyone, not just during the holidays, but on every day of the year.

Anna's Favorite Disneyland List

1. Disney Princess Fantasy Faire/Haunted Mansion

2. Monster's, Inc. Mike & Sulley to the Rescue!

3. Playhouse Disney--Live on Stage!

4. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

5. Alice in Wonderland

6. "it's a small world"

7. Storybook Land Canal Boats

8. Snow White's Scary Adventure

9. Peter Pan's Flight

10. Dumbo the Flying Elephant

Tommy's Favorite Disneyland List

1. Big Thundermountain Railroad

2. Pirates of the Caribbean

3. Space Mountain

4. Gadget's Go Coaster

5. Disneyland Railroad

6. Splash Mountain

7. Casey Jr. Circus Train

8. Star Tours

9. Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters

10. Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage

Jack's Favorite Disneyland List

1. Pirate's Lair

2. Goofy's Playhouse in Toon Town

3. Peter Pan's Flight

4. Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters

5. Redwood Creek Challenge Trail

6. "Honey, I Shrunk the Audience"

7. Muppet Vision 3D

8. Autopia

9. Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage

10. Haunted Mansion

The Last Days of My Mission in January of 1974

Although this picture did not happen around January 7th or 8th of 1974, this was my mission headquarters in Düsseldorf. There were no leaves on the trees when our group arrived, and we were wearing coats. My companion and I arrived at Düsseldorf Hauptbahnhof quite early in the morning, and everyone was there to meet us. My "greeny's" new mission companion was there, and the mission staff were there to get me and some other missionaries on their way home. They drove us to the mission home, where we left our suitcases and belongings. For one time since the beginning of my mission, we had a day to go into the city and buy souvenirs, eat dinner and take pictures.
Our first stop was Altstadt in the center of the city, and here we found these classic narrow streets. No one really wanted to shop. Our bags were full. Most of us had little money left to splurge on something, and besides we were two years away from spending time buying things that were self-indulgent. We found this tiny Italian place with all the signs of great pizza--lots of people and plates with food at customer tables that looked good. We all sat at a large table. There was great music too. I still remember one song in particular, Guantanamera by the Sandpipers. I can't remember what the food tasted like that evening. I can't even remember all of the names of the missionaries, whom I knew well at that time, but I still thing of that restaurant every time I hear that song, and I think of my last night in Germany. The air was like static electricity. Everyone was excited to get home, something that at least I had not taken the time to think about until this last day.
We then walked around the city as a group and took pictures. I remember taking this from the top of a parking garage. Another one that I can't find anywhere was even better, a classic picture with carhead lights and red taillights slicing through the darkness like strange urban anacondas. And then we returned to the mission office. Our mission president interviewed each of us. It was a difficult time in Germany. The Viet Nam War, affluence and other factors led many to look at things they thought to be more important than religion. Success within the mission waned, and not many years later, the Central German Mission was a part of several other missions. At the end of the interview, mission leaders took us to a hotel, where all of us spent the night. Departure for the airport was early the next morning.

We took off in a rain storm on a short flight to London, where we were to land at Heathrow. Breakfast came quickly, even though it was a short flight, and it was a very good one. I had not seen bacon and eggs for two years, and it was done perfectly. Before we finished the meal, the plane tossed and dipped in severe weather. I remember thinking how upsetting it would be to crash into the English Channel, wondering about the things I would never see and experience as an adult. True to form, I gripped the handles of my seat, and finally the weather began to clear. In all of my years of flying, there was only one flight my Annie and I experienced with more violent weather, and we thought we were in trouble that time too.

We had no idea what awaited us in London. In the days before our trip, terrorists had hijacked a plane, and British military had surrounded the airport. With that problem resolved, we landed at a place that was now calmer, but they had installed metal detectors: something I had never heard about in my lifetime. As I went through the gate, no one said anything. I had the metal microphones of my German reel to reel tape player in my pockets, so my coat not only bulged strangely, but I also set the detector screeching. "He's got a gun," a woman screamed. Two Brits grabbed me, and like a scene in any police series or movie slammed me and my face into the wall. One kicked my legs apart. And they began to frisk me. I heard a click. The one guard held a pistol tightly against my temple with a shell in the chamber. "You move and I'll blow your brains out." Somehow the words did not seem as pretty with the accent like the Liverpool words I heard come from the mouths of John, Paul, George and Ringo. I told him I had metal microphones in my pocket. He had me take them out, all the while he held the barrel of the gun so tightly that it hurt. When he saw the stereo equipment, he cursed me and pushed me through the detector. I almost fell. He didn't say he was sorry. He didn't excuse himself. The sinister bastard just continued cursing me. After all these years it still makes me insanely angry. I guess the Brit thought I had it coming. I dressed and talked like a German. It took a few weeks for the accent to vanish completely, and it took about a week at school before I could understand all of the English spoken in lectures at the university.

Funny thing is the reaction I see when I tell the story. Americans are horrified. Some Welshmen I met in Berlin during the 80's laughed at my reaction and even felt a bit of compassion for me. The Irishman, however, laughed outloud and shared my hatred by telling me that he felt the same way.

I arrived at Salt Lake International Airport. I was so excited and nervous about getting home that I don't even remember if we had another stop in the United States before landing in Utah. I wanted to see my family, and I wondered if my Annie would be there. We had been writing regularly since mid February of 1972, but I had not received a letter for a while before my return. Her Christmas package arrived early. And then a letter came, and several weeks passed with nothing. I thought it was a sign of lack of interest. Really it was a combination of things--insufficient postage on a long letter written with apologies of not writing because of finals and a telegram that arrived in Bochum the afternoon after I left for Düsseldorf. When I stepped off the plane, she was there with some other classmates who brought her to the airport to see me. She seemed uncomfortable, but she was beautiful--her dark hair, her chocolate chip eyes, her desire to see me that night. It felt great to hug her briefly, and then I talked her into riding home with my family in our Mercury Cougar that weekend: living proof that she must have loved me. She sat in the back of the car with my mother and two sisters holding my heavy stereo on her lap. Arriving in Malad, we all ate a late dinner at the Chat 'N Chew. Mark Thompson and a distant cousin Quin Deschamps sat in the back. They shook my hand and spoke to me before leaving. I will always remember the strange look they had on their faces. And I wondered why until I caught a glimpse thirty years later of how I looked. My face shone with excitement, but at a bit under 150 pounds, I was below the weight I wrestled at during my junior year of high school. I picked up my Annie the next morning for the ride to Portage to get a release from President Devere Harris. He gave me permission to drive there with my girl. This was early January of 1974. We were engaged to be married by the end of February. It has been 34 beautiful years.