Disneyland

For me, the park was a special place, and after all these years, it remains a favorite spot.

It's because I think of things my own children enjoyed, so when I look at the faces of my grandchildren, I see that same joy.

I see the fun they have with their mom and dad, creating moments with their own family like I did with mine all those years ago.

The rides change, but most things remain to help you remember.

Not a trip goes by that I don't sit at the gate and enjoy the music they play. It helps me enjoy the beautiful Southern California weather, especially when my laptop tells me that drifting snow and ice haunt everyone in the Snake River Vally at any given time we are basking in the sunshine.

The time comes when children look at these photographs, and they remember little things. Sometimes it's from other trips there, but what is most important is the fact that you were together for a brief time having fun, laughing and enjoying special moments.

I don't know what it is, but with very few exceptions, something happens during the trip that can always potentially spoil the fun.

Sometimes I give in to the moment, and I get angry for a while.

Disney employees run the park like some people play boardgames--making the rules up as they go along.

It's frustrating, but that's why it's also an added benefit to have looked at a laptop before entering the park.

It gives you something to think about, something to be grateful for at that very moment in time.

Because when it comes to the end of any trip I've ever taken there, I immediately begin coaxing to go one more day. Sometimes everyone gives way to my obsession. We spend another day doing the rides, eating the churros, watching for Disney characters.

No doubt about it, it's a place that is fun to experience.

Finding Old Pictures

Discovering old pictures is like finding buried treasure.

From the time Jack was a baby, one of his favorite foods was spaghetti. I've forgotten now how he called it, but it was something he enjoyed, and his passion for it is something he shared--on his face, in his hair, upon the floor.

That's the thing about being a grandparent. You really don't care about that. It's that sparkle in their eye, the passion they have for something they truly enjoy, and it's not because you didn't experience it, but it's because you forgotten how to enjoy something like that.

During one visit to Chapel Hill, North Carolina to visit Cles and Leslie, they laughed at Jack and the whole notion of his eating with his hands, but they also noticed how much he enjoyed the Italian dish.

Leslie's mom and dad arrived, and we all went to a restaurant. Jack ordered spaghetti.

At first, I think her parents were horrified at the scene, but they noticed what everyone else did: a little boy so involved in something, so passionate about something, that it was truly magical.

You wouldn't think that pasta all over a young boy's face would be like that, but it was, and we still smile at the memory.

Finding these pictures made it even more fun, because I relived the joy that we felt at that moment, and more importantly, we thought about other things we did during that trip to North Carolina.

Looking at pictures like this make you realize, that you often relive everything vicariously, and it's a good thing too, because old people with spaghetti on their face and in their hair is a sordid thing--not as weird as some things you see old people do, but it would make the top ten list on the Letterman show.

The pictures remind me of Leslie catching fireflies in her cupped hands for Jack in the evening. After shaking them, she would release them. The small light flew upward. "Tink!" Jack thought immediately of Peter Pan, one of his favorite Disney moments, because Disney moments are what we did during those early years, just as often as possible.

Although we took Jack and Tommy to Disneyland, when they were one, this trip is where Jack seemed to notice things, and in a strange way, I think he remembered the earlier trip.

This picture is a valuable one. While fighting my leukemia, Ann was concerned. My oncologist and friend told me that I had two weeks to two months, slowly I began making improvements, but he was still worried.

One day Ann told me that we needed to get away and go somewhere. Sun Valley came to mind, but when she asked me, I asked to for a trip to Disneyland. Jack and Kristin came along. It was a magical trip, maybe because you see the magic, when life is so fragile.

My doctor laughed when I told him initially about my desire to visit Disneyland. After our return home, he asked me what we did there. I think he expected me to say I sat in a wheel chair and listened to music and enjoyed the weather. His face completely changed when I mentioned Tower of Terror and the Indian Jones ride and Matterhorn. He laughed.

I miss hearing my old friend's laugh. He called me an eternal child. It's not such a bad thing, as long as I keep the spaghetti off my face in restaurants.

It's How Life Happens

At the time, you always wish for the future--thinking how much better things will be at some point, when children are no longer a concern, that you seem to worry about day and night, when money is no longer a worry, that you seem to worry about day and night, when dreams, that you hope to see somehow appear.

In the first place, dreams don't appear like that, except in Disney animated films of the past. Then there is the thing about children. You never stop worrying. And then suddenly, they have children, and you worry about them.

We won't talk about money. Only Donald Trump seems to have a way of having everything he wants in terms of materialistic things.

Nothing is worth that bad hair cut.

Besides, if I had to change anything, I wouldn't. I came to a conclusion some time ago, that if I did, somehow things wouldn't be the same now.

Paradise is having a woman by your side you truly love and how truly loves you. Paradise is having grandchildren, whose eyes show the love they feel for you.

So when I see these pictures, my only regret is not enjoying every moment. We took them on a Sunday morning.

Our meetings didn't happen until later at that time, and I remember this Sunday. Our dog began barking ferociously. The English Springer we had seldom did that. He howled when sirens began, and that happened occasionally, given the fact a fire station was not far away.

Ann went outside, and in the top picture you could see the hot air balloons some people had. For whatever reason, they landed in the fields near our house. At that time, there were not a lot of homes in the area, so there was a large field near us, that didn't have any crops to be damaged.

It was a beautiful day. It remains an incredible memory.

I wish I had enjoyed it, like I enjoy every second of life now.

Volunteer Work

I can finally write about a situation. A few years ago, a former supervisor and friend at the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C. called me.

I had finished the fight with cancer, and everything seemed to be going alright, although there were numerous medical issues connected to the chemo therapy.

This friend was very excited. "I've really got something for you," he said. "It seems to fit retired teachers with something still to offer." He told me how much he appreciated my presentations and my work in the years before my retirement.

During the very first meeting, I decided I would walk as much as possible to get my legs moving again.

That was not a good choice. I was a terrible color, and when I arrived at the museum for meetings, everyone could tell that pain was an issue as well.

To be honest, the new person, who supervised the group, feared I would have a heart attack during meetings or during any presentations I gave to teachers and students.

However, it was an incredible opportunity. I don't regret having done it now, because I always felt that teaching students about the Holocaust was vitally necessary in today's world--not just because they needed to know what happened, but also because I wanted them to understand how important it was to avoid making mistakes, that cultures made in the past: decisions that resulted in nations participating in genocide, either as bystanders or perpetrators.

I did workshops. The first one was a bust. Technology problems with a video link didn't work. The weather was very bad, and the tech people in Arizona never were able to connect to the live discussions in Washington D.C. It was the longest day of my life, but what can you say about Flagstaff, Arizona. I was never a fan of that state anyway, and that part of the state was really not something I enjoyed.

A workshop in North Dakota went very well. Everyone expected 25 participants. There were well over 80 there, and that was during early summer, when a major storm hit the area with high winds, heavy rain, and those crazy situations that pull up trees and damage houses in a minor way.

Another one in Reno went very well. That was my last workshop.

There is, however, one thing I didn't mention. The friendships I encountered while doing that work is so important, and I miss working with them. But I don't miss the meetings, except when my old friend would occasionally drop in to see everyone.

Times change. It's my time to enjoy life and spend it with wife, children and grandchildren. Life is too precious, and experience teaches me the same lesson every day: I can never spend enough time with family.

A grandparent can really make a difference. But it's more than that. I want each of my grandchildren to remember me. Nothing is more important than that. When they are old, I want to remember how I loved Disneyland, how I howled like a wolf, how I tickled them until they couldn't stand it any longer.

It's what you do when you're a Pop Pop.

A Call From Tommy (With Sammy Squealing In The Background and Anna Talking About The Pooh Ride With Sammy)

Tommy's voice was so excited this morning, when I answered the phone. I knew they had been on their way to Southern California to visit Disneyland. Tommy told me how he could see The Matterhorn and Tower of Terror.

It's something i did with Tommy and Jack and Anna every time we went there with them together. It was a way of calming them a bit. "Who can be the first one to see the Matterhorn or The Tower of Terror." It always worked.

Tommy told about their agenda: Pirates was to be the first ride, eventually going to Jungle Cruise. And then he added this: "Oh yea, we'll go on Haunted Mansion." The boys never liked that ride, and it was a while before Jack enjoyed it. In fact, Jack hated the ride, until Nightmare before Christmas came in theaters.

It's a movie he loves. He even insisted on naming his dog Zero.

Anna, usually so quiet and shy was also talking loudly and laughing with Sammy. When Anna asked Sammy if she wanted to go to Pooh, Sammy's response was interesting. Her little voice made a quick response to something she thought was disgusting. Sammy obviously didn't understand that Pooh was a ride and not something you do each morning.

When Anna was Sammy's age, she loved the ride, and she coaxed to return continually. She did it in a fun way. "I wanna go Pooh," she would say. The reaction of people in the park was interesting. Some would jump out of the way, as if the act were like projectile spewing or something. It made me laugh. It still makes me laugh.

Before the end of the day, Sammy will understand.

"We got Three Day Hoppers," Tommy said proudly. He talked about how they would work their way to California Adventure and go to Soarin'. "And then we'll go on that Grizzly Bear ride," he said excitedly.

"You mean Grizzly Rapids?"Tommy answered me quickly, and I could tell he was absorbing all the sights I also loved--palm trees, flowers in bloom, trees with leaves. These are things you appreciate, when you live where snow falls until June.

"Yea, Tower of Terror. We'll do that one, and then we'll do Tower of Terror and .  .  .  Oh, we'll do Soarin' on the way too."

There was also no question about getting a churro. It's a tradition we discovered in the early days of taking Tommy to the park.

There is no doubt about our experience at Disneyland. It a place with fun memories, not only those with children but grandchildren too.

There won't be any pictures on this blog until Lydia sends them in the next few days.

The top one is something she sent earlier today. I just found it. It's what I call a role reversal. Lydia squeals like a little girl. Anna looks calm, in spite of her hair showing the speed and twist of the ride. Anthony, an old family friend and his family, were also there.

I makes we wish we could have made the visit. But that's what happens, when you get a new pup for Christmas.

The picture at the right shows my two granddaughters, the only ones so far, enjoying a moment of refreshment: Anna with a healthy choice of juice and Sammy sipping her mom's Diet Coke, which she has done for some time now.

She usually grabs the cup with a "death grip" and takes a long sip. Sammy then looks up, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide. "Ahhh," she exclaims both loudly and passionately.

It's yet another thing that makes grandchildren so much fun. Each one has their quirks, their little funny things that make me smile. It's a time when quirks are cute. I have them, buy my Annie says they just make me weird. It's what happens when you become an old fart, besides the rug of hair on your chest and back and the masses of beard that appear in your ears and nose.

The universal question is "Why?" You would think that hair would grow in a spot, where it would be best, but it is the ultimate proof that our Supreme Being has a sense of humor.

The final picture is like every picture we took of all four grandchildren, an instant classic.

Sammy waits to meet Pluto, who stands with someone else in the background. As I remember, this was also a small spot in the park to get a meal, but it was a bit more secluded--a bit more comfortable.

The only thing I heard about the trip at this point was that the park was crowded.

This makes this spot necessary.

But crowded or not, every trip is a special one.

Sith Happens!

When Jack was very young, I told him stories. For his nap, I would tell a "Disneyland" story and one Star Wars story. Within a year, he would make up his own, and on days, when I felt poorly, he would reverse roles.

Jack told the story. Pop Pop took the nap.

To make a long story short, I told him stories to get him calm before his afternoon nap, and again before he fell asleep at night.

During the summer of 2011, we made the trip to Disneyland. it was something we looked forward to this year. Disney reopened Star Tours, and the Lukas "bunch" put everything together.

On the first day of the grand opening, a group from Lukas was at Disneyland. We ran into them on one of the rides, and while waiting, Jack struck up a conversation with them.

They were very impressed with his knowledge of the films, but most importantly, they loved his ideas. He began telling them a story, and as he finished, he reminded them that he would have them work on his movie, when he made it.

The crew didn't hesitate. They expressed the enthusiasm for the chance to work with them. I laughed briefly, and then I noticed two things: first, they were serious, and secondly, I remembered that both Spielberg and Lukas began doing films at an early age.

The small picture is an example of the stories Jack would write, but in most cases it was a short storyboard. This time, however, Jack confused the letters and slipped with the word representing the evil side of those serving the dark side of the force. We laughed when he noticed he had written these words: Revenge of The Shit. Jack was mortified. It shows his innocence, his determination to do all things right, his avoidance of profanity.

It's Jack, who gets after Pop Pop and Gramma for using that very word when we drive or when we drop something or when something goes awry during the course of the day.

Even though it is something that we recognized as a mistake by our little grandson, we also recognized how fun it was to see it and keep it for future years. It's another thing about our Jack, that makes us smile.

A Few Thoughts On This Last Day Of 2011

I took a group to Germany, one of the last I did in my hometown, and during the trip, two students were drunk at an activity. I sent them home. Berlin was a city, where it was not hard to find trouble, if a student looked for it, yet at the same time, they found plenty in the tiny town of Malad, which is no surprise. I grew up there too.

I'm not sure if it happens to all families, but mine tends to have years, where everything goes "weird." In the 80's, for example, I totaled two cars in two accidents, where students of mine T-boned my in accidents that could have been very serious. In both cases, the cars were rendered "a done deal." The last one was a situation, where it bent the frame of the car.
I had a lump appear on my left knee. Surgery was necessary.

Before a trip to Germany, I helped my dad assemble a spray rig to be placed in the back of our pick-up truck. As I hurriedly walked around one corner, the sunlight was just right, and I walked into a section. A sharp point punctured skin one-sixteenth of an inch above and below one eye. The wound was quite deep, and I needed stitches.


Doctors diagnosed my father's cancer.

It gets worse. One of those students was my nephew.

Our family had a difficult time with the decision that happened that year. An administrator forced me to adopt an impossible policy, one that was so forceful and strict, that I believe it actually made students more apt to make poor decisions. Sometimes people do things out of spite.

I was a fool. The school board liked the way I handled things previously, and they didn't want the new idea I felt forced to adopt. Things are sometimes not what they seem.


On the positive side, had I not made a move in '88 to the Idaho Falls area with my family, everything would have been different for us. There were so many opportunities for us to experience in the Idaho Falls area. Chances for Ann and for me to develop professionally.

You never know what will happen.

I'm not going to go into specifics about how horrible 2011 has been, other than I will say that Ann and I have had health issues--not serious ones as in the past, but nonetheless, they were significant.

Then my mother had a severe stroke. That has numerous complications as well. My sisters and I are at a crossroad. It's one, where everyone has understand what is most important, or better said, who is most important.

The rest of my family had difficult times too. It was not a good year. It was one full of car accidents and other horrible situations, that affected a niece and a nephew.

So on the Eve of 2012, I sit here and begin to think about the good things that I remember--some, that happened a few years ago and other things, that happened this year.

Some people do not understand our family's passion for Disneyland.

Television ads talk about it being a place, where dreams come true. Personally, I would never go that far, but it is a special place for my family.

It's a place, where we spent glorious times with my children. They represent a short time away from the madness at work, a short time with our own small family.

When I arrive there, I don't run from ride to ride any more. My only hope is finding an electric cart that offers speeds to get from one spot to another.

The music and the scent of food there are like I always remember. Prices are much higher, but for an instant, we rediscover what we once found there.

This year was one lucky enough to find us there three or four times.



A last trip last summer was the perfect conclusion for a year, when we actually planned to go one more time. I was not to happen. Too many things prevented it. My mother's stroke, tough financial times, sickness all made it difficult to do it without making life more
complicated. 

Those visits in Reno were uncomplicated. I drive a diesel, so the seven hour drive is not one that is a financial drain. The $50 one way is not a problem, and food is actually cheaper there. We buy groceries. We cook. It makes for an incredible time.

What does a grandfather learn from a visit like this?

Tommy loves sports. His favorite football team is the San Diego Chargers, so any jersey I buy him will be that color, regardless of the fact that I hate the management there and their way of dealing with players and coaches.

Oh, and Tommy likes the Jets too, mostly because LaDainian Tomlinson--a former Charger running back--plays there.

We won't begin to talk about the Lakers, because I don't want to spend that much time on this blog, but if it's one that Tommy wants me to do, it will happen. For the record, I haven't liked the Lakers since the days of Magic and the other players of that time, and even then, I was a Celtic fan, so I rooted for the Lakers only if the Celtics and Jazz weren't in the running for the championship.

I know that Ann loves pink, that she still likes Hello Kitty stuff, that she enjoys clothes.

And I know, that like all my grandchildren so far, she is very intelligent and loves to read.

She is this fragile flower, so sensitive, so kind, so gentle in any way. Her grizzly bear Pop Pop would have a difficult time with the typical creeps that prey on little ones. I pray for her and Tommy and Sammy every night, hoping that God, in the Spirit of an old Celtic prayer, will hold them in the hollow of his hand.

You never experience the true meaning of love, until a little one recognizes you and suddenly wants to be close to you. I never experienced anything like that, until I became a parent, but as a grandparent, I was even more receptive to it.

You do that, when you don't have to worry about issues like making a living.

My goal during my years of fatherhood was being the world's greatest German teacher. I spent an unbelievable amount of time and money doing everything possible to enhance my language skills. I like to think I would do things differently now. 

Sammy is an enigma, a pistol. She is one that is so fun to tease. Sammy has the typical Welsh personality, although there are also influences from Northern Europe as well. Viking blood runs hot.

While visiting in Reno, I discovered that Sammy--unlike my other grandchildren--has this Achilles Heel. Both my father and I could be rendered helpless by a person's simply grasping a foot and placing a finger between the big toe and the next one. While tickling Sammy senselessly, I discovered that.

She twisted and turned and squealed in laughter. Finally she grabbed her mother and bit her on the arm. I was one of those "you had to be there moments," but it was funny.

Did I say I loved to tease my grandchildren. Only Anna hates it. Ann is like that. Lydia is like that. It doesn't mean I don't tease the three of them at times.

To make things additionally interesting, Ann allowed me to be self-indulgent during one visit in late fall. We traveled to Yosemite, something I've wanted to do for 40 years or more. The pictures speak for themselves.

The year 2011 was in the words of Dickens--The Best of Times, The Worst of Times. What can you say about life. At 59, I no longer can do things I once did, but there is so much richness in family.

He has a joy that is infectious. His laughter makes everyone smile.

This year has been a great one, another super experience at school, where he has lots of friends. He has this support system with a young bunch of third grade "intellectuals."

Yes, they still believe in Santa Claus, and yes, they still love Star Wars and Phineas and Ferb. Jack wears T-shirts to school that are a mish mash of super heroes, galactic warriors, and a whole lot of Wimpy Kid stuff.

Like my other grandchildren, his personality was evident from the beginning. And Tommy was always his best friend.

It's a blessing to have Kristin and Jack in Idaho Falls. Every day brings something new. Moments like that make me smile. Jack doesn't understand, how when we talk about stories from his younger years, that it's a way of preserving what we cherish. The same is true of all my grandchildren.

To make things even better this year, we found out that we will have an additional grandchild to spoil early next summer--as if it didn't take a lot to get me to Virginia already. I miss it. I could live there permanently, but visiting is great too.

It's things like that early summer visit in Virginia or a visit to Reno in the spring that give me something to look forward to during the dark, cold months of January, when the hounds of winter have their way with us.

And speaking of hounds, yet another thing is great about 2011. It was the addition of our little Bulldog, Jack's new pet called Zero.

There are days, where he has these moments, short times when he nips and chews and craps and pees--all of which in times and places, where you least want it to happen, but like everything else in life, we love him anyway.

Maybe unconditional love is something you learn from dogs.

Malad Courthouse--A Treasury of Memories

There were no handrails in the 60's, and I would have noticed something like that, and so would every young person in the valley. But since they were just a short ride, no one would have spent very much time sliding the full length of them.

That's what they did at the old Second Ward Chapel, but the railing was at least 15-20 yards in length, or it seemed that long.

The Oneida County Library was once in the basement of this building. I loved books, although I usually checked out books about planes and ships and other things. I loved the pictures and architectural drawings.

When I think about that tiny library in the basement, I think about my junior and senior classes with Joe Davis. The first class was U.S. History. Government was what we took from him our senior year, and for both classes, he required a lengthy research paper--something that not many teachers require, but most importantly, something that prepared me for college.

I think about Dr. Seuss. I loved those books when I was very young. And I think about my junior English class. Not only did Mrs. Zundel require a "critical paper," which compared and contrasted a number of short stories or novels or any combination of things like that. It prepared me for college too, and for those projects, I spent a lot of time in the county library, the high school library and the library at Utah State.

The rolling lawn was something that seemed more spectacular in the late 50's and 60's. We would roll down the lawn during any season. When we became bored with something like that, there was always something to do like visiting the Malad Drive-In.

It was also the place, where we had to roll eggs up the hill with our noses during the athletic club initiation. I think authorities call it hazing now. The losers were supposed to eat their egg, or if it burst into goo on the lawn another replacement.

But initiation was such a bad thing. When someone asked me to do something distasteful, I told them "where to stick it," and I don't mean I suggested they try to attach an egg to their nose and join in the fun.

There were fun parts of that night, except for the fact that our "masters" made us eat a raw onion like an apple. Then they stood us on the street of the town.

It was a time when young people went "cruising," even in a small town like my hometown. We had to stop every third or fourth carload of girls and kiss everyone in the car. I didn't refuse that, and I certainly didn't see it as distasteful.

The night in late fall was fun. Anything I did was something that still makes me smile. On the southern side of the court house, a small Presbyterian Church still stands. It had a prominent bell. It still does, according to what I remember seeing on my last visit to the area.

During our junior year, when some classmates and I went through that whole initiation thing, that you had to do to become members of the high school's athletic letterman club, a small bunch of us decided to ring the bell one.

The evangelical minister was interesting. He liked to do a bit more than drink at night. In fact, occasionally he really "tied one on," which means he drank a large amount, which usually led most Welshmen to "howl at the moon." He wasn't Welsh, so he seemed quiet for the most part, unless of course someone rang that bell. And since he wasn't Welsh at all, we just recognized the fact that the man was what we as young people called "shit faced."

His words slurred. Thank goodness for that, because hopefully no one under the age of thirty heard his language.

It was after nine o'clock at night. We climbed up the metal frame, which had a couple of layers of barbed wire to prevent "young characters" from ringing it after hours. The wire didn't work. It just made things more fun. It just made it more of a challenge.

We began ringing the bell. The response shocked me, because I'd never heard "a man of the cloth" use farm boy "lingo" like that. Then he threatened to call the Oneida County Sheriff. That did the trick, because we took off momentarily. When no officers arrived, we returned. The second time, the minister really brought out "the heavy guns." He used words I'd never heard an adult use before, except the drill sergeant in charge of my group at Boy's State the summer after my junior year. We had this huge water balloon fight that nearly escalated into a brawl, so the military dudes were on their toes that night. Ours stood on a balcony on the third floor. I let one fly, and unexpectedly, it hit him in the head. We were young. He was on the third floor, so we ran into the shadows while he artistically began creating nouns, verbs, adverbs and adjectives that was amazing to us.

From the shadows, we waited before dashing to another entrance to the dorm.

As for the shouts from one of Malad Valley's alternative spiritual advisors, I couldn't resist when I heard him. "Bless you too father," I shouted. My friends laughed. He continued another brief verbal frenzy, and then the adult seemed more sure of his steps. He retreated into his house. Within minutes, sirens were howling and lights were cutting through the darkness. We ran down the hill toward a bridge by the service station now known as Ekstrom's Auto Repair.

I miss youth. On that night, we tripped through metal junk and other things that blocked our way in the darkness, and we hid under the bridge. It was fall. The water was cold, but it was only six or seven inches deep on one side. We waited there for about 20 minutes, and then we decided we'd driven that poor minister to heresy enough for one night.

We went home.

The memories of youth still make me smile. You only live once, and besides, men almost in their 60's can't hurl water balloons or taunt ministers without someone questioning an adult's sanity.

Don't Mess With Sammy (Because She's A Dancer)

Lydia sent this Christmas clip, which is so fantastic. I had to add it to my blog.

Artists In The Family

It's easy to be proud of my grandchildren. They have so many interesting gifts: they do extremely well in school, excelling in reading and math and science. I liked to read and loved writing, but math and science .  .  .  Well, let's just say that there were no deluded thoughts I had of becoming a scientist.

In fact, my choice to study Geology and become a geological engineer was something that would never happen, because I couldn't do math.

My grandchildren won't live under limitations like that.

I love that kind of idea. And Anna won't have a math professor place her and any other female students in the back of the class, since women didn't need to do well in a class that didn't prepare them for baking cookies.

So much for growing up in the 60's, when things should have been different.

By the way, any math skills or science skills had to come from Ann. I not only hated math, but I disliked the teacher, who taught advanced math, chemistry and physics at my high school, even more than the passionate way I disregarded those subjects.

Tommy did a picture too, and it is incredible how creative both Tommy and Anna are.

Jack loves movies, and his pictures are a way of sketching a story he has in his mind. Since he was small, he would tell "Star Wars Stories." I may have encouraged it, because before every nap, I told him a story like that, making it up as I went along, and I also would tell a Disneyland story, about any trip we had taken to the park.

So now Jack creates story boards, thinking how he will develop a plot.

When we visited Disneyland, just after they reopened the Star Tours ride, the people working for George Lukas were there, and we ran into them. Jack entertained them with his ideas, and then he told the adults, that when he made his movie, he would hire them.

The adults were fascinated and told him how excited they would be to work with him.

My grandchildren amaze me. I brag about them. I wallow in their achievements, their hobbies.

It's what you do, when you are a Pop Pop.

Our Christmas Pup

We had to give a family our last English Bulldog. The dog is one we received during the Christmas Holidays, and he was very little, when we first brought him home. In fact, he was too little--about six weeks old.

Ann and I cradled him in a blanket and held him like a small infant.

When we purchased him, I had to force Ann to go to the pet shop, where the breeders had a business in town. She refused to look at the little guy or hold him, but then the owner put the pup in her arms, and he licked her.

"He kissed me," she giggled. As soon as we sat in the car, she began saying that we were going to buy the dog. He was in our home a short time later.

I played with him on the floor. He was like a member of the family. Then came my cancer. Ann was nervous about my getting an infection, because our dog Guido Maximus wanted to jump into my lap. He wanted to play with me, and he would stand in front of my chair and paw at me with his one paw. He did it gently, but the nails were sharp.

We had to find a family to take him. It was like losing a member of the family.

Ann refused to think about getting another dog.

A family had some boxer pups, and one was incredible, but she refused to get out of the car. There would be no more of this "having a dog kiss her type thing" to get another pet.

Then Jack did something, because he desperately wanted to have a pet. He played with the neighbor's cat in all types of weather, sitting on the porch in front of our house. The other neighbors had a boxer pup, and the dog would sit on our front lawn waiting for Jack and me come out to give him some attention. But the ultimate was a note he slid under my wife's door, while she worked on some important papers for her job she does in schools. It sealed the deal, but Ann was still just a little upset by the whole idea.

Then the breeder sent this picture. It was like the kiss that our last dog Guido gave her in the pet store that day. She is as excited as Jack about the pup, or maybe as excited as Jack.

Pop Pop is excited too.

When The Dudes From "Yummy Meats" Come Knockin'

When Lydia visited us the last time in Idaho Falls, everything went as usual. We had fun, played games in the evening, spoiled grandchildren and most importantly, we either went to a movie or watched something on TV in the evenings.

I'm not the type of person, who enjoys being rude. Oh, did I really say that, because there are actually times, when it is fun. There's something about the look on a person's face, when they say or do something incredibly stupid, something especially rude. I am a Christian, but sometimes I feel that being a good member of the order means helping Karma find it's way to those, who really deserve it. 

What can I say other than emphasizing the shit really does happen. You hope it happens more often to those who deserve it.

But it doesn't. Look at Donald Trump. Making billions of dollars allows him to live in kitsch with a very bad haircut. I could never get away with that. Well I do have a bad haircut, but I'm not even half as rich as The Donald.

One night about 7:00 in the evening, a knock happens at the door. I put the movie on pause and listen to the voice. Kristin answers. She is the nice person in the family.

A representative from "Yummy Meats" is there, and as usual, he says that we are so lucky to find ourselves being disturbed by him. Why he was in the area to deliver meat, and someone wasn't home, so he has a deal for us.

I've had that deal before. I mean I am old and all, and I know that politicians think it's alright for me, as a retired person living on my pension and Social Security payments I supported all my working life, to eat canned meats made especially for dogs and cats living in Beverly Hills, but that doesn't mean that I intend on doing that. And I won't do "Yummy Meats" for that reason.

Kristin tries to tell the nervy salesman we're not interested, but he won't listen. He's pushing to get into the house to fill my freezer with the crap he has in a large box on his shoulder.

The TV is already on pause. "We're not interested," I say loudly turning toward the door.

"But you have to try this." The sales dude tries to give me his "Spiel," but I've been on that road to nowhere before. 

"No, we've already eaten your product, and it isn't good, and it's twice as expensive as anything in a store."

The salesperson tries to interrupt. Lydia puts her hands over her ears. "I'm not hearing this," she says out loud. "La. La. La. La." Lydia is singing this weird song in a monotone, something I've not heard before, but she's singing loudly, and then she repeats herself. "I'm not hearing this."

I'm still being me. "Bye now," I am still looking over my shoulder and talking loudly. The salesman is still trying to get past he front door to my freezer. "No, go away now! We're really not interested in your poor quality product.

Lydia still has her hands over hear hears, and she puts her head between her knees, which press firmly trying to drown out my comments. I hear her mantra: "La, La, La, La."

The door shuts.

"Oh, my gosh Dad," she says. I put the movie back on play. She laughs. She shakes her head from side to side. Kristin joins us to watch the movie. They smile at each other, which leads me to believe, that I have become like the two old guys in the balcony in The Muppet Show.

But at least I don't have to eat "yummy" steak or chicken or whatever it is, when I can't tell the difference.

A Hat No Redskins Fan Would Wear To The Stadium

The thing that makes memories of young children so magical is the way they pose for pictures. They have no inhibitions, no agendas.

You don't see them having to have a certain article of clothing that they see on TV or something worn by a favorite pop store or athlete.

No adult, especially a Redskins or Vikings fan, would wear a Donovan McNabb jersey, and most would prefer to wear a "new"Mad Hatter hat, the one worn by Johnny Depp in the last movie instead of this old one that was identical to the one in the early Disney film, which played in theaters when I was young.

The fact it was a movie I saw as a child could also mean that it basically was something even my parents saw as children. Later I found that to be the case with a movie like Bambi.

The notion of Bambi is something I find interesting, especially given my family's passion for deer hunting.

However, the fact remains. I love it, that I can get Jack to pose like this for a picture.

Sammy Goes Weeeeee!

While in Layton visiting my mom, Sammy enjoyed walking with Pop Pop and Grandma. We grip her hands firmly, and then we swing. She raises her legs a bit. Swinging back and forth as we walk makes her giggle.

It's this fun game we've played for a while.

She's outgrown the other games she and I played: the tiger growls, the wolf howls. Things change so quickly, and suddenly little ones think they're too sophisticated to play along with strange adults, who try to do something that is now "beyond them."

Jack and Tommy now are fussy about the animated films we once enjoyed. They are now for little kids. I try to tell them that they are both only eight years old, but after all, they are both third graders now. They remind me of that often.

And Anna, she once had an imaginary friend by the name of Ema. Yes, Ema's name only had one "M" in the spelling. The name appeared on a small chalkboard near our phone during one of the summer visits, when Lydia and the kids come to entertain Kristin, Grandma, Jack and Pop Pop.

We left the name on that board. This summer, I asked Anna who Ema was, while pointing at the name she once had written on the small chalk board. Anna shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. Her eyes glanced about, and then she looked at the floor.

She was now sophisticated too.

It's a disappointment to see my little ones grow older. But I still enjoy them. It is, after all, five years before the oldest two become teenagers. That is a dark time, a time when tremors seem to affect "The Force."

Enjoying them and each moment is what counts right now.

Please Pass The Defibrillator

The mobility issues I have as a result of radical chemo therapy are a major factor in the way I live. I do my best to walk, but my joints hurt, and if I walk a long distance, it taxes me physically. I had a couple of times when I took those walks, and it really bothered people.

"Your face looks gray," they told me. Their eyes were large, and they felt uncomfortable. It wasn't that they didn't like "hanging out" with an old fat guy. The issue was simple: it scared them to death that I would have a heart attack or something.

On one occasion, I told a group of people I met in DC, that I didn't dare fall asleep during a meeting, because I feared I would awaken to sirens and a small squad of people, who after tearing open my shirt, would slap a defibrillator on my chest.

I even told them my concern was it might trigger smoke detectors in the building when my hairy chest caught fire during the course of the electric shock. No one thought it was funny. They didn't even crack a tiny smile. But as usual, I laughed. I always react that way to my own jokes.

My son always had a way of taking a picture that was not what you wanted, and I probably taught him that tendency. When we first bought a movie camera with great sound, we filmed Annie snoring on the couch.

Was it funny? Oh yes, it was funny--hilariously funny, but my Annie senses something like that. It's like this superpower she has, when someone makes a remark about snoring. But the sound of a movie camera was fain, but she roused out of a deep sleep.

I caught hell, big time. What made it even more complicated was my son's cackling.

Karma is a funny thing. Almost twenty years later, my son caught this wonderful photograph at the rehabilitation center, where my mom stays trying to recuperate from the effects of her stroke. Finally, I don't see humor in it either, and I now understand why my wife was angry about being filmed. I obviously don't have any superpowers of hypersensitivity.

I guess I'm pretty much insensitive. Maybe that's my superpower.

But one thing about it. My wife is cute when she snores, and there's nothing cute about my picture, but at least I didn't sleep with my eyes half open as I sometimes do.

It's scary. The reality of sensing the smell of burned hair on that day in the lobby would not have been funny. I guess those people in the meeting were right on track.